“A tepid country drowning in its own peace. Half disappointment. Half envy.”
A few minutes later, inside a karaoke box
“I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m too curious to take another step.”
The pair entered a predesignated individual karaoke room, where they would wait for a certain contact to arrive—but as soon as they walked inside, the large man named Slon curled up and cradled his head in his hands.
Vorona, meanwhile, pulled a book out of her paper bag and began to read, flipping the pages rapidly. She said, “You are sitting. Deny your need to walk.”
“I just can’t help it… In the street back there, I saw a sukiyaki and a shabu-shabu restaurant. I just can’t stop thinking about beef,” Slon muttered, looking like the world was about to end. Vorona continued flipping the pages of the book without glancing at him.
“How…how do the cows grow so big when all they eat is grass?! It makes no sense that they can bulk up to that size from grass alone… I cannot undertake any jobs—I cannot even see a reason to live until I have solved this mystery!” he wailed, tears streaming out of his eyes.
Vorona continued turning the pages, but while her brain was totally fixated on the book, her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. “A cow’s stomach has special microorganisms, and the microorganisms react to the grass and saliva. They produce amino acids that the cow absorbs. Then, the cow grows. No problem.”
“…”
She had accurately, succinctly answered Slon’s question. Satisfied, his face shone with a brilliant light.
“Oh, I see! You’re so smart, Vorona! Of course! Now I can eat steak with reassurance once again! It all makes sense now!”
But then…
“And I can drink milk! Of course, the picture of a human sucking on a cow’s nipple is strange, but…but…oh… Now that I think about it…huh?”
A sudden thought caused Slon’s head to sink down into his hands once again over the menu sitting on the table.
“I can’t do it… I’m so curious I can’t even look at the menu… Thinking about cow nipples made me wonder—why do men have nipples? What possible benefit do they have to procreating the species…? Damn! I won’t move from this spot until I’ve solved the mystery of nipples! This is my war to fight!”
“There is a period in gestation when the fetus is neither male nor female. The sex is determined after the stage at which the nipples are generated. It is merely a leftover from that stage.”
“Oh…ohhh… It’s perfect! You’re perfect, Vorona!” Slon exclaimed to the expressionless woman. “But…that brings a new question…and if I don’t know this, I don’t know how I can live in this world! Why—why are you not ashamed, Vorona?! When a man and a woman are alone and speaking suggestively of nipples and procreation?!”
Vorona replied to his idiotic question by flipping more pages.
She flipped.
And flipped.
And flipped.
And flipped.
And flipped, and flipped, and flipped, and—
“Are you ignoring me?!” Slon cried out at last, as Vorona finished reading her first book.
She pulled out a second and looked ready to say something at last, but the door to the karaoke room opened at that very moment, and a man appeared.
“Ahh, hello, hello, please pardon me.”
An aging Japanese-looking man with a thoroughly friendly face looked through the doorway.
“Hello, hello, sorry about the wait. Hello,” the man repeated, beaming as he took a seat. “I hope you’ll forgive my haste, as I am a very busy man… I will get right to explaining your job.”
He smiled all throughout his speech and pulled out two photographs to show the Russians without waiting for a response.
“The truth of the matter is…I need you to abduct a child for me.”
“…”
The first photo was of a little girl with a doleful expression on her face. She couldn’t have been more than elementary school age. Slon took the photo with his brow furrowed, while Vorona continued to flip the pages of her book, despite being in the midst of a negotiation.
The aging gentleman did not react. He continued his explanation.
“This is the granddaughter of the local yakuza boss—ah, yakuza being the Japanese mafia, ha-ha. I want you to kidnap her without killing her, if at all possible. Ha-ha-ha, I’m sorry about this. I know, you’re usually hired killers rather than kidnappers. I know, I know.”
“You might be the client who brought us to this country, but our participation will depend on the money. We can perform this job without being identified, but making an enemy of the yakuza carries its own considerable price,” Slon said in quite fluent Japanese.
The man chuckled politely. “Well, you see, that is its own tricky problem. As it happens, they’ve hired their own bodyguard for the child. It is hard to imagine, but if the rumor is true, he is quite a dreadful fellow.”
Bodyguard.
The mention of that word was the only thing that could stop Vorona from flipping pages.
“Protection is powerful? Confirm or deny. Quick answer is desired,” she demanded.
The aging man smiled amiably at her and murmured, “Well, you see…it’s not even a matter of strength or weakness… This one is almost like a magician.”
“?”
“There was some footage on the Internet, so I downloaded it very hastily before coming here…”
The man had already produced a portable video player from his pocket and was playing a video on its small screen.
It was footage from a news program.
A group of what appeared to be criminals were on the run from a police car, as well as a mysterious figure on a black motorcycle swinging an enormous scythe at them.
“This is somewhat of an urban legend around these parts, known as the Black Rider… Who can say what sort of trick is being employed to create this effect? All I know is that if you try to mess with the girl in this photo, he will have something to say about it.”
The man lowered his face in apparent consternation—but his expression still contained a smile. He looked sidelong at Vorona, whose face wore an emotion she had not yet expressed here.
“I have one question.”
Vorona’s cheeks were flushed, and her mouth curved upward into a delighted smile. She did not bother to hide her excitement.
“Will you allow me to kill this biker?”
The question was meaningless.
Slon did not consider himself to be a smart man, but he knew something about his partner.
Vorona was born with an innate berserk desire for battle.
With the carrot of fighting a mystery foe dangling in front of her, there was no way she would refuse this job.
He also knew another thing about her.
No matter how their client, Jinnai Yodogiri, answered her question, Vorona was going to attempt to kill this biker.
With these facts in mind, Slon calmly decided: I don’t get it, so I don’t care.
And so the mysterious Russians, their abilities still kept hidden, willingly stepped into the realm of the abnormal.
But then again, to them, the present situation of unrest and unease could be considered perfectly normal.
The Black Market Doctor Gets Sappy, Part Three
Don’t worry. She’s fast asleep.
Internal medicine’s not my forte, but I had a feeling she had a case of acute pharyngitis.
Huh? Teething fever?
No, teething fever is something that only happens to babies, or toddlers at best. You know, just because we call it “knowledge fever” in Japanese doesn’t mean it’s caused by thinking too hard.
Then again, Shizuo, your brain is about equivalent to a toddler’s, so maybe it would apply to you— Bublagh!
…
Listen, your forehead flick does about as much damage as a normal person ramming their knee into my face, so be a little more judicial in how you
use that, all right? How long did that concussion knock me out?
I never thought I’d have to adjust my own jaw back into place. It’s a good thing I have plenty of experience dislocating and relocating joints.
…Yeah, when my grandpa started choking on a mochi once, Dad dislocated his jaw so he could reach down and fish it out of his throat with his bare hand. That’s a technique reserved for emergencies, though.
But enough about that. What’s the deal with that girl? She didn’t have any identification on her.
…What do you mean, “You better not have done anything weird to her”?
Listen, before you even start accusing me of being a lolicon, can you imagine me trying to put the moves on any girl other than Celty? If that was Celty moaning with fever on the bed, you can bet I’d be using my own body as a blanket to keep her warm!
And if Celty didn’t exist, I’d probably be a hermit on some distant mountaintop, soaking in the majesty of nature. The only thing that can compare to Celty’s breathtaking beauty is the entirety of the earth… That’s my point. In fact, I still think Celty wins in that competition. What do you think?
…Hey, Shizuo, why does that guy Tom over there keep shooting me these pitying glances?
Why aren’t you saying anything?
Well, whatever.
Huh? Celty?
Celty’s out doing work for Mr. Shiki from the Awakusu-kai.
Yes, Shiki.
Their controlling operation, the Medei-gumi, is about to break bread with the Asuki-gumi, so it seems they’re quite busy right now… He had some very important job to ask of Celty.
…
Yes, well, I’d be lying if I claimed I wasn’t worried.
I mean, you know what kind of business the Awakusu-kai is involved in, right? A precious, gentle girl like Celty isn’t suited to that world of bullets and blood… Actually, I’m kidding. I think she’s perfectly suited to it.
A pitch-black rider weaving through a hail of bullets. Isn’t that cool?
But I digress—I am worried. I wish she’d just stay with me at all hours of the day, but sadly, I’d only drag her down.
Still, I’m reassured by her strength.
Celty is strong. Mentally and physically.
In fact, Shizuo, it’s kind of overlooked because you’re monstrously powerful, but Celty is actually quite strong in her own right. She can take one of those metal pipes and twist it just like that, too.
She can take a hit from a car and keep going. It does still hurt her, though, from what I understand.
But she could be surrounded by ten or so of your average thugs and be perfectly fine. Now if it were thirty, she might get a bit scared.
She has certain weaknesses: a fear of certain types of supernatural topics and police bikers, but I think the presence of weaknesses makes her more lovable as a girl.
More than strong, she’s cute. Isn’t that nice? Isn’t that great?
You can’t have her, Shizuo. She gets along with you—and that makes me jealous.
…Huh? It’s Tom, right? Why are you making that face?
Celty? Yes, that’s right. I’m talking about the Black Rider.
She was a girl all along…? You never explained that to him, Shizuo?
…Huh? You didn’t know that Celty was a girl until recently, either?
I can’t believe this!
Just look at her enticing center of gravity! Just a glimpse of her voluptuous outline beneath the shadow should be enough to entice physical desire, you cads!
Yes… If you don’t need a head to love a person, then you also do not need a head to desire them. In fact, when I was in high school, I didn’t feel a single ounce of desire for the normal girls. But Celty was different! When I was a kid, Celty was like a big sister I could count on, but now that I’ve grown to adulthood, she’s more like an adorable kitten. Though in that case, I might be a rat.
…Sorry, that got a little sappy. But I don’t regret it.
Let’s get back to the girl.
What in the world did you do to get a little girl you’ve never met before to tell you to “drop dead,” Shizuo?
I can see why you wouldn’t know, though. You’re the kind of guy who accumulates grudges without realizing it.
Let’s say that one day, you pull out a tree lining the boulevard to use in a fight.
Let’s say there was a girl who lost her mother years ago, and that very tree budded from the ground on the very day the mother died… So when you pulled that tree out of the ground, you were tearing out the memento of her dear departed mum, and thus you earned her eternal ire… You never know.
That’s just an example, though.
I certainly think it’s more likely than the possibility that this sweet little girl is a wanton, indiscriminate killer.
Saika?
No, not that. Her eyes weren’t red, for one thing.
But whatever the reason, it’s a good reminder that people can be murderous toward one another for the smallest reasons. That’s a fact, whether you can imagine that reason or not.
It just happens to you out of the blue.
Sometimes, misunderstandings and misguided revenge are involved.
However, even at the point you realize you’re angry because someone is trying to kill you over a misunderstanding…doesn’t change the fact that they’re trying to kill you. You just have to overcome that situation.
Besides, maybe it’s not a mistake.
Trivial things that you did in the past can turn the lives of others insane. It happens all the time.
And then, there are people who do those “trivial things” on purpose.
Like Izaya.
Ooh, that got a real nasty look on your face.
Why can’t you two just kiss and make up already?
…Or wait, were you ever on good terms?
Ahh, that takes me back. High school!
For being our green, inexperienced youth, it sure was red all the time.
It was always blood, blood, blood around you and Izaya.
But thanks to you, I got a lot better at setting bones and sewing stitches, ha-ha.
I don’t hate Izaya, as a matter of fact.
He’s just very honest about his desires. The same way you’re honest about your emotions.
In Izaya’s case, it would have been so much easier if the target of his desires were straightforward, like money or women.
Instead, he had to get involved with “human observation,” whatever that is.
Watching other people and feeling superior to them is such an infuriating hobby, don’t you think? It just makes him arrogant.
He was clever enough to be aware of his situation, so he didn’t rub too many people the wrong way—but he would use his findings to say the one thing that will shock and unnerve a person the most, without drawing their hostility.
…That Tom fellow seems to want to say something. What is it?
…You think I’m observing people and basking in my own superiority more than anyone else? Oh, geez. Looks like I was the one who rubs people the wrong way after all.
Well, as long as Celty still loves me, I don’t really care.
Gosh, I wish the three of us could hang out again, just like we did back at Raira Academy.
Standing back at a safe distance while watching you and Izaya try to kill each other was, like, my daily routine.
Speaking of which, I wonder how it is for the students at Raira now.
Um, well, I don’t really know them, but at the big hot-pot party, Celty knew a boy there named Mikado Ryuugamine. Oh, and I know the girl named Anri Sonohara. You met her once when you were here with a gunshot wound, remember? Also…do you know Seiji Yagiri and Mika Harima? You were there at the party, right?
Huh? You know Seiji?
He stabbed with you a pen? What?
Well, anyway… For the most part, they seemed pretty well-behaved.
Mikado and Anri are like perfectly ordinary modern kids who wou
ld never get into a fight.
They seem to be sharing some kind of secret with Celty, but the thing about secrets is, with little kids and girls, they can be alluring. The mysterious beauty. The mystery children. It’s nice, like a movie subtitle. A big sweaty guy with a secret is just a suspicious creep up to no good.
…Why did you look at me when I said the word creep?
Well, anyway…
I wonder how youth is for kids growing up nowadays.
Back when we were in high school, you and Izaya pretty much ruined it for me, except that I was happy because I had Celty to go home to each and every day.
It’s a nice thing, having a home to return to.
It is a bit worrisome that they seem to know Izaya, though.
Youth is a writhing thing.
It squirms and wriggles in the mud.
Youth is considered to be the “springtime” of one’s life… But spring is not always some fanciful fairy-tale time.
It’s also the season when all the bugs and squirming things that people hate come crawling out of the earth.
Perhaps that youth might turn out to be one of the worms or grubs in that swarm.
They all hope that they don’t turn out that way, but as I said earlier, you never know when you might be earning the hatred of someone else.
In Mikado’s case, just being an acquaintance of Izaya means he’s treading in very dangerous waters.
And of course, meeting you at the hot-pot party means they’re now officially treading into a hellish hot pot of troub— Blrrgfh!
Chapter 3: The Days of Youth Shine and Crumble
Russia
“So, where were we?”
Lingerin’s hands rattled as he shook them, still stuck inside the pots.
But in contrast to his jaunty tone of voice, the place where he stood was one of raw violence.
The stench of blood filled the room. But even stronger was the pungent smell of gunpowder, the haze of smoke blotting out the red accents that covered the floor here and there.
A pile of bodies lay around Lingerin’s feet. Men of obviously foreign origin, presumably the illegal stowaways mentioned earlier, now sacks of flesh, their heads and torsos streaming blood.
Durarara!!, Vol. 5 Page 8