Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

    It was a normal morning. After everything that had happened, Celty had fun with the duo. She still thought that Shinra had made the most idiotic mistake in his life, that he had invited the infamous duo into their house, but they were civil and had indeed spent time with Shinra. It was a surprising day for all of them, and now Celty thought that one day they could all recreate it.

    She hoped they did... even if she found it impossible.

    Was it, though?

    After everything that happened in the past months, the photos and the fights and also their actions... she started to think it is more possible than ever.

    She moved with Shooter. It seemed happy that its owner was in a good mood and it moved fastly than before. It sensed her thoughts. It knew she was relieved. Maybe it was happy in its own way, too.

    As Celty rode through the streets, she reflected on how the days had slipped by. How carefully, how things had changed.

    Izaya telling her everything about the Slasher, about the truths he had kept buried. That was something she still didn’t know how to process. He never opened up like that. Not to anyone. Certainly not without some ulterior motive.

    But he had decided to talk to her. Even Shizuo was surprised that he had said anything to her. Which meant that maybe Izaya was tired or perhaps wanted some of the burden to be given. And choosing her and Shinra meant that he trusted them a lot.

    And that meant something far deeper than she realized.

    He believed in their judgment. He might have his own reasoning, but now she had an idea of what was happening. And she was glad. That she wasn't that lost anymore.

    Celty tightened her grip on Shooter’s handles. She remembered the slight tremor in Izaya’s eyes, and even though he had said that he was tired, she knew he was also affected by everything that had happened. The rawness in his eyes when he mentioned the Slasher’s movements and that he was still unsure if the Slasher was alive. The way he kept looking away as though embarrassed by his own honesty, and in the end, he was right about everything.

    Izaya Orihara trusting anyone was rare.

    She wasn’t sure if she felt proud… or scared.

    Lost in thought, she rounded a familiar corner, and sure enough, she saw something moving. A... body. Celty smiled, knowing exactly who she would find, and sure enough, as she turned to see...

    Shizuo.

    He stood with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a stop sign. His voice echoed across the block, unmistakable and aggressively normal, ready to attack the people who had argued with him. As Celty saw, there was a reason, as always, his team was some steps behind, watching him with small smiles on their faces. Well, Tom, at least as Celty still didn't know how Vorona was acting.

    Celty stopped Shooter at the curb and watched Shizuo for a moment.

    Yes.

    This was the Shizuo she knew. Their normal fortissimo. And apparently, she wasn’t the only one relieved.

    Tom, with that easygoing smile of his, and Vorona, watching Shizuo with the calm eyes as she seemed more usual with Shizuo's behavior. They both looked… lighter. Less tense. As though the last few chaotic days had finally loosened their grip. And Celty hoped it would stay like that... but she knew better.

    Tom noticed Celty first and waved. “Ah, Celty! Morning! Good to see Shizuo acting like himself again, huh?”

    Vorona nodded in agreement, her expression subtly bright. “He appears stable. Loud, but stable. This is an improvement.”

    [It is! It might be wrong to say this, but I am glad I can see some action even if it is bodies flying through the air.] Celty tapped, and Tom laughed as he continued smoking his cigarette.

    "Ha, well... you might not be, since I think the same thing. And this time I can tell you that those people deserved it."

    Vorona nodded. "They were ready to hit Tom-sempai, so Shizuo-sempai reminded them of their place."

    [As he should.] Celty tapped again as she saw Shizuo getting rid of the last people who had dared to hurt his team.

    As he pulled out a cigarette to smoke, he turned and spotted Celty. His face softened, the smallest hint of relief slipping into his features. “Hey, Celty.”

    Shizuo approached them, and Celty could feel her head whenever it was, smiling at the interaction. It was good to be back. Shizuo’s tone, Tom’s smile, Vorona’s quiet approval, it all felt like a small piece of normality stitching itself back into place.

    Maybe things really were getting better.

    Maybe, just maybe…

    Shizuo was the first to step closer to her, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit as he looked her over.

    “Hey… you okay?” He asked, voice softer than usual, even if he had just fought eleven people

    His brows drew together, concern, real concern, not the gruff façade he usually hid behind.

    Celty nodded, raising her phone to show the typed words. [I’m fine. Just… thinking.]

    Then another line appeared after a small pause. [It’s good to see you back to your normal self.]

    Shizuo huffed, the sound half-laugh, half-embarrassed exhale. “Normal, huh? I guess yelling at idiots counts.”

    Tom clapped him on the shoulder with his usual mix of cheer and long-suffering patience. “Counts for me.”

    “Agreed.” Vorona added in her flat tone.

    Celty smiled. She knew that everyone joked, but she was truly happy to see Shizuo less tense. Even if she knew that he still had a job to do, he seemed better. Not like the other days. She started speaking with Shizuo as both followed Tom and Vorona. She would accompany them for a while before their next appointment. Still, she noticed that Vorona was looking around more frequently than before. Celty let it slide as she thought that she was looking at her surroundings. As they continued walking, Tom’s phone rang, and he took it. Tom paced a few steps ahead with his phone to his ear, Vorona quietly observing the street while Shizuo stayed by her side.

    But then Tom stopped walking.

    Abruptly.

    It wasn’t dramatic, but the kind of stop that meant something was decided instantly and definitively.

    Shizuo blinked. “Tom-sempai?”

    Vorona sighed. She already knew. Celty tilted her head. Tom lowered the phone just enough for them to see his expression. Half apology, half amusement, half... puzzled.

    “Looks like the client canceled.” He said. “We are off for the rest of the day.”

    Vorona didn’t need the explanation. She had known the moment the phone buzzed. Her other job, the unspoken one, had quietly pulled her away. They needed her today, which she didn't know the reason why, but she had asked for a distraction that wouldn't draw the eyes to her. The cancellation was the cover, the scheduled excuse, and it slid so naturally into place that no one questioned it.

    Vorona gave a small nod, almost respectful. “Understood. I will take my leave, then.”

    But as always, her mission had another saying. As always, he knew how to put on hold her plans. It was like he was reading her, but she knew otherwise. Shizuo had shown that he could use his head, but right now, she knew that whatever he had thought would not lead to her.

    At least she hoped.

    "That easily?" Shizuo asked, and Tom seemed to sigh as well.

    "I don't know why, but it seems he had delivered the money back to our agency. Which I find it weird since he never does it."

    [Maybe he knew that Shizuo was coming to collect it?] Celty said, and at that, Tom laughed as Shizuo looked elsewhere.

    "Ha, maybe you are right." Tom smiled. “You are dismissed. See you tomorrow.”

    Vorona offered a faint wave and her usual monotone farewell. She needed to move fast before Shizuo was able to speak again.

    “Goodbye. Please do not cause disturbances while I am absent.”

    Why did she say that? She mentally slapped herself, but Shizuo just smiled at her as he nodded.

    "I will try." He truly said as he waved at her.

    Vorona hadn’t stopped, though. She needed to calm down. She didn't want the others to see where she was heading, and she didn't need the others to know what she was about to do. Which she still thought was weird, but money was money. She turned sharply and headed down the street, already slipping into the mindset of her next mission, her steps steady and precise.

    Tom watched her go with a little shake of his head. “That girl works too hard.” He muttered with fond exasperation.

    "I think she has something on her mind." Shizuo said as he smoked, and Tom looked at him.

    "How so?"

    "She started power walking, meaning that she had something to do."

    "You think so?" Tom sighed. "She could have asked to take the day off rather than wait for the day to end if she truly had something to do."

    Shizuo put his cigarette in the small bag he carried around. "Maybe she couldn't ask for one."

    "What do you mean?" Tom watched Shizuo as he seemed to have an idea of why Vorona had left that early.

    Shizuo, though, didn't say anything as he just shrugged his shoulders, showing that he didn't know. Which Tom found weird. Tom eyed him again since he felt that Shizuo was holding information from him, but he soon enough sighed.

    It was still weird that Shizuo could read someone when he wanted. Tom decided not to play with his luck, so he continued the conversation.

    “Well, since the day’s free, want to grab lunch?”

    Shizuo gave a small grunt, but shook his head. “Nah. Think I will pass today.”

    Tom raised an eyebrow, suddenly amused but also thoughtful. “Oh? Busy?”

    Shizuo glanced at Celty, and his face softened again. “Just wanna hang out with Celty for a bit.”

    Celty beamed even without her head. She didn’t need words to show she appreciated it.

    Tom chuckled. “Ahh, gotcha. Well, enjoy your day then. See you tomorrow.”

    Shizuo nodded, lifting a hand in a casual wave as Tom walked off, soon disappearing around a corner.

    Once he was gone, Shizuo turned fully toward Celty, expression open, gentle in that rare way he saved only for a handful of people.

    “So...” He said quietly. “...wanna walk for a bit?”

    -ooo-

    He hoped he was right. Or at least he found one of the fragments that would end that damn creature. Izaya moved slowly, not wanting to cause commotion. He didn't want anyone to recognize him. Which he would have been better off if he hadn't worn his jacket, but today, as he had left his office, his guts told him to wear it. For why... he didn’t know, but he would follow his guts today.

    After all, they had led him to one of the fragments or pellets that damn monster had made. He moved throughout Shinjuku. Thanks to that damn secretary's help, Kasane, he found many of the pellets, but he was still missing the crucial one. Her life source. Where had she managed to put it? He hoped to find it before anything major happened.

    Izaya slipped through Shinjuku like a shadow that had grown tired of being chased. Which he did. He started to get annoyed with that monster's antics. He wanted to return back on annoying people, observing his humans, his routine. Which, as he more and more thought about it... he knew it would not be the same. Not after everything that had happened.

    Not after that damn protozoan's question...

    Kasane’s latest message blinked on his screen, short, blunt, far more direct than her usual clipped formality. She seemed… invested. More than before.

    Izaya arched an eyebrow. "My, my… Kasane-chan, you are getting bold."

    He typed nothing back for now. Instead, he watched the messages roll in, each perfectly timed, each cutting through the city’s noise with sharp efficiency. She was pushing harder. Maybe because she wanted to feel like part of this hunt. Maybe because even from her side of the Saika lineage, she understood the creeping danger Rio’s shadows brought.

    But she also knew perfectly well she couldn’t step into this herself.

    If even one of Rio’s shadows so much as brushed her... her power, her influence, her precious network… gone. Erased. Saika wanted Rio back, yes. Loved her in that twisted way only blades could love. But Saika also wanted her destroyed the moment Rio stopped being obedient.

    Kasane knew that better than anyone. Which meant this strange level of cooperation… was unusual. Suspicious, even. But Izaya knew who was more affected by this... and it wasn't him.

    Izaya exhaled through his nose.

    “Supernatural knives.” He muttered under his breath, making sure, though, to be heard. “Always complicated.”

    He stuck to side alleys and rooftops, slipping between neon signs and rusty fire escape ladders. He kept his hood low, hiding as best he could, though the jacket made him stand out more than he liked. His gut had practically screamed at him to wear it before he left, and Izaya wasn’t one to ignore instinct.

    Still, he cursed it quietly as he skirted around a pair of drunks and vaulted over a narrow alley. He landed silently, shoes barely scraping the concrete, and checked his phone.

    Kasane sent a single dot. Then another.

    Then... Left. 12 meters. Behind the vending machines. Move fast.

    Izaya snorted softly. She was practically ordering him around now.

    But she was right.

    He slipped around the corner, crouching low. The vending machines hummed under flickering fluorescent lights, the smell of spilled soda thick in the air. And wedged between the far machine and the wall.

    There it was.

    A small crowbar. Not remarkable at first glance. Except the metal pulsed faintly, as though breathing. A tiny pellet lodged in it writhed in a way no metal should. Izaya didn’t hesitate. His knife flicked out in a single, practiced motion.

    Shhnk.

    The pellet shrieked, not a sound that echoed but one that vibrated through the bones, sharp and hateful. Shadows spilled out like a dying breath, slithering upward before dissolving into nothing.

    He watched until the last tendril faded. His phone buzzed immediately.

    (That one’s gone. I don’t feel anything else close by.)

    Izaya smirked, turning his gaze toward the nearest security camera, the one he knew she would be using. He tilted his head, let the corner of his mouth curl.

    “Arigatou, Kasane-chan.” He said aloud, letting the gratitude drip with theatrical flourish.

    The phone buzzed again.

    (Stop talking to the cameras. And especially... don't use my name.)

    Izaya chuckled. “You are the one watching. You can’t expect me not to entertain my audience.”

    A beat passed. (I’m not your audience.)

    Izaya tucked his knife away, eyes gleaming. “Of course you are.” He murmured. “Everyone in this city is. Even if they pretend otherwise.”

    There was a long moment of silence. Oh, he just hit a nerve. Well, it was true. Those past months, he wasn't in his best behavior, and he had forgotten or sidelined some of his plans for that damn creature that he wanted gone. After all, he could notice how everyone was acting towards him, how much he had changed, and how he acted with Shizuo. He didn't want anyone to see it, but it was necessary. After all, Rio was more dangerous than anyone could understand.

    What, though, made him pause was that all the pellets were close by to his apartment. Meaning... that Rio had a faint idea that something would happen and she was prepared to get rid of him, whatever the cause, even if it wasn't by her true hands but by manipulating other bodies.

    That damn creature! He hoped her end was near.

    Another message came, quicker this time, sharp, annoyed, exactly the flavor Izaya expected from Kasane. She was at a loss for words, meaning that something must have bothered her. He would find out later on, after they were done with this cooperation. Still... he had forgotten her.

    (Don't sense anything nearby. Move ahead.)

    Izaya stared at Kasane’s last message, the abruptness of it prickling under his skin. She never cut contact unless something urgent was happening on her end, genuinely urgent. For all her clipped, mechanical politeness, Kasane did not abandon efficiency without reason.

    Still, he nodded toward the camera perched above the alley, letting the gesture double as a silent acknowledgment and a private little mockery. Even if she had signed off, he knew she was probably still watching. She couldn’t help it. The entire city was her nervous system.

    “Tch.” Izaya muttered as he slid the phone into his pocket. “Bossy knife-woman.”

    But credit where credit was due, with her help, he had swept out far more pellets than he ever could have alone. Or with Shizuo.

    His expression tightened at the thought.

    Start over?

    The protozoan’s voice echoed through his mind far louder than Izaya liked. That stupid question shouldn’t have lodged itself in him the way it had. He leapt down from the rooftop, landing lightly, coat fluttering behind him. When he straightened, he froze.

    Ikebukuro.

    He was close enough now that the familiar skyline pressed in around him. Familiar... and unwelcome. Apparently, his momentary pause was enough for Kasane to sense something... or rather start the mockery. His phone buzzed with a message dripping in false provocation.

    (What’s wrong? Frightened? Don’t tell me you are hesitating.)

    Izaya rolled his eyes. “Please. If I were afraid of Shizu-chan, Kasane-chan, I would have died a decade ago.”

    He typed nothing instead speaking aloud, knowing damn well she could still hear him through whatever microphone she still had tapped into.

    “I stopped because I didn’t think the shadows would be here.” He said casually to the empty air. “Not when you have your followers stationed in this area.”

    A rare slip in her composure followed. The next message was stiff. Overly formal.

    (…I also thought that. But I’m sensing residual shadows. Several.)

    Izaya bit the inside of his cheek, careful to angle his head away from the nearest camera. He wasn’t letting her see the tension in his jaw. He had made sure only the real Scarves were here, as well as Blue Squares. If those fake Scarves were gone, if he had stripped Rio of influence here…

    Then why were there shadows in the one place Rio should have had zero foothold?

    “…That annoying creature.” Izaya whispered. “What else did you leave behind?”

    Kasane’s typing indicator blinked, then stopped. Then blinked again.

    (There is… a strong presence. Please be cautious...)

    Another blink. Then...

    (I have an emergency. Our search ends for today.)

    Just like that.

    Izaya’s brows snapped together. She wouldn’t have pulled out unless something truly dangerous had brushed her network. Something Rio-related, perhaps? Or something must have happened at her agency. Something big.

    He immediately started digging through public threads, buried signals, and corporate chatter. Something had jolted Kasane’s agency hard enough to pull her attention away.

    But then...

    A flash of blonde caught his eye.

    Izaya’s breath stilled. “…What...”

    No. Impossible. Shizuo was nowhere near here. Earlier, he had heard screaming and felt the tremors from several blocks away. The protozoan was clearly still in Ikebukuro, but far from this district.

    He blinked hard.

    The figure had vanished.

    Annoyance prickled through him, sharp as static. His instincts, which rarely failed him, stirred in a way he deeply disliked.

    He moved toward where he had glimpsed the shape, posture low. The shadows stretched long around him as he slipped from the alley into direct light.

    He tugged his hood down. He needed a clear view.

    People recognized him immediately. Whispers, sharp looks, a few nervous steps backward. He ignored them. He barely even heard them.

    His eyes scanned the street, sharp, restless.

    Blonde hair. Broad shoulders. A familiar posture.

    “…No.” He muttered, shaking his head. “I might be wrong...”

    But his pulse didn’t believe that.

    So he followed. Not running. Not yet. But with a precision that he didn't suddenly feel having. Whatever he had seen, whoever he had seen... he was going to confirm it.

    One way or another.

    -ooo-

    The van rumbled lazily at the curb, engine idling, sunlight bouncing off its dented sides. Inside, the mood was as comfortably chaotic as always.

    Saburou was half-slouched in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping to the beat blasting through the speakers, his idol’s newest track, loud enough to shake the mirrors. He mouthed the lyrics, eyes slightly glazed in contentment.

    In the back, Erika and Walker were in their own universe.

    “So then... then, Walker-kun... they actually gave the side character an entire emotional arc!” Erika said, eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “Like... he apologizes! He admits he was wrong! When does that ever happen?!”

    Walker leaned forward, elbows on the back of Saburou’s seat, nodding with intense seriousness. “Right? Right! And now the protagonist finally makes sense! Like... he doesn’t just want revenge anymore. He wants closure, and he wants to fix things. He’s thinking. He’s growing.”

    “Character development!” Erika declared dramatically.

    “Blessed be character development.” Walker agreed, just as dramatically.

    But mid-gesture, the music cut off.

    Erika blinked. Walker froze. Both slowly turned to the front.

    Saburou had his finger on the pause button, his expression unusually serious.

    “Hey.” He said, looking between them. “Did… either of you get a message from Kadota-san?”

    Erika and Walker exchanged a look, wide-eyed, guilty, and confused, and shook their heads in unison.

    “That’s weird.” Saburou muttered, frowning down at his phone. “Kadota-san always texts if he’s gonna be late.”

    Walker leaned over the seat. “Maybe he’s still at work?”

    Saburou immediately shook his head. “No way. Kadota would have said something. He never goes radio silent.”

    Erika bit her lip, already dialing. “Maybe he forgot his phone? Or... or he’s asleep? Or-”

    The call went straight to voicemail. Erika’s face drained.

    “That’s not right…” She whispered.

    The air in the van shifted. The warmth of their earlier chatter faded into something tight, uneasy. Saburou turned the engine fully on, the van humming under them as if bracing for movement.

    “If he doesn’t text in the next ten minutes, we...”

    Ping.

    Erika startled so hard she nearly dropped her phone. She looked at the screen.

    Her eyes widened.

    Then... “SABUROU! DRIVE! NOW!”

    Walker jerked upright. “What?! What happened?!”

    “DOTACHIN IS IN A FIGHT!” Erika shouted, already grabbing the door handle even though there was nowhere to go.

    Saburou slammed his foot on the pedal before she finished the sentence, tires squealing. The van shot forward. The Van gang was in motion.

    -ooo-

    Anri’s fingers tightened around her phone as she lifted her eyes again toward the clash unfolding in the street.

    Kadota and Chikage were locked in a brutal exchange, more brutal than anything she had seen between them before. Chikage’s fist connected with Kadota’s shoulder, and Kadota didn’t dodge. He countered instead, fast, precise, his knuckles splitting open against Chikage’s jaw.

    Both of them were covered in bruises already. Ugly purples blooming under their skin. Their breathing was ragged. This wasn’t a scuffle.

    This was a fight that had been going on far, far too long. Anri swallowed.

    She didn’t know why. She didn’t know who threw the first punch.

    But she knew something was wrong.

    Very wrong.

    She had only come outside to clear her mind. Things had been quiet lately, almost unnaturally so. No fake Yellow Scarves wandering the streets, no gatherings, no suspicious activity. After that final photo appeared online, the duo had managed to confuse them again… at least temporarily.

    The reenactment of the photograph had been strange to see, but not unbelievable. It had felt… nostalgic, almost. Natural. After all, that place, that ruined bakery... mattered to them. She didn’t question it. The two of them were complicated, inseparable, and she had long since accepted she would never fully understand the depth of their connection.

    But today…

    Today, she sensed the Slasher again.

    That horrible wave of death, cold and sharp, had hit her like a blade sliding under the ribs. Her feet moved automatically. Saika, as always, wanted to love that aura, wanted to take it back and destroy it, and Anri was letting it. She wanted to see the Slasher now that she had the chance again. Saika guided her as if pulling an invisible thread, leading her down alleys and across intersections until...

    Chaos.

    Fake Yellow Scarves... more of them than she had expected to see ever again threw themselves at Toramaru members, both sides screaming, collapsing, rising again, as if fueled by something that wasn’t their own will.

    Their auras were wrong.

    Blackened. Thick. Unmistakably corrupted.

    Shadows from that Slasher.

    Anri’s breath hitched. She took a step back, then another. If she got too close, if even one of those shadows brushed her...

    Saika would react. She might lose control. She couldn’t. Not now. Not here.

    She shifted sideways, putting more distance between herself and the nearest corrupted fighter...

    And then she froze.

    Her eyes locked onto a familiar figure.

    Kadota.

    His expression was twisted... not quite rage, not quite confusion. Something feverish. Something not his.

    He fought with skill, but there was a sharpness to his movements that didn’t belong to Kadota. A deadliness. A recklessness. His eyes looked wrong, too bright, too narrow, it was like... it was like it was...

    ...not him.

    And facing him, Chikage looked furious but not entirely out of control. More like frustrated. Trying to talk, even mid-punch. Anri couldn’t hear the words, but she could feel the intent.

    Something between them was boiling, and neither of them had started this willingly. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling Saika hum, restless. She knew why...

    Kadota was also corrupted.

    Not him... He was steady, too important to those around him. He must have tried to stop the fight, but was corrupted, and that was a problem. She looked back up at the fight.

    Kadota ducked a swing, slammed his forearm into Chikage’s ribs, and followed with a strike harsh enough to make even Anri flinch.

    The van screeched to a halt half a block from where Anri stood. Erika practically threw the door open before the wheels fully stopped, Walker and Saburou scrambling after her.

    “Anri-chan!” Erika rushed forward.

    Anri turned to them, relief soft but visible in her eyes. “You came.”

    Walker’s breath hitched as he took in the chaos around them. Fake Yellow Scarves clashing with Toramaru members, fists flying, bodies slamming into parked cars, but none of the fighters seemed to notice outsiders. It was as if the world narrowed to only their opponent.

    “What… what is this?” Walker whispered.

    “They don’t see us…” Saburou added, uneasy.

    “No.” Anri said quietly. “They can’t. Saika says… they are wrapped in something else. Something from that Slasher. Their auras are all black!”

    She pointed. Kadota and Chikage were still at it, neither backing down, their breath now sharp, loud, strained. Kadota swung again, slower, exhaustion pulling at his limbs, but the same wild edge in his eyes remained.

    Walker stepped forward instinctively. “We need to stop them!”

    “No!” Anri grabbed his sleeve. “Their auras are… corrupted. If you get too close, it will pull you in.”

    The entire van gang froze, horror creeping over their faces.

    “How did this happen to Dotachin?!” Erika cried. “He wouldn’t... never...”

    “He didn’t choose it.” Anri said. "I... I think he tried to stop the fighting. And the aura swallowed him.”

    They all looked again at Kadota’s trembling arms, at Chikage’s heaving breaths, at the blood on both of them. They didn’t have long.

    “What do we do?” Saburou asked, voice cracking.

    Everyone looked at one another. Everyone had the same answer.

    Nothing. They had no idea.

    Erika cupped her hands and screamed. “DOTACHIIINNNN!! STOP! PLEASE!”

    Her voice echoed over the fighting. Kadota didn’t even flinch.

    Neither did Chikage.

    It was as if their names, their friends, their pasts didn’t exist.

    “What’s going on?!” A new voice yelled.

    Kida skidded toward them, panting, sweat on his forehead.

    “Kida-kun!” Erika shouted. “Be careful!”

    Kida froze mid-step. “Why?! What’s...”

    “They are infected by something!” Walker said. “Some… shadow aura thing!”

    Kida’s eyes widened. “I-I saw fights starting everywhere! Blocks away! People throwing each other into walls... I thought it was a gang brawl, but this... this is something else.”

    “Why?” Saburou asked helplessly. “Why them? Why now?”

    Kida stared at the nearest fake Yellow Scarf, watching him try to tear through a Toramaru fighter with single-minded obsession. Then his gaze shifted.

    He frowned. “Doesn’t something seem off to you all?” He asked.

    Everyone stared blankly.

    “They are all fighting someone specific. One person. They aren’t jumping between targets.” Kida stepped closer to Kadota and Chikage’s fight. “Kadota is only focused on Chikage. Chikage is only focused on Kadota. The rest of them... same thing. They pick one opponent, and it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

    The group fell silent.

    It was true.

    Walker swallowed. “But… but why? That aura shouldn’t make them choose targets... as far as I understand.”

    “All of them are affected.” Anri murmured. “Every one of them. So why are they fighting each other and not everyone else…?”

    Kida looked at her strangely, eyebrows pulling together. “Maybe… maybe they are seeing something we can’t.”

    Anri bit her lip.

    “We have to stop it!” Walker insisted.

    “And how?!” Erika snapped, voice cracking. “We are not leaders! We don’t have any kind of plan!”

    Kida’s eyes suddenly widened.

    “…Leader…” He whispered it first. Then louder, clearer. “Yeah. Leader.”

    Everyone stared at him.

    Walker squinted. “Kida-kun… that means nothing right now.”

    “No." Kida shook his head hard. “No. We don’t just need a leader… We need…”

    He swallowed, throat tight. “…the mastermind.”

    The van gang all inhaled sharply. He didn’t mean mastermind as in 'the one who caused trouble.' He meant...

    The only person who had fought this aura. The only one who had destroyed it. The only one who had resisted it and walked away alive.

    Izaya.

    Anri stiffened. Erika’s jaw dropped. Walker paled.

    Saburou muttered. “You can’t be serious…”

    “I am.” Kida said firmly. “Who else could possibly know how to stop it? He already dealt with this monster before. He’s the only one who understands how this aura works.”

    “And how are we supposed to find him?!” Erika demanded.

    Kida pointed behind him.

    “Easy. I saw him some blocks away. Right before everything exploded.”

    Everyone blinked.

    “…WHAT?!”

    Kida didn’t wait. He turned and ran.

    “KIDA!!” Walker shouted.

    Kida didn’t listen. He needed to find Izaya and fast. He didn't like the idea, but now it was their only option. After all, he knew it was not his doing since he had seen him looking around disoriented, as if he was searching for someone.

    Kida hoped he would help... he had to.

    -ooo-

    Shizuo and Celty finally slowed their pace, stopping near the quiet edge of the sidewalk where the evening light softened the streets. For a moment, neither spoke... just like old times, when silence between them felt natural.

    Celty lifted her phone and typed. [Are you doing okay?]

    Shizuo let out a long breath, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders. “Yeah.” He said. “I’m… okay.”

    Celty tilted her helmet slightly, a gesture like narrowing her eyes. She typed again. [You seem calm. Relaxed, even. After everything.]

    Shizuo gave a short laugh. “Not entirely. You know that. We still need to destroy her.”

    Celty didn’t type anything this time. She didn’t have to. They both knew who he meant.

    Rio.

    Her body was gone, yes... but her presence lingered. Her influence. Her shadows or pellets were still out there.... The way she had twisted everything she touched. Celty still felt the echo of that fight under her skin.

    Shizuo shoved his hands in his pockets. “I… let Izaya handle it.”

    Celty jerked back slightly, surprised. She quickly typed.

    [You let Izaya deal with Rio alone? Why? She’s dangerous. She hates him. We all saw it. That could kill him, Shizuo.]

    Shizuo stared up at the sky, thinking for a long, long moment. Celty waited... she had told him she trusted him, but this? Letting Izaya fight alone? It was idiotic even for Shizuo.

    Finally, Shizuo spoke.

    “He has his way of handling her. He always did. After all…” His gaze lowered to the ground. “…he’s the only one who can touch her.”

    Celty froze at that. [What is that supposed to mean?]

    Shizuo lifted his head again, exhaling smoke. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

    Celty didn’t answer. Shizuo continued. “The shadows.”

    It clicked instantly. Izaya was the only one who had managed to strike them, who had destroyed them. Celty remembered the sound, that guttural, inhuman scream when Izaya’s blade cut through the corruption. He was the only one who could do that.

    But… the shadows could also affect Izaya.

    Celty typed furiously, her worry clear. [That’s still dangerous. He could be affected. He has been affected. Doing it alone... it’s too much.]

    Shizuo watched the words on her screen, then flicked ash from his cigarette.

    “That’s why…” He paused, jaw tight. “That’s why I’m worried.”

    Celty stared at him. Worried? For Izaya?

    She shouldn’t have been shocked. Not after the photos on that site, not after Shinra’s birthday gift, not after everything the two had gone through... fighting, bleeding, relying on each other even when they pretended they hated every second of it.

    Whatever Izaya and Shizuo were... enemies, partners... something unnamed... they cared for each other.

    Shizuo spoke again, quieter this time. “I don’t like that he’s handling it alone. But I know I’m not any help right now. If I get involved…” He grimaced. “…I might fuck it up again.”

    Celty typed. [Fuck it up? What do you mean?]

    Shizuo opened his mouth. But before he could answer, another voice cut sharply into the air. Shizuo and Celty both snapped their heads toward the speaker.

    A man stood there, hood up, scarf wrapped around his face, jacket the color of a sickly, artificial yellow. Not their Yellow Scarves. Not the real thing.

    A fake Scarf. Shizuo straightened from leaning on the railing, shock flickering across his features.

    “…How...” His voice cracked once before hardening. “How are you here? You should have left. All of you should have been gone.”

    But the yellow-clad man spoke again, low, glitching, a language Celty didn’t recognize, but Shizuo clearly did. His eyes widened. Something dark flickered over his face, a shadow crawling up from an old memory. Celty raised her phone to type, asking what he said.

    Shizuo beat her to it.

    “He said...” Shizuo growled. “...that they are not done playing.”

    [Playing?] Celty typed quickly. [What is that supposed to mean?]

    Shizuo didn’t answer. Because he suddenly wasn’t looking at the man anymore. He was looking around them. More yellow-clad figures slipped out from alley mouths, from behind cars, from the shadowed edges of buildings, slowly, silently circling them. Twenty. Thirty. More.

    Celty tensed, shadows spilling from her neck, ready to form her scythe.

    Shizuo muttered something sharp and dangerous in their language. The circle tightened, annoyed, almost offended. Another tense back-and-forth. Celty watched Shizuo’s face twist and shift... annoyed, confused, angry, then confused again.

    “They are speaking nonsense.” Shizuo said finally. “It’s like… riddles. They haven’t made sense for days, but today they are more annoying than before.”

    [What did they say?]

    Shizuo rubbed a hand over his face, frustrated.

    “He said...” Shizuo hesitated because even he knew how ridiculous it sounded. “...that we are going down with the agency.”

    Celty blinked. [What agency?]

    “I don’t know.” Shizuo snapped. “None of this makes sense...”

    Another yellow scarf spoke. Then another. Then another. Voices overlapping, chaotic, each speaking something different. Each whispering, babbling, muttering.

    Shizuo’s annoyance evaporated. Now he just looked… shocked.

    “What…” His breath hitched. “This is all nonsense!” He stopped.

    His head jerked up. His eyes widened, really widened. His entire posture changed, straightening with sudden clarity and dread.

    “Celty.” He whispered.

    Celty felt it immediately... the shift. The surge of power, the focus, the sharpened instinct. The same presence Shizuo had when he took command back during the fake fight he had with Rio. When he stopped holding back and played along with her.

    Celty lowered her shadows and focused. And then she felt it. The auras around them... dozens of them... thick and suffocating.

    Malice.

         Death.

           Blackness.

             Slasher’s aura.

    Rio.

    She had latched onto these people. Corrupted them. Warped their minds. Twisted their fears into hallucinations. Shizuo came to the same conclusion at the same time.

    “They are not seeing us.” He said. “They are seeing… their worst memories. Their worst enemies. Everyone of them is fighting ghosts.”

    Celty didn’t need to type the obvious. They were surrounded by Rio-infected puppets. And touching even one...

    ...would spread the corruption further.

    Shizuo didn’t hesitate. Before a single corrupted body could reach them, he ripped the railing beside him clean off the concrete and hurled it like a spear through several Yellow Scarves, creating a gap.

    “GET ON!”

    Celty didn’t argue. Shooter moved in a swirl of shadows, and Shizuo leaped onto the back. The moment its wheels touched asphalt, she surged forward... just as hands and claws of shadow lunged from behind.

    “How is this possible?” Shizuo roared over the wind, gripping the bike with one hand and throwing enemies off with the other. “She shouldn’t have this much influence back yet!”

    Celty typed with one hand, shadows forming the letters in the air beside him as she raced between streets.

    [Are you sure you destroyed her?]

    "Yes!” Shizuo snarled. “We destroyed her body... unless…”

    He cut himself off.

    [Unless what?] Celty demanded.

    Shizuo didn’t answer... not immediately because more corrupted Yellow Scarves burst out onto motorcycles behind them, engines roaring, eyes burning with that black Slasher glow. Celty swerved hard to avoid them, tires screeching. Shizuo grabbed the back of a chasing rider and flung him into a pole.

    And finally, he answered.

    “Unless someone’s fear was strong enough to feed her. To bring part of her influence back.”

    Celty’s hands tightened on the handlebars. She didn’t need to hear more. She already knew what he meant.

    If this kept spreading…

    If more people got caught in fear…

    Rio wouldn’t just return. She would return stronger.

    -ooo-

        Izaya pushed through the thinning crowd with a speed that didn’t match his usual playful steps. Every glimpse of blonde hair, every flicker of that tall silhouette pulled him forward like a hook lodged behind his ribs. But each time he rounded a corner, each time he was sure he had finally caught up...

    ...nothing.

    Only an empty sidewalk. Only the echo of his own footsteps.

    And that was the part that unnerved him.

    Because the figure didn’t just look like Shizuo. Someone insignificant. No... there was something else in the way he moved. A familiarity Izaya couldn’t place. Someone he had known long before violence and swinging vending machines became normal parts of his day. Someone tied to memories he didn’t willingly revisit. Someone who he thought of the past. A past that he wanted forgotten...

    Annoying, he clicked his tongue. This is getting irritating. Still, he kept following.

    He noticed, in the corner of his eye, how a passerby watched him. Not with recognition, nor fear of the informant they knew. Instead, their eyes slid away from him like they were avoiding something infectious. Like if they looked too long, something terrible would happen.

    Izaya had seen those glances before. Towards Shizuo. They were afraid... but why? What did he do to cause that? He was missing something.

    The glances were never directed at him this strongly.

    He ignored it. Tried to. The glances, the way people crossed to the other side of the street and watched him with shocked eyes, were normal for him. He was used to it. But seeing them avoid him that badly and most noticeably... the quiet.

    Ikebukuro had never been this empty. Not even on its quietest afternoons. The silence felt wrong, like someone had sucked out the city’s breath.

    Then... there.

    Blonde hair again.

    The figure slipped behind a building, and Izaya didn’t think, he ran. He decided to revisit the weird feeling he had, as now his instincts guided him. His chest burned with urgency he didn’t understand. His mind kept repeating the same maddening question.

    Why does he feel familiar? Why do I need to know who he is?

    He turned into the alley...

    Empty.

    Typical.

    Izaya stopped, breathing once, sharply.

    “Am I imagining things?” He whispered.

    He didn’t believe that. His instincts... so sharp they bordered on unnatural... told him the figure was real. But the way he was being watched? The way people avoided him? That wasn’t right. Not even for him.

    Was he the one becoming unstable? Or… had something shifted in Ikebukuro while he wasn’t looking?

    He exited the alley with a tightening in his chest. Fewer people. Thinning crowds. A city that looked like it was being quietly evacuated. He pulled his phone out to check the time...

    “IZAYA!”

    The shout exploded across the street.

    Izaya’s head snapped up, shock flickering across his features... not only because someone recognized him and he felt relieved...

    …but because the voice cracked with panic.

    Kida. Sprinting toward him as he had just spotted a lifeline. Izaya blinked. Maybe that's why his instincts told him to wear his trademark jacket. The way he saw Kida run towards him showed that he knew he was nearby, meaning he must have seen him. Which was weird... Kida Masaomi despised him. The last thing he expected was relief in the boy’s eyes.

    Yet that’s exactly what he saw...

    Relief, fear, and the desperate look of someone who had finally found the one person who might answer what was happening. Kida-kun shouldn’t look at him like that, Izaya thought. Not unless something was very, very wrong.

    Kida came to a stop, panting, eyes wide.

    “Izaya-san... thank the gods.”

    Izaya stared, mind sharpening. Izaya-san? That tone wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a greeting.

    It was a call for help.

    Kida grabbed Izaya’s sleeve before the informant could even form a question, breath still ragged, panic spilling through every word. Now Izaya watched Kida with puzzled eyes when finally the kid found his voice to speak.

    “It’s Kadota-san! He’s not listening to anyone!” Kida choked out. “He and Chikage... they are fighting like they are trying to kill each other. I think... I think they are affected!”

    Izaya froze. Not visibly. But his pupils tightened... not with amusement, not with annoyance. Shock.

    Impossible, Izaya thought immediately. We broke her. We crushed the vessel. There shouldn't be enough left for her to latch onto anyone this quickly… unless... the pellets had found someone...

    Unless someone’s fear was strong enough to feed her. Strong enough to regrow the influence she had lost. And... Izaya was late....

    Dammit!

    Kida tugged at his sleeve harder. “Izaya-san... please. I don’t know what to do. I know it is the shadows of the Slasher! We can’t touch it! They are going to kill each other if we don’t stop them...”

    “Show me.” Izaya said.

    Instantly. No hesitation. No teasing remark. No smile. He just broke into a sprint.

    Kida blinked, stunned for a second before running after him. It wasn’t the speed itself... it was the urgency, the raw, sharp focus on Izaya’s face as if he feared what he would find at the end of this street.

    “K-Kadota’s near the practice fields!” Kida called out. “Chikage’s gang is there too! They are all affected!”

    Izaya didn’t show the way his mouth curved down... How the hell did she gain this much influence back? This quickly? He had underestimated her. Or overestimated the strength of the vessel’s destruction. Or...

    ...or someone was feeding her, knowingly or not.

    Kida caught up just enough to ask. “Izaya-san! What are you going to do?!”

    For the first time since running, Izaya glanced at him. Eyes sharp. Unreadable.

    “I don’t know.”

    Kida’s breath hitched, but he understood. Izaya needed to see. He needed information before he made a move, before he risked touching shadows he could not fight physically. They sprinted down the narrow street, Kida a few meters behind, Izaya moving with a speed born of fear he would never admit.

    But someone else saw it. Someone else watched the two figures rushing toward the chaos. From the rooftop above, half-shadowed by the dimming dusk, the blonde silhouette... leaned forward slightly.

    A slow smile stretched across their face. As Izaya and Kida disappeared around the corner toward the fight, the silhouette whispered into the empty air... words no one heard... and continued to watch.

    -ooo-

    The van gang stood tense, shoulders rigid, not daring to blink as Kadota and Chikage kept swinging at each other, their movements heavy and slowing yet still fueled by that unnatural malice. Toramaru members fought fake Yellow Scarves nearby with the same dead-eyed focus, every clash echoing like a warning. At any moment, any one of them could turn toward the innocent bystanders if any remained.

    Anri clutched her sword in both trembling hands, watching every aura flicker, twist, and cloud darker. She kept her distance, though. Even one stray touch could spread it. Even worse… she could spread it back.

    Erika muttered under her breath. “They are all insane… It’s like they don’t even see us.”

    “No.” Walker corrected, similarly shaken. “It’s like we are not even part of their world right now…”

    Before anyone could respond, footsteps pounded toward them.

    Fast. Purposeful.

    And the last person they would ever admit to wanting to see at a moment like this...

    Izaya Orihara.

    He ran straight toward the field of chaos, his eyes scanning everything... Toramaru, fake Scarves, the fights, the bleeding fighters, the widening radius of corruption. When his gaze finally landed on Kadota and Chikage, he stopped just long enough for his expression to shift.

    Sharp. Calculating. And… disturbed.

    Kida arrived moments later, nearly collapsing, wheezing. That damn bastard and his superhuman stamina...

    Anri and the van gang quickly explained the situation. How the fighting had escalated, how more and more groups were turning violent, how Kadota had tried to stop it, only to succumb to himself. Izaya listened silently, eyes narrowing just a fraction as Anri mentioned the aura.

    “It’s getting stronger.” Anri said. “Dark. Wrong. All of them have it.”

    “Recheck them.” Izaya said, confusing Anri. “See which aura is the strongest.”

    Anri blinked. But did as she was told. There must be a reason. She obeyed and turned her gaze back to the field, Saika’s vision sweeping over the fighters.

    Izaya turned to the others. “The aura spreads through skin contact. Don’t fight them barehanded.”

    Erika jolted. “Wait... we can fight them?!”

    Izaya nodded. “Not advised. But if it becomes necessary, you can. Just don’t let their skin touch yours. That's how it is transferred from bare skin.”

    Walker swallowed. “And how do we… defeat it? The aura.”

    Izaya didn’t even look at him.

    “We can’t.”

    Silence. The kind that crushed breath. The kind that made the world feel smaller.

    “What?!” Everyone erupted.

    Izaya’s jaw tightened, annoyance flickering across his face as he watched Kadota nearly drop to one knee before forcing himself up again.

    “We. Cannot. Defeat. The aura...” Izaya repeated, voice low, sharp, and honest... too honest.

    Kida stood up more violently than he wanted as he yelled. “So what!? We just watch them tear each other apart?! You are the mastermind, right?! You would rather die than lose control of your plans!”

    Izaya turned his head slowly...

    ...and the look he gave Kida froze the boy solid.

    Cold. Piercing. A reminder that even with everything exhausted, Izaya Orihara was not someone to provoke.

    “We can’t defeat the aura…” Izaya said again, softer which was deadlier.

    Then he continued.

    “…but we can defeat the Slasher.”

    Erika’s eyes went wide. “You mean...”

    Izaya didn’t nod. Didn’t need to. Everyone felt the confirmation. If they defeated the Slasher... the aura would be gone.

    “And how the hell will we fight them?!” Kida demanded.

    Before Izaya could answer, Anri spoke suddenly, her voice trembling.

    “The one with the strongest aura… is Kadota-san.”

    The words hit like a physical blow. Izaya’s eyes snapped to Kadota again, studying him, really studying him, and he grimaced.

    Kida frowned. “Why is that important?!”

    Anri echoed the confusion. “Y-Yes… why?"

    Izaya exhaled once. Slow.

    “As the inheritor of Saika...” He said emotionlessly. “...I thought you might have understood this sooner, Anri-chan.”

    Anri stiffened. She felt the blood drain from her face. Did… did Izaya mean…

    Kadota was the Slasher?

    Her hands tightened so hard around her shirt that her knuckles went white. No. No... she wouldn’t allow that. She couldn’t. Kadota was steady, kind, and grounded. He wasn’t capable of something so twisted.

    But... Her thoughts spiraled into denial until Erika’s voice snapped through the air.

    “NO WAY DOTACHIN is the Slasher!” Erika screamed at Izaya, her voice cracking. “I refuse to believe it!”

    Walker flinched at her volume. Kida looked ready to swing at Izaya again. Izaya merely sighed long, an annoyed exhale, the kind that shut everyone up instantly.

    That alone told them enough.

    Kadota wasn’t the Slasher.

    So then… what? What did Izaya mean? Anri’s eyes slowly widened with realization... Saika’s sense was telling her the truth that her human mind had missed.

    “He… he’s the one who has the shadows.” She whispered, horrified. “Kadota-san is the one who’s spreading it. He was infected first.”

    Izaya nodded once. “Exactly. He carries the shadows. He is the original point of contact.”

    Kida’s jaw dropped. “Y-You mean the Slasher hit him?!”

    “No.” Anri stepped in before Izaya could answer, her voice trembling as she pieced the logic together. “The Slasher must have… affected him. Given him the shadow. Without a cut.”

    Izaya shook his head sharply. “No. Impossible.”

    Saburou stepped forward, confused. “Why? Why is it impossible?”

    Izaya’s eyes... shifted, showing something like frustration.

    “Do you honestly think Dotachin would be that easily persuaded to touch the shadows?” Izaya asked quietly.

    Everyone fell silent again. …Yeah. No one could imagine that.

    “So what then?” Kida demanded. “If he didn’t let the Slasher affect him, then what the hell happened?!”

    Izaya turned fully toward him, expression finally cracking enough to show urgency as he was now willingly giving them the information.

    “Dotachin must have touched something that already had the shadows embedded in it...” Izaya said. “Something the Slasher prepared beforehand. Something that carried the infection.”

    He scanned the fight again. Chikage and Kadota were still hammering at each other with bare fists. Around them, the others fought with pipes, boards, anything blunt. Izaya grimaced. No one was using sharp objects. And that was because Rio wanted to be the one who cut. She wanted to remember who she had cut so she could transform into them.

    He clenched his teeth. If this continued… if Kadota kept spreading that aura through each blow… Then Rio’s influence would grow exponentially. And when it reached critical mass...

    Rio would return. Stronger than ever.

    Izaya swallowed the rising panic and forced himself to think. A plan. He needed a plan. He needed to find the object Kadota touched... whatever Rio used.

    Kasane… She'd better have found Rio’s life force. If she didn’t…

    His hands shook.

    It would all be over. Everything would be for nothing.

    “I can’t see anything either!” Erika shouted, scanning Kadota desperately. “He isn’t holding anything! Nothing is on him! Nothing looks strange!”

    “What kind of thing are we even looking for?!” Walker asked, voice thin.

    Izaya grimaced.

    “Anything. Absolutely anything. The shadows can be embedded into an object, a surface, a material, or even clothing. Anything he touched could have carried it.”

    Kida felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

    “That’s not good.” He whispered, fear rising in his throat.

    Izaya didn’t answer. Izaya’s eyes didn’t move away from the chaos in front of him, but he felt the shift behind him. The slump of shoulders, the quiet exhale of defeat, that sharp slide into hopelessness.

    Unacceptable.

    He would not lose to that damn monster. He would not allow Rio to crawl her way back into existence through something as pathetic as despair. And above all, he absolutely refused to be humiliated by a creature he had beaten once before.

    Just the thought made irritation coil in his chest.

    He straightened slightly.

    “Whatever Dotachin touched...” Izaya said finally, breaking the tense quiet. “...it must still be on him. He’s carrying it even now. Otherwise, the aura surrounding him wouldn’t be this concentrated.”

    Kida latched onto the words immediately. “So… you are saying it’s still on him? Anri-chan, can’t you pinpoint what it is?”

    Izaya let out a tiny, hidden sigh of relief. Good. That was better. If they were sinking into hopelessness, they would be ripe targets for Rio’s influence. But if they stayed focused... even scared, even angry, they were less vulnerable.

    Anri shook her head, frustrated. “No… I can’t. The aura is too strong and too chaotic. It’s drowning out everything else.”

    Walker groaned. “And when we find it, then what? How are we supposed to destroy it? Just stomp on it? Burn it? What?”

    Before anyone could spiral further, a sharp, familiar sound cut through the tension.

    Izaya laughed.

    That laugh.

    Under any other circumstance, they would have all flinched, backed up, or grabbed weapons. But now...

    Hope surged in their chests.

    That laugh meant only one thing...

    Izaya Orihara had a plan.

    “Oh~” Izaya chuckled, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Destroying it won’t be a problem.”

    He looked off to the side, eyes narrowing. Something had caught his attention. The smirk that followed was the kind that could freeze blood or ignite adrenaline.

    His trademark smirk.

    And with that expression returning to his face, it was as if the world snapped back into place.

    He was back.

    Back in control. Back in motion. Back in the game.

    Izaya turned toward them fully, his voice taking on that unnerving, theatrical playfulness they all knew far too well.

    “Ne~” He said lightly. “...would you all like to participate in my game?”

    Any other day, that line would have earned groans, curses, or someone threatening to hit him with a pipe.

    But now?

    They actually smiled. Relieved. Grateful. Ready.

    Because if Izaya Orihara had a plan, then maybe they had a chance.

    -ooo-

    Everyone was stunned the moment they realized...

    Izaya’s insane plan was actually working.

    It had been almost too simple.

    Simple enough that no one but Izaya would have even tried it.

    All they needed was to move Kadota. Move him far enough, isolated enough, that Anri could pinpoint the object, the thing carrying the shadows. Move him somewhere he couldn’t accidentally infect anyone else.

    And Izaya had found the perfect place. The empty practice field nearby, surrounded by a tall metal fence. Locked. Secure. Completely unused in the chaos.

    “The key, Kida-kun.” Izaya told Kida.

    Kida didn’t even hesitate. For once, he didn’t argue, didn’t complain... just ran.

    The moment he returned, breathless but triumphant, Izaya stepped forward with that dangerous calm of his.

    “How are you going to get him to follow you?” Walker whispered, horrified.

    Izaya’s smirk said everything.

    “The aura wants me.” He said quietly. “The Slasher wants me.”

    And he was right.

    The instant Izaya stepped within Kadota’s warped field of awareness, Kadota’s eyes snapped toward him... sharp, murderous, glowing with a hunger Anri felt like a living pulse.

    Kadota lunged. Exactly as planned.

    Izaya took off running, fast enough that even in this corrupt state, Kadota had no choice but to follow the movement like a predator. The van gang moved with perfect timing. Three bodies tackling Chikage at once before he could sprint after Kadota, holding him down with every ounce of strength and every layer of fabric they had between them.

    Chikage roared, wild, feral, the shadows twisting his aura like black fire but physical weight and numbers were enough to pin him.

    Just long enough.

    Kida swung the gate shut. The lock clicked.

    And suddenly, everything hinged on Izaya.

    Inside the fenced field, Kadota showed no hesitation, no hesitation at all. He attacked with lethal force, fists slicing through the air like he meant to break bones.

    Izaya dodged. Kadota was fast. Faster than usual. Stronger, too. Every blow could crack ribs.

    And Izaya didn’t fight back. Not once.

    He kept moving, eyes darting, analyzing Kadota’s clothes, pockets, the way he moved, anything that seemed off. He needed to find the object before Kadota’s strength overwhelmed him.

    Yet something nagged the back of Izaya’s mind.

    Everyone who was corrupted was fighting in duos. Not chaotic violence against everyone in reach. Not the all-consuming frenzy the shadows usually caused. No...this was structured.

    Paired. A duel. One target per person.

    Why?

    Izaya stored the thought away. He would figure it out later.

    Outside the gate, Anri knelt with her hands touching the ground, giving her leverage. This was taking too much of her energy, but she needed to find the object. Her aura-sensing stretched desperately toward the two locked inside. Her gaze trembled with fear...not for herself, but for him.

    Izaya was right.

    The aura wanted him. It hungered for him. And after everything she had spent with the informant... she was scared. She knew that he worked with Shizuo and knew that they could speak the foreign language, making them dangerous, but now... now she saw him trying to save them once again. For what reason she didn't know... maybe his own, maybe he would ask for something later on, but for now... she cared about him.

    She could feel the aura pulsing off Kadota like a living heartbeat. Twisted, hateful, focused entirely on Izaya. And that made him the perfect lure… but also the most vulnerable.

    If the shadows touched him...

    ...if Izaya got infected...

    It would be over. Completely over.

    The van gang kept struggling with Chikage, still careful not to touch skin, grunting under his wild strength. But Erika looked up, voice shaking.

    “Iza-Iza… is talking to him.”

    He was. Between dodges, between deadly swings, Izaya’s voice slipped through the field. Low. Steady.

    He wasn’t just searching for the object. He was trying to reach Kadota himself.

    Trying to pull him back. Trying to see... if Kadota, like Anri once had seen, could defeat the shadows from the inside.

    Anri’s breath caught. If Kadota could hear him… If Kadota could resist…

    Then maybe this wouldn’t end in destruction. Maybe Izaya wasn’t risking only his life...

    Maybe he was testing the one sliver of hope they had left.

    Kadota swung again, but Izaya slipped sideways, letting Kadota’s momentum pull him forward just enough to stumble. Not fall... Izaya wouldn’t let him collapse like that, but it was enough to break the rhythm of rage.

    This wasn’t just dodging to stay alive. Izaya was guiding him. Redirecting him. Keeping Kadota from hurting himself more than he already had.

    Kadota looked awful, everyone could see that. Bloodied, panting, body trembling under the strain of resisting the shadows and the fight that he had endured. Izaya never stopped moving, but every dodge was measured, precise, like he was trying to protect Kadota and himself at the same time.

    Anri watched, trembling, reaching out with Saika’s senses...

    "K-Kadota… he’s calmer.” Kida gasped, almost relieved.

    Anri’s eyes lit. It meant Izaya’s voice, his presence, his maddening calm... it was reaching something inside Kadota. He was hesitating. Trying to fight the aura.

    Trying to focus beyond it. Kadota stopped mid-lunge, chest heaving, staring at Izaya like he was trying to figure out why. Why was he attacking? Why did Izaya keep dodging without striking back?

    Izaya slowed too, circling, eyes scanning everything. Kadota’s jacket, sleeves, pockets, and shoes. Searching. Calculating.

    But before Anri could narrow down the object...

    The aura slammed into her senses like a physical blow.

    She screamed.

    “Anri!” Kida rushed to her, grabbing her shoulders, trying to steady her.

    Erika, Walker, Saburou... all turned toward her in panic.

    And that was the mistake.

    Chikage surged with sudden freedom, shoving all three aside with brute force and shadows burning under his skin. He bolted straight for the field. Izaya heard Anri’s scream, his head whipped toward her for a fraction of a second...

    ...which was all the time Chikage needed.

    The metal door exploded inward as Chikage smashed through it with a corrupted roar and lunged at Izaya.

    “IZAYA!” Everyone screamed.

    Izaya twisted just in time, the attack slicing past his ribs... too close, far too close, but he stayed upright, retreating backward while still keeping one eye on Kadota. Kadota stood frozen, shaking, watching Chikage enter as something inside him recoiled.

    “KADOTA, DON’T!” Kida yelled.

    But before he could react, Anri gasped in horror.

    “Th-the aura… it moved! It moved to Chikage!!”

    “What?!” Walker, Erika, and Saburou all shouted.

    Even Izaya flinched mid-dodge.

    Chikage swung again. Izaya ducked under it, but just as he did, Kadota suddenly lunged...

    Not at Chikage. At Izaya.

    Kadota’s fist connected, but Izaya threw his forearm up in time, absorbing the hit with a grunt. He slid back on his feet, breath sharp, eyes wide...

    This wasn’t randomness. This was a pattern.

    Anri screamed again, voice cracking. “The aura... it’s SHIFTING! Between them! Back and forth!”

    Izaya’s expression snapped. “That's... NOT GOOD!” He smirked, annoyed, diving out of the way as Chikage charged again.

    Outside the fence, the van gang froze in helpless fear.

    Walker whispered. “How?! How is the aura moving?! Kadota-san was supposed to be the one carrying the shadows...!”

    Izaya bit his lip as he dodged another blow, spinning away from the corrupted pair. He didn’t have time to answer, but he heard every word.

    And then something clicked. Something so simple. Something terrifying.

    Everyone fighting was in pairs. Everyone affected was locked in a duel.

    Two fighters. Each time.

    Meaning...

    Izaya’s eyes widened... and then they shone.

    He yelled, loud enough to shake all of them. “That’s why they are all fighting in duos!”

    He narrowly dodged another attack, rolling across the ground before springing back up.

    “They BOTH have the object! BOTH of them touched it! They are fighting because they are sharing the same corrupted link!”

    “What?!” Kida shouted back.

    “They are fighting for CONTROL!” Izaya roared. “For dominance over the shadows! That’s why the aura keeps SWITCHING because both are connected to it!”

    Chaos broke out inside the field. Izaya darted between Chikage and Kadota, reading their movements, watching which one glowed darker and when.

    “ANRI!” Izaya shouted without nicknames, voice sharp enough to cut the air. “Pinpoint the aura AGAIN... see whose is stronger each time it shifts!”

    “Yes!” She forced out, bracing herself and focusing.

    “And the rest of you...” Izaya barked. “FIND WHAT THEY HAVE IN COMMON! AN ITEM, CLOTHING, ANYTHING!”

    Erika, Walker, and Saburou scrambled, eyes scanning, desperation fueling their attention.

    Izaya dodged a dual strike that could have broken his spine, rolled under a kick, and vaulted over a swing. He didn’t want to admit it. He hated admitting it.

    But...

    He needed help.

    Izaya’s shoes skidded across the pavement as he blocked another wild punch with the back of his forearm, twisting just enough to redirect the force without letting Kadota or Chikage land a true hit. He wasn’t just dodging now. He was controlling their movements.

    He needed them momentarily still... just long enough for Anri, Kida, or anyone to pinpoint the damn object Rio had slipped her influence into.

    “Come on… come on…” Izaya hissed under his breath as he ducked another attack.

    This was infuriating. That damn creature... When he found Rio...

    He would kill her this time. For good.

    Kida, meanwhile, noticed something none of them had realized.

    “Whoever has the aura is attacking Izaya.” He said breathlessly. “The other one just… waits. Like they are conserving energy.”

    Erika blinked. “So the aura can only control one at a time…?”

    Izaya’s ear twitched at that... interesting. The malice wasn’t evenly spread. It wanted him more than it wanted anything else. But that wasn’t helpful yet.

    They kept searching for the shared object, but nothing stood out. Nothing looked wrong. Izaya finally forced Kadota and Chikage to collide by dancing between them, letting one swing crash into the other. They stumbled, giving him precious seconds.

    He scanned their bodies again...jackets, pockets, sleeves, shoes.

    Nothing.

         Nothing...

               NOTHING.

    How the hell could he, Izaya Orihara, not spot it?

    Kida’s hesitant voice cut through the chaos.

    “I… I didn’t see anything either… but...” He gulped. “Chikage has fewer bandages on his hands than usual.”

    Walker frowned. “He wasn't hurt today, as I recalled in the morning. Why would he have bandages?”

    “Yeah.” Erika agreed. “He only wraps them when he’s down from a fight...”

    “No.” Kida whispered urgently. “Chikage told me once he wraps them to protect his hands in case he punches someone too hard.”

    Everything stopped.

    Because...

    Kadota had bandages too. The same kind.

    Anri’s eyes widened in horror.

    Erika gasped. “No way...”

    Walker choked. “The bandages? Both of them...?”

    “IZAYA!” Kida yelled almost immediately. “THEY ARE IN THE BANDAGES!”

    Izaya dodged a strike easily, and for the first time since the fight began...

    ...he smiled.

    Anri gasped. “I can see the shadows on Kadota’s hands... clearer now! But… not on Chikage’s!”

    Izaya’s eyes sharpened. Perfect.

    “ANRI!” He shouted, voice slicing through the noise. “TELL ME WHEN THE AURA IS ON KADOTA!”

    He didn’t hesitate. He sprinted back into the fray... no more dodging-only. He fought them dead-on now.

    He struck Kadota’s arm away, kicked Chikage back with a sharp spin, always careful to avoid bare skin. His motions were exact, merciless, and efficient.

    Finally, Anri screamed. “NOW! It’s on Kadota-san!”

    Izaya moved instantly. He ducked, slid forward, and slammed his palm upward into Kadota’s wrist... but in reality... he struck the bandages with the edge of his knife.

    A shriek... inhuman, distorted, echoing like metal dragged against bone ripped through the air. The one that meant he had managed to hit the shadows...

    But Izaya didn’t celebrate. Kadota roared and lunged, eyes blazing red...

    Izaya blocked, barely, his arm absorbing the impact.

    “Damn it!” Izaya hissed. “That’s not enough.”

    He needed the aura to stay on Kadota. But it kept shifting! He needed to force Rio’s influence into one vessel only. Which meant...

    Izaya was going to have to gamble. Huge. Dangerous.  

    Exactly his style.

    Kadota’s eyes flashed crimson again...

    ...good, good...

    Izaya struck him in the face with a full-force blow, sending Kadota crashing back.

    Chikage instantly moved toward Izaya, but Izaya exhaled long, slow, annoyed...

    ...and let him grab him.

    “What?!” Kida yelled.

    But Izaya slipped out of his jacket in one fluid motion, twisted behind Chikage, and yanked the jacket upward, slamming it over Chikage’s head and trapping his arms. Chikage roared, momentum breaking as Izaya hooked a foot behind his ankle and pushed, making him fall forward... right onto Izaya’s crouched form.

    Izaya let the jacket go, rolled aside, and sprang back up in one motion. Chikage was dazed, blinded, momentarily useless.

    Perfect.

    The aura, unable to use Chikage, would switch entirely to...

    “KADOTA!” Anri shouted. “It’s all on him!”

    Izaya didn’t waste a heartbeat. Kadota came at him with everything the shadows had. Izaya spun out of the crouch, sliding low, pulling the knife that could cut shadows cleanly and with one sharp, precise slash...

    ...he severed the bandages on Kadota’s hands.

    They split open in midair and something black, corrupt, writhing...

    Kadota’s scream ripped through the air as he collapsed forward, clutching his head with both hands. Around them, the others flinched, hands flying to their ears at the sheer intensity of it. The shadows spiraled wildly, then snapped apart like overstretched threads.

    Izaya staggered back, chest heaving, but he forced his composure as he slipped the knife back into his sleeve before anyone could notice. His eyes locked on Kadota, who had crashed onto the ground, panting like he had just resurfaced from drowning. From behind him, he heard Chikage’s harsh, rattling breaths.

    And then...

    “The aura is gone.” Anri’s voice trembled, but there was certainty in it.

    Izaya let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The mental exhaustion washed over him like a wave, his shoulders sagging as his hands slid down to rest against his trousers. He looked at Kadota, who finally, slowly, pushed himself up to his knees, still gasping, but with his own eyes again. Just like that, the others rushed forward.

    Kida practically threw himself on Kadota, hugging him as if he had just come back from the dead. Walker and Erika dropped down beside him, checking him over, talking fast, relieved laughter mixing with adrenaline. Even Chikage ripped Izaya’s jacket off his head and tossed it aside, sitting heavily on the ground as he caught his breath, confusion in his eyes finally giving way to relief.

    Izaya stepped back silently, watching the chaos settle. The fights had stopped. Toramaru members and fake Scarves were scattered, bruised, panting, shaking off the remains of the shadows.

    Why…? He thought. Why had the fake Yellow Scarves let the shadows consume them so deeply? Why allow themselves to be overtaken so willingly? They knew what their leader could do...

    Something wasn’t right.

    He heard footsteps then a voice, tired but sure.

    “...Why?”

    Izaya turned. Kadota was looking at him, dazed, confused, relieved all at once. He repeated it when Izaya didn’t respond fast enough.

    “Why?”

    He was bruised all over, especially on the face where Izaya had been forced to hit him, and he still held that cheek, blinking blearily. But he stared at Izaya like the question was burning him alive.

    Izaya tilted his head. “What is that question supposed to mean?”

    Kadota huffed, exasperated and overwhelmed. “You... you just saved me. Risked your life. Fought me head-on when I was… like that. And you ask why I’m asking why?”

    Chikage snorted. “Did you hit your head, Izaya-kun.”

    Izaya chuckled dryly. “Sadly, no.”

    He looked at Kadota, whose confusion hadn’t faded. Izaya’s voice softened, just a fraction.

    “I don’t need a ‘why,’ Dotachin. You are my friend.”

    Kadota’s eyes widened as far as the swelling allowed. Then he actually laughed.

    “A friend, he says…”

    Izaya pouted. “Believe what you want, Dotachin. Doesn’t change the fact that I saved you and...” He walked to his ruined jacket, lifting it as if it personally offended him. “...that you ruined my jacket. You will pay for this.”

    Kadota barked a laugh. “Ah, of course~”

    “Pay for another woman’s jacket?” Kida added loudly, finally relaxed enough to roast someone. The tension melted as the others burst into genuine laughter while Izaya answered with his fakest laugh, which only made them laugh harder.

    Izaya pulled something out of the inner lining of the jacket, something small and hidden, as well as his knives, and pocketed them. But as he continued checking the jacket, his expression shifted. The annoyance faded.

    Tension replaced it.

    Kida noticed immediately. “Izaya…?”

    Izaya looked at the other side as he let down his jacket. His jaw clenched.

    “...Shit.”

    Everyone froze.

    Izaya straightened sharply. “We need to move.”

    “What? Why?” Kida demanded, eyes widening at Izaya’s serious tone.

    And then... Screams. More of them. Louder. Closer.

    Anri’s eyes snapped open, glowing red. “The Slasher!” She staggered. “I can feel it... malice... the aura is gaining form!”

    “No…” Izaya whispered, teeth grinding. “Dammit!"

    He was late. Rio had taken back influence. That meant she would get her body back... all this for nothing!

    Izaya turned to Chikage, voice cutting through everything. “Get your members out of here. NOW. Before anyone else gets possessed.”

    Then he looked toward the fake Yellow Scarves, who were laughing. Laughing. And suddenly it made perfect sense. That’s why they let the shadows corrupt them. They were feeding her. Feeding her fear, giving her back power and control so she could rebuild.

    Chikage started shouting orders, and the Toramaru members immediately left, without a question asked. After all, it was a long day, they didn't need to be longer... Everyone bolted toward the van except Izaya, who stopped dead. The shadows in the air were twisting. Coiling. Forming into her usual body, the one covered with shadows.

    More fake Scarves screamed as the shadows overtook them, giving Rio more fuel. More shape. More strength.

    Izaya bit his lip hard, shock flaring in his eyes. “Heh… you have got to be kidding me…”

    Before he even registered movement, strong hands grabbed his arms.

    “—Wha—?!”

    Kadota and Chikage hurled him bodily into the van. He crashed into Kida, who caught him before he fell face-first into the floor.

    “DRIVE!” Kadota yelled.

    Saburou slammed the accelerator.

    Izaya regained his balance, slamming a hand against the window as the destroyed field blurred past them.

    “What the hell are you doing? Why help me? I’m your enemy!”

    Anri turned, breathing hard. “Are you?”

    Izaya stared at her.

    “Are you truly our enemy?” She repeated. “You have saved us more times than we can count.”

    Kida nodded. “Without asking anything back.”

    Walker added. “You even saved the kids.”

    “Saved Dotachin...” Erika said. “I don’t need any more proof.”

    Saburou nodded once. “Even if you are a mastermind, you are not heartless.”

    Chikage crossed his arms. “You saved me and Kadota. A man repays his debts... simple as that.”

    Izaya stared at them all, stunned. These people, the ones who hated him, chased him, cursed his name... were defending him. And then Kadota, still exhausted but wearing the softest, most genuine smile Izaya had ever seen from him, leaned back against the seat.

    “I don’t need a ‘why,’ Izaya.” He paused. Then, with quiet certainty. “After all… you are my friend.”

    Izaya... smiled.

    -ooo-

    Shizuo and Celty tore through the streets on Shooter, the engine snarling as the Yellow Scarves chased behind them like a swarm. Every time one got close enough, Shizuo simply reached out and smashed them away, fists, a signpost, a piece of railing, whatever he grabbed in the moment. They went flying like paper dolls.

    Celty, however, was losing patience. They just kept coming.

    How many of them were there? She swerved left, then right, avoiding pipes and bats swinging at her. This was getting ridiculous. It wasn’t until she rounded another corner that she noticed it at the same moment Shizuo spoke behind her.

    “…We are heading out of Ikebukuro.”

    Celty stiffened. He was right. Shooter wasn’t just speeding randomly, they were being herded. Away from the city. Away from the center.

    [Why?] She tapped on her phone quickly with her shadows. [Why out of Ikebukuro?]

    Shizuo growled, smashing another idiot who tried to jump onto the back of the motorcycle.

    “They are trying to get rid of us. Something’s about to happen back there.”

    Celty checked the mirror. Shizuo was thinking hard, brows pulled tight.

    What could happen in Ikebukuro? What was worth drawing both of them away?

    She typed again. [What do you think?]

    Shizuo hesitated. “…I think it might be Rio.”

    Celty’s shadows twitched. [Rio?] She typed. [You think she… got her form?]

    Shizuo didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have to. The tension running through his body told her everything.

    “I hope flea has it under control.” He muttered finally.

    Celty hoped so, too. Izaya was annoying, smug, manipulative... but now... he was their answer. She sped up, weaving between overturned crates and fleeing pedestrians. As she passed another narrow street, her shadows prickled... something moved there. Familiar. Wrong.

    A motorcycle. The same one that had tried to kill her.

    Shooter reacted before Celty even consciously did, veering slightly, angling toward the movement. Shizuo felt the shift and gripped tighter, but didn’t say a word... his eyes narrowed, scanning ahead.

    They shot out into a wider road. And suddenly, a huge van loomed in the distance. It was driving fast. Too fast. Heading straight back toward Ikebukuro.

    Celty’s attention split. Part of her was tracking the van, the rest still searching for the biker who had tried to murder her. It wasn’t a coincidence. She knew it wasn’t.

    More fake Yellow Scarves burst from the alleys, shouting, swinging weapons, trying desperately to block their path. Shizuo beat them back one after another, irritation turning into something sharper.

    “Celty...” He snapped. “The van.”

    She glanced back. [What about it?] She typed.

    Shizuo slammed another attacker aside before answering. “That’s what all this was for. That van is going back inside Ikebukuro. The fight...this whole damn chase, it’s a distraction.” His voice dropped. “They didn’t want us to find it.”

    Celty felt a jolt. They were being played.

    “Well done.” Shizuo said, actually smiling a little at her for piecing it together.

    Celty quickly shook her head, tapping on her phone to explain. [It wasn’t me. The motorbike led me here.]

    “What motorbike?” Shizuo demanded, annoyance flaring.

    [The one that tried to kill me.]

    Shizuo went still. Then furious. Oddly enough, Celty felt calmer seeing him like that. This was normal. This she could handle.

    “Go closer.” Shizuo said, voice low and determined.

    Celty felt something spark through her, excitement, adrenaline, purpose, and she tightened her grip. Shooter roared forward.

    Straight toward the van.

    -ooo-

    Vorona leaned low over the motorcycle, the engine vibrating beneath her as she closed in on the van. Her client’s instructions were simple: get what’s inside the van, no matter the cost.

    No questions. No hesitation. She followed orders. She swerved between cars, accelerating until the wind howled in her ears. The van was fast, but she was faster. It was heading back into Ikebukuro, just as the client predicted.

    Good. Predictable targets were easier. She raised her gun, aimed at the lock, and fired. The metal tore apart with a satisfying clang, and she shot a glance over her shoulder toward her 'assistant.'

    She still didn’t understand why she needed one. She worked alone. She preferred it that way. Even when she worked with Slon, she was better alone. But halfway through the mission, she understood why, the bike needed someone to keep it steady while she boarded the van.

    Her assistant, fully covered in black gear, gave her a silent nod. Fine. Silence was better. She didn’t need chatter.

    With perfect timing, Vorona leapt. Her assistant grabbed the handlebars, balancing the motorcycle with surprising skill as Vorona landed inside the van and rolled. Helmet still on, she rose immediately.

    Cargo. Huge crates. Far too many.

    Vorona clicked her tongue. What the hell was she supposed to steal? Nothing was labeled, nothing was obvious. She moved quickly between boxes, searching for anything her instincts flagged as important. Then, tires screeching. Yells. Chaos outside.

    Vorona snapped her head around. And froze.

    Shizuo Heiwajima.

   Of all people in the entire world... why him? He stood at the open door of the van, expression contorted in fury. Her mission… her worst obstacle. Again.

    Vorona lunged first, unwilling to let him interrupt her job. Shizuo swung at her, but she had studied him. She had trained for him. And though the blow rattled her bones, she managed to deflect it. Pain shot up her arm. Damn it. Even though she had studied him, he was still dangerous.

    Outside, she caught a glimpse of her assistant fighting the Black Rider. Both were trying to keep their respective motorcycles close to the van, all while dodging the Yellow Scarves who poured into the street like lunatics.

    Complete and utter chaos. Wonderful.

    Vorona gritted her teeth and struck at Shizuo again, but something was wrong. His movements. They weren’t clean. Not predictable. Not stable. And weaker. His blows lacked their usual lethal force, and that irritated her even more. Why wasn’t he fighting properly? Why was he off-balance?

    She kicked him, her shin exploded with pain. A mistake. She stumbled, silently hissing, steadying herself against a crate.

    Shizuo stopped moving. He said something in a language Vorona didn’t understand.... wait... that damn language! So, he knew the language of the fake Scarves. He knew it all along. What else was he hiding?

    Shizuo’s eyes narrowed when Vorona didn’t answer but just watched him as he finally talked back to Japanese.

    “So you are not with them.”

    Vorona stared at Shizuo, irritation flaring despite the throbbing pain in her leg. “Why the hell would I be with them?” She snapped.

    Shizuo’s eyes widened, just slightly, clearly relieved she wasn’t another Yellow Scarf puppet. But the relief lasted only a heartbeat.

    Then his eyebrows pulled down again, the familiar, furious scowl returning.

    “That doesn’t change the fact that you tried to kill Celty.”

    He moved fast, and Vorona’s stomach dropped. Shit. She had tried. And Celty was Shizuo’s friend. Which meant Vorona had pretty much signed her own death certificate.

    Shizuo ripped a huge crate from the wall and hurled it at her. Vorona dove aside as the box exploded against the floor, spilling its contents violently onto the road.

    Damn it. If he kept throwing everything out, she would have to search all of Ikebukuro for her target.

    Then something clicked. He had asked if she was with them. Meaning the van carried something important to the fake Scarves. They were tied to the Slasher. So whatever was here… it had to be Slasher-related.

    A knife? A shard? Something sharp or supernatural?

    She dodged another crate. Her eyes tracked everything flying out, trying to see what he hadn’t destroyed yet. Shizuo was strong enough to tear the entire van apart... she had minutes, maybe seconds.

    “How isn’t the driver noticing any of this?” Vorona muttered under her breath, only for the answer to strike her mid-dodge.

    Unless the driver wasn’t meant to notice. Her mouth moved faster than her sense of self-preservation.

    “Are you with the Slasher?”

    Shizuo froze mid-throw. The object in his hand dropped an inch in shock.

    “Why the hell would I be with that thing?!”

    “Then why do you try to stop me?!” She shot back.

    “Stop you from what? Stealing?” Shizuo barked.

    That hit harder than his punches. Vorona cursed internally. She hadn't meant to let that slip.

     Mission compromised. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

    “Steal what?” Shizuo demanded. “Stupid shit?!”

    Vorona gritted her teeth. “It was my mission to do so. And to kill the Black Rider.”

    The words left her mouth before she could stop them. She wanted to slam her head into the side of the truck. Why was she giving her mission free intel?!

    Shizuo stared, dumbfounded. “Mission?”

    Vorona refused to answer. Silence was safer than digging herself deeper. He still glared, but the anger dimmed into something else, an attempt to make sense of her.

    “Steal what, exactly...”

    He never finished. The van jerked violently sideways, nearly toppling. Both of them stumbled, barely keeping their footing. Vorona’s hand snapped to the wall, eyes darting over the tumbling cargo...

    ...and then she saw it.

    A small black bag wedged behind crates. Too carefully tucked away. Too precisely hidden. As if someone didn’t want the world to see it.

    Her target.

    “Finally…” She breathed.

    While Shizuo braced against the van wall, she sprinted to the bag and grabbed it. Inside... something small. Cold. Metal. Like a blade, like a knife, like... She didn’t question it. Not here. She secured it inside her clothing, tight and hidden. Her prize.

    The van swerved again, harder, and Vorona nearly fell. This wasn’t random driving anymore. This was intentional. Someone wanted the van to crash, and soon.

    She looked back through the open doors. Her assistant was still gripping the motorcycle, trying to keep it steady despite the violent jolts. Beside them, the Black Rider kept pace effortlessly, head snapping toward the chaos in the van.

    Vorona raised her hand to signal, but the van lurched in the other direction, tires screaming as if the entire vehicle wanted to roll over.

    “Not now…” Vorona hissed.

    She had the cargo. The mission objective was complete.

    Time to escape.

    And then it did exactly what Vorona feared. The van lurched so violently it nearly tipped. That was enough. Vorona didn’t hesitate. Timing her movement with the swerve, she leapt.

    For one heartbeat, she was airborne... falling, missing...

    ...but her assistant reached out at the last possible second, grabbing her forearm and yanking her onto the motorcycle. The whole machine wobbled dangerously, but by some miracle, her assistant steadied both Vorona and the bike.

    The moment Celty turned her masked head toward them, Vorona’s assistant slammed the throttle. The motorcycle spun sharply and shot down a side street, leaving Celty behind before she could even comprehend what had happened.

    Mission: success.

    Shizuo could only watch the retreating bike, still trying to keep his footing inside the violently swaying van. He didn’t like how the vehicle moved... no, he recognized it. Whoever was driving wanted to get rid of the cargo… and the passengers.

    Celty closed in on the van, and Shizuo didn’t waste time. He jumped. He hit the road, rolled, then landed neatly on Celty’s bike just as the van finally crashed with a deafening metallic shriek. Celty stopped, staring at the wreckage.

    [What just happened?] She typed on her screen.

    Shizuo exhaled, brushing dust from his suit. “The van had something in it.”

    [What?] Celty prompted.

    Shizuo walked to the front... no driver. Not even a body. “I don’t know yet. But it’s something the Yellow Scarves care about.”

    [There’s a reason they tried to get us away from it.] Celty typed, the words edged in irritation.

    “Yeah.” Shizuo grumbled, scratching the back of his head. “That’s why that biker was trying to steal it. They kept saying it was their mission.”

    Celty paused at that. [Was it... maybe… something for Rio?]

    Shizuo froze. His eyes widened in immediate, sharp realization.

    “No… it can’t be...”

    A shot rang out. Celty reacted faster than thought, shadows exploded from her body, forming a solid shield around Shizuo as the bullet ricocheted off. Shizuo already had a street sign ripped from the sidewalk and hurled it at the incoming Yellow Scarves before the shooter could fire again.

    A brawl broke out, short and violent. Then they all heard it. The roar of the van engine. The wrecked vehicle jerked upright, someone was inside. A Yellow Scarf now sat behind the wheel, slamming the gas pedal, tearing away from the crash like nothing had happened.

    “Shit!” Shizuo barked.

    He vaulted onto Celty’s bike. Shooter reacted instantly, revving up, chasing the accelerating van no matter how many Yellow Scarves tried to block their path. Celty swerved and weaved, letting Shizuo knock attackers aside like bowling pins.

    “I hope that biker found whatever they were looking for…” Shizuo muttered under his breath.

    [What? Why?] Celty typed in quick, sharp taps.

    She assumed he would be glad the thief hadn’t stolen the cargo. But Shizuo looked dead serious now.

    “If the van reaches Rio... it will all be for nothing.”

    Celty stiffened. [Why?]

    She didn’t want the answer. She already knew the shape of it.

    “It must carry her life force.”

    Celty froze for a second. [Her life force?]

    A chill went down her spine. Shizuo didn’t need to explain more. It was the same for Celty... her body and her head. If Rio’s essence, or power, or whatever fragment of her existence was inside that van…

    And Rio got it... she would be complete.

    Celty’s fingers tightened around the handlebars. She hoped for the same thing as Shizuo. But both knew they wouldn't risk it. Shooter sensed her urgency.

    They could not let the van reach Rio.

    -ooo-

    The van skidded sideways, tires shrieking, as Saburou struggled to keep control with yellow scarves lunging at them from every damn corner of Ikebukuro. Izaya braced himself with one hand, grabbing the driver's seat, the other pointing sharply forward.

    “Turn left... no, your other left! You want to survive, yes?”

    “Don’t yell at me while I’m trying not to die!” Saburou snapped back, jerking the wheel just in time to avoid three more bodies pouring into the street.

    Kida’s knuckles were white as he held onto the passenger seat. “Why are there so many!? Didn't they leave Ikebukuro? They were fewer than ever.”

    “A distraction.” Izaya’s voice was steady in the chaos, infuriatingly calm. “They had a plan, and they played it perfectly. With their net, the Slasher was created again."

    Erika leaned forward between the seats, waving a fist. “Created again!? You mean she rebooted the whole cult!?”

    “Apparently.” Izaya said dryly.

    That was when Saburou hit the brakes, and everything lurched. The van jerked forward, only for Izaya to reach over him and yank the wheel, twisting the vehicle away from a wall of Yellow Scarves blocking the road.

    “IZAYA!” Everyone screamed as they tilted down a wide outdoor staircase.

    “For the love of-!” Saburou slammed the brakes again, but momentum had already taken them.

    They bounced and jolted violently as the van careened down the steps, scraping metal and throwing everyone out of their seats until BAM. They hit the bottom.

    Saburou gasped. “THAT'S ENOUGH! We are stopping here. I don’t care if you are Izaya Orihara or the Prime Minister, I’m stopping before we die, and you destroy my van!”

    “Good.” Izaya said, already unclicking his seatbelt. “Because every other road is closed. They herded us here.”

    “What? Who?” Chikage tried, but Izaya had already opened the door.

    “HEY! DON’T JUST WALK OUT!” Kida, Anri, Erika, Kadota and Chikage all scrambled after him.

    Izaya stood a few paces ahead, strangely still, like he was weighing words. He exhaled sharply.

    “The Slasher.” He said. “It’s… another Saika.”

    Anri froze. “That’s impossible. Saika doesn’t split like...”

    “She did.” Izaya didn’t sugarcoat it. “She broke. She became something new.”

    “You mean… more powerful than Saika?” Kida asked, voice small.

    Izaya turned to them, face unreadable, and nodded once.

    Erika swallowed. “Then... then we can stop her, right? There has to be a way. Right?”

    His silence was answer enough, but thankfully, he nodded.

    “Izaya.” Kadota pressed. “How?”

    Finally, Izaya said. “Destroy her life force.”

    “And you know where it is?” Kadota pushed again.

    Izaya hesitated. And the answer was painfully clear.

    “…You don’t...” Erika whispered.

    Chikage scratched his head. “Hold on... back up. Is the slasher a she? Like, a girl? You said ‘her.’”

    They all blinked at once.

    Izaya pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes. She.”

    “And she uses shadows.” Anri murmured, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Which must be her weapon of choice."

    “The shadows are not only her weapons but also the ones that help her spread. Like wildfire. She feeds with fear...” Izaya finished. Then he looked up, right at Kadota.

    “Yours was the one who managed to feed her to fullness.”

    Kadota went pale. “Me? How the hell...”

    Izaya shook his head to calm Kadota’s thoughts. "It was a spark, a small one but one that was enough to feed her."

    Kadota, but his lips were annoyed. Chikage turned to look at him with sad eyes while the others were thinking their own things. Walker, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up with a trembling voice.

    “Izaya-kun… you said you dealt with her once, right? Back then?”

    Izaya’s eyes shifted to him, cold, flat, the temperature in the air dropping with it. He nodded once.

    “I dealt with her vessel.” He clarified. “I destroyed the body she was using. But because of the fuel she stole from Dotachin and from every fake Yellow Scarf she manipulated afterward… she simply made another.”

    “You all saw it.” Izaya murmured. “It was created… rebuilt. And that means…”

    They all froze.

    “The Slasher is on the run.” Erika breathed, horror creeping up her throat. “And what should we do?” She asked again, desperate now. “There must be something... another way we can beat her!”

    Izaya seemed hesitant. “Make her lose her vessel again, lose her power again.”

    “How?” Anri demanded. “We can’t touch her. Anyone she touches gets corrupted again. The shadows will...”

    “...consume you.” Izaya finished for her. He wasn’t looking at them now. He was staring down the road ahead, as if waiting for something. “Exactly. You can’t do anything.”

    He paused. Then, he turned, a razor-thin smirk forming on his lips.

    “But I can.”

    Erika stepped forward in panic. “Do what, madman!? What could you possibly do? She can corrupt you again!”

    “This won’t happen again.” Izaya said, and there was no arrogance in his voice, just certainty. Too much certainty. “She has a mission. She wants me dead.”

    “What!?” They all shouted at once.

    Kadota stepped forward, fury sparking now that the shock was fading. “That’s why you stopped the van, isn’t it? You wanted to lure her here... to us. You selfish bastard. We could have outrun her!” His voice trembled. “But now you dragged her straight to us!”

    Izaya turned his head toward Kadota. His expression was… blank. A neutral, empty mask that was somehow scarier than any smirk.

    Kadota kept pushing. “You are risking all of us, again! You think we don’t know how you operate? You are ready to sacrifice anyone...”

    “Like hell would I!” Izaya snapped.

    The force of his voice... cold, sharp, commanding hit them like a slap. Kadota actually recoiled. Izaya’s eyes were hard. Brutally honest.

    “You think I want you hurt, you damn idiot? Think again. I never said I wanted you involved. I never said I wanted you to fight.”

    He turned fully toward the road, hands slipping casually into his pockets, as if this conversation wasn’t tearing the air apart.

    “I stopped the van so I could get out. Alone.” His voice grew quieter. “So I could lead her to me. And give you a chance to escape, you fucking idiot. She wants me dead, not you.”

    The group fell silent.

    “I never intended for you to be hurt.” Izaya said, head lowering slightly. “And I never once thought of sacrificing you, if that’s what you are implying. I am giving you a way out. And you are ignoring it.”

    He lifted his head again, but didn’t turn around. His hand moved and pulled out a knife. The blade glinted under the dim streetlights, emphasizing every word that followed.

    “So choose, Kadota-san.” His voice was dangerously soft, and if it wasn't for the tone, Kadota would flinch at the way Izaya addressed him.

    “Either believe me…” A slight tilt of the blade. “Or become my enemy. And frankly… you don’t want me as your enemy.”

    Silence suffocated the group.

    Izaya stepped forward, slowly, shoes tapping against the street as he walked away from them. The tension behind him cracked, just a bit, as his increasing distance gave them room to breathe.

    His mind began to race as he moved. The shadows above flickered. The air shifted. He exhaled, long and slow, bracing himself. The Slasher would come. Rio would come to fight him... and it wouldn't be pretty, he knew that.

    Izaya sighed... would this end well? Would it?

    He... he was unsure...

    For the first time, he was afraid...

    She always came for fear. And she would smell his thoughts from meters away. Izaya looked ahead, not... not knowing what to do. He thought he had a plan, but now his mind was failing... he wasn't ready to give up yet...

    After all, he was still considering Shizuo's offer.

    Footsteps approached from behind. Slow, uncertain, but firm enough that Izaya knew exactly who it was before the person even stopped a few feet behind him.

    He didn’t turn around.

    “…Finally decided to come, Dotachin?” Izaya asked lightly, almost bored. But his shoulders stiffened just slightly because he could feel the man’s aura, heavy, conflicted, guilty.

    Kadota sighed behind him, a deep exhale that sounded like it dragged a piece of his heart with it. “I… I’m sorry.”

    Izaya closed his eyes. He still didn’t turn.

    “I suppose...” Kadota continued with a defeated breath. “...I reacted… badly. But can you blame me? When it’s you?”

    That made Izaya huff out a small laugh, genuine, amused, but thin.

    “I guess not.” He admitted, cheerful tone completely at odds with the dread rolling off him.

    Kadota stepped closer. The others stayed back, watching but not daring to interrupt.

    “…Why are you so sure she will come here?” Kadota finally asked.

    Izaya’s smile faded. His voice dropped.

    “Because I have done something horrible to her... as a revenge...”

    Kadota stiffened. Izaya continued, still facing forward.

    “But she was the one who had started it. But she holds grudges more deeply than any Saika-born ever should.”

    A soft breeze passed, and Izaya nodded to himself.

    “She will come.” He repeated quietly. “And she will kill me.”

    Kadota flinched at the tone, not fear, not panic, but acceptance. Absolute certainty. It twisted something painfully in his chest.

    Izaya Orihara was ready to die.

    Kadota stepped beside him, jaw tightening, determination forcing its way into his expression.

    “…What if we don’t let that happen?” He said.

    Izaya finally looked at him. Kadota looked conflicted and worried, but underneath all of that was something steadier. Firmer. A decision has already been made.

    Izaya stared at him for a long moment before asking, softly.

    “And how exactly do you plan on doing that, Dotachin? You are injured. Chikage too. The others are shaken. You are not ready for another fight.”

    Kadota didn’t look away. His eyes didn’t waver.

    Something in that determination made Izaya genuinely look at him, really look.

    “…You are a madman.” Izaya murmured. There was no mockery in his voice. No sarcasm. Just something like awe.

    Kadota scratched the back of his head, laughing under his breath. “Well… I knew I was a madman the moment I became friends with you.”

    Izaya blinked once. Then, he smiled. Not a smirk, not mischief, not arrogance. A warm, small, human smile. A smile Kadota hadn’t seen in years... if ever.

    And Kadota knew instantly he would treasure the sight for the rest of his life.

    -ooo-

    Izaya’s instructions had been sharp, clear, and terrifyingly efficient. He divided them with precision.

    The van gang. “Your job is simple. Don’t let anyone past the outer ring of Ikebukuro. Especially not toward Saika’s remnants or Saika herself. If the Slasher reaches them, we lose. Keep them all close.”

    They had nodded, unusually serious, knowing the weight of what was at stake.

    Anri. “Evacuate your Saika-bearers. Every last one. Do not engage. If even one gets corrupted, the Slasher will grow, and you will lose focus.”

    Anri swallowed hard but nodded. This was her responsibility.

    Kida. “Pull your members out. No fights. No contact. Make sure no one comes into contact with them, and if they do, not to touch bare skin.”

    Kida’s jaw clenched, but he accepted it.

    Chikage and Kadota. “Get your men away from here. Escort Anri-chan if you can. Make sure no civilian steps foot into this mess.”

    Chikage nodded, serious for once, as well as Kadota, who seemed ready for anything. He had grown serious after what he said, and Izaya was thankful because if anything bad happened, he wanted him to turn back to leading again.

    Izaya had ordered all of them to move constantly, never to hold still long enough for shadows to latch. No one touched anyone with bare skin. No one paused. No one hesitated. He needed Rio in a specific place, so he wanted them to help him achieve that. If everything went accordingly to plan, then his plan would succeed.

    He knew Rio would be stronger than before... filled with rage, newly born, and fueled by every ounce of fear she had consumed since resurfacing. He also knew this was likely a fight only he could handle.

    Or survive.

                            Maybe.

                                             Maybe not.

    But he smirked as he finished giving orders. “If everything comes into place, with the roads blocked and distractions gone… I might enjoy myself ending her.”

    He was lying, of course.

    And Kida would be the first to figure that out.

    -ooo-

    The van gang left first, disappearing down the road to draw away the first wave of the Yellow Scarves. That left only Kida, Chikage, and Izaya standing in the growing tension. Kida noticed Izaya texting from his phone, not his personal one, but another one, the identity of which he didn't pinpoint. He hoped that whatever he texted was for the plan to succeed. He seemed focused, which Kida liked more because he was more accustomed to this Izaya. Even if he had started to like the new one as well. Whatever the cause, Izaya seemed happy with the text, which was good. And then...

    Screams. A ripple of terror, like a wave cracking through the city. Izaya turned calmly.

    At the far end of the road, framed by flickering streetlights, stood the Slasher. Rio’s body now a vessel of pure shadow, darkness slithering and curling around her limbs like living ink. The air around her wavered with her power.

    Chikage let out a low whistle. “Damn… that’s worse than anything you described." His eyes narrowed. “Think you can handle it?”

    Izaya stared at the monster. His face was unreadable.

    “…Maybe.” He said and pulled something from his pocket. A small cloth bag.

    “Maybe not.”

    He tossed it lightly in his palm as he had put what he wanted inside.

    “Depends on your performance.”

    Chikage smirked at him, rolling his shoulders. “Then I hope I score a perfect ten.”

    With that, he moved out, ready to intercept the first shadows creeping along the road. Kida remained by Izaya’s side, watching Rio approach, her movements jerky, unnatural, inhuman.

    And he felt it. A hesitation in Izaya. A fear so well-hidden no one else would have noticed.

    But Kida did.

    “…You are unsure.” He said aloud without meaning to.

    Izaya sighed softly, almost resigning himself to it. “I am. I said the plan works only if you all play your roles. That was true.”

    “No.” Kida said sharply. “You are lying. You know the plan won’t work.”

    Izaya finally turned his head slightly, giving the faintest ghost of a smile. “…Am I?”

    “Yes!” Kida snapped. “You are acting like you are sending us on a mission that doesn’t even matter because... because...”

    Izaya extended the small bag toward him. Kida froze, staring at it, at him.

    “You...” Izaya said quietly. “...have the most important job, Kida-kun.”

    Kida looked stunned, angry, and confused all at once. “And you want me to deliver this now? In the middle of the apocalypse?”

    Izaya didn’t flinch at his tone. But his eyes warmed, just a little. “Yes.”

    Kida’s voice cracked. “Izaya... your plan is going to fail. Isn’t it?”

    Izaya exhaled slowly, turning away again as Rio took another step toward them.

    “I hope with that.” He said softly. “We will have a chance to win.”

    “‘Hope’? That means... you know this won’t...!”

    Kida’s voice rose, but Izaya cut him off.

    “Deliver it to Shizuo.”

    Kida froze. Izaya didn’t turn around.

    “He will know what to do.”

    Kida didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Izaya’s voice snapped like a whip.

    “MOVE.”

    And Kida ran.

    The Slasher drifted toward him with slow, deliberate steps, shadows curling around her legs like living snakes. Even from a distance, her voice slithered through them, distorted but unmistakably Rio’s.

    “Izayaaaa-kuuun…” She hissed, amusement and venom tangled together. “Did you think death would keep me away? Did you think you could run forever? I will always come back.”

    Izaya rolled his shoulders, eyes half-lidded, expression lazy in a way that made her twitch. “Ne~, always so dramatic. ‘Forever’? It seems you want me more than you believe so~”

    The shadows around her spiked. “You don’t get to joke.” She snarled. “Not after what you did to me.”

    “What did I?” Izaya tilted his head, backing a step only when she lunged. Her blade whistled past his cheek, taking a strand of hair with it. “You have done far worse to me, you stupid monster, I'll let you know. But I suppose self-awareness was never your strength.”

    He watched the rage twist her face.

    “And besides...” He continued, tone brightening cruelly. “...for all your devotion, the one you love loved me more. Heartbreaking, isn’t it? Unrequited twice over, truly tragic~”

    Rio screamed, shadows bursting outward. “DON’T SAY HIS NAME!”

    She crashed into him with a ferocity that rattled his bones, forcing him into a backward flip off the hood of a parked car. He landed on his feet but barely. His breath hitched, his mask slipping slightly. She noticed.

    “HA, pathetic.” Rio spat. “You are hiding behind that borrowed face when I should be the one? How fitting. You always needed someone else’s identity to matter.”

    “Tsk, tsk.” Izaya grimaced, revealing his usual smirk. “Happy now? Or would you prefer I grow tentacles too, to match your aesthetic?”

    Her shadows struck the ground where he had stood a moment ago, shattering asphalt. Izaya moved fast, but she was faster. Stronger. More furious. He swung one of his knives, but the moment the blade glinted, Rio froze mid-lunge, eyes burning.

    “Why don’t you use that one?” Her voice warped, jealousy twisting around it. “Hit me with it, Izaya! Isn’t that how you show you are superior? Isn’t that what you live for?”

    Izaya’s smirk fell, showing annoyance. So he was right. She wanted his knife. He was glad he was prepared then... because...

    He couldn’t hit her.

    Rio saw the hesitation. And she lost what little reason she had left.

    “YOU THINK YOU ARE ABOVE ME!”

    She rammed him, but this time Izaya dodged successfully, and he was again right. Her true power had returned, she was faster... stronger and deadlier. Just his luck. Izaya stumbled, and he skidded backward, shoes scraping, barely catching himself before his back hit a wall.

    She was already there.

    Her blade plunged forward, and Izaya twisted out of the way, breath tearing in his throat. She wanted him truly dead...

    He tried to smile. He wouldn't let her have that satisfaction not yet. But his smile came out thin. Weak. If these continued, he would lose stamina... and he would be an easy target.

    Rio’s shadows lunged again, and Izaya barely escaped, rolling across rough asphalt, coughing. His legs shook as he pushed himself upright. He was fast. But she was relentless.

    And it was becoming obvious... painfully obvious... that Izaya Orihara was losing.

    -ooo-

    Shizuo’s grip on the back of Celty’s bike tightened as they carved through the street, the roar of Shooter nearly drowned out by the swarm of engines behind them. Yellow Scarves on stolen bikes and cars chased after them, refusing to fall back even when Celty lashed out with her shadows, slicing through asphalt, flipping vehicles, knocking riders off their wheels.

    Celty struck at it again with a whip of shadow, sharp enough to cut through metal. Missed that damn bike that was still following them. Again. Missed. Shooter hissed beneath her, frustrated and unsettled.

    Shizuo noticed it, but didn't say anything as he looked ahead, like he was trying to solve something. Of course, he had noticed, Celty thought, his silence was always sharper than any curse.

    Celty typed on her phone with her shadows as they rode. [What’s wrong?]

    Shizuo didn’t answer immediately. His gaze was fixed forward, jaw tight, brow furrowed. He wasn’t angry, Celty realized, not yet. He was thinking.

    “…What street is this leading to?” He finally asked.

    Celty blinked, then typed. [The main road. Center of Ikebukuro.]

    Shizuo grimaced. “Then the van’s not lost.” He muttered. “It’s headed there on purpose.”

    [To find Rio?]

    Shizuo shook his head immediately. “No, it can't be. Her power has been lost. She still has her pellets, but I know they are not that strong yet.” His voice dropped. “…Still... it can be that, or the van is a distraction.”

    [Distraction?] Celty typed.

    “Yeah.” Shizuo growled. "Those idiots seemed to stop other cars from coming closer to it, meaning it has all the road for itself."

    He pointed. The Yellow Scarves ahead were guiding the van. Celty’s stomach dropped as she finally saw it. They were leading it somewhere.

    Shooter suddenly slammed the ground harder, its engine whinnying... no, crying. Celty tensed. Shooter trembled. Something was wrong. Deeply, horribly wrong.

    Shizuo glanced back at her. “…What’s happening? Why is your bike freaking out?”

    Celty tried to calm the bike, but shadows shook at her fingertips. [He… feels something.]

    Shizuo’s eyes widened the moment Celty herself stiffened on the seat, afraid. “Celty?”

    She didn’t type. She forced the word out with her shadows as she knew Celty wouldn't be able to control her emotions. The aura was unmistakable...

    [RIO IS BACK.]

    Shizuo went still. Not shocked. Not confused. Just… dark.

    “…That’s impossible. We got rid of her.” He gritted his teeth, voice low enough he almost sounded like the old Shizuo... dangerous, cracking with rage he couldn’t contain. “Unless... her fragments… her shadows were fed enough, and she got her influence back..."

    [I think that's what happened because... the Scarves are affected by them.]

    Shizuo bit his lips. “Dammit… DAMMIT! That's not good.” He looked at Celty. “We need to stop that van before they lead it straight into her!”

    Celty nodded sharply and bent forward, urging Shooter to run faster, faster than the wind, faster than sound... they needed to stop the van not only because the van might still have her life force in it but because there was another reason for it to go there.

    They closed in on the van, almost reaching it... when suddenly...

    The van swerved hard, fishtailing across the street, forcing Celty to skid sideways, tires screaming as she barely avoided colliding with it. The van moved again, but as it moved, both saw why it had changed roads. Because ahead of the van, lighting up the road was fire.

    It was blocking the main road entirely. That made both pause as they didn't anticipate it, but Celty continued following the van, but she could feel Shizuo stay quiet as he was thinking again. As the van moved, it swerved more and more, and sure enough, many roads were in flames. They were all blocked.

    Flames rising. Shadows flickering. Yellow Scarves were streaming and screaming as they were redirected away.

    Shizuo’s voice echoed. “…This isn’t a coincidence.”

    Celty’s heart clenched. If it wasn’t Rio… Then was it Izaya? Had he played a role in this?

    Shooter jerked again, warning. And Celty finally understood why. A presence. A familiar pressure.

    Saika. Anri was here.

    Celty twisted her head and spotted it. Anri was running away from the streets, not toward Rio. Avoiding corruption. Avoiding being consumed. Meaning she knew something and avoided fighting. Her aura seemed alert, but it was moving silently, almost as if she knew what she was doing.

    Celty’s stomach tightened. What was she doing? Shouldn’t she go towards Rio and protect her Saika children? Before Celty could analyze further...

    “...Isn’t that Kadota?” Shizuo barked suddenly.

    Celty snapped her helmet toward the right. And there they were. Kadota and the entire van gang. Their van slammed into another intersection, nearly tipping over, but Saburou held the wheel with ferocious control. And Walker stood half out the window, throwing fire.

    Celty froze at the sight. The flames on the roads were Walker’s. They were blocking, shaping, and controlling the flow of the fight.

    “NO…” Shizuo’s voice suddenly dropped into horror. “…He wouldn’t.”

    Celty felt her chest seize. She didn't know why Shizuo’s voice had dropped, but she could feel that he had understood something.  Something terrible was happening.

    The van jolted, then sped again... Straight toward a lane PACKED with Yellow Scarves. It didn’t matter. It plowed through. But Celty, fearing the worst, the yellow Scarves had seen it coming towards them and had managed to get out of its way. Still, the van didn't slow. It fought through the crowd, scraping past flames, swerving between burning debris...

    And aimed directly toward the main road. Toward the center. Toward... Rio. But Celty felt something else. Another aura. Familiar. Infuriating. Impossible to mistake even in the chaos.

    Izaya.

    Her entire shadow form tightened involuntarily. Shooter screamed beneath her and launched forward faster than Celty had ever felt him run. They had to reach that road. They had to be faster than the van.

    They had to stop this... because Celty felt it clearly now. Rio was fighting. And the other aura... the one struggling, flickering, fading was Izaya.

    Shizuo gasped behind her. He knew it too. He had known it before she did.

    “THAT IDIOT!!!” He shouted over the wind as Shooter blasted forward, but Celty could feel his voice weary. “IZAYA, THAT IDIOT!!! WHAT IS HE THINKING?!”

    Celty didn’t answer.

    The van was heading straight toward the battlefield where Rio and Izaya were clashing...

           right

                    this

                          second.

    -ooo-

    Izaya hit the pavement hard, blood splattering beneath him as he slid several meters. His ribs screamed. His lungs burned. His vision pulsed black around the edges.

    But... the shadows hadn’t swallowed him. Not fully. Not even close.

    Good. Good.

    That meant her power wasn’t restored. She could cut him, but she couldn’t claim him yet, or anyone, if this was going as he expected.

    He could still think. Still move. Still fight. Barely.

    He pushed himself up on shaking arms, spitting out blood, and watched Rio’s form ripple, her eyes became a deep, murderous red.

    She was furious.

    “Still standing?” She hissed, shadows snapping. “Pathetic little human. You can’t even use the knife. You are not even TRYING.”

    Izaya laughed. Weakly. Breathlessly. But he laughed. That enraged her more.

    “You think you are impressive?” She seethed. “You think dodging me makes you superior?”

    “No.” Izaya said, wiping blood from his lip. “I think it makes you desperate to match me better.”

    Her whole body jolted. Good. Good. Let her lose control.

    Izaya dodged barely another swipe of shadows, though one grazed his side, burning cold across his ribs. He staggered but kept moving, kept forcing Rio to chase him across the pavement.

    Her attacks were faster now. Too fast. Every hit Izaya managed to avoid cost him meters. Strength. Breath.

    He was losing. There was no denying it.

    He hit the ground again, sliding backward from the force of a blow he failed to fully dodge. When he rose this time, much slower, he stiffened.

    They had arrived. The intersection. The exact one he needed. Perfect.

    Rio didn’t seem to understand, but Izaya did. This was where the real plan would unfold.

    Rio took his struggle as humiliation and stepped closer, her shadows writhing.

    “Oh? You are slowing down.” She mocked. “Did the great Izaya not match my energy?”

    Izaya coughed, tasting blood again. “Please. You are not even near my level, and you know why.” He winked.

    She snarled. Then...

    “Oh…?” She tilted her head. “Where is he?” Her smile widened. “Your monster?”

    Izaya’s eyes sharpened. “Don’t.”

    “Mmm~” She purred, stepping around him like a predator. “Shizuo… isn’t here to save you. Isn’t that tragic? He always was your greatest threat. And your greatest shield.”

    Izaya’s jaw clenched, anger flashing across his battered face.

    “Too bad he won’t see you die.” Rio whispered. “Not when I’m complete. Not when I win.”

    Izaya choked a laugh. “Complete? You?”

    Her shadows bristled, swirling violently. “Of course.” She hissed. “I only need one tiny, pathetic thing. That knife. The one thing that can destroy me. The one made from my own power. The one that can tear me apart.”

    Her voice cracked into a snarl.

    “It was mine first. Before I rejected it. Give it to me! Reveal it!”

    Izaya laughed harder... delirious, mocking.

    Her eyes grew redder.

    “You think this is funny?!”

    “It is funny.” Izaya gasped between breaths. “Because you’re wasting your time.”

    She froze.

    “…What?”

    Izaya lifted himself, shaking, blood staining the edge of his grin. He raised his hands in a mock-surrender pose, his signature theatrical gesture, even now.

    “Do you know...” He said lightly. “...why haven’t I damaged you? Why have I been holding back?”

    Rio’s shadows whipped violently, reacting to her fury.

    “It wasn’t because I wanted to play with you. Or because I thought I was above you...” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “...which I am.”

    “But the reason is much simpler.” He closed his eyes, too calm for someone covered in blood.

    “I don’t have the knife.”

    Her expression twisted with pure wrath.

    “You are lying...”

    Izaya blinked one eye open.

    “I had a theory that you would hunt for it the moment you regained any power. After all, you need it to fully become complete... so I made a little precaution.” He shrugged despite the pain. “I left it somewhere safe. With my other knives. And my poor, ruined jacket.”

    Rio’s expression twisted.

    “You...” She moved faster than before.

    Izaya barely saw the hit before it landed. His body whipped sideways, air knocked out of him, vision blurring. He stumbled, then collapsed, a strangled groan tearing from his throat. Too slow, he realized. Too worn down.

    Rio grabbed him by his shirt, lifting him effortlessly.

    “You think I can’t retrieve it?” She snarled. “I will order my troopers to search every inch of this city! I will tear it apart if I must!”

    Izaya gasped when she hurled him to the ground. His head cracked against the pavement, lights exploding behind his eyes.

    But still he smiled. “You… won’t…” He coughed up blood. “You won’t find it… in time.”

    Rio’s face darkened. Her hand clamped around his throat, squeezing. Izaya clawed at her wrist, breath failing.

    He knew he had won the fight but not the war. He could feel his consciousness flicker. And he was sure he had lost when he saw Rio’s smirk.

    “So...” She whispered, triumphant. “... my plan changed because of your idiocy. But one thing remains the same…” Her shadow curled around like they were smirking.

    “They are right on time.”

    Izaya’s eyes widened... just as Rio threw him with monstrous force.

    Directly toward the road.

    Directly toward the sound of an engine screaming at full acceleration.

    Izaya watched, stunned midair and....

    The van slammed into him with a crack that echoed down the burning street.

    “IZAYA!”