Durarara!!, Vol. 8

by Ryohgo Narita

  As a result, the most experienced fighter present was either the attacker or Masaomi.

  And as for Masaomi…

  Adabashi slowly turned and glared at the boy who’d just attempted to hurt him. He stared down, looming a head taller than his prey, and hissed with laughter.

  “You know…you’re about as tall as Ruri Hijiribe. But without the breasts.”

  “?”

  “Okay. As of right now, you are Ruri.”

  “…? …?!”

  Adabashi’s wide palm caught the boy around the throat.

  “…! …!”

  “Don’t bother responding. If I hear a male voice, then I can’t pretend you’re Ruri and destroy you, can I?” Adabashi taunted, clutching the boy’s windpipe.

  He let go of Aoba’s throat and grabbed the back of his head. As the boy coughed and gasped, Adabashi drove his head directly into the nearby wall.

  The goggles cracked, and the boy’s nose seemed fit to break.

  “Aaaah, if only you really were Ruri!” Adabashi lamented, bliss in his eyes, as he drove the face into the wall, over and over.

  He’d been holding back at first, so the damage wasn’t as bad as it looked, but he gradually put more and more strength into it, smashing harder and faster as he grew more excited.

  When he saw blood seeping into the ski mask, his exhilaration reached a peak, and he swung the boy back much farther, preparing to crush his face for good—when a man’s voice interrupted him from behind.

  “You can’t even give me enough time to call the cops, you…sadistic freak!”

  A kick caught Adabashi directly in the crotch.

  His legs hadn’t been spread that far apart, but the toe of Masaomi’s shoe passed right between his knees and smashed the attacker’s groin with perfect accuracy.

  “?! ?! ?! ?? ?? !! ?! Nnnnnnnng?!?!!!”

  He fell on the spot, completely unaware of what had just happened.

  Incredible pain burst in his lower stomach, as if something had just grabbed his internal organs and squeezed. He was just barely staying conscious through the agony.

  Did that do the trick?

  Realizing that the attacker would have killed Aoba Kuronuma if given the chance, Masaomi paused his attempt to contact the police, hopped over the wall, and rushed over to kick the attacker from behind.

  The sneak attack should have ended the fight just like that.

  “Gaaahh!!”

  But the attacker’s mind overrode the pain, and even with his limbs weakened, he managed to strike at Masaomi’s feet with a low kick.

  “Whoaaaa!”

  Masaomi fell to the ground, spinning, as though a hard river current had swept his feet out from under him.

  “Do you…know Ruri, too?” the attacker asked with a smile, which was a strange thing to say for someone who should have been in a violent rage. With a trembling leg, the attacker pressed down on Masaomi’s stomach. “If I kill you, will Ruri be terribly, terribly sad?”

  “The fuck are you talking about?! Who the hell is Ruri?!” Masaomi hissed, the loudest he could manage with a foot pressed into his gut.

  “Oh…oh… Well, that’s fine,” Adabashi said, shaking his head and hissing. “Ruri is kind enough that knowing total strangers died because of her would cause her great pain.”

  Okay, is this guy on some kind of drugs?! Actually, holy crap, this is really bad!

  The man was putting more and more weight on Masaomi.

  Shit, I should’ve just abandoned the stupid…Blue…Squares… Why did I have to come…to their…aid…?

  But he knew the reason why.

  If he abandoned these people now, he would never be proud enough to present himself to Mikado, Anri, or even Saki again. He couldn’t promise himself that he’d show his face to them again someday, but if anything, it was a kind of personal moral compass within him that forced his hand.

  I’m so stupid… First with Shizuo, now this… I must be suicidalalololgh…

  Just as he felt the stomach acid starting to convulse and churn, there was a sound of glass breaking against the man’s back.

  “?”

  “?”

  Neither Masaomi nor the attacker understood what it was at first—until the man’s body was suddenly wreathed in pale-blue flames, lighting the dark alley an eerie color.

  “Yaaaaahhh!!”

  The flames spread from his back up to his ears, the blue color shifting to yellow and red. He stripped his shirt off and began to run—and within moments, he was gone.

  Masaomi didn’t have the strength to chase him, of course. All he could do was heave a sigh of relief that he was all right and look around to see what had happened.

  !

  It’s him…

  He saw the boy in the ski mask lying splayed on the asphalt, barely breathing. There were fine cracks in the goggles, almost entirely blocking his sight. Next to him was a can of lighter oil, and clutched in his hand was a Zippo lighter.

  Did he…just go right out and burn that guy without a second thought…?

  Even in self-defense, splashing oil on a person and lighting them on fire was not a decision made by a sound mind. He did know one person who would do that sort of thing—but even subtracting for the otaku part, the guy clearly wasn’t of sound mind.

  At least Kadota’s around to keep Yumasaki in line when needed…but this guy’s out on the loose and trying to use Mikado…

  “So you’re Aoba Kuronuma?”

  Masaomi glared down at the boy lying in the street. He picked him up by the collar.

  “You’re coming with me until we can confirm Anri’s safety. You have my thanks if this was supposed to be protecting her, but if you’re trying to use Mikado for some kind of plot, you’ll have to answer to me,” he threatened, his eyes hard.

  The boy in the ski mask slowly turned to face Masaomi. As if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. As if gazing at a mirage in the desert.

  “?”

  Masaomi watched and waited for a more meaningful response.

  He was too ignorant of the situation to understand.

  The way that the other Blue Squares had treated him with deference made Masaomi assume that the kid in the goggles was Aoba Kuronuma—but Masaomi didn’t know.

  The Blue Squares always treated Aoba Kuronuma as an equal, nothing more.

  He didn’t know.

  Masaomi just didn’t know.

  The boy in the ski mask was not Aoba Kuronuma.

  There was only one person whom the Blue Squares treated with the respect of a leader.

  And that one boy looked up at Masaomi and opened his mouth.

  “…………………………………………Masaomi?”

  It was the voice that Masaomi Kida had wanted to hear more than any other.

  And the voice that he wanted to hear coming from that particular ski mask least of all.

  Wha…?

  Mika…do…?

  A voice he never imagined he would hear.

  He prayed that he had merely misheard it.

  But as Masaomi clutched the boy’s collar, dumbfounded, the boy reached up and pulled off his mask and goggles—revealing a bloodied, familiar face.

  “Masaomi…? It’s not…a dream, right?”

  “Mikado…? It can’t be…can it?”

  Masaomi let go of the collar and fell to his knees.

  He had to say something.

  But the absolutely shocking and unexpected reunion left his mind a blank.

  “What…what the…hell was that?” was the only statement he could produce.

  Mikado used a handkerchief to wipe his face, occasionally grimacing and hissing, “Ouch!” He’d probably fractured his nose, his cheekbone, or perhaps both.

  “H-hey…you okay?! You need a hospital…no, an ambulance…,” Masaomi mumbled, just before he heard the sound of an approaching vehicle.

  A station wagon pulled over on the side of the street. From the backseat emerged a youthful
boy with a bandanna tied around his forehead. He rushed over to Mikado’s side.

  “Mikado! Are you okay?!” he shouted. He was followed by a much taller boy who went around to check on the other fallen Blue Squares.

  “Yeah…I’ll manage. But he really got the others bad…”

  “Looking at your face, he got you pretty bad, too… So, who’s this?” the boy asked Mikado uncertainly. He had realized that Masaomi did not seem hostile and thus didn’t treat him like an enemy—for now.

  “…Masaomi…Masaomi Kida. My friend.”

  The boy’s eyes narrowed when he heard the name. “Oh, so you’re…”

  There was a subtle interplay of emotion in his voice. But Masaomi did not miss the instant when his mouth started curving into a grin.

  Still, he didn’t particularly care. Masaomi called out to Mikado, who was getting to his feet and leaning on the shoulder of the real Aoba.

  “H-hey…Mikado…?”

  The others were heading straight for the car, but then Mikado turned back, his expression a little somber. “I’m sorry…Masaomi. Just wait…just wait a bit longer.”

  “Huh?”

  His face expressed sadness but not in a pathetic sense. It was like the look he would give in elementary school when he borrowed a video game and forgot to bring it back with him.

  “Wait… What do you mean?”

  They needed to talk. But he had no idea what to say.

  Mikado saw Masaomi, panicking and confused, and smiled.

  Just like he did in the old days. Like when they were in elementary school.

  He smiled the way he did when he asked, “Is that you, Kida?” when they reunited in Ikebukuro.

  Smiled. Smiled. Smiled.

  That same smile, just like the old Mikado.

  It was exactly what froze Masaomi this time and kept him from finding the words he wanted to say.

  Is that…

  …really you…Mikado?

  The boy smiled like always, despite the blood streaming from his face and the likelihood of multiple bone fractures. The note of innocent pluckiness in that smile caused a freezing trickle of sweat to run down Masaomi’s back.

  The smile was eerie. It was like watching him smile as he headed out into a roof-ripping hurricane without so much as a raincoat.

  Masaomi remained silent until Mikado spoke again, still wearing that same old smile.

  “Just a bit longer.”

  “Huh?”

  “Just a bit longer, and I’ll have made it… The place for you and Sonohara to come home to.”

  Masaomi felt his own spine creak. That was the signal for a cold shiver of fear to race from his legs up through his body.

  Yet he still stepped toward the car, feeling like he had to talk to Mikado.

  “H-hey…Mikado…?”

  But his old friend didn’t stop again. Without turning, Mikado continued in a murmur, “So…I want you to wait until then. I know I’ll find a way…to save you and Sonohara. And until that point…I don’t think we should meet.”

  That was the clincher. Masaomi couldn’t ask anything after that. All he could do was stand still.

  “What’s up with the stalkers?” Mikado asked Aoba.

  “One of them ran off with his eyes all red. The other one—probably the guy who did you in, Mikado—I think he used a car to escape. At the very least, Anri should be safe for now,” the newcomer replied.

  “Ah…that’s good.”

  Once he was in the car, Mikado stuck his head out of the window and mentioned to Masaomi, as if just remembering it, “Sorry, Masaomi, I need you to do one…no, two things.”

  “You need my help…? Wh-what is it? Don’t hold back, man! Tell me anything!”

  Just tell me. You didn’t want this to happen, did you? So spit it out… Ask me to help you!

  Masaomi could only envision his own selfish desires—but once again, Mikado just gave him that smile.

  “I’m going to meet Sonohara in a minute…and I want you to keep this a secret from her. The fact that I was here…and that I was trying to save her.”

  “Huh…?”

  “And the other thing is…I want you to return that cat to her.”

  Masaomi followed Mikado’s gaze down to the ground at his feet.

  “Mewww.”

  An adorable little kitten had sidled up to his legs at some point and was frolicking around his shoes, begging to be played with.

  How long did Masaomi stand there, frozen in place?

  It was until the moment that Mikado’s car pulled away, so objectively, it probably wasn’t even a minute long. But to Masaomi it felt as though several hours had passed, or perhaps that he’d been unconscious for several days, such was the sudden sense of loss that plagued him.

  Mikado’s car vanished at just about the same moment that Anri came stumbling in from the shadows.

  “…Anri,” he mumbled. Her eyes got huge when she saw him, and she started trotting toward him on unsteady legs.

  “Kida…?! Why…why are you here?!” she shouted, unable to hide her surprise. It’d been half a year since their last encounter.

  With dazed wits, Masaomi realized this might be the first time he’d ever heard her raise her voice. He stammered, “Uh…err… Actually, I was just passing through here.”

  It was a completely unbelievable excuse, but Anri didn’t seem to give it a second thought. She smiled as she asked, “Kida…where have you been all this…?”

  But before she could finish her question, Dokusonmaru cried, “Meow.”

  “Dokusonmaru! Kida…did you save this cat…?”

  That was when she noticed that he was injured in several places. She was still suffering the aftereffects of the attack herself, but the sight of shoe prints on Masaomi’s shirt told her he didn’t only find the cat.

  Before she asked about what happened to him, she decided that she should express her gratitude.

  “Thank—”

  “Sorry, Anri!”

  “Huh?” she mumbled, taken aback.

  “I swear, I’ll explain later! Just, please…please hang on for a bit!” he said, triumphing over his sense of grief with determination.

  Upon seeing the bafflement on her face, Masaomi thought to himself, I suppose I must have looked like Anri does now a few minutes ago. Sorry, Anri. I’m so sorry. But…I don’t have the right to talk to you yet.

  He knew that you didn’t need the “right” to talk to a friend, but it was that personal moral compass interfering again. He had to assume that his instinct was correct.

  Masaomi stared right at the girl and stated, “I…I will return to you guys. And when I do, I will absolutely give you a proper explanation… Sorry!”

  And then he turned his back on her and raced into the night.

  “Huh…? Kida? Kid—?!”

  She was about to follow him but then stopped her legs of her own accord.

  Just a sliver of Saika’s blade protruded from her hand.

  A particularly strong rush of “voices of love” pulsed out of it.

  “Let’s cut him.” “Let’s cut him?” “Let’s cut him!”

  “Let’s love him!” “Let’s love him?” “Let’s love him.”

  “You love him and Mikado and everyone else, don’t you?”

  “So let’s get them both—”

  “…!”

  Anri shook her head vigorously and forced the extended piece of Saika back into her body.

  No…that would be…wrong…

  She’d used her ability to push the world around her through the picture frame as a defense mechanism around her heart. But Mikado and Masaomi were undeniably making their way from inside the frame over to her side of the scene.

  Which made her very nervous.

  When she was no longer able to view them objectively, when she truly wished for them to be a part of her own world—would Saika’s wicked ability reach out to seize them, too?

  It was precisely because Anri lived with the
incessant voices—could never ever turn them off—that she was so afraid of this.

  If she ever allowed herself to love someone, would she sink to being one of Saika’s voices and end up hurting people she truly cared about?

  For a girl who considered herself a parasite, losing a host was the most frightening concept imaginable.

  As if sensing her fear, Dokusonmaru rubbed up against Anri’s legs and cried, “Mewww, mewww.”

  Inside a station wagon, Ikebukuro

  “I need to ask you for something, Aoba.”

  “What is it?” the younger boy asked, shoulders bobbing.

  Mikado continued, “I’ll probably be out of my home and bouncing around between manga cafés for a little while, so you won’t be able to reach me the usual way. We should discuss that again later.”

  “You’re leaving home? But why?”

  “…Because Masaomi might decide to barge right into my place. And I think it’s best if I don’t talk to him at all until the process of ‘sorting out’ the Dollars is finished…”

  Mikado looked out the window, a mild note of loneliness contained in that usual smile of his.

  “I don’t want to get Masaomi or Sonohara involved, if I can help it… This is a problem that needs to be solved within the Dollars.

  “When I invite Sonohara and Masaomi, the Dollars should be more…”

  He trailed off there, looked away, and smiled.

  Perhaps he was reminiscing about his past with his two friends or imagining their future together. Perhaps he was doing both.

  “…”

  Aoba sensed a mild kind of madness lurking in that smile of Mikado’s. He chose not to comment, and he closed his eyes.

  Then he envisioned the various possible futures—and he, too, smiled.

  But unlike Mikado, his smile was brimming with wickedness.

  Ikebukuro

  A park near Ikebukuro Station offered a distant view of the Raira Academy campus. There, Masaomi leaned against one of the trees lining the park and considered things.

  The night was late now and the foot traffic much lighter. He took out his cell phone and decided to call Saki first. After he told her that he’d be home late, he placed another call.