Durarara!!, Vol. 6

by Ryohgo Narita

  Pitch-black riding suit and full-faced helmet.

  The crowds enjoying their holiday couldn’t help but stare at Celty in her rather suspicious outfit.

  But perhaps due to the sheer number of people blocking lines of sight, many others were coming and going without noticing the striking figure in their midst. If you wanted to cause a stampede with this larger crowd, you’d either need an ultra-famous singer to appear with musical accompaniment or to send a full-grown lion into their midst.

  Still, a few of them noticed the infamous Black Rider among them and pulled out phones to snap pictures, except that Celty stealthily extended tendrils of shadow to cover the lenses and protect herself from photography.

  Normally, she wouldn’t care, but being caught together with Mikado and Anri would make her feel guilty.

  So she rushed up to Anri, taking pains to protect her acquaintances, and…

  …Is she…in trouble?

  There were four gentlemen of a certain professional aspect present, watching her warily. One of them bowed to her.

  “Hello there.”

  Huh?! W-wait…have I met these people before…?

  “Did you get word from Dr. Kishitani or Shiki, too, Celty?”

  “Perfect timing. Can you help us escort her safely?”

  Oh, of course! They’re Awakusu-kai…

  But what were these Awakusu members doing with Anri? Was it possible that they figured out Anri was involved in the street slashings?

  Then, she noticed the little girl holding Anri’s hand, and that fear evaporated—to be replaced by a new question.

  Huh? Um…wait, what? Is that…Akane Awakusu?

  She came to a startled stop. That little girl was the very Akane Awakusu she was tasked with finding. If Celty had a head, her eyes would be bulging out of it right now. She turned to the Awakusu men and started to type.

  “Actually, I’m only here to talk to that young woman with the glasses—”

  She was interrupted by a bellow of rage.

  “Hey! Get back here!”

  “Quit skitterin’ around like a little rat!”

  She stopped typing and looked up, startled by angry shouts making a scene in broad daylight.

  You’re kidding… They followed us all this way?!

  It was a group of five or six young men in leather jackets. The irate bikers were drawing more attention from the crowd than Celty’s arrival had. Some people were scrambling away to steer clear, while others watched from what they perceived to be a safe distance or from behind nearby pillars.

  Nobody had rushed to alert the police or staff yet, only because they had merely shouted and not descended into violence yet.

  Hang on, there’s even a police box right at the corner! So they’ll go to any length to catch the head of the Dollars…Mikado!

  She considered using her shadow to tie up all the men, but wouldn’t that just cement the idea that Mikado was the leader in their minds?

  Celty’s moment of hesitation allowed the Awakusu-kai men to act instead.

  “Stop causin’ a ruckus right at the train station, you obnoxious little turds!”

  The mobsters knew that Celty had been chased around by bikers last month, so they assumed these new ones were after her, too, and were doing her the favor of brushing them off.

  But while the bikers faltered briefly, they quickly regained their poise and shot back, “Ahh? What the hell do you want?!”

  Akane jumped in fear. The four Awakusu men reacted instantly, glaring at the bikers. “Act your age; don’t scream in front of the kid. We’re busy here—get lost.”

  Again the bikers stood their ground, bristling at the dismissive attitude of the older men. “What? You with the Dollars, too? First it’s little kids, then office ladies, now even the gangsters are in the group? Dollars don’t have no standards, do they?!”

  Mikado felt his chest contract. Their slander of the Dollars felt like a denial of his entire existence.

  The Awakusu-kai, unsure of what the young men were talking about, began to wonder if they were on drugs. One of them asked, “Wait, are you the shitheads trying to go after Miss Akane…?”

  He spoke it quietly enough to keep Akane from overhearing. Naturally, the Toramaru bikers didn’t understand what that meant, either, and took it as a threat. Without noticing the girl behind the yakuza, they said something they would very much regret.

  “Quit messin’ around and just hand over that damn kid!”

  “ “ “ “ “!” ” ” ” ”

  The expressions of the Awakusu men changed instantly.

  The Toramaru members said “kid,” referring to Mikado.

  But to the Awakusu-kai, the “kid” in this situation was none other than Akane Awakusu.

  In their minds, someone was after Akane, and it had something to do with Shizuo Heiwajima attacking the gang’s office. Given this information front and center in their minds, they couldn’t be blamed for assuming the bikers were talking about the girl.

  “…You got some balls on ya. What syndicate are you workin’ for?”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Or did Yodogiri send you after us? What kinda chump change did you just sell your lives for?”

  “Wh-what the hell you talkin’ about?”

  For the first time, the bikers seemed uncertain in the face of the increasing hostility of the suits. One of those men took Akane by the hand and led her over to Celty, saying in a voice only she could hear, “Take the little miss to safety please, Celty. Shiki should still be at Dr. Kishitani’s place.”

  Uh…hang on. What do I do now?

  She recognized that the men were mistaken about something, but there wasn’t time to clear it up for them. And in any case, Akane couldn’t be left to fend for herself where a fight was about to break out.

  So Celty just gave up, took the girl’s hand, and raced off.

  “Aah!” Akane shrieked, but Celty typed, “Don’t worry. I’m on your side,” into the PDA, with a little smiley symbol to give it a friendlier air. The girl read it as they ran and looked back for Anri in confusion.

  But Anri was there next to them, her hand in Celty’s. Next to her was Mikado, who was also holding Celty’s hand.

  This was very confusing to Akane, but Anri’s presence was a relief, so she decided to go ahead and keep running. Not to mention, she might be happier pulling away from the Awakusu-kai men, anyway.

  With the extra shadows stretching out of her body, Celty temporarily boasted four arms.

  As the crowd watching the scene noticed this, they began to stir uneasily.

  “Are you serious…?” “Did he just grow arms?!” “What was that?!”

  “You mean that wasn’t a special effect?” “A magic trick?!” “Whoa!”

  “No, I’m serious, the Black Rider’s like ten feet away from me!” “Holy crap!”

  Curious gazes were all around her, but Celty had learned not to care by now. As before, she simply used her shadow to sense the surroundings and deftly block the cameras of any cell phones.

  “W-wait, damn you!”

  One of the young men in the leather jackets tried to pursue. Naturally, he planned to go after Mikado and Celty, while all the Awakusu gentlemen saw him chasing after little Akane.

  “No, we have business with you.”

  “Whuh—?!”

  A firm hand grabbed the biker’s collar from behind, and he toppled to the ground.

  Celty watched this happen as she raced up the stairs of the east gate.

  Her motorcycle was parked on the street in front of the station. This was a parking violation, but she justified her actions as an emergency in this case.

  Four on one bike…not gonna work! I guess I’ve got to do this one again!

  Celty touched Shooter’s back, sending shadows into it and giving a signal. The motorcycle’s rear half began to evolve, regaining the true form of the Coiste Bodhar, the dullahan’s steed.

  This was not the simpl
e horse form that she had used several times in the last year, but the true original Coiste Bodhar of Ireland—meaning a full two-wheeled carriage pulled by a headless horse.

  Sorry, Shooter, you’ll have to put up with a bit of extra weight!

  Celty placed Anri and Mikado on the carriage seat, where she would normally sit, and fashioned a seat belt out of shadow to hold them in place. She used a similar trick to strap Akane to her own back and leaped onto Shooter’s horse form.

  This transformation, of course, happened in broad daylight, in crowded Ikebukuro, during the Golden Week holiday, in full view of easily over a hundred pedestrians and waiting taxi drivers.

  As the wide-eyed crowd watched, helplessly transfixed, Celty put similar shadow-fashioned helmets on her three fellow passengers—this would be a much more efficient solution than covering every single camera out there.

  Lastly, she grabbed black reins and lashed them hard.

  The headless horse’s whinny echoed across Ikebukuro’s east gate rotary.

  Let’s go, Shooter.

  The pitch-black carriage started to ride.

  Slowly at first, but it soon caught up to the speed of traffic, an old-fashioned horse-drawn carriage on the asphalt of the big city.

  Thattaboy, here we go! Celty encouraged her mount, then offered up a prayer.

  Not to any god, but to the flow of the entire city, a force of fate.

  Please…if you’re listening…don’t let us run across that terrifying motorcycle cop!!

  The crowd watched the whinnying carriage ride away with utter astonishment.

  But among them were some who kept their cool, relatively speaking: Vorona and Slon, who had trailed Celty to that spot.

  They each rode their own motorcycle into the rotary, where they witnessed the stunning transformation.

  Through the wireless units in their helmets, Slon said to Vorona, “Okay…this thing literally is a monster.”

  “Affirmative. But problem is not that spot,” said Vorona. Her tone was as cool as ever, as she pointed out, “The boy was riding in rear with her. Problem is truth that two more have been added.”

  “Oh, that’s why the bike turned into a carriage. What would you say if I told you I was so fascinated with how that works, I won’t be able to sleep tonight?”

  “Answer impossible. I recommend investigation of your own.”

  She rolled forward slowly, having technically answered his question. The light was green now, but traffic had been stunned still by the previous sight. Eventually the cars in the back that hadn’t seen what happened starting honking.

  Beneath the raucous noise, Vorona explained, “Added two are related to job.”

  “What?”

  “One is bespectacled girl that claims blade from skin. The other is little girl, target of kidnapping. Certain—zero criteria for denial.”

  “…Really? Now that you mention it…,” Slon muttered, following Vorona on his own bike. It looked smaller, carrying his larger body, but it was actually the same model as Vorona’s.

  As she followed the carriage, Vorona rationally considered the situation. Eventually, she said, “Bespectacled girl and young girl are from different clients. Distinct duties. Confirm?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Yet different duties are gathered as one. Add Black Rider to make three. Inexplicable.”

  “…You mean the rider’s a connection between the two jobs?” Slon asked.

  Rather than confirm or deny this, Vorona continued, “Coincidence, inevitability—unknown. Possibility that the link is the boy Black Rider took from factory: greater than zero.”

  “Good point…”

  “Depending on factors, possibility that client is trying to set us up: greater than zero. I propose necessity of acting carefully,” Vorona said. She believed she spoke these words calmly. And anyone unfamiliar with her who heard them would feel a mechanical chill to them.

  But Slon, who had known her for a long time and was used to her odd Japanese, was aghast.

  “You’re excited, Vorona.”

  Underneath her helmet, the professional’s mouth twisted the faintest bit.

  “Affirmative. I am…in the midst of a pleasing tension.”

  May 4, day, chat room

  .

  .

  .

  The chat room is currently empty.

  The chat room is currently empty.

  The chat room is currently empty.

  Kuru has entered the chat.

  Mai has entered the chat.

  Kuru: It is a pleasure to be among you, my companions across the cyberspace. As we are in the midst of a holiday week, naturally none of you are present. But regardless, I pay this visit to the empty void of the Net to record the events Mai and I have witnessed before the adrenaline should fade from my veins.

  Mai: Hello.

  Kuru: Oh? I had assumed we would pick up directly where we left off last night, but it seems that Bacura has written something. And the backlog before that point has been erased. Alas, such is fate. One can never know when a chat room record might vanish into the ether, for it is only data and manipulable by its owner.

  Mai: Weird.

  Mai: Bacura says it’s been a week.

  Kuru: Meaning that even records cannot be trusted—the chat is like any normal conversation. Thusly! Like the typical conversation, it is right and proper that we view a chat through the lens of our own perception. No doubt our brother would smirk at this. That smirk would become a mocking laugh within my mind, leading to burning flames of hatred…

  Mai: Bacura was here yesterday.

  Kuru: Oh, that is correct. As I observe this comment anew, I must admit that it is rather strange. These are grave circumstances. If he is truthful in having no memory of this, then no doubt some impostor has been using Bacura’s name in his place. Or perhaps it is his doppelgänger… The legend says that meeting one’s doppelgänger causes death, but does it hold true over the Internet as well?

  Mai: Scary.

  Kuru: Or perhaps he wishes to erase the embarrassment that was “Shin Kuroni City” from yesterday by making it look like someone was using his name. If we are to prove his claims, we will need a statement from his so-called traveling partner and lover, but does such a person even exist? If she does, then I have been most rude.

  Mai: Two-dimensional waifu.

  Kuru: Ah, but the chat room is a mysterious thing. Even when no one is present, the place does exist in concept. And yet, if no one opens the page, the space exists nowhere. Perhaps it is just a string of numbers on the database of a server somewhere, but that is simply data, and not a “place” to speak and hold court.

  Mai: I don’t get it.

  Kuru: And yet, when there are observers such as we, this chat room is indeed a real, extant place. Even though there may be monsters prowling this chat that do not exist in the real world. Even though there may be some mythical string of text that causes any to see it to go instantly mad, as long as the page is not opened, none w

  Mai: Over the character limit.

  Kuru: Pardon me. None will be able to confirm it! It would be a true Schrödinger’s Cat. I daresay that Schrödinger himself had never dreamed that such a cyberspace would one day exist! Though I certainly do not believe that he proposed his famous cat example for this purpose.

  Mai: I don’t get it.

  Kuru: And in this case, we are the fabled cat in the unopened box for those who have not yet loaded this page. When someone does peer in on this secret conversation of ours, what state will we be in then? Will we still be talking, or have left the room, or have taken poison and died? And even opening the webpage will not reveal the state of our actual selves in the real world!

  Mai: Hey.

  Mai: Aren’t you gonna write down what happened?

  Kuru: Oh my, how silly of me. I have been chastised by Mai, both on the Net and in person, to transcribe the events of the day. And I certainly do not wish for the truth I will now relate t
o lose its impact by the length of my prattling.

  Kuru: So I shall tell you…of the event that transpired before my very eyes!

  Mai: Yay.

  Kuru: It happened as we were walking through Ikebukuro before noon. We were engaging in some shopping with a wonderful luggage-laden person from abroad whom we have recently befriended, when we glanced into the sky without a second thought. To my great surprise, what should appear atop the towering buildings but a man wearing a bartender’s outfit.

  Mai: Shizuo.

  Mai: Ouch.

  Mai: I got pinched.

  Kuru: Let us set aside for now the matter of whether or not this was the famous Shizuo Heiwajima. At any rate, this bartender gentleman was not simply staring into the sky or attempting to commit suicide by leaping. Actually, in a way, his actions could be described as suicidal—he was leaping from rooftop to rooftop down a height of two stories’ worth!

  Mai: It was cool.

  Kuru: One misstep could have plunged him to his certain doom, so what could have driven him to such an action? We were helpless to do naught but watch. The way he leaped from each window frame to the one opposite was like a beast—no, a jumping spider! In my memory, it was so wicked and sensual! I do think I might lose control!

  Bacura has entered the chat.

  Mai: Hello.

  Bacura: Hi there.

  Bacura: Um,

  Bacura: I want to ask you something,

  Bacura: Was I seriously here yesterday?

  Mai: It’s true.

  Kuru: Why, what a pleasant meeting, Bacura. Are you frightened by the appearance of your doppelgänger? Or have you gathered some evidence that proves your lover is a three-dimensional person and not a figment of your imagination? In either case, it was very naughty of you to have been spying ever since we arrived in the chat room. Simply lascivious.

  Mai: Peeping Tom.

  Bacura: No,

  Bacura: After I logged out,

  Bacura: I left it in backlog view,

  Bacura: And when I just got home now, I saw you two were posting.