Durarara!!, Vol. 9

by Ryohgo Narita

  Why, your skills of observation are first-rate now. You’re right, the part about her being an insurance salesperson was a complete lie. But her name actually is Kujiragi. Don’t worry; she’s not quite like a yakuza.

  “R-really?”

  Yes, really. If anything, you should be thanking me. You were nearly targeted by the Awakusu-kai from two directions.

  “…Huh?”

  Do you remember, back in senior year of high school…when you and I created that little group called Amphisbaena?

  “Y-yeah…the one that was like an extension…of our old middle school baseball betting club. We created it in secret without anyone knowing our identities.”

  Right, that’s the one. And you called yourself Lizard.

  “But that shut down right away…”

  Do you remember how one of the members was a girl who went by Earthworm?

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Of course not. Even I didn’t know about her. Either she was way on the bottom of the totem pole, or she participated in the betting and fantasized about being a member of the group.

  “So what about this Earthworm girl?”

  She took over the Amphisbaena name and started messing around in the Awakusu-kai’s territory. And her gambling operation was way bigger than anything we built back then.

  “…Huh?”

  It was quite entertaining, really. Even though you—as Lizard—were gone from the scene years and years ago, she practically worshipped you. “Owner” this and “Owner” that.

  “Wait, wait, hang on. What are you talking about?”

  Somewhere in her brain, she must’ve thought she was your girlfriend and convinced all her followers of it, too. Claiming that only she could make contact with the club’s owner, and so on.

  “I’m not seeing where this is fitting together!”

  It’s fine; you don’t have to worry. It’s all been solved.

  “It…it has?”

  The most brilliant part of all, though…was that their sworn enemy…was Shijima.

  “What?! Y-you mean…right after we graduated college, when we created that experimental underground club for legal drugs…that Shijima?”

  Yep, Shijima the rich boy. I never showed my face for any of it, but you were kind of like the founder for his support group, using the alias Kumoi.

  “Wh-what did he do now?”

  He created an illegal drug instead of a legal one.

  “…What?”

  And he claimed that it was all on “Mr. Kumoi’s” orders.

  “Wait! Wait, wait! Hold on! You can’t— That wasn’t me!”

  That was a funny reaction. Are you sleepy?

  “No, I’m not! Why is he using my alias like that?!”

  Shijima’s a pretty clever guy, actually. He made himself the number two of the operation, and by undergoing some fictional punishment courtesy of Kumoi, he instilled fear in the other members. They were terrified of Kumoi.

  “…”

  But he was committed, man. He actually drilled holes in his front teeth and scarred up his own arm with the pointer of a dart. At that point, it’s really more like a kind of cultish belief system.

  “I can’t take this anymore. You gotta stop it! What should I do…? Please help me!”

  What do you mean? I did help you. There’s no cause to worry about Shijima anymore.

  “Is that true…?”

  Yeah. So you have nothing to fear.

  Anyhow, with that out of the way, here’s to a long and fruitful relationship.

  “…”

  And if it ends up being necessary…we can just have Shinra change your facial features again. After taking those moles on your cheeks off and tweaking your looks, I doubt that either Earthworm or Shijima would recognize you at this point.

  “What should…what should I do?!”

  You don’t have to do anything.

  “…”

  If you regret any of this, complain to your past self. I’ll call you again later.

  “Uh, f-fine. So long.”

  Bye-bye.

  “…

  “…Aaah.

  “Aaaaaaah! Dammit, dammit, dammit!

  “Why…why do I have to suffer through all this? Why?!

  “What the goddamn hell?! What did I do? What did I do to deserve…? Well, I guess…I did.

  “Why…why did I have…to do that…?!”

  Twelve years ago, last day of summer vacation, Raijin Middle School, biology room

  “So that’s why I think your baseball gambling is a bad idea.”

  “Are you still going on about that? Give it a rest.”

  How long had they been arguing about this? Izaya glared at his club president, obviously annoyed at his tenacity.

  He’d agreed to come to the classroom to take care of the plants during the week of summer vacation for his own reasons. By having a quiet place to hang out regularly, he had the perfect location for running a baseball betting operation.

  Students would come to the biology class, stating a desire to check out the carnivorous plants there. Almost all of them were just saying that as an excuse to come and visit the bookie, Izaya. Thanks to that cover, the operation lasted without teacher interference—until today, the last day of summer vacation, when the club president, Shinra Kishitani, happened to witness the betting in action and continued his persistent argument against Izaya’s plan.

  Shinra Kishitani wasn’t making his argument out of a sense of righteousness. Izaya understood that, too.

  It was more that he wanted to make himself seem like a righteous person, in order for his crush to find him worthy. This annoyed Izaya, who refused to stop his little pet project.

  Shinra wasn’t emotional. He didn’t get angry or sad about it; he just kept making his arguments, ad nauseam.

  “Are you stupid, Shinra? Or are you just some kind of puppet without his own free will, doing whatever your family wants you to do?”

  “I’d happily be a puppet, if it meant I was connected to my beloved by a string.”

  “This is a waste of my time.”

  Truly annoyed now, Izaya refused to continue the conversation for a while. Eventually, the silence was broken not by Shinra or Izaya but by a third party who opened the door to the classroom.

  “…Izaya?” mumbled the boy.

  Shinra smiled and raised a hand. “Hi there, Nakura. Did you come to see our carnivorous plants?”

  The boy with the little teardrop moles beneath his eyes ignored his classmate and walked up to Izaya.

  “…What’s the matter? The book is closed for the day.”

  That alone was enough to identify Nakura as a regular at the baseball betting desk. Shinra looked back and forth between the two, his expression betraying nothing.

  “Hey…could you lend me some money? Pleaaase?” Nakura asked, his face empty and lips trembling.

  “I don’t loan out money.”

  “Then give back all the money I bet up to yesterday… I’m in trouble, man. My dad’s gonna find out I’ve been taking cash from his wallet if I don’t put it all back.”

  “That’s your problem, not mine. I never once forced you to make a bet.” Izaya laughed coldly.

  Nakura’s lips trembled again—and he yanked a little paring knife out of his pocket, holding it up with even more unsteady fingers.

  “…Are you serious, Nakura?” Izaya asked, his eyes narrowed.

  “Give it! I said give it here! Give… Gibback…my money!” Nakura yelled, his demand punctuated by the rattling of his teeth. He could barely pronounce the words; he probably didn’t even fully understand what he was saying. Either way, the boy moved closer to Izaya, step-by-step, the blade held out.

  “Honestly, I can’t imagine there’s anything to gain by giving you that money back. I know you’ve been stalking people who actually won money with me. They’ve been complaining about you,” Izaya revealed.

  Nakura raced toward him.

  “Ju…jus
t give it back! Give it…back!”

  “You’re such an idiot,” Izaya said, just the barest hint of worry in his eyes, and he reached for a nearby chair to prepare for the attack.

  Just when things seemed primed to explode, Shinra jumped in between the two.

  “Waiggah!”

  He was probably trying to say “Wait,” but Nakura neither slowed down nor stopped, even with the other boy in the way. And the impact against Shinra’s stomach turned his command into the word waiggah.

  A side effect of the impact was the sudden introduction of blood to the biology room floor.

  When Nakura saw the blood on the knife in his hand, his face went ghostly white.

  “Uh…wha—? N-n-no—no—no, I…I was only… It was just a threat…to Izaya…,” Nakura stammered, his head shaking, unable to admit what he’d just done. “It wasn’t me— I didn’t— It’s not my— Aah, aaaaaaah!”

  He dropped the knife and raced out of the room. Izaya rushed over to Shinra and saw the spot on his side where the knife hit him. The gash wasn’t so big that his innards would poke out, but there was a gush of blood that left a spreading red mark on Shinra’s clothes.

  “Hang on, I’ll call for an ambulance,” Izaya said, pulling a cell phone from his bag—which was rare at the time—but Shinra grabbed his wrist.

  “First…go to the storage closet…and get the…tape.”

  “Huh?”

  “…That will at least…stop the…bleeding.”

  “…Right.”

  For being stabbed in the gut, Shinra gave orders with easy familiarity. Izaya obeyed and got the tape.

  Shinra used a special wrapping method to seal his gash, then smiled at Izaya. “Ha-ha. I guess being the hero doesn’t suit me, huh?”

  “You probably shouldn’t talk right now.”

  “I thought,” Shinra said shyly, “that if I became a hero…the one I love…might praise me…urgh!”

  “Easy, man…”

  “It’s all right. This isn’t going to be immediately fatal. My organs are all right, and miraculously enough, it didn’t breach the peritoneum…urgh!”

  The sight of Shinra, pale-faced, brought a particular emotion to Izaya’s chest: jealousy.

  He understood that he was meant to observe other human beings. He was always to be in a higher position than the people around him.

  But unlike him, Shinra Kishitani truly was from a different dimension.

  How many people could stand in the way of a rampaging knife not out of instinct, not out of a sense of heroism, but because they wanted to impress someone else? Love is blind, according to the saying, but in Shinra’s case, it was also insane.

  It seemed that his moral core as a person came from a completely different place than all other human beings—including Izaya.

  He was alarmed enough at this moment that he couldn’t accurately understand his emotions as it happened, but upon later reflection, Izaya decided that Shinra viewed humanity from a different dimension. But unlike him, Shinra did not actually love human beings. And still, Izaya envied him.

  A classmate who occupied a dimension separate from those around him, different from even Izaya. And it was this emotion that caused his finger to stop before it hit the button to call the hospital.

  “…Hey, Shinra,” he said, addressing his wounded, groaning classmate with a thin smile. “Do you think…we could say that I stabbed you?”

  “Ow-ow-ow… Huh?”

  “And in return…I’ll spend my entire life making Nakura regret what he did.”

  Twelve years later

  “And what did you say?”

  “Uh, I’m pretty certain I just said, ‘Yeah, sure,’” Shinra replied. He was still prone on the bed.

  “I can’t believe this,” Celty typed, annoyed. “You really were capable of truly dynamic actions, even as a child.”

  “Heh-heh. I just played the goody-goody honor student around you.”

  “Sorry, but you didn’t come off as an honor student, either.”

  “I didn’t?! Urgh!” he yelped, wincing as his broken bones creaked.

  Celty hurriedly calmed him down and wiped the sweat from his neck.

  The scar on his side was a stab wound from a classmate, which Izaya had taken the fall for, and ever since, he’d used the real culprit as his own cat’s paw.

  That was the truth as Shinra had explained it, several days ago, but after further discussing the details today, she sensed that something still didn’t add up on Shinra’s side. The story sounded very appropriate for him, but on the other hand, something nagged at her.

  “And you were fine with that? It must’ve been hard to get along with the very classmate who stabbed you, like nothing ever happened.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t a big deal. I was never interested in him to begin with. But afterward, when I thought about it more, I was furious that he stabbed me. I thought it served him right that Izaya was using him for all he was worth.”

  “…I’m surprised you would feel that way.”

  “Well, if I died from being stabbed…that would be one thing, but more importantly, I couldn’t see you again. So with that in mind, stabbing me is like trying to steal you from me. Of course, I can’t forgive that!” Shinra ranted.

  Celty made another sighing motion with her shoulders and changed the topic to the payment for her recent job. She’d gone around collecting strange chips, intentionally allowed the laptop to get stolen, and protected Izaya’s sister from harm, and apparently, that was all that Izaya needed. He summoned her with a message that said the job had been completed safely.

  Then he gave her a surprisingly hefty envelope of cash, along the information he owed her…

  Jinnai Yodogiri.

  Izaya claimed he was the plotter who sent that stalker after Shinra. It’s hard to believe…but I’ve never known him to be the type to lie in that context. And considering that this man was Ruri’s former agency president, the stalker angle does seem plausible.

  …But what bothers me even more than that… What bothers me…is…

  “What’s wrong, Celty?”

  Shinra’s voice made her snap back to her senses.

  “Er, it’s nothing,” she typed.

  “Are you hiding something from me, Celty?” he asked.

  “Yes, I am,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to tell you what it is.”

  “…That’s not fair, Celty. That leaves me with no options,” he said, screwing up his face like he was going to cry. Then he sighed and favored her with a smile. “It’s fine. I won’t force you to say. Oh, but just to be sure: It’s not that you’re cheating on me, right?”

  “Don’t worry; it’s not that.”

  “Oh, good. I’m not worrying, then. Wow, that bit of relief just made me feel sleepy… Yawn…”

  He closed his eyes and steadily drifted off to sleep. She watched him nod off and felt her heart being constricted.

  She hadn’t been worried about the bit of truth she received from Izaya as payment for her help. The problem was the powerful presence she felt in the moment she got that information.

  It was an unforgettable sensation. The presence of her own head.

  That’s it, all right… Izaya has my head.

  The woman from Yagiri Pharmaceuticals was on the run with her head. Given Izaya’s abilities of information collection, it was very possible he’d already made contact with her and gotten the head.

  That faint sensation she’d always felt around here was incredibly strong at the moment, sharper than she’d ever felt it. It was such a concern to her that she went back to their meeting spot a few hours later, but the sensation of her head was back to being as fuzzy as it had always been.

  So it’s possible Izaya had it there with him! But…for what purpose?

  I can’t trust him. But…if I tracked him down and demanded the head back…what would happen?

  If her head returned, what would happen to her life and memories as they existed right no
w? Would it be like Shinra feared and cause her to forget about everything with him in Ikebukuro and compel her to return to her original duty as a dullahan, never to return to this life again?

  That possibility made Celty more afraid to come into contact with her head than ever before. The only way to keep the fear under control was to gaze at Shinra’s face.

  Shinra.

  She didn’t find the answer she needed, but the sight of him brought deep relief to her conflicted heart.

  When he got attacked, the level of her fury convinced her how irreplaceable he was to her—and her sense of relief now did much the same.

  Celty was reminded of something she’d thought about before.

  Was this the same emotion as what human beings called love? She didn’t know. But she wanted it to be true. She hoped that she and Shinra could be connected by the same emotion.

  And so, without a god to pray to, she prayed to the neighborhood of Ikebukuro instead.

  Ikebukuro, on the street

  “The courier didn’t say anything after all. I’m pretty sure she knew, though.”

  “I know this is only the thousandth time I’ve said this, but…you really are the worst person in the world. I hate that Headless Rider…but in this one case, I feel some sympathy for her. In a sense, she wasn’t the one who seduced Seiji; it was just her head,” Namie said, her voice thin through the phone speaker.

  Izaya rolled his head around and said, “At least the basis for your hatred is crystal clear. But in any case, I knew she wasn’t going to demand it back. My curiosity was toward any possible changes in the head…but there certainly wasn’t anything visible.”

  “This is a joke. You profess to be a lover of humanity, and here you are looking for hope in the world after death.”

  “No, just the opposite. My love for humanity means I want to keep watching it forever.”

  “So you’re God now?” she snapped, exhausted.

  He shrugged. “I said no such thing. I’m not trying to do anything with humanity. I just want to watch it. And in order to keep things interesting, to poke them just a little bit now and then.”