Durarara!! - Volume 8 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Daydreams & Extremes @ Past & Present

Once, she had a dream.

A dream of giving shape to fantasy with her own hands.

Ruri Hijiribe was born in a small town in the mountains of the Kanto region of Japan.

It was a town full of old families hailing from the Meiji era, and her house was bigger than most.

But her father and grandfather’s business failed, and the house burned down for unknown reasons. Then her mother went missing. To this day, the only thing standing where her home had once been was charred wooden remains.

She had lost a place to come home to.

But she still had a dream.

Those terrifyingly powerful monsters of the silver screen that overwhelmed humanity.

She’d always been drawn to these freakish abnormalities from a very young age.

But thinking back on it now, perhaps she’d felt the same admiration for her grandmother.

“Say, Ruri. What brought you down this path?” asked her teacher, Tenjin Zakuroya, after she had started her career as a makeup artist. When he had first hired her, Tenjin was lax enough to claim that it was because she was cute—but she proved her skill at the job, and despite the many inappropriate statements he made about her, he had never, ever crossed the line into action.

This question came during the first time she created a monster mask with her own hands. It was a total creation of her imagination, and something about it must have struck him. Tenjin had stared at the freakish mask before turning to her to ask that question.

“Well,” she began, but she stopped to think about it because she’d never been asked that before. She decided to be open and honest.

She spoke of the heavy atmosphere that pervaded her famous home, the thirst for pure destruction as a result of that oppression, and the admiration for those monsters who symbolized that urge.

She felt blessed by her ability to create monsters on her own. And lastly, she felt hope that the monsters would be able to do what she could not.

Ruri thought that was all there was to it but found that her heart still wanted to spill forth.

“…Plus, my grandmother might be part of it.”

The very first time she told another person what was truly in her heart was also the first time she admitted a feeling she’d never been able to put into words before.

The Hijiribe household crumbled into dust after the business failure of her grandfather and father—but both of them were from outside the family, men who married Hijiribe women and were brought inside.

Her grandfather regretted destroying their fortune, but afterward, he seemed to have a terrible weight off his shoulders and was actually kind to Ruri for once. Before then, he’d been yet another person putting silent pressure on her, but once the family’s fortunes were laid low, he started telling her about her grandmother.

“You look a lot like your grandma.”

From that point, he talked about how much he loved his wife, where they traveled, what they talked about, what they dreamed about, and so on.

Thinking back on this now, Ruri thought there were a number of odd aspects to his stories.

For all the lovey-dovey talk, he never once spoke of how they actually met and fell in love.

For some reason, the other people in the town seemed afraid of her.

And most importantly, Ruri did not know what her grandmother actually looked like.

There were plenty of photos of him around the house. But there wasn’t a single bit of physical evidence of her grandmother, and she heard nothing about a divorce or even her death in the past.

And she was never seen around the house in any form.

Her father said, “She probably got tired of Father and left him.”

Her mother just smiled and said, “If you’re a good girl, maybe you’ll meet her someday.”

And then, one day, the kids in town told her, “I know your secret! Your grandma’s a monster!”

The woman in her grandfather’s stories seemed like the furthest thing from the word monster. For all that Ruri knew, her grandmother was a human being in the warmest sense—someone who was kind to all, never lost her smile, and gently cared for her thoughtless husband.

But the children chanted that she was a monster and that as her grandchild, Ruri had to be a monster, too.

And this accusation—coming completely out of the blue—delighted her.

She had no idea what kind of monster she was supposed to be.

She had no idea why they said her grandmother was a monster.

But while she made a show of being upset, she was pleased on the inside.

She even felt a sense of security, like being enveloped in a warm blanket.

Those incarnations of destruction she saw on the TV screen, those freakish monsters who wielded the freedom of obliteration—now she was closer to them than before, kindling a special kind of deep-down admiration for her missing grandmother.

The woman her grandfather loved for her endless kindness was reviled and feared by the townsfolk as a monster.

It was a contrast of two very opposing images, neither of which had any physical form.

So Ruri felt a kind of reverence for this grandmother without a photograph.

She was the bridge between Ruri and the incarnations of destruction and freedom, the monsters Ruri could never be—the link between fantasy and reality.

“I see, I see, that makes sense,” her teacher said, nodding as he reached out to touch her mask creation. “So that’s why it seems so warm and inviting for being a monster. It all adds up. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll be able to create your grandmother’s face, the one you’ve never seen.”

It was a rather abstract expression to use, she thought. Tenjin Zakuroya continued, “I’m going to be doing some work on a movie with a rather interesting title: Carmilla Saizou. The kid playing the lead is an interesting guy, too. Very cold, and yet he burns, the son of a bitch.”

Again, it was strangely abstract and hard to grasp what he meant. Then he turned to Ruri and said, “You do the kid’s makeup. Make him a warm, inviting vampire.”

Ultimately, Ruri’s work on Vampire Ninja Carmilla Saizou was recognized by the world at large. The World Film Village Federation listed her among the list of “100 Juiciest SF Makeup Artists,” and her fame began to grow along with her master’s.

This event changed her fate again.

“It’s nice to meet you. I am Kujiragi from Yodogiri Shining Corporation.”

It was soon afterward that the businesswoman with the sharp suit and expensive glasses showed up.

The woman named Kujiragi took Ruri to a very fancy black limousine, inside of which an elderly gentleman waited.

“It’s a pleasure. My name is Jinnai Yodogiri.”

When the elderly man was done with the introductions and formalities, he presented Ruri with a new path in life.

“One of my talent scouts came to me, breathless, carrying your photo. It was from an article in a film magazine about upcoming special effects makeup artists. I had a glint of intuition.”

Ruri, whose own intuition did not tell her why she was in this limousine, waited for the explanation with curiosity.

Would you believe it? After seeing her photo, Yodogiri and his company wanted her to be a model.

At first, she refused—her intuition couldn’t grasp the point. She wasn’t meant to be a model, of course.

But he found the chink in her mental armor and drove one specific word into it.

“The monsters you create are truly special.

“How would you like to be a monster of an idol and take flight to challenge the whole world?”

“…!”

She squeaked a silent breath and felt her entire body twitch.

“……?”

Then she realized that she had fallen asleep in her seat and drifted into a dream.

“Are you all right?” asked Yuuhei, who was watching her closely from the seat next to hers.

Suddenly, she noticed Shinra, Shizuo, Celty, and Anri all staring at her with concern.

“…Oh…um…I’m so sorry… Here I am, imposing on you all, and I can’t even get through this important conversation without…”

“No one’s blaming you,” Yuuhei said. “You haven’t had a good night’s sleep in days.”

Shinra grinned. “In fact, it wasn’t an important conversation at all. When you started nodding off, I was just launching into a lecture about the lexicological roots of a number of idiomatic phrases. Of course you got sleepy! Oh—speaking of lexicology, perhaps you were engaging in a bit of hypnopedia: That would be sleep- learning!”

“Was that supposed to be clever?”

“Oh, please, Celty. Don’t hold back—give it a good chuckle like you know you want to.”

“You get your sense of humor from your dad, Shinra. And it’s just as funny as if it came through a gas mask,” Celty announced, annoyed.

Shinra acted devastated by this statement, falling over the table and muttering curses at his father under his breath.

Ruri watched this pleasant picture unfold and recalled the next part of the scene she’d been dreaming.

At Yodogiri’s insistence, she started a side job as a model.

Her dream had taken a twist.

It was twisted for her.

But her dream was still her dream.

She’d gone into the business of creating monsters when she realized that being one was impossible—but then she began to think that being a “monster” as an idol, a person who exerted incredible influence on her surroundings, might bring her closer to her grandmother anyway.

If she’d known just a bit more about the world, she might have realized that show business wasn’t quite as simple as that.

But although she’d been naive, Ruri did not take show business for granted. It was Yodogiri’s clever words that rattled her and shifted her position.

At first, she felt like she was doing a good job.

In the shift from a model to an idol singer, she became popular enough to easily sell out a concert hall for her events.

There were so many people who cheered her on that she nearly forgot her dream for a time.

She felt like she’d gained some kind of powerful force at her disposal, without having to become a monster. While she was closer to her grandmother, who was both feared and beloved, the monsters of her dreams steadily began to fade, replaced by gratitude to Yodogiri for bringing her to this place in life.

But Yodogiri himself did not forget about the monster that slumbered within her.

For Yodogiri himself knew that Ruri Hijiribe truly had the blood of a monster in her veins.

“By the way, have you had any contact from your relatives?”

“? No…”

Her father and grandfather had been against her show business career, so they never sent outward displays of support. Yodogiri knew that, too, so why would he ask?

Sensing her suspicion, Ruri Hijiribe’s employer smiled gently and explained, “No, I’m aware of your father. I’m speaking of your mother or grandmother.”

“Uh…no…”

“Please, don’t be upset. I’m just saying, your mother or grandmother could be watching you sing on TV. And if so, they might attempt to reach out to you, that’s all. Things like that have happened with our company’s talent before, so I thought I’d ask.”

“Oh, I see…,” she replied, then considered the matter.

Yes, she’d told Yodogiri that her mother had left. But she’d never once mentioned her grandmother to him.

Maybe Master Zakuroya told him, she decided, not sensing anything deeper to Yodogiri’s question at the time.

But that conclusion was very quickly dispelled.

As she envisioned the face of her special effects teacher for the first time in ages, Yodogiri smiled and asked, “Oh, there are some people I want you to meet in a little while—is that all right?”

“Huh?”

“We have a friendly get-together with a number of business folks who frequently sponsor TV dramas, including the president of Adabashi Life Insurance. Kujiragi can fill you in on the finer details.”

“Okay…,” Ruri replied, a bit taken aback by the suddenness of it.

But when the boss of her company was bowing to her and saying, “I’m sorry to throw this at you when times are so busy. Feel free to back out if you really can’t make it,” she felt completely obliged to accept the plans.

Without knowing what would happen at the “friendly get-together.”

Without knowing that the day’s events would cause her monster blood to awaken…

“Mewww.”

An adorable little sound from Ruri’s feet roused her from those despicable memories.

She came to her senses and looked into the face of the kitten, which had climbed down from Anri’s chest and wandered to Ruri’s side.

“Mewww?” it wondered, head tilted as if to ask why she wouldn’t play with it. Ruri disengaged her mind from the distant past and gave the creature a friendly smile.

Yuuhei Hanejima’s pet cat was named Yuigadokusonmaru, or “Mr. Egocentric.” Yet, at odds with the ridiculous name, the kitten was essentially the very personification of cuteness.

Dokusonmaru and Yuuhei had done a lot of heavy lifting in easing the pain of the scars in Ruri’s mind. It seemed strange that a girl who dreamed of being a monster would find solace in a kitten, she thought, and then turned to the topic of her current problems, not her past ones.

…I can handle my own problems if it’s just me. I can take care of a simple stalker on my own…and if I can’t—well, then it’s just me who suffers.

In fact, given the strength of the serial killer Hollywood who dwelled within her, she could dispatch a single stalker without breaking a sweat.

But she couldn’t take solace in that. She wasn’t alone anymore—she had other things to protect.

If trouble ever came to Yuuhei and Dokusonmaru…

She harbored an inhuman power within herself. A monster known as Hollywood who had claimed several victims already.

Even knowing it was hypocritical of her, she set aside the matter of her own monster crimes to pray that no one she cared about would become a victim of this stalker.

If anyone was going to be a victim, let it be her alone.

All the kindhearted monster could do was pray—but to what God, she did not know.

And yet…

The stalker had his own twisted love for Ruri Hijiribe.

For in his love, he knew that she possessed a kind and caring heart.

And thus, he also knew just the right way to break it…

A few hours later, Kawagoe Highway, Ikebukuro

Adabashi walked through the night.

Slowly but surely along a path next to the national route.

But he was not walking to his destination. He had already arrived there.

On the rooftop of the building across the street from Shinra’s apartment, Adabashi continued a long, solitary walk. He paced back and forth endlessly along a stretch of about three hundred feet.

“…”

With each step, he snapped his teeth together.

Click, click, as if counting up some significant activity.

He had been doing this for hours, walking back and forth near the lip of the rooftop, watching the building across the street, the entrance of Shinra and Celty’s apartment, all the while, as relentless and mechanical as a windup toy.

At times he pulled out a cell phone and engaged in communications with it, but he never stopped walking or clicking his teeth, no matter what.

Just when the sky to the east was starting to get lighter, a man and woman left Shinra’s apartment, followed moments later by a man in a bartender’s outfit.

Ruri Hijiribe was hiding under a hood, but Adabashi recognized her at once. He stopped pacing and leered cruelly downward at her from his high vantage point.

But he did not leave his position; he merely continued to monitor the location closely.

Suddenly, a number of men appeared about sixty feet ahead and behind the trio, traveling along with them—bodyguards, clearly.

“…”

They’d probably been hired by the production agency that managed Yuuhei and Ruri. All the bodyguards were hardy and menacing, and even with the large gap between them and the trio, it would clearly be difficult to attack Ruri now.

But Adabashi was not in a hurry.

He knew:

That he could not attack Ruri Hijiribe now, whether she was under guard or not.

He knew:

That standing behind Ruri and Yuuhei was the most famous brawler of Ikebukuro.

He knew:

That if he somehow was able to attack Ruri Hijiribe alone, he would likely be defeated.

Because he also knew:

That Ruri Hijiribe was a monster.

Adabashi followed Ruri’s progress from the rooftop with his binoculars.

Once he had confirmed that the trio were empty-handed, he made a shhhheh sound through his teeth.

His unique laugh repeated quietly and steadily as he looked at the screen of his phone.

How did he get it? Did he take it himself? It was a photo of the same group heading to this same apartment.

The resolution was crude, but he could make out a pet carrier in Yuuhei’s hands and what looked like a little kitten riding on Shizuo Heiwajima’s head.

Next, he switched to another photograph.

This one was of an article in an entertainment magazine, which featured a picture of Ruri wearing a gloomy smile and, standing next to her, Yuuhei in his usual expressionless state. Normally, talent agencies preferred to cover up evidence of their stars’ romantic flings to preserve their meticulously managed images, but in the case of Yuuhei and Ruri, they decided that it would actually boost their profiles. Apparently, the president of the agency had shopped around the idea for the article to the tabloids.

In the picture, Ruri was clutching an adorable kitten to her chest. The caption under the photo read, “That’s Yuuhei Hanejima’s lucky cat Yuigadokusonmaru being lovingly caressed in Ruri Hijiribe’s arms!”

“Dokuson…maru.”

The carrier bag and the cat itself had been there when they came to this apartment building. But after leaving the building, they had neither.

Adabashi turned back to the building across the street and slowly let his gaze slide up it from the street level. When he confirmed that the only window with lights on belonged to the top floor, he hissed with laughter again: “Shehhh, shehhh.”

Kisuke Adabashi.

He knew:

That Ruri Hijiribe was the serial killer Hollywood.

He knew:

That Ruri Hijiribe had killed his father.

But he did not hold a shred of hatred toward her.

If anything, he loved her with all his heart.

At least, according to his own definition of love.

He knew:

That he could not love Ruri Hijiribe by destroying her body.

But he could destroy her heart.

And he knew what to do in order to achieve that goal.

He stared and stared at the top floor of the building, hissing with laughter all the while.

It was like a musical fanfare celebrating the fulfillment of his love.

When his laughter subsided at last, Adabashi logged in to his special online community within the Dollars—and began to spread his pure, malicious love.

The sky to the east continued to brighten.

The sun would rise soon to shine upon him.

He silently left the rooftop with that in mind.

His only thoughts regarding how he would love Ruri’s precious cat and the people who were taking care of it.

A blissful smile spread across his features.

The next day, morning, Shinra’s apartment

“…So why did you call me here?”

It was the day after the gloomy night at Shinra’s apartment. The one giving voice to her curiosity was a girl dressed in casual clothing—Mika Harima.

“We just figured that if we wanted to know about stalkers, we should turn to you.”

The girl looked at Celty’s outstretched PDA screen and acted so stereotypically outraged that she might as well have had cartoon puffs of smoke coming from her ears.

“What a horrible thing to say! I am not a stalker!”

The young man at her side sighed and corrected, “No, you were a stalker.”

“Exactly! Like Seiji says, I was a stalker!” she pronounced with a proud smile, changing her tune on a dime.

Annoyed, Celty typed, “Well, I just gave you the situation. I was wondering what sort of defenses we could mount against a stalker… For example, is it easy to break the locks on newer apartments like this one?”

“Huh? Oh, don’t be silly, Celty. The locks on this apartment aren’t new at all.”

“What?”

“I’m going to go outside, and you lock the door behind me! Wait in here, Seiji! Knowing you’re inside will give me extra motivation!” Mika hurried out of the apartment.

“Your friend is very, um, active,” Celty typed to Anri, after locking the door.

Anri smiled. “Yes, she’s really unbelievable.”

“…Well, yes…in a way…”

Meanwhile, the doorknob started rattling and turning. From the other side of the door, Mika could be heard saying, “There are a bunch of ways you can get through these older locks. Even a child can learn to use a thumb-turn rotator or a bump key after a day of practice. You should really buy a new lock. You might want to ask your landlord if you can switch to an electronic key… There!”

The door clicked, and a second later, it swung open.

—?!

“That was quick!” Shinra exclaimed.

“Y-you did that all while you were talking? How is that possible?!”

“Sorry, trade secret. Besides, Celty, can’t you trickle your shadow into the lock, then make it firm to act as a key? That’s way more unbelievable than what I can do.”

“You might have a point there, but—” Celty protested, while Shinra considered the issue.

“Hmm… What do you think, Celty? Maybe we should put some serious thought into changing the locks. Or should we just move?”

“Good question… But it was a whole lot of work to come up with a convincing story for the landlord and the people in the floor below, so I’d prefer not to repeat that process,” she typed, showing it to Shinra. Then she cleared the screen and wrote a new message for Mika. “Are you sure that other people can do that as easily as you just did?”

“Only if they practice at it. But you can just look that stuff up on the Internet now. It’s a scary time to be alive. You’ve got to take care of yourself!”

Anyone who knew Mika personally would think, “Speak for yourself!” but Anri merely smiled uneasily, while Seiji averted his eyes with a sigh.

“I see…”

Celty recalled when Aoba first visited her two and a half months ago. He had been waiting outside the apartment then, but the thought of him getting inside to wait for them gave her the chills.

Shinra sensed her unease and clapped his hands. “Well, I suppose I can at least ask the landlord about changing the lock. I can say that Shizuo forced it open and broke it.”

“That’s kind of a cruel thing to say.”

“Well, he’s already destroyed our handrail on the stairs and our cups. Anyway, we can pass this anti-stalker advice on to Ruri and Yuuhei, so let’s eat lunch and take our time discussing the matter. There’s not much to eat here, so I’ll grab the delivery menus… Wait, where did they go?”

“I think the new ones are still in the newspaper slot.”

Celty and Shinra headed toward the dining room in the back. Anri was about to follow them when Mika tapped on her shoulder.

“Hey, Anri.”

“?”

“How’s Mikado doing?”

“Wha…?”

Why would she suddenly ask about Mikado? Anri looked back at her, slack-jawed, totally confused.

“What about Mikado?”

“Nothing. Just wondering if you’ve made any progress. Have you kissed yet?”

“K-kissed…? Mikado and I aren’t like that,” Anri protested, turning red.

Mika cackled and leaned in. “Oh, come on, I’m teasing you! But you’ve noticed that he likes you, right?”

It was a direct question, but Anri couldn’t answer. She just hung her head.

“…”

“Well, that’s okay. Just come and ask me anytime you have questions about stuff—anything at all! As long as I’m not doing anything with Seiji, I’ll give you advice!”

“That’s not exactly an unconditional guarantee,” Seiji grumbled.

But Anri couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She merely said, “Thank you,” with a rare, warm smile.

That day, reception room, Jack-o’-Lantern Japan Talent Agency, Higashi-Nakano

“Okay, okay! I like that you’re here ahead of schedule—that’s good! No wonder you’re our top piggy banks, our money trees, our premier talent! Our other kids should take a page from your book: humble even after success!”

The fluorescent lights bounced softly off the polished white floor of the office building, giving it a clean, crisp look. But the atmosphere clashed with a voice that was neither clean nor crisp.

The man had white skin and slicked-back blond hair, dark sunglasses and facial stubble, a white suit and crocodile-skin bag, expensive rings and a thick cigar in his mouth—the Hollywood image of a fat-cat villain if there ever was one.

This odd fellow was Max Sandshelt, president of Jack-o’-Lantern Japan, and he rarely ever spoke at less than full excitement.

“From what I hear, you’ve been waiting for twenty minutes. Well, that’s fabulous. You make your boss feel like a real big shot! Is this like that story about the time Monkey Hideyoshi warmed up the sandals of Shogun Nobunaga while he was a servant? Wait…what if Mr. Yuuhei and Miss Ruri warmed up sandals with their own backsides…? Wouldn’t that bring in a fortune if you sold ’em online?!”

“There is a high likelihood that your sales pitch will be shot down, so I recommend scrapping the idea—unless you are hoping for the board to relieve you of your duties, sir. As far as the meeting time is concerned, you were twenty minutes late. They arrived exactly on time. Please learn from their example,” said his secretary, her words so cold they chilled to the bone.

“…”

The man winced, then walked over to Yuuhei and Ruri—who were standing in front of the sofa in the middle of the room—and clasped their shoulders, one hand to each person.

“Hey, time is a minor detail. Compared with the full thirteen-point-six-billion-year history of the universe, twenty minutes doesn’t even exist. Time is money? Yes! Exactly! But life isn’t all about money. You know? What’s truly important is heart and soul! These money-grubbers, you can see the sickness in their faces. How are you gonna be the singer beamed into everyone’s living room looking like that? My point is, don’t complain about me being twenty minutes late!”

Then he gasped, realizing something, and turned around to face his secretary. “Hey! I think I may have just said something profound! Write that down!”

“Your excuse for being late?” asked the secretary, her gaze icy, but she did jot down a note.

Yuuhei was as expressionless as ever while his bizarre employer carried on, but Ruri looked around uncomfortably, unsure of how she should be acting.

I’m still not used to how…excitable he is…

Despite that, she didn’t dislike him. If anything, a personality this large was just the thing to help her forget the nightmares from her previous agency.

Max snapped his fingers in a sign to his secretary. She placed a document envelope on top of the reception desk, bowed, and left the room.

“?”

As Ruri watched, Max picked up the envelope and said gravely, “Er, Mr. Yuuhei, do you mind turning toward the corner of the room? I’m not sure if you should see what I’m about to pull out from this envelope. But I still want you to listen, so focus your ears back behind you. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Yuuhei. The megastar followed the odd instructions without a complaint, turning to face the wall.

“? ? ?”

As the question marks piled up over Ruri’s head, Max took a photograph from the envelope and handed it to her facedown.

“We got this in the mail yesterday, along with a very familiar extortion note. Probably from that stalker of yours.”

“…!”

“Maybe the best option is not to show stuff like this to our brightest stars, for your own safety…but my stance is always to come clean and find a solution ASAP. I want your help so we can turn this stalker in or bury him in the darkness forever,” Max said. He seemed to feel no hesitation about bringing up the s-word topic around Ruri. She nervously took the photo and turned it over.

“…? …!!!”

The instant she recognized its contents, she gasped, the breath caught in her throat, and her skin went an even paler shade of white. Max started to ask her something, then found that her response confirmed his suspicions.

“So it’s real. It didn’t seem the same as those obvious fakes scattered around our shoot locations, so I thought it was best to check, just in case.”

“B-but…how…?”

Her eyes were fixed on her own image in the middle of the photograph. Her body trembled.

Dozens of seconds passed in silence. To Ruri’s senses, the moment felt several times, ten times as long.

Max shrugged and muttered, “The longer this silence goes on, the more Mr. Yuuhei looks like some kinda Japanese ghost in the back… It’s freakin’ me out. At any rate, you have any idea who might’ve sent this photo?”

“Um…before that…”

“Hmm?”

“Can I show this to Yuuhei, too?”

Yuuhei came back from the corner of the room when they called him. Ruri looked down at the floor and handed him the picture.

“…”

He looked it over in silence.

In the center of the blurry photo was a woman, obviously Ruri. Despite her eyes being covered, that pale skin and her attractive features were identifiable at a single glance.

The setting of the photo was a room in some kind of building.

A window was visible, but the blinds were closed, so you couldn’t see outside.

There were numerous strange details.

Hardly any furniture of any kind in the picture.

A blue canvas sheet on the floor instead of a rug.

Men in suits surrounding her, all of them wearing some kind of mask.

And strangest of all, blood dripping from Ruri’s wrist, which one of the men was collecting in a wineglass.

For the several seconds that Yuuhei held the photo, Ruri flashed back through her memories of that horrible event.

The color of her blood.

The men laughing.

And…the sight of her father.

The images flickered through her mind one after the other, snippets of statements ringing in her ears.

“This is her?”

“I’ve seen her in the magazines.”

“I’m getting too excited for my age.”

“This isn’t a game, Mr. Adabashi.”

“Hmm…but is it true?”

“Well, there is indeed something otherworldly about her features.”

“We gave her a ‘routine health test’ that indicated her true nature.”

“Actually, I’m excited enough that I don’t even care if she’s human.”

“Mr. Adabashi, please control yourself.”

Shall we give it a test?”

“Are you sure, Kujiragi?”

“I don’t mind.”

Along with the sound of the voices, she also felt the returning sensation of something cold being inserted into the flesh of her arm. Right after the cold came searing pain that shot up and down her spine, causing convulsions from brain to toes.

Why me?

Why this?

Why is it happening?

All of the whys bounced around her head. Only the intermittent flashes of agony told her body that this wasn’t merely a nightmare.

“…Incredible. The wounds just close right up.”

“Especially now. It’s the middle of the night.”

“Does she even age?”

“We won’t know except through the passage of time.”

“But it’s worth a test.”

“Where did President Yodogiri find her?”

“He recently learned about the Hijiribe bloodline.

“The house was burned, and she was gone…

“But he saw her photo in a film magazine by chance.

“The resemblance was so striking, he had to check.”

“And the tests were positive?”

“Very, very lucky, that Yodogiri.”

“You need luck in this line of work.”

“It’s good to hear that her cells are special, even within the family.”

“Do you suppose that means…we have a chance, too?”

“Want to try sucking her blood, just to see?”

“Then you’ll all be accomplices.”

A variety of voices rattled as her memories jumped through time.

The part where they sipped her blood, as shown in the photo, was only the very beginning.

More images, sickening just to think about, popped into her mind before vanishing again.

All the while, echoing in her brain was the soft and horrible voice of Jinnai Yodogiri.

“Hello there, Ruri. You’ve got another meeting with Mr. Adabashi’s group today.

“You don’t want your monstrous identity to be revealed, after all…

“And you certainly don’t want the rest of the world to know what they’ve done to you, do you?

“Don’t be mistaken—I’m not doing these things to you out of hate.

“If anything, they’re for your own good.

“Your entire being can be saved for this mere price.

“You don’t need to understand what I mean now. It will come in time.”

“In time,” she did understand—but there was still no meaning to his actions.

Everything Yodogiri said was nonsense.

But she was already losing her ability to be skeptical of his claim.

Ruri headed to her concerts, expression as fixed in place as a doll’s.

Only when she acted or sang could she actually regain control of herself.

The moment she could use her own voice to sing her songs in front of people who didn’t know about her soiled self, her inhuman nature, or the dark secrets of Yodogiri Shining Corporation.

The moment she could overwrite everything and play a different version of herself.

That moment was the only thing that supported her and kept her mind whole.

The sight of the fans who watched her with tears in their eyes helped keep her on her feet.

The fictional worlds that enveloped the characters she played helped keep her heart intact.

She refused to cross the line.

She denied her own mind’s collapse.

But that would reach a breaking point soon.

“Your father came by.

“After your mother disappeared, and he vanished, too, following the fire.

“He said, ‘Give back my daughter.’

“I think he’s realized who we are.

“So, to put it simply, well, we asked him to leave for now…

“But we’re the only ones who know where to find him. Do you understand?

“If you love your father, you can make things much, much easier for us all by playing our obedient, faithful ‘product.’”

It was simple.

She learned by coincidence that her father was dead.

She’d been trying to find information on his whereabouts by searching the Internet and eventually crossed paths with a man who went by the username Shinichi Tsukumoya, who gave her what she wanted to know for free.

That was the first step to her eventually learning the truth.

Yodogiri and his people had already murdered her father.

The “accomplices” who drank her blood had covered up everything.

All traces of the murder, all tracks of her father, even the tiniest memento of him.

She remembered screaming.

Oddly enough, she was able to calmly process that she was screaming.

Ruri Hijiribe remembered the moment—the exact instant that the monster within her was born.

It wasn’t an awakening of the blood. In fact, nothing bodily changed at all.

But there was a monster born in her mind.

It would later be hailed in the newspapers as “Hollywood,” then promptly disappear—a murderous monster bent only on revenge.

Her mind returned to the beginning.

The scene in the photograph, the moment when all this began, came to life.

That was the first day in the process of her destruction.

The day she learned that she had inhuman blood in her veins—via a conversation among strangers.

The day those strangers drank the blood flowing from her arm.

It was all absolutely insane. Like some kind of demon-summoning ritual.

But there was no demon, of course. She simply lost blood, lapped up by others to no effect.

The concept of the blood that flowed from her body, trailing into the mouths of unfamiliar men, filled her with an unbearable nausea.

This photograph was taken right in the midst of that nauseating ritual.

She decided to show it to Yuuhei, even as she felt that it would be the end of everything.

Whether he rejected her or accepted her, she would live with the decision.

He had saved her life and her heart once before—he alone was worthy of being her judge.

Whether he insulted her for being defiled or gave her kind words of pity and mercy, Ruri Hijiribe would accept anything that Yuuhei did.

“…”

He stared at the photograph in silence.

Her expression tense, Ruri began to explain, “Earlier…when I tried to tell you about my past…you said that you didn’t need to hear it.”

“I did.”

“But at this point…I think I really should tell you…”

It took all her determination to begin the discussion, but Yuuhei’s answer was not quite what she expected.

“Do you really think that telling me is going to improve the outcome?”

“Huh…?”

“I think you’re kind of shocked by this. We should wait until you calm down. When you’re rattled, it’s best not to rush into any hasty decisions.”

“…”

“My words mean nothing. Only you can overcome your past.”

They were like lines from a movie hero. In fact, he might as well have been quoting from his own past scripts—but Ruri, who’d been feeling desperate and despondent, was as stunned as if he’d dumped freezing water on her.

She stammered and hemmed as he placed the photo back on the table, facedown.

Max then decided that it was the best time to say, “Wow, you two really make a great couple. You know, we sold out of your new photo album, Miss Ruri, so why don’t we put out a combined book full of couple photos of you two?”

And then, without missing a beat, he continued directly into the topic at hand. “If you’d just told me this stuff from the start, I could’ve tried to help! Showbiz is full of secrets, my girl… You should never keep your secrets to yourself. Your secrets belong to the entire agency! That’s right—all for one! What’s yours is mine! When I first came to Japan, I didn’t know how things worked, so I took on all those vampire tabloid writers myself with a cross and stake, whoopin’ ass left and right…”

“…!”

It all sounded like a joke coming from him, but at the end, Ruri twitched and trembled.

Yuuhei put an arm around her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

As usual, there was no expression on his face, but somehow, those cold doll-like eyes calmed her down.

Meanwhile, Max nodded and grunted as he slid the photo back into the envelope, not losing an ounce of his general state of agitation. “Well, if it’s real, there are options we can take. If you have any idea where this photo came from, tell me. This Jinnai Yodogiri…I heard he was bad, but this is extreme…”

“…”

“Your biggest selling point is your squeaky-clean image. What kind of idiot puts that type of talent into this niche type of adult video?!”

“…Huh?”

“It’s obvious from your expression that you’re really disgusted, not acting… I respect any woman who goes willingly into adult films as an actress, but the thought of any man who forces an unwilling subject into a film like this makes me sick! Hang on…that’s still a crime here, too, right?”

Ruri murmured, taken aback by his unexpected comment. He leaned forward and patted his agency’s prize talent on the shoulders. “It musta been hard…but it’s all right now. Yuuhei Hanejima will heal the scars you bear! And as his employer, that basically means that I will be the one who healed you. So whenever times are tough, think of my face to get through it. Then you’ll have a happy new year! That’s a new you, one step closer to the grave, a journey made in hell! Hey, that gives me an idea: Your photos should be maid and butler themed.”

He smacked a fist into his palm and continued, “Good idea. Brilliant! And Yuuhei’s sequel to Silence of the Manservants is about to be unveiled, so we can use that as a promotional tie-in. I gotta get the secretary to jot that one down! Hang on, guys. Sorry? Yes! Sorry!”

And he scrambled out of the room.

The stream-of-consciousness rambling left Ruri with her mouth agape. At her side, Yuuhei said, “I think…he might actually understand the truth.”

“Huh?”

“That the picture wasn’t really from the set of a triple-X film.”

Yuuhei looked at the doorway the president left through and said reassuringly, “He might be selfish, dedicated to his greed, and an unabashed outlaw, but at least he’s a nice outlaw. I think you can trust him.

“He’s just really, tragically awkward, just like me.”

The same day, afternoon, on the street, Ikebukuro

“Mraaaow.”

A precious sound trickled from the pet carrier in Anri’s hands. Dokusonmaru was rolling on his back inside, tummy catching the light that slipped inside the case.

Mika’s face crinkled into a grin as she fawned over the cat. “Aww, you’re so cuuute! Widdle-widdle-widdle!”

She wiggled her fingers next to the bag, and the cat squirmed one paw in response.

“A lot of people talk to cats the same way they talk to babies, huh?”

“Maybe they’re pretending that it’s their own child.”

“No way, our babies will be much, much cuter!” Mika exclaimed.

For some reason, something about this mushy sentiment made Anri’s cheeks color, and she had to look away.

“The problem is that both Shinra and I are available at irregular times, due to the nature of our work. We might not be able to have someone watching the kitten at all times,” Celty had typed on her PDA. With everyone else at a loss for a solution, Anri volunteered to take the cat—and here she was now.

She owed Celty for countless kindnesses, so she wanted to make that up to her, no matter what form it took.

Shinra said that he felt satisfied with the cat in Anri’s care, while Shizuo’s group said that they could rely on someone Celty trusted—and just like that, the cat was with her.

It was all so quick and easy that Anri began to worry if it was really right for her to be responsible for an animal with so little resistance from them. Then Yuuhei said, “Dokusonmaru doesn’t take to bad people. It’s all right,” and that settled the matter.

“Man, you’re so lucky, Anri. You got to meet Yuuhei Hanejima and Ruri Hijiribe!” Mika laughed.

Anri shook her head. “They’re supposedly such famous celebrities that I got nervous and could barely say anything…”

Of course, the real reason she couldn’t speak was the strange reaction that Saika had to Ruri, but she couldn’t say that here. She just smiled sadly like she often did and said, “Thanks for hearing me out today.”

“Don’t even mention it! Seiji said you could come with us, so it’s no problem at all.”

After that, Anri split off from the couple and headed back home.

Mika asked her if she wanted to get something to eat, perhaps at a restaurant that allowed pets, but Anri didn’t want to interrupt her time with Seiji, so she took the cat and headed out into Ikebukuro.

She failed to notice the shadow who incessantly watched her progress.

Celty’s group had been naive. They assumed that the stalker would not bother with Anri, since she had no connection to Ruri.

They assumed that a stalker whose activities were outside the bounds of common sense would abide by rationality.

The price for that lack of caution was the lurker trailing Anri now.

Oddly enough, just like the time when the slasher attacked Anri half a year earlier.

However, there was one difference between this person and the slasher.

The shadow watching Anri now continued to follow, neither approaching nor falling back, and when she got to her apartment, it simply vanished without taking action.

As if satisfied with just knowing her address.

The only thing the shadowy figure did, just before disappearing, was open its flip phone and turn on the screen for a brief moment.

At that moment, Russia Sushi, Ikebukuro

“Okay, today we have new rolled sushi. Little norimaki rolled in big norimaki. Whirlpool and rolled omelet and whirlwind put to shame, you try brand-new matryoshka roll,” said Simon, proudly advertising the restaurant’s newest item, while Mika and Seiji sat at the counter, ordering a few cheap individual items for an early dinner.

Simon’s new item was an extremely narrow roll of typical norimaki sushi rolled inside of a medium-sized norimaki, which was itself the center of a large norimaki, making one giant norimaki in total. The ingredient at the center of the smallest roll was simmered seaweed, making the entire thing no more than layer upon layer of seaweed and rice, just like the traditional Russian nesting dolls.

Seiji lifted the sushi to his mouth and asked Mika, “What’s wrong? You seem down.”

“Huh? …Oh, geez! How could I be down when I’m at your side?!” She laughed hastily.

“…Is it about Sonohara?” he asked.

“…Yeah,” she admitted reluctantly, unable to deny this.

Mika looked down at her tea for a moment, then back at Seiji. “I couldn’t help but realize that she’d ask Celty for help and advice, but she wouldn’t come to me.”

No one would have told her that, but Mika was aware that Anri had been seeking advice from the dullahan. Mika likely knew this through a wiretap of some sort, but Seiji didn’t touch the topic. He looked down and dipped his head toward her.

“She’s probably being mindful of the both of us, which means that in a way, it’s my fault. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Seiji! In fact…I was just feeling bad about it because I haven’t gone and hung out with Anri in a while, either…”

As a matter of fact, during their first year at Raira Academy, she had never once given Anri this much thought. That was because Anri had found her own place in the world: with her two new friends, Mikado and Masaomi.

As Anri grew happier and more outgoing, bit by tiny bit, Mika felt reassured in her choice to delve into love with Seiji.

She loved Seiji more than anyone in the world. But he wasn’t the only person in her heart, just the highest on the priority list.

Her feelings for him were different from the love that he once had only for Celty’s head, but she also had room in her heart for her close friend.

And then things changed for Anri.

The slasher incident caused a rift between the Dollars and the Yellow Scarves, and as a result, Masaomi Kida left Ikebukuro.

Mika noticed that this event had thrown a dark shadow over Anri’s mind. Anri did still reach out and talk to Mikado—but the last few months had grown steadily worse for her.

Despite knowing the truth through her own unique sources, Mika wasn’t able to reach out to Anri directly to discuss these things. She continued living in her love with Seiji, despite the self-loathing.

On the inside, she felt just a bit lonely. A loneliness that couldn’t be filled with Seiji’s love or hers for him.

And she wasn’t cowardly enough to use Seiji to fill the hole left by worry for her friend.

“Anri’s got the ability to look at things very objectively, even when they’re centered around her…but it also makes her feel like her own life isn’t her concern. It makes it harder to stop things in their tracks…so that she doesn’t turn away when she’s in danger.”

She sipped her tea and, for the first time in ages, said the name of a male classmate who wasn’t Seiji.

“If only Ryuugamine or Kida could act as the brakes to keep Anri in line…”

Evening, Sunshine 60 Street, Ikebukuro

“…”

Masaomi Kida was at a loss.

He stood at the intersection in front of Cinema Sunshine, watching the scenery shift around him.

It had been half a year since he’d left Ikebukuro.

He’d visited once, during the battle between the Dollars and Toramaru, but left just as quickly. It had truly been ages since he had the chance to stand around and just watch the city like this.

It hasn’t changed much. It hasn’t…right?

Sure, there were changes in the store decorations and advertisements, but Sunshine 60 Street was pretty much exactly as he remembered it.

If anything was different, it was the lack of the yellow scarves that temporarily flourished, bringing things back to the gang-less, peaceful appearance that had been the default state of things a year ago.

Students, office ladies, salarymen on the way home, foreign families—each passed by Masaomi, living in their own localized orbits of culture and atmosphere.

There were slightly more young people in their street clothes out on the street, owing to it being the first day of summer vacation. Girls lined up at the movie theater, indicating the strength of the latest Yuuhei Hanejima star vehicle.

…But I’ve got it bad, man. All the normal people just look like Dollars to me now.

He was back in town at least, but now he didn’t know where to start gathering information.

I guess this is when I should go and pay my respects to Kadota. But…I left off on such bad terms with him, and I never properly thanked him for saving me from that asshole Horada. It’ll be awkward to just show up and talk…but I just gotta do it. I need to settle all my old accounts…if I ever want to see Mikado and Anri again.

He slapped his cheeks to get his mind in gear and focused on his surroundings. He just needed to look for Kadota’s height or Yumasaki and Karisawa’s appearance.

At this time of day, the nerds would be at one of the big bookstores, perhaps Toranoana or Animate, checking out the latest releases.

Masaomi began looking around with that in mind, but after a few minutes, he had already spotted a familiar face. Or more accurately, a familiar outfit. And even more accurately, the man and his outfit were familiar to Masaomi, but the reverse was most likely not true at all.

Well, if I settle things one by one…the very first one might kill me. Sorry if I die, Saki.

He wiped the trickle of cold sweat from his brow and called out to the man in the bartender’s outfit walking behind his dreadlocked companion.

“Hey…Shizuo Heiwajima…”

“That cat your brother brought around yesterday sure was cute, though,” Tom murmured out of the blue.

“Affirmative,” Vorona agreed. “Appearance of cat scaling Shizuo’s head is accurately described as lovely.”

“If anything, I’m more of a dog person,” Shizuo griped. Even as the coworkers chatted, he was a bit preoccupied, worrying about the stalker attacking Yuuhei and Ruri.

Shit, if I just knew who it was, I could punch him up to the roof of the Sunshine building…

Unaware of the violent fantasies in his companion’s head, Tom rubbed his stomach and said, “Well, we finished up early today, and work went well, so once we turn in the collection, why don’t we celebrate a little at Russia Sushi?”

Vorona responded to her boss’s suggestion with a shake of the head. “Suggest idea similar to a declination. Taking sustenance at an establishment containing acquaintances should be avoided due to reasons of nervousness and embarrassment.”

“Don’t say that about them. They’re your fellow countrymen, right? But if you really insist, I guess we could eat sukiyaki at Mo-Mo Paradise’s Ikebukuro location. You in the mood for anything in particular, Shizuo?”

“I’m down for whatever.”

“Hmm, what should we do? Head down Meiji Street for some Okinawan food, maybe?”

The trio walked along leisurely through the neighborhood as the sun began to set. Then a shadow crossed their path.

It was a thin boy, his hair bleached blond.

“Hmm? What’s up, buddy? You want something from us?” asked Tom, assuming from the kid’s superficial appearance that he was some past challenger of Shizuo’s coming back for revenge.

But the boy lowered his head, his expression deadly serious, and said, “I’m sorry…to interrupt your work. I must make an apology…to Shizuo Heiwajima…”

“Oh yeah?” asked Shizuo, who’d been largely ignoring the boy until his name was mentioned. “Who the hell are you?”

“My name is…Masaomi Kida.”

“Masaomi Kida?” Shizuo repeated, his brow wrinkling.

Huh? I’ve heard that name before. But when? I think it was about six months ago…

Vague shreds of memories collected in the back of Shizuo’s mind.

Cold rain. Hot lead.

“…Hmm?”

A powerful shock that ran through his side and leg.

“You want someone to blame? How about the guy who gave me the orders and the gun?”

A vulgar, despicable man’s voice, covering terror with bravado.

“Masaomi Kida’s your man!”

A stumble of the leg. Approaching asphalt.

The sensations and images flickered through Shizuo’s mind.

“Oh yeah,” said his boss, Tom, not Shizuo. “You’re the Yellow Scarves guy…”

Sensing the moment of no return, Masaomi clenched his fists like a man preparing for death. Imagining the imminent possibility that his next words might end with his neck being snapped in half, he opened his mouth and firmly announced his presence.

“I was the leader of the Yellow Scarves, the guys who shot you…Masaomi Kida.”

Mikado’s apartment

“That’s weird…”

Mikado Ryuugamine sighed as he sat at his desk, facing the computer. He was looking at the admin page of the Dollars’ message board.

In order to determine the truth of the rumor that Ruri Hijiribe’s stalker was within the Dollars, Mikado was utilizing his admin access to view all manner of Ruri-related pages on the Dollars’ community site.

But he was looking at the screen in disbelief, like something strange was going on.

High school was a precious time, limited to, usually, just three years of one’s life. And summer vacation was even more precious.

He had to laugh that he was spending his first day chained to his computer inside, but he didn’t have an ounce of regret. Mikado thought about his hometown with a fresh miso rice cracker hanging from his mouth—a gift from back home.

I took the trip home early last year, but this year I warned them that I wouldn’t be back until Obon… If possible, I want to at least put a pin in this matter. I have no idea exactly how far until I’ve “put a pin” in it…but I at least need to do everything I can…

It was his childhood friend from back home who put Mikado into this state of determination.

Those memories eventually grew to include Anri Sonohara, as the trio spent its first year at Raira Academy together.

He’d gone to karaoke and bowling with other boys and girls from the school, but at lunch and after school, and during all school activities in general, the three of them were a unit.

There were times that he worried Anri wasn’t hanging out with other girls, but he enjoyed the time they spent with Masaomi so much that he never remembered to actually broach the topic with her.

And now, Masaomi was missing from the picture.

Time had stopped inside of Mikado until the day of Masaomi’s eventual return.

When that happened, all three would openly discuss their secrets so that time could progress once more.

At least, that’s what Mikado believed.

The change in Mikado happened during the holiday in May.

The incident that unfolded had left him shocked in many ways. The violence of the “extraordinary” that he’d sought so fervently had left his world just a little bit bent.

Now, he intentionally avoided the chat room where he was able to talk with Masaomi. He was determined not to let the online connection water down his commitments.

Mikado was forgetting the rush of emotion he’d felt when first chatting with his friend, under the username of Bacura.

Perhaps that was just the extent of the shocks from that Golden Week incident.

But Mikado’s beliefs did not change. When he and Masaomi and Anri were together again, they could finally keep moving forward.

That feeling hadn’t changed in the slightest; what had shifted was the idea that he had to protect this place for the three of them, this home to return to, with his own hands. Or if needed, to build it himself.

That thought alone altered Mikado Ryuugamine’s gears—and sent him rolling in a totally different direction.

Mikado sat back from his long session of online tinkering and sighed.

…So that’s what it is.

Whatever this epiphany was, he continued his work and started downloading a number of files from the Internet.

And then…

“…? Huh? …?!”

When he opened the image files to look at them, the expression froze on his face.

And when he read the text files attached to them, the color from his face began to drain away.

“No way…”

After several seconds of trembling, he quickly pulled out his phone and placed a call to a number on his contacts list.

“………Ah! Hello? It’s me…”

“What’s wrong, Mikado? You sound short of breath,” Aoba greeted him from the other end of the line.

Mikado spoke his orders hastily, in a tone of voice that he rarely ever used:

“Sorry to bug you, but…I need you to get your people together right now.”

Somewhere in Tokyo, a man said, “The Dollars haven’t changed a bit.”

The woman at his side said something in response, but he ignored it and continued talking, juggling two knives all the while.

“From what I hear, Mikado’s undergone a bit of a change lately… I can’t wait to see how he’s grown for myself.”

The young man grinned, just as the cell phone in his waist pocket played a ringtone.

“Hello? Anything interesting to mention?” he asked, his voice cheerful for the party on the other line. But the smile suddenly vanished from his eyes, remaining only on his mouth.

“Ahhh. Shizu and Kida, eh…?

“I wonder—why is Shizu still breathing, anyway?”

“You’re that kid who was running around hitting on girls last year, aren’t you?”

“…”

“I see… So you’re the one whose name those sick bastards were shouting,” Shizuo said, cracking his neck and taking a step forward.

“Hey, Shizuo,” Tom warned, but when he saw the look on his partner’s face, all he could do was shrug his shoulders.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m not here to make excuses,” Masaomi said and gritted his teeth.

Yup, I’m about to die.

He sensed a tingling in his fingertips and clenched his fists tighter.

I thought I might squeak through this, but I might really be a goner this time.

Preparing for the punch to crack his neck or perhaps just rip his entire head loose, Masaomi felt his life start flashing before his eyes.

I’m sorry, Saki. You deserve better, Anri, Mikado.

But instead, the only thing Shizuo did was poke Masaomi on the forehead with his index finger and scold, “I’m older than you, y’know. You gotta treat me with a bit more respect.”

“…Huh?” Masaomi mumbled, his head tilted backward.

“I heard the story from Celty. Those punks were just bullshitting around, weren’t they?”

“Celty?”

Masaomi didn’t know the Headless Rider’s name, but he recovered from his confusion quickly enough and protested, “But still, the root of the whole matter lies with me! If I’d taken proper control of my men, you wouldn’t have been shot…”

Shizuo’s right hand loomed within reach of Masaomi. It approached his forehead again, the thumb holding down the middle finger this time.

“I told you to be respectful.”

He playfully flicked the boy’s head.

“Whup!”

Masaomi grunted in the manner of a sound effect and fell to the ground.

It was a total overreaction for your ordinary forehead flick, but given that it came from Shizuo, its power was probably more like a nonlethal rubber bullet used for pacifying crowds.

Shizuo stood over the boy on the ground, arms crossed, and said, “Well, I’ve wiped out those stupid punks, and I don’t have any ill will toward the Yellow Scarves…but I’m guessing that alone wasn’t enough for you. So consider that forehead flick as settling our account.”

Tom crouched down next to the boy. “I wasn’t gonna say anything since you didn’t seem mad about it,” he mumbled, examining the state of Masaomi’s eyes, which were rolling upward from the effects of a concussion, “but can’t you hit him any softer than that?”

“That’s weird… Did I really do it that hard…? I mean, even for me, it’s still just a flick of the finger, you know?”

Shizuo tried flicking himself in the forehead a number of times. The impact made very un-flick-ish sounds like thwud and kaplam, but Shizuo himself didn’t react much beyond a slight tilt of the head.

“I announce a question. Forehead flick is a secret technique of what martial art? It does not exist among the knowledge of any book I have read. From the movement of the finger, I theorize it is a type of finger-pointing.”

“So I’m guessing you don’t know about the hand-slapping game, either…”

Meanwhile, Masaomi’s vision was finally starting to clear up.

The dude in dreads leaned over and asked, “Hey, you okay?”

“Uh…s-sorry.”

“Don’t hold it against him. That was his way of going easy on you. I know that you might think getting a good solid punch would be a better way to square up your account with him…but that could easily be fatal, y’know?”

“…Good point.” Masaomi grimaced, but he was still uneasy, like there was something eating at him.

Is that really it? I mean, Shizuo got shot…right…? Is that…all it takes…for me to…?

Emotions swirled inside of Masaomi’s head.

Sensing that inner conflict, Tom stretched and said, “Hey, if you’re not hurt that bad, lucky you. By the way, kid—you hungry?”

“Huh?”

“Whenever anything big happens, the best thing is to stuff yourself with food. C’mon, I’m buying.”

Umm…this is the guy…who’s always with Shizuo, right…?

He stared at the older man, who rubbed his neck and explained, “My name’s Tanaka—I’m Shizuo’s boss. Call me Tom. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, it seems like a real pain in the ass, but I’m betting that you’ll be better off getting it all out of your system, right? And I don’t like knowing that my employee’s involved in something that isn’t quite cleared up all the way. It makes me uneasy. So let’s get something good to eat and make sure everything is even between us.”

“But…I came here to apologize. Why should…?”

“Oh, I didn’t say I was gonna buy it for free.”

“Huh?”

Masaomi unsteadily got to his feet, and Tom smirked at him.

“You were the leader of the Yellow Scarves or whatever, right? I’m wondering what’s going on with them now… Mind telling me whatever you might know?”

Anri’s apartment

“There, there.”

Anri scratched Dokusonmaru’s throat with the tip of her finger. The cat rolled back onto the floor, spreading its limbs and displaying its belly. She rubbed his tummy with her palm, and he squealed, “Nauu,” and proceeded to writhe with pleasure.

Once she had set up the cat’s litter box and other items from the carrier bag, Anri didn’t have much else to do other than play with the kitten.

She saw much of her childhood cat in Dokusonmaru, and she found herself fondly reminiscing.

The calico cat had been like a friend to young Anri, back when her home was attached to the family business, the curio shop Sonohara-dou.

She had no fun memories from back then, but at least the ones of her mother and that cat had been a sort of solace to her.

Until Anri’s father kicked the cat and killed it.

I guess even celebrities like Ruri Hijiribe have their troubles…

Anri hadn’t paid much attention to the sense of something abnormal she picked up around the actress. After all, she herself wasn’t entirely human, either, to say nothing of Celty.

But there was no feeling of camaraderie from that, and she couldn’t even tell if Ruri herself was aware of it. Anri was much more concerned about the girl being stalked than anything regarding her nature.

I wonder…if this stalker is someone like Mika. Or maybe they’re more like Niekawa…

That girl Haruna Niekawa had attacked her half a year ago. The memory saddened Anri.

Why do they do those things…? I don’t really understand…

She recalled the sensation she’d picked up from Ruri and felt a sudden chill.

Was her concern about Mikado really a normal, ordinary feeling?

Anri wasn’t human to begin with; could her instincts and concerns really be trusted?

She knew from the start that she wasn’t normal. So she couldn’t be sure if her feelings were truly accurate or not.

Just as it had been when she’d hung out with Mika Harima, the time she’d spent with Mikado and Masaomi formed a kind of baseline.

Now, one of those two people was acting strangely—similar to when Masaomi Kida had been acting strangely and got into trouble involving the Yellow Scarves.

Except this was different.

When Masaomi had been acting strange, she’d still had Mikado at her side.

But now she had no one.

Were her worries about Mikado actually accurate?

Would an ordinary person look at the situation and decide that it was actually Mikado who was being reasonable?

She had no one to answer her doubts.

“…”

Thinking about the fond days of their little trio had caused her hand to stop petting the cat. It mewed and tried to rub against her, making her smile.

Saika had no interest in cats and repeated the usual words of love inside her head, like at any other moment.

Hearing the words of love for humanity repeated en masse made her consider something: If she fused entirely with Saika, would that make her able to accept Mikado and Masaomi, no matter how much they changed?

She recalled something Izaya Orihara had once said:

“If you really want a tranquil, peaceful life, you should use that katana to slash everyone you know.”

No…

“Once you’re the queen, you’ll get what you want.”

You’re wrong… That’s wrong!

She felt revulsion in the pit of her stomach and swallowed spit.

Despite the sudden gloomy mood, Dokusonmaru wriggled and stretched. The cat’s cute, innocent nature took the sting out of her feelings, and Anri smiled and relaxed a bit.

…Huh? Wait…am I allowed to keep pets at this apartment? she wondered, a fresh concern to mull over. But soon she was back to petting the cat’s belly.

“There, there…”

Haruna Niekawa and a mysterious masked assailant: Those people were responsible for the two times Anri had been attacked at her apartment.

Now a third shadow she was unaware of watched her home—while she allowed herself to relax in a momentary haze of peacefulness.

And as she played with the cat, her mind continued only to recall her memories of Mikado and Masaomi.

Sunshine Street, Ikebukuro

“Um…why don’t we just go to Russia Sushi, then? I can pay my own way.”

At Masaomi Kida’s suggestion, Shizuo and Tom were able to convince Vorona to drop her resistance to eating at the sushi place.

“I’ve got to thank Simon for something, too, so I might as well do it now…”

“What? You know Simon, too?” Shizuo asked.

“Well, the kid was the boss of the Yellow Scarves, so you’d figure he knows people around town,” Tom said.

“…”

“…You know, I’ve been wondering, is there some painful memory you associate with the Yellow Scarves or what? If so, I’m sorry—I won’t bring it up again,” Tom said to Masaomi, who looked downcast.

Vorona, who had no illusions about being considerate, said, “There is a question. The period of existence of the Yellow Scarves easily exceeds one millennium ago by Gregorian calendar. I cannot believe its leader currently exists in modern society. Or does the boy bear a similarity to folklore beings such as the Headless Rider?”

“…Lady, the way you talk is kind of mysterious and sexy.”

The Headless Rider, huh? Speaking of which, I wonder how the Headless Rider knows Mikado. All that asshole Izaya would say was, “Why don’t you ask Mikado yourself?”

Masaomi started to grind his teeth at the memory of that hateful face but thought better of saying his name when he remembered that someone next to him would likely explode with rage on a different level if he were to hear it.

Geez, man. I hate to think of things in these terms, but if I can just wrap things up with Shizuo Heiwajima first, it’ll make it a lot easier for me to get to the other stuff, mentally speaking.

…

Actually, forget about Shizuo, what should I say if I run into Anri or Mikado?

Masaomi heaved a deep sigh and then heard…

“There is a warning. Walk facing forward and hear closely,” Vorona murmured, her voice sharp. Masaomi held his breath.

“?” “…?” “What is it?”

They all turned to her in confusion, and she hissed, “Please face forward.”

While her strange version of Japanese had sounded goofy before, Masaomi felt his skin prickle at the suddenly serious tone of her voice.

“We are being trailed. Distance is slowly closing. Hostility is unknown, but caution is required.

“…I suspect the follower is not alone.”

Shinra’s apartment

“Anyway, I’m going to tour a bit of the area around Yuuhei’s apartment, followed by Ruri’s, just in case. She might be staying with Yuuhei now, but the stalker could break into her apartment while she’s away.”

Celty reached for the front door, helmet in place.

“…That’s fine, but I’m worried about something.”

“What is it?” she asked, tilting the helmet.

“If you’re prowling around outside of the apartment…,” Shinra hesitantly admitted, “won’t the cops think…you’re the stalker…?”

Just minutes after that typical conversation ended and Celty had left, the doorbell rang, and Shinra turned to the door with suspicion.

After such a brief interval, he would normally assume it was Celty coming back for something she forgot, but she’d taken the spare key when she left. Ever since the incident with Aoba, Shinra began locking the door even when he was home, and Celty slipped the spare key into the sleeve of her shadow-made riding suit.

Given that they’d just been discussing the stalker, Shinra headed to the door with some trepidation. On the other side of the peephole was a man wearing a delivery company uniform.

Shinra’s apartment was deluxe, but the building was fairly old, and it still didn’t have a unified entrance or delivery box for the purposes of tenant security.

“Delivery!” said a voice on the other side. Shinra opened the door, relieved.

He left the chain on, just in case. He was going to sign the form and have the man leave the package outside.

“Hang on, I’ll get my stamp…”

Shinra reached into the pocket of his white coat when—

At that very moment, an ugly piece of metal squeezed through the gap.

It was the heavy black shape of a large chain cutter.

By the time Shinra noticed it, he was too late.

It snapped through the metal chain, setting the loose ends free.

“…”

The door slowly opened all the way, revealing the grinning delivery worker.

“I’m guessing…you’re not a deliveryman,” Shinra quipped in a cold sweat.

The man twirled and contorted, throwing himself into a high kick at the side of Shinra’s head.

Shinra felt his brain jolt against his skull and veins on his face snap.

Oh, that was…bad…

It’s like being slapped…by…Shizuo…

I’m gonna pass………

Wait, why is he gearing up? Is he going for…another…one…?

Am…am I going…to………die?

His consciousness stretched, pulling everything into slow motion, as the man dressed as a delivery worker drove another kick into Shinra’s body.

 Cel………ty.

Let’s see, Yuuhei’s apartment should be right around…here.

Celty was taking a route to her destination using narrow roads and back alleys to cut down on the likelihood of drawing her nemesis’s attention.

When she came to a section that featured a number of similar buildings all in a row, she took out her phone to get an accurate location.

She had loaded up the navigation screen and was looking for Yuuhei’s address when the screen shifted and a ringtone played.

Celty looked at the displayed number and paused before she hit the answer button.

Huh? It’s from Mikado. Why now?

Had he perhaps realized that Anri was worrying about him? Did Mikado learn that she had come to talk to Celty and thus tried to make contact for his own advice?

That was her reason for hesitating initially, but then another thought occurred to her.

Huh…? But why is he calling rather than texting?

If he was calling her, knowing that she couldn’t speak back, perhaps it was an emergency. She quickly hit the call button and pressed the phone to her helmet.

“Hello? Is that you, Celty?”

Mikado’s voice echoed inside the helmet, making it loud and clear for Celty’s mysterious sense of hearing.

“If you can hear me, tap the mic on your phone!”

Celty tapped next to the little mic hole.

Mikado replied with a mixture of relief and haste, “That’s good! I’m going to continue talking under the assumption that you can hear me! Are you at your apartment now?!”

What could it be? Does he want to come over to talk about something?

Very quickly, she realized that could not be the case. The level of anxiety and distress in his voice suggested something more important than something that simple.

“If you’re away from home at the moment, go back immediately!”

“?”

“I’m not worried about your safety…but Shinra could be in trouble!”

Night, Ikebukuro

“…Ah, well. There, you see?”

The young man in the black coat ended the phone call report he’d received and smirked to himself. “Look at that mess. All over some stupid gang squabble that even the yakuza wouldn’t bother with. I feel for Shinra.”

He got to his feet, chair creaking, and looked at the scenery out the window.

It was the top floor of a fancy apartment building close to Ikebukuro Station.

He gazed out at the activity around the station, leering with the excitement of a child facing a grand feast, and he murmured to himself:

“They’re all helpless without me around.”

Chat room

Kid: Seems a bit quiet in here tonight.

Sharo: It feels like only the new people are here.

Chrome: Maybe we’ve just been talking in here for so long that the old-timers feel awkward about joining in.

Sharo: You’re probably overthinking it.

Sharo: Bacura’s not showing up today, right?

Saki: That’s right. He’s busy.

Kid: I see. I can only participate on my phone, so forgive the slow typing.

Sharo: Whoa, seriously?

Sharo: You chat crazy fast for being on a phone. Major respect.

Saki: That’s amazing.

Kid: You’re giving me too much credit.

Sharo: Does anyone have anything interesting to talk about? I’m so bored every single day. I’m on my feet all day, and my sister bugs me about taking the job seriously. She sure is bossy for being flat.

Saki: Breast size has nothing to do with that.

Kid: That would be sexual harassment.

Chrome: I happen to have an interesting topic.

Sharo: Wait, lol, I don’t wanna get sued over this, lmao. Anyway, if my sister saw this, she’d split my head open for sure.

Kid: What kind of topic?

Sharo: Hmm? Oh, you got something to share, Chrome?

Chrome: It’s about Ruri Hijiribe’s stalker… Apparently, the culprit is within the Dollars after all. I heard this from a friend, though, so I can’t vouch for its accuracy.

Chrome: Oh, and this is just between us. Do not repost this info on any Ruri Hijiribe fan club boards, please.

Kid: I understand.

Saki: My lips are sealed.

Sharo: Well, either way, this chat room will show up on Internet searches, right?

<Private Mode> Chrome: How about this, then?

<Private Mode> Kid: Oh.

<Private Mode> Kid: You can do this?

<Private Mode> Sharo: Whoa, what is this?

<Private Mode> Saki: It’s private mode. Sometimes I use it with Bacura.

<Private Mode> Chrome: I’ve selected all members currently participating in the chat to this private mode discussion.

<Private Mode> Chrome: Now it won’t show up on searches. In fact, it doesn’t even get saved in the log.

<Private Mode> Sharo: Hard-core!

<Private Mode> Saki: This must be serious, right?

<Private Mode> Kid: So what did you learn about the stalker?

<Private Mode> Chrome: Well…Ruri Hijiribe has a stalker, as you know.

<Private Mode> Chrome: It seems this person is on the talent agency blacklist.

<Private Mode> Kid: Oh. But the tabloid said all of those people had alibis…

<Private Mode> Chrome: Exactly. That’s the issue.

<Private Mode> Chrome: The people on the blacklist who’d been bothering Ruri Hijiribe.

<Private Mode> Chrome: They’re working together!

<Private Mode> Saki: Together?

<Private Mode> Sharo: Hmm? What do you mean?

<Private Mode> Chrome: There isn’t just one stalker.

<Private Mode> Chrome: It was different people working together, making it look like the actions of a single guy.

<Private Mode> Kid: Ha-ha, so that’s how they had alibis.

<Private Mode> Kid: It wasn’t that they all had alibis for one thing; they had different alibis for separate events, ruling them all out as a singular culprit.

<Private Mode> Chrome: Exactly.

<Private Mode> Chrome: But it’s interesting, isn’t it?

<Private Mode> Chrome: It’s on the Dollars’ site itself that this rumor is spreading.

<Private Mode> Chrome: It kind of seems like they’re having an internal battle. Isn’t that fascinating?

<Private Mode> Kid: Could be a kind of purge.

Kanra has entered the chat.

<Private Mode> Chrome: Oh my.

Kanra: Heya! It’s everyone’s favorite idol sweetheart Kanra, back in glorious action!

Kanra: What, what, what? Everyone abruptly stopped talking a few minutes ago.

Kanra: Could it be that you’re all engaging in some hot orgy in private mode?!

Kanra: Eek! That’s sexual harassment, you guys!

Kanra: Wait. What, what? These are all people whose names I don’t recognize.

<Private Mode> Chrome: Who is this…extremely excitable person…?

<Private Mode> Kid: Oh, I asked the person who invited me here.

<Private Mode> Kid: Apparently, that’s the oldest old-timer in the chat.

<Private Mode> Saki: In fact, that’s the admin of the group.

<Private Mode> Sharo: I wanna sock ’em.

<Private Mode> Chrome: Really? Wow, that’s annoying. Seems like one of those guys who tries to act like a girl online…

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