Prologue: Too Late Now

Trees, like people, are made to grow along a certain path, generally up if one is being literal, but for the latter, morally upright. Izaya had always been a crooked tree, as long as Shizuo had known him. An ugly, twisted willow tree that tarnished everything with its mere presence. That was just how he was, but what if that seed was never planted. If that was possible, who planted it there in the first place?