“You might be right about that.”
“And you’re the one who drove him crazy. You might not have intended for it to happen, but Shinra Kishitani was nevertheless bewitched by a dullahan—an otherworldly being. It might be his own belief that you are greater than human, but once that idea took root, it only makes sense that he’d consider humanity to be of lower importance, right?”
He was obviously trying to rattle Celty, but she neither avoided his challenge nor felt bothered by it.
“Yes, I understand that. I’ve never thought of myself as being all that special, but I do agree that it might be because of me that Shinra ended up so abnormal.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m not going to do anything. I’ll be with Shinra to the end,” she declared.
Izaya’s eyes slid away. He snorted. “Is that meant to be some kind of atonement? Don’t you know that spoiling him will only make Shinra’s hatred of humanity—no, not hatred, his disinterest in humanity—even worse?”
“Maybe it will. But right now…I don’t want to be separated from him. I realized this stronger than ever when he recently got hurt. I can’t forgive those who hurt him, and I’m willing to play along with your distasteful work to get even.”
“…”
“You see, Shinra does love me…and I love him, too.”
Izaya read the long, long message, and his lips loosened into a little smile. He shrugged and turned his back on Celty. “You’re making me embarrassed just by reading that. I wonder if the reason you can say that without pause is either because you’re more human than human or because you’re not human at all… But in either case, you’re a monster, so I’m not interested.”
“You’re all talk.”
“But I’ve got nothing else to say.”
Izaya walked toward the rooftop fence and picked up a bag that had been resting against it.
“So, let’s discuss this job.”
Several minutes later
Outside the building, the rider in the black suit rubbed the seat of her motorcycle. In the figure’s left hand was a black carrying bag for a laptop—the item Izaya Orihara had entrusted to the courier.
A man hiding behind a vending machine spoke into his phone.
“It’s the Black Rider. Confirmed.”
On the other end of the line was a soft-spoken man. “So the rider’s connected to Izaya Orihara.”
“Hey, Shijima, what’s Kumoi saying?”
“He’s curious as to what Orihara’s ferrying around, but we know for sure that he’s been looking into Amphisbaena the last few days. Maybe he’s already found something.”
“Shall I keep watching?”
“…Nah, we don’t want the Awakusu-kai destroying Amphisbaena. Remember, the whole point of this is for us to take over their system entirely.”
Shijima’s Heaven’s Slave group learned about the existence of Amphisbaena shortly after Akabayashi dealt the drug dealers a devastating setback. Among their buyers was someone who’d made some money at Amphisbaena’s secret casino, so as a test, they snuck a few of their own in to gamble there.
But after a few times trying their luck, every one of their friends stopped getting the usual notices informing them of the location of the next casino event, all at once. Shijima had to assume that Amphisbaena were onto them.
In fact, that customer of theirs who had first told them about Amphisbaena also stopped getting the notices, and he complained that it was their fault. However, that gentleman didn’t argue for long once they threatened to withhold his drugs.
They found the reason for their being disinvited quite easily. The casino used special chips in the shape of large coins that were only distributed to members. They served as identification when making a bet and recorded wins and losses electronically.
Upon dismantling one and examining it, they found what looked like a bug and a transmitter. Amphisbaena must’ve been gleaning information through the chips, which helped them identify potential sources of danger that they ought to close out of the loop.
The devices didn’t have very powerful batteries, of course, but the chips were exchanged for new ones at every casino event. They claimed it was to prevent against tampering with internal data, but in light of this new information, it seemed clear that it was actually so they could pop in fresh batteries on a short turnaround.
With an intercept and a GPS transmitter, they could effectively collect the secrets of their members and utilize that information for extortion and blackmail when needed. But if anyone found out about the transmitter, it would lead to trouble. Shijima suspected it must’ve sent some kind of emergency signal when dismantled, which ensured that they could cut loose any casino members who violated their trust.
“Kumoi wants that system. I think it’s quite fascinating myself. If we choose our place carefully, we could even create our own new network for selling Heaven’s Slave. I’d like to have connections to get those bugs and transmitters wholesale, too.”
“So we’re not going to just destroy them,” said the man watching the Black Rider.
On the other end of the line, Shijima said, “That’s right. Just a discussion…or a fair transaction at the minimum should be sufficient. And there’s no point to any of it if we don’t have personal information on who we’re dealing with.”
“And that’s what we’re leaving up to this Izaya Orihara guy.”
“That’s right. If he’s doing this on behalf of the Awakusu-kai, we’ve got to handle him before he finishes the job.”
“Handle?” the man repeated.
If there was any doubt as to the clinical nature of that term, Shijima eliminated it by making his meaning ice clear. “We don’t want the Awakusu-kai finding out this stuff. Once we’ve got the information, it would be best if he quietly vanished.”
“So you’re gonna kill him?”
“Don’t say that out loud in the open. What if someone overhears you?”
“Wait, I thought you said that in the worst-case scenario, we could at least make a deal with him,” protested the man, unnerved by the ease with which Shijima suggested a hit.
“That was referring to Amphisbaena,” clarified Shijima, who seemed confused. “They’re at odds with the Awakusu-kai. But Izaya Orihara is working for them. So how would we join forces with him?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Why are you so pessimistic about this? Yes, we failed, but the point is, we’ve already attempted to kill Akabayashi before.”
“But he’s just a civilian,” said the man, still persisting.
Shijima’s tone stayed even. “Dogs working on the Awakusu-kai’s orders aren’t ‘just civilians.’”
“But…”
“Hang on. I just got a message from Mr. Kumoi.”
“…?!”
The lookout’s mind, which was still lukewarm with indecision, instantly froze as though clutched by dry ice at the mention of Kumoi’s name.
“I’ve got to go see him.”
“…Are you…serious?”
“Yeah…I might have some new scars to show off next time.” Shijima sighed. He chuckled and suggested, “Maybe I’ll force Izaya Orihara to pay the price for these injuries.”
With a little smile, Shijima offered one last bit of evidence for his argument.
“See? Now we’ve got another reason to kill him, don’t we?”
Twelve years ago, last day of summer vacation, Raijin Middle School
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Well, it’s not your problem, is it?”
“Hey, I told my family that I thought of you as a friend.”
“And?”
“So if it becomes a question of why my friend was doing this and I didn’t stop him…that’s a problem for me.”
“Are you an idiot, Shinra? It’s like you have no free will of your own. Are you just a puppet who does what your family says?”
“I’m fine with being a puppet
if it means I’m connected by a string to someone I care about.”
“This is a pointless conversation.”
A student from the art club happened to overhear this quiet argument on the way past the biology room. It was clearly a disagreement but didn’t seem likely to escalate into a fight, so the student continued onward.
Five minutes later…
“What was that sound?!” demanded a PE teacher who’d been giving lessons down on the field and came running up to the room when he heard the sound of breaking glass.
He found a student on the ground, tape wrapped around his bloodied torso. His face was pale and his breathing shallow.
“Kishitani?! What happened?!”
Shinra Kishitani gave a bloodless smile to reassure the teacher and quietly muttered, “I got…stabbed a bit. Can you…call an…ambulance?”
A few hours later, Izaya Orihara finally made his appearance, turning himself in to the police for processing.
The vice president of the biology club stabbed the president and then ran.
What happened between the two? Shinra Kishitani and his father did not file charges, and the school was terrified of what the news would do to appearances—so the incident simply faded into the shadows of history, never reported.
The only permanent records of it were on Shinra’s stomach and Izaya’s past.
Chat room
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The chat room is currently empty.
The chat room is currently empty.
The chat room is currently empty.
TarouTanaka has entered the chat.
TarouTanaka: Hello.
TarouTanaka: It’s been quite a while.
TarouTanaka: I just read the backlog. It looks like we’ve had many new people join.
TarouTanaka: My name is TarouTanaka.
TarouTanaka: I’m sorry I haven’t been available recently.
TarouTanaka: I think it’s likely I won’t be able to visit for a while yet.
TarouTanaka: Oh, not because I’m in trouble or anything, just that I’m busy…
TarouTanaka: If I’m able to drop by again, I’ll try to be a newcomer and make up for lost time.
TarouTanaka: I’d like to be able to enjoy some fun chats about Ikebukuro with Setton and everyone else.
TarouTanaka: Well, that’s all.
Bacura has entered the chat.
Bacura: Hello.
Bacura: TarouTanaka,
Bacura: It’s too bad you won’t be able to come for a while.
Bacura: Let’s talk again sometime.
TarouTanaka: Hello, Bacura.
TarouTanaka: Well, thanks for letting me say my mind, everyone.
TarouTanaka: So long.
TarouTanaka has left the chat.
Bacura has left the chat.
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In a Dark Place 5
“So, Izaya Orihara. You’re friends with that Black Rider, huh?”
“…”
“You’ve had that urban legend riding around and looking for scoops on us, haven’t you? As well as Heaven’s Slave. Did you have the rider contact them, perhaps?”
“…”
In the darkened bar, Earthworm was still talking to the hooded man.
The cake had been put away however long ago, and there were now three dozen two-liter bottles of mineral water neatly arranged on the counter of the bar instead.
As usual, Earthworm was doing all the talking; the man with the sack over his head said nothing in response.
Did that count as conversation? For Earthworm’s part, she certainly felt like they were sharing a mental connection.
“Like I said earlier, neither the owner nor I know much about them…but if they’re going to get in our way, we need to crush them soon. So if there’s anything you know about this Heaven’s Slave, I’d love to hear it now.”
“…”
“In either case, once your sisters arrive, you’ll want to talk, I think. Or should I smash your fingers one by one with a hammer? There’s still a stain on that table from the last person we had to do that to… Wanna see? Oh, right! You can’t see through that sack! Ha-ha, sorryyy!”
Beneath the hood, her conversation partner’s face and mind alike were racked with fear. The repetition of threats was the only way Earthworm knew how to communicate, and it was the only time she felt a connection to another person.
“You know, I think you and I can get along much, much better.”
“…”
She put one hand to his neck and held a bottle in her other. Liquid sloshed around inside it, loud enough so that he could hear.
“Want respite?”
“…”
“Don’t want to die?”
“…”
“Worried about your sisters? Or about yourself?”
> “…”
The man maintained his silence throughout each of the rapid-fire questions.
But Earthworm was happy with that. Silence was, in fact, the very thing that fed her soul more than anything else.
Even though she hadn’t been inflicting any direct pain, the woman sensed that the man’s commitment to silence was considerable. Normally, a person would at least hurl back an insult or two by now, but he’d been admirable in his restraint.
“Say, are you feeling secure in your situation? Are you finding solace in the idea…that you and your sisters couldn’t possibly be killed today? You wouldn’t do that, would you? I mean, you couldn’t…not if you’d actually found out what we’re like.”
Earthworm giggled and slowly unscrewed the cap on the bottle.
“I love our owner! I would do anything for the owner.”
“…”
“And I mean anything…”
She chuckled darkly. The bottle tilted over the burlap sack until the liquid inside slowly poured out. It dripped in fine formations with hardly any splatter, maximizing the amount that seeped into the fabric. She rotated the bottle carefully and evenly around his head so that the entirety of the sack was soaked but not his clothes or the floor.
“I would’ve been fine with using acid to melt that bag and your face into disgusting blobs, but I wasn’t feeling how gnarly and sinister that is. I wanted a different effect… Something brighter!”
As she spoke, the smell of the liquid filled the room. It was a very distinct odor that was obvious to anyone who’d smelled it before: kerosene. Not as distinct as in the moment of extinguishing a kerosene lamp but plenty strong enough to identify it.
“Are you holding up? Not suffocating? And don’t breathe in too hard and get high, okay? Wait, does kerosene get you high the way paint thinner does? Anyway…”
“…”
“Well, when your sisters get here, we’ll be doing a variety of things to them…and at about the halfway point, I’ll burn the sack, okay? Then it’ll burn off, and you’ll be able to see exactly what’s happening to them. You’ll want to hold your breath when it’s burning, okay? The fire will suck the oxygen out of your lungs. No guarantees on how many minutes that will take to finish.”
Durarara!!, Vol. 9 Page 12
