Chapter 2: Headless Rider, Objective
Center gate, Tobu Tojo Line, Ikebukuro Station, Toshima Ward, Tokyo
“I want to go home,” the boy mumbled.
The statement was far too simple to encapsulate the myriad conflicting emotions he felt, but there was no other way to express his overall sentiment that directly.
Stretching out before his eyes were people. People, people, people. And more people. Basically people. His vision was overflowing with people as far as he could see. It was just past six in the evening, the time when many people started commuting home from work and school. It wasn’t quite at peak levels yet, but the crowds were easily dense enough to be considered swarms.
He was so overwhelmed by the presence of people crammed into that vast underground space that the boy momentarily lost sight of his purpose for being there.
A salaryman bumped him with a shoulder. He started to apologize on instinct, but the man was gone, barely even conscious of what had happened. The boy bowed his head and mumbled an apology to no one and made his way over to one of the pillars a distance away from the gate.
The boy, Mikado Ryuugamine, felt a curious fluttering deep in his gut and decided that it came from anxiety. Despite his imposing name, there was weak-willed worry plain as day on his face.
It was his first-ever trip to Ikebukuro on the invitation of an old friend. To be more precise, it was his first trip to Tokyo at all—not just Ikebukuro—in his sixteen years of life.
He’d never been outside of the town where he grew up, and he’d stayed home for his class field trips in both elementary and middle school. He knew it was no way to go through life—and then he got accepted at a private high school in the Toshima Ward of Tokyo. It was a brand-new school built just a few years ago and was only a bit above average in school rankings, but it boasted one of the nicest campuses in the city. He had the option of going to school locally, of course, but it was his dream to live in the big city and an invitation from a childhood friend who moved away years ago that convinced him to make the leap.
This friend might have transferred away during elementary school, but Mikado had the Internet already at that age, and they chatted online nearly every day once in middle school. They hadn’t seen each other in person during that time, but they weren’t distant in any real sense.
Mikado’s parents weren’t used to the Internet, and the invitation of someone their son hadn’t seen since elementary school was not a satisfactory reason to send him off to Tokyo. They didn’t mention this, but they probably would have preferred to send him to a cheaper local public school. They argued, but Mikado convinced them by saying he’d raise his living funds outside of tuition by working jobs, and at last he was allowed to start a new chapter of his life in a new place.
“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake…”
He was feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of people that would never bother to acknowledge his existence. He knew this was an illusion he himself was creating, but it was hard not to wonder if he would ever get used to this sensation.
After about the fifth sigh, he heard a familiar voice.
“Yo, Mikado!”
“?!”
He glanced up with a start to see a young man with his hair dyed brown. There was still a youthful softness to his face, which clashed somewhat with his hair and pierced ears.
Mikado was afraid he’d already been singled out for a shakedown or some kind of scam, then belatedly realized the person had called him by name. He glanced closer at the stranger and began to recognize the features of an old friend.
“Wait, um…Kida?”
“You have to ask? Okay, multiple choice: three answers. Am I, one, Masaomi Kida, two, Masaomi Kida, or, three, Masaomi Kida?”
For the first time since reaching Ikebukuro, Mikado smiled.
“Wow, Kida! Is that really you?”
“Thanks, just ignore the joke I spent three years crafting… Anyway, good to see you, man!”
“We were talking in chat just yesterday. Sorry, you look so different, I couldn’t be sure it was you. I wasn’t expecting your hair to be dyed! Also, that joke sucks.”
Though they talked nearly every day online, there was no way for him to know how his friend’s face had changed over the years. His voice was lower now, so it was little wonder he failed to recognize it at first.
Masaomi Kida smiled shyly and objected, “Well, it’s been four years. And it’s not that I’ve changed too much; you haven’t changed enough. You look exactly the same as you did in elementary school…and don’t slam my jokes.” He smacked the top of Mikado’s considerably more-youthful head a few times.
“Ack, knock it off. As if you’ve ever been shy about telling bad jokes in chat…”
Mikado swatted away his hand but wasn’t really upset. First in school and later in the chat room, Masaomi had always been the one pulling Mikado along, and Mikado had never had a problem with that arrangement.
With their greeting out of the way, Masaomi started off through the crowd.
“Shall we take this outside, then? Go west, young man! Psych—we’re heading for the Seibu exit, not the west exit. The trickster guide strikes again.”
“Oh, I see. So what’s the difference between the west exit and the Seibu exit?”
“…That joke fell flat.”
Just from his short stroll with Masaomi, Mikado’s fear of the crowd was already easing. Simply walking with another person who knew the town, an old familiar friend, made the sights of the big city vastly different in Mikado’s eyes.
“See, outside of Ikebukuro Station, the Tobu (East Tokyo) Department Store is at the west exit, and the Seibu (West Tokyo) Department Store is at the east exit… Ugh, is there anything sadder than having to explain a failed joke? What does that make me?”
“Probably an idiot.”
“…You’ve got a really sharp tongue, man,” Masaomi grunted, grimacing as though he’d just chewed on a caterpillar. He sighed in resignation and muttered, “Whatever. Out of respect for myself, I will overlook that one. So, anything you wanna see in particular?”
“Well, like I mentioned in chat, I’d like to see Sunshine…”
“Right now? I mean…I’m fine with that, but you’ll have a better time with a girlfriend.”
Sunshine 60 was famous for once being the tallest building in Japan. Even after that record was broken by Tokyo City Hall and Landmark Tower, it was a bustling leisure destination, packed with students and families on the weekends thanks to its aquarium and the Namja Town amusement park.
He knew it was a lame answer, but Mikado couldn’t think of any other place to go. Well, there was one place, something he recognized from a famous television show.
“Hey, what about Ikebukuro West Gate Park…?”
“Oh, I watched that show, too. Got the novels, the manga, everything.”
“I’m not talking about the show, I mean the actual West Gate Park.”
Masaomi looked stunned for a moment, then laughed in understanding.
“Oh, just call it Nishiguchi Koen in Japanese like normal.”
“Huh? But…I thought all the Ikebukuroites called it by the English name.”
“What’s an Ikebukuroite? So what’s up, you wanna go there?” Masaomi asked, stopping in his tracks. Mikado shook his head.
“N-no, let’s not! It’s almost nighttime! The color gangs will kill us!”
“Easy, buddy, don’t act like it’s some life-and-death matter. It’s only six o’clock, for crying out loud! I see you’re still a total coward.”
Masaomi smiled exasperatedly and escorted Mikado through the crowd. It wasn’t as dense here as it was outside of the ticket barrier, but it was still difficult for Mikado to maneuver without hitting anyone.
“There aren’t as many color gangs anymore. There used to be a lot more of them you’d see around last year, but there was a big war with Saitama, and a few dozen of ’em got locked up. After that, anytime you got a few people wearing the same color together, the cops would rush ’em real quick. Plus, even at night, there’s nothing crazy going on until at least after all the office workers and salarymen head home. The only exception is the big groups, like the bosozoku motorcycle gangs. Sometimes you see articles or news pieces on how they got into a big battle with the cops. Not here, but over in Kabukicho.”
“Bosozoku!”
“But they’re not gonna be hanging around the station at this hour is what I’m saying.”
Mikado heaved a sigh of relief. “So is Ikebukuro safe these days?”
“I really only know half of what goes on, so this is partly guesswork. There are lots of color gangs and bikers around still, and there’s plenty of dangerous stuff aside from them. Plus, even when it comes to ordinary people, there are some you can never mess with. Then again, you’re not the type to go mad dogging people and picking fights. Just watch out for the pimps and shady businessmen and stay away from the thugs and bosozoku, and you’ll be fine.”
“I see.”
Mikado couldn’t help but wonder about the people “you can never mess with,” but he didn’t question Masaomi any further.
They headed down a narrower tunnel and onto the escalator leading up to the surface. Mikado glanced around and noticed enormous posters covering the entire wall. They featured various things—jewelers, upcoming movies, even a manga-style illustration of a girl.
When they reached the top of the escalator and exited onto the street, the air was still packed tight with people, and only the backdrop had changed.
Amid the unchanging sea of humanity, people in Windbreakers handed out tissue packets with business advertisements on the outside. Some handed them only to women, while others were less discriminate in their targets. Some of those who distributed only to men were very clearly singling out those worthy of their benefaction—Mikado was solidly ignored.
The crowds themselves were made up of a variety of people, from salarymen to the young and underemployed, teenage girls, even foreigners. But the crowd was not perfectly mixed; each type seemed to cluster with others of its ilk, forming distinct territories. Occasionally a person from one territory would venture forth and call out to a person of a different type. Even these sights were pushed along in the sheer wave of moving humanity.
This was a familiar phenomenon to Masaomi, but everything about it was exciting and new to Mikado. There had never been a sea of humanity like this back home, even at the largest shopping mall. He was witnessing a world he’d only ever seen on the Internet or in comic books.
When he related this to Masaomi, his friend laughed and said, “Next time I should take you to Shinjuku or Shibuya. Harajuku would be pretty good, too, if you want a real culture shock. There’s also Akiba…but if you just want to see crowds, how about we hit up a racing track?”
“I’ll pass,” Mikado said politely. They’d exited onto one of the main roads. Cars raced busily down the multilane street, and there was a much larger road blocking the sky above them.
“That up there is the Metropolitan Expressway. Oh yeah, and the street we just took here is called Sixtieth Floor Street. There’s also a Sunshine Street, but be careful not to get confused, because the Cinema Sunshine is actually on Sixtieth Floor Street. Dang, I should have shown you around that area since we just passed it.”
“It’s okay, we can do that another time,” Mikado said. He was so distracted by the incredible crowds that he was failing to take in the sights of the city. At this rate, he’d never be able to get to Sunshine on his own from the station.
While they waited for the light to change, Masaomi looked back at the way they’d come and muttered, “I didn’t see Simon or Shizuo today. I bet Yumasaki and Karisawa are at the arcade, though.”
“Who?” Mikado asked automatically, though he knew Masaomi was just talking to himself.
“Uhh, Yumasaki and Karisawa are just people I know. Simon and Shizuo are two of those guys I was telling you about earlier—the ones you don’t mess with. But as long as you lead a normal life, you don’t need to speak to Shizuo Heiwajima, and if you see him, your best bet is to run away.”
Based on this statement, Mikado decided that Masaomi did not think highly of this Shizuo. Masaomi didn’t offer anything else on the subject, so Mikado did not prod him further; instead, he asked about something else that was bothering him.
“These people you’re not supposed to make enemies with—it sounds like something out of a comic book. Who else is there?”
It was an innocent question from a young man who looked like a boy, but Masaomi thought hard, looking up at the sky for answers. Finally, he declared his answer.
“First of all, there’s me!”
“…Square root of three points.”
“Square root?! What do you mean, square root?! If you’re gonna blast me, at least go for an easy-to-understand joke like minus-twenty points! Are you saying my jokes are too hard to understand for kids who don’t know how square roots work?! The instant I warn you, you make an enemy out of me! Since when were you such a dunce? Is it our education system? Has the system changed you, man?!”
“An unexpected downfall,” Mikado replied without batting an eye to cut off Masaomi’s spiel. He must have realized how obnoxious his monologue was getting as he continued in a serious tone this time.
“Hmm…there are a few. Obviously, you want to stay away from the yakuza and gangsters…but just in terms of people you might realistically come into contact with, there’s the two I just mentioned and a guy named Izaya Orihara. He’s bad news—you don’t ever want to mess with him. He’s from Shinjuku, though, so you’ll probably never see him.”
“Izaya Orihara…what a weird name.”
“Coming from you?” Masaomi laughed.
He couldn’t deny that one. Mikado Ryuugamine was an extremely overwrought name meaning “Emperor of the Peak of Dragons.” In the past the family name had been a prestigious one, but his parents were plain old office workers. He didn’t know much about the family finances, but if they were sitting on some sizable inheritance, they probably wouldn’t have raised a fuss about his private school plans.
His given name was the part meaning “emperor” and was supposed to speak of a grand future, but the other kids in elementary school just made fun of him. People got used to it, though, and it never developed into full-blown bullying.
But unlike his school back home, where each grade only had one class with the same people in it, he was about to join a group of complete strangers in a totally new location. Would they see him as a man worthy of his name?
Probably not, Mikado thought.
Masaomi sensed his apprehension and tried to cheer him up.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s a little fancy, but it’s not a bad name. As long as you act like you own the place, no one can complain that your name doesn’t suit you.”
“…Yeah. Thanks,” Mikado replied. The light turned green.
“Oh, speaking of guys you shouldn’t mess with…you should steer clear of the Dollars.”
“…Dollars.”
“Yep. Not the Wanderers, the Dollars.”
“Umm…whatever you say. So what kind of gang are they?” Mikado pressed, now driving the conversation rather than listening passively.
“I don’t really know much about ’em. All I know is there’s a lot of them, they’ve all got a screw loose, and they’re supposed to be a gang. I don’t know what color they rep, though. Then again, like I said, they’re cracking down on the color gangs, so they might have broken up already for all I know.”
“Oh, I see…”
An awkward silence settled between them. They walked across the intersection toward a sharply angled building across the street. There was a stylish automobile displayed inside the ground floor, which melded pleasingly with the striking design of the building itself.
Mikado was gazing at the building and its car, lost in thought, when he heard a strange voice.
The moment he heard it, Mikado thought it was like an animal roaring. But upon more careful consideration, it came from the middle of the street, far down the road. The next time it sounded, Mikado identified it as an engine. It still sounded like the growl of an animal, but given that it was coming from the street, it had to be the exhaust pipe of a car or motorcycle.
Mikado stopped in his tracks to watch the disturbance, but Masaomi simply watched calmly.
“You’re lucky, Mikado.”
“Huh?”
“You get an up-close-and-personal look at an urban legend on your very first day in the big city.” Masaomi’s face was expressionless, but there was a glint of hope and excitement in his eyes.
Speaking of which…
Mikado recalled other times that Masaomi’s eyes had reflected that light. When he spotted a plane flying over the school in the middle of class. When he found a tanuki wandering onto the school grounds. Little occasions when the out of ordinary intruded upon the typical day.
He was unsure of how to get Masaomi’s attention, when—
The being appeared before them.
A shadow in the shape of a person riding a pitch-black bike without a headlight.
It wove through the traffic—and passed by the boys without a sound.
“?!”
After several seconds, the engine roared again. But the next moment, it was once again silent, the only sound the faint screeching of tires on asphalt. It was so quiet that the engine had to be off entirely, but the motorcycle kept running without losing speed—it almost seemed to be accelerating, in fact.
It was a completely unreal thing, as though the area where its sound should have occurred had been cleanly removed from normal reality. Half the people walking along the street stopped, watching the shadow with suspicion.
That’s when Mikado noticed that his entire body was trembling slightly.
It was not fear, but some other kind of emotion that had gripped his body.
I saw something incredible.
The moment they passed each other, Mikado gazed into the depths of the helmet. He couldn’t actually see what was behind the visor, but he also didn’t feel anything like a gaze emanating from the dead, still helmet.
Almost as though there was nothing inside of it to begin with.
Chat room (late night)
—TAROU TANAKA HAS ENTERED THE CHAT—
{Good evening.}
[Evening.]
{Aha, Setton. I saw it today!}
{That Black Rider thing!}
[? Are you in Ikebukuro, Tarou Tanaka?]
{Yes. As a matter of fact, I just moved to Ikebukuro today. I’m logging in from a friend’s house right now, but tomorrow I’ll be living in an apartment next to the station. I’ve already signed up with an Internet provider, so I should be connected to the Net in no time.}
[Well, congrats. Living on your own?]
{Yes.}
[Ah, I see. So did you see the Black Rider around seven in the evening?]
{Oh, you know already? I saw it right outside Sunshine.}
[Yep. I was there.]
{?!}
{Really? Wow, we might have passed right by each other and never realized it!}
[Possibly.]
{Wow! Crazy! I should have mentioned this earlier, then!}
[At any rate, welcome to Ikebukuro. If there’s anything you want to know, don’t hesitate to ask.]
{Thank you very much!}
{Actually, in that case… }
[Yes?]
{Do you know someone named Izaya Orihara?}
{I was talking to my friend, and he said I should stay away from that guy.}
{Is he scary? Oh, what am I saying, you probably don’t know him. Sorry.}
[…]
[Tarou Tanaka, is your friend one of…those people?]
{No, he’s a normal guy.}
[Oh, I see. Sorry. You really shouldn’t mess with Izaya Orihara. He’s seriously bad news.]
<Oh! Good evening, Tanaka!>
{?! Kanra, have you been here all along?}
<I was just on the phone. Oh, I read the backlog, are you here in Tokyo? Congratulations! We should have an IRL welcoming party soon.>
{Oh, no need to go to all that trouble. I would like to hang out in person, though.}
<Yeah, I know.>
<Oh, speaking of meeting in person, you know those suicide groups?>
[Ahh.]
[Those were big last year. They’d meet on the Net and commit suicide together.]
{Eugh, creepy.}
{But I haven’t seen anything about it in the news lately.}
[Either they’re not going through with it anymore, or it’s such old hat that the media doesn’t even bother to report on it.]
<Or else it’s happening all the time, and nobody’s noticed yet!>
{Huh?}
<Like they just haven’t found the bodies.>
{Gahh!}
[That’s ghoulish.]
<But there really have been a lot of disappearances lately.>
{? Is that in the news?}
<I hear a lot about illegal immigrants and runaway children from the country vanishing, mostly from the Ikebukuro to Shibuya area. Some people say the Dollars are catching them and gobbling them up. Hee-hee!>
{So these Dollars really are famous around town.}
<The Dollars are crazy! Apparently they just had a run-in with the Chinese mafia, and when a yakuza got stabbed recently, it was supposedly the work of one of the Dollars’ low-level guys!>
[Where are you getting this information, Kanra?]
<I know someone who knows this stuff. That’s where I get my info.>
{Argh, I wanna know more, but I have to get up early tomorrow, so that’s all for now.}
<Ah, good night, then!>
[Good night, Tarou Tanaka.]
[I have some business of my own, so I’m out as well.]
{Sorry to leave… Oh yeah, and tell me about this Dotachin person next time.}
{So long!}
<Well, I guess that’s it for today. No one else is going to show up.>
<Good night. >
—TAROU TANAKA HAS LEFT THE CHAT—
—SETTON HAS LEFT THE CHAT—
—KANRA HAS LEFT THE CHAT—
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login