Durarara!! - Volume 1 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: A Regular Day in Town, Noon

Raira Academy was a coed private high school in south Ikebukuro.

Despite its modest size, the campus maximized the utility of its limited space, and therefore, the students did not see it as particularly cramped. Its proximity to Ikebukuro Station made it increasingly popular with people from the suburbs of Tokyo, who could commute to school while still living at home. The school’s ranking and prestige were on a gentle upward climb, so the timing of Mikado’s arrival was actually quite fortunate.

The elevated location gave the campus an excellent view, but any feeling of superiority instantly evaporated upon the sight of the sixty-floor building looming overhead. On the other side of the school was the expanse of Zoshigaya Cemetery, a lonely place for being in the middle of a giant city.

The entrance ceremony was anticlimactically short, and Mikado and Masaomi split off to their own classes for a brief homeroom session.

“My name is Mikado Ryuugamine. It’s nice to meet you.”

Mikado was worried about being teased about his name, but there was no reaction to his introduction. Apparently the people of his generation were even less interested in others’ names than Mikado expected. Despite this, he listened intently to his classmates’ introductions, eager to learn as much as he could about them.

Some cracked easy jokes as they introduced themselves, and some said their names and sat down immediately. Some were already fast asleep, but most interesting of all to Mikado was a girl named Anri Sonohara. She was small for a high schooler, and her pale, pretty face was framed with glasses, but there was a distant air of foreboding about her—not intimidating to others, but one that suggested she did not usually reach out voluntarily.

“My name is Anri Sonohara.”

Her voice seemed to vanish as soon as it hit the air, but Mikado caught its clear inflection perfectly fine. Anri stood out to Mikado among the class because she seemed to be the most removed from reality. All the other people were just plain high schoolers, without any obvious model students or bad boys.

The only other thing out of place was that one person in Mikado’s class was absent. Her name was Mika Harima, but he soon reasoned away her absence by assuming it was the flu.

However, the instant her absence was announced, Anri Sonohara quickly looked over to the empty seat with concern plain on her face.

After that, homeroom ended uneventfully, and he met up with Masaomi, who was in the class next door.

Masaomi still had his daring earrings in, but he didn’t particularly stick out from the crowd. In fact, Mikado seemed to be more noticeable, perhaps because the school allowed regular clothes. They were both wearing the school blazer as instructed for the ceremony, but otherwise they didn’t even appear to be students at the same school.

“Well, we didn’t get to hang out yesterday because of your moving in and getting Internet access and all. I’ll show you somewhere today if you buy me a meal,” Masaomi offered. Mikado had no reason to refuse. Clubs were forbidden from canvassing for new members until later, so they were able to leave campus without being harassed. The Sunshine 60 building loomed in the corner of their eyes as they headed for the shopping district.

Ikebukuro was a mysterious place to Mikado. Each major street seemed to have its own distinct culture; he felt a bewildering new alienation with each and every block.

“Anyplace you wanna go?”

“Uhm… Where’s a bookstore?” Mikado asked in front of a fast-food place at the entrance to 60-Kai Street. Masaomi thought it over.

“Well, if you want books, our best bet around here is Junkudo… What are you looking for?”

“I guess I’d like some manga to read once I get back home…”

Masaomi started walking in silence.

“There’s a place down that way that sells a ton of manga. Let’s go there.”

He made his way to an intersection with an arcade, then turned right. It had yet another totally different vibe than 60-Kai Street, and Mikado couldn’t help feeling like he’d wandered into a different neighborhood again. At this point, it still took all of Mikado’s concentration to get from his train stop to his apartment, and he felt that one wrong turn down an alleyway was a mistake from which he’d never recover to find his bearings.

“It looks like they sell lots of doujinshi here, too.”

Doujinshi. As a resident of the Net, Mikado was not a total stranger to the fan-made manga zines, but he’d never bought one for himself. He remembered some of the girls from middle school squealing over them, but from what he knew based on the Internet, they were all sexually explicit and age restricted to buyers eighteen or older.

“A-are we even allowed inside? Won’t they yell at us?”

“Huh?” Masaomi shot back, completely bewildered. Suddenly, a voice called out to them.

“Hey, it’s Kida.”

“Long time no see!”

“Aha, Karisawa and Yumasaki! Hi.”

It was a boy and a girl. They both seemed extremely pale for people appearing outside in the middle of the day. The boy was spindly with a sharp gaze and he carried a heavy-looking backpack, but he didn’t seem to be preparing for a camping trip, as far as Mikado could tell.

The girl asked Masaomi, “Who’s this? A friend?”

“Oh, he’s a longtime friend. We just started at the same school.”

“So today was your first day of high school? Congrats.”

Masaomi finally got around to introducing the two.

“The girl here is Karisawa, and the guy is Yumasaki.”

“…Ah…umm…my name’s Mikado Ryuugamine.”

The guy named Yumasaki tilted his head when he heard the name. It was incredibly affected and made him look like a figurine. He ignored the confused Mikado and turned to Karisawa.

“Is that a pen name?”

“Why would a first-year high school student introduce himself with a pen name? Are you talking about the kind you use to submit letters to a radio show or magazine?”

“Um, actually, it’s my real name,” Mikado mumbled.

Their eyes widened.

“No way, it’s real?!”

“That’s awesome! That’s so cool! You’re like the protagonist of a manga or something!” Karisawa and Yumasaki raved.

“Geez… You’re making me feel self-conscious.”

“Why would you feel self-conscious, Kida?”

Left out of a conversation entirely about himself, Mikado was at a loss for what to do. Eventually Yumasaki noticed his awkward distance and briefly checked the time on his cell phone.

“Okay, okay, sorry to take up your time. You were heading somewhere, weren’t you?”

“No, we weren’t in any kind of rush,” Mikado responded with a rapid shake of his head, feeling even more self-conscious now.

“No, it’s okay, it’s okay. Sorry for taking up your time, Kida.”

“We’re just off to hit up all the arcades. Are you on a shopping trip?”

“Yes, we’re picking up some manga.”

At this, Yumasaki reached a hand around his back and patted his backpack. “Hey, that’s just what we were doing before this. All the latest Dengeki Bunko titles just came out, so I bought a ton of ’em. About thirty in total, I think.”

He’d heard of the name Dengeki Bunko. That was a publishing label that specialized in light novels and translations of Hollywood movie novelizations. Mikado had even bought some books from Dengeki in middle school, but thirty was clearly overkill.

“Does Dengeki Bunko really put out that many books a month?”

Karisawa cackled and answered, “Don’t be silly! We got two copies of each one for the both of us, plus about ten more to use tonight!”

“Also, I picked up Moezan, the quiz book of burning-hot math problems. With Jubby Shimamoto’s autograph and everything,” Yumasaki boasted. Mikado didn’t understand a single word of what he said and looked to Masaomi for clarification.

“…Just ignore him—think of whatever he’s saying as magic spells. These two are the kind of weirdos who assume that everyone else knows what they know,” Masaomi whispered to Mikado. Yumasaki continued prattling on about even more obscure subjects, but Karisawa noticed the effect it was having on the other two and jabbed her partner’s backpack with an elbow.

“Quit bragging to the norms. We’ll just be on our way. Bye!”

Mikado watched the two shuffle off, then wondered under his breath, “Books to…use tonight…?”

He had no idea what they were going to “use” the books for, but they were already leaving and there was no point in calling them back to ask, so Mikado turned and followed Masaomi to the bookstore.

“Wow, that selection was incredible! I was amazed! That Toranoana place had more manga alone than any bookstore back home!”

“Yeah, there are plenty of places in Ikebukuro where you can find tons of manga, like Animate or Comic Plaza. And if you want anything non-manga, Junkudo’s the place to go. It’s a building about nine stories tall, all books.”

They had finished their shopping at the bookstore and were walking down 60-Kai Street toward the Sunshine building.

“I didn’t realize you knew people like them, Kida.”

“You mean Karisawa and Yumasaki? What, are you saying you thought I’d only be friends with people with bleached-blond hair, piercings, and brains addled from huffing paint? Well, as it happens, those two are plenty weird on their own, but they’re nice if you act cool around ’em.”

“I…see.”

Something about that struck Mikado as weird, but he decided to ignore it rather than press for more information.

“Basically, I poke my head into all kinds of places. Bookstores like that, where to find the cheapest vintage clothes, directions to hole-in-the-wall clubs and bars, even street-side accessory shops—I’ve got a handle on all these things.”

“Seems like you know just about everything.”

“If you can speak about any topic, you can tailor the conversation to mack on any type of girl.”

“Such impure motives,” Mikado groaned. Masaomi grinned and nodded confidently.

Today, Mikado was determined to take in as much of the scenery as possible, and he kept his eyes up as he traveled rather than tracing the ground.

Standing out first and foremost along the street were the huge video screens hanging on the Cinema Sunshine building and the many movie posters lining the adjacent walls. They looked like photos, but Mikado was stunned to realize on closer examination that they were all illustrations fashioned to look like realistic photographs.

He swiveled to see what other stores were around, then caught something more arresting than any building.

“Huh?”

It was just one of the many black solicitors that lined this street—but this one was different.

He was at least six feet tall and covered with thick, ropy muscle that made him look like a wrestler. Even more striking was the itamae sushi chef outfit he wore to entice customers to his business.

Mikado stared wide-eyed, when suddenly the large man noticed him.

“Nice see you again, bro.”

“!?!?!”

Mikado had no idea how to respond. He’d never seen this man in his life, yet was being greeted in the form of a reunion. Just when he thought his smooth sailing in Tokyo was about to come to a crashing end, Masaomi rescued him.

“Hey, Simon! Long time no see! How’s it hangin’, man?”

The large man’s attention switched from Mikado to his friend.

“Hey, Kida. Eat sushi? Sushi good. I make cheap deal. You like sushi?”

“Not today, Simon, I’m broke. I just started high school, so I can start working a part-time job. How about you give me free sushi now, and I pay you back then?”

“No can do. Then I sleep with fishes on Russian motherland.”

“With fishes? On land?” Masaomi chuckled and left the conversation hanging.

Mikado hurried after him, turning back to Simon to see the large black man waving at them. Bewildered and unaware of how to react, Mikado bowed briefly in apology.

“You know that guy, too?”

“Oh, Simon? He’s an Afro-Russian, and he helps draw customers for a sushi place run by Russians.”

Afro-Russian?

“Sorry, which part of that was the joke?”

“No, I’m serious. His actual name is Semyon, but everyone just calls him the English version of that, Simon. I don’t know the whole story, but apparently his parents emigrated there from America. Some other Russian folks he knew were starting up a sushi restaurant, so he works the street, getting the word out.”

None of it sounded real, but there was only pure sincerity in Masaomi’s eyes. It had to be true. Mikado was still wide-eyed in disbelief, so Masaomi added, “He’s one of those guys you’re not supposed to cross. Once I saw him pick up two guys who were brawling off the ground with one hand each, both of them his size. Word says he broke a telephone pole in half once, too.”

Mikado shivered, envisioning that tanklike build again. After a few more moments of walking, he murmured, “This is amazing.”

“Huh? What is?”

“That you can talk to so many different kinds of people, I mean…”

Mikado meant it as an honest compliment, but Masaomi just laughed it off as a joke. He cackled and yawned, shrugging it away.

“Oh no, you can’t butter me up like that.”

“I’m not.”

In fact, Mikado had tremendous respect for Masaomi. If he’d been alone, he would have dried up and shriveled amid the sea of humanity that was Ikebukuro. The people who lived here were not all like Masaomi. Ever since grade school, he’d had a special charm that drew others to him, and he had the assurance to speak for himself in any situation.

How many times had he been blown away by both the neighborhood and Masaomi in just the few days since arriving? Mikado hoped that one day he could be like his friend.

One of the biggest reasons for Mikado’s exodus to the big city was to escape the familiar sights of his world. This was not a tangible thought at the forefront of his mind, but deep within his heart, he was constantly searching for a “new self.” Perhaps in this place, he’d find the “extraordinary” that existed in comic books and TV shows and experience it for himself.

Mikado didn’t want to be a hero. He just wanted to feel a different kind of breeze through his hair. He didn’t realize it himself, but amid that terrible anxiety deep in his gut on that first visit to Ikebukuro was a powerful elation and excitement that fought for control with his unease.

And right next to him was someone who had mastered the fresh breeze of his new home, harnessed that excitement for himself. Even at age sixteen, Masaomi had completely blended into this place and made himself a part of it.

Mikado realized that his friend represented everything that he wanted, and the warring anxiety and excitement lulled as he felt more in control of his surroundings—or at least, they should have.

But in the next moment, all of that was destroyed as a fresh new maelstrom of anxiety and excitement burst into life.

“Hey.”

It was a very pleasant voice, crisp and clear and vibrant, as though being hailed by the pure blue sky itself.

And yet, the instant he heard that voice, Masaomi grimaced as though he’d been shot in the back with arrows. He slowly turned in the direction of the voice, an instant sweat congealing on his face.

Mikado turned the same way and saw a young man with an equally pleasant face. He looked soft and gentle, but with a bold, intrepid edge—a perfect materialization of some ideal of handsomeness. His eyes were warm and all-accepting but glinted with a hard scorn of anything that wasn’t himself. His outfit, while possessing its own personality, did not show off any obvious features or characteristics. All in all, he was very difficult to grasp or classify.

Even his age was indistinct based on appearance alone. He had to be more than twenty at least, but there was no way to tell anything beyond that.

“Nice to see you again, Masaomi Kida.”

Masaomi responded to the use of his full name with an expression Mikado had never seen before and swallowed.

“Ah… H…hi,” he responded awkwardly.

Mikado’s state of mind erupted into chaos. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kida look like this…

Fear and disgust mingled in Masaomi’s eyes, but the muscles in his face were tense, trying to bottle up that emotion.

“Is that a Raira Academy uniform? So you got in. First day of school? Congrats.”

His congratulations were brief and clipped, but not devoid of feeling. He only used the barest minimum of emotion necessary in his voice, however.

“Y-yes, thanks to you,” Masaomi said, a common pleasantry.

“I didn’t do a thing.”

“It’s strange to see you out in Ikebukuro…”

“I’m just meeting some friends. And who’s that?”

The man looked at Mikado, and for an instant, their eyes met. Normally, Mikado would look away shyly, but this time he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He felt as though if he broke that contact, his entire existence would be denied, negated. Mikado didn’t know why he felt this way—the man’s gaze simply held him in place with its breathtaking sharpness.

“Er, he’s just a friend,” Masaomi blurted. Normally he would have said Mikado’s name, but he seemed to be intentionally avoiding that. The man did not seem perturbed by this omission in any way. He turned to Mikado.

“I’m Izaya Orihara. Nice to meet you.”

Everything clicked into place for Mikado. The man not to get involved with. The man not to make an enemy out of. But the fellow standing before him didn’t seem all that dangerous. Aside from his sharp gaze and handsome features, he seemed like any other young man. Even his plain, glossy black hair stood out amid all the bleached and dyed hair around him. He looked like the kind of sharp young man that would be teaching at a cram school out in the country somewhere.

He’s more normal than I expected, Mikado thought, and decided to introduce himself.

“Sounds like an air conditioner,” came Izaya’s response, without mirth or surprise. He seemed to be referring to the Kirigamine appliance brand. Mikado opened his mouth, unsure of whether or not he should say something to continue the conversation, when Izaya raised a hand.

“Well, it’s time for my meeting. Gotta go.”

And with that, he left. Masaomi stretched and inhaled a deep breath, watching Izaya’s retreating back.

“C’mon, let’s go. Uh, where were we off to?”

“Is he really that scary?”

“Scary might not be the right word… See, I got into my share of trouble in middle school…and I ran into him once, and it really scared me. It’s not like a yakuza thing—he’s just unstable. He’s unpredictable. His motives and beliefs change every five seconds. The fear he inspires isn’t one of danger…it’s more like he makes me sick. One of those creepy-crawly feelings that sneaks up on you. I’m never going to the other side again. If you ever wanna smoke ganja or whatever, don’t look to me for help.”

Ganja. Mikado shook his head abruptly. He’d never seen it in person, but he’d been on the Internet long enough to know exactly what that was.

“I’m just kidding, man. You’re the kind of guy who won’t drink or smoke until the legal age at twenty. Just stay away from him and Shizuo Heiwajima. That’s rule number one.”

Masaomi clearly didn’t want to say another word about Izaya, so they kept walking in silence for a while. Mikado had never seen Masaomi like this before. More than Izaya, it was Masaomi’s attitude that had piqued his curiosity.

Maybe there’s no limit to the kind of extraordinary things I can experience here, Mikado thought. It was a stretch from what prompted the notion, but he could feel his excitement and expectation growing from within.

It had only been a few days since Mikado came to Ikebukuro. But already, the phrase return home had disappeared from his dictionary.

Those crowds of people, which had seemed so artificial and inorganic, now looked like processions of saints bringing life and prosperity to the town.

Something fascinating is going to happen. I can feel it. The adventure I wanted is just around the corner. This is a place where those TV shows and comic books come to life.

His eyes sparkling with this misguided thought, Mikado found hope and excitement in his life ahead.