Durarara!!, Vol. 7

by Ryohgo Narita

  As for the “real owner” of the face that featured so heavily in this boy and girl’s love—well, it was not quite as mundane as one might think.

  For the owner of the face was just the face itself.

  It was a woman’s severed head that still lived on today, even after being separated from its body.

  She was not human.

  She was a type of fairy commonly known as a dullahan, found in Scotland and Ireland—a being that visits the homes of those close to death to inform them of their impending mortality.

  The dullahan carried its own severed head under its arm, rode on a two-wheeled carriage called a Coiste Bodhar pulled by a headless horse, and approached the homes of the soon to die. Anyone foolish enough to open the door was drenched with a basin full of blood. Thus the dullahan, like the banshee, made its name as a herald of ill fortune throughout European folklore.

  And the head that this knight carried was none other than the target of Seiji Yagiri’s undying love.

  A year ago, Seiji stole a test subject from the pharmaceutical company that his family ran. That subject was the very symbol of beauty that had been his object of worship from a young age—the dullahan’s head.

  After a series of events, he had to eventually give up the head. Instead, he received the presence of a girl whose face was reconstructed to look just like the dullahan’s: Mika Harima.

  Seiji ended up unable to tell the difference between the two faces—the head he loved and Mika’s after plastic surgery.

  The final blow was a mocking insult that arrived at the moment he realized his own inability to do so.

  “Well, well. Looks like you couldn’t even tell the difference between the real thing and a counterfeit.”

  He couldn’t remember who had said it. Probably someone whom he didn’t know very well. But those words became shackles that ensnared his love and tore it to bits.

  “I mean, if we’re being honest, that just shows you how real your love for that head is. Nice work, pal.”

  Seiji’s love shattered in that moment.

  But he didn’t give up.

  What was broken could be rebuilt.

  So he let Mika stick around, to ensure that he didn’t forget his love for the head—to serve as an admonishment toward himself.

  Mika Harima was nothing but a conduit for Seiji’s love for the head; she was but a terminal.

  So for the sole purpose of confirming that his love was real, Seiji continued to play out a pretend relationship with a woman he did not love.

  Several minutes later, Ikebukuro

  After leaving the theater, the couple decided to wander around the area. They started walking down Sunshine 60 Street toward Tokyu Hands, apparently without a specific destination.

  Thanks to the extended holiday, the neighborhood was even busier than usual.

  The crowds of a Tokyo metropolitan area took on different hues depending on the place. It was rare that they could be summed up and described with a single term, the way people talked about the fashion of Shibuya or the nerds of Akihabara, but even in Shinjuku and Ikebukuro there were distinct flavors to the crowds.

  Seiji and Mika stood out somewhat from the general crowds here, but the excitement of the holiday easily hid what distinguished them.

  “What did you think of the time paradox in Saizou?”

  “Good question. It’s the same thing I thought about the second movie; it didn’t look like the future was changed that much, so what if it wasn’t really the past he went into, but a parallel timeline? One that was close enough for Saizou to learn about his father’s past… That was my takeaway. What did you think, Seiji?”

  “Pretty much what you just said.”

  “Really?! Yay!” Mika giggled.

  Without fanfare, he noted, “When I see stuff with monsters or vampires, I can’t help but think of it,” referring to something highly relevant to the two of them.

  “…You mean the head?”

  “Yeah.”

  Seiji didn’t hesitate to bring up the topic, even out in public like this. He turned to face the girl walking next to him.

  Mika Harima was no simpleminded fool. Seiji understood that.

  His first impression of her personality was that of a stupid stalker who overrode people and never listened to them. But once they started going out, he realized that this was merely one crazy side of her and that she was also very cunning and intelligent.

  Still, there were many mysteries about her.

  Why me?

  He had to wonder.

  Yes, he had saved her and her friend from some thugs about a year ago. But he’d heard that even before that, she’d fallen in love with him at first sight during tests.

  However. However.

  This love at first sight, the gratitude of his help—whatever “fate” she might feel about their connection—were they all really worth risking anything and everything to make good on?

  He had once split Mika’s head open. He had tried to kill her.

  And yet Mika Harima was still madly in love with Seiji Yagiri. She had put irreversible fake scars around her neck (albeit largely through coercion) and went under the knife to replace the face that she’d been given by her parents. She didn’t regret any of this.

  That was why it was so hard for Seiji to understand. If asked whether he could risk his life for love, he would answer yes. But he’d never had a broken arm or been in a situation with fatal consequences. Looking back, he thought the closest he’d ever been might be that moment when he picked a fight with the man in the bartender’s outfit, but he’d been so worked up that he didn’t have time to worry about his safety.

  Could he, for example, continue to uphold his love through terrible torture? He believed he could, but there was no way to know the truth without actually experiencing it.

  But he bet that Mika could probably keep loving him, even through torture. He just had a feeling.

  Why?

  If Seiji was a total narcissist, he might reach the conclusion that he was just that irresistible. Or if he fell in love with her, too, that doubt might never arise. If their relationship was half-hearted, he would grow afraid of her love.

  Yet, to him, she was nothing but a conduit. So when viewed objectively, he was left with nothing but questions.

  What does she see in me?

  Seiji had pondered this question many times.

  But every time his mind wandered down that path, he eventually remembered the real head and told himself that this question wasn’t worth worrying about. Over and over again.

  He got so tired of wondering that he just asked Mika outright. Predictably, she just answered, “Why, because it’s you, of course!”

  Now that they were on closer speaking terms, she would just say, “Because it’s you!” but that didn’t make it any better of an answer.

  And today, after more than a year of the same thing, Seiji once again said, “I know I keep telling you this, but it’s not you who I love.”

  “…I know.”

  “So why do you love me?”

  “Because it’s you, Seiji. I have no other reason.”

  Her answer was the same as always. Seiji sighed and decided to move on to a different subject.

  “Sis has been missing for over a year, too… I’m guessing that she knows where the head is.”

  “…Are you worried about her?”

  “Huh? Why would I be?”

  “I mean, she’s probably on the run from all kinds of people… Maybe she’s in danger,” Mika suggested, surprisingly thoughtful for once.

  Seiji just grimaced and said, “She’s not that helpless. She’s tough—and evil.” He didn’t seem to want to get any further into the topic, as he cracked his neck and looked around them. “Let’s get some lunch.”

  The street was packed with a variety of fast-food options, cafés, and coffee shops, as well as Taiwanese food and ramen down cramped side streets. Seiji patted Mika on top of the head and asked, “Yo
u in the mood for anything?”

  “I’ll eat anything you like, Seiji!”

  This, too, was an utterly typical exchange.

  I feel I read a passage in a book once that said men didn’t like women who were too passive. Not that I really care. I’ll accept the head for whatever personality it has, assuming it can actually talk.

  Anyone else would have found that statement creepy, but Seiji merely followed his gut like always and picked out a direction for the meal.

  “Maybe we should get some sushi for once.”

  They headed for Russia Sushi, right next to the bowling alley.

  Along the way, Seiji’s eyes were drawn to a particular spot.

  “…Hmm?”

  He realized that a familiar face had just passed before his eyes.

  “Ryuugamine. Is that you, Ryuugamine?”

  “Huh?” replied a surprised boy with a youthful face. He glanced at Seiji and Mika and then smiled. “Ohh, Yagiri and Harima. Out on a date?”

  “Yeah… Hey, what happened to your face?”

  Their schoolmate at Raira Academy, Mikado Ryuugamine, was walking through the crowd with bandages and bruises all over his face.

  “Oh, this? Nothing much… Just fell down the stairs at my apartment.” Mikado laughed. Seiji sensed something amiss but judged from the smile on the other boy’s face that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer anyway, so he decided to play along.

  “Yikes. Well…be careful.”

  “Thanks,” Mikado replied, still smiling benignly. “It’s hard to believe that it’s been over a year already, huh?”

  “Hmm? Oh…yeah.”

  Seiji understood what he was referring to. A year ago, an incident had arisen having to do with the head, and Seiji had caused a great deal of trouble for Mikado. Technically, it was his sister who had put Mikado in danger—but Seiji decided to apologize for his part in whatever his past actions had brought about.

  “Listen…I’m sorry about what happened.”

  “Hey, I didn’t do anything. That was the Dollars as a whole.”

  “I see.”

  “And you and Mika are part of the Dollars now, so there’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

  …?

  That was when Seiji recognized what felt off.

  Mikado almost never brings up the topic of the Dollars on his own.

  The Dollars were a street gang that existed in Ikebukuro, repping the mysterious color of “nothing at all.” Seiji knew that the other boy was a member of the gang. And based on the way Mikado acted and the places he found himself after the incident, Seiji knew that he was more than just a rank-and-file member.

  But Seiji had no interest in questioning him and finding out those details. He wanted only to pursue his love. And while he still felt guilty toward the Dollars and Mikado, it didn’t seem like learning those details was going to get him any closer to his desire.

  Since then, they’d simply treated each other like classmates. Yes, there had been that strange hot-pot party at the Headless Rider’s apartment they had both been invited to for some reason, but other than that, they weren’t really friends. Just plain old classmates.

  But even then, or perhaps because of it, Seiji had his misgivings. It was strange that Mikado had suddenly brought up the topic of the Dollars without being asked.

  “Yeah…I can’t forget what happened that night, either,” Mikado said, unprompted. Who was he talking to? By the time Seiji decided that it was probably to Mikado himself, the other boy was already walking off and waving a hand.

  “So long, you two. If you ever need anything, just let me know.”

  “Huh? Uh…yeah, sure,” Seiji replied weakly, taken off guard.

  “Mikado,” Mika said, picking up Seiji’s slack and removing her smile for once.

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t ever make Anri cry, okay?”

  “…”

  “?”

  Mikado fell silent, while Seiji was just confused. The stern look on Mika’s face melted away, and she giggled and waved. “Well, see you at school, then.”

  “Er…right. Later.”

  Mikado smiled gently as he left, and then the couple resumed walking to Russia Sushi.

  “…Did you think he was acting weird?” Seiji asked casually.

  Mika nodded without batting an eye. “Yeah. He didn’t seem like the usual Ryuugamine.”

  “And his face was all messed up. Wonder what happened,” Seiji added, turning back to look in Mikado’s direction.

  Mika took him by the hand and started pulling him toward the sushi place. “Well, it’s nothing we need to worry ourselves with! Shall we go?”

  “Huh…? Oh, yeah, sure.”

  If anything weird happens, I guess I can ask him about it at school, Seiji decided and followed Mika away from Sunshine 60 Street.

  But there was just a whiff of strangeness about the activeness with which Mika was leading the way, too.

  From the shadows, a lone woman watched the couple.

  “…Seiji…”

  Namie gazed at her little brother’s back with an expression of ecstasy in her eyes. She was so relieved to see him looking hale and hearty that her body was undergoing a mild episode of intoxication.

  Oh my God… How can he be so cute? And I’m only looking at his backside!

  It wasn’t an act; Namie really did feel dazzled by the sight of her brother’s back. As a matter of fact, there were at least ten other young men of about the same age and with a similar hairstyle as Seiji in the vicinity—but within a single second of arriving, tipped off by the twins’ report, Namie had correctly identified Seiji from the crowd.

  Unfortunately, that also meant spotting the girl walking with him.

  “…Mika…Harima…,” she murmured, biting the inside of her cheeks. She used enough force to pierce the flesh just a bit, flooding her mouth with the tang of blood.

  Namie narrowed her eyes, tasting the iron on her tongue.

  This…is the taste of that little cat burglar’s blood…

  She was imagining the sensation of leaping out and biting Mika on the neck until her head ripped loose. Biting her own cheek was merely a way to make the illusion more real.

  Namie trailed the couple, driven by an insane love for her brother and furious hatred at her romantic rival.

  “Hey, pretty lady! You doin’ anything right—?”

  In the last several minutes, several men had tried to talk to her, either trying to pick her up or scout her for some modeling job or other.

  “…Get lost.”

  In each case, Namie’s expression froze, and she turned her lethal gaze on them with frosty precision. A man might react with hostility when treated with derision or annoyance, but Namie simply gave them a mechanical, truthful message of “You’re not wanted here,” without emotion.

  In each case, the men instinctually understood. She was a woman who could kill out of habit, out of practicality, without even wanting to—and they were the only candidates in target range.

  “…Whoops, coming through!”

  Fortunately for these men, they were practiced enough to sense when a woman was trouble and could withdraw instantly to look for safer prey.

  The process repeated several times as Namie tracked her brother and the girl, until she saw them go through the entrance of Russia Sushi—at which point she turned on her heel and strode back through the crowds down Sunshine 60 Street.

  Meanwhile, her eyes burned with the flames of cold madness and lust as hot and sticky as magma.

  Russia Sushi

  “Here, you get crab sushi. Eat raw, eat boiled, eat cooked. People good, town good, flavor good. Crab makes world go round.”

  “I think you mean ‘cash.’”

  “Not good for young person to talk about cash, cash, cash. You get cashed out. But if crab goes round, cash goes round. You trade my crab with your boss’s cash. Round and round, merry-go-round. Russian crab and Japanese cash exchange. Revolving s
ushi. Good deal all around.”

  “…”

  Seiji lifted the boiled crab nigiri to his mouth and shook his head.

  Russia Sushi was famous for sticking out, even in Ikebukuro. It featured a traditional Japanese interior that clashed with Russian decor and was run by a white chef and a black waiter.

  Seiji had been here with Mika several times now and was a loose acquaintance of the staff, but today was different.

  “Who’s that, Simon?”

  There was an unfamiliar young white woman among them, dressed in a traditional Japanese uniform, like Simon. The combination was somehow mildly erotic, because even to Japanese sensibilities, her looks were undeniably attractive.

  Yet there was an unpleasant pout on that pretty face, and she simply stood inactive in the corner of the restaurant. She stared into space with murder in her eyes, ensuring that no customer would have the courage to approach her.

  “Oh, young master Yagiri, you like her? Her name Vorona. You take her to go, A-OK. Then you have girlfriend and mistress, one in each hand. Best to eat with those you love, makes everything taste good. Plus ten orders of sushi,” Simon joked, but the woman was not amused.

  “…Negative. I am under no obligation to sell my own flesh for the profit of the company. I request a boycott. But if your words are meant in the spirit of contract job, I confirm.”

  “Ohh, this is famous Japanese sexual harassment trial. Sexual harassment bad, no sekuhara. If you do sekuhara, then you do hara-kiri. And after cutting stomach, sushi all fall through hole. Our business go up in flames,” Simon lamented as he returned to the kitchen.

  Seiji continued to stare at the woman he called Vorona, until Mika tugged on his bicep, her cheeks puffed in comical anger.

  “Stop that, Seiji. You’re not supposed to look at other women!”

  “Huh? Oh yeah,” he said, but something weighed on his mind.

  That’s strange. Usually, she wouldn’t care; she’d just say, “I’m not worried, because I’m hotter than her, anyway!”