Durarara!!, Vol. 8

by Ryohgo Narita

“That cat your brother brought around yesterday sure was cute, though,” Tom murmured out of the blue.

  “Affirmative,” Vorona agreed. “Appearance of cat scaling Shizuo’s head is accurately described as lovely.”

  “If anything, I’m more of a dog person,” Shizuo griped. Even as the coworkers chatted, he was a bit preoccupied, worrying about the stalker attacking Yuuhei and Ruri.

  Shit, if I just knew who it was, I could punch him up to the roof of the Sunshine building…

  Unaware of the violent fantasies in his companion’s head, Tom rubbed his stomach and said, “Well, we finished up early today, and work went well, so once we turn in the collection, why don’t we celebrate a little at Russia Sushi?”

  Vorona responded to her boss’s suggestion with a shake of the head. “Suggest idea similar to a declination. Taking sustenance at an establishment containing acquaintances should be avoided due to reasons of nervousness and embarrassment.”

  “Don’t say that about them. They’re your fellow countrymen, right? But if you really insist, I guess we could eat sukiyaki at Mo-Mo Paradise’s Ikebukuro location. You in the mood for anything in particular, Shizuo?”

  “I’m down for whatever.”

  “Hmm, what should we do? Head down Meiji Street for some Okinawan food, maybe?”

  The trio walked along leisurely through the neighborhood as the sun began to set. Then a shadow crossed their path.

  It was a thin boy, his hair bleached blond.

  “Hmm? What’s up, buddy? You want something from us?” asked Tom, assuming from the kid’s superficial appearance that he was some past challenger of Shizuo’s coming back for revenge.

  But the boy lowered his head, his expression deadly serious, and said, “I’m sorry…to interrupt your work. I must make an apology…to Shizuo Heiwajima…”

  “Oh yeah?” asked Shizuo, who’d been largely ignoring the boy until his name was mentioned. “Who the hell are you?”

  “My name is…Masaomi Kida.”

  “Masaomi Kida?” Shizuo repeated, his brow wrinkling.

  Huh? I’ve heard that name before. But when? I think it was about six months ago…

  Vague shreds of memories collected in the back of Shizuo’s mind.

  Cold rain. Hot lead.

  “…Hmm?”

  A powerful shock that ran through his side and leg.

  “You want someone to blame? How about the guy who gave me the orders and the gun?”

  A vulgar, despicable man’s voice, covering terror with bravado.

  “Masaomi Kida’s your man!”

  A stumble of the leg. Approaching asphalt.

  The sensations and images flickered through Shizuo’s mind.

  “Oh yeah,” said his boss, Tom, not Shizuo. “You’re the Yellow Scarves guy…”

  Sensing the moment of no return, Masaomi clenched his fists like a man preparing for death. Imagining the imminent possibility that his next words might end with his neck being snapped in half, he opened his mouth and firmly announced his presence.

  “I was the leader of the Yellow Scarves, the guys who shot you…Masaomi Kida.”

  Mikado’s apartment

  “That’s weird…”

  Mikado Ryuugamine sighed as he sat at his desk, facing the computer. He was looking at the admin page of the Dollars’ message board.

  In order to determine the truth of the rumor that Ruri Hijiribe’s stalker was within the Dollars, Mikado was utilizing his admin access to view all manner of Ruri-related pages on the Dollars’ community site.

  But he was looking at the screen in disbelief, like something strange was going on.

  High school was a precious time, limited to, usually, just three years of one’s life. And summer vacation was even more precious.

  He had to laugh that he was spending his first day chained to his computer inside, but he didn’t have an ounce of regret. Mikado thought about his hometown with a fresh miso rice cracker hanging from his mouth—a gift from back home.

  I took the trip home early last year, but this year I warned them that I wouldn’t be back until Obon… If possible, I want to at least put a pin in this matter. I have no idea exactly how far until I’ve “put a pin” in it…but I at least need to do everything I can…

  It was his childhood friend from back home who put Mikado into this state of determination.

  Those memories eventually grew to include Anri Sonohara, as the trio spent its first year at Raira Academy together.

  He’d gone to karaoke and bowling with other boys and girls from the school, but at lunch and after school, and during all school activities in general, the three of them were a unit.

  There were times that he worried Anri wasn’t hanging out with other girls, but he enjoyed the time they spent with Masaomi so much that he never remembered to actually broach the topic with her.

  And now, Masaomi was missing from the picture.

  Time had stopped inside of Mikado until the day of Masaomi’s eventual return.

  When that happened, all three would openly discuss their secrets so that time could progress once more.

  At least, that’s what Mikado believed.

  The change in Mikado happened during the holiday in May.

  The incident that unfolded had left him shocked in many ways. The violence of the “extraordinary” that he’d sought so fervently had left his world just a little bit bent.

  Now, he intentionally avoided the chat room where he was able to talk with Masaomi. He was determined not to let the online connection water down his commitments.

  Mikado was forgetting the rush of emotion he’d felt when first chatting with his friend, under the username of Bacura.

  Perhaps that was just the extent of the shocks from that Golden Week incident.

  But Mikado’s beliefs did not change. When he and Masaomi and Anri were together again, they could finally keep moving forward.

  That feeling hadn’t changed in the slightest; what had shifted was the idea that he had to protect this place for the three of them, this home to return to, with his own hands. Or if needed, to build it himself.

  That thought alone altered Mikado Ryuugamine’s gears—and sent him rolling in a totally different direction.

  Mikado sat back from his long session of online tinkering and sighed.

  …So that’s what it is.

  Whatever this epiphany was, he continued his work and started downloading a number of files from the Internet.

  And then…

  “…? Huh? …?!”

  When he opened the image files to look at them, the expression froze on his face.

  And when he read the text files attached to them, the color from his face began to drain away.

  “No way…”

  After several seconds of trembling, he quickly pulled out his phone and placed a call to a number on his contacts list.

  “………Ah! Hello? It’s me…”

  “What’s wrong, Mikado? You sound short of breath,” Aoba greeted him from the other end of the line.

  Mikado spoke his orders hastily, in a tone of voice that he rarely ever used:

  “Sorry to bug you, but…I need you to get your people together right now.”

  Somewhere in Tokyo, a man said, “The Dollars haven’t changed a bit.”

  The woman at his side said something in response, but he ignored it and continued talking, juggling two knives all the while.

  “From what I hear, Mikado’s undergone a bit of a change lately… I can’t wait to see how he’s grown for myself.”

  The young man grinned, just as the cell phone in his waist pocket played a ringtone.

  “Hello? Anything interesting to mention?” he asked, his voice cheerful for the party on the other line. But the smile suddenly vanished from his eyes, remaining only on his mouth.

  “Ahhh. Shizu and Kida, eh…?

  “I wonder—why is Shizu still breathing, anyway?”

  “You’re that kid who was running arou
nd hitting on girls last year, aren’t you?”

  “…”

  “I see… So you’re the one whose name those sick bastards were shouting,” Shizuo said, cracking his neck and taking a step forward.

  “Hey, Shizuo,” Tom warned, but when he saw the look on his partner’s face, all he could do was shrug his shoulders.

  “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m not here to make excuses,” Masaomi said and gritted his teeth.

  Yup, I’m about to die.

  He sensed a tingling in his fingertips and clenched his fists tighter.

  I thought I might squeak through this, but I might really be a goner this time.

  Preparing for the punch to crack his neck or perhaps just rip his entire head loose, Masaomi felt his life start flashing before his eyes.

  I’m sorry, Saki. You deserve better, Anri, Mikado.

  But instead, the only thing Shizuo did was poke Masaomi on the forehead with his index finger and scold, “I’m older than you, y’know. You gotta treat me with a bit more respect.”

  “…Huh?” Masaomi mumbled, his head tilted backward.

  “I heard the story from Celty. Those punks were just bullshitting around, weren’t they?”

  “Celty?”

  Masaomi didn’t know the Headless Rider’s name, but he recovered from his confusion quickly enough and protested, “But still, the root of the whole matter lies with me! If I’d taken proper control of my men, you wouldn’t have been shot…”

  Shizuo’s right hand loomed within reach of Masaomi. It approached his forehead again, the thumb holding down the middle finger this time.

  “I told you to be respectful.”

  He playfully flicked the boy’s head.

  “Whup!”

  Masaomi grunted in the manner of a sound effect and fell to the ground.

  It was a total overreaction for your ordinary forehead flick, but given that it came from Shizuo, its power was probably more like a nonlethal rubber bullet used for pacifying crowds.

  Shizuo stood over the boy on the ground, arms crossed, and said, “Well, I’ve wiped out those stupid punks, and I don’t have any ill will toward the Yellow Scarves…but I’m guessing that alone wasn’t enough for you. So consider that forehead flick as settling our account.”

  Tom crouched down next to the boy. “I wasn’t gonna say anything since you didn’t seem mad about it,” he mumbled, examining the state of Masaomi’s eyes, which were rolling upward from the effects of a concussion, “but can’t you hit him any softer than that?”

  “That’s weird… Did I really do it that hard…? I mean, even for me, it’s still just a flick of the finger, you know?”

  Shizuo tried flicking himself in the forehead a number of times. The impact made very un-flick-ish sounds like thwud and kaplam, but Shizuo himself didn’t react much beyond a slight tilt of the head.

  “I announce a question. Forehead flick is a secret technique of what martial art? It does not exist among the knowledge of any book I have read. From the movement of the finger, I theorize it is a type of finger-pointing.”

  “So I’m guessing you don’t know about the hand-slapping game, either…”

  Meanwhile, Masaomi’s vision was finally starting to clear up.

  The dude in dreads leaned over and asked, “Hey, you okay?”

  “Uh…s-sorry.”

  “Don’t hold it against him. That was his way of going easy on you. I know that you might think getting a good solid punch would be a better way to square up your account with him…but that could easily be fatal, y’know?”

  “…Good point.” Masaomi grimaced, but he was still uneasy, like there was something eating at him.

  Is that really it? I mean, Shizuo got shot…right…? Is that…all it takes…for me to…?

  Emotions swirled inside of Masaomi’s head.

  Sensing that inner conflict, Tom stretched and said, “Hey, if you’re not hurt that bad, lucky you. By the way, kid—you hungry?”

  “Huh?”

  “Whenever anything big happens, the best thing is to stuff yourself with food. C’mon, I’m buying.”

  Umm…this is the guy…who’s always with Shizuo, right…?

  He stared at the older man, who rubbed his neck and explained, “My name’s Tanaka—I’m Shizuo’s boss. Call me Tom. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, it seems like a real pain in the ass, but I’m betting that you’ll be better off getting it all out of your system, right? And I don’t like knowing that my employee’s involved in something that isn’t quite cleared up all the way. It makes me uneasy. So let’s get something good to eat and make sure everything is even between us.”

  “But…I came here to apologize. Why should…?”

  “Oh, I didn’t say I was gonna buy it for free.”

  “Huh?”

  Masaomi unsteadily got to his feet, and Tom smirked at him.

  “You were the leader of the Yellow Scarves or whatever, right? I’m wondering what’s going on with them now… Mind telling me whatever you might know?”

  Anri’s apartment

  “There, there.”

  Anri scratched Dokusonmaru’s throat with the tip of her finger. The cat rolled back onto the floor, spreading its limbs and displaying its belly. She rubbed his tummy with her palm, and he squealed, “Nauu,” and proceeded to writhe with pleasure.

  Once she had set up the cat’s litter box and other items from the carrier bag, Anri didn’t have much else to do other than play with the kitten.

  She saw much of her childhood cat in Dokusonmaru, and she found herself fondly reminiscing.

  The calico cat had been like a friend to young Anri, back when her home was attached to the family business, the curio shop Sonohara-dou.

  She had no fun memories from back then, but at least the ones of her mother and that cat had been a sort of solace to her.

  Until Anri’s father kicked the cat and killed it.

  I guess even celebrities like Ruri Hijiribe have their troubles…

  Anri hadn’t paid much attention to the sense of something abnormal she picked up around the actress. After all, she herself wasn’t entirely human, either, to say nothing of Celty.

  But there was no feeling of camaraderie from that, and she couldn’t even tell if Ruri herself was aware of it. Anri was much more concerned about the girl being stalked than anything regarding her nature.

  I wonder…if this stalker is someone like Mika. Or maybe they’re more like Niekawa…

  That girl Haruna Niekawa had attacked her half a year ago. The memory saddened Anri.

  Why do they do those things…? I don’t really understand…

  She recalled the sensation she’d picked up from Ruri and felt a sudden chill.

  Was her concern about Mikado really a normal, ordinary feeling?

  Anri wasn’t human to begin with; could her instincts and concerns really be trusted?

  She knew from the start that she wasn’t normal. So she couldn’t be sure if her feelings were truly accurate or not.

  Just as it had been when she’d hung out with Mika Harima, the time she’d spent with Mikado and Masaomi formed a kind of baseline.

  Now, one of those two people was acting strangely—similar to when Masaomi Kida had been acting strangely and got into trouble involving the Yellow Scarves.

  Except this was different.

  When Masaomi had been acting strange, she’d still had Mikado at her side.

  But now she had no one.

  Were her worries about Mikado actually accurate?

  Would an ordinary person look at the situation and decide that it was actually Mikado who was being reasonable?

  She had no one to answer her doubts.

  “…”

  Thinking about the fond days of their little trio had caused her hand to stop petting the cat. It mewed and tried to rub against her, making her smile.

  Saika had no interest in cats and repeated the usual words of love inside her head, like at any other m
oment.

  Hearing the words of love for humanity repeated en masse made her consider something: If she fused entirely with Saika, would that make her able to accept Mikado and Masaomi, no matter how much they changed?

  She recalled something Izaya Orihara had once said:

  “If you really want a tranquil, peaceful life, you should use that katana to slash everyone you know.”

  No…

  “Once you’re the queen, you’ll get what you want.”

  You’re wrong… That’s wrong!

  She felt revulsion in the pit of her stomach and swallowed spit.

  Despite the sudden gloomy mood, Dokusonmaru wriggled and stretched. The cat’s cute, innocent nature took the sting out of her feelings, and Anri smiled and relaxed a bit.

  …Huh? Wait…am I allowed to keep pets at this apartment? she wondered, a fresh concern to mull over. But soon she was back to petting the cat’s belly.

  “There, there…”

  Haruna Niekawa and a mysterious masked assailant: Those people were responsible for the two times Anri had been attacked at her apartment.

  Now a third shadow she was unaware of watched her home—while she allowed herself to relax in a momentary haze of peacefulness.

  And as she played with the cat, her mind continued only to recall her memories of Mikado and Masaomi.

  Sunshine Street, Ikebukuro

  “Um…why don’t we just go to Russia Sushi, then? I can pay my own way.”

  At Masaomi Kida’s suggestion, Shizuo and Tom were able to convince Vorona to drop her resistance to eating at the sushi place.

  “I’ve got to thank Simon for something, too, so I might as well do it now…”

  “What? You know Simon, too?” Shizuo asked.

  “Well, the kid was the boss of the Yellow Scarves, so you’d figure he knows people around town,” Tom said.

  “…”

  “…You know, I’ve been wondering, is there some painful memory you associate with the Yellow Scarves or what? If so, I’m sorry—I won’t bring it up again,” Tom said to Masaomi, who looked downcast.