Durarara!! - Volume 13 - Chapter Ep

Epilogue

At last, Tokyo greeted the morning.

But whether the hour hand passed six o’clock or seven o’clock, the rays of the morning sun did not alight upon Ikebukuro.

Pitch-black shadow hung over the city, far darker than any cloud could make it.

It was as if the night continued onward, striking fear and unease into the citizens and making huge national news.

By noon, however, the shadow was gone, and the rest of society neatly classified it a “natural phenomenon caused by a special dust storm” so that they could continue on with their day.

But for those individuals who were most deeply connected to that shadow, it was a morning of change.

Inside a car

“…”

Through dull wits, Izaya Orihara became aware that his surroundings were shaking.

Apparently, he was sitting in the passenger seat of a car with the seat back tilted down. He looked over and saw a man with a shaved head driving in silence.

“…Is that…Mr. Kine?”

“You’re lucky I happened to be nearby…if you want to call it luck.”

“…”

“I’d say that with the injuries you’ve got, there’s a fifty-fifty chance you’ll make it if I rush you to a hospital,” Kine estimated without a hint of emotion. “Frankly, the blunt impacts all over your body are worse than the knife wound in your gut. I’d guess you’ve got a couple organs failing right now. Can’t believe you were able to battle with Shizuo in that state.”

“…”

Izaya glanced down at his side. There was a detachable knife blade stuck in the flesh there. Only there was shadow stuck in the wound around it, holding his blood loss to a minimum.

“I wouldn’t pull that out. If you start bleeding, your chances of dying go from fifty-fifty to ninety-ten.”

“…”

“Before you die, thank the kid behind you. She helped carry you in here while Shizuo was blinded.”

“…?”

Izaya glanced into the rearview mirror, his face pale, and saw a girl with a cold expression on her face: Manami Mamiya.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I just wanted to see your end without anyone getting in the way,” she said, staring back at him through the mirror with open hatred and dismissal. “If you end up dying, I’ll say, ‘You got killed by a monster. Serves you right.’ But if that shadow in your wound saves you, I’ll say, ‘Your life got spared by a monster. Serves you right.’”

“…Ha-ha… Both of those are…horrible.”

“I was talking with Shinra Kishitani earlier. He told me the kinds of things you would hate.”

“Damn…him…”

He grimaced, exhaled, then gazed out through empty eyes at the black sky visible through the car window. He was silent for a long while.

“What now?” Kine asked. “I could drop you off at an emergency room nearby. Or would a black market doctor I have pull with be more convenient for you?”

Despite being on the brink of death, Izaya glared at the shadow covering the sky of Ikebukuro and said, “First…take me out of this city…as far as you can manage…”

“…”

“If I’m going to die…I don’t want my last moments watched over…by a monster.”

He put on a brave show of smiling, but his face was getting paler by the minute. Kine said nothing and continued driving, thinking of a route that would slip them past any checkpoints set up by the police.

Eventually, their car disappeared out of the area.

Izaya vanished from Ikebukuro, taking with him any information on his death or survival.

The very info dealer who would be in possession of that info was now gone.

In time, the darkness in the sky began to dissipate, and with it, the shadows that tied down the bikers and the Saika-possessed dispersed.

“…Huh?”

When Shuuji Niekawa became aware of his surroundings again, he was on the ground in the middle of Ikebukuro.

“What…am I doing here?”

He glanced around and saw many others looking equally befuddled.

“Let’s see… I…I found Haruna…and what happened after that…?” he wondered. Then his text message alert went off.

It was from his daughter. And it was a very simple message.

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m with the one I love right now.”

A very simple, worrisome message.

Somewhere in Tokyo

Hmm…? Where am I…?

When Takashi Nasujima awoke, he was in a dimly lit room.

“…Ah…gaah…!”

He tried to get up, but his body wouldn’t move. Not only that, it was racked with horrible pain.

What…? What happened…?

Despite the agony that washed over his brain like a wave, he slowly began to remember, bit by bit, the events that happened before he lost consciousness.

Fortunately for him, hiding in Russia Sushi out of fear of Shizuo meant Nasujima had escaped the binding shadows that afflicted everyone outside. From there, he wandered around in search of fresh pawns.

It was at that point that he just so happened to witness Anri Sonohara walking on the sidewalk. Plus, her attention was on someone else who was injured, so she was completely vulnerable.

Nasujima licked his lips and approached, excited to get the best pawn imaginable.

That’s right. That’s where that stupid kid got in the way…

He’d stabbed the boy several times in frustration, Anri Sonohara had screamed, and then she had produced a katana from her body and came slashing at him.

And then…um…I didn’t get cut.

Huh? Why didn’t I get sliced by her?

He felt a deep creaking in his spine and tried to go back deeper into his memories.

The moment that Anri’s Saika bore down on Nasujima, Haruna stepped in between the two and used the knife in her hand to block the sword.

“…?! Haruna!”

“No… You can’t, Anri… You might be my friend, but you can’t have Takashi,” she said, a mixture of fury and worship in her voice.

Nasujima felt his skin crawl. “N…Niekawa…? I thought…you were under my control…”

She was silent for a moment before she answered. As her eyes sparkled like those of a girl in love, she twisted her body around and curved her mouth as far as it would go.

“Well…isn’t that what you wanted?”

Either she was just acting, or she’d allowed him to possess her with Saika on purpose.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t always be who you wanted me to be…but I felt certain that I was about to lose you to that sneaking little cat burglar…”

In any case, it was exactly the opposite of what Nasujima actually wanted. He uttered a pathetic sound somewhere between a yelp and a shriek and turned his back on Anri and Haruna.

“Oh…! Wait, Takashi!”

Shit! Shit! Goddammit! Why?! Why did this have to happen?! I thought I had the power now! Why is this happening to me?!

Despite Nasujima’s being a teacher by profession, his mental dictionary was somehow missing the phrase you reap what you sow. He sped along the city streets, trying to put distance between himself and his pursuer.

He spotted a van driving in his direction and stepped out into the street, waving his hands. “Hey! Stop! Let me in!”

Whether it was an ordinary civilian or a gang member, he’d stab them and take them over as soon as they got out of the driver’s seat. All he had to do was stand in the road to make them stop…

“Hey, someone just jumped into the middle of the street,” Togusa said, peering through the broken windshield as he drove. After the shadow descended on the city earlier, Izumii and his thugs wound up on the ground, tied up by the shadow ropes, but for some reason, Kadota’s group was left untouched, so they decided to drive off and get away from the scene.

They had made it a reasonable distance away and were about to call Anri when a man suddenly stood in the road to block their path. From the back seat, Karisawa cried out, “Oh! It’s him! The boss of the red-eyes! He said he was gonna do some stuff to Mikado!”

“Huh…?” Kadota grumbled. And then, “Hey…that’s the guy who made the slasher run me over.”

Something inside of Togusa snapped.

“Ah! Hey, wait, Togusa,” Kadota yelled, but it was too late. Togusa jammed his foot on the gas.

There was a heavy thump—and Takashi Nasujima’s memory of the night stopped there.

“That’s right… I got hit by that car…”

The return of that memory made Nasujima cognizant of another anomaly. His limbs were tied down to the corners of a bed with leather restraints.

“Wha…? Urgh…!”

The pain was horrendous all over. It must have been from the impact of the car.

“What’s going on…? What is this place?”

From a corner of the room, a voice said, “Oh…you’re awake, Takashi…”

“Huh…?”

“This is one of the little hideouts Izaya Orihara kept for himself. Don’t worry. No one is coming here, and no one will hear our lovemaking, no matter how loud it gets…”

“Hwa—?!”

He turned his head and saw Haruna gazing at him with a blissful look in her eyes.

“I wanted to slice up the person who ran you over…but I decided to forgive them. After all, it’s thanks to them that our bonds are about to become so, so much stronger…”

A knife shone in her hand.

“Aaaaah! Aaaaah!” screamed Nasujima, but Haruna just brushed his cheek with her fingers, taking it as a reaction to the agony of his injuries. Next to the bed, there was a locker which she opened up.

“Don’t worry, Takashi… I’ll heal you.”

There were multiple shelves in the locker containing a variety of supplies, from smaller tools such as a scalpel, scissors, and utility knife to larger ones like a saw, hatchet, and chain saw. The feature they all shared in common was that they were bladed.

Haruna turned back to Takashi, carrying a bundle of the tools. “I love you, Takashi,” she said.

“Ah…aaaah…”

“I’ll make you forget all your pain…with the pain of my own love.”

His screams echoed off the walls of the room—but this was only the beginning of a vivid and memorable period of time shared only by the two of them.

Ikebukuro

“Yes, so the head is in transporting by the recovery team to the airport. It is to be scheduled for shipping to the headquarters of Chicago as a specimen of a special human body,” said the voice over the phone in oddly structured Japanese.

Shingen replied to his wife, Emilia, with annoyance. “You called a recovery team? I don’t understand how you can be so bad at cooking but so good at performing your job.”

“I cannot be allowing for you to require extra workings, Shingen.”

“Your sentiment is appreciated. Just stop mixing gunpowder into your cooking experiments.”

Their strange form of flirting continued for a little while longer before Shingen finally ended the call and spoke to the woman in the room with him.

“You heard that. What now, Namie?”

“…I don’t know what you mean.”

She could have strangled him to death right at that moment, but the Russian man with the watchful eyes behind her would have prevented any attempt. She’d been trying to recover the head before Seiji could, until Shingen caught her in the attempt and told her the spiteful news: “Nebula is in possession of the head now.”

Before her irritation could dissipate, Shingen said shamelessly, “Well, regardless of what you do, your uncle was shocked into a near-vegetative state, so we drew the message ‘I love severed heads’ with a heart symbol on his forehead in marker, which at this point has gone past being humorous into just plain sad. We have little interest left in punishing you, as it happens.”

“…And?”

“From Nebula’s perspective, in fact, you had a longer and deeper fixation on that head than anyone. Wouldn’t we want your expertise?”

“What? Is this supposed to be a job offer?”

“Really? With as direct as I am being with you, can’t you be certain that this is a recruitment pitch? Perhaps I was wrong, and you’re actually far stupider than you— Gu-gu-gu-gwaaah! Stop…stop pressing your thumb against my Adam’s apple! Don’t make me— Gu-gu-gu-guah…”

Namie continued to attack and harangue him until Egor finally stepped in to stop her—and by that time, the black shadow that covered the sky had vanished.

From there, the days trickled past.

Seiji’s apartment—several days later

“Are you sure about this?”

“Of course!”

“You make it sound simple, but it’ll cost lots of money and time.”

“I’ll go anywhere that you’re going, Seiji!”

Seiji and Mika were not talking about where to go on their next date this time. They were discussing the idea of going to school in America.

First, his sister had said she was going over to the United States; then Mika had told him the head had apparently been taken to Chicago. Immediately, Seiji began to plan a way to get there using a study abroad program, and thus Mika had joined in the preparation as if she were obviously welcome.

“But…why did you tell me the head was in Chicago?”

“Huh?”

“I figure if you kept it a secret from me and went on your own, you’d have a better chance of destroying the head.”

“Because even then, I’d rather be with you!” she said, giving him an utterly transparent smile.

He muttered, “The thing is…I still love that head.”

“I know!”

It was a conversation they’d had a million times before, except that in this instance Seiji added, “But while I don’t think of you as a lover…you are kind of like family to me.”

Mika did not reply to this. Instead, she hugged him tight around the chest. Seiji didn’t seem bothered by it, either. Their oddball relationship had them pointed together in the direction of the head.

Both of them knew they were in parallel with each other.

But they continued onward anyway, enjoying the warmth of their mutual proximity.

Tokyo

When her talent agency manager told her the rumor that a suspect in the case of the serial killer Hollywood had surfaced, Ruri Hijiribe prepared herself, thinking that the time had finally come.

She’d done it to avenge her parents, but a crime was a crime. This was the time to atone for what she’d done, and she was ready for it.

The only regret she had was that she’d let the ringleader, Jinnai Yodogiri, get away—but she was no longer of a mind to kill him.

She would accept whatever happened. The only thing she wanted to do was make sure that none of it hurt Yuuhei Hanejima.

But as her manager continued to explain the situation, Ruri was left feeling baffled.

“Apparently, Jinnai Yodogiri and his secretary, Kasane Kujiragi, have been listed as suspects in the serial killings.”

It wasn’t announced publicly, but the police were looking for them as people of interest, so since Ruri was a former member of Yodogiri’s agency, they might want to ask her some questions.

That was all her manager had to say about it, so Ruri headed out to make the trip home, uncertain of anything anymore.

I should talk to Yuuhei Hanejima, she decided and walked into the night streets around her apartment. Then she noticed a truck approaching in her direction. She moved to the side of the road to give it room to pass, but then she detected something wrong with it.

Despite the narrow width of the road, it did not slow down a bit. If anything, it seemed to be picking up speed, rushing straight at her.

…!

She was a fraction of a second too late in reacting. For an instant, she fell prey to the obsessive fixation in the madness of the man driving the vehicle.

But Ruri Hijiribe did not know that the man driving the car was a fanatical stalker of hers—the son of the man she’d killed to avenge her father: Kisuke Adabashi.

“Ha-ha…ha-haaaa…ha-ha-ha-ha! Hya-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaaa-ha-haaa!”

Adabashi had escaped from Izaya’s hideout, dragging his broken leg behind him, and through sheer tenacity alone, he’d made his way to Ruri’s location, ambushing her with a truck he stole.

Ruri had superhuman strength, but when faced out of the blue with the delusion of a man to whom love and destruction were the same thing, she was a moment too late to escape his aggression.

Just before her body was at the mercy of the mass and force of sheer violence, the owner of a strength beyond hers scooped her up, then raced up the front of the oncoming truck and leaped clear over it to safety.

The next moment, there was a horrendous crash behind them as the truck’s front twisted and deformed against a light pole. With the sound of the pole creaking and groaning in the background, Ruri recognized who had picked her up.

“A-are you…Miss Kujiragi…?”

It was Kujiragi, the secretary of that detestable Yodogiri, who had saved her. It was hard for Ruri to process in the moment; she was utterly taken aback.

“Do you hate me?” asked the woman.

“Wha…?”

“Forgive the suddenness of what I am about to say… I am jealous of you,” Kujiragi confessed out of nowhere.

Ruri summoned enough presence of mind to ask, “Um…what do you mean?” It was bafflement and curiosity that rose to the surface before hatred.

Instead of answering her question, however, Kujiragi continued her announcement. “So I have decided to steal from you. I will steal the opportunity for the serial killer Hollywood to atone for her crimes.”

“?!”

“This is now my crime and my punishment to you. I will steal all of Hollywood’s sins. Now you will be unable to atone for what you have done, and you never will know that peace,” Kujiragi explained. She dragged the unconscious Adabashi out of the truck, hauled him over her shoulder, and turned away from Ruri. “And now, with that guilt eternally plaguing your conscience…do have a good life.”

“What…do you mean? Why…why would you do this?”

“You cannot turn yourself in,” Kujiragi continued, her eyes flashing red, ignoring Ruri. “I have fingers deep within both the police and the media.”

Ruri flinched at the surreal look of her eyes but stood her ground. “No! Wait! What are you…?”

But without offering a single firm answer to any of Ruri’s questions, Kujiragi leaped away with superhuman agility—leaving only one self-deprecating comment.

“I am simply an irredeemable villain…motivated by envy.”

Raira General Hospital—several days later

“I’m terribly sorry about all the trouble Mikado’s put you through, Masaomi.”

“But, Miss…Sonohara, was it? I’m very glad you didn’t wind up getting hurt.”

Two adults were speaking to Masaomi and Anri in gentle tones.

“Please, please…I hope you’ll be good to our Mikado.”

“We’re so grateful to you for being his friends.”

After Masaomi and Anri walked the man and woman back to the hospital room, they made their way slowly toward the entrance of the building.

“Was that your first time meeting Mikado’s parents?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“They’re almost shockingly normal, right? But they’re nice. When I was a kid, I remember them getting us watermelon in the summer when I went to hang out.”

The recollection sent Masaomi further into his childhood memories of Mikado’s parents.

Mikado had said once that his father was the head of personnel at a printing company. He remembered the man being rather frazzled but essentially good-natured. His mother looked exactly the way that Anri imagined an “ordinary mother” would look, and she was kind enough to be concerned about Anri at a time when her own son was in critical condition.

Everything that happened was explained as an early-morning hiking expedition that had turned tragic when they’d encountered a biker-gang turf war, in which Mikado stepped in to protect them when someone turned a knife on the group.

Because the wound in Masaomi’s leg did not have a bullet inside of it and the shadow had stopped the bleeding entirely, it was treated like a mystery—an injury with no clearly discernible cause.

And while Mikado Ryuugamine’s life was stable for the moment, he still had not opened his eyes.

“Knowing what his parents are like, I can’t help but feel like the reason Mikado turned out this way isn’t because of his home life…but that it was all my fault.”

“No, that’s not…,” Anri said, trying to comfort Masaomi, but she was interrupted by another boy who passed the two.

“Don’t be so self-absorbed.”

“?”

Masaomi glanced over and got a good look at who had said that.

“You’re exaggerating how much influence you have over Mr. Mikado.”

“Kuronuma…,” Anri mumbled.

Masaomi gasped, recalling where he’d seen the boy before, and glared at him. “Aoba Kuronuma… What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m not going to start a fight with you in a hospital. Whether you believe me or not, I’m just here to visit Mr. Mikado. Am I not allowed to do that?”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve…,” Masaomi growled, trying to keep himself from punching him. “What’s wrong…you haven’t gotten him involved in enough shit already?”

Aoba sighed. “Oh no. And a very scary man already came and menaced me about that. We’ve largely accomplished what we set out to do, so I have no reason to force Mr. Mikado to do anything anymore.”

“What you set out to…?”

“As we figured, all the uproar succeeded at getting the Dollars recognized as a dangerous, malicious group. All the ordinary folks freaked out and stopped associating with the group, and the co-webmaster named Tsukumoya deleted all the Dollars-related sites, so at this point, the name simply lives on as its own entity.”

“…And in the meantime, you Blue Squares get to walk free. After all, that was the Dollars’ work,” Masaomi spat.

Aoba smirked and shook his head. “The truth is, I wanted to swim with Mr. Mikado. The fish tank got a lot bigger, and the visibility improved with it.”

“Hey…”

“But I don’t know if things are going to work out that well anyway. I’ve certainly attracted Chikage Rokujou’s attention, for one thing… And from what I hear, Libei Ying, the boss of Dragon Zombie, is back in Japan. And your least favorite person, Ran Izumii, is still up to something, so there’s no resting easy for us. Not to mention the Yellow Scarves.” Aoba shrugged.

Masaomi glared at him and declared, “If you try to drag Mikado into any more shit or use what he did as leverage to screw him over, I’m going to destroy you guys for good.”

“I’ll be careful.” Aoba sighed. Lastly, he gave Anri and Masaomi one true little smile. “And just so you don’t get the wrong idea… I really do have great respect for him.”

Once Aoba had moved on to Mikado’s hospital room, Masaomi spat, “Be careful, Anri. You go to school with him, right?”

“Yes, but…I was mostly surprised that he seemed different from usual…”

She’d heard about the younger boy’s true nature, but actually seeing it in person for the first time had left Anri a bit shaken.

Masaomi decided to get back to the topic at hand. “Hey…what’ll you say to Mikado when he wakes up?”

“Well…”

There was no sign of that actually happening yet, but they had faith. They knew he would regain consciousness. And that was why it would be important for them to know what to say when he did.

After a bit of thinking, both Masaomi and Anri arrived at the same answer.

When they walked out of the hospital entrance, Saki was waiting.

“Oh, you’re here?”

“Yep. I didn’t want to intrude on the three of you and your private time,” she said with a gentle smile.

Masaomi rolled his eyes. “Don’t get all weird on me. You’re going to make it hard for me to introduce him to you once he does wake up.”

Anri listened to Saki and Masaomi talk with a grin on her face but paused when she realized that someone she recognized was approaching from the front gate of the hospital. In fact, though she had no idea, it was the same “very scary man” whom Aoba had just been talking about.

“Yo, Anri.”

“Mr. Akabayashi? Why are you here?”

Masaomi was wary of Akabayashi, perhaps sensing that he was no ordinary civilian—but after a brief introduction from Anri, he and Saki left, looking rather relieved to be going. Once they were gone, Akabayashi said, “I just wanted to give my thanks to the kid who risked his life to save yours. Is he still under?”

“Yes…”

“Ah. That’s too bad,” he said, shrugging. In his head, he replayed the negotiations he’d had with Aozaki a few nights earlier.

Aozaki didn’t want to give up on his plans for Mikado and the Dollars, so Akabayashi had made a suggestion:

“I know what kind of business we’re in. I’m not asking for mercy or obligation in lettin’ the kids go.”

In fact, it was less of a suggestion that he had for Aozaki than a simple deal.

“I’ll give you a part of what I’m dealing in now… Nothin’ fancy, merely a chunk. Would you consider withdrawing from this matter in exchange for that?”

Aozaki glared at him with surprise and suspicion, but once he understood that Akabayashi was serious, he thought it over and eventually accepted.

“You really have gone soft. A part of me was actually hopin’ we might finally settle this score, once and for all.”

But Akabayashi snorted and grinned in his self-deprecating way.

“Just the opposite. I ain’t senile enough that I’d put the burden of us killin’ each other on some kid’s back. It’s a grown-up’s duty to see that a child gets back to safety when he’s in danger of losing his way, that’s all.”

Then he shrugged and added one last wry sentiment.

“Except I don’t pull him back with me—I just push him to where he ought to be.”

“By the way, I was hopin’ to ask you something again, Anri.”

“What is it?” she replied.

Akabayashi paused a moment. “Do you love this Mikado Ryuugamine kid?”

“…!”

Her eyes went round, but after a moment, she nodded firmly. “I’m not entirely certain myself…but I think maybe I do.”

“And that’s…your opinion? Not influenced by anything else?”

“Huh…?”

She wasn’t sure what he meant at first, but then she gasped.

Akabayashi knew her mother. Maybe he knew about Saika, too.

But rather than follow up on that suspicion, Anri firmly told him, “Yes, mine… That’s my feeling.”

“All right, then. I’ve got nothing more to worry about.” Akabayashi said not another word hinting at the presence of Saika. He rapped his walking stick with a satisfied smile. “Enjoy your youth while you’ve got it.”

And reflecting on his past, he spoke his own unvarnished truth.

“I never had the chance myself.”

Several weeks later

“Goodness, look how deep into autumn we are,” murmured Karisawa as sunlight streamed into the van.

“…It’s the middle of goddamn summer,” Kadota snapped, now healed up and out of the hospital for good.

Karisawa and Yumasaki protested against this. “What do you mean, Dotachin? Hot and cold weather mean nothing to the indoor types!”

“That’s right! Obviously, the only real indicator of autumn is when that season of anime begins!”

Togusa was finally in a better mood these days, now that the windshield and everything else in the van had been repaired. “You guys are indoor types? The ones who hitch rides in my car to get to Animate all the time?”

“Oh, by the way,” Karisawa said, completely ignoring that comment, “I heard that Ruri Hijiribe’s stalker finally got arrested.”

“Yep. The bastard’s name is Kisuke Adabashi. I can hardly even believe that he was trying to run her over with a truck! Apparently, a passing fan dragged him out of the vehicle, beat the shit out of him, and left him half-dead in front of the station.”

“Left him?”

“I mean, what they did is still assault. No point in getting yourself arrested for it,” Togusa said. His smooth manner suddenly turned feral as his eyes gleamed with murder. “But if it was me, I wouldn’t have turned the guy in at all. I’d grind him into meat.”

Kadota sighed. “And here we are, back to the usual.”

He watched the scenery of the city trickle by through the windshield and found a smile naturally coming to his lips.

“But I guess I kinda like this vibe.”

Outside of Rakuei Gym

As the van carrying Kadota and his friends passed by the gym, a few girls and one adult woman popped out of the door.

“You did great today, Akane! You beat a boy two years older than you! It’s the arrival of a promising future star! There’s a new heroine in the world of wooden-staff combat!” chattered Mairu Orihara.

“N-no, I just got lucky,” stammered Akane Awakusu, her face flushed.

Kururi softly rubbed the girl’s head. “…Fortune… Momentum…” [Luck is also a part of skill.]

“Y-you’re embarrassing me,” Akane insisted, shaking her head.

Then the assistant instructor who attended to the three of them approached. “I wouldn’t say lucky; that was the kid’s fault,” said Mikage Sharaku. “He got lazy against a female opponent and earned what was coming to him. But…you get passing marks for taking advantage of the opportunity he presented.”

Then she addressed her newest apprentice directly. “Now, Akane, you’ve joined the gym at a young age, and you take your practice very seriously…but what is it you intend to do with this skill?”

“…There’s a man I have to beat…”

“Ooh. A bully in your class, I’m guessing?”

Akane shook her head and said, in a tiny voice, “Sh…Shizuo Heiwajima.”

Mikage’s face went slack for a moment, and then she burst into laughter.

“Ha-ha-ha! That’s perfect! You couldn’t ask for a bigger goal!”

When Akane’s face went even redder and she stared at the ground, Mairu and Kururi stood up for her.

“Hey, you shouldn’t laugh at her, Mikage!”

“…Awful…” [The poor thing.]

“Oh! Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

The grown woman thought about the man who had challenged that monster single-handedly and then vanished from the city. She murmured wistfully, “I can make you stronger. Strong enough to defeat that monster? I don’t know…but I’d sure love to see that for myself.”

Inside Russia Sushi

“Kchoo!”

A muffled sneeze echoed off the walls of Russia Sushi.

“Oh, Shizuo, you catch cold? That happen when you don’t get nutrition. When eat our sushi, sick children become healthy children. Fish children are roe; chicken children are eggs. You eat all the children, feel better!”

“Way to make me lose my appetite,” Tom grumbled to Simon. He turned to Shizuo. “You all right? It’s about that time of year that everyone gets sick.”

“Oh…I’m sure it’s just someone spreading a rumor about me. You know how that superstition goes.”

“Ah… Maybe it’s Vorona, telling her dad and his buddies all about your heroic exploits.”

“Don’t tease me about that… I didn’t do anything that anyone would call heroic,” Shizuo muttered, head downcast.

Just the other day, Vorona had gone with an acquaintance she called Slon back to Russia. She claimed it was something about facing her father and her past self, but Shizuo didn’t pry into it at all. When he looked into her eyes, he saw a special kind of resolve there and knew that it wasn’t his place to intrude upon her struggle.

Still, he did have some parting words.

“I’m not gonna ask for details…but you are an important coworker of mine. I’m your senior here, so if you ever need help, I’ve got an ear to listen.”

Vorona grinned at that, then admitted, “If the possibility for me to visit this city again is approved…I will desire a battle upon our reunion.”

Shizuo was a bit nonplussed by the use of the word battle. But she continued, “I wish to speak with you in direct terms, at risk of my very life… To experience the joy of existing in this world is my desire.”

Denis sensed the feelings that were running through Shizuo as he recalled that conversation.

“Don’t worry about her,” he said. “Her old man acts cruel and stubborn, but he’s much more compassionate than you’d think. Once she finds the right timing, she’ll be back here to visit.”

Shizuo admitted, as much to himself as to Denis, “The truth is, it’s thanks to her that I can act like a person at all… And I feel bad that I never got to thank her for that…”

Simon piped up. “Shizuo is genuine human being. We guarantee it. Genuine, sunshine, coastline, gold mine. We offer all the best fish, no fakes. Moonfish, negitoro, halibut, mahi-mahi nigiri, conger, sea snake, everything good, make you happy, make you full.”

He was clearly just reading the names of the sushi off the list on the wall, but before Shizuo or Tom could reply, a peculiar sound reached their ears.

Qrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…

It appeared to be coming from the expressway between Russia Sushi and Sunshine City—an eerie engine sound that resembled a horse’s whinny. Shizuo, Tom, Denis, Simon, and even the other employees and customers grinned a little.

As if they felt an irreplaceable measure of reliable familiarity in the urban legend, that absolutely abnormal being, still around and wandering the city in broad daylight.

Tokyo

A motorcycle without a headlight stopped on the side of the road.

“You should be all right after coming this far,” Celty typed into her PDA. Seeing the message from the back seat of the motorcycle, Shinra gave her a big smile.

“Thanks for the huge help, Celty. My broken leg isn’t fully healed yet, so I wouldn’t have been able to get away on my own.”

“I can’t begin to imagine what you did to get both the Chinese mafia and the Asuki-gumi chasing after you,” she typed, exasperated.

Shinra gleefully answered, “The vicissitudes of life are woven of fortune, good or ill. Sadness and gladness succeed each other. To have the pleasure, you must endure the pain. There doesn’t need to be an answer to explain days like this.”

“I feel like the only thing you’d ever weave is disaster…”

“Whatever do you mean?! Just going on a drive with you like this is the greatest bliss I could possibly hope to grab, Celty. And I say that because what I’m grabbing is your body, eh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-helb-grbl-guh!”

She used her shadow to clamp down on his face and typed out, “Then you’ll need to suffer to balance things out.”

It was just like always—silly, idle flirting.

When they were done, and Shinra was free of his shadow shackles, he said to her seriously, “Hey, Celty.”

“What?”

“Tell me the truth. Do you still have the memories of your head now?”

“Why would you ask this?”

Shinra hadn’t touched upon the matter ever since the night in question. Part of that was because his injuries had festered and his broken bones had come loose again, but even after he had recovered somewhat, Shinra still hadn’t asked about Celty’s memories.

He must have decided that this was the right moment and summoned up the determination to go ahead with it.

“It’s not like when it got severed while you were asleep. If it happened when you were wide awake, though…”

“That doesn’t actually matter,” she typed out before he had even finished asking the question. She wasn’t trying to shut him up to hide the truth. She was putting her honest feelings into each word and relating them directly to him.

“I’ll always be with you.”

“…”

“If you can sense a person’s feelings that accurately, don’t embarrass me by forcing me to type this out, you jerk.”

“…Celty!”

Out of an abundance of emotion, he clutched her around the midriff from behind. She hastily sent out shadows to pry him loose.

“Control yourself, you idiot! We’re in public,” she typed, her fingers pausing partway—she’d spotted a familiar face in the process of looking around.

“Yo.”

It was a traffic officer on a motorcycle, grinning at her.

“Puttin’ on quite a show, huh, monster?”

“Um, this isn’t—”

“I hate to ruin your blissful display…but are you aware that this road, upon which you are engaging in a public display of affection, does not allow parking?”

The officer, Kuzuhara, was no longer smiling now. More engines roared all around them, and many more white police motorcycles appeared.

Shinra timidly asked her, “Um…what’s going on here, Celty?”

“Shinra.”

“What?”

“Don’t die.”

Before he could so much as emit a questioning peep, Celty’s shadows were spreading around them, seeking a rapid escape. Shinra nearly passed out from the phenomenal roller-coaster Gs he pulled, strapped to her back, as she raced away.

Celty Sturluson was not human.

She was a type of fairy commonly known as a dullahan—found from Scotland to Ireland—a being that visits the homes of those close to death to inform them of their impending mortality.

The dullahan carried its own severed head under its arm, rode on a two-wheeled carriage called a Cóiste Bodhar that was pulled by a headless horse, and approached the homes of the soon to die. Anyone foolish enough to open the door was drenched with a basinful of blood. Thus, the dullahan, like the banshee, made its name as a herald of ill fortune throughout European folklore.

But that was all in the past.

Now she was a living urban legend and a woman leading a happy life in love with a man named Shinra Kishitani.

And so wishing and hoping that this happiness would continue indefinitely…

…the living legend spent another day racing through the city.

Another day, another month

How much time had passed?

The boy woke from long dreams of darkness and opened eyes fuzzy with sleep.

The light was blinding, his vision still unclear.

When he craned his neck, he heard a nurse speaking with alarm.

“Mr. Ryuugamine opened his eyes…

“Call the parents at once…”

Then he thought he heard voices calling his name.

“Mikado!” “Mikado!”

A boy and a girl. Familiar, fond voices.

“…A…auh…”

He couldn’t speak words; his tongue felt stiff and clumsy.

Over agonizing moments, he finally gained enough control to make himself understood.

“…Masaomi…? Sono…hara…?”

They were practically grunts—just exhaled air. But the boy and girl understood what he said, and they squeezed his hands tight.

“Welcome back, Mikado.”

“It’s good to see you again.”

Through vision hazy with blinding light, he sensed their voices—and before he could even process what this meant, he was aware that tears were running down his face.

They never stopped.

Whether ordinary times or extraordinary, he sensed that behind their words was what he always wanted.

The boy’s tears kept falling.

This is a twisted story.

A story of twisted love.

With the whinnying of an urban legend,

or with a boy’s tears,

or with a return to normalcy,

or with the disappearance of a mastermind,

or with the premonition of a new story—

this story of twisted love now comes to a close.

For their love is no longer twisted in the least.