(This is a story about one of Izaya's suicide victims. Enjoy!)

A girl was waiting by an abandoned garage south of Ikebukuro. She wore a thin, green shirt and thick khakis. Her hair was up, and her eyes were out and about- searching for the one named, Nakura.

She met him online. He was one year older, 23. They said their hello's and then talked about the things in their life they wouldn't tell a closest friend. Nakura always listened. Like her, he too had just been through an awful breakup. However, her ex boyfriend had found someone in the blink of an eye, and ignored her completely. It made her feel frusterated, angry, confused, depressed, then...

Suicidal.

Nothing else mattered to her anymore. No one else mattered. She vented to Nakura about everything and anything, leaving nothing unsaid. He agreed and comforted her, and said the few words that she wasn't sure she wanted to hear.

Then let's disappear together, Ume.

She'd lie and tell him that it's what she's been thinking all along, but now, waiting for him to come, her body was frozen all over.

"Ume?" Said a voice behind her.

She jumped and spun around. "Nakura?"

A lean man with messy brown hair and reddish eyes approached her, wearing a dark fur coat. He looked different then she expected- as she imagined Nakura with square glasses and a school uniform. A bit nerdier than he looked, maybe.

"Do you want to grab a bite to eat first?" He asked. He looked almost too happy for someone about to kill themselves.

She agreed quickly and it shocked him- but he rubbed it off and brought her into Russia Sushi. It was a widely-known kind of place with wonderful sushi and strange vendors. They sat in a closed off room and ordered a platter, leaving the two alone for some morbid talk.

"Nerves?" He asked, witnessing her arm shake.

She nodded. "Anyone would be nervous."

He shrugged. She raised her eyebrow in confusion. Was he aware that he wasn't going to live anymore past today? That his eyes would never open again- and he'd just be a name on a tombstone? She continued freaking herself out even more and trying to calm down.

"How's that dead-beat ex of yours?" He asked, frowning out of sympathy.

She bit her lip. "He's on a vacation with her right now- Bali I think. They post pictures and videos every day. It's...unbearable."

"Have you ever thought of writing a suicide note? Something simple that will just hit him hard that you're gone?" He asked, leaning forward. It's like his words were hanging on her every reaction.

"Uh..." She pondered. "I don't think he'll care either way."

He shook his head. "No, no. It's not for him to care- it's for him to feel responsible for your death. Make him understand your suffering."

She could feel the sweat down herface. "But I don't think I want him to suffer. I just don't want to be here anymore...that's it."

His eyes studied her. She wanted to know what he was thinking. However, she'd settle for silence.

Soon, they finished their sushi and head outside- back where they met. There was no one around for at least a mile or two. Ume began to feel fear for her situation, and her damn feet wouldn't stop quivering. She glanced around at the run down buildings and the trash being blown around by the wind. It was a wasteland. Would anyone actually find her here?

Her actual fear struck when Nakura reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pistol. He pulled back the bullets and brought it up to his colon.

"If we're going to die- we should make this fun. Russian Roulette?" He asked, playfully. Her eyes widened in horror.

"H-huh?" She asked.

He grinned like a fool, hovering his fingers over the trigger.

"Nakura stop- you can't be serious. This isn't any way to go." She tried to persuade him with words.

His fingers pressed down on the trigger. The loud bang of the gun blasted in the air, and he remained on his feet. There was no wound. He was still alive, with the same smirk stretched across a pale face.

"If anything, Ume, this is the perfect way to go, especially for you." He explained. "You don't want to inconvenience anyone, so we go here- where no one is. I sense you want the death quick and only with pain for a second."

"Anyways, your turn."

The gun barrel was pointed at my head next. I could almost picture the bullet piercing my brain.

Calm down, Ume, this is what you wanted. You asked for it. Take it like a woman.

I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, holding my breath for the blow. He started to snicker and put his fingers on the trigger again. They pressed down for the second time.

Exhaling loudly, it took me a moment to realize the bullet did not exit it's chamber. My eyes opened rapidly.

Nakura dropped the gun to the ground. He looked at me with inquiring eyes. His right hand reached out, and rubbed the bottom of my eye- where I was tearing.

"You don't want to die." He says, wiping away the tears streaming from one of my eyes.

I looked down at my feet, ashamed. "I... I'm sorry Nakura."

"Pathetic."

Lifting my head, I noticed him bring a hand up to his mouth and muffle a laugh. His shoulders moved with the laughter and he turned to the side, looking at me in amusement.

"Humans are interesting- don't get me wrong." He says, waving his hands in the air. "But they can't make up their mind for shit. They come to me because they can't find anyone else to spill their sorry secrets to."

Shock overwhelmed me. He was playing me- playing me the whole entire time. From the line, "Hi, I'm Nakura." My knees went weak, and I had trouble standing, trouble breathing.

"Looks like you're having a bit of trouble there- sit down. Let me explain." He said, halting his laughter to "help me".

I crouched down and rested my head to my knees, as he crouched beside me. I couldn't see the traitor- but that didn't stop him from talking. His voice was charismatic and smooth.

"I'm an information broker, called Izaya Orihara. Nakura is my pen name, although I'm pretty sure you've figured that out on your own." He told me.

I had to calm myself before talking. My heart hurt but my brain told me to leave before it got bad. "Why did you."

My eyes witness him shrugged nonchalantly- like messing with suicidal people was nothing more than business. "Someone needs to do it. If not me then who else? People like you need to get your head out of the clouds and learn that not everything is about you."

"Suicide isn't a joke." I glared.

"Precisely." He said, raising a finger. "So why did you exaggerate your problems to the point of suicide?"

"Excuse me."

"Your ex, has someone new. They're both happy. You're so hung up that you can't find any other sense of happiness. You act as if he's the only thing in your life that matters- and it's sickening." He said.

"Your wrong."

"Then why did you want to die, huh?"

I faced him, only knowing a feeling of anger. "You. You asked me."

"And you agreed."

"No. You pick up girls on the verge and break them don't you? You're a murderer Orihara." I snapped.

"Really, now? You could have told me to go at anytime. Did I use you, or did you use me? Do you even remember Nakura's tragic backstory- or did you focus on yourself?"

I paused. Part of him was right. I was lost for words because I didn't know any specifics of Nakura's problems. Hell, I don't think I asked him any questions or comforted him at all.

What was with me?

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked.

He stood up, and walked by the gun- refusing to look back at me. The car that brought us was still here, and he got in the passengers seat.

"No. However, I'm going to leave you here for an hour to think. If you drive yourself insane- the gun's still there- and it does have one bullet. Sayonara." He said, his voice different than before. It was small, timid, sad. I wondered why, I mean, he got everything he wanted.

"Wait." I told him. "I'm coming with you."

"No." He said, harshly. "Someone will come in an hour to pick you up. Kick the rubble or something- it's what pathetic people do."

And so I waited.

The hour went by so slow it felt like days. I couldn't bring myself to
Look at the gun taunting me on the ground. The whole time I was thinking: thinking of how horrible that man was, and wondering how many others he's done that to.

Still, something told me I shouldn't mess with him. There was a certain aspect about him- something dark in his eyes that made me know I wouldn't live if I got in his way.

It was dark, almost to the point of
Pitch black when the infamous headless rider appeared to pick me up from the rubble. She was kind, and we rode peacefully back to Ikebukuro.

Back to the problems I ran away from- and vowed to run no more.