Questionable Motives

Sirens in the Distance

"Ah, Nakura-san! Are you there?"

That voice, dripping in animosity, a fake, all too familiar kindness.

"Nakura-san? You still alive? You still have enough oxygen, surely."

Silence followed, with a chuckle. "Now don't be so surprised! I have to thank you, actually~"

Finally, the other end spoke. "Thank me?" Shaky. Unsteady.

Music to the young man's ears.

"Why yes! I owe you my gratitude. If not for you, I might still be the lethargic tyke I was just twelve years ago. I wouldn't have stirred such wonderful concoctions into this quaint city called Ikebukuro." A pause, followed with the click of the tongue. "That's a depressing thought, no?"

The man on the other end simply coughed, feeling the flames around him intensify. "You. this is revenge. You haven't let go." Ah, it was like a shower, with a flamethrower as your source.

A vicious laugh. "You must be talking about the incident with Shinra Kishitani, no?" Another laugh. "Revenge? You should know me better than that, Nakura-san."

Nakura merely strained his ear.

"Let me explain~" The other man began, "By the world's standards, you nearly killed my one and only best friend, while I was the one stuck with the blame."

Another pause, while this cheerful man listened to the crackling flames in the distance.

"But, by my standards: You nearly eliminated an inexplicably, yet simple, complex person from the game board. What's one person, or piece, lost, when this world is chock full of others waiting for their turn? Hmm?"

Nakura gave up trying to vocalize. Follow suit, a continuation of this brilliant man's nuance.

"If there's anything to bear a grudge against. I'd have to say that you owe quite a lot of lost time while I was in protective custody. It wasn't how I planned on ending my summer. Plus, you ruined my perfect record, which makes a certain hobby of mine somewhat difficult in certain areas."

It was too easy to imagine the swirling flames and falling debris. The man's smirk dropped as he didn't get an instant reply? Had he died? Unconscious? Far too soon for that!

"Izaya. what's your damned purpose?" The area became hazed.

A red and orange gradient.

"Purpose?" Izaya sounded as if he was speaking to a child, his trademark laugh on the verge of cracking his vocal cords. "Simply another one of my studies! Nothing more, I swear. Trust me."

Silence.

"It seems I'll have to stop here," a slight sigh. "I can hear sirens coming, so maybe - just maybe - you'll survive. If not, I'll simply live how I have, thanks to your temper tantrum that fateful summer. Good luck, Nakura-san~"

The line went dead.

The flames were more than alive.

Nakura? Hmm. Not sure at this point. The man could only hope.

Izaya could only laugh.

From the Information Broker's point of view, Nakura got quite the easy fate. Protective custody was a breeding ground for boredom.

To a "humanitarian" such as Izaya Orihara, boredom was the same as a slow death. More specifically, a poison.

A fire? The flames. Heat. Adrenaline. Panic. Ambulances in the distance. Quite exciting.

Not that Izaya wished to ever die in the first place.

Oh no.

There were still plenty of a game pieces to move around.

Plenty of games to conclude.

To end.

To begin.

To continue.

But mostly end.

Oh yes,

So much to do.

So little time.

Especially as a newcomer game into play.