Durarara!!, Vol. 13

by Ryohgo Narita

  Aoba smirked and shook his head. “The truth is, I wanted to swim with Mr. Mikado. The fish tank got a lot bigger, and the visibility improved with it.”

  “Hey…”

  “But I don’t know if things are going to work out that well anyway. I’ve certainly attracted Chikage Rokujou’s attention, for one thing… And from what I hear, Libei Ying, the boss of Dragon Zombie, is back in Japan. And your least favorite person, Ran Izumii, is still up to something, so there’s no resting easy for us. Not to mention the Yellow Scarves.” Aoba shrugged.

  Masaomi glared at him and declared, “If you try to drag Mikado into any more shit or use what he did as leverage to screw him over, I’m going to destroy you guys for good.”

  “I’ll be careful.” Aoba sighed. Lastly, he gave Anri and Masaomi one true little smile. “And just so you don’t get the wrong idea… I really do have great respect for him.”

  Once Aoba had moved on to Mikado’s hospital room, Masaomi spat, “Be careful, Anri. You go to school with him, right?”

  “Yes, but…I was mostly surprised that he seemed different from usual…”

  She’d heard about the younger boy’s true nature, but actually seeing it in person for the first time had left Anri a bit shaken.

  Masaomi decided to get back to the topic at hand. “Hey…what’ll you say to Mikado when he wakes up?”

  “Well…”

  There was no sign of that actually happening yet, but they had faith. They knew he would regain consciousness. And that was why it would be important for them to know what to say when he did.

  After a bit of thinking, both Masaomi and Anri arrived at the same answer.

  When they walked out of the hospital entrance, Saki was waiting.

  “Oh, you’re here?”

  “Yep. I didn’t want to intrude on the three of you and your private time,” she said with a gentle smile.

  Masaomi rolled his eyes. “Don’t get all weird on me. You’re going to make it hard for me to introduce him to you once he does wake up.”

  Anri listened to Saki and Masaomi talk with a grin on her face but paused when she realized that someone she recognized was approaching from the front gate of the hospital. In fact, though she had no idea, it was the same “very scary man” whom Aoba had just been talking about.

  “Yo, Anri.”

  “Mr. Akabayashi? Why are you here?”

  Masaomi was wary of Akabayashi, perhaps sensing that he was no ordinary civilian—but after a brief introduction from Anri, he and Saki left, looking rather relieved to be going. Once they were gone, Akabayashi said, “I just wanted to give my thanks to the kid who risked his life to save yours. Is he still under?”

  “Yes…”

  “Ah. That’s too bad,” he said, shrugging. In his head, he replayed the negotiations he’d had with Aozaki a few nights earlier.

  Aozaki didn’t want to give up on his plans for Mikado and the Dollars, so Akabayashi had made a suggestion:

  “I know what kind of business we’re in. I’m not asking for mercy or obligation in lettin’ the kids go.”

  In fact, it was less of a suggestion that he had for Aozaki than a simple deal.

  “I’ll give you a part of what I’m dealing in now… Nothin’ fancy, merely a chunk. Would you consider withdrawing from this matter in exchange for that?”

  Aozaki glared at him with surprise and suspicion, but once he understood that Akabayashi was serious, he thought it over and eventually accepted.

  “You really have gone soft. A part of me was actually hopin’ we might finally settle this score, once and for all.”

  But Akabayashi snorted and grinned in his self-deprecating way.

  “Just the opposite. I ain’t senile enough that I’d put the burden of us killin’ each other on some kid’s back. It’s a grown-up’s duty to see that a child gets back to safety when he’s in danger of losing his way, that’s all.”

  Then he shrugged and added one last wry sentiment.

  “Except I don’t pull him back with me—I just push him to where he ought to be.”

  “By the way, I was hopin’ to ask you something again, Anri.”

  “What is it?” she replied.

  Akabayashi paused a moment. “Do you love this Mikado Ryuugamine kid?”

  “…!”

  Her eyes went round, but after a moment, she nodded firmly. “I’m not entirely certain myself…but I think maybe I do.”

  “And that’s…your opinion? Not influenced by anything else?”

  “Huh…?”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant at first, but then she gasped.

  Akabayashi knew her mother. Maybe he knew about Saika, too.

  But rather than follow up on that suspicion, Anri firmly told him, “Yes, mine… That’s my feeling.”

  “All right, then. I’ve got nothing more to worry about.” Akabayashi said not another word hinting at the presence of Saika. He rapped his walking stick with a satisfied smile. “Enjoy your youth while you’ve got it.”

  And reflecting on his past, he spoke his own unvarnished truth.

  “I never had the chance myself.”

  Several weeks later

  “Goodness, look how deep into autumn we are,” murmured Karisawa as sunlight streamed into the van.

  “…It’s the middle of goddamn summer,” Kadota snapped, now healed up and out of the hospital for good.

  Karisawa and Yumasaki protested against this. “What do you mean, Dotachin? Hot and cold weather mean nothing to the indoor types!”

  “That’s right! Obviously, the only real indicator of autumn is when that season of anime begins!”

  Togusa was finally in a better mood these days, now that the windshield and everything else in the van had been repaired. “You guys are indoor types? The ones who hitch rides in my car to get to Animate all the time?”

  “Oh, by the way,” Karisawa said, completely ignoring that comment, “I heard that Ruri Hijiribe’s stalker finally got arrested.”

  “Yep. The bastard’s name is Kisuke Adabashi. I can hardly even believe that he was trying to run her over with a truck! Apparently, a passing fan dragged him out of the vehicle, beat the shit out of him, and left him half-dead in front of the station.”

  “Left him?”

  “I mean, what they did is still assault. No point in getting yourself arrested for it,” Togusa said. His smooth manner suddenly turned feral as his eyes gleamed with murder. “But if it was me, I wouldn’t have turned the guy in at all. I’d grind him into meat.”

  Kadota sighed. “And here we are, back to the usual.”

  He watched the scenery of the city trickle by through the windshield and found a smile naturally coming to his lips.

  “But I guess I kinda like this vibe.”

  Outside of Rakuei Gym

  As the van carrying Kadota and his friends passed by the gym, a few girls and one adult woman popped out of the door.

  “You did great today, Akane! You beat a boy two years older than you! It’s the arrival of a promising future star! There’s a new heroine in the world of wooden-staff combat!” chattered Mairu Orihara.

  “N-no, I just got lucky,” stammered Akane Awakusu, her face flushed.

  Kururi softly rubbed the girl’s head. “…Fortune… Momentum…” [Luck is also a part of skill.]

  “Y-you’re embarrassing me,” Akane insisted, shaking her head.

  Then the assistant instructor who attended to the three of them approached. “I wouldn’t say lucky; that was the kid’s fault,” said Mikage Sharaku. “He got lazy against a female opponent and earned what was coming to him. But…you get passing marks for taking advantage of the opportunity he presented.”

  Then she addressed her newest apprentice directly. “Now, Akane, you’ve joined the gym at a young age, and you take your practice very seriously…but what is it you intend to do with this skill?”

  “…There’s a man I have to beat…”

  “Ooh. A bully in your c
lass, I’m guessing?”

  Akane shook her head and said, in a tiny voice, “Sh…Shizuo Heiwajima.”

  Mikage’s face went slack for a moment, and then she burst into laughter.

  “Ha-ha-ha! That’s perfect! You couldn’t ask for a bigger goal!”

  When Akane’s face went even redder and she stared at the ground, Mairu and Kururi stood up for her.

  “Hey, you shouldn’t laugh at her, Mikage!”

  “…Awful…” [The poor thing.]

  “Oh! Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  The grown woman thought about the man who had challenged that monster single-handedly and then vanished from the city. She murmured wistfully, “I can make you stronger. Strong enough to defeat that monster? I don’t know…but I’d sure love to see that for myself.”

  Inside Russia Sushi

  “Kchoo!”

  A muffled sneeze echoed off the walls of Russia Sushi.

  “Oh, Shizuo, you catch cold? That happen when you don’t get nutrition. When eat our sushi, sick children become healthy children. Fish children are roe; chicken children are eggs. You eat all the children, feel better!”

  “Way to make me lose my appetite,” Tom grumbled to Simon. He turned to Shizuo. “You all right? It’s about that time of year that everyone gets sick.”

  “Oh…I’m sure it’s just someone spreading a rumor about me. You know how that superstition goes.”

  “Ah… Maybe it’s Vorona, telling her dad and his buddies all about your heroic exploits.”

  “Don’t tease me about that… I didn’t do anything that anyone would call heroic,” Shizuo muttered, head downcast.

  Just the other day, Vorona had gone with an acquaintance she called Slon back to Russia. She claimed it was something about facing her father and her past self, but Shizuo didn’t pry into it at all. When he looked into her eyes, he saw a special kind of resolve there and knew that it wasn’t his place to intrude upon her struggle.

  Still, he did have some parting words.

  “I’m not gonna ask for details…but you are an important coworker of mine. I’m your senior here, so if you ever need help, I’ve got an ear to listen.”

  Vorona grinned at that, then admitted, “If the possibility for me to visit this city again is approved…I will desire a battle upon our reunion.”

  Shizuo was a bit nonplussed by the use of the word battle. But she continued, “I wish to speak with you in direct terms, at risk of my very life… To experience the joy of existing in this world is my desire.”

  Denis sensed the feelings that were running through Shizuo as he recalled that conversation.

  “Don’t worry about her,” he said. “Her old man acts cruel and stubborn, but he’s much more compassionate than you’d think. Once she finds the right timing, she’ll be back here to visit.”

  Shizuo admitted, as much to himself as to Denis, “The truth is, it’s thanks to her that I can act like a person at all… And I feel bad that I never got to thank her for that…”

  Simon piped up. “Shizuo is genuine human being. We guarantee it. Genuine, sunshine, coastline, gold mine. We offer all the best fish, no fakes. Moonfish, negitoro, halibut, mahi-mahi nigiri, conger, sea snake, everything good, make you happy, make you full.”

  He was clearly just reading the names of the sushi off the list on the wall, but before Shizuo or Tom could reply, a peculiar sound reached their ears.

  Qrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…

  It appeared to be coming from the expressway between Russia Sushi and Sunshine City—an eerie engine sound that resembled a horse’s whinny. Shizuo, Tom, Denis, Simon, and even the other employees and customers grinned a little.

  As if they felt an irreplaceable measure of reliable familiarity in the urban legend, that absolutely abnormal being, still around and wandering the city in broad daylight.

  Tokyo

  A motorcycle without a headlight stopped on the side of the road.

  “You should be all right after coming this far,” Celty typed into her PDA. Seeing the message from the back seat of the motorcycle, Shinra gave her a big smile.

  “Thanks for the huge help, Celty. My broken leg isn’t fully healed yet, so I wouldn’t have been able to get away on my own.”

  “I can’t begin to imagine what you did to get both the Chinese mafia and the Asuki-gumi chasing after you,” she typed, exasperated.

  Shinra gleefully answered, “The vicissitudes of life are woven of fortune, good or ill. Sadness and gladness succeed each other. To have the pleasure, you must endure the pain. There doesn’t need to be an answer to explain days like this.”

  “I feel like the only thing you’d ever weave is disaster…”

  “Whatever do you mean?! Just going on a drive with you like this is the greatest bliss I could possibly hope to grab, Celty. And I say that because what I’m grabbing is your body, eh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-helb-grbl-guh!”

  She used her shadow to clamp down on his face and typed out, “Then you’ll need to suffer to balance things out.”

  It was just like always—silly, idle flirting.

  When they were done, and Shinra was free of his shadow shackles, he said to her seriously, “Hey, Celty.”

  “What?”

  “Tell me the truth. Do you still have the memories of your head now?”

  “Why would you ask this?”

  Shinra hadn’t touched upon the matter ever since the night in question. Part of that was because his injuries had festered and his broken bones had come loose again, but even after he had recovered somewhat, Shinra still hadn’t asked about Celty’s memories.

  He must have decided that this was the right moment and summoned up the determination to go ahead with it.

  “It’s not like when it got severed while you were asleep. If it happened when you were wide awake, though…”

  “That doesn’t actually matter,” she typed out before he had even finished asking the question. She wasn’t trying to shut him up to hide the truth. She was putting her honest feelings into each word and relating them directly to him.

  “I’ll always be with you.”

  “…”

  “If you can sense a person’s feelings that accurately, don’t embarrass me by forcing me to type this out, you jerk.”

  “…Celty!”

  Out of an abundance of emotion, he clutched her around the midriff from behind. She hastily sent out shadows to pry him loose.

  “Control yourself, you idiot! We’re in public,” she typed, her fingers pausing partway—she’d spotted a familiar face in the process of looking around.

  “Yo.”

  It was a traffic officer on a motorcycle, grinning at her.

  “Puttin’ on quite a show, huh, monster?”

  “Um, this isn’t—”

  “I hate to ruin your blissful display…but are you aware that this road, upon which you are engaging in a public display of affection, does not allow parking?”

  The officer, Kuzuhara, was no longer smiling now. More engines roared all around them, and many more white police motorcycles appeared.

  Shinra timidly asked her, “Um…what’s going on here, Celty?”

  “Shinra.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t die.”

  Before he could so much as emit a questioning peep, Celty’s shadows were spreading around them, seeking a rapid escape. Shinra nearly passed out from the phenomenal roller-coaster Gs he pulled, strapped to her back, as she raced away.

  Celty Sturluson was not human.

  She was a type of fairy commonly known as a dullahan—found from Scotland to Ireland—a being that visits the homes of those close to death to inform them of their impending mortality.

  The dullahan carried its own severed head under its arm, rode on a two-wheeled carriage called a Cóiste Bodhar that was pulled by a headless horse, and approached the homes of the soon to die. Anyone foolish enough to open the door was drenched with a basinful of blood.
Thus, the dullahan, like the banshee, made its name as a herald of ill fortune throughout European folklore.

  But that was all in the past.

  Now she was a living urban legend and a woman leading a happy life in love with a man named Shinra Kishitani.

  And so wishing and hoping that this happiness would continue indefinitely…

  …the living legend spent another day racing through the city.

  Another day, another month

  How much time had passed?

  The boy woke from long dreams of darkness and opened eyes fuzzy with sleep.

  The light was blinding, his vision still unclear.

  When he craned his neck, he heard a nurse speaking with alarm.

  “Mr. Ryuugamine opened his eyes…

  “Call the parents at once…”

  Then he thought he heard voices calling his name.

  “Mikado!” “Mikado!”

  A boy and a girl. Familiar, fond voices.

  “…A…auh…”

  He couldn’t speak words; his tongue felt stiff and clumsy.

  Over agonizing moments, he finally gained enough control to make himself understood.

  “…Masaomi…? Sono…hara…?”

  They were practically grunts—just exhaled air. But the boy and girl understood what he said, and they squeezed his hands tight.

  “Welcome back, Mikado.”

  “It’s good to see you again.”

  Through vision hazy with blinding light, he sensed their voices—and before he could even process what this meant, he was aware that tears were running down his face.

  They never stopped.

  Whether ordinary times or extraordinary, he sensed that behind their words was what he always wanted.

  The boy’s tears kept falling.

  This is a twisted story.

  A story of twisted love.

  With the whinnying of an urban legend,

  or with a boy’s tears,