Durarara!!, Vol. 9

by Ryohgo Narita

  “All right, enough horsing around!” came a shout from the pool monitor. That prank hadn’t escaped his notice.

  “We’re sorry!”

  “…Apology…” [I’m sorry.]

  “Uh, s-sorry… Wait, it wasn’t my fault. I was the victim!”

  After all three of them apologized, Aoba removed his completely drenched shirt and laid it out next to the pool, then gave Mairu and Kururi his meanest side-eye.

  “To think I trusted that you weren’t the kind of person to play such pranks, Kururi.”

  “When we play pranks, we play them together.”

  “Same…” [Exactly.]

  “So are you just excited about being at the pool during summer vacation, Kururi?” he asked.

  She answered by way of descending into the water again. The two girls took positions surrounding Aoba.

  “W-wait! I’m getting out, I’m getting out,” he protested, trying to get away from them, but they each grabbed a hand as he reached for the lip of the pool and dragged him back into the water.

  “You know you love this, Kuronuma. Stop trying to hide how excited you are.”

  “…Fondness.” [That’s so cute.]

  He was a weak-willed boy being humiliated by girls, but all the male classmates who passed by the pool looked at him with envy.

  “Hey, Aoba, what’s the deal? Are you actually going out with those two?” one of them called out.

  “They’re just playing you, dude.”

  “Kuronuma doesn’t have the guts to go out with a girl,” they mocked, to hide their naked jealousy. None of them had girlfriends, obviously. But they were completely correct, and Aoba had no response.

  He was a bad guy—he’d created the Blue Squares, brought Mikado into them, and plotted to use the Dollars for his own ends—but he had almost no experience interacting with girls, even as friends. He was completely out of his element with these twins.

  But his classmates had no idea about that or his secret side, so the only thing they muttered about among themselves was “Look at that lucky wuss, getting along with those hot twins.”

  “Damn, I’m so freakin’ jealous.”

  “Should we go somewhere else to look for girls?”

  “You know, I heard a story about some upperclassman from Raira hitting on all kinds of girls around town last year.”

  “Yeah, I saw him a lot when I was in middle school. I hear he dropped out, though.”

  “Really?”

  “It was about him eloping with a girl or something.”

  “You sure? I heard he got a job so he could save up for their wedding.”

  “In any case, I’m jealous. They’ve got girls.”

  “…This is getting sad.”

  Their attention gradually transitioned away from Aoba, and they trudged off to the locker room to change. Aoba watched them go, then dunked his head into the water and exhaled, cooling both his body and mind.

  …And hoping that the girls on either side of him wouldn’t melt the core of malice at the center of his being.

  Tokyo

  “…So you can see what a problem I’m stuck in. They’re both majorly hot. I was so tempted to just give up on everything and dive right into Kururi’s ample chest.”

  “I’ll kill you!” the tall boy snarled into the phone, grinding his teeth.

  However, on the other end of the line, Aoba was totally undisturbed.

  “I’ve heard you say ‘I’ll kill you’ so many times, I’m bored of it, Yoshikiri. Besides, they’re both gunning for Yuuhei Hanejima, got that? And not as groupies—they’re dead serious. I guess knowing the guy’s brother makes them think they’ve got a decent shot.”

  “Aoba…are you really gonna bring up the name of the one guy who practically defines being a player? Are you doing this to me intentionally?”

  “Save up your rage at successful men for when we destroy Izaya Orihara.”

  “I’m assuming this Izaya Orihara guy really is a player, then.”

  “From what I understand, he had these, like, cultist groupies that followed him around ever since his high school days. And Kururi and Mairu call him stuff like Big Brother and Iza.”

  “…All right. I get the picture. And after you were splashing and giggling it up at the pool with those twins, I’ll kill you along with him.”

  “So you’re going to kill me either way,” Aoba said, snorting. That mirth only fueled Yoshikiri’s irritation further.

  “And you’re just making me mad because you want to die, right? And that’s why you decided to call me?”

  “Nope, that’s not it. After I had lunch with the girls, I did some independent research on something Izaya’s been struggling with lately.”

  “Lunch?! You had lunch…with two girls?!”

  “That wasn’t the point of that statement. Just listen to me. There’s this weird group called Heaven’s Slave that’s selling drugs around Tokyo. They’re squabbling with the Awakusu-kai now.”

  “…Never heard of ’em. So what did you eat?”

  “Russia Sushi. Anyway…Heaven’s Slave doesn’t get around in Ikebukuro, so it’s no wonder you haven’t heard of them. ’Bukuro’s pretty safe as a general rule, and any place that might deal in that sort of stuff is probably running under Awakusu-kai supervision. They’ve got a guy named Akabayashi who’s legendary for his hatred of drugs.”

  “Got it. So you bought these girls lunch, thus putting you into a natural high without the need of chemical assistance. You must be very proud.”

  “Actually, they paid for the food. They’re kind of rich, actually.”

  “They paid! For! Your! Lunch! Wowwwwww! So you didn’t pay for their food, you didn’t even split the bill; you must feel like such a pimp, eh? They paid for your lunch! And then you came running to tell me about it! Wowwwwwwwww! I’m gonna kill ya! Die!”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now, Heaven’s Slave is the name of both the dealers’ group and the product itself. Or at least, that’s my assumption. And to finally get to the point, they’re putting out feelers for Izaya Orihara.”

  “…How do you know that?”

  “There’s a nightclub they’re using as a base right now, and an old friend of mine works there. I was trying to look up something about Izaya, and he happened to have this bit of intel. These guys who normally hang out in a private room at the club suddenly hit the dance floor and started sniffing around for traces of Izaya Orihara.”

  “Hang on. Even you know where they hang out, Aoba. You really think the Awakusu-kai yakuza wouldn’t know that, too? Why haven’t they crushed these guys yet? Or do they have backing from some other mafia?”

  “I don’t know if there are other yakuza involved, but I bet the Awakusu-kai are waiting for the right moment. There’s this guy named Shijima in the group, a college student. His parents are apparently pretty big rollers with weight to throw around. And there’s barely any info out there about the group’s leader. It’d be easy to get that info if you nab Shijima and some of the others and pry it outta them. But it seems like they’re waiting for the right moment to take that step most effectively.”

  “I see. And do we factor into this somehow?”

  “Just watching for now. I don’t know how Izaya Orihara figures into it, but it’s probably best if we shore up our position now, while we have the chance. We can’t just ignore it, obviously, so we’ll be watching with maximum vigilance.”

  “All right. Die.”

  “Now you’re not even justifying your death threats with a logical reason, Yoshikiri… But anyway, the point is, there’s some weird stuff afoot. From what I hear, even the remnants of the Yellow Scarves are acting funny.”

  “Sure it’s not your older brother pulling some shit again?”

  “No…I’m not talking about the old Blue Squares we had infiltrate them. I mean the guys we were beefing with back then.”

  “Oh, those guys. The time that we were around seventh or eighth grade, right?”

  “Y
ou used to brawl it up with high schoolers back then, Yoshikiri. And you almost never lost.”

  “The ridiculous thing is that for being older than me, they were so much weaker. Seniority’s an urban legend, man.”

  “That’s not how the word seniority works, but whatever. Actually, I’m amazed you even know that word. Who’d you hear it from, your grandma?”

  “…I’ll kill you!”

  “I’m telling you, you’re really bringing down the value of the death threat, Yoshikiri. I’ve heard it so many times, it doesn’t frighten me anymore. Why do you have such a small vocabulary anyway? Don’t you know any words other than I’ll, kill, you, and seniority?”

  “…~~~!”

  Yoshikiri issued a high-pitched screech of rage, gripping the phone so hard the plastic creaked.

  In the distance, another boy called out, “Hey, Yoshikiri, pass me the phone.”

  “…”

  “I’m done over here. He’s the only one left.”

  Yoshikiri ground his teeth one last time, then tossed the phone to his companion…

  …and with his other hand, he blocked an incoming metal bat.

  “Hello? Hey, it’s me. You know me. Wire me some cash, will ya?” joked the other boy into the phone.

  “Oh, hey, Gin,” Aoba replied. “Where’s Yoshikiri?”

  “He’s finishing off the last guy,” said the boy named Gin as he watched Yoshikiri put the heel of his shoe through the front teeth of a rough-looking guy. “He’s so talented, man. How is he able to fight and talk on the phone at the same time?”

  There were a number of other young men on the ground around Yoshikiri, either unconscious or writhing in pain. He’d taken on all of them with one hand, two feet, and one forehead during his conversation with Aoba.

  “And it was all I could do to handle just three of them. But hey, we weren’t able to be around during that whole stalker incident. It’s a shame to the Blue Squares’ name that the one stalker took down so many of our guys. I can’t believe it.”

  “C’mon, don’t take it that way. That stalker was way tougher than he had any right to be. I’m more concerned about that Yellow Scarves guy who took out two of our own elsewhere.”

  “That’s embarrassing, too. Two-on-one, and we lost? When your family gets shown up, so do you. That’s why me and Yoshikiri are out for blood this time, to make up for it. I put out the call for our best muscle to roll over the competition today, and you know what happens? The Nitari brothers wanted to watch some anime, Neko’s with his girl, and Houjou’s asleep. So it was up to just the two of us to do all the damn work.”

  There were more victims at Gin’s feet, but he had blood trailing from his temple, too. It seeped down onto the cell phone.

  Aoba didn’t sound particularly concerned. “Yeah, Yoshikiri might be a good fighter, but he’s not a good thinker. I’m pretty sure the only word he said over the phone was kill.”

  “What? Why? What did you say to him?”

  “Just that I went to the pool with Kururi and Mairu.”

  “Oh, fuck off and die. And why the hell aren’t you here anyway?” Gin demanded.

  Aoba laughed. “Sure, I’ll die one day. I’m only human. But I’d like to live to be eighty.”

  “Really? You think you’re gonna get to live another eighty seconds?”

  “Why is it that every person in this gang is so unbelievably rude?” Aoba wondered aloud.

  “Hey, just be happy you’ve got someone with you at all. If the real pieces of shit like you didn’t have guys like us around, you’d go antisocial and end up spending the rest of your life behind bars!” Gin accused.

  “I play good at school, so I actually have lots of friends.”

  “Okay. Whatever you say. Die. Shi-ne! If I wrote that in English, it would be S-H-I-N-E!”

  “That’s not English, just English letters. Why would I want to shine and sparkle?”

  “Uh…shine and sparkle from a nuclear reaction inside your body that kills you, bitch! I hope you burn into ash, loser!” Gin’s taunt was like a kid in the schoolyard.

  Aoba sensed that this back-and-forth could last forever, so he decided to get down to business. “So…? How’s Mr. Mikado doing?”

  “Oh, he’s alive. You wouldn’t believe what a wuss he is in a fight. He passed out, so we’ve got him in the car. He’s no better than you or Yatsufusa, actually. I can’t imagine why he wanted to participate in purging the Dollars himself. The boss is supposed to hang back and yuck it up while the muscle does the work.”

  “Actually, I might not be his match in a fight, either,” Aoba murmured happily, mostly to himself.

  “Even I can’t imagine…how he might turn out after all this.”

  After he hung up, Aoba gazed at the scar on the back of his right hand.

  “I really am looking forward to seeing what becomes of you, Mikado.”

  Then he recalled something Gin had just said to him: “…If I didn’t have anyone with me at all…? I don’t want to think about it.”

  An image floated into his head, the brother of the twins he liked—the face of a man he thoroughly disliked.

  “I don’t want to turn out like that piece of shit.”

  He squinted in displeasure, shut his flip phone, and thought—

  Speaking of people hanging around, what’s the connection between that one doctor and Izaya?

  The man in the white lab coat had held a scalpel to Aoba’s throat when he’d tried to make contact with the Headless Rider. He seemed dangerous.

  You’re just like Izaya Orihara, the man had said.

  Aoba reflected on him.

  They’re not…simply friends, I suspect.

  He’d been curious and looked into it once.

  But the answer he found was strange: In middle school, Izaya Orihara stabbed the man who would later be a black market doctor, Shinra Kishitani, in the stomach.

  Usually, that would lead to hatred. To enemies.

  But they say they were in the same high school after that…

  So really, what is their relationship like?

  Twelve years ago, summer vacation, Raijin Middle School, biology classroom

  “I look forward to your accomplishments, Vice President!” Shinra beamed, clapping him on the shoulder.

  Izaya smirked. “I take that to mean you intend to do no work of your own?”

  “Whoever said that? I’m just going to cheer you on.”

  Shinra was sitting in one of the rotating seats in the biology classroom, spinning wildly like it was some kind of toy. They’d established the biology club after all, and the school assigned them to the classroom of the same subject. Shinra was the president, and Izaya was the vice president.

  Their primary activity was cultivating plants, but because it revolved mostly around carnivorous ones, it wasn’t very flashy. Most other students either found the insectivores curious or creepy, and nobody really wanted to be personally involved.

  But there were a few eccentrics who joined at the founding, and they performed upkeep on the plants in rotation, which left each individual with little to do. But that was entirely the point—they’d chosen carnivorous plants that were especially easy to care for.

  Thus, the brevity of time they had to dedicate to the club was second only to those with no extracurriculars at all, and as long as they had containers with actual plants growing in them, no one could accuse them of propping up a fake club for credit.

  But when summer vacation came around, their faculty advisor told them they’d be making a presentation at the school culture festival, so they needed to plan some kind of exhibition now while they had time. Someone had to visit the school to take care of the plants anyway, a duty that Izaya accepted, though they told the school they would be coming on rotation.

  Now, on the first day of summer vacation, they were supposed to have a meeting at the clubroom with all members present. But all the others preferred not to come to school at all and told Shinra or Izaya
on the last day before vacation that they’d let the two bosses handle everything.

  “Since everyone else just ditched us, I guess that means we get to make all the decisions. And since I fully intend to press all the responsibilities onto you, that means you get to call the shots. Good for you!”

  “Let’s see. Here’s my idea: You die right here, then I observe the state of your decomposition and display the results at the culture festival,” Izaya replied. It sounded like something a serial killer would do—but aside from the fact that an individual couldn’t legally do this in Japan, Izaya understood that this was, in fact, a legitimate area of study. There was a research group that placed cadavers in various places and examined the results for science.

  Let’s see, where is it…? he wondered, consulting his memory. To his good fortune, Shinra saved him the trouble.

  “Ah yes, there was a lab at a college in Tennessee that’s attempting that experiment, if I recall. They call it a body farm, don’t they? They receive donated corpses and place them in various environments, then take detailed data from the decomposition, insect festering, and so on. That forensic data helps the police estimate the time of death in murder cases, for example,” he blathered.

  “You’re…rather well acquainted,” Izaya remarked, surprised.

  “Dad’s a researcher for Nebula. He always talks about stuff like that during dinner.”

  “I think I’m beginning to see why your mother left him.”

  “Hey, I didn’t think you remembered that bit from my introduction.” Shinra laughed. He wasn’t upset at all about the crack at his family. Without losing his smile, he followed that up with “But I wonder…what would happen if we didn’t decompose?”

  “Huh?”

  “I don’t mean saponification, when we’re preserved well enough that our body fat just hardens up. I mean, if a dead body stays perfectly pristine, does that mean it can be a proper object of love for other people?”

  What the fuck is he talking about? Izaya wondered. Was Shinra confessing that he was a necrophiliac?