Izaya squinted, looking for the figure of a man charred to a crisp. Then he felt a dull shaking at his feet and grabbed the steel beam for support.
An earthquake?
It was fierce and yet muffled, like the earth itself was rumbling and rocking.
No, that’s not it.
An ordinary person would chalk it up to a quake. But Izaya knew.
There was no coincidental tremor right at this exact moment. There was one possible source that was far more likely, given the circumstances.
Izaya gripped the corner of the pillar and gazed into the center of the shrinking, focusing flames.
And then he saw it. Right in the center of the fire.
There was a large shadow, right around the spot where Shizuo had been kneeling earlier. But it was not in the form of a human figure consumed by the fire.
It was a massive hole in the floor with cracks spreading away from it like the web of a spider. A shiver ran down Izaya’s back.
That monster. Did he punch through the floor with his upper-half strength alone?
Moments ago, Shizuo had been paralyzed on the floor due to lack of air. He was able to move his torso but hadn’t recovered enough oxygen to use his legs to stand.
So he had used whatever muscles he could to inflict enough damage to break through the floor. Perhaps it had been with his fists or elbows or forehead; Izaya couldn’t tell.
All he knew was that the smashing sound he had heard earlier along with the burst of heat and light hadn’t been from the explosion but had been the sound of the floor crumbling with the force of Shizuo’s blow.
Did he fall through a hole to escape?! Or maybe…
There were two possibilities.
One was that he had punched a hole in the floor and escaped the flames by falling through it.
The other was that, like a grasshopper slamming its legs against the ground for greater recoil, the sheer force of hitting the floor had buffeted the rest of his body clear out of the center of the flames.
In either case, there was just one conclusion to be drawn.
Izaya leaned forward atop the steel beam, looking down the length of the pillar beneath him to its base. And there he saw…
“…”
…the figure of Shizuo Heiwajima—clothes, skin, and hair singed here and there—grabbing the base of the steel beam with a look of absolute fury.
Uh-oh!
Izaya tried to leap away to safety, but a larger shaking threw off his momentum. The beams around him bent and twisted as the very foundation of the wall of the building began to crumble.
Shizuo pried the beam he was holding out of the frame of the building and held it the way he normally held streetlights and electric poles when he removed them and swung them around.
As Izaya fell, off-balance, from his previous foothold, he saw the metal beam swinging straight at him.
“Guh…”
Out of either calculation or pure instinct, Izaya instantly twisted, swinging his shoe out to catch the beam.
The next moment, the sole of his shoe made contact with metal—and Izaya’s body was struck toward the starless mound of the sky, a baseball diamond without pitcher or fielders.
Ikebukuro
“…Kinda weird, huh?”
Chikage was on the way toward their transaction point, with Masaomi walking next to him.
“Yeah, sure are a lot of people out and about.”
“Exactly… Doesn’t feel like the hours before dawn.”
They were going to get to the trade-off spot ahead of time and scout it out, to see whether they could learn how many people Mikado intended to bring. Perhaps there was an emergency staircase at a nearby restaurant or other late-night establishment that they could use as a vantage point.
But on the way there, the two noticed that something felt off. Not only did Masaomi, as a resident of Ikebukuro, sense it, but even Chikage, from distant Saitama, could tell that something was wrong.
“I’m getting a bad feeling about it. This crawling on my back? It’s like when the yakuza would get involved with my gang.”
“Don’t scare me like that…,” Masaomi said, cheek twitching, but he didn’t seem particularly afraid. There was one concern on his mind, though: “I just hope that Izumii asshole doesn’t interfere…”
Chikage had put the hurt on them at the parking garage, but they weren’t the type of folks who gave up easily.
“Can’t believe they’re bringing in guys like that…”
“Hey, anyone can join the Dollars, right? I heard there are little grade school kids, too.”
“But even still…”
Masaomi thought back to how Izumii and his gang had nearly brought down the Yellow Scarves from within. It was a galling memory.
“Anyway, better to steer clear of that guy in the shades,” Chikage said cheerily as he glanced around them. “That’s the kind of guy who’ll hurl Molotov cocktails at anyone he decides is an enemy, even in the middle of broad daylight.”
They were still keeping their distance from the shopping district and not approaching the crowds directly. During the day, they might have slipped in among the throng, but they weren’t careless enough to wander over into an abnormal situation.
“Got any ideas as to what this is about? I mean, I’d believe it if you told me there was a World Cup match today or somethin’.”
“I dunno… Do they look weird to you, too? It’s like they’re just wandering back and forth…”
A cold sweat began to trickle down Masaomi’s back. The eeriness of the sight was starting to surpass curiosity into the realm of horror.
Don’t tell me this has the Dollars’ fingerprints on it, too…
I guess all those people there…could be Dollars, perhaps…
But then again…
Masaomi had heard the legend of the Dollars’ first meetup, but this seemed strange even for that.
“Fine, fine. Let’s get inside somewhere, just in case,” Chikage suggested and headed for a nearby door. “As long as we can get onto the roof.”
“We gotta plan it a bit more than that,” Masaomi said, chagrined. He glanced at a different nearby building. “Let’s go to that one. The rooftop has a good view, and it’s easy to get up to.”
“You’ve been on the roof there?”
“I was going all over the place back in the days when we fought with the Blue Squares. My worst adviser, Orihara, seemed to be oddly well-informed about them,” Masaomi said, his face twisting at the bitter memories of the wars in the old days.
Chikage cackled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, listen to you, juvenile delinquent. I guess I can turn a blind eye to your past exploits in this case, then.”
“…Like you aren’t about to engage in trespassing yourself.”
Inside a van
Togusa’s van featured an anime decal all across one side of it, thanks to Yumasaki. Normally, it had the space for four to relax in relative comfort, front seat and back, but now it had twice that population density.
Togusa was in the driver’s seat, while the injured Kadota sat in the passenger seat.
In the middle row were Namie and Mika, with Seiji seated between them, while the back seat contained Yumasaki, Anri, and Saki. If Karisawa were along as she usually was, they’d be over capacity—but she was not in the vehicle.
She’d been out on the streets searching for Kadota when all communication from her had stopped. The rest of the group decided to head toward the Sunshine area of Ikebukuro to find her, where things tended to be busiest.
“I think you girls should have stayed behind,” Kadota said to the two girls in the back seat, conveniently ignoring that he was still injured and had no business being there. “How about if you lie low for a while? I’ll ask Shinra’s mom if she’ll take you in for a bit.”
But Anri shook her head. She looked more fervent than usual. “No…I will go, too. I have to go.”
Kadota saw her eyes through the rearview
mirror and sighed. At first, Anri had been too confused to process the entire situation, but from the moment she learned that Karisawa was in danger, she insisted on coming along.
“Did something happen with you and Karisawa?” he asked.
“She…she helped me in various ways when I was having trouble,” Anri replied, her head drooping just a bit, as she recalled all that had happened in the last few days.
If Karisawa hadn’t been there, then Izaya Orihara’s words alone might have succeeded in destroying Anri’s will. The realization gave her a fresh appreciation for what Karisawa had done for her.
It was why she had made up her mind—to face all the aches related to herself.
When she looked up again, Kadota wore a pensive expression.
“Huh? What’s up, Kadota…?” Togusa asked as he was reaching to turn on the engine. He followed Kadota’s lead and looked into the rearview mirror at Anri. “H-hey, kid! What happened to your eyes?”
The rest of them all turned to look at her. One thing was immediately apparent.
Anri Sonohara’s eyes were glowing red.
The red light shone through the lenses of her glasses, flickering and floating within the van like will-o’-the-wisps. Kadota and Yumasaki had seen Anri fighting with glowing red eyes in the park before. But they’d never been able to confront her about that and hadn’t planned to ask her in the future.
Anri looked at the rest of them with those powerful red eyes and stated, “I think that the slasher in the neighborhood is related to me.”
She steadied her breathing and suppressed her normal hesitant tone of voice to produce something far harder and stronger than anything they’d heard from her before.
“And that’s why…I need to go.”
Commercial building—rooftop
On the spacious roof of a building that contained multiple restaurants and bars within it, Chikage and Masaomi secretly surveyed the city around them to get a better picture of what was happening.
For being the middle of the night, there were just too many people around.
And they were especially clustered in the area they were planning to go next—the block in front of Tokyu Hands. But that spot in particular wasn’t the densest; that honor seemed to go to the block before that, heading to the bowling alley.
“Can’t see that way around the building… Did something happen around Russia Sushi’s area?”
“Something’s fishy about what they’re doing. It’s all mechanical or something, like they’re on a loop… Like a character in the background of a video game level, ya know?” Chikage suggested. But while he seemed nonchalant, Masaomi was unnerved by the sight.
“Shit… What’s going on over there…?”
“Are their eyes red, too?”
“Huh?”
“It’s hard to make out from here… In fact, you can’t really make out the sidewalk from here, because of the highway.”
From their position, the crossing bridge over the Metropolitan Expressway was angled such that it blocked the intersection where Sixtieth Floor Street met Otowa Street.
“If only this building were as tall as the Amlux or Sunshine buildings, we’d have a real clear view of it.” Masaomi groaned, tilting his head sideways to look at the Amlux building across the expressway from Tokyu Hands. But it seemed impossible to sneak onto the roof there, and even if the Sunshine observation decks were open twenty-four hours a day, it would take several times as long to get over to that one.
“Still, it’s an improvement having a better look at Sixtieth Floor Street, ya know?” said Chikage, watching the streets below. But then he spotted something that looked off.
Around the entrance to Tokyu Hands, there was a new group that looked noticeably different from the generic crowds elsewhere. To a person, they wore blue beanies and ski masks, creating a vivid distinction from the rest of the nighttime masses.
When he saw the smaller group of blue, Masaomi clenched the roof’s railing.
“There they are… It’s the Blue Squares.”
Outside of Russia Sushi
“…Some new customers?”
Nasujima noticed the van stopping in front of Tokyu Hands to let out a group of boys wearing eerie shark-pattern ski masks and grinned to himself.
“Don’t mess with them yet. Just control the ones taken over with Saika, got it? I’ll give the command when it’s time. Don’t want to create an opening that the folks in the sushi place will use to escape.”
“…Yes, Mother,” said Haruna, her eyes dull. He rubbed her head and smiled.
“Mikado Ryuugamine, huh? All I remember is that his name stuck out and he was otherwise completely forgettable,” Nasujima said, trying to remember his old student, but because it had been a different class than his own homeroom and Mikado had been a boy, he couldn’t recall the face.
“Anyway. So the boss of the Dollars is a guy without any notable features, eh? Kids these days are crazy.” He chuckled to himself. He looked over the blank-faced Haruna and the terrified Shijima.
“Education’s not what it used to be, is it?” asked the former teacher. Neither Shijima nor Haruna said anything about the irony.
The rooftop of a mixed-use building
“So which one’s Mikado Ryuugamine? See, I’d never forget a girl’s face, but…”
Chikage scanned the area. Masaomi focused on one specific point in the crowd.
“Shit…there are a couple of guys with the same build as Mikado wearing ski masks, so I can’t tell which one might be him…”
Even at a distance, Mikado’s innocent, babyish face would stand out among the Blue Squares. And Masaomi had eyesight good enough to just barely pick him out at this range, despite the darkness.
“I see. So they were trying to avoid their leader getting taken out by an ambush right off the top,” Chikage said. “Or maybe he’s still in the car…but I can’t see it because of the damn expressway!”
“They used cars a lot, so I doubt they’re walking or on bicycles.”
“Dammit, can’t see. Stupid expressway… Why does it have to cost so much?” Chikage complained, which was neither here nor there.
But Masaomi had a different concern. “You know, before we came up here…I saw the big road under the expressway, but it seemed like there were way fewer cars than usual…”
There was no way to confirm that from this angle. The only thing visible was the stream of cars whizzing along the raised expressway, unconcerned with the problems below.
“Lots of people but no cars? Even weirder.”
“Something’s wrong with Ikebukuro today…”
“Well, at least the crowds actin’ weird don’t seem to have nothin’ to do with these guys in blue,” suggested Chikage, who turned his back toward Masaomi. “Well, it’s almost time. I’m gonna go down there. You stay here.”
“H-hey, aren’t you gonna need me?”
“You’re the wild card. The main event. I’m gonna tear their masks off, so you watch from up above and come on down when you see your friend. If he’s not among them, then I’ll make them tell me where to find him, and I’ll call you with the answer.”
The expressway blocked their view of the group, leaving them without even a solid head count of enemies. And yet Chikage spoke as though losing wasn’t even a potential outcome; to him, victory was a given.
Abruptly, Masaomi called out, “Mr. Rokujou!”
“What?”
“Um…thank you.”
“You can thank me later. When you do it at this point in the movies, that’s a sign that I’m gonna die after this,” Chikage said, waving him off with a bitter smile and heading down the stairs. “Plus, you don’t know if you’ll want to thank me for the results yet.”
“Huh?” Masaomi frowned.
Chikage shrugged and said, “I might get so carried away that I wallop your buddy along with the rest of ’em.”
Residential area
Manami Mamiya was an agent of vengeance.
>
She lived to make life miserable for Izaya Orihara in every way possible, you might say.
Her life should have ended in a real-life suicide meetup. But now, there was an engine that kept her alive—her hatred for Izaya, who had insulted and dismissed both her intentions and her despair.
So in a way, you could say that Izaya was the one keeping her alive. Manami knew this herself but didn’t particularly care about it one way or the other.
If she got the chance to see Izaya die a miserable death, his face twisted with horror and gloom, it would all have been worth it. And that conclusion allowed her to do many horrible things without a second thought.
For example, tossing a severed head into the open space in front of Ikebukuro Station in the middle of the day. This announced the existence of Celty Sturluson’s head to the world at large and stole one of Izaya’s advantages.
She hadn’t actually calculated how this would hurt Izaya. She just knew he would hate it, and so she did it.
Now, for the same reasons, she was engaging in a new activity without considering the finer consequences.
“…So this is the next one,” she muttered coldly to herself as she stared up at a small building in a residential area of the city.
It was one of the hideouts of Jinnai Yodogiri, a broker and enemy of Izaya Orihara’s—at least, according to the information recorded on the computer in Izaya’s office. She had stolen a plethora of information from that computer and copied it to a USB stick she kept in her pocket.
Now she was traveling to the various hideouts recorded in that list of information, hoping to hand over Izaya’s data to Yodogiri for free, if she could find him. But though she’d visited over ten of the addresses so far, none of them showed any sign of being occupied.
She even sneaked inside a number of them, but she had nothing to show for it. She knew this was an extremely dangerous thing to do, but she didn’t even care if Yodogiri spotted her and killed her.
As long as an enemy formidable enough that Izaya would be wary of him ended up with Izaya’s data—that was all she wanted. It would be unfortunate not to actually see Izaya suffering for herself, but if she died here, then that was as far as her energy to live got her, nothing more.
Durarara!!, Vol. 13 Page 6