The Happiest of Man

Chapter 23

“I . . .”

What did all of this mean? Izaya was being incredibly vague; he was not sure how to take in his words.

“I just ate earlier, so I’m not that hungry.”

“That’s too bad. I’ll write you an I.O.U, then. That sound good?” Izaya was mostly teasing although he almost seemed serious through Shizuo’s point of view when the man grabbed out his notebook again and began to write down those three letters. Waving the blond over, he held the paper out to him. What Shizuo first noticed was the messy handwriting. If his memory was not playing tricks on him, he remembered in high school that Izaya’s handwriting never looked like this. Actually, it was a lot more fancier than this.

“The hell is with your handwriting?” Taking it in his hands, he examined the badly formed lines.

“Oh, that?” Izaya chuckled.

“I didn’t think it was worth the trouble to write neatly for someone like you, Shizu-chan.”

“Izaya, you bastard . . .” He crushed the piece of paper in his hands as Izaya calmly looked away and noticed that the skies were darkening.

“Anyway, it was nice seeing you.” 

Izaya made an effort to leave as fast as he could and Shizuo didn’t bother to make an effort to stop him. If things haven’t changed between them, he was sure that he would be tailing him with a large object at hand. He had morals, however. Hurting someone who was sickly just wasn’t something that sat well with him. 

Unfolding the piece of paper that he was handed just a moment ago, he looked at the written-down words before him.

“I’m supposed to be happy, aren’t I?” He asked himself as he continued to hold the paper in his hand.

“If he’s no longer around, I won’t have to deal with the damn flea anymore.”

He crushed the paper again and shoved it into his pocket.

“Then why am I not overjoyed?”

- -

That night, Izaya grabbed out the container that held Celty’s head from a small box. Holding it in his hands, he looked at the unconscious specimen behind the glass. He remembered talking to Namie about his theories about Valhalla and how he decided that he was going to achieve his goal and continue to live for all eternity. He laughed at the thought of how the head still belonged to her, yet he ran away with it. Izaya began to wonder whether she had recently visited his previous home to retrieve it, but found out that instead of getting what she wanted, she was greeted with the fact that he was no longer around that part of Shinjuku.

“Before I die, I should do something spectacular for you, right?” He raised the container above his head as he tried to convince himself that he was capable of doing what he had planned all along.

“It’s not too late, right? It’s not too late! I can still do it. I can still fight to live on in another world!”

He managed to stand on his feet as he slowly walked around his living room.

“There’s still time for me. I don’t have to give up that easily and suffer this way. Even if it isn’t on a place like Earth, I want to continue living! I want to exist forever! I don’t ever want to die!”

Izaya was starting to break a sweat trying to walk properly. His legs felt as if they had cement injected within his muscles. He began to wonder whether he should start wearing those ankle-weights again.

“I shouldn’t have allowed this disease to cloud my judgment. I should have done something, speed up the process of my plans. Why? Why did I waste so much time brooding about death when I still had you?”

He knew why.

As he fell to the ground, his head colliding against the floor, the container rolling away from his grasp, he knew why.

Humans are meant to die.

Valhalla theories or not – there was no way of stopping it anyway.