Durarara!!, Vol. 10

by Ryohgo Narita

  The ruckus centered on Namie and Celty roared in his ears. On a much lower, deeper part of his mind, something in his own consciousness went razor-sharp.

  The only thing left is to seize the opportunity, all of us here together…

  We’ll find whoever’s laughing with this situation in the palm of their hand—and dig our nails into their flesh.

  …Oh yes, we will.

  Tokyo

  Whether it was the opportunity Shinra sought was unclear.

  But it was true that somewhere beyond his understanding, a number of uncertain variables were writhing away.

  “So we still don’t know who ran over this Kyouhei kid, huh?” said a large man sitting on a luxury sofa to the man standing at the entrance of the room.

  “Yes, sir. I don’t know how the police view it, but the word on the street is that the Dragon Zombies might have done it. There’s no evidence to back it up, though,” said the other man. Going by appearances, he was the least likely to speak in a formal setting—Ran Izumii.

  Contrary to his ordinary hunchbacked posture, he was now straight-backed, listening closely to the man on the couch.

  “Shiki thinks that Slon guy is gonna be an adequate shackle on Izaya…but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. You got that, Izumii? Not that I’m expectin’ much from you, either.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I dunno what that info broker and your brother think they’re up to, but I smell some nice solid business comin’ off the Dollars. However it plays out, the Awakusu-kai will get what it wants.”

  The heavyset man, Aozaki, rumbled with laughter, his armor of flesh shifting and shaking.

  “No goddamn way am I lettin’ Akabayashi have something this profitable.”

  Half a day earlier, late night, police station, interrogation room

  “I’m telling you, I don’t know that chick,” said a man in a bartender uniform. The suit-wearing detective slammed the table, just like on the TV shows.

  “Lies! Three days ago in the afternoon, you crushed this woman’s hands. Admit it!”

  “Why would I do something like that?”

  I guess the shows were wrong. They don’t actually have a lamp on the table in here, Shizuo thought, doing his best to distract himself. He was playing cool as a means of minimizing his irritation, but he could tell that he was close to bubbling over on the inside.

  “It’s one of those, uh, false accusation things. You should really take a closer look at that woman who’s accusing me,” Shizuo repeated. It was all he’d been saying. He knew he should use the legal term false accusation because the president at his current work company had taught it to him after Izaya had framed him before.

  The detective put on a disgusted grimace. “A thug like you, callin’ for false accusation? You think tryin’ to play savvy here is gonna keep your ruse from gettin’ exposed? Huh?”

  Ordinarily, this kind of mockery would have Shizuo exploding with fury, but right before the cops had taken him, his boss said, “I’ll get you a lawyer by tomorrow, so don’t blow up before then.” Tom had also advised him, “If you tear up a police station, that blowback is gonna hit your famous brother, too. If you start to feel like you’re gonna snap, think of him.” It was just enough of an incentive that Shizuo was able to keep his fury stored in the pit of his stomach instead.

  But the police questioning had been oddly unnatural. It would be one thing if they outright treated him like a criminal, but it was almost like they were trying to make him mad, instead. They hurled insults at him that had nothing to do with his charges and sometimes just abandoned him for an hour or more. It was as if they were holding him here in the station until they could successfully get him to commit some other crime they could actually arrest him for.

  And while the detectives were threatening Shizuo with a trip to a holding cell, that didn’t make much sense, either. He hadn’t been arrested. He was accompanying them voluntarily for questioning. Why were they talking about putting him in a cell?

  He’d heard about cases of train gropings, where in the process of escorting a suspect from the train station to the police, at some point it officially became “an arrest on the scene by the transit employee, later turned over to the police.” Wondering if this was a similar setup, Shizuo continued focusing on his brother, Kasuka, to keep his cool.

  They showed him a picture of his accuser, but he had absolutely no recollection of the woman. She had a pretty face, if a bit heavy on the makeup. According to the police’s accusation, he took her to a bar that had gone out of business and broken both her hands in the act of assaulting her. But at the time that it’d supposedly happened, he was already home and in bed—he just didn’t have anyone to prove his alibi because he lived alone.

  After they’d gone in circles long enough, the detective changed tactics and tone of voice. “I hear your brother’s a celebrity, huh?”

  “…Leave Kasuka out of this,” Shizuo said, narrowing his eyes as he felt a vein throb on his temple.

  “Fair enough, this has nothing to do with him. But don’t you hear a lot of stories these days about celebrities getting caught with drugs?”

  “What?”

  “It just makes me wonder—if you deny doing anything and we go and search your brother’s home, would we find any little packets of white powder?”

  “…”

  Something crackled and snapped inside of Shizuo. But at the same time, an alien sensation sneaked over him, holding his rage at bay. This was a taunt so direct, so ballsy, that it actually made him calmer.

  This is almost getting funny. Something’s going on if they’re trying this hard to get me.

  “…Why? What did I do to make you guys hate me so much?”

  Maybe when he got arrested a few years ago, the vending machine that Shizuo had thrown at the cop car had hurt this guy. On the other hand, you heard stories about disgraced cops in the news these days. Wasn’t he afraid of that attention? Or were they always this dirty, all the time?

  The detective in the suit leaned in close to Shizuo and muttered, “I’ve got nothing against you. I just need to make sure you don’t walk around Ikebukuro for a while.”

  “…?!”

  What the hell?! Is that fleabrain paying this guy off?!

  The thought of his least favorite person in the world caused Shizuo to glare at the cop.

  “…Hmm?”

  And then he noticed. The man’s eyes were bloodshot—just enough to be suspicious.

  And Shizuo had plenty of experience looking at eyes like that.

  He tore his gaze away, watching the other officer who was taking notes on the interview—and saw the same effect in that man’s eyes, too.

  “Are you all…under that one sword’s effect…?”

  “What’s this? You already knew?” The detective and officer grinned. “Technically, we have a different parent, though.”

  “?”

  “The point is, it doesn’t matter what you say. If you don’t admit your crime, me and that guy there can beat the shit out of each other and claim you did it.”

  The two policemen wore wicked, knowing smiles.

  But so did Shizuo.

  “I see… So it’s cool, then,” he said.

  “What?”

  “When I was a kid, I had a lot of experience with the guy who ran Juvenile Division…and even after he retired, I’ve always had a measure of respect that I showed the cops…”

  The desk that Shizuo’s hands were resting on suddenly creaked, as though bending.

  “But knowing it’s not the police in here, but you guys, means I don’t hafta hold back…any longer!”

  The next moment, a powerful shock ran through the interrogation room.

  But it wasn’t the sound of Shizuo throwing the desk or punching the investigator.

  It was the sound of the door being kicked open. Another man walked into the room.

  “Pardon the interruption.”

  His dress wa
s wildly inappropriate for the location. The man was wearing full traffic mobile force garb—in short, he was a motorcycle cop.

  “H-hey! What the hell is this, huh? What’s Traffic doing barging into one of our—,” demanded the detective, but the motorcycle cop shoved him aside and leaned closer to the stunned suspect.

  “Hey, I hear you’re friends with that Headless Rider, yeah?”

  “…And what if I am?” Shizuo replied, wide-eyed.

  The motorcycle cop growled. “The next time you see that thing, tell it, ‘I don’t care if you don’t mind, do the other cars a favor and turn your light on.’ I can catch the rider and hassle ’em about the plates and license, but I want you to pass that message on first.”

  “…”

  “That’s all I wanted to say. So long.”

  The conversation was so one-sided that Shizuo didn’t even have the time to get angry about it. The interrogators glanced at each other. One of them turned bloodshot eyes onto the traffic cop to demand what he was doing there.

  But then there was a second deafening eruption. As the investigator had approached, the officer grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall of the interrogation room, like a pro wrestler throwing a lariat.

  “Guh…hrk…”

  The traffic officer had him pinned against the surface, dangling from his right hand. He glared at the helpless man through his sunglasses.

  “…Don’t pull this stupid bullshit.” He hurled the investigator to the floor and turned to leave. “If you try anything like what I heard from outside the room, well…I hate to pull on personal connections, but I know a guy in Internal Affairs who can come pay a visit to you two.”

  “Ugh…”

  Whether out of guilt or fright at the mention of IA, the interrogators said nothing more to the traffic cop and watched him go with clenched jaws. Shizuo had to chuckle to himself.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “There you go. There are still upright cops around here. That was a close one—I almost assumed the entire police force was like you,” Shizuo said, sighing with true relief. He glared at them with renewed purpose. “You oughta thank that motorcycle cop.”

  “Why…?”

  “Thanks to him, you get to live to see another day.”

  But behind the bold words, Shizuo himself was grateful. The events within the interrogation room gave him the impression that the entire police force was his enemy, but there were still officers worthy of trust. That knowledge by itself gave Shizuo the motivation to continue his lonely fight against uncontrollable rage.

  “So…let’s pick up where we left off. I’m havin’ fun. I’ll take whatever you can dish out.”

  That was how Shizuo’s true battle began—the fight against his own anger.

  How long could he withstand the urges rising within him? He was prepared for a long and lonely battle, his own personal hell, a challenge the opposite of what he’d experienced when fighting Saika.

  “I wanna get out of here unscathed…and go to visit this parent of yours, so I can pay my respects, you see?”

  Raira General Hospital, daytime

  Twelve hours after Shizuo Heiwajima and Kinnosuke Kuzuhara came face-to-face, and at the same time that Celty Sturluson was talking alone with Mikado Ryuugamine, Anri Sonohara was visiting Kadota’s hospital for the third consecutive day.

  The first and second days, she was sincerely concerned for Kadota and didn’t have anything else to do with her time, but today, she had a reason to come see Karisawa.

  “Ugh, he totally doesn’t know where we’re supposed to meet up!”

  “Why isn’t he here yet? Real talk, this guy is hashtag flaking.”

  “Quiet in the hospital, please.”

  “Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

  When Anri reached the hospital, there was a gaggle of young women with various looks and personalities waiting at the entrance. They seemed to be waiting for a friend. Anri felt a bit jealous, seeing all these girls around her age, chatting away.

  In the past, the only person I ever felt like this about was Harima.

  With all the things that had happened since she started high school, she could tell she was changing in some ways. This knowledge was the reason Anri continued telling herself she needed to be stronger.

  It was really hard for her to see friends having fun talking like this, when she was so preoccupied with how to coexist with Saika. Maybe she’d been close to having that for herself at one point, and now it was slipping away from her grasp.

  Mika Harima wasn’t close to her anymore because of her relationship with Seiji Yagiri, Masaomi went missing, and even Mikado seemed to be distant these days. The only thing to keep Anri company was the shrieking of Saika.

  “I’ll cut them! I’ll cut every last little thing!”

  “I’ll do the loving instead!”

  “I’ll love your beloved friends for you!”

  The voices were even louder than usual today. And she knew why.

  Haruna Niekawa.

  The girl she had cut was within the Dollars.

  What was her mental state now?

  Why did she join the Dollars?

  Was she still in love with that teacher?

  What if she surpassed Saika’s control again and was trying to take over the group?

  What if Haruna had already cut Mikado?

  So I’ll cut him first! Mikado belongs only to me!

  “?!”

  For the first time in ages, Anri was actually surprised by Saika’s voice. It had almost felt like her own internal voice speaking.

  This cannot last.

  She’d been thinking it over since last night, and her ultimate conclusion was that trying to solve everything on her own was just making the pain worse. But she had few people to discuss her problems with; Celty was quite busy, and she still couldn’t get in touch with Mika.

  So she came to a decision.

  “Ooh, Anri, you came again today! Hang on, are you sure you’re not in love with Dotachin? Mikado’s gonna cry his eyes out!” said an older girl standing outside the entrance to the hospital. Her voice was as loud and cheerful as anyone’s, despite her pain. “He’s been proceeding well since the operation. They say Dotachin might even open his eyes soon.”

  “I see…”

  Anri decided she would reveal everything to her in the hopes of receiving some advice. It was unfair of her to unload her own troubles when they were here to support Kadota in his time of need, but there was no way she could stop herself now.

  “I’m sorry, Karisawa.”

  “Huh? What for? Why ya apologizing?”

  “I know it’s a bad time, with Kadota and everything…but there’s something I was really hoping I could get off my chest to you…”

  “Aw, geez. You shouldn’t worry about that. C’mon, come and leap into Big Sister’s arms!” Karisawa cried, puffing out her chest.

  Whether she was in a good mood with Kadota’s news or was just making a show of acting tough, Anri was buoyed by her response, and so she expressed herself as honestly as she felt.

  “Karisawa…I want you to know everything about me.”

  Unfortunately, her choice of phrasing could have been better.

  “………What?! No way, is this a yuri confession?! Listen, I’m more than happy to play for either team, if you know what I mean, but—but—but what does this mean? Are we in some forbidden love rectangle with Mikado and Kida?! Then again, if you and I hook up, then maybe Mikado and Kida will, too, which solves the whole situation, right…?”

  As a fangirl fujoshi, Karisawa was used to suggesting pairings like these, and Yumasaki and Kadota weren’t around to stop her today. Poor Anri had no idea what she was talking about at first, but as understanding settled in, her face went bright red.

  “N-n-no! It’s nothing like that!”

  “Aw. Darn.”

  Anri was about to ask what she meant about that, tears welling up in her eyes with mortification, except that
an overly familiar male voice suddenly cut in, drawing their attention.

  “Ohhh, there you are! Hey, it’s been a while, you two!”

  They turned to see the owner of the voice, who was now surrounded by the girls who’d been waiting at the entrance to the hospital grounds.

  “Listen, I heard about what happened to Kadota, and I wanted to pay him a visit. You know where his room is? I forgot his given name, so they got suspicious up at the desk.”

  “Uhhh…”

  Anri felt like she recognized the man from somewhere, but she couldn’t pin it down.

  “Uh-oh, did you forget about me? Man, that kinda hurts. But I did have my face beat to crap at the time, with mummy bandages wrapped all over it. In fact, I’d prefer if you forgot all about that. Shall we begin our fateful first encounter all over again?” the man blabbered. The girls surrounding him started to beat on him with their fists without a word. “Ow, ow, ow! Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop trying to pick them up!”

  He faced Anri and Karisawa again, more serious this time, and continued, “So, uh, let’s see, the girl with the glasses was the one katana catfighting with the helmet-wearing lady, right? And the other girl with you is Kadota’s friend, right?”

  This description was enough to jog Anri’s memory.

  The man was wearing multiple thin layers, and he had a straw hat on his head. It was like he had just popped right out of a photo shoot for a men’s casual fashion magazine.

  “Oh, right, you’re—,” Karisawa started to say, but the man interrupted her with a click of his fingers and his own introduction.

  “Chikage Rokujou, at your service! Any girls are free to call me Rocchi as a nickname!”

  Chikage Rokujou.

  The leader of Toramaru, a motorcycle gang based in Saitama.

  As well as the man who, without meaning to, utterly crushed Mikado’s dreams once before.