For A Price
All about Mikado's dark side. When he acts more like a true gangster.
I also want Izaya to be more like a cold heartless greedy bastard that only cares about money, even though he's definetly deeper than that.
I do not own DRRR, nor do I own the cover image.
Mikado should have known this was going to happen.
Izaya was an information broker. Give him the money and he'll tell you anything.
Mikado should have known someone would have paid high enough price to learn who the boss of the Dollars was.
And of course that would be the boss of the yellow scarves.
And of course that would lead to a group of yellow scarves grabbing him, shoving him into an alley and waving a gun in his face.
Yeah, he wasn't trusting Izaya. Ever again.
"So, you Mikado Ryūgamine?" The lead guy asked. His yellow scarf was around his left arm, the same one holding Mikado by the front of his shirt.
"Why do you ask?" Mikado asked.
"Because if ya are," The lead guy began, pressing the revolver in his right hand into Mikado's forehead, "we're gonna hafta kill ya."
"Why would you have to kill me then?" Mikado asked.
"Because you're the boss of the Dollars." The guy replied with a malicious smile.
Mikado was expecting himself to sweat uncontrollably, or to start shaking, or even to feel his eyes widen with fear or surprise. But none of those things actually happened. To his surprised, Mikado wasn't scared. Maybe he thought that he could convince them he wasn't the Dollars' boss. Maybe he thought no one would really care if he died, so he wasn't scared of death. Maybe he was so scared his sense of fear numbed itself.
"But I'm not the boss of the Dollars. I'm only 15, how could I be the boss of the Dollars?" Mikado replied.
"What does age matter? Ya coulda been 8 and I woulda still believed the boss." The leader stated dramatically.
"Yeah!" The other three guys shouted in unison.
"I'm not the boss of the Dollars." Mikado stated, slightly coldly.
"Well, does it matter? The boss wants ya dead. So we kill ya, and the boss is happy." The leader replied, pulling the trigger of his gun.
Why had Mikado trusted Izaya?
Pay enough, and Izaya probably would have sold out his parents.
Masaomi came into school the next morning, excited to see Mikado as he was everyday. He was always happy to see the kid who he had known for so long who was so pure, and so uncorrupted by this hell-hole of a city.
It had been because of Mikado that his depression hadn't ended up killing him. He didn't know what would've happened to him had Mikado not been there.
So now he didn't know what he would do if Mikado died, or joined a gang, or left, or whatever else could happen to a guy in this place.
After a few minutes of home room, the teacher ordered for everyone to sit so he could take attendance.
Masaomi looked back at Mikado's desk. He still wasn't sitting there. That was odd. Mikado was often in a rush to get to school, but he was never late enough that he missed when the teacher took attendance, or the start of class.
So, where was he?
After school, Mikado still hadn't showed up, and Masaomi was terrified for his friend.
As soon as he exited the school building he pulled out his phone and dialed the number of a Izaya Orihara. He would know where Mikado was. Even if Masaomi didn't like or trust the guy, he knew his stuff.
"Hello?" Izaya's almost hypnotic voice came through the phone.
"I'll get right to the point, do you know where Mikado is?" Masaomi asked.
"Oh, that kid. I can tell you where he is... For a price." Izaya replied.
"What do you want?"
"How about... 200 yen?" Izaya requested.
"Fine, where do I find you?"
"Don't bother, I'll be right there."
About 5 minutes later, the black haired information broaker showed up in front of the school. Masaomi reluctantly handed over the money and Izaya just smiled maleficently at him for a minute.
"Try looking in the alley on 115th street, in the black dumpster." Izaya finally said.
Masaomi didn't reply, he was already off and running. Before Izaya had even said to look in the black dumpster.
When Masaomi did make it to the alley on 115th street, he decided the best course of action was to call out for his friend. Even if something in the back of his mind told him it wouldn't work.
"Mikado! Mikado! Where the hell are you?" Masaomi shouted repeatedly.
He ended up checking in all the random corners and crawl spaces, eventually he rested to looking in dumpsters.
When he finally reached the dumpster Izaya had referred to after Masaomi was already gone, he opened the lid slowly before dropping it and practically falling into the brick wall behind him.
He slowly and shakily walked back to the dumpster and opened the lid again. On the top was a plastic bag, but it wasn't an ordinary plastic bag. It was a body bag.
Masaomi reached into the dumpster and his thumb and index finger carefully pinched the zipper of the bag.
He pulled it back, praying he wouldn't see what he saw.
There was Mikado. Pure, uncorrupted, kind Mikado. Mikado who had saved Masaomi's life. Had practically magicked away the crippling depression that could have killed him, that should have killed him.
And there was that Mikado...
...With a bullet in his head.
Why did I do it?
Why did I sell out the leader of the Dollars?
Why did I sell out Masaomi Kida's best friend?
Why did I sell out Mikado Ryūgamine?
The answer is simple.
I run a buissness.
You can't be picky about who your customers are.
You can't be picky about what they give you, as long as it's worth something.
And you can't be picky about what they want, as long as it's within your power.
And the Dollar's boss' identity?
That's within my power.
For a price.
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