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1

It was an awfully odd thing to ask of ones self- yet, Izaya Orihara found himself pondering upon a familiar question every day. What was it like to be a human being?

Try as he might to ignore his internal monologue, he continuously questioned himself, and everything around him. What reasoning did others have for their actions? He could guess at why easily- using a logical basis. However, once it came to things done purely for emotional reasons, he was left dazed and confused.

He sat and wondered to himself- what made a mother jump forward and sacrifice her own safety, simply to push her dimwit son out of the way of an approaching truck? Or, perhaps, what made a friend so concerned with the health of somebody they had only just met?

He sighed. It was unfair to ask these questions of himself, but here he was, asking them anyways. He stretched his arms behind him, and leaned back so that he had cracked his back over the bench he was sat on. A breath of relief escaped his lips.

He finally sat back up and opened his eyes to reality, realizing that a sickening smile had been playing at his lips for the entirety of his pondering. He also realized that he was half an hour late to class.

Groaning slightly, the smile quickly wiped off of his face, and he grabbed his bag from the ground besides him. He slung it over his shoulders and ran swiftly out of the courtyard. His mind drifted once more as he ran, and, utterly unfocused about his surroundings- he passed by a certain classroom.

Izaya was snapped into his thoughts abruptly by a yell of anger, and he froze in his tracks. He pushed back the fear resonating in his heart- emotions were far too dangerous for him to harbor in his high school days. As the door burst open, a sly grin spread across his face.

Before him stood another boy, not much taller than him, with a slightly more tan complexion and blonde, scruffy hair. The boys uniform was quite a bit more tattered than his own, due to his daily routine.

Izaya, of course, recognized the student as his enemy- and his favorite pass time, at that. Shizuo Heiwajima was a good-for-nothing, hot-headed child, who either didn't care enough for his grades to stay in class, or just hated Izaya with all his guts.

Izaya was well aware the answer was the latter.

"Izaya," a voice yelled, originating from the blonde boy. Shizuo inhaled deeply, almost panting from anger. Izaya liked to compare him to a hound, one which chases after the same cat even when on a job. Izaya raised his middle and pointer finger to his forehead and flicked them away, as if saying goodbye. He then began to sprint down the halls, just as Shizuo had thrown a desk at him. He narrowly avoided it and went on his way.

Still bearing a painful grin, Izaya raced through the hallways nimbly, with Shizuo close behind. He was barely aware of the chuckles escaping his own lips, hyper focused on both running, and admiring the taller boy's reactions. Shizuo continued to yell random nonsense, cursing at the air, when the bell finally rang. As students rushed into the halls, Izaya waved goodbye over his shoulder, and slipped into the crowd, escaping once more.

As soon as he had escaped the hound, he let out a quiet breath, the smile wiping off of his cheeks. In a crowd, he felt more willing to be tired- both emotionally and physically. He had found that in a swarm of humans, one could get away with a poorly fitted frown, or no expression at all. No one would ask, "Why, are you okay?" or "Do you need a cup of water?" to a boy surrounded by others, some of which likely possessing greater emotions than his own.

Physically, he was sleep deprived due to consistent insomnia, and the struggle of taking care of two ten-or-so year old twins at home.

His cheeks hurt from that dirty smile, and his head hurt as well- likely due to the whole "sleep deprivation" thing. Missing class once likely wouldn't take too much of a tole on his grades, so he wasn't all that worried. He knew that he was already nearly top of the school (right behind his one friend, Shinra, no doubt.)

He made his way into his next period, setting his head down as the lesson was taught, and almost zoning out the math teachers lecture. What had been consuming his thoughts earlier? Oh, right.

What did it mean to be human, anyways?

He knew that logically all it meant was- well, to be one. Biology was far less than his favorite subject, even though he had been the co-owner of its club some years ago. He knew that he was human, in all technicality- but what did that entail, in terms of behavior? As far as people go, Izaya was utterly detached from all of society, and didn't expect he would ever find a place where he would belong.

Maybe that could be why he was so miserable. Or, maybe, he was just sleep deprived- which seemed to be a viable option.

He was drawn back to attention as a piece of paper was slid onto his desk. The teacher had finally handed out worksheets, and stopped his seemingly endless lecture. The math was far too easy- he could tell just by looking at it.

He sat up just enough to be able to raise his elbow and write, and began to fill out the questions with ease. He was gifted in almost all subjects- though he didn't put any effort into physical education, even if he was capable. However, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was practically dumb. Not being able to decipher the emotions of others definitely wasn't a factor of being wise.

He reminded himself of the difference between "smart" and "wise". He didn't know the exact difference, exactly- but he believed that "wise" was used for purposes of morals. One who could help another with their feelings, who was mature and careful, could be wise. However, someone utterly devoid of emotion who could finish a hard math problem without even touching the tip of their pencil to the worksheet could be considered smart.

He was well aware he was smart, yet not wise. For, if he was wise, the thoughts looming over his skull would have vanished by now. To go further on the subject of whether or not Izaya could consider himself human, he thought to himself- if he truly didn't fit in among others of even his own species, was he worthy of being alive?

That's when a familiar idea popped into his head once more. This time, he made a decision. Izaya Orihara, 17 years old, was going to kill himself.

He didn't need a note, as he had no one to say goodbye to. (Save for maybe Shinra, who he doubted would mind anyways. The weird headless chick he never shut up about would be a far better companion anyways.) Without him, his sisters would be put into an orphanage, or something of the sorts- which would take some getting used to, but would likely put them in a better financial situation.

Besides those two points, Izaya couldn't see a single problem. As little as he empathized with and understood the emotions of others (on anything above a superficial level), he was almost certain it would just be made into and treated as another ghost story in a few years. And now, he figured, why wait? So, as the bell rang, marking the final period of the day, Izaya Orihara stood and made his way to the roof.

The lazy janitors had once again forgotten to lock the doors to the famous restricted area. However, this time they wouldn't have any delinquents up here- just one sad kid. Still wandering through his thoughts, Izaya found himself standing right besides the railing, staring out over Ikebukuro. The city landscape would make a fine last sight.

He removed his shoes, and placed them gently besides him, stepping up onto the rail. He lifted his arms up to assist himself in balancing, and stared down at the drop below. He took a deep breath. It was a lot scarier than he expected- he knew he had nothing to life for, so it shouldn't- no, it can't matter. Yet, something was screaming at him to stop.

When a hand grabbed onto the back of his shirt and pulled him off of the railing and back onto the roof, Izaya realized that the yelling voice was not his own. He whipped around, eyes widened slightly with shock at what he saw next.

He had just been stopped before ending his own life- at the hands of his greatest enemy. Shizuo Heiwajima was standing before him, an almost soft expression plastered upon his face. Izaya didn't think that suited him.

However, Shizuo didn't think that a shocked and saddened expression suited Izaya either. The blonde boy let go quite suddenly, and nodded to the other boys shoes.

"Put 'em on," he said simply, somehow refraining from yelling at the boy. Izaya followed the orders, and looked back up at Shizuo. He seemed dazed, almost unaware that his facade had decayed. "Come with me, flea. I'm taking you somewhere."

Great, Izaya thought. Not only was he just stopped from ending his own life, but he was now believed about to be killed at the hands of his enemy. At least he was still dying.