“I think your uncle was a lot like me. He believed in the afterlife less than anyone else. He feared death more than anyone else. And he craved heaven more than anyone else.”
Namie tried to imagine her uncle’s face in Izaya, hoping for some insight into his personality, but she had a shocking lack of interest for any member of her family other than Seiji, and in the moment she could barely remember what her uncle was like.
“But he found the truth. And so did I. There is another world beyond ours. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“…?”
He ran his fingers gently through the hair of Celty’s beautiful head.
“It’s said that dullahans only come in what is essentially a female form. Do you know why?”
“…No. My people did some research on mythology, but I thought it was pointless.”
“You’re too logical and pragmatic for that. But I digress… There are many commonalities and connections between mythological tales found all around the world. There’s a heaven called Valhalla in Norse mythology—technically it’s not a heaven, but whatever. It’s similar to the inn of the afterlife as found in Celtic mythology. The Norse believed in female angels clad in armor called Valkyries who came to escort the souls of mighty, worthy warriors to Valhalla. A woman in armor who comes for the dead—sound familiar?”
What’s your point?
Namie had no idea what Izaya was trying to say, but she couldn’t help but be concerned by the angular smile that stayed plastered on his face, looking more like a mask with every passing moment.
“According to one theory, a dullahan is just a Valkyrie wandering the earth. That’s why the dullahans are only female and often depicted wearing armor. That must mean this head is waiting—waiting for the awakening. For the battle. Searching for the holy warrior to take to Valhalla.”
This was entirely his own interpretation, but the way he spoke made it sound like the truth.
“The reason this head’s eyes won’t open, even though it’s alive, is because there’s no war here. I wish I could be chosen as her warrior. But I don’t have the skills to survive if I took it to the Middle East, let’s say.”
And with a glint of hope in his voice, his smile shut out everything else.
“If there really is a Valhalla after death, what should I do? A war—I need to start a war myself. But I’m not going to be of any use in the Middle East. So I need to start a war that only I can orchestrate and star in. Isn’t that right?”
He placed a finger on the corner of the board covered with Othello, shogi, and chess pieces and spun it with evident pleasure. The pieces scattered and flew, leaving only the promoted pawn still sitting in the center.
“However, if I start a war here in Tokyo, one that involves no armies or governments, I’m positive that I have what it takes to survive. How lucky I am! I lived without faith in heaven, lived a life far from holiness—and because of that, I met a fallen angel of death here on earth!”
Izaya grinned with unbridled glee, his smile devoid of expression. There was no room for anyone or anything to affect his excitement. Namie opened her mouth to say something, but could only produce the clumsiest rebuttal.
“That’s just, like…your opinion.”
“There is only salvation for those of faith. Besides, I’m just saying, this is insurance. I’m taking out insurance on the afterlife. Maybe it’s hell—a place with nothing but suffering—but at least I’ll exist there. Still, if I have the option, I’d prefer heaven.”
He called out to her like he was asking her out to dinner. “Hey, Namie, let’s all go to heaven together.”
As she looked at his mask of pleasure, Namie realized that she was giving this “agent of heaven” to the very last person on earth that she should. He smiled at her.
“I’ll take custody of this head as a member of the Dollars. Celty would never imagine that her head was under her team’s own control, would she?”
Dollars? Celty’s team?
The unfamiliar information closed in on Namie’s will, bewildering her. Izaya giddily offered a deal with the devil.
“You should join the Dollars yourself. Our boss has a policy of pulling in anyone and everyone who comes to us. Of course, I’m the one who really started recruiting people.”
He seemed to belittle her, care for her, and bless her all at once.
“Let’s help our fallen angel find her wings and take flight again, shall we?”
South Ikebukuro Park, early morning
This is a twisted story.
“I do not love you.”
A man and woman were leaning against each other on a park bench under the brightening sky.
“But as long as you’re around, I won’t forget my love and dedication for her. Therefore, I accept your love. At least, until the day I get her back,” Seiji said in an empty voice as he softly embraced Mika’s body.
Mika smiled to herself. There was a quiet conviction in that smile.
I have to be that head for Seiji to truly love me. Therefore, I will sacrifice everything I have to love him. I’ll do anything I can to help him find that head. And when we do, I’ll grind it to a pulp right in front of him, pour the remains into my mouth, and make it part of my flesh and blood. It’s all for his sake, for his sake, for his sake…
A love between them that would last until the moment their true love came true.
A love that was so straightforward and so terribly twisted.
The sight of them was so delicate and precious—and so horribly, horribly wrong.
Epilogue: Ordinary Days, Light
Like a grade-schooler on the day after watching the latest episode of the hottest anime, Masaomi’s face was plastered with an enormous grin.
“Mikado, you won’t believe what I saw on the Net… Get this, there was a Dollars meetup yesterday! Turns out Simon and Shizuo are both in the Dollars! And the Black Rider showed up totally headless and swinging a scythe and went like vwoww! right down the wall!”
“I don’t understand a word of what you just said.”
School hadn’t vanished off the map, even following a night like the one before. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds as though nothing had ever happened, and a perfectly boring, normal day passed by.
When the lunch period began, Mikado headed for the roof of the main school building. Nearly everyone else went to the school cafeteria, which was as large and deluxe as those on a university campus—or else they ventured out into the nearby neighborhood to order a quick lunch. Only a few weird students who brought home-cooked lunches bothered to eat up on the roof.
Mikado stared up at the sky, the same sight as it was anywhere else in town, and had the utterly ordinary epiphany that this was the exact same sky he saw back in his hometown. It was strange to think that after such an abnormal experience, he could find such a sense of relief and peace in his heart. It was the peace that came the day after a long-awaited field trip.
The day after the incident, Mikado came to school rubbing sleepy eyes to find Seiji Yagiri sitting in his seat, perfectly matter-of-fact. He did not look at Mikado during class, but when their first break started, he turned and briefly said, “Sorry for everything,” before returning to his seat.
More surprising was Mika Harima’s sudden attendance. Anri was surprised at the slight changes to her face, but since most of the students had never seen her until this day, she didn’t strike them as strange in the least, if you ignored the bandage around her neck.
Mika gave Mikado a brief word of thanks from the seat next to him. When the break started, she immediately started clinging to Seiji.
“Damn, so that’s Seiji’s girlfriend? No way! No wonder he lives in love, then!” Masaomi remarked. Mikado put on an uncomfortable smile—he knew more of the truth than his friend did—and muttered an affirmative.
But it seemed that after the latest turn of events, Mika no longer hung out with Anri. Each time they had a break between periods, Anri sat alone i
n the corner of the classroom. Mikado watched her, feeling conflicted.
Whether or not this was a good thing for her was something that only she knew. But…was that really true? Was there no way for him to understand? Perhaps no one really understood the heart of another.
“You’ll simply need to keep evolving,” echoed Izaya’s words in his head.
Fine, then, I will evolve. I’ll find out just how much I can evolve within the ordinary world I’ve been given—and then I’ll show it to him.
At this point, he had no idea if it was up or down that he’d been looking all this time. As a matter of fact, whatever the answer, he was still looking that way now. The only difference is that he’d made a little wiggle room for himself, front and back.
Mikado stared out the classroom window at the sixty-story building overhead and reflected on his own feelings.
After his experience with the absolutely unreal and extraordinary, he was left with an odd mixture of fulfillment and emptiness.
I bet now I can stare reality right in the face. I can accept it.
And once he decided that he was ready to be honest with himself, he knew what he needed to do.
Mikado was on the roof. From what he heard, she ate lunch here every day.
After such a bold maneuver, he thought that he was capable of anything. He thought nothing could scare him anymore.
He didn’t expect to get tripped up over something like this.
It was so easy to reach out and talk to people on the Internet…
He never in his wildest dreams expected that it would be so hard to achieve his desires in ordinary, real life.
Who knew that it took so much courage just to ask a girl in your class to hang out?
The boy will find Anri in thirty seconds.
The boy will spot Masaomi attempting to woo Anri in thirty-five seconds.
The boy will kick Masaomi to the ground in forty-five seconds.
The boy will suffer Masaomi’s rolling sobat kick in fifty seconds.
The boy will ask Anri to a café in seventy-three seconds.
The boy will be rejected by Anri in seventy-four seconds.
The boy will be invited to eat lunch on the roof by Anri in seventy-eight seconds.
The boy will fall in love with Anri in—
The boy will profess his love for Anri in—
Chat room
At the end of the day, Mikado turned on his computer. He was curious how the Internet was reacting to the previous night’s events, but it didn’t seem to be spreading much. A few people had posted about the dullahan, but no one was taking them seriously.
Figures, Mikado snorted to himself, then took a look in the chat room he visited just about every day—the chat room that Izaya had invited him to, using the nickname Kanra. The only other person in the room was his friend under the name of Setton.
Another person invited to the chat room by Kanra. I wonder if Setton has some secret identity, too…
—TAROU TANAKA HAS ENTERED THE CHAT—
{Good evening.}
[Evening. I’ve just been waiting around.]
{Okay. I’m pretty tired tonight, so I won’t be around for long.}
[Lack of sleep? Did you pull an all-nighter?]
{Kind of.}
[Kanra’s not online yet, I guess.]
{Do you suppose he’ll show up?}
[Uh-oh. Sorry, something’s come up that I need to take care of.]
{Oh, is that so?}
[Sorry, bye.]
{Okay, good night.}
—SETTON HAS LEFT THE CHAT—
“Sorry to interrupt your fun,” said the man in the white coat, smiling apologetically.
“No big deal,” she typed on the keyboard. Celty popped up out of the chair.
“Just be careful—tonight’s job could be pretty dicey. Here’s the deal…”
She listened to the description of her mission and left the apartment without a sound.
It was the start of another day for Celty.
Epilogue: Ordinary Days, Dark
A black shadow raced down National Route 254.
It was a pitch-black motorcycle without a headlight. Far, far ahead, a number of police cars carved away at the darkness with their red lights.
Ahead of even those patrol cars came the occasional dry blast of an explosion.
When that sound reached the bike, its silent engine roared to life in the night.
“Hey, it’s the dullahan.”
“It’s cool and all, but I’m telling you, it’s all CG.”
Karisawa and Yumasaki chattered happily regarding the rider as she overtook them. They’d seen her true powers at close range, but they didn’t seem to appreciate the weight of it all. And it wasn’t just them—a startling number of those who witnessed Celty’s fight took her completely at face value. Either the sheer force of her presence was so overwhelming that it lost all reality and became a dream to them, or she was simply accepted as a part of the city now.
Some of the witnesses did write about their experiences on the Net, but they were all roundly laughed off as nonsense. Thanks to that response, opinion started to shift to explain that night’s meeting itself as just a tall tale, and so the Dollars’ profile didn’t just explode like it might have. That was probably for the best, seeing as the extra attention would also be coming from the police and yakuza.
However, the events of that night most certainly registered deeply into everyone who was present.
“Why do you suppose he showed up there?” Kadota asked from the front passenger seat without turning around.
“Did you know the Black Rider’s actually a member of the Dollars?”
“What? You serious?!”
“I never heard that! So that’s why he showed up and went so crazy!”
“Awesome! The Dollars must be, like, invincible by now!”
Kadota closed his eyes as the two in the back chattered away. He thought back to what Izaya had said as he left the scene.
“Dotachin, I just met the boss of the Dollars. Do you know what the team name came from?”
“Like, give us dollars or something?”
“Nope. Basically, the group doesn’t do anything. And yet, you continue to sell the name. Nothing more. It’s named the Dollars after the adjective dara-dara, meaning ‘lazy’ or ‘pointless.’ That’s all there is to it.”
There was no actual structure to the group. The Dollars organization was nothing more than a castle wall—it was the people within that built the kingdom on their own. The rest came down to how big of a facade they could hang outside those walls.
The outside left a name on its own, whether there was anything inside or not. Just like a human being.
Kadota looked at the show playing out ahead of them and grinned wryly to himself.
Just like the Black Rider.
The black motorcycle evaded the police by riding on the side of a truck as though it were the street. As the policemen’s eyes went wide, a man with a TV camera jabbered away excitedly. He was clearly airing live footage of the chase in progress.
Celty noticed he was there but showed no hesitation in producing a blade from her shadow. It was the largest of any she’d created so far, a giant sickle nearly ten feet across. She swung it back—and howled into the night.
Film me if you want. Expose me if you want. Burn the image of this monster into your minds. But what does it really amount to?
This is my life. The path I’ve been on for a long time. I have nothing to be ashamed of.
She did not hold her breath in the darkness, but let it shine, exhibiting herself unbound by good or evil.
The ordinary days were devoid of extreme hope or despair. Nothing changing. But overflowing with satisfaction and fulfillment.
As she swung the giant scythe at the black bulletproof vehicle, Celty realized something.
Since the night that she exposed all that she was, everything about the city seemed so much more beloved to her.
/>
Perhaps even more than her missing head…
One of the windows rolled down, and a man inside the car shot at Celty.
The bullet split the helmet and passed inside of it.
In the midst of that empty space—the shadow smiled.
AFTERWORD
Hello. It’s nice to meet you—or perhaps, to see you again. I’m Ryohgo Narita.
Thank you very much for picking up my new book, titled Durarara!!
It’s an extremely strange title, I admit, but if you read the book, you’ll understand…perhaps. As I was finishing up writing and revising the manuscript, my editor said, “It’s about time for us to submit an official title to marketing,” and the first thing I came up with was—
“Du…Durarara?”
My editor said, “Actually, I like how mysterious that is. Let’s go with that. But how do you want to handle the English spelling?”
I had no answer because I didn’t expect him to accept it. Then, he asked, “Will you throw in an exclamation mark like Baccano! or Bow-wow! have?”
I still had no answer because I still didn’t expect him to accept it. So I said without thinking, “Let’s put two on there. Bam-bam!”
After a long silence, I heard the scratching of someone writing on paper, then my editor exploded with laughter on the other side of the phone.
“Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! When you write this out, it looks so stupid! Let’s go with that, then!”
That was the birth of Durarara!!—but as for what it means, I’m still not quite sure.
So, as for why I chose the location of Ikebukuro as a setting, it wasn’t to piggyback on a popular destination in novels and dramas, but because it’s the place I understand most of all.
The depictions of Ikebukuro and Shinjuku in this novel aren’t meant to be objective but are wildly fictional, so people who haven’t been there, don’t believe any of it. And if you have been there, don’t just slam the book down and call me a liar, but enjoy it as a work of fiction. The same goes for the depictions of gangs and mobsters. Whew! That should throw off all the people saying, “This guy acts like he knows what he’s talking about,” “Don’t mess with gangsters, man,” or “Come see me late night in Ikebukuro, bro.”
Durarara!!, Vol. 1 (novel) Page 18