Durarara!!, Vol. 13

by Ryohgo Narita

  Copyright

  DURARARA!!, Volume 13

  RYOHGO NARITA

  ILLUSTRATION BY SUZUHITO YASUDA

  Translation by Stephen Paul

  Cover art by Suzuhito Yasuda

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  DURARARA!! Vol.13

  © RYOHGO NARITA 2014

  First published in Japan in 2013 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.

  English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo, through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

  English translation © 2019 by Yen Press, LLC

  Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Narita, Ryōgo, 1980– author. | Yasuda, Suzuhito, illustrator. | Paul, Stephen (Translator), translator.

  Title: Durarara!! / Ryohgo Narita, Suzuhito Yasuda, translation by Stephen Paul.

  Description: New York, NY : Yen ON, 2015–

  Identifiers: LCCN 2015041320 | ISBN 9780316304740 (v. 1 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316304764 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316304771 (v. 3 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316304788 (v. 4 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316304795 (v. 5 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316304818 (v. 6 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316439688 (v. 7 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316474290 (v. 8 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316474313 (v. 9 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316474344 (v. 10 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316474368 (v. 11 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316474382 (v. 12 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975358198 (v. 13 : pbk.)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Tokyo (Japan)—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Science Fiction / Adventure.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.N37 Du 2015 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015041320

  ISBNs: 978-1-9753-5819-8 (paperback)

  978-1-9753-8469-2 (ebook)

  E3-20190816-JV-NF-ORI

  A tale of twisted love comes to a close.

  The grotesque creature silently watched the city from above.

  It extended paths of shadow and rode through the sky on the back of a horse that was equally monstrous.

  Despite it being the middle of the night, the city below still flickered with thousands of tiny lights.

  The creature surveyed this view, as if the land and the starry sky had switched places, in total silence.

  It wore pitch-black knight’s armor. The head, which rested under the pit of the armor in the grip of the creature, far from the neck, featured wide-open eyes.

  But its mouth stayed shut.

  The creature was called as such because despite its features, it was certainly not human.

  No human being could be alive with its head separated from its shoulders.

  So in that sense, her form was indeed abnormal.

  But there was no way to know what lay within her heart.

  For whether human or inhuman, the heart has no set form to begin with.

  Chapter 10: A Tiger Dies and Leaves His Skin

  Raijin High School—in the past

  “Hey, Orihara. You had quite a fight yesterday,” chirped Shinra Kishitani as he approached the young man, who was reading a magazine. They’d been friends since middle school, and currently Izaya Orihara was sitting on the landing of the stairwell that led to the roof.

  For his part, Izaya narrowed his eyes. His lips pulled into a subtle smile, and he offered with some annoyance, “Fight? Whatever are you talking about? That monstrous amoeba nearly murdered me—that’s what that was.”

  The “fight” Shinra was referring to was a brutal battle to the death, itself practically a bad joke, that started after he had brought Shizuo Heiwajima and Izaya Orihara together.

  “What is up with him?” Izaya complained. “I lured him right into that accident, absolutely perfectly, but I didn’t expect that he’d take a hit from a truck and just walk away without a scratch.”

  “Fascinating, isn’t it?” Shinra pressed. “You said that you loved humanity, so I thought you might take an interest in him.”

  “That’s not a human being. That’s a wild animal or a monster.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Shinra shrugged. “I’m hoping that you two will learn to get along, though.”

  Izaya shot him a venomous look. “Why?”

  “Because unless you learn to get along, you and Shizuo have the worst chemistry imaginable,” Shinra said simply. “Based on what I saw yesterday, someone is going to die. At the very least, one of the two of you might.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “But if either you or Shizuo calms down a bit, that might be a different story.”

  “You were the one who introduced us to each other, Shinra,” snapped Izaya.

  “You go to the same school. I just thought it would be easier for you to be friends if I was in the middle. But if it doesn’t work out, then it’s not meant to be. If you guys try to kill each other, then I’m only out one or two friends.”

  He said it like a joke, but Izaya knew that when Shinra gave off that sad, troubled smile, it was a sign that he felt serious about something. “Well, look who’s above it all.”

  “If one…or both of you die, I’m sure I’ll be sad about it, but I can live with that result.”

  “What a swell guy to have as a friend.”

  “I can’t help it. Every last human being in the world could die, and as long as my beloved girlfriend survives, I’ll still be happy,” Shinra said with a distant look in his eyes. Whatever he was imagining, his mouth curled into a dopey grin.

  “Ugh, you’re so creepy. I feel sorry for whatever woman you fall in love with.”

  Izaya had a pretty good idea of who his “beloved girlfriend” was, but he chose not to mention that. Instead, he returned to his magazine.

  Unfortunately, that was when Shinra decided to get philosophical. “Ah yes…have you ever heard the quote, ‘A tiger dies and leaves his skin, but a man dies and leaves his name’?”

  “?”

  “Shizuo would be the tiger. If Shizuo dies, the pelt that surrounds him…the stories of his superhuman power would be passed on and treasured, taking on a life of their own and becoming urban legends,” Shinra said, as excited as a grade schooler who had spotted a fascinating insect—while speaking about his friend as if he were a fascinating insect.

  “And he wouldn’t just be a tall tale,” Shinra continued. “He’d be an urban legend that actually existed! In fact, it might be only after his death that Shizuo Heiwajima is truly complete—as a being that transcended humanity.”

  Izaya felt himself getting irritated.

  Him? Living on as an urban legend? A being who transcends humanity?

  Nonsense. He’s no
thing more than a dumb beast.

  Izaya realized that even considering their extravagant fight yesterday, he was extraordinarily annoyed at Shizuo Heiwajima. “And you’re going to autopsy that monster and get famous that way?”

  “Sure, I’d like to give him an autopsy, out of scholastic curiosity. But I don’t have any special interest in dissecting men, nor do I wish to become famous for it. And I have no hobby of dissecting girls, either. Although I will admit that my affection for my beloved started with dissection,” Shinra said rather ominously.

  “…?” Izaya was confused at first but decided that this was just Shinra being Shinra. “So assuming that tiger will leave his skin, how do you plan to leave your name, as a person? I’m kind of holding out hope that you’ll go down in history as a horrific serial killer.”

  “As a person…?”

  Shinra thought it over. His smile vanished. He looked toward the light coming down from the roof above.

  “I want…”

  Ikebukuro, atop a building under construction—present day

  Which of them was first to move?

  No one witnessed the moment happen.

  Perhaps even they themselves were not aware of it.

  Neither Shizuo Heiwajima, who had turned into a pure system designed to destroy the man before him, nor Izaya Orihara, who still retained his rational human mind.

  They were atop a building under construction, shortly before dawn.

  The battle to the death started without even a provocation to initiate it.

  To the two longtime foes, this fight was an undeniable turning point. But for such a momentous occasion, it certainly started in unmemorable fashion.

  Then again, given that their mutual hatred essentially stemmed from the feeling of I just don’t like the guy, perhaps it was also fitting that it happened unceremoniously.

  Their astonishing, overwhelming battles, going back to school days, made you doubt the accuracy of that old saying “The more you fight, the closer you really are.”

  There was no high-minded chivalry in this duel, no respect for the other side whatsoever.

  And in the case of this stunning battle in the wee hours of the morning, there was once again not a shred of respect for the other combatant. Not once did either of them ever view the other with the positive aspects inherent in the word rival.

  So when they met again on the upper portion of the construction site, there was not a single word of dialogue between them.

  The only exchange of words was the phone call that Shizuo Heiwajima received from Izaya Orihara as he climbed up the stairs of the building.

  Less than a minute earlier, when Shizuo slowly opened the door to the top of the building, where construction was still ongoing, the first thing that stung his nose was the odor of evaporated gasoline.

  Then he realized that it was coming from the liquid flowing along the ground at his feet.

  But Shizuo didn’t show any signs of panic. Even when flames shot up around him the next moment, he barely blinked.

  Not because he’d expected it, nor because he’d instantly thought of some means to counteract it. It was just that the fury compressed into his body dulled the ordinary human senses, leaving him incapable of typical reaction.

  “…”

  Ordinarily, that kind of lapse in focus would be fatal—but Shizuo grabbed the door in silence, wrenched it off its hinges, and stepped over it.

  That was all he did.

  But the abnormal physical strength with which he performed the feat flattened the flames spreading at his feet and caused a gust of air that pushed back the wind blowing in from outside. The flames practically danced in the resulting eddies of air.

  Shizuo used the trampled door as a stepping-stone to leap forward, using the swirling force of the flames as momentum. Parts of his clothes were singed, but he was able to get clear before they actually caught fire.

  Before the secondary effects of the heat and the lack of oxygen could inflict any damage on him, however, a steel beam hoisted on the crane swung at him like a pendulum.

  The beam was moving with enough force that it would easily go straight through a typical automobile—but once again, Shizuo barely batted an eye.

  His right arm was still dangling at his side, ever since he’d deflected the forklift minutes earlier, but the anger in him dulled both his pain and his common sense.

  He swung his good arm upward, delivering a solid uppercut to the oncoming beam. In the moment of impact, the steel crumpled, and the floor under construction made an unpleasant sound around Shizuo’s feet.

  But despite being in the midst of the two expressions of force, Shizuo was unhurt.

  The deflected beam slid loose of its supporting wires and plummeted back down onto the construction site.

  He glanced toward where it fell, and he caught sight of a man. It was Izaya, who showed no sign of alarm or reaction of any kind when the giant piece of metal crashed right next to him.

  The two men were united in their lack of surprise at dramatic changes in the situation, but unlike Shizuo’s, Izaya’s face was fixed into a cruel smile, and he at least displayed enough intelligence to calculate how to kill another person.

  From Izaya’s perspective, however, he wasn’t killing a “person” at all.

  This was the beginning of Izaya’s quest to vanquish a monster.

  In this case, the monster wasn’t evil, and Izaya wasn’t the hero.

  The battle to the death wasn’t undertaken on any basis of good and evil at all. The two of them were both, in their own way, in a place far from any concept of righteousness and wickedness.

  All the unconscious restraints were gone. All there was to do was face the other.

  Nothing until now had risen to the level of a battle to the death. Those were like introductions.

  The two men faced off, glaring each other down—until the urge to kill condensed into the space between them and exploded outward all at once.

  Which of them was first to move?

  There was a moment in time containing the answer to that question, one that no one would ever be able to answer later.

  The slaughter began without a clear point of initiation.

  Just thick, boiling air seething with heat.

  Ikebukuro—Russia Sushi

  In the middle of Shizuo and Izaya’s battle to the death, there was activity happening elsewhere.

  It was the time of sleep in the city, when several hours still remained until dawn.

  The time that even the twenty-four-hour karaoke booths, the bars that stayed open until morning, and the seedy girlie clubs saw reduced foot traffic. And yet…

  “Well, dammit.”

  Tom peered out through the barricade erected behind the window out of tables and other furniture. He was watching the steady gathering of people outside the building who sported bloodshot-red eyes.

  They weren’t rioting, nor were they zombies in search of a meal.

  They just stood out there, facing the restaurant, smiling silently.

  But that was even worse than the alternative.

  “Am I having a nightmare or what?” Tom lamented, squinting through the glass.

  Next to him, a man with a shaved head doing the exact same thing muttered, “Saika possessed them.”

  “Huh? You know something about this…uh, buddy?”

  “It’s Kine.”

  “…Oh, right. I’m Tanaka. So…you know what that means, Mr. Kine?”

  Kine? As in…the former Awakusu-kai Kine?

  Tom had cleaned up his tone of voice a bit, sensing that his conversation partner was a “professional” gentleman. The hairless man, Kine, furrowed his brow and said calmly, “Well, it’s probably a waste of time trying to convince you to believe me, so I’ll put it simply and say that it’s kind of like a hypnosis that makes people into slaves.”

  “…Hypnosis?” Tom repeated. But based on the view of the outside, it did seem to make more sense than, say, a zombie invas
ion. “Well, whatever. If it’s hypnosis, that means someone did it to them, right?”

  “You get right to the point.”

  “I can’t do the job I’ve got now unless I can process new information quickly… So you got any thoughts about who the hypnotist is…?”

  “I’ve got a few ideas, but I can’t imagine any of them would want to surround this place,” Kine replied.

  Tom sighed and hissed back at the nearby employees of Russia Sushi, “Hey, what about you guys? Is there any kind of dangerous bullshit this place is getting sucked into?”

  Denis shot Tom a nasty glare and said, “I don’t know. Why don’t you speak for yourself?”

  “I don’t think I’ve done nothin’ to get a hypnotist pissed at me… Well, I guess there was that one person I saw outside. Who was that again…?”

  “It doesn’t have to be you specifically. Could be folks who have a problem with Shizuo,” Denis pointed out.

  Tom envisioned the boss of the company he worked for—and then his subordinates, Shizuo and Vorona.

  “…Well…yeah, I guess you have a point there. But why me, then?”

  “Probably means you’ve got more personal sway than you realize,” Denis offered as he continued calmly cleaning up the interior of the restaurant.

  “I think you’ve overestimated me,” Tom said with a shrug.

  Then Simon returned from the back, smiling. “Hey, we have sleepover here tonight. I have many fireworks ready, too.”

  There was something that looked like a dirty sack in his hands. Apparently, he’d been digging it up from under the floor of the kitchen.

  “Don’t bring all that dirt over into the restaurant,” Denis snapped, but Simon just grinned and pulled something out of the sack. When Tom saw what it was, his cheeks twitched, and even Kine’s expression darkened.

  It was clear from the look of the object, which resembled a black spray can of hair mousse with a handle and pin attached to it, that it did not belong in a sushi restaurant or in any Japanese city to begin with.

  Simon gestured with the black tube—a military flash grenade—and spoke in his typical tone of voice, as if nothing about the scene was any different than usual.