Durarara!!, Vol. 11

by Ryohgo Narita

  “Honestly, as long as the Dollars and Yellow Scarves aren’t involved, I think they should find a nice riverbank in the sunset and beat each other up…but it doesn’t seem like all the other factors would allow for that to happen. Especially not Mikado.”

  “You mean Aoba Kuronuma…? I guess I really should’ve slit his neck when I had the chance.”

  “No jokes about violence, thanks,” Celty typed, framing it as a joke on purpose, because she knew he was half-serious.

  Neither of them had any idea how to resolve that situation peacefully. Was Mikado correct, and did both the Dollars and Yellow Scarves need to be utterly destroyed so that their relationship could be rebuilt from scratch?

  But that can’t be it. That’s not the right way.

  Celty then wondered why she felt it was wrong. Perhaps the answer, if she found it, might lead to inspiration for a different solution.

  But the answer she got created not an alternative but fresh headaches.

  “Anri.”

  “Huh?”

  “What Mikado’s trying to do…to destroy everything and start over, doesn’t include Anri. That’s what’s wrong. I don’t think it’s the right way,” she told Shinra, her fingers slowly, hesitantly typing her thoughts. “I know just how worried she is about Mikado and Kida. So the idea that they’d totally ignore her feelings and destroy all the strings that bind the two boys together is just not…”

  She stopped there to show Shinra. She could have typed more but felt bad about criticizing Mikado…but eventually she gave in and did so anyway.

  “It’s just too selfish of him.”

  Shinra looked up and smiled at her.

  “You’re so kind, Celty,” he mumbled, staring at her neck with affection. “I love that about you.”

  It was a serious statement, not like the ones he usually made as a means of saying hello.

  “Wwhhaaar id thifallufhasufig”

  She meant to type “What is this all of a sudden?” but something in his tone caused her fingers to tremble and slip.

  “…Uh, sorry, I appreciate that…but I can’t help but be a little self-conscious when you say that with so many people here, if not in the room with us…”

  If she had the same body structure as a human being, her skin would be flushed all over. If she had a head and a face, she might’ve turned away with pink cheeks.

  “Now I won’t be able to sleep, dummy. Hang on… I’m going to see if Anri’s in the usual chat room. She seems to find it easier to talk there than through texting. I’ll go check up on her through the guise of small chat.”

  Having forced the topic of conversation back to more practical matters, Celty felt calm enough now to admit, “I’m uncertain, too. Mikado asked me to keep this all secret from Anri…but I don’t know if it’s right to keep her out of the loop on everything.”

  “Yeah…that’s a tough one. I’m not sure if it’s right to tell her or not, either. I’m sure Izaya would do it without a moment’s hesitation. And in the way designed to cause the most anxiety, too,” Shinra muttered, completely unaware that Izaya had been fanning Anri’s smoldering unease just moments before.

  The idea made Celty oddly uneasy, too. She opened up the laptop nearby and deftly typed into the PDA with her other hand.

  “Good point. Anri’s a tough girl, but she’s also very hard on herself… If we’re going to bring her into the fold, we need to do it gingerly.”

  It was a sentiment that anyone familiar with Anri’s present state of mind would find tragically hollow.

  Cosplay shop, Ikebukuro—at that moment

  “I’m very sorry, that product is sold out for the day…”

  “Oh, I see… Thank you for your help,” said Anri to the employee as she left the shop.

  It had been a few hours since she’d interacted with Izaya, and only now was she regaining her composure. The thought of what would’ve happened if Karisawa hadn’t been there gave her the shivers. If it had just been her alone with Izaya, something awful would’ve happened to her by now.

  Karisawa had listened to all the things bubbling up from fear and anxiety within Anri, and accepted it all. Anri found it strange that the other girl could be so kind and understanding and had asked her why.

  The other girl had smiled gently and brushed her forehead against Anri’s.

  “Grown women take the side of the cute. When you get to be my age, even cool things count as cute. It doesn’t matter if you’re human or not. It’s whether you laugh at the same things and cry at the same things.

  “You’re a cute girl with a good smile, Anri, and you’re so sad about this business between you and your friends that you’re about to cry. So you’re fine, kid. I’ll still accept you for who you are, even if nobody else does.

  “All this stuff about whether you’re human or not? Dotachin and Togupyon don’t care, either. And I bet Yumacchi would be even happier, actually. Listen, even I’m happy about that. Mikado and Kida will be fine with it. I bet they know how kind you are way, way, way better than we do.”

  Despite being trapped in her own concern for Kadota’s condition, Karisawa spent a full hour on the couch in the hospital hallway talking her through her problems. Relief flooded Anri, as much as, if not more so than, when she spoke with Celty.

  There was someone out there who knew her well and still accepted her. That was all it took for a great weight to be lifted off her mind.

  “As far as Mikapuu goes, I’m going to get to a spot where I can use my phone, and I’ll connect to the Dollars’ board to look for info. So in return, can I ask you to run an errand for me?”

  Karisawa went ahead and asked Anri for a favor, perhaps thinking that a bit of fresh air would help improve her mood.

  “I bet that when Dotachin opens his eyes, it’d really cheer him up if all the girls were wearing cat ears.”

  She had then handed Anri cash and a note with directions to the cosplay shop, where she was meant to buy some cat-ear headbands.

  But the headbands were sold out. Since she said “for the day,” they must’ve just stocked up that morning. She considered looking at other stores, but Anri didn’t know anything about cosplay shops or where she should go, so she ended up simply wandering around the area.

  It seemed like there were many businesses around here involving manga and anime, Anri thought, as she stared at the signs on her way.

  Shiver.

  A sudden gust of chill wind shot up her back.

  Huh? What’s this…feeling? Is someone watching me?

  The phrase to feel someone’s gaze was a very, very old one, but this was the first time that Anri had ever felt the sensation of knowing that someone was watching her.

  Then again, it may have been more accurate to say that it was Saika that noticed it, not Anri. The voices of the swords in her mind abruptly began to stir, racing all throughout Anri’s being in what was either joyful welcome or absolute rejection.

  Something’s there.

  Someone’s there.

  Someone with a connection to her, or possibly Saika, was watching her from very close by, the sensation told her.

  Don’t look.

  Don’t turn around, she had told herself.

  Every cell in her body was screaming in warning, but Anri made her mistake.

  She turned toward the gaze.

  And then, when she saw the shadow approaching directly toward her, Anri thought, Is this really coincidence?

  Or are she and I, and perhaps Mikado and Masaomi, all just trapped in the vortex of one giant event?

  The eerie spiraling feeling left it very hard to chalk this up to happenstance alone.

  Meanwhile, Haruna Niekawa, whose appearance alone had put this thought into Anri’s head, came to a stop a short distance away from Anri, a sick smile on her beautiful face, silky black hair swaying in the breeze.

  On a sidewalk in the busy city, two girls stood in place as pedestrians streamed around them.

  Anri couldn’t
find any words to say. Haruna Niekawa quietly smiled and said in a voluptuous voice, “It’s been a while, Sonohara.”

  It was the most Anri could do to say, “Miss…Niekawa.”

  And so Haruna, one of Saika’s children, approached Anri empty-handed and whispered into her ear, “Will you come with me to that park over there?”

  “Huh…?”

  “I don’t mind starting right here…but I’m guessing you wouldn’t want so many people to see, would you?”

  Anri instantly understood what it was that Niekawa wanted to start.

  Because despite the pleasant tones of her voice, it clearly contained a competitive streak against Anri—and a boundless desire to kill.

  Chat room

  .

  .

  .

  Kuru: At any rate, do you suppose this could be a step toward a world-changing revolution? The denizens of the cyber-seas seem to largely take it as a simple prank, but I can tell. This is not a prank. I’m certain it is the real thing.

  Kuru: Many different pieces of footage have purported to be evidence of supernatural phenomena, but I believe the reason they seem so suspect is that all of them were only captured by a single camera!

  Mai: That’s right.

  Kuru: If you had a second camera, capturing the same moment from a completely different angle, showing the moment that a ghost or monster appeared, it would be so much more significant. In the same way that a single person’s eyewitness testimony can be written off as a trick of the eyes, any single-camera footage can be dismissed as edited!

  Kuru: Which makes this particular case so valuable!

  Kuru: They don’t show it directly on TV, and the corporate and news-owned websites place a mosaic over it—but on video and image sites and social media networks like Twittia, many different people are uploading their own videos and pictures!

  Kuru: At this point, I believe we might as well say that it is all true!

  Kuru: On this very day, “something” has appeared in Ikebukuro at last!

  Mai: I’m scared.

  Kuru: There is nothing to be afraid of. Together, we can stand up to any danger. And as long as we die together, I will be fulfilled, Mai.

  Mai: I’m so happy.

  Mai: Kiss.

  Mai: Ouch.

  Mai: I got pinched.

  Setton has entered the chat.

  Setton: Hello.

  Setton: It’s been a while.

  Setton: It looks like Saika…isn’t here.

  Setton: I guess I should just send a text.

  Kuru: Well, well, if it isn’t one of our forebears and guides into the great chat room, Setton. It is an honor to meet you once again.

  Setton: You seem as excitable as ever.

  Mai: Hello.

  Setton: So, um, what happened?

  Setton: Maybe I should scroll back through the log.

  Kuru: Oh my. You must not be aware yet, Setton. Although the rumors only began to spread about the Internet in the last thirty minutes, so I suppose you cannot be blamed for not hearing… In fact, the ability of the news to disseminate this far in just thirty minutes speaks to the incredible power of Twittia, I suppose.

  Mai: It’s scary.

  Kuru: But at any rate, I would recommend turning on the news as a quicker means than scrolling through the backlog or Twittia.

  Setton: The news?

  Kuru: Yes, the noon news program should be starting soon. I expect that Daioh TV will have a special segment on it…

  Setton: Well, I still don’t know what you’re talking about…

  Setton: But I suppose I’ll check it out.

  Kawagoe Highway—Shinra’s apartment

  Celty was curious about what the girls were raving about in the chat room, so she took her laptop out to the living room where the TV was.

  The other people had finished their sleep and begun to gather. Yumasaki had finished watching his summer vacation anime special and was channel surfing. When he noticed that Celty had come into the room, he smiled and asked, “You’re up now, Celty? Or have you been awake the whole time?”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t get to sleep. Do you mind if I change the channel?”

  “Um, how can I mind it? It’s your TV! Please feel free.”

  “Thanks.”

  She took the remote and changed the channel. Up to this point, things were still within the range of peacefulness. Although she was worried about Namie, as long as Seiji was paying attention, she wouldn’t try anything reckless.

  So Celty turned the TV to the Daioh News channel without much trepidation.

  However, the news she was about to witness immediately dragged her, and all the ordinary citizens of the city, into the realm of the surreal.

  “I’m here outside the Ikebukuro Station east gate, at the scene of the incident.”

  The image on the TV was of the familiar entrance to Ikebukuro Station. Only there were vinyl sheets put up over a portion of it, inserting a note of foreboding.

  What’s this? Was there an attacker?

  Given the times, Celty began to fear that someone she knew had been hurt.

  Instantly, she learned that her fear was unfounded. On her laptop, which she’d set down on the table, Kuru had pasted a link. It was directed at an image board of some kind.

  She clicked on the link right as the newscaster began speaking, and she noticed the chyron on the TV screen.

  “It was right here in this crowded rotary, as though designed to affect the largest number of people possible, that around eleven o’clock this morning, someone threw a woman’s head into the crowd.”

  Huh?

  The chyron on the screen read: Madness in broad daylight! Woman’s head at Ikebukuro Station.

  Whuh? She gawped and slowly lowered her gaze to the screen of the laptop. An image burned itself into the part of Celty’s shadow that governed her sense of sight and, from there, into her mind itself.

  In the image, which appeared to have been taken by an ordinary phone camera, a woman’s severed head sat atop the asphalt.

  Everyone in the room looked at one girl.

  Mika Harima.

  The severed head looked terrifyingly similar to her own face.

  Celty was the only one who didn’t turn and look.

  She understood the instant she saw the image.

  It was a picture of her own head.

  Her face, the object she’d been on that long, long quest to recover, was now being shown to the entire world through the Internet.

  She crumpled, toppled to the floor—and fell unconscious, deaf to the voices of everyone present.

  Chapter 6: Ivory Tower

  Ikebukuro—karaoke room

  While the entire nation, not just Ikebukuro, was roiling in reaction to the freakish news, Hiroto Shijima sat in his chair, sweating profusely.

  He had a headband pulling his hair back and dark sunglasses to hide his eyes, in an apparent attempt at disguise. And he was in a very precarious position at the moment.

  Until just recently, he’d been a member of a group that sold illegal drugs. In fact, you might even say he was the one running it. But in the midst of a squabble with another organization called Amphisbaena, Izaya Orihara had plunged him into the very pits of hell.

  Now he was both making contact with the Dollars as Orihara’s cat’s-paw and secretly working on orders from Jinnai Yodogiri. If they found out that he was a spy sent by Izaya, the Dollars would probably dispose of him. If Izaya found out he was a spy for Yodogiri, he would definitely dispose of him.

  So should he be honest and tell Izaya Orihara that Yodogiri made contact? Or should he tell the Dollars that he was an Orihara spy?

  No matter how much he examined the two sides, Shijima was totally unable to determine which one represented the safer choice to him. In the end, he was unable to betray either side, thus tightening the noose ever closer around his neck.

  If I’m going to hell, I might as well take them all with me, Shijima concluded.


  He’d continue being a double agent for as long as he could, find as many vulnerable secrets from each camp as he could, and let them all loose just before he crashed and burned at last.

  It was a reckless gamble, and the chance that he survived it was extremely small. But the pressure on Shijima was such that he didn’t have much of a choice but to roll that die anyway.

  If he went to the police and spilled all the beans, he’d wind up in prison, but at least he might survive. Prison, however, meant losing all the fame he’d built up and might as well represent death to the name of Hiroto Shijima. And ever since the start, he’d never entertained the option that he might be the only one who died.

  Now he was sitting in this chair, sweating away.

  No one was in the room with Hiroto now. The only sound was the menu screen music of the karaoke machine.

  The reason for his disguise was that he was soon to meet an agent of Yodogiri’s. They made contact on a regular basis, but phones left a trail, so they met in person at karaoke places like this one.

  They each entered and left at separate times. Shijima would borrow the room under the offered alias, and the Yodogiri-side contact would pay for it. That would make it harder to trace them, but Hiroto knew from personal experience that it wasn’t wise to underestimate the strength of Izaya Orihara’s information network.

  He didn’t even know how many pawns Izaya had working for him. There was always the possibility that the employee working for the karaoke place was Izaya’s henchman. Hence the disguise, which he put on every time he went out into the city.

  About thirty minutes later, Shijima’s eyes bulged when he saw the man who entered the room.

  He had pulled a heavy beanie low on his head, despite it being summer, and he wore a mask over his mouth. He wore sunglasses, too, but his look was so obviously dodgy that it seemed more likely to attract attention than divert it.

  Even then, as soon as the man came inside, he spat something out of his mouth. Shijima saw that it was gauze and dentures for a disguise as the man peeled off his fake whiskers.

  “Pardon me. Seems like I was late,” the man said, sitting down in a position where he couldn’t be seen from the door. “I’m Mr. Yodogiri’s agent. You must be Hiroto Shijima.”