Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
It was a normal day in Ikebukuro. The streets were crowded, the day was hot, and a vending machine just smashed into the side of a building.
“Are you even aiming for me, Shizu-Chan?” laughed Izaya, jumping deftly from ten feet above the vending machine to a block of flats nearby. The ex-bartender practically growled as the other man winked and took off, effortlessly leaping from window to window; building to building. But there was no way Shizuo was letting him get away this time. He was going to catch that damn flea and make it very clear to him just how long he’d outstayed his welcome on this planet.
The wind felt good against his face as Shizuo chased Izaya, the latter was far enough ahead that his distinctive smell and maniacal laughter were more bearable and the blond was even beginning to enjoy the adrenaline pumping through his body as he exerted it to its full potential – but then he was catching up. There were less people now, something Shizuo was vaguely grateful for, bashing into people as he ran past had been slowing him down a little and the more sane part of his brain felt bad for the slightly dazed pedestrians who now littered the pavement back into town.
Shizuo watched as Izaya dropped from a few stories up and landed perfectly on the pavement in front of him. Fucking show-off. He thought, taking advantage of the pause in the other man’s movements to recover and pushing his body even further. He was so close he could feel his hands curling into fists instinctively in anticipation of the fight to come. Izaya composed himself, allowed himself one glance at the blond monster hurtling towards him, another at his watch, before once again setting off. He didn’t stay on the ground much longer, soon he was pulling himself up a tall brick wall that separated the town from the train lines and vaulting smoothly over the barbed wire that lined the top of it. Shizuo gritted his teeth as Izaya dropped out of sight, feeling his hatred for the flea miraculously increase. He was careless coming over the wall and vaguely felt his clothes snag on the wire, but even that wasn’t enough to faze him right now, because something so much worse had happened. Shizuo had lost Izaya.
His amber eyes scanned the space for any sign of the flea, taking in every inch until-
“You looking for someone, huh, Shizu-chan?” The ex-bartender lost it. He ran blindly towards that all too familiar voice, his rage barely contained enough to move.
Izaya knew exactly how much to wind Shizuo up to make him lose awareness of everything around him: he would also admit to being a little flattered by the blond’s incredible focus on him, a focus so unwavering that it didn’t even register the train that was approaching: until it smacked straight into him, that is.
CHAPTER ONE
Shizuo awoke to the sound of people really trying (and failing) to be quiet. His head felt heavy as he tried to lift it, his eyelashes fluttering as he forced open his eyes: the outlines of people were growing steadily clearer until he was faced with a small room full of complete strangers. He looked from person to person, utterly bewildered. The room around him was light in colour, with a few chairs and tables all angled around the bed that the blond was in. He sat up, his head pounding uncomfortably, and pulled out the tubes connected to various parts of his body: so, he was in hospital. The room fell quiet at this and Shizuo could feel the unknown eyes staring straight at him.
“What?” he asked, knowing his tone was more aggressive than necessary, but not having the energy to care all that much.
“We just wanted to see how you were…” said a man in a white coat, stepping forward a little before seemingly deciding he’d rather keep his distance and going back. Shizuo surveyed him for a while as the man pushed up his glasses, somewhere between nervous and excited. He frowned.
“Are you a doctor?” He couldn’t see why else this guy would be wearing a lab coat, but then something about his demeanour was all wrong for a doctor. This time the silence was absolute. He felt the room ripple with unease. This attitude was starting to piss him off. “Well?” The man looked helplessly at the person to his right, a woman wearing a tight, black biking suit with the helmet still on – she shrugged a little before whipping out a PDA, typing for a while and showing it to him. Shizuo huffed a little, what could they be saying to each other that they so didn’t want him to know that they’d actually type it out instead?
The man in white coat nodded and turned back to him. “I am a doctor, although not at this hospital,” he started, pausing a little, as if unsure how to continue. The helmeted woman gave his arm a reassuring squeeze and he went on. “Shi- Heiwajima-san, do you remember what happened before you woke up here?” Shizuo tried to think back, his head hurt and the memories weren't coming easily – he shook his head. “Okay and now could you tell me, is there anyone in the room that you recognise?”
Shizuo knew there wasn’t, but he took a closer look at them all anyway and was struck by the seemingly random group of people. Aside from the doctor and his female friend, there was a tall, sturdily built, black man wearing what he could only assume was a chef’s uniform; a smaller man with brown dreadlocks; and a dark haired boy who seemed devoid of all emotion – his head lifted a little, letting the light fall across his features and Shizuo started slightly.
“Him,” he said, pointing at the boy. The doctor’s face relaxed into a slight smile, although the blond could tell that there was some reservation.
“And who’s he?” he asked.
“Hanejima Yuuhei-san,” Shizuo replied, he’d seen his adverts on the big screens in the centre of Ikebukuro. “He’s an actor,” he added for good measure. For the second time the unease in the room become tangible. Shizuo could feel his anger levels rising, what precisely was going on? He’d woken up in a hospital, no idea how he’d got there, no idea what was wrong with him, surrounded by a group of weirdoes including a doctor with a terrible bedside manner and a film star, all of whom were exchanging ‘significant’ glances, and it was really pissing him off. There was a loud screech of metal and Shizuo turned to see the IV stand bent out of shape in his hand – he sighed and dropped it, feeling unapologetic as everyone winced at the sound.
The biker stepped forward, typing away on her PDA before showing it to him.
[Hello Heiwajima-san, I’m Celty.]
[We need to talk to you about something, but it’s not going to be easy.]
[We don’t fully understand ourselves, so please be patient with us.]
Whilst Celty was typing the next message, there was a slight commotion at the door and in came a group of people Shizuo did recognise, but half of whom he’d rather not. “Kadota? Togusa?” he said, choosing to ignore Karisawa and Yumasaki who were hovering in the background – but appreciating that they were a lot quieter than they usually were. The two men smiled at him, nodding slightly in acknowledgement.
“How’re you feeling?” asked Kadota, pulling up one of the spare chairs to sit on. Shizuo shrugged.
“I’ve been better.” It was at this point that the blond noticed the frantic typed and whispered conversation that the Doctor was having with Celty, he scowled at them. “What?”
The biker turned to him and held out the PDA.
[You know who they are?]
“Of course I do, we’re not close but we see each other around.”
[But you definitely don’t know any of us.] He frowned, he thought he’d made this clear.
“Aside from the actor, no,” he sighed, vaguely gesturing towards Hanejima.
“The actor?” asked Kadota, obviously mildly confused by only getting half of the conversation. “You mean your brother?”
Shizuo froze. What did he mean ‘brother’? The blond raked his fingers through his hair – he had the uncomfortable feeling of having forgotten something really important, more important even than how he got here. When he tried to think in detail about his life it felt…fuzzy. As if his memory was old film with a stop-start, granulated picture. He groaned, putting his hands over his eyes and pressing down until lights burst in front of his eyelids. He felt a light tap on the shoulder and dropped his hands down to see Celty’s PDA.
[This is what we wanted to talk to you about.]
[Before you came here you were in an accident.]
[You were hit by a train.]
“I was…what?” Shizuo asked, pure disbelief flooding through him. Although, he supposed, if anyone was going to get hit by a train and survive it – it was bound to be him.
“Ah, so you’re there,” said the doctor, stepping forward so he was next to Celty. “Yes, you got hit by a train. The doctors here said they’d never seen someone with so many broken bones before, who was still alive!” He laughed a little, before the biker jabbed him in the ribs and he turned to look at her reproachfully – seemingly unapologetic for his insensitivity. “Anyway,” he continued, rubbing his side slightly. “Although your body is recovering fine, there seems to be some memory issues – as Kadota-san pointed out, the actor you said you recognised is actually your brother ‘Hewajima Kasuka’. I’m Kishitani Shinra and this is my lovely fiancée Celty – so don’t look at her too much, she’s mine!” He received another jab in the ribs from the biker, who turned to him apologetically.
[Sorry about him.]
[We’re friends of yours! So are they…] She said, pointing to those yet to be introduced in turn.
[That’s Simon, he works at Russia Sushi. Do you remember Russia Sushi?] Shizuo nodded, his memories weren’t completely clear concerning the place – but he remembered going there a few times at least.
[That’s good! The other man is Tanaka Tom-san, he’s your boss. You’re a debt collector.] He nodded and thanked her, then let silence fall again. Kadota and Togusa took their leave, seeming to feel that this was a situation that could do without their crew – the other half of whom were now crying whilst whispering about how this was just like a fanfiction they were reading.
“So, we’re friends?” His voice lifted at the end, turning the statement into a question. “Kishitani-sensei-”
[Call him Shinra.] Shizuo nodded.
“Shinra, why is it just you lot? Why can I remember Kadota's crew?” the doctor paused for a second, considering the question.
“I can’t be certain, but it seems to be something to do with the intensity of your relationship. Those who you consider friends – those who you’re close to – you can’t remember, but others aren't affected.” Shinra went on to talk about the storage of emotional memory and the location of different types of memory in the various lobes of the brain but Shizuo had switched off by that point. All he cared about was that the memory he had of everyone he trusted had gone. There was no one left on the earth who he considered a friend; all they were to him was strangers.
[Are you okay?] The blond shrugged, he was more in shock than anything.
[Do you want some time alone?] He nodded and Celty got the others to clear out – well at least she really did know him, even if he knew nothing about her.
Shizuo lay his head back against the soft hospital pillows and tried to soak in everything he’d just been told.
At some point, lost in thought, the blond had fallen asleep and later awoke to find the room still empty – well, if you didn't count the man climbing through his window.