Durarara!! - Volume 1 - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Double Heroine, Sonohara

Several days of high school formalities passed for Mikado, and after the customary health inspection, actual classes were scheduled to begin the following day. At Raira Academy, the opening ceremonies happened on the first day of school, the second was reserved for an introduction to the school’s clubs and activities, and the third was for health inspections and homeroom.

In the midst of the aforementioned post-inspection homeroom, the class decided on who should be their committee representatives.

“I know, let’s go pick up chicks,” Masaomi suggested in the manner of a commercial slogan, smacking his textbook shut.

Masaomi was in Class B, and yet for some reason he was hanging out in Mikado’s Class A. Considering that the majority of students were in uniforms, his personal clothes made him stand out even more.

“What are you doing here?” Mikado finally asked, though he’d noticed Masaomi’s presence minutes earlier. There was no teacher present, so the boy in seat number one was carrying out the proceedings in his place.

“So Mr. Yamazaki and Ms. Nishizaki will be our Beautification Committee members, and Mr. Yagiri and Ms. Asakura will be our Health Committee reps, while Mr. Kuzuhara and Ms. Kanemura are on the Discipline Committee, and for the election monitor…”

It was standard practice for one male and one female student to be chosen for each committee. The proxy leader read aloud each of the selections written on the blackboard, then considered what was left.

“So we’re still missing our class representatives. Any volunteers?”

“Ye—”

Masaomi tried to raise his hand, but Mikado grabbed it and pulled it down.

Class rep. It seems cool, but it might also be a pain in the ass.

What Mikado wanted was an escape from the doldrums. He’d already flown from the familiar sights of his hometown to an exciting new city, and emboldened by the experiences he’d had over the last few days, his desire for thrills was stronger than ever before.

Mikado’s brain, stimulated by the excitement of a new city, couldn’t help but ignore the risks and scream for more.

More chills, more abnormality, more revolution!

Mikado was in such an elated state of mind that he would have fallen for any scams, ripoffs, or cults out to target him. He wouldn’t have thought twice about an invitation from Masaomi to a motorcycle gang meetup.

Despite his unquestioning mind-set, Mikado had enough self-awareness to know that while the special rank of class representative promised new experiences, he also didn’t want to be tied down to too much responsibility.

Maybe it’s best if I just sit back and let this play out…

“…”

One girl raised her hand, her eyes downcast.

It was Anri Sonohara, pale and bespectacled. The beautiful but aloof girl surrounded by an aura that said to stay away.

“Umm, Miss…Anri Sonohara? Let’s put her on the board, then.”

A very disinterested round of applause rose from the class. No one else seemed particularly engaged in the question of who would take what position.

“I’ll let you handle the rest, then,” the temporary leader said, writing Anri’s name on the blackboard and retreating to his seat.

“In that case, is there anyone who wants to be the male class representative?”

Her voice was frail but clear. No one volunteered for the position, and an uneasy silence fell upon the classroom.

What should I do? Mikado wondered as he gazed in a trance at Anri behind the teacher’s desk. Suddenly, her glance fell upon one of the male students.

Mikado followed her eyes until he saw a particularly tall classmate. He was the second tallest in the class, and Mikado recognized him as the one who’d just been elected to the Health Committee.

Seiji Yagiri. That was the name written on the blackboard beneath the Health Committee heading. Aside from his height, nothing about him seemed out of the ordinary. But there was almost nothing boyish left in his face—if he’d been introduced as three years older, it could have been taken at face value.

But if he was already assigned to a committee, why was the girl named Anri staring at him like that? Mikado began to wonder if she might have a thing for him, when…

Her gaze shifted directly to Mikado’s direction.

Huh?

Behind her glasses, Anri’s facial expression suggested concern. Mikado’s heart leaped a beat.

“I’m a sinful man,” Masaomi muttered jokingly the moment Anri’s eyes shifted away. “She’s totally got the hots for me. She’s feeling anxious about the wild, dangerous night ahead of us.”

It was spoken quietly enough that only Mikado could hear. He decided to shoot back a barb of his own.

“Sorry, can you speak Japanese? This is Japan, after all.”

“Damn! Always with the quick comeback! I never realized the danger in my midst was coming from you, my old friend—but I live for the sake of love and won’t hesitate to kill a pal if I must.”

“No hesitation in the slightest?!”

Upon more levelheaded reflection, she might have been looking at the outsider Masaomi rather than Mikado. That might explain the worry he saw. Which raised the question: What was Masaomi doing in that seat anyway?

That’s when he realized what she was really looking at.

The seat Masaomi was occupying belonged to a female student who hadn’t appeared in any of the last three days, starting from the entrance ceremony. He recalled that Anri had been concerned for that student during that very first day.

Mikado silently raised his hand. He had no idea what was running through Anri’s mind, but if no one else was going to volunteer, it might as well be him.

“Oh…um…”

“It’s Ryuugamine. First name, Mikado. Meaning ‘imperial man,’” Masaomi interjected for some reason. Anri dutifully wrote the name on the blackboard. Several members of the class finally noticed Masaomi’s presence, but no one seemed particularly concerned. No use ruffling any feathers—and nobody really wanted to get involved with an unknown student wearing his own clothes, with bleached brown hair and earrings.

In a way, Mikado’s plain appearance and subdued personality made him fit the role of class rep quite well. No one raised any objections, and the process continued uneventfully.

“Well, that’s all the positions—don’t forget to attend your first committee meetings tomorrow. The times and places are written on the board outside the office,” the new class rep read off the printout on the teacher’s desk, bringing a quiet close to the homeroom period.

“We can go ahead and leave after cleaning up. Let’s get to it.”

In the end, Mikado became a class rep without even standing in front of the class. He started on the cleaning process, feeling slightly unfulfilled. As he mopped the hallway floor, Masaomi teased him, leaning against a window.

“Aha, so that’s what’s going on…”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t think you had it in you. Back in elementary school, you’d cry just because someone made up rumors about you and a childhood friend. And somehow you’ve turned into an aggressive hunter on the prowl, looking for love!”

“Oh, that. Whatever,” Mikado muttered, brushing off his friend’s nonsense. “Speaking of which, did you join anything?”

“Yep, the Discipline Committee.”

Mikado tried to imagine his friend being in charge of student behavior. He summed up his thoughts with one word. “Yikes…”

“What do you mean, yikes? Hey, I actually wanted to be class rep, but we needed a ferocious fifteen-man rock-paper-scissors tournament to decide that slot, and I was tragically eliminated.”

“Fifteen volunteers?! In a rock-paper-scissors competition?! Geez, your class was way more into it!” Mikado blurted, openly astonished. Masaomi grinned in satisfaction.

“But there were only six volunteers for Discipline. I dunno about that guy from your class, though; he looks like a real stickler for discipline. I’m hoping to use my position on the inside to tear down the system from within.”

“…What are you talking about?”

“Whatever. Now that I’m on the Discipline Committee, there are no heavy firearms coming onto this campus!”

“But small firearms are okay…?” Mikado murmured, having regained his cool head.

Masaomi stomped his leg with cartoonish disappointment. He looked out the window for a few moments, then turned back with a sense of purpose.

“I know, let’s go pick up chicks!” Masaomi repeated.

“Seriously, are you okay?”

Mikado finished up his cleaning assignment, feeling concern for the old friend who was getting more and more unhinged by the day. He placed the mop in a large storage locker and picked up his bag, walking off with Masaomi—when he noticed Anri Sonohara at the entrance of the building with the tall shadow of Seiji Yagiri. Anri was asking him something, her face dead serious, while Seiji looked annoyed.

“—Then so it’s really seen her?”

“I told you, I haven’t. She just stopped coming.”

Anri’s words were too quiet to make out accurately, but Seiji’s irritated answer was plenty clear. He turned in the direction of the two boys, clearly hoping to brush Anri off. He was in charge of cleaning the entranceway, so his bag was probably still in the classroom.

Anri watched him retreat, then noticed Mikado and Masaomi staring at her. She hastily walked out of the door.

“Whoa, whoa, no need to be putting on a show with this quarrel on the third day of school, young lovers,” Masaomi said. Mikado turned to see that he was already blocking Seiji’s path. The combination of his words and appearance made Masaomi the perfect villain for this scene.

“…What do you want? That wasn’t what you think it is.”

“Umm, you’re Yagiri, right? I’m in the same class as you. Mikado Ryuugamine.”

“Yeah…I remember you. Hard to forget a name like that,” Seiji said, his tension easing as he recognized his class representative. Mikado had stepped in between the two to prevent anything from erupting, but Masaomi pushed him aside to get closer.

“Hey…Kida!”

“You’re pretty fit, dude. Let’s go pick up chicks!”

“Huhhh?” both Mikado and Seiji interjected.

“Kida, what in the world are you talking about?”

“It always helps to have one really tall guy in the group when you go cruising! If it were just you and me, it’d be a zero-sum game—every positive effect of my appearance would be canceled out by the negative effect of yours.”

“That’s mean! Why don’t you just invite someone from your class?”

“You idiot, if I did that, I’d have like twenty boys and girls coming along!”

Mikado was about to ask why girls would be tagging along for a pickup run when Seiji interrupted. He was no longer irritated the way he was earlier, though he didn’t seem to be in a mood to listen to the other two bicker, either.

“Sorry, but I’ve already got a girlfriend.”

That ought to have been the clincher, but Masaomi was not to be deterred.

“As if that matters!”

“Uh, yes it does!” Mikado interjected, but Masaomi paid him no attention.

“I don’t care about the presence or absence of any girlfriend—just talking to another girl doesn’t make her your girlfriend, so there’s no issue of cheating whatsoever!”

“Huh? Really?” Mikado asked, momentarily swayed by the flood of Masaomi’s logical barrage. Seiji was unaffected in the slightest, however. He simply shook his head quietly.

“No way. Even thinking about another girl is an act of betrayal.”

“Well, aren’t you a bastion of integrity? So you can’t possibly betray your girlfriend?”

“It’s not my girlfriend I’d be betraying.”

“Huh? Then who?” Masaomi asked.

Seiji looked into open air, his eyes full of light and purpose. “Love.”

“Pardon?”

“I would be betraying the love I send to my girlfriend. I could betray her, but I can’t betray my love.”

Silence.

“Uh…okay, dude.”

An uncomfortable pause enveloped all three, but Seiji’s expression didn’t change in the least. The glory of belief and certainty shone in his eyes.

“Well, um…good luck with that!”

Masaomi offered him a hesitant fist, and Seiji bumped it back with a brilliant smile.

“Yeah, thanks!”

He headed off to the classroom without another word. Masaomi watched him confidently stride away and muttered, “Looks like you’ve got a real hothead in your class, too.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“This is pathetic.”

They were at the famous Ikebukuro West Gate Park—as seen on TV!—but for the middle of a weekday, it was virtually barren. Mikado had absolutely zero intention of playing along with Masaomi’s flirtation mission, but he was interested in taking a closer look at the place he’d seen on television so many times.

It was indeed the locale he recognized, but Mikado soon realized that seeing it in person was a completely different experience. The location was the backdrop for news broadcasts, TV dramas, and variety shows, but each program gave it a different feeling.

Impressed with how editing and presentation could create such different impressions of the same place, Mikado watched Masaomi do his thing. It was exasperating.

Masaomi couldn’t find any high school girls his age, so he had to resort to hitting on the office ladies who walked through the park on their lunch breaks. Of course, no working adult (on their break) was going to sit around and entertain the advances of a teenage boy. The sight of his desperate, futile attempts was kind of touching in a way.

When Mikado relayed this to Masaomi after he took a short break, his friend grinned and replied, “What do you mean? The goal is just to talk to women, and I’m succeeding with flying colors! Besides, calling things desperate or futile is the last thing you should do when talking to women! When you’re around a beautiful woman, the only thing that ensures your actions are desperate or futile is thinking that they are. You get me?”

“I don’t get you at all,” Mikado muttered and stretched lazily. There was no point to just sitting around here all day, so he decided to head somewhere he wanted to go. “I’m going over to 60-Kai Street on my own.”

“What? You think you can pick up chicks without a wingman? When did you turn into such a lady-killer?”

“I’m not going to pick up chicks.”

But Masaomi wasn’t listening. He jabbed a finger at Mikado’s face and leered, “You’re going to be reduced to tears over the loss of my skills soon enough! You’re gonna wind up getting played by one of those ganguro girls who don’t realize that the overtanned look was out of style years ago!”

“What does any of that have to do with your skill?!”

“Shut it, shut it, let your mouth be a door and shut it! Let’s have a competition! We’ll see who can pick up more girls, me or you!”

“Seriously? You’re gonna hit on girls while trailing an entourage of girls you hit on?”

Masaomi ignored him and started sprinting toward the station. Within moments, he was calling out to a housewife with her child and shopping bags.

Mikado let out his deepest sigh of the day and headed to the east exit of the station on his own.

It wasn’t a perfectly straight line, but he did manage to reach 60-Kai Street with relative ease. This point actually wasn’t that far from his apartment. Mikado planned to wander around checking out stores until nightfall, then head straight home. If Masaomi was still the same person Mikado remembered from elementary school, he’d forget about the silly competition and go home soon.

When they were seven, Masaomi was “it” in a game of hide-and-seek, and he left to go home in the middle of the game. When Mikado finally returned home that night in tears, Masaomi was there in the house. With his cheeks full of Mikado’s dinner, he said, “Found ya.”

Now that I think about it, we had our share of adventures back in that town. I wonder when those stopped happening.

There was nothing particularly interesting to relate from middle school. It was just a very long succession of safe, boring days.

Mikado dreamed of the outside world but had no reason to leave his hometown. He’d been stuck in an unchanging situation—until the day his family got an Internet connection, and his world changed forever.

Now there were endless worlds at his fingertips. He had access to information he would never learn from his ordinary life. It was as though, just on the other side of the world he lived in, a much, much larger world had appeared. And in the new world, there was no such thing as distance.

As he delved further and further into the world of the Net and found himself on the verge of living a shut-in existence, Mikado one day came to an epiphany. He was free to passively receive anything and everything from the Internet—but when it came time to add his own information to that world, there was almost nothing he had to say or share.

When he realized this, Mikado became even more fascinated with the world outside of his town. The picture of Tokyo that Masaomi painted for him shone brighter than ever before.

And now he was within that light. Masaomi claimed that the countryside was where it was brightest now, but Mikado didn’t get that feeling yet. He knew what his friend meant, and he didn’t intend to leave and never look back. But he knew that when nostalgia did register, it would be further on in the future, not now.

Mikado just wanted to savor the taste of the big city and breathe in its air so that it infused with his lungs.

As though he were a part of the city itself.

He spun around to take in more of the scenery and that city air.

Raira Academy uniforms filled 60-Kai Street, and the town itself seemed to be dyed with the color of the outfit.

“They’re almost their own color gang,” he muttered, then noticed a familiar face. “Sonohara!”

He was about to walk over to her when he noticed that she was surrounded by other girls in the same uniform, and there was a prickly tension in the air. They were close to the entrance of a side alley where it met the street, and the three girls had Anri pinned against the wall.

Curious, Mikado carefully approached the alley. None of the four girls noticed him, but he was close enough to make out every word of the conversation. In fact, it was less of a conversation than a one-sided interrogation.

“I hear you think you’re some kinda big shot even without that Mika Harima around.”

“…”

“And now you’re the class rep? What are you, some kinda goody-goody?”

“Why don’t you say something? You were like a barnacle stuck on Mika’s side in middle school.”

The three girls were taking turns verbally abusing Anri, but she showed no sign of reacting to any of it.

Are they seriously bullying her? Do people in Japan still do that?! And those insults are so…clichéd! It’s like they walked out of an old manga!

Mikado found it hard to be intimidated by such stereotypical insults. As a fellow class rep, he knew he ought to step in—but his brain was hung up on the idea of what he should actually do. It wouldn’t really work to pretend he didn’t see anything now, but he also didn’t like the idea of getting on the girls’ shit list.

I know! I’ll walk up with a smile and say, “Why, fancy meeting you here, Sonohara,” as if I don’t realize she’s being picked on! Yes, that’s the plan! And if those girls say anything, I’ll think on my feet.

His idea seemed trapped somewhere between optimism and pessimism, but Mikado was already walking forward…when a hand caught his shoulder from behind.

“?!”

He held his breath and turned around to see a familiar face.

“Stepping in to stop the bullying? Very brave,” said Izaya Orihara, looking interested. He kept his grip but started pushing Mikado forward instead of pulling.

“Uh, what?!” Mikado shrieked, finally drawing the attention of the four girls.

“H-h-hi, Sonohara, wh-wh-what a c-c-c-coincidennnn— Aaaa— Hang on!”

Izaya pushed him right into the midst of the girls.

“Wh-what’s the big deal?” asked one of the bullies, somewhat intimidated. It was meant not for Mikado, but the man behind him, of course.

“You really shouldn’t be extorting people out in broad daylight like this. God might let you get away with it, but the police won’t,” Izaya joked. He continued to approach the girls. “Bullying really is the lamest thing you can do.”

“Like it’s any of your beeswax, old man!” the girls screeched, either because they had finally shown their true colors or as a bluff to hide their fear.

“You’re right, it’s not,” he said, grinning. He delivered the three girls a warning. “It’s none of my business. If you’re beat up and left here to die, that’s none of my business. If I decided to assault you, if I decided to stab you, if you decided to call me, a twenty-three-year-old man, “old,” it would not change the fact that your affairs and mine are eternally unrelated. Every human being has a connection to every other, and yet we are all unrelated.”

“Huh?”

“Human beings are so vapid,” Izaya said enigmatically and took another step toward them. “Look, I’m not really into the idea of hitting girls.”

In the next moment, a small bag appeared in Izaya’s right hand.

“Huh? What?” one of the girls piped up, recognizing the expensive-looking bag. Somehow it had made its way from its customary spot on her shoulder into the man’s hands. The strap, still hanging over her shoulder, was cut clean at the waist.

While the girls were thrown into confusion, Mikado was downright terrified.

In Izaya’s left hand, held behind his back, was a very sharp knife. The scariest part was that Mikado had been watching the man’s movements the entire time, but he never noticed where the knife came from or when he’d slashed the bag free of the strap.

Izaya smartly folded up the knife and slipped it into the sleeve of his suit jacket, all one-handed behind his back. Mikado felt like he was watching a magician at work.

Still grinning, the older man pulled a cell phone out of the little bag.

“So I think I’ll start a new hobby—stomping on girls’ cell phones.”

He tossed her phone into the air. It clacked and clattered on the ground, the case plastered in little stickers.

“Hey, what’s the big—?”

She quickly reached out to pick up the phone…

And Izaya stepped hard on it, just barely missing her outstretched fingers.

With the sound of crunching snacks, broken shards of split plastic appeared under the sole of his shoe. The girl shrieked in horror, but Izaya stomped again and again. The movement was mechanical and precise, hitting the exact same spot over and over. The robotic repetition even extended to his laugh.

“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.”

“Oh my God, I think he’s on something!”

“What a creep! Let’s get outta here!”

The other two dragged off the victim of the phone stomping, who looked on in mute shock. They exited the alley onto the main street and disappeared.

Once he was certain they were gone, Izaya’s laughing and stomping stopped instantly. He turned to Mikado as if nothing had just happened. Anri did not run, but stayed where she was, watching Izaya and Mikado with fright in her eyes.

“I’m bored. I think I’m over the phone-stomping fad,” Izaya said and gave Mikado a gentle smile. “It’s pretty brave of you to help someone being bullied. Most kids these days wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh…?”

Anri looked at Mikado, surprised. Given his extremely weak and passive attempt to help, and the confusion wrought by Izaya’s grand entrance, Mikado seemed to be trying to forget he’d done anything.

Unperturbed by any of this, Izaya addressed the boy slowly and deliberately.

“Mikado Ryuugamine, our meeting was no coincidence. I was searching for you.”

“Huh?”

Mikado was about to ask what he meant by that when a trash can from a convenience store hit Izaya square on the side.

The trash can fell in place, crashing to the ground with a tremendous clattering.

“Guh!” Izaya grunted, losing his balance and falling to his knees. The metal can hit him straight on, but the impact was from the flat side rather than an edge, so the damage wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

Izaya lurched to his feet and glared in the direction the trash can had come from.

“Sh-Shizu.”

“Iiizaaayaaa,” came a lazy voice. Mikado and Anri slowly turned toward it.

It was a young man with sunglasses. He was wearing a classic bartender’s outfit with a snappy bow tie, like an old-fashioned solicitor for a cabaret club or a hostess bar. The man was quite tall, though not as tall as Simon. But his frame was lithe and compact, not the body of a man you’d expect to throw a trash can that far.

“Didn’t I tell you never to show your face in Ikebukuro again, Iiizaaayaaa?”

Izaya very clearly recognized the man, and for the first time in Mikado’s presence, the smile vanished from his face.

“I thought you were working over toward the West Gate, Shizu.”

“I got fired ages ago. Plus, I told you not to call me that, Iiizaaayaaa. How many times have I told you that my name is Shizuo Heiwajima?” the man growled, veins pulsing on his face. His features were ordinary enough that he looked like a typical bartender by default, but the invisible aura of domination he emitted tipped Mikado’s scales from intimidation straight into terror.

I’ve never actually seen someone with bulging veins in real life before, Mikado initially thought, but in moments his body was completely controlled by primal, instinctual fear.

Shizuo Heiwajima—one of the people Masaomi said never to mess with. He had qualified that with “outside of yakuza,” so at the very least, this man was an ordinary civilian. But Mikado felt with all of his being that if there was a person who lived through violence alone, this was him.

It all made sense. Virtually any person living in Japan, upon seeing this man, would know they didn’t want the first thing to do with him. It would be easier to avoid him with a face that screamed danger from a distance, but it was his very ordinary looks that made him so dangerous.

“Come on, Shizu. Are you still mad about me framing you for my crime?”

“I’m not mad at all. I just want to beat your brains in.”

“Oh, c’mon. Just let me go.”

Izaya pulled the knife out of his sleeve. “I don’t like your violence, Shizu, because it doesn’t respond to reason, words, or logic.”

“Aaah!” Anri shrieked at the sight of the silvery blade, finally snapped out of her daze. Mikado held his breath and tried to motion to her to run away. She nodded, her back pressed to the wall, then clutched her bag to her chest and raced away. Mikado followed right behind her, turning back just once to glance down the alley.

Shizuo’s bellow of rage echoed off the walls, and people on the sidewalk stopped and looked down the side alley. Then, parting the crowd, the enormous shape of Simon, well over six feet tall—and Mikado couldn’t watch anymore.

Absolute terror swirled within him. His new city was a maelstrom of the ordinary and extraordinary, but he didn’t know which of the two this was. The only thing he knew was that he must never get involved with whatever that was.

He finally understood what Masaomi meant by the people to never make enemies with.

And those are regular civilians. How terrifying must the yakuza and Chinese mafia be?

The tales of violence he read about on the Net seemed like they had to partially be just that: tales. Now that he’d come into direct contact with it himself, Mikado was overwhelmed by the fear that actual violence inspired.

Finally, he gauged that it was safe, and he called out to Anri.

“H-hey, w…wait…hurts to…breathe…”

Sadly, even though he was running with all of his strength, he never once broke ahead of Anri.

That was the cruel shackle of reality as Mikado Ryuugamine knew it.

“Are you all right?”

Mikado took Anri to a nearby café, hoping to calm her down. He ordered them two cream sodas, then later realized it seemed like a childish choice.

“Um… Thank you for your help.”

“Uh, n-no, not at all! If anything, it was that Izaya guy who saved you!”

“But…”

Damn, what should I say? This just had to happen when Masaomi isn’t here to help me out.

Mikado wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew that not saying anything at all wasn’t an option, so he tried to find a topic.

“So…were those girls from your middle school?”

Anri nodded.

“That explains it. So when you were in middle school, this Mika girl was there to stick up for you when they bugged you, but now that she’s gone, those bullies from the past seized their chance to get back at you?”

Anri trembled at Mikado’s conjecture. “H-how did you know that?!”

“Um, j-just a guess based on the conversation… Anyway, is this Mika the Mika Harima from our class?”

She seemed to be calmer now and started to explain. “The thing is…Mika’s been marked absent at school, but in fact, she hasn’t been home at all since the day before the entrance ceremony.”

“…Huh?”

That seemed like a matter for the police. The concern must have shown in Mikado’s eyes, because Anri quietly shook her head.

“Technically, she’s not missing—she’s been sending e-mails to both my cell phone and her family. Messages like, ‘I’m going on a journey of spiritual healing.’ Or a report of whatever train station she’s currently at.”

“Spiritual healing? What happened?”

“Well, uh…”

For the first time, Anri was unable to answer. She cast her eyes down, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. The guy who would talk is too busy having an affair with a housewife right now,” Mikado blabbered while insisting on his ability to keep secrets. Anri failed to notice the contradiction. She thought for several moments.

“Will you promise not to be shocked?”

“Oh, nothing could shock me after the scene we just witnessed,” Mikado said, putting on his most reassuring smile. The time he spent with Masaomi in elementary school had taught him the proper way to soften a situation for the other person.

That boyish smile apparently did the trick, because Anri put it as bluntly as possible.

“Mika Harima…is a stalker.”

Plurfp!

Half-melted ice cream spurted out of Mikado’s smiling mouth.

Once her story was done, Mikado tried to piece it together.

“I see… So Yagiri the Health Committee rep was being bothered…er, romantically approached by Mika, and when he turned her down, she went on a journey of healing to fix her broken heart?”

According to Anri, Mika Harima had a habit of doing this, going back to middle school—picking the locks of the homes of boys she fell in love with at first sight or researching their vacation destinations and meeting them there, only to thank them for inviting her. In short, she changed the truth to whatever suited her.

On top of that personality, she had excellent grades and a rich family. She got her own apartment to live in while at high school, one with a monthly rent of more than 100,000 yen. Raira Academy had its own dorm, but it was located so far away from the school campus that most students chose to commute from home or got their own apartments to learn independent living at a young age. Mikado was one of the latter, as was Anri, who had a cheap place a little farther away.

This Harima girl’s got quite a life.

Then she met Seiji Yagiri and decided that he was The One. She started visiting his home, then failed to show up for the first day of school. According to Seiji, he gave her a very convincing no on the day before the entrance ceremony, warned her that he’d call the police—and hadn’t seen her since.

Mikado felt a cold sweat forming as he heard more and more of Anri’s story. Apparently she’d been sitting between him and Seiji during the school’s entrance exams. It could very easily have been Mikado whom Mika had decided to follow. He was secretly relieved that he hadn’t saved any girls in town so far—not that he would’ve been able to if he wanted.

He didn’t let any of these thoughts cross his face, though. Mikado was all business as he listened to Anri’s story.

“So what happens when you call her?”

“She won’t pick up… It seems like she keeps her phone off except to send messages… When I brought that up in an e-mail, she said she didn’t want to hear my voice because it would make her homesick…”

“I see… Hmmm. I wonder if it’s best to just hang back for now… Or maybe, just in case, you could put a little pressure on her in a message by saying you might have to call the police if you don’t hear her voice?”

Mikado tried a number of commonsense suggestions, but none were solid opinions of his. Time dragged on without an apparent solution.

“By the way, would you say you’re her best friend?”

“…I can’t say for certain, but we were together all the time. I’m a bit awkward and don’t know how to get along with people, and she was the one who took me by the hand and pulled me along. After that, we were always together…”

Mikado suddenly realized that the two girls were not just simple friends. One heard stories about this on the Internet, where the beating heart of such friendships was always spelled out in the most gruesome, harsh terms.

“Plus, with her grades, she could have gone to a much better school than this. Instead, she chose to go to mine. I felt really bad about that…”

That’s probably because she thought you were a useful tool and foil for her and didn’t want to lose you…

Mikado just barely kept that sentiment from reaching his lips. He was very glad that Masaomi wasn’t present. If this conversation was happening in a chat room, he’d have blurted that out without a second thought.

But maybe making that clear would ultimately be the best for her, Mikado thought, his eyes wandering as his mind grappled with indecision.

Anri noticed this and giggled. “It’s okay, I know the truth.”

Shocked that he was so easy to read, Mikado stammered a hasty “Wh-what?”

“I know that I was nothing more than a foil for her. And to be frank, I was using her as well. I don’t think I could survive without doing that. The reason I volunteered for the class rep job was because I knew she’d want to do it. So I figured if she wasn’t able, at least it should be me.”

Now everything made sense to Mikado. When Anri looked his way during homeroom, it wasn’t him she was looking at—it was Mika’s empty seat. Only it wasn’t empty because Masaomi was occupying it.

Meanwhile, Anri revealed some information he hadn’t asked her for.

“But, in fact, it’s just for my own self-satisfaction. I felt like, if I can be the class rep, I might even be able to surpass her… I think it’s very unfair of me.”

Before she could finish her thought, Mikado cut in, his voice cold and clinical. “Actually, the worst part of it is that you’re telling someone else.”

“…”

“It’s like you’re hoping that someone unrelated to the situation will forgive you for your actions. At least trying to be better than her in some fashion is the right choice. So you should hold your head high and do it fair and square.”

Inwardly, Mikado chided himself for taking it too far. After their long conversation, he’d gotten so engaged that he ended up telling her something he would normally have kept to himself. He watched her reaction, half-afraid she would explode with anger—but she seemed neither angry nor upset.

“Yes, I suppose so… Thank you,” she smiled sadly.

Mikado thought to himself, How pretty must Mika Harima be if she’s using this girl to make herself look better?

It was probably more of a foil for personality than for looks, but Mikado couldn’t help but wonder.

“Um, thank you very much.”

Anri bowed to Mikado again as they said good-bye. Mikado wanted to pay for their order at the café, but she insisted, and they split the bill. The shadows were stretching long across 60-Kai Street, and the deepening sky silently stared down at the two.

“No, it’s okay. This was the first time we ever talked, but now that we’re the representatives of our class, I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

Anri smiled kindly and nodded.

“Actually, Ryuugamine, I’ve known about you for a while.”

“Huh?”

“When I came to deliver my enrollment form to the office, they checked it against a list of names. I spotted a cool-looking name on the list, and no sooner had I noticed it than someone came and checked it off…”

Something weird was happening. Mikado gave her a bland affirmative, trying to dispel the feeling of dread welling up in his chest.

“And now…the owner of that very name has helped me out of a bind.”

Just a second.

It was starting to sound exactly like the situation between Mika and Seiji. Anri was smiling at him, her face a mask over her true intentions.

Uh, crap. I don’t think I’m ready for a stalker… But would it be so bad if it was a really cute girl like her? Yes, it would. What if she ends up stabbing me?! Or she might set my house on fire or take my family hostage… But if it turns out she’s cool, then I wouldn’t mind her stalking me… Wait, no! If she’s a stalker, that rules out the possibility of being cool entirely! Then again, if I really had to choose yes or no…

After three seconds of wild, circular speculation, Mikado realized he had no idea how to react to his classmate.

Anri noticed his discomfort and giggled. “I’m joking.”

“Uh…”

“I’m sure you don’t want someone like me hanging around and bothering you. But don’t worry, I’m not a stalker.”

Along with the realization that she was teasing him, Mikado felt a deep shame at having been so obvious—as well as an even greater sense of guilt.

“…Sorry.”

“Huh? N-no, don’t apologize! I’m the one who was teasing you!” Anri stammered, wide-eyed, clearly not expecting an apology.

They both cast about awkwardly for something to say, and Mikado broke the silence with a simple “Well, see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, I suppose we’ll be seeing plenty of each other.”

She might have a bit of a sneaky streak to her, but she’s a good person at heart, Mikado thought as he headed back to his apartment. She wasn’t the otherworldly spirit he originally imagined, just a normal girl with an awkward life.

Maybe it’s kind of like my relationship with Masaomi. He’s the one who always tugs me around, and it’s how I came into contact with my new world here.

Mikado shook his head, reminding himself that he shouldn’t be thinking that way. Instead, he remembered the girl named Mika Harima, who had disappeared after her crush rejected her advances.

“He must have really shut her down hard. But if that’s all it took to make her give up, maybe she wasn’t that bad of a stalker to begin with,” he mumbled to himself.

Then again, according to Anri’s story, Mika had picked the lock of her crush’s apartment—while she was in middle school. Would she really give up on her “man of fate” because of a little police threat?

Mikado realized he was spending serious thought on a stalker he’d never met. He rolled his head back to the sky and sighed.

I know I was hoping for some wild stuff to happen, but not these disappearances and stalkers.

He swallowed his melancholy and stopped walking, hoping for a change of pace. Maybe he could find a hundred-yen shop to browse through on the way back home.

A sound that bridged reality and fantasy hit his ears.

An engine rumble like the whinny of some living animal. It groaned and growled in fits and starts, sounding more agitated than ever before.

“The Black Rider!”

Mikado couldn’t stifle his rising curiosity and excitement—he never expected to hear the bike so close to the crowded station. He raced off in the direction of the sound.

Just one turn at the next intersection and it should be in view. He tried not to let the moment take control of him, pulled right around the corner—

And into a scene from an old-fashioned manga.

“… Oh ho. So you ran into a beautiful girl rounding a corner, and she just so happened to be running from a bad guy on a motorcycle, plus she has amnesia. And you want me to accept each and every one of those details at face value.”

“What can I say? It’s all true.”

“If there’s one thing amongst all that truth that doesn’t make sense, it’s the mystery of why she ran into you around that corner instead of me.”

Mikado and Masaomi were arguing in the midst of a cramped apartment room measuring just four and a half tatami mats—less than a hundred square feet.

Mikado’s new apartment contained no other appliances than a PC with onboard TV tuner and a rice cooker. It was one of the cheapest rooms in his building—the only one cheaper was the three-tatami room next door. It was only because that spot was taken that Mikado had to take the more expensive option. But apparently that tenant was a cameraman who was typically out on location, so most days it was empty.

He felt he could have taken that tiny room, but now that he had a guest over, he realized just how small four and a half already was and thanked God that he hadn’t tried for a three-mat room given the current circumstances.

Unlike Mikado’s wild confusion over said circumstances, Masaomi was calm and cool.

“Now, it would have been really trite—er, tight—if you were running late for school. It would have been marvelous if she turned out to be a new transfer student to your class. And it would have been perfect if she was a queen from a far-off country…and your long-lost childhood friend to boot!”

Mikado rubbed his chin, completely ignoring Masaomi’s ideas.

I know I asked for the extraordinary, but this much of it makes me wonder if it’s all a dream. I hope it’s a dream.

Masaomi continued goofing around, despite Mikado’s silence.

“Did you pick up on that pun with trite and tight?”

“There’s nothing less funny than explaining your own joke.”

Mikado looked down at the girl lying next to them, feeling like he had just said that not long ago. He couldn’t tell how old she was, but she looked older than him. She slept in total peace, wearing plain pajamas that looked like they came from a nearby hospital.

When they collided just around that corner, she asked him for help. He stood there in confused disbelief until he noticed a black motorcycle was heading straight for them.

The rest he did not remember. Apparently he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the train station. The motorcycle couldn’t follow him down there, and they left from a different exit, then ran to Mikado’s apartment.

“It sounded like she lost her memory, and she said not to call the police…so I didn’t know what else to do…”

“Just have to wait it out, I guess,” said Masaomi, watching the sleeping girl. “She is beautiful, though. Almost doesn’t look Japanese… In fact, is she Japanese?”

“Well, she was speaking Japanese…”

They decided that waiting until tomorrow to ask her more was the best plan. Normally, the circumstances dictated that such a person be turned over to the police for help, regardless of what they said, but Mikado had no intention of doing that.

Yes, it might be a well-worn development, but it was still a scene right out of a movie or comic book. This was the exact kind of adventure he wanted.

The only thing that caused him concern was the fact that the Black Rider might now be able to recognize him. He’d grabbed the girl and safely gotten away, but he still had no idea why the black motorcycle would be chasing her. If he had to survive in the big city knowing that the urban legend Black Rider was after him…

He hated normal, boring stuff. He wanted a different life than the one regular people had. Perhaps that was why he’d chosen to harbor this mysterious girl.

But escaping the ordinary required the assumption of risks.

Was the Black Rider my risk?

Mikado’s imagination set him shivering as Masaomi said good-bye.

There was one thing Mikado kept secret from his friend.

A bandage was currently wrapped around the girl’s neck. It hadn’t been there before Masaomi came over to visit, but once Mikado got a good look at her, he noticed something very striking.

Below her head, in a clean circle running completely around her neck, was a series of needle marks resembling medical stitches.

As though a saw had taken her head right off, and someone had sewn it back on.