Sometimes what you are used to do doesn't turn out as usual.

Sometimes what you are good at doesn't go well.

Sometimes experience fails you.

Sometimes you give your best and it's all for nothing.

He wasn't used to that kind of thing happening, but he knew well that, when it did, it was always in the worst way possible.

...

She's late.

It was almost 10 a.m. on a Friday morning, and Namie, who should have checked in at 8.30 a.m., was nowhere to be seen. Which was very rare, as she had the really annoying habit of being ridiculously perfect in pretty much everything work-related, so not being in time was out of the question for her.

But she was, indeed, late. And her boss had noticed it immediately.

He had, of course, called her. After dialing her number, which he had saved on his phone as "Pizza shop" so that nobody knew it was actually Namie, he found that it had signal, but nobody answered any of the eleven times he tried it.

Slightly annoyed at that, he started to ponder the reasons why she could be late. He thought that maybe she had overslept, but it was unlikely. Perhaps there had been some problem with the morning train, but after a quick search on the net he found it was not so. It could simply be that she had decided not to go that day; again, this was unlikely. And another option that occurred to him was that something might had happened to Seiji. Didn't take him long to confirm that he was alright and with Mika, as always.

All this and more he had thought before 9 o'clock, when she wasn't even half an hour late, and only one possibility lingered on his mind now: something bad had happened to her.

If he hadn't done anything yet was because he considered that he was probably exaggerating, and surely she hadn't arrived yet because of something completely trivial.

But it was hard to be convinced by that. It might had worked if she was someone else, or if Izaya himself was someone else; but since they both were who they were, since the wrong sort of people was on the look for them, since they belonged in a dangerous line of work, being worried now was just natural.

He hated to admit it, so he'd never do it, but he was certainly worried. If Namie had been found nothing good would happen to her. And as much as he wished not to care about anybody, he had been sharing most of the time of the last six months with the damn woman and it was difficult now to imagine another half year without her. He was used to her assistance on the job, to her witty remarks that were the only match for his own, to finding someone was there when he got back home…

It hasn't even been two hours. She's not really missing until it's been a whole day. I shouldn't think about it this much.

Even if that was true, he still couldn't be at ease. He then realised that, since it was Friday that day, if she had not got to work for some harmless reason he wouldn't know until Monday. And if he waited till then and it'd turn out that she had been in trouble, it'd be too late by that time and he'll regret not having checked before. That quickly changed his mind about the whole thing of not giving it much more thought.

Tch. It can't be helped. I'll go search her. If she's just lazing around I'll freeze her salary a week.

He took his fur-trimmed coat and left for the apartment he had bought her for hiding.

...

He got there in just a few minutes (he had purposely chosen an apartment nearby when he had bought it), and he was thinking a way to get inside. He had made himself a copy of the key, of course, but he doubted that his secretary hadn't changed the lock, as she seemed to know him well enough to imagine he had said key. He went to the front door all the same to check if it had been forced. There were no signs of that, however, which was relieving. He decided then, since he was there, to check if she had indeed changed the lock. He took out his key, put it in, and turned it.

A soft click and the door was open.

That was a surprise.

'I thought you were smarter than this, Namie-san.', he said quietly with a smirk, trying to dismiss the thought that maybe she actually trusted him.

Izaya stepped in slowly, looking around. He called for Namie and got no answer, so he stepped in further to find that the place was not how he had imagined.

He expected it to be practically empty, looking almost like a hotel room, like somewhere you don't expect to spend a long time. But instead he found it fully furnished and elegantly decorated.

The open living room where he was standing at the moment was filled by a set of expensive sofas, a coffee table, a comfy chair with a reading lamp by its side and a big library bursting with books. Hanging in the walls there were a couple of paintings and some pictures; surprisingly enough, only a few were of Seiji (she probably didn't have as many as she wished), and the rest were of beautiful places that Izaya was pretty sure she hadn't been in.

There weren't any signs that Namie had been there that morning, so he went to the kitchen to check if she had had breakfast there at least.

The kitchen as well was quite complete: there were lots of food in both the cupboards and the fridge, and everything was perfectly clean. Too clean, in fact, to have been used recently. So no breakfast either. His uneasiness started to grow as he went in search of the bedroom to see if if she had spent the night there.

There was something about that apartment, though, that would distract him from time to time. It seemed to engulf him somehow. Namie was a very reserved person who rarely spoke about herself, but her living place was actually the opposite: every single thing in there was screaming her name. The way the furniture was arranged, the decoration style, the little pictures, the kind of groceries she had… Everything told a bit about her in one way or another; and Izaya, who despite almost living with her for quite a long time now, didn't know much about his secretary, he couldn't help to feel curious and to stop sometimes at those little things, even if he was in a hurry.

What got to him the most was how much time Namie seemed to have invested on that apartment. Everything showed that she had settled there completely, but anyone who knew her would have thought that she wouldn't want to stay there, as that would mean that she had gotten used to her current situation, that she didn't have the intention to leave her position as Izaya's secretary. Sure as he was that she hated both her job and him, Izaya couldn't help to feel somewhat shocked at all this.

When he finally got to the bedroom, he found, to his relief, that the sheets and blankets were unarranged, so it would seem that she had indeed slept there that night. He opened the wardrobe in case she had taken her stuff and left, but it was full. There were loads of clothes he hadn't seen on her, as she always wore the same kind of outfit to the office. He found himself wondering how she looked in that long red dress that she had probably wore in some company party back when she still worked at Yagiri Pharmaceuticals, when he noticed the fabric was fluttering. Looking at his right, he saw that the balcony door was open.

His mouth twitched, having a bad feeling about that.

Izaya walked there to find that the balcony wasn't too high, so getting there from the ground wouldn't be too difficult. That was bad.

He also saw a couple of small drops of blood on the balcony.

That was even worse.

He busted out of the apartment as fast as he could, thinking a thousand things at the same time, but mostly how stupid he had been. How could he have chosen a place to which accessing would be so easy? What other flaws did his "protection" for Namie have, what else had he overlooked? Had he been too confident about his skills, or had he underestimated the people from Yagiri Pharmaceuticals?

Because one thing was clear to him now: it was definitely them who had taken his secretary. That way of stealing someone through the window was a classic for those experts on human traffic. That was one of the things he had overlooked. He felt just like an idiot.

But at least he knew where to find them.

...

When they still were an independent company and didn't have to obey Nebula's orders, Yagiri Pharmaceuticals had a few warehouses they would use for their shady affairs. Most were abandoned now, which came in handy for the guys who had taken Namie.

They were five men, two keeping watch outside and three inside the warehouse, all of them in their thirties or forties. They had been employees of Yagiri Pharmaceuticals when Nebula took over, and they had managed to keep their jobs. One of the conditions for this was that they worked to find the head that everyone suspected to be with Namie, so the first step was to find her.

Despite what Izaya might think now, it hadn't been easy. They had been relentlessly searching all over Japan for half a year, and now that they had finally found her, they were really mad at the fact that she was so close by and they hadn't even noticed. One of them, especially, was the the angriest of all.

He was a skinny, tallish young man with parted hair and square glasses. He looked at Namie, who was in front of him, seated on a chair with her hands tied at her back and still wearing her nightgown, as if she was the most disgusting thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

'I really don't like to repeat myself, Yagi- no, Namie-san. What's the need for formalities now?' he smirked. 'I won't ask it again, Namie-san: where's the head?'

'You should've worked to find it instead of wasting both your time and mine to find me.', she said, a mocking smile on her face.

The man didn't even hesitate and punched her hard on her left cheek, making her mouth fill with blood. It wasn't the first time he had hit her.

From the very moment in which they broke into her apartment, that man had been especially violent with her. They had come in through the balcony, and as soon as the noise had woken her up, the man had struck her with his fist in the head. Confused by the hit, her head pounding in pain, she couldn't fight much when they dragged her away from the bed. She managed to kick one of them when they were already in the balcony, which gained her another punch, making her spit some blood on the floor. They took the chance then to knock her out with chloroform, and a little before she fell unconscious, she finally recognised the man who had hit her as her former assistant.

'Namie-san,' the man's voice trembled with anger, 'you don't seem to realize what kind of situation you're in. This is not like in the old times, you see, when you could boss me around as you wished and I just had to deal with it. The tables have turned. Now it's me who can do whatever I like to you.'

He crouched to face her and took her by the cheeks with one hand, making her look him in the eyes.

'I actually hope you never tell us where the head is.', he whispered 'Because that way I'll have the chance to torture you to my heart's content, and even kill you afterwards if I like.'

Namie stared at him with eyes of indifference, while he just smiled at the thought of taking her life, which distracted him from noticing her opening her mouth to stab his hand with her teeth.

The man got up screaming in pain, but Namie hadn't let go yet and blood was already flowing from the bite. He finally managed to get free from her grip, and quickly grasped a bat one of his colleagues was holding and hit her with it.

He had aimed at the head, but his wrath prevented him from hitting properly, so most of the blow had landed on the side of her face and it hadn't been as strong as he had intended. Still, it was hard enough to knock her out. Namie's head laid on the back of the chair, unconscious, blood dripping slowly from her wounds.

'What are you doing, are you crazy!?' one of the others screamed at the man. 'If you kill her now we'll never find the fucking head! You wanna get us all fired!?'

'If she dies, we'll just tell them she didn't know anything.'

'I don't care! I just don't want the blood of anyone on my hands just because you have some sort of grudge against her!'

'What does it matter? It's not like anyone is going to cry for this one.'

The other guy was about to reply when some noise and screaming came from outside. It was from the ones guarding the doors.

'Shit!', the man cursed. 'Go see what's happening!'

The others obeyed immediately, leaving him alone with Namie.

'Whatever is happening outside, I bet it's your doing. You would always pull stuff like this back then. I don't know how you did it, but it was definitely YOU!'

Driven by his madness, the man grasped her neck with both hands, trying to strangle her. Namie, still unconscious as she was, couldn't do anything, and her body laid on that chair like a broken doll. The man's hands were close to completely stop her from breathing, until a sharp pain attacked his back. Confused, he loosed his grip and looked behind him to see what was causing that pain. He couldn't see it well, but a metallic shine gave him a conclusive hint of what it was.

'Oh, I'm sorry, did I interrupt you?'

He raised his head to look at the owner of that unknown voice, and saw a smiling man dressed entirely in black looming before him. Immediately after, he got kicked on the head by him, flying pass Namie and hitting some junk.

Izaya took the chance to go to Namie and undo her bindings. She had been hit several times all over her body; it was pitiful to see her like that. Guilt stung his heart.

'I-Izaya…?', she mumbled suddenly.

She was starting to regain her consciousness and was surprised to see him there. He tried to give her a reassuring look to make her know it was all over, but it probably looked more like an apology.

'How…?', she started, but the pain wouldn't let her speak.

'The guys from Dragon Zombie are taking care of the others.' Izaya explained. 'You shouldn't speak now.'

He held her carefully by her waist and helped her stand up, putting her arm around his shoulders.

'You are putting yourself… in the line… coming here… Why?'

'Ah, just felt like being the knight in shining armour for once.'

'Black doesn't... shine much, you know.'

'You are making jokes? That's so rare, I hope you don't have brain damage.'

'You'd like that; you'd be smarter than me for once.'

He chuckled softly at her tease and looked at her. They had never been that close and she was even smiling, probably relieved to be safe now, probably happy to see that there was someone she could count on, even if he wasn't who she would have at first hoped or expected. But that smile soon faded, and turned into a grimace of pain.

Izaya, confused, looked behind her and saw the man from before, dragging himself through the floor and bleeding, but holding something against Namie's back. Something shiny.

Izaya's very own switchblade.

Namie fell on her knees, sliding from his arms. He rushed to hold her, and with a swift movement he managed to stamp the sole of his boot on the man's face, whose nose went almost inside his brain, making him scream his lungs out in excruciating pain.

Izaya checked the knife and the wound. It wasn't very deep, but Namie's strength was already quite at its limit. Anything could happen now.

'Namie… Namie… Namie, listen to me…'

He held her right cheek in his hand, trying as he could to get her to look at him, while with the other hand he took his phone and put in Shinra's number.

The pain made tears flow from Namie's eyes.

'Namie, you've got to hold on… You've got to hold on a bit, ok? You can do this, you're strong, you can do it…'

She couldn't even speak, her breath was getting more and more erratic...

'You can do it, Namie, come on, you can do it… If I could survive this, so you can...'

'Shinra will be here in no time… You are going to be fine… Everything's going to be fine…'

'We'll fix this and I'll give you some days off, ok? A holiday so you can travel to those places of your living room's pictures… Alright?"

'Hold on a little longer… Just a little longer…'

'Hold on, Namie.'

'Look at me, please look at me, you mustn't close your eyes, please look at me, please Namie.'

'Please hold on, Namie, please don't leave.'

'Don't leave, you can't leave now.'

'Please don't leave me alone again…'