Disclaimer: Durarara! I don't own thee!

Warnings: Rated for violence and sexual implications. And Izaya or Shizuo's occasional potty mouth.

The city of Ikebukuro lay in quiet slumber before him, the distant call of the last train the only sound atop this empty rooftop bathed in moonlight. He had situated himself quite comfortably on the edge of the gateless wall, the drop into darkness below not even worth blinking at.

The sound of metal suddenly clanged in the alley, probably made by some cat scavenging for food, or, better yet, one of the many lesser gang members lashing out at a trash can out of frustration for one reason or another. Voices followed suit, indicating the latter, and a soft brief flicker shone from the darkness as one of the humans below lit a cigarette.

He paid none of these distractions any mind.

What captured his attention this night was not a human, but the full moon above him, shining unobstructed through a clear sky; a sight quite rare these days with all the pollution that had blanketed Edo over the century. He let out the breath he had been holding in and watched as the steam dissipated into the cold winter air.

Izaya drew his coat closer, the moon still reflecting off his blood red orbs.

"Same moon, Tsugaru…" he whispered as he closed his eyes.

.

Late Tokugawa Period, 1867. August.

The forest suddenly exploded around him as yells and the clangs of metal on metal and flesh woke him from his previously peaceful nap. Izaya sat up slowly from his place under his favorite sakura tree, glaring through the moon bathed clearing to the trees opposite him. Just as he decided to hop into the branches above him to escape any further annoyances, the fighting broke through the bushes, and water from the small stream between him and them splashed onto the banks as one of the men ran across it.

The samurai, clothed in a flowing blue haori lined with a snow-like pattern, turned to face his attackers, pointing his katana at the five men who had followed suit.

"End of the line, trash," one of the men smirked, his cruel eyes following the samurai's every move.

"Where are all your Western friends now?" another taunted. The samurai remained silent, not betraying any movement to his opponents.

Izaya blinked, realizing for the first time that the one in front of him had light blond hair messily tied in a ponytail, and he was definitely a little tall for a normal Japanese man. He thought the moon had been playing tricks on his eyes, and the realization brought a grin to his face.

'A Westerner, huh?' This was too good of an opportunity to pass off. He had never had a decent conversation with one of them before. It was difficult enough to talk with a human of his native country without getting a katana swung at him, and every Westerner he had met before had a gun. Swords he could handle but little projectiles whizzing all over the place, not to mention the deafening roar when the blasted instrument went off, he could not take. What made it even worse was that now the things were getting imported to Japan in massive quantities, and he had been on the verge of giving up bothering with humans all together.

However, back to his present situation, the five before the samurai didn't seem to have any guns, and this pleased him a great deal. 'Hm…' He stood up lazily, the extra long sleeves of his kimono draping over his hands, covering his claws, not that it was any help for the rest of his appearance, but he threw caution to the wind as he took a step forward.

"Huh? Who's there?" One of the men had noticed the movement behind the samurai.

"Who indeed?" Izaya returned as he walked out of the shadow of the sakura tree. The two horns on his forehead shone clearly enough under the moonlight, and if that weren't enough, his pointed ears and blood red eyes surely gave him away. If not, then these humans were idiots.

"A-a demon!" one the men stuttered and stepped back.

"Not all idiots I see." Izaya smiled lazily at them, daring them to run. As he predicted, one sprang forward, all sanity lost to fear. Just as the demon lifted an arm to do his dirty work, the man fell down before him, and the samurai pulled his sword out, returning to a defensive position.

"Your opponent is me," the samurai said, his voice like a shallow creek, fluid and calm. Izaya had never quiet heard such a serene human voice before; the ones that graced his ears the past years only held fear-dipped hatred for his kind. This new experience proved quite refreshing.

The corner's of the demon's mouth rose some more. "You stole my kill," he told the samurai, but the other seemed to ignore him and continue to concentrate his attention on the remaining four men.

Three of them sprang and swords clashed as the samurai expertly held all of them off, maiming the first to reach him in the process. Izaya watched in utter fascination at the display until he noticed that the fourth man in the side had produced a pistol. The demon was on him in a flash.

"Who gave you permission to kill my toy?" he growled as the man gave a yell and attempted to fire. Izaya swatted the weapon away and drove his claws into the man's chest, cutting straight through the ribs to the back as he ripped out his victim's beating heart. He let go of the warm object and drew back, the blood that covered his arm up to the elbow now staining his sleeve. "Great, I have to wash this again…" he muttered.

"Monster!" he heard a click and looked up in time to see that the maimed man had grabbed the pistol and had it aimed at him.

"Tch…" Izaya sprang at him but felt his shoulder explode in pain just before he struck down his attacker. Hissing at the burning, he jumped back and dug into his wound, finding the cursed piece of metal embedded into his shoulder blade. "Shit…" He dug deeper and finally caught the bullet between his claws and ripped the entire thing out, tossing it furiously to the side. 'Damned guns…'

His shoulder burned as he felt the wound close up on its own, and he looked up the see the samurai pulling his sword out of the remaining man. The foreigner looked over to Izaya and seemed to consider for a moment before making his way over.

"Wonderful…" Izaya muttered under his breath when the samurai was finally in front of him. He saw pale blue eyes that ran as deep as the skies on a clear day. 'Truly a foreigner, huh?' Izaya gave him a smirk. "Going to kill a defenseless demon?" he scoffed, feeling the remainder of his wound close under his bloodied hand.

To his surprise, the samurai slowly sheathed his sword before offering him a hand. "Huh?"

"Can you stand?" the man asked him.

Izaya stared at the hand with wide eyes before taking it. "You're a weird one," he chuckled as he brushed himself off.

"Same to you," the samurai replied, his speech quiet and brief. "Why did you help me?"

The demon laughed out loud at this, and the other patiently waited until the chuckles subsided. "Are you a foreigner?" He thought the answer was obvious but couldn't help asking.

"Half," the foreigner answered.

"Huh…" he tilted his head to the side. "You have quite the skill with a sword though. I almost thought you were a samurai."

"I am," he answered with conviction.

"But you're a foreigner," Izaya pointed out.

"Half," he corrected again.

"Huh…" Izaya sighed in disappointment. This meant that the samurai didn't know much of those so called western traditions after all. He was rather curious about the world outside of Japan after all, having lived here all his long life. He found himself staring at the other's outstretched hand once again. "What are you doing?"

"Handshake," the samurai answered. "It's how 'Westerners' greet others. You're curious about me, aren't you?"

"Don't be conceited," he replied. He felt his smile widen despite himself as he took the hand anyway. The samurai's grip was strong but just enough to prove it so.

"My name is Tsugaru," the other offered his name.

"Izaya," he returned the gesture. This was going to be interesting.

Historical Notes: Edo Period = Tokugawa Period. Edo = Tokyo. Throughout the Tokugawa Period, the bakufu kept a strict isolationist policy, so it was rare to meet foreigners inside of Japan save for certain trade ports. America had already "opened" Japan before the time in which this story takes place, so guns were starting to become a common weapon in warfare. However, many samurai still fought with swords, but they were quickly phasing out…

Haha something like that- I hope I didn't make any crazy mistakes.

So I just finished playing Hakuouki, (Yes yes, I procrastinated my midterms like this. It was great.) and I really wanted to write something with samurai in it. And demons. I even drew a messy picture for this story on deviantart (Peek at your own risk! My drawing is very messy.)

Oh, and hello Tsugaru. Welcome back!

Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy this one. It's my first time writing something that takes place in the past. I hope to update… frequently? We'll see. I'm still alive though, so I'll update. (knocks on wood just in case)

Thank you for reading!