Durarara!!, Vol. 7

by Ryohgo Narita

  “I need…to reassess my opinion.”

  She reached down to her waist belt, running her fingers over an object attached to it. Then she pulled it loose from its case, revealing an eerie silhouette to Mika.

  “Before, I just assumed you were a pesky nuisance…but from now on, I’ve upgraded you to the level of rival.”

  In Namie’s hand was an aged medical saw, its blade rusted here and there.

  She took a crisp step forward and, like flowing water, accelerated toward Mika.

  With the tool in hand as her weapon and her twisted love for her brother her source of energy, Namie Yagiri turned into a hunter, closing in on her prey of Mika Harima.

  “But in either case…what I do to you will be the same.”

  A few dozen minutes earlier, on a cell phone call

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Dr. Kishitani? It’s been a while.”

  “Oh? Ohh, ohh! It has been a while! You’re still alive—should I be congratulating you on that?”

  “…We can skip the pleasantries. I’d like to schedule an emergency surgery—can you come to Yagiri Warehouse Three? It’s easy to get in there still because Nebula hasn’t started clearing it out yet.”

  “Goodness me, has someone shot you? You certainly sound well enough over the phone.”

  “…Actually, I’d like to request the same operation as last year. I want you to re-create a woman’s face. It’s the same girl as the last time, so it should be familiar enough, I believe?”

  “Uhh…I’m not going to ask about the circumstances. Is tomorrow night all right?”

  “You can’t do it now?”

  “I’m afraid I’m off duty today. I’m not in Tokyo at the moment.”

  “Ah…that’s too bad. She was unlucky.”

  “…She was?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you don’t show up, I’ll be forced to carve up her face myself…and I’m guessing it will be quite painful to her.”

  “And I suppose the humane thing for me to do is stop you?”

  “It’s too late for you to do anything now, Doctor. But you were never the type to be concerned with things like this, were you?”

  “Well, in this case, that girl happens to be Celty’s cooking teacher.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. If my intent was just killing her, I wouldn’t bother to call you.”

  Namie ended the call there but continued speaking into the dead receiver.

  “However, on your express request…I can make sure her tongue and right hand still work.”

  Present moment, warehouse interior

  “Knock it off and play nice… I was planning to leave your tongue and right hand functional…but if you keep darting and sneaking around, I can’t even guarantee that.”

  The piles of wooden crates and cardboard created a simple maze in the warehouse, like miniature stacks of shipping containers on a dock. Namie prowled among them with her bone saw, taunting and threatening.

  “I’m an amateur at plastic surgery, you know.”

  They’d been playing tag for nearly ten minutes already.

  Namie was on the prowl, reveling in her hunt like a monster.

  After Mika just barely managed to block the first attack with her trowel, she knocked Namie over and escaped into the warehouse. Amid the gloom of the mazelike interior, lit only by the outside light coming through the open hallway, Mika’s voice echoed, “I’m surprised! I would have assumed you were just coming to kill me!”

  “If that were the case, I would have just piped in poison gas the moment you entered the building.”

  The queen of envy strode boldly, steadily, like the guardian of the labyrinth. In addition to the case for the saw, she had a number of other waist pouches equipped on her belt.

  “I don’t want you to disappear; I want you to regret trying to steal Seiji from me. Plus, if you go missing…Seiji might take it upon himself to search for you, won’t he? He’s kindhearted enough to do that… I don’t want him to waste his time like that, but I also don’t want to show him your dead body, if I can avoid it,” Namie said, trembling slightly as she envisioned her brother’s face. “He’s just such a good boy… You can easily imagine him racked with grief over your death, even if you were just a stopgap solution. And I wouldn’t want you to confuse that emotion with love.”

  “Ah-ha-ha-ha! Well, at least we agree that Seiji’s full of kindness!”

  “Don’t you dare…use his name so casually,” Namie menaced, her voice’s pitch suddenly lowering. She twisted and swung into a reverse roundhouse kick, aimed at a cardboard box on a steel shelf. The movement was as precise and deadly as a metal-cutting machine.

  The box shot off the other side of the shelf.

  There came a short, sharp gasp from close beyond.

  Damn, I missed.

  Namie wasn’t a master of any particular martial arts, nor did she have the brute strength of a fellow like Shizuo Heiwajima. But she had been trained in self-defense methods since a young age—and when her emotions got the best of her, she could employ her body’s full potential to deliver lethal blows like this one.

  As a matter of fact, she could have easily broken her leg. She’d be feeling the damage in her muscles and joints tomorrow.

  But all that aside, Namie was not the type of fool to let her momentary opportunity escape.

  She instantly launched herself off the floor and through the box-sized hole she had just created. It was not the superhuman movement of a gymnast or of a daring thief limboing through laser security, nor was it the sort of thing that an ordinary human would ever do without some amount of hesitation or preparation.

  Namie could easily have significantly hurt herself in the attempt, but she was fearless, sliding across the long shelf and popping up to peer around the spot where she’d knocked off the cardboard box.

  She’s not here?!

  But she had heard the gasp come from right around this area. It was only seconds ago.

  She glanced down both sides of the makeshift hallway bounded by standing shelves of materials but found nothing.

  Where…?

  Her ears, laser focused by the tension of the scene, picked up the sound of something shifting, scraping. Not from the left, right, front, or rear—but above.

  “…!”

  She looked up and tried to leap out of the way, but it was too late.

  “Hi-yah!”

  Mika, who had held her breath and climbed the shelving after that kick to the cardboard box, leaped onto Namie from above.

  “Hi-yah”? Who are you acting cute for, you little bi—?

  “Ah!” Namie gasped as she was slammed to the floor. Mika was sitting atop her chest, practically straddling her. The skin of her thighs beneath the skirt pressed against the swell of Namie’s breasts, soft flesh against soft flesh.

  It would make for an erotic pose—if it weren’t for the hand shovel held menacingly against Namie’s throat.

  “Don’t move now ,” the girl said impishly, staring down at the demon woman. She prodded her throat with the tip of the trowel.

  Namie’s chest rose as she inhaled, rubbing against Mika’s thighs through her shirt. The girl on top grimaced and noted, “You’re hiding more under those clothes than I thought, Sister-in-law. Ha-ha!”

  But her eyes were not laughing. Or rather, they were—but with a tinge of madness that was a far cry from ordinary good humor.

  “So, how about it? Are you going…to tell me…where to find the head?”

  Bit by bit, the end of the spade prodded harder into Namie’s throat. Despite being in danger of losing her life, her first instinct was to offer praise: “I’m…impressed. I didn’t think you were physically capable of this.”

  “Let’s just say I’ve had experience climbing up apartment building walls and over fences.”

  “Now you’re just bragging about your criminal record. Why don’t you save your stories for a blog? Then you can get flamed, tell Sei
ji you’re leaving him, and kill yourself,” Namie spat mockingly.

  Mika merely put more weight on the blade. Bit by bit, bit by bit. But suddenly, the pressure stopped, and the shovel fell out of her hands.

  “Wha…? H-huh…?”

  The tool rolled off Namie’s throat to clatter against the floor of the warehouse.

  “Why…can’t I…squeeze…?”

  “About time it started working,” Namie grumbled. She held her left hand up so Mika could see. It was holding an object, likely taken from one of the pouches on her belt, just like the rusty saw.

  “It’s a painless injector I bought from Nebula a while ago. You didn’t feel a needle, did you? Maybe more like…being grabbed by fingers trying to pry your leg away?” she taunted, tossing the injector onto the floor.

  Powerless to stop itself, Mika’s body toppled and rolled to the left, allowing the other woman to switch places with her.

  “That’s an old muscle relaxer I cooked up years ago. Don’t worry—it won’t kill you,” Namie said, taking a seated position over Mika’s waist so she could stare down at the girl. “What a horrid, hateful face you have. That doctor did good work,” she murmured, stroking Mika’s cheek.

  “Ah…”

  “Now, out of curiosity…how far have you and Seiji gotten?” Namie asked suddenly. It was the kind of question a close girlfriend would ask another teen. Only in this case, there was no curious, excited grin on her face—there was no smile at all.

  “Please…don’t make me say it out loud,” Mika said in embarrassment.

  “Have you…kissed yet?”

  “…”

  Mika merely looked back at Namie and then averted her eyes again.

  “…So you have,” the older woman said, taking the girl’s response as confirmation.

  “S-so…so what if I— Mmph?”

  Namie leaned closer and covered Mika’s mouth with her own.

  “Mm! Mmm?!”

  Mika tried to struggle, to flop her limbs around, but her body wouldn’t take orders. After several seconds that felt like an eternity, Namie slowly pulled back. Her eyes were cold, full of hatred and disgust.

  “I cannot stand the thought…that your face still bears the sensation of kissing Seiji. I feel sick doing this with another girl, but focusing on the fact that I’m indirectly kissing him almost puts me in a trance…”

  Namie’s mouth curled into a mocking smile, triumphant now that she had paralyzed her opponent. Then it took on a crueler note, and she pulled a bottle of medicine from another pouch.

  “You know, I could have just carved it off with the bone saw,” she said, holding up the unlabeled brown bottle, “but instead, I think I’ll use this fast-acting solution designed to melt human skin off without being fatal. It’s not my own formula, but it’s just so hard to work with sulfuric acid without killing the patient, you know?”

  “…”

  “Whoever made this sure was a sicko…but it seems like the perfect medicine for your problem, no?”

  There was no bluff, no threat in Namie’s eyes—only truth.

  Mika instinctually understood that the woman was about to obliterate her face. But without being able to control her body, there was very little she could do to protect herself.

  “Go on—cower in fear. I want to see that face of yours twist and contort with terror,” Namie taunted, holding the bottle over the girl’s head. But Mika did not scream or beg for mercy.

  Namie sighed and went for the bottle’s lid. “Do you have any last words while you’ve still got that face?”

  Was that question meant to be an act of mercy or merely a demonstration of her superior position in the situation?

  In either case, that question succeeded in drawing a macabre answer out of Mika Harima.

  “Ephemeral and fleeting are words applied…to the vicissitudes of life. The rise and inevitable fall of all things.”

  “…Huh?” Namie squawked, pausing in surprise.

  Mika smiled lazily up at her, so easygoing that it might have been the effect of the muscle relaxant, and it was in that tone of voice that she continued, “When we first…came into this building…you asked if I knew the meaning…of the word ephemeral. Well…I do know it. I know…a whole lot of things…”

  “…And? Is that your final statement?”

  It was just empty bravado. One last act of futile defiance.

  Namie knew it was so. She wanted to believe it was.

  She wanted to believe that the rising foreboding within her was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

  It took only seconds for Mika to shatter this futile hope.

  “Kanra…is Izaya Orihara.”

  Huh?

  For a moment, Namie couldn’t process what she’d just heard.

  Kanra was the username that her employer Izaya used to interact with a specific chat room online.

  Why would she mention…?

  Then she paused.

  Wait…how does this little bitch know Izaya’s username in the first place? And has she ever…even met Izaya…?

  “Tarou…is Ryuugamine.”

  “…”

  “Setton…is Celty. Saika is Anri. Bacura is Kida. Mai and Kuru are Izaya Orihara’s sisters, Mairu and Kururi.”

  This time, an undeniable chill ran through Namie’s body.

  Mika continued, her smile beatific, “And the username that both Izaya Orihara and you use when manipulating people…is Nakura.”

  “Wait…”

  “Ryuugamine is the founder of the Dollars… Anri is possessed by a demon blade named Saika… Kida is the leader of the Yellow Scarves. But I suspect that none of the three is aware of the others’ secrets.”

  Namie wanted to stop her, but now her body wasn’t reacting. Was it instinct? Curiosity? Or just plain fear?

  “The people who tried to hurt Anri yesterday and the day before…are a pair of Russians…Vorona and Slon…which mean ‘crow’ and ‘elephant,’ respectively. Izaya Orihara…hired them…”

  How does she know this? Namie wondered. This creeping question eventually made every muscle of her body tense. How much does she know?

  “Slon’s connection to Izaya Orihara…is deeper than Vorona’s. So Izaya heard about the Awakusu-kai’s contract for Slon through him…and tried to entrap Shizuo Heiwajima. Someone stabbed him last night…and now he’s in the hospital.”

  “…!”

  Every single sentence was a definitive blow.

  The last one was something Namie herself had only learned this morning—but none of it should have been in Mika’s personal range of information.

  “How…do you know these things?”

  “Don’t be silly… It’s the same way…as always. Do you know…how cheap…and incredibly small bugs can get…nowadays? So I’ve…been placing them around…all the people who are likely…to get involved with Seiji. And I know a few things…about hacking…”

  “…!”

  “Izaya Orihara was the only one…who found the bug right away…but as long as whomever he talks to on the phone is bugged…I can still hear from him… Shall I reveal some things that don’t involve you? Like last night, Mikado took a ballpoint pen, and…”

  “Enough. Be quiet.”

  Planting bugs…? That can’t be, Namie thought. She was frozen in place.

  “What do you think…? I know lots of other things…such as the fact that you and Izaya…are also connected to the Asuki-gumi…”

  “This…this can’t be… You’ve never shown any sign of this before… In fact, if you always knew all the things you just said…you could have stopped them from happening!”

  “Huh…?”

  “The stuff with your friends! When that idiot Izaya led your friend on and screwed everything up…if you knew all about that—in fact, if you knew about Saika!—then you could have helped avert all that disaster! That ugly business! Before Masaomi Kida got hospitalized!”

  “…”

  Mika loo
ked just a little bit sad. “Anri doesn’t know…that I know,” she said. “I don’t think she’s aware that I’ve been brushing up on her and Ryuugamine…the same way that I planted a bug in Seiji’s room.”

  “But…that shouldn’t matter…”

  “If I told her that I knew everything…and helped her directly…that would mean getting personally involved in all that mess. It would be one thing if that was just me. I don’t care about Anri and Ryuugamine being disgusted with me or getting arrested. But…”

  She closed her eyes. That brief pause was all Namie needed to understand what she meant. Sure enough, the answer was as expected.

  “If Seiji learned about Ryuugamine’s secret circumstances, he might claim he owed that boy a favor and get involved with it… He mustn’t know. Seiji might seem brusque and aloof at first…but at heart, he’s extremely kind. Just like the time he saved me and Anri from those thugs…”

  “…”

  “So…I decided to learn and learn and learn and learn and learn and learn and learn about everything, even the people around him. So that I could make sure Seiji doesn’t get involved in any of the danger they pose…”

  Mika fell silent. Namie said nothing for a while, too. Silence fell upon the warehouse, as if time had frozen.

  But…

  “…I understand how you feel. And I understand now that you are far more capable than I ever gave you credit for…and far more abnormal,” Namie murmured, unstopping the glass bottle.

  Mika glanced at it, smiled, and then thought, I wonder, if I blow really hard when she tips over the bottle, will some of the liquid splash back on her? That way I can take her down with me… Actually, never mind. Seiji would be sad if a family member was terribly hurt.

  Meanwhile, Namie slowly twisted the cap on the bottle. She had no idea what selfless thoughts were running through Mika’s mind, but even if she did, it wouldn’t have stopped her hand.

  And yet, just at the moment that the glass bottle was about to open, Namie did stop. Not of her own will—but because a very familiar hand suddenly reached in to grab her by the wrist.