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Izaya Orihara was a father. If that fact alone wasn’t a sign of the coming apocalypse, you didn’t know what was. After nine months of no work at the station, aches, pains, and headaches, both literally and figuratively, you produced a gorgeous child with jet black hair and huge, hazel eyes. Despite being the child of an angry policewoman and Izaya Orihara of all people, the boy, whom Izaya promptly dubbed Akira, has always been a quiet child, crying only when he felt hungry or tired. All understandable you assumed. As he aged, he revealed signs of a brilliant mind concealed behind that mess of black hair. He picked up words at