"So this is America...''
Shizuo said this to himself while smoking a cigarette. How nice it was for no one to know him.
Shizuo roamed around the streets for a while. He must have looked lost, because someone came up to him.
"Are you lost, sir?''
Shizuo did not study English.
"M-ma na..mu...iz...the...Shizuo.''
The stranger stared at him for a while.
"Shizuo? Japanese?''
"Yes.''
He spoke nervously in broken English with a Japanese accent.
"Hoh, hoh! Then, you shall meet my assisstant. He speaks Japanese! May he be of any help?''
Shizuo didn't understand anything except ''Japanese'', so he nodded stiffly.
The man took out his phone and dialed a number.
"Hello? It's me. Ah, I have found a lost Japanese. He seems to not know English. Yes, yes. Okay.''
He smiled at Shizuo.
"Please trust me, and follow.''
They took the famed taxi to a grand looking hotel as Shiuzo marveled at the life of NYC. Foreigners everywhere...where there were many blondes like himself.
"We're here. This way.''
He led Shizuo through what seemed like a maze, with a hotel this high as well. They entered the elevator and he pressed the 39th floor. Shizuo felt only a little uneasy with this man, because he seemed honest.
In additon, he doubted anyone could kill him.
Shizuo sighed as the elevator stopped and opened. They went to a room named 148.
"Ah, you're here, Mr. Thomas? Who is the Japanese man?''
Shizuo stopped in shock and saw the face of the person behind the door.
That person's eyes grew wide as well and started trembling.
"Izaya...?''
A/N: I'm really sorry it's so short...
