Durarara!! - Volume 8 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Running Lost @ Stalkers

Frivolous.

It should have been a frivolous incident.

Stalking incidents sometimes lead to tragedy, ending in murders or abductions.

They should never be described as “frivolous,” and yet…

Stalking of celebrities is a constant fact, and if the culprit were caught before trying to act on Ruri Hijiribe, it would all be over with.

A part of Celty clung to this idea.

Perhaps she’d been naive in some way.

Perhaps she’d been careless.

She was used to being chased around by yakuza, motorcycles gangs, even the police—and yesterday she’d had to deal with a helicopter and submachine guns.

So there was a part of her that came to underestimate the gravity of a stalking situation.

If only she’d learned about it just after Haruna Niekawa had attacked Anri Sonohara.

If only it’d been after she’d seen a news report on a serious stalking.

If she’d been able to keep in mind the alarming nature of a stalker beforehand…

She considered a number of different things she could have done, but it was too late to overturn any result that had already happened.

And the “result,” in terms of how it affected Celty…

…was bloodied on the floor, panting weakly.

Shin…ra?

When she got back home and opened the front door, she could scarcely believe the sight before her.

He was so proud of his white coat, the item of clothing that he claimed “formed the perfect contrast with your black!”

There were times that his brilliant white coat got splattered with a bit of blood—but in this case, Shinra’s coat was clearly stained in his own as he lay in the hallway.

“ ”

She tried to scream.

She tried to shout Shinra’s name.

But without a head, Celty couldn’t vibrate the air to produce those sounds. The most she could do was rush to his side and gently lift him up.

He noticed her presence but was only able to move his eyeballs in her direction.

“…a…ah…C…el…ty?”

Blood was flowing from his head and mouth. He obviously shouldn’t be talking.

And yet—Shinra still smiled.

He smiled with total relief upon seeing her face.

Or perhaps it wasn’t for his own satisfaction but an attempt to comfort her, recognizing her obvious shock and distress.

“It’s all right… This isn’t life-threatening…I think…but…I’ve broken…a few bones… I’ve been hit by Shizuo before, so I figured I could handle some punishment…but he just kept…kicking and…kicking…and…”

“Stop talking! I’ll call an ambulance!”

“No, no…not an…ambu…lance… Besides, how will you…call it?”

—!

Of course. She couldn’t speak over the phone. And she couldn’t force Shinra to make the call. But if she just called and had it on mute, couldn’t they trace the location and come for him? And she felt like she’d heard about people unable to speak, sending in faxes for help.

Paper! Where’s the paper? Oh, maybe I can turn my shadow into… No, I can’t! Oh, Shinra… Don’t die, Shinra! Don’t leave me all alone here! she thought, turning desperate.

Shinra’s eyelids drooped as he mumbled, “Call Dad…or maybe…Emilia…”

He used what strength he had left to open his eyes again, looked at Celty’s helmet, and beamed.

“Celty…that beautiful heart of yours is going to waste. You need…to…smile…more…”

And with that, he blacked out.

Stop it! Stop acting like you’re about to die!

She enveloped his body in shadow and gently lifted it into the air. Then she leaped over the side of the stairs, spreading out a fine spiderweb that allowed her to float down softly to the ground.

Down in the parking lot, Shooter gave a little whinny, just as alarmed as Celty by Shinra’s state. She attached Shinra to Shooter with shadow, then transformed Shooter’s body the way she had when transporting the snake the other day.

Taking great care not to jostle Shinra’s body, she assembled a fixture like those on soba noodle delivery motorcycles for hauling cargo and headed out as quickly as was safe.

Dammit, why…why?! How stupid am I?! How could I be so careless about a stalker?! I’m…I’m so helpless! I’ve been spending all my time with a doctor…and I can’t do a single bit of emergency aid to treat him! What have I been doing…? What have I been watching him do all along…?!

Without the face of a culprit to focus on, all of Celty’s anger was forced at herself as she raced through the night.

But while regret and anger ruled her emotions, she prayed the entire time for Shinra’s safety.

Ikebukuro

Kisuke Adabashi watched the black motorcycle as it raced past him and hissed his strange laughter: “Shehhh, shehhh.”

He leisurely took out his cell phone and sent a message to someone, then indulged in fantasy with a satisfied look on his face, as if to suggest that was the end of his job.

His trek stimulated the soles of his feet, supporting one crystal-clear vision within his mind’s eye.

A vision of collapse.

He desired for the “illusion” of Ruri Hijiribe to crumble into nothing within his mind.

Within his sight.

On the surface of his skin.

Under his feet.

Between his nails.

Atop his tongue.

Beyond his eardrums.

Along with the rhythm of his soul’s pulse.

Collapse.

Every last element that made up Ruri Hijiribe, crumbling into dust and becoming part of him. The absurd vision and the swell of desire for it from the very base of his being brought him an undeniable bliss.

Kisuke Adabashi loved Ruri Hijiribe.

But perhaps worshipped was a better word than loved.

Kisuke had lived a comfortable life, thanks to being born the son of a life insurance company executive. But a violent nature had caused others to shun him from a very young age.

When he learned that his father left for suspicious “meetings” every now and then, Kisuke assumed that he was going off to visit a mistress and decided he would blackmail him, despite this person being one of his parents.

But what he saw there was a ritual too grotesque to describe—with the upcoming model Ruri Hijiribe as an unwilling sacrifice.

Grotesque.

That had been his instinctual reaction the first time he saw it, too.

But at the same time, he recognized that thing as a girl with an inhuman air being carved up, body and mind, by normal humans—the familiar hands of his own father.

It was both grotesque and an undeniable source of excitement to him.

Not just simple twisted lust. He was consumed with an almost unbearable desire to make every part of her his.

And especially not his father’s.

He wanted to beat and defile that goddess of a girl with his own hands, to scoop out her heart and destroy everything that she was.

Kisuke Adabashi loved another person for the first time in his life at that moment—if you could call it that.

With his eyes veiled by love and admiration, he followed Ruri Hijiribe. And in the moment that his father was murdered by the serial killer Hollywood, Kisuke instantly understood.

It was none other than Ruri Hijiribe who had committed the deed.

It was nothing other than the alien, superhuman power that dwelled within her.

The instant he realized this, his admiration turned to worship.

However, his worship was not of Ruri herself, but the feeling of completeness and liberation that would come when he destroyed her. To Kisuke Adabashi, pure pleasure itself was God.

And to him, Ruri was like the Holy Mother who gave birth to what was sacred.

A man helped guide him to the Dollars’ website.

Right after his father’s funeral, he attempted to make contact with Ruri Hijiribe through his own means—running into the police on some occasions and earning the caution of a number of talent agencies, who spread his information between them.

But one day, after several months, a man reached out to him.

The very root of evil who had brought Ruri Hijiribe and his father together: Jinnai Yodogiri.

Through his help, Adabashi steadily dipped his toes into that sordid part of society, and with the information Yodogiri provided, he now effectively led the entire community of stalkers targeting Ruri Hijiribe.

It was a social place where they could all exchange information, a group within the Dollars’ website that almost no one was aware of. Only those scant few members could view the board, and they recruited by posting offers to sell secret photos of Ruri Hijiribe on the normal Dollars’ communities and watching the reactions closely to detect the scent of more of their “kind.”

Because the public-facing community was self-run by a man using the nickname “Red Carpet,” it didn’t stick out much. From there, anyone who bit on the original sales pitch could be lured to the first secret website, and from there, to more lurid and obscure places until the group had isolated the right kind of people.

These were people who would commit any crime for Ruri Hijiribe, up to and including killing the girl herself.

Adabashi never expected to recruit around ten such people in total. A number of them were already identified and blacklisted by show business companies; the entire website gave off a distinctly dangerous vibe.

Or perhaps it was just something about Ruri Hijiribe that was able to drive human beings to madness…

There was no answer to this question, so Adabashi simply and faithfully acted on his desires.

The stalkers worked on their alibis and slowly but surely closed in on Ruri.

All of them were aware of Ruri Hijiribe’s “alien” abilities, though it wasn’t clear if all of them truly believed those powers existed. But only Adabashi knew about her Hollywood secret.

That stimulated his sense of superiority and drove him to a greater degree of madness.

Destroy.

Destroy Ruri Hijiribe.

With my own hands.

In a sense, it would be impossible to physically destroy the serial killer Hollywood.

But Adabashi had an idea.

If the destruction of Ruri’s body and mind was what gave birth to Hollywood, then couldn’t he just destroy that killer’s mind, too?

The photograph Yodogiri had provided to him, he sent on to her current agency.

After a bit of time, he was going to send it to publishers and spread it over the Internet.

He could have been doing that today, for that matter, but he had other business.

Ruri Hijiribe and her lover, Yuuhei Hanejima, were starting to worry about the stalking, and they appeared to be seeking advice from acquaintances and family.

He’d been wary of the Headless Rider’s cohabitant at first, but he turned out to be nothing but a wispy, soft man in a coat. After delivering plenty of nonlethal damage, Adabashi whispered, “Ruri Hijiribe is mine,” into his ear.

If the man had any consciousness left, that information would soon reach Ruri’s ears. Around this point, the other people involved with her would be suffering similar attacks from members of the community.

What a shame. I would have liked to deal with that cat, too.

But Yodogiri had a request about the Headless Rider, so he couldn’t defy that command. In order to utterly destroy Ruri Hijiribe, in order to utterly love her, the man’s help would be necessary.

Adabashi’s mind understood this, but his heart swirled with twisted desire still.

Cat. The cat Ruri Hijiribe held.

I want to grind it into paste.

I want to love it in Ruri’s place.

A girl from Raira Academy took Yuuhei Hanejima’s cat home with her, where she apparently lived alone. Whatever their connection was, if he “destroyed” the girl and killed the cat, how much damage would that inflict on Ruri Hijiribe?

He was utterly jealous of the companion who got to perform that act, but then he considered that his pent-up desire would be unleashed by destroying Ruri herself. His eerie hissing laughter echoed through the streets of Ikebukuro.

Just then, Ruri’s singing voice emerged from his cell phone.

Adabashi allowed the song to play, indulging in it until he eventually picked up the call and savored the abrupt end of her voice, as always. But this time, his pleasure was ruined by a near scream coming through the phone.

“It’s not—it’s not what you said!”

“?”

He recognized that voice. It wasn’t Yodogiri.

It was the very man Adabashi envied—the other member of the community who was tasked with destroying the cat and the girl.

He was a former salaryman who wore a suit everywhere, and his voice screeched with what could have been taken as either pleading supplication or fury.

“Y-y-you screwed me over! What was that?! Who were those masked people?!”

“Masked…?”

“They—th-th-they ambushed me! I was trying to set the girl’s apartment on f-f-fire! And then they rushed me…… Aaaaaaaah, here they cooooome!”

“Hey, what happened?! Hey!” he shouted at the phone, but a scream was his only reply. Before long the call dropped.

“…”

Something was going on.

That much was clear.

Had Ruri Hijiribe hired bodyguards to protect the cat?

Or was it someone else connected to her?

Adabashi considered a number of different options, then banished the thoughts and leered.

The most important fact he had learned from that call was that the girl and cat were still unharmed.

“Shehhh, shehhh,” he hissed eerily, heading toward a nearby parking lot.

There he found his car and started driving it directly toward the girl’s apartment.

Despite the danger that his companion had been in, he was utterly delighted.

After all, the loss of that companion just meant that his own love for Ruri Hijiribe would be deeper and richer than before.

Near Russia Sushi, Sunshine Street

“What do you mean, we’re being followed? Some street thug?” Tom asked Vorona, keeping his voice low as they continued walking.

“I cannot provide a conclusion. But it is not the professional act of a career soldier or assassin. Extremely amateur work, but caution is advised.”

Without turning his head, Masaomi focused on the sounds his ears were picking up, while Shizuo swiveled his eyes back and forth, an eyebrow raised in skepticism.

Despite it being the onset of night, they were in the middle of the shopping district, which was as crowded as ever. Tom reset his glasses irritably and cracked his neck.

“…Either they’re victims of Shizuo who are looking for payback or someone angry at me for collecting on their debt… In either case, they aren’t going to try anything with so many people around. We can ask the boss at Russia Sushi to let us out the back. Then we can slip around and see who’s watching the…”

Vorona cut Tom off mid-speech. “Here it comes.”

“Huh?” he squawked.

Vorona spun around. There was a man approaching with something in his hands, but her abrupt movement caught him by surprise, and he froze.

That confusion lasted only a second, but that was all Vorona needed. And even if he hadn’t been startled, she still would have had the initiative on him.

“Wha…? Bwaoah!”

Her kick snaked around his body and caught him hard on the flank. A small chemical bottle dropped from the heavyset man’s hand. The cap was already open, so the liquid spilled onto the ground and the tips of his shoes.

“H-hyaaah!” he shrieked, desperately trying to remove his shoe as he clutched his bruised side. Based on the way the liquid bubbled and hissed at the toe of his shoe, it was probably some kind of acid.

“Whoa, are you tossing acid around in public? You gotta be kidding me.” Tom groaned.

Shizuo’s forehead vein pulsed. “You son of a bitch… What were you gonna do with that bottle? Huh?”

He took a step forward and reached out with one hand to lift up the heavy man—just as Masaomi noticed another person approaching Shizuo out of the corner of his eye.

This one was a short man carrying a sharp ice pick.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Are you serious?!

“Watch out!” Masaomi shouted, darting around to cover Shizuo’s back. He lifted his leg in a front kick to drop the man before he could swing the pick down—but the next moment rendered that action meaningless.

Another boy rushed in on the attacking man from the side and drove a stun gun directly into his flank.

“ ………nnzz-z-z-buh-buh-buh!”

The high-powered Taser caught him right near the kidney. The man’s muscles crackled and convulsed, and he fell writhing to the ground, still holding the ice pick.

This mysterious new boy grinned in satisfaction, then raced off without a word.

Huh? Who was that?!

Masaomi watched the boy run away, totally baffled, until his attention was drawn to a certain object that made his pulse jump to double the intensity.

It was a bandanna wrapped about the boy’s neck, detailed with a shark-teeth pattern.

Masaomi felt every hair on his body stand on end.

It wasn’t fear. It was pure shock that jolted his entire being.

Was he…a Blue Square…?

Before he could even process everything he was feeling, Masaomi had turned to Shizuo’s trio and shouted, “I’m sorry! I’ve got to go now! I’ll come back and talk to you again sometime!”

He bowed and raced off after the kid with the bandanna.

“Huh? Hey, wait,” Tom started to say, as he was wrenching the ice pick out of the short man’s hand, but Masaomi ignored him.

He recalled his reasons for returning to the city.

Why are they helping Shizuo?! Altruism? Are they plotting something?! Infighting…? Or is it just a coincidence that he had the same bandanna as them? What if I’m totally mistaken…?

Shit! I can’t get tripped up by this…now!

Masaomi dispelled the various questions that plagued him and focused on his pursuit of the boy.

There was no guarantee he would find the answer at the end of this.

But he had to keep running.

Goddamn Blue Squares…

What the hell are they plotting this time…?!

Anri’s apartment

When the text message alert went off, Anri stopped playing with Dokusonmaru for the moment and picked up the phone.

It’s from Celty.

Was she wondering how the cat was doing? Anri checked the message, expecting something trivial.

“Shinra hurt stalker here be careful Anri”

“?!”

The message had clearly been written in a hasty panic. Anri’s blood turned to ice.

She wrote back, “Are you all right, Celty?!” and glanced out the window.

For now, nothing seemed off. She thought she’d heard a noise outside earlier but had paid it no mind.

After watching and waiting for several moments, the message response arrived, still in the same minimal shorthand.

“I’m fine just took Shinra to hospital be careful Anri”

I wonder what happened…? I hope Dr. Kishitani’s all right, she thought, then realized the culprit could be after Dokusonmaru and focused on the window again.

Why would this stalker be so intent on destroying their peace of mind?

Why would the stalker hurt the person they loved so much?

It was a different kind of stalking activity than what Mika did, and Anri couldn’t understand it. Then she gasped, looking down at herself.

They cannot love without hurting…

She lent an ear to the voices of love chanting in her mind and murmured to herself.

“I guess…it’s like Saika.”

Ikebukuro

Masaomi raced through the neighborhood, chasing after the boy who resembled one of the Blue Squares. The boy glanced back at him as he ran, realizing he was being chased.

Masaomi was reminded of the past tragedy of his own making.

Don’t stop running.

His overwhelming fear of the Blue Squares had prevented him from saving someone precious to him. He’d kicked off that conflict, and yet he wasn’t able to leap into the middle of it.

Don’t…stop!

Bit by bit, his legs were starting to protest. He hadn’t sprinted in a long time.

Damn, I guess physical education was a more important class than I gave it credit for! he lamented, feeling the cost of quitting high school early, but he kept his pace after the Blue Square jockey.

The youth ahead of him ran out of the shopping district and did not come to a stop until the area was devoid of people.

“…What’s up with you?” he asked Masaomi, mouth covered by the bandanna.

Masaomi came to a stop several feet away, hands on his knees, panting and heaving. “Look…I don’t know what’s going on, but thanks for helping out back there.”

“…Doesn’t seem like you came sprinting after me all that way just to thank me.”

“Nope…and sorry if I’ve got the wrong idea…but are you from the Blue Squares?”

“!”

The boy did react to the mention of the name.

“Guess that’s bingo.”

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, suddenly cautious and with a hint of hostility.

Masaomi took a deep breath to steady his lungs and then stared the other boy directly in the eyes. “First the Yellow Scarves, now the Dollars?”

“…”

“What are you up to? Who’s leading you guys? Did Izumii get outta juvie?” Masaomi demanded, one question after another in rapid-fire.

Underneath his bandanna, the Blue Squares kid sneered. “You got somethin’ to do with the Yellow Scarves?” he spat.

“…What if I do?”

“Your age is over. And let me make it clear: I was helping the guy in the bartender outfit, on orders. I wasn’t saving you.”

“I’m relieved to hear that. That means I can hit you without worrying about who owes whom what. So you might want to answer my questions before it turns into a fight,” Masaomi menaced, shaking out his wrists. “Because I’ve got plenty of stuff to settle with you guys, going back.”

“Well, well, look who’s a hotshot. If you think you’re that tough—”

The mocking boy’s eyes drifted slightly off of Masaomi’s face.

Then his sentence was finished by another youth bearing down on Masaomi’s back with a baton.

“—then let’s see some proof!”

The police baton hurtled down at Masaomi.

Near Anri’s apartment, Tokyo

“Hey, did you find the arsonist?”

“He was a slippery bastard.”

A number of young men were wandering around a narrow alley. They wore bandannas and ski masks adorned with shark-tooth patterns and had been on the move searching for someone, but they were now getting tired and slowing to a walk.

They’d strayed quite a ways from the shopping district, and the back alley was surprisingly empty for being in the middle of the crowded metropolis.

“What’d Aoba say?”

“He should be searching around here, too…”

“Hey, there’s a car. Get over to the side.”

The youths all moved to the edge of the alley, but the car coming down the narrow road turned off its lights and decelerated.

“?”

It came to a stop right in front of them, and the driver killed the engine.

Something was wrong.

It made no sense that the car would stop in the middle of the alley to begin with. They’d all moved out of the way, so why wouldn’t it continue past them? Why stop right in front of a pack of dangerous hoodlums?

As the boys chewed on these questions, a man emerged from the car. He was thin, but beyond that, his age and demeanor were hard to determine from the streetlights.

The only distinct feature was the eerie sound of air hissing, shehhh, shehhh. They could sense something unsettling about the man.

“The hell do you want?” one of their rank demanded.

The thin man promptly walked up to the group and shrugged. “Hey, kids, I was looking for some directions.”

“Directions?”

The boys glanced at one another, not expecting that question.

Who would stop to ask directions from a gang of tough-looking guys wearing ski masks?

They looked back at the man, hackles raised—just as a high kick caught the youth closest to the man in the temple.

Victim A blacked out instantly before he even had time to scream.

The rest of the young men were briefly stunned, giving Kisuke Adabashi enough time to hiss once more and repeat, “C’mon, tell me the way.

“The way to love Ruri Hijiribe so tenderly, so delectably.”

Ikebukuro

“…Waste of my damn time.”

Grumbling, Masaomi was bleeding from his head.

He’d avoided a direct blow, but the graze had been enough to break the skin. He wiped his face with a handkerchief and looked down at the two Blue Squares at his feet.

“Well, damn. Both of you passed out? That’s ridiculous…”

They weren’t weaklings by any means, and Masaomi was an experienced brawler. If he hadn’t knocked out the first boy quickly, they probably would have taken him down together.

But he hadn’t expected to beat them both unconscious, and that made it much harder to get answers.

If I’m not quick, the cops are going to show up. Damn…guess I gotta use this.

He reached down, pulled one of the boys’ phones from his pocket, and started checking the message history. He was surprised at how guilty he felt about it, but there was no other good option now.

He at least needed to find out what the Blue Squares were up to, infiltrating the Dollars like this.

Not that I think this is really coming to Mikado’s aid…

The next moment, something in the message list caused Masaomi’s entire body to turn to ice.

MIKADO RYUUGAMINE

Right there was the name of his best friend, the one he’d been trying to help out.

And it wasn’t in the message history—it was right there in the inbox, very recent.

When Mikado Ryuugamine received word that several of the Blue Squares had been defeated, he looked sad, but his fingers continued the mechanical task of typing out directions.

“Gather a few heads near Anri Sonohara’s house and stay on guard. Do not let Sonohara notice your presence.”

Mikado knew what Adabashi’s goons were doing.

Having noticed the stalkers’ actions on the Dollars’ site, Mikado was able to view their communications using his admin privileges. Through means that were not legal, with back doors very close to virus-based hacking, Mikado seized their information.

Included in the data he pulled this evening were photos of Celty’s apartment and Shizuo’s face, among other things, presented as “info on believed acquaintances of Ruri Hijiribe.” With this came a discussion about several of the members attacking the targets.

Mikado promptly discarded the commonsense opinion that they wouldn’t dare attack out in the open. What he had seen of their communications made it absolutely clear that these people were not of sound mind.

He called Celty immediately to give her a warning—but he did not send a message to Anri, from whom he was hiding his role as creator of the Dollars.

He would protect her with his own ability, the Dollars’ ability, rather than cause her undue worry. That was his reason for not telling her anything.

While he didn’t think Shizuo really needed help, he sent a few men to stop the stalkers. But this was ultimately nothing more than an excuse he told himself.

Mikado Ryuugamine was not prioritizing Anri’s safety but his idea of the Dollars.

No one understood this, least of all Mikado.

No one…except for Aoba Kuronuma.

You idiot.

Mikado…

What are you doing…?

What the hell are you doing, Mikado?!

Impulse shot through all of Masaomi’s muscles. He ran.

Ran in the direction of Anri’s home.

Ran.

Ran.

Ran.

Ran.

He drove all his surging urges, anxiety, anger, and everything else into the ground through the soles of his feet, slicing his way through the air to push onward.

The message made it clear that Mikado was the one giving the Blue Squares their orders.

Masaomi knew they’d infiltrated the Dollars, and his trip to Ikebukuro was meant to ensure that their poisonous tentacles didn’t reach Mikado—only to find that Mikado Ryuugamine had been their first host body to leech onto.

Mikado…

The leader of the Blue Squares was supposedly some kid named Aoba Kuronuma. But it was Mikado himself who was giving them their orders.

Perhaps this Aoba Kuronuma was leading him on, or Izaya Orihara was pulling all the strings from behind the scenes.

There were a number of possible explanations, but none of them changed the inarguable fact that Mikado was the one giving the orders.

Do you have any idea what you’re doing, man…?!

Mikado seemed to think that he was purging the Dollars of all the punks and hooligans, using the Blue Squares as his private muscle.

Shit…

Masaomi knew the cause.

It was that conflict with Toramaru during Golden Week.

Goddammit… If I’d known this would happen, I would have reached out to him then…

But there was no use reflecting on the past now.

You might think you’re the king on his throne, giving orders via text from a safe space. You might think this is all a game…but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re on this side now!

Masaomi wanted to do whatever it took to stop Mikado, including storming his house and beating him if necessary. But there was something that prevented him from doing that now.

What, does that mean Anri’s in danger?

He’d been alarmed at the appearance of Anri’s name in the final message—and when he realized that someone was going after her, he leaped into action before his brain knew what he was doing.

Mikado…what the hell are you fighting against?! Dammit…dammit!

The target of his rage was actually himself.

He ran and ran, blaming himself, unable to forgive his cowardice, determined to be better than that version of himself.

Why…did I have to…?!

Dammit…!

Anri’s apartment

“…Shit…that was close.”

The salaryman panted and tried to catch his breath behind Anri’s apartment.

Somehow I made it all the way back here, and it doesn’t look like they left any guards. They ran off in a hurry somewhere. I wonder what happened.

Shit…I dropped my lighter and one of the oilcans. They’ve probably picked them up by now. That lighter was expensive, too…

Well, whatever. I have backup plans for starting a fire. I’ve got to get this job over with so I can lie in bed and imagine Ruri’s wailing face.

Bet the news of the burned bodies of the cat and girl will be a huge deal. And once they report on the connections between her and Ruri, she’ll be even more broken.

What a humbling thought. I can feel my blood surge!

The man pulled an oilcan from his work briefcase and began to spray its contents around the back of the apartment building.

Once he lit the fuel, he would rush around to the front, so that he could dump more oil on the girl’s head as she escaped out the door and light both her and the cat on fire.

The plan is perfect.

He laughed.

If anything, it was a perfect plan for getting arrested, but his imagination was unable to see that possibility.

It had nothing to do with eliminating evidence or pulling off the perfect crime. He didn’t even understand that what he was doing was a crime.

This will make Ruri even more beautiful.

When he was done spreading the oil, he pulled matches out of his pocket to light the fire.

That was when a sound that did not fit the scene reached his eardrums.

“Mewww.”

“Huh?”

An adorable, delightful sound came from behind him.

When he recognized it as the cry of a tiny kitten, he abruptly swung around—and saw a girl standing there.

“Wha…? Eh… Huh?”

“What are you doing…?” the girl asked. She was holding a pet carrier bag, out of the front of which poked a little cat head that meowed at him.

“…!”

The instant he recognized that this was Dokusonmaru, Yuuhei’s pet cat and beloved companion to Ruri, the man took a plastic bottle full of gasoline from his pocket.

“Huh—h-huh-hello… Would you crisp up a bit for Ruri’s sake?” he stammered and promptly attempted to splash the contents of the bottle on the girl.

But some kind of silver flash sank into the plastic and twisted the bottle from his hands.

“Wha…?”

He realized that he had somehow missed the fact that the girl had a sharp, shining katana in her hands.

And that her eyes were glowing red like the setting sun.

“Wh-what’s that? A k-k-k-k-katana’s not fair, is it? D-didn’t your mother ever tell you not to point that at others?” he stammered, stricken with fear.

Anri stared at him implacably and moved Saika closer to him. She was unable to fathom why her immolation would be to Ruri’s benefit.

And more importantly, she could tell that no right-minded person would attempt to kill a stranger and a cat on their first meeting.

Saika is truly remarkable if she can love even a person like him, she thought with detachment as she sank the tip of Saika into his ear.

“Gua…ah? …Ah! Aaaaahhggh?”

The voices would be eating away at him from the cut on his ear. Anri was used to them from ample experience, but to a first-time listener, it would be as if the entire world was replaced by the voices, such was the avalanche of sensation that overwhelmed Saika’s victims.

He started to lose consciousness from the voices alone, despite his only physical disturbance being a tiny cut on the ear. Anri stared at him dispassionately with just the faintest hint of anger in her eyes.

“…Forget about Ruri Hijiribe…and turn yourself in to the police for attacking Dr. Kishitani.”

What Anri didn’t realize was that while this was indeed a stalker, it was not the same person who attacked Shinra.

In fact, she had no way of knowing that the “stalker” was actually a group. And thus, she fatefully relaxed.

She told herself that the stalking incident was over.

And thus created a blind spot in her consciousness.

Behind Anri, air hissed through a narrow space.

For a moment, she wondered if Dokusonmaru had sneezed—but the sound clearly came from the opposite direction of the carrier bag.

“?!”

A chill ran through her entire body. She spun around—and felt a fierce kick slam into her side.

There was a sharp, metallic ring, and Anri’s body floated up into the air.

“…!”

She’d fought off attackers on multiple occasions before, but the impact she felt at this moment was greater than any she’d suffered against Haruna Niekawa or the masked attacker with the pruning shears. In a proper faceoff, she would have easily handled the blow with her blade, but the ambush left her unable to react, and so the kick knocked her sideways off her feet.

She slammed into the wall of the building before she could scream, driving all the air out of her lungs. The carrier bag was tossed into the air and tumbled onto the pavement with Dokusonmaru still inside.

If it weren’t for the instantaneous reaction of Saika guarding her side with the blade, the impact would have easily broken her ribs.

And yet, despite having kicked the edge of the cursed blade, the man’s foot didn’t appear to be cut.

“What a surprise…what a surprise…wasn’t it?”

The attacker examined the slice in the end of his shoe and stared at her. “If I weren’t wearing safety shoes, that would’ve slashed me… What the hell are you? Are you even human?”

“…”

She wasn’t in any state to speak at the moment, but looking into the red of her eyes caused Kisuke Adabashi no small amount of glee.

“Is it because Ruri isn’t human, either? Do all of you inhuman types gather up together…?”

Adabashi was quite matter-of-fact about the idea; he didn’t seem alarmed or frightened by Anri’s eyes in the least. He lifted his steel-plated safety shoes, preparing for the finishing blow.

But then—

“Fffhh!”

Dokusonmaru leaped out of the carrier bag, which broke open upon impact. The kitten hissed threateningly at Adabashi, then started racing away in the other direction.

“Whoa… Don’t run away now…”

Adabashi went after his top priority, the cat he’d seen cradled in Ruri Hijiribe’s arms, and completely lost all interest in Anri, who was still recovering from the physical shock of her blow.

He quickly vanished, and although Anri wanted to shout, her throat wouldn’t work, leaving only the half-unconscious man with bloodshot eyes next to her, who asked, “Are you all right, Mother?”

“Okay, we’re going to head back to Sonohara’s apartment now, sir.”

The boys wearing the Blue Squares’ bandannas over their faces bowed to the other boy with the ski mask and goggles and headed off.

So…that’s Aoba Kuronuma.

Masaomi identified the leader of the boys by the deference he received and glared at his target from the shadows. He’d noticed them on his way to Anri’s apartment, hopped over a nearby fence, and spied on them from out of sight.

I seem to remember this street as the place where Anri got attacked by the slasher before…

He stuck close to the concrete block wall, using the few hollow blocks as a little porthole to observe what was happening in the street. He could easily be charged with trespassing, hiding where he was now, but the situation was too important to worry about things like that.

Okay. If that Aoba guy gets isolated, I’ll grab him and get his story. No…wait. Should I be hiding here, or should I rush ahead to Anri’s place? But if I’m not careful along the way, those guys could easily spot me…

After several seconds of consideration, he decided that Anri’s safety was more pressing and that he should try to find a way to her apartment without being seen.

But in the next moment, a cat on the street corner meowed.

The little Scottish fold was just a kitten but raced down the asphalt with a kind of feral athleticism rarely seen in animals its age.

“Whoa, what’s with that cute little cat?”

“Huh? Isn’t that…?”

The Blue Squares noticed the animal approach, then race between and past them—and a few seconds later, Masaomi spotted something that was an absolute 180-degree shift from the sweet little kitten.

—?!

A thin man, wiry with muscle, appeared on the next street, his eyes glittering. He raced toward the boys, who had their backs to him while watching the kitten; leaped high off the ground; and planted a spinning kick right to the neck of one of them.

“Out of the way!” Adabashi hissed as the boy’s body flew through the air. The hapless target fell to the ground, taking the boy with the ski mask down with him, and did not move after that. The ski mask boy stuck beneath him shook him to no avail.

“Wh…what the hell do you want?!” the remaining boys demanded, closing in on Adabashi. One of them pulled out an extendable police baton, and they took places to flank their victim.

“Out of my way. You’ll all just get in the waaay!” Adabashi roared, visibly agitated, and approached them without fear.

The one with the baton pulled it back to swing as a fierce kick caught him in the solar plexus. He didn’t even have time to swing it forward.

Anyone viewing the scene might have thought that the man’s leg actually stretched.

The boy bent over double and writhed on the ground, stomach bile spilling forth onto the bandanna over his mouth.

“Wha…?”

Adabashi noticed the other boy’s attention turning to his fallen comrade, and he did not miss the opportunity. He carried his blissful love, that act of human destruction, imagining Ruri Hijiribe’s suffering with each and every blow.

Holy shit. He’s not Shizuo or Kadota, but he’s pretty damn tough, Masaomi thought, holding his breath after seeing the two teens knocked out in mere moments.

Was he the enemy going after Anri? In all honesty, he wasn’t the sort that Masaomi could challenge to a direct fight and win.

Should I call the cops…and have them evacuate her?

It seemed if push came to shove, he’d have to hold back that freak until Anri had time to escape. He was about to leave his hiding place—when another shadow darted into his field of vision.

It was the kid with the ski mask and goggles, the one who’d been knocked over by his fallen comrade. He’d moved the other boys to the side of the road, then raced off after the attacker at top speed.

He attempted a weak rolling sobat kick at the attacker’s back, a powerless swipe that was probably just mimicking whatever he’d seen on TV. It thumped lifelessly against the man, who turned around in curious surprise.

What the hell was that?! What a total amateur this Aoba kid is!

Masaomi had no idea that, in fact, Aoba Kuronuma was completely useless as a fighter.

If the veteran brawler known as Yoshikiri were present, it might be a different situation, but unfortunately for the Blue Squares, he wasn’t here at the moment.

As a result, the most experienced fighter present was either the attacker or Masaomi.

And as for Masaomi…

Adabashi slowly turned and glared at the boy who’d just attempted to hurt him. He stared down, looming a head taller than his prey, and hissed with laughter.

“You know…you’re about as tall as Ruri Hijiribe. But without the breasts.”

“?”

“Okay. As of right now, you are Ruri.”

“…? …?!”

Adabashi’s wide palm caught the boy around the throat.

“…! …!”

“Don’t bother responding. If I hear a male voice, then I can’t pretend you’re Ruri and destroy you, can I?” Adabashi taunted, clutching the boy’s windpipe.

He let go of Aoba’s throat and grabbed the back of his head. As the boy coughed and gasped, Adabashi drove his head directly into the nearby wall.

The goggles cracked, and the boy’s nose seemed fit to break.

“Aaaah, if only you really were Ruri!” Adabashi lamented, bliss in his eyes, as he drove the face into the wall, over and over.

He’d been holding back at first, so the damage wasn’t as bad as it looked, but he gradually put more and more strength into it, smashing harder and faster as he grew more excited.

When he saw blood seeping into the ski mask, his exhilaration reached a peak, and he swung the boy back much farther, preparing to crush his face for good—when a man’s voice interrupted him from behind.

“You can’t even give me enough time to call the cops, you…sadistic freak!”

A kick caught Adabashi directly in the crotch.

His legs hadn’t been spread that far apart, but the toe of Masaomi’s shoe passed right between his knees and smashed the attacker’s groin with perfect accuracy.

“?! ?! ?! ?? ?? !! ?! Nnnnnnnng?!?!!!”

He fell on the spot, completely unaware of what had just happened.

Incredible pain burst in his lower stomach, as if something had just grabbed his internal organs and squeezed. He was just barely staying conscious through the agony.

Did that do the trick?

Realizing that the attacker would have killed Aoba Kuronuma if given the chance, Masaomi paused his attempt to contact the police, hopped over the wall, and rushed over to kick the attacker from behind.

The sneak attack should have ended the fight just like that.

“Gaaahh!!”

But the attacker’s mind overrode the pain, and even with his limbs weakened, he managed to strike at Masaomi’s feet with a low kick.

“Whoaaaa!”

Masaomi fell to the ground, spinning, as though a hard river current had swept his feet out from under him.

“Do you…know Ruri, too?” the attacker asked with a smile, which was a strange thing to say for someone who should have been in a violent rage. With a trembling leg, the attacker pressed down on Masaomi’s stomach. “If I kill you, will Ruri be terribly, terribly sad?”

“The fuck are you talking about?! Who the hell is Ruri?!” Masaomi hissed, the loudest he could manage with a foot pressed into his gut.

“Oh…oh… Well, that’s fine,” Adabashi said, shaking his head and hissing. “Ruri is kind enough that knowing total strangers died because of her would cause her great pain.”

Okay, is this guy on some kind of drugs?! Actually, holy crap, this is really bad!

The man was putting more and more weight on Masaomi.

Shit, I should’ve just abandoned the stupid…Blue…Squares… Why did I have to come…to their…aid…?

But he knew the reason why.

If he abandoned these people now, he would never be proud enough to present himself to Mikado, Anri, or even Saki again. He couldn’t promise himself that he’d show his face to them again someday, but if anything, it was a kind of personal moral compass within him that forced his hand.

I’m so stupid… First with Shizuo, now this… I must be suicidalalololgh…

Just as he felt the stomach acid starting to convulse and churn, there was a sound of glass breaking against the man’s back.

“?”

“?”

Neither Masaomi nor the attacker understood what it was at first—until the man’s body was suddenly wreathed in pale-blue flames, lighting the dark alley an eerie color.

“Yaaaaahhh!!”

The flames spread from his back up to his ears, the blue color shifting to yellow and red. He stripped his shirt off and began to run—and within moments, he was gone.

Masaomi didn’t have the strength to chase him, of course. All he could do was heave a sigh of relief that he was all right and look around to see what had happened.

!

It’s him…

He saw the boy in the ski mask lying splayed on the asphalt, barely breathing. There were fine cracks in the goggles, almost entirely blocking his sight. Next to him was a can of lighter oil, and clutched in his hand was a Zippo lighter.

Did he…just go right out and burn that guy without a second thought…?

Even in self-defense, splashing oil on a person and lighting them on fire was not a decision made by a sound mind. He did know one person who would do that sort of thing—but even subtracting for the otaku part, the guy clearly wasn’t of sound mind.

At least Kadota’s around to keep Yumasaki in line when needed…but this guy’s out on the loose and trying to use Mikado…

“So you’re Aoba Kuronuma?”

Masaomi glared down at the boy lying in the street. He picked him up by the collar.

“You’re coming with me until we can confirm Anri’s safety. You have my thanks if this was supposed to be protecting her, but if you’re trying to use Mikado for some kind of plot, you’ll have to answer to me,” he threatened, his eyes hard.

The boy in the ski mask slowly turned to face Masaomi. As if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. As if gazing at a mirage in the desert.

“?”

Masaomi watched and waited for a more meaningful response.

He was too ignorant of the situation to understand.

The way that the other Blue Squares had treated him with deference made Masaomi assume that the kid in the goggles was Aoba Kuronuma—but Masaomi didn’t know.

The Blue Squares always treated Aoba Kuronuma as an equal, nothing more.

He didn’t know.

Masaomi just didn’t know.

The boy in the ski mask was not Aoba Kuronuma.

There was only one person whom the Blue Squares treated with the respect of a leader.

And that one boy looked up at Masaomi and opened his mouth.

“…………………………………………Masaomi?”

It was the voice that Masaomi Kida had wanted to hear more than any other.

And the voice that he wanted to hear coming from that particular ski mask least of all.

Wha…?

Mika…do…?

A voice he never imagined he would hear.

He prayed that he had merely misheard it.

But as Masaomi clutched the boy’s collar, dumbfounded, the boy reached up and pulled off his mask and goggles—revealing a bloodied, familiar face.

“Masaomi…? It’s not…a dream, right?”

“Mikado…? It can’t be…can it?”

Masaomi let go of the collar and fell to his knees.

He had to say something.

But the absolutely shocking and unexpected reunion left his mind a blank.

“What…what the…hell was that?” was the only statement he could produce.

Mikado used a handkerchief to wipe his face, occasionally grimacing and hissing, “Ouch!” He’d probably fractured his nose, his cheekbone, or perhaps both.

“H-hey…you okay?! You need a hospital…no, an ambulance…,” Masaomi mumbled, just before he heard the sound of an approaching vehicle.

A station wagon pulled over on the side of the street. From the backseat emerged a youthful boy with a bandanna tied around his forehead. He rushed over to Mikado’s side.

“Mikado! Are you okay?!” he shouted. He was followed by a much taller boy who went around to check on the other fallen Blue Squares.

“Yeah…I’ll manage. But he really got the others bad…”

“Looking at your face, he got you pretty bad, too… So, who’s this?” the boy asked Mikado uncertainly. He had realized that Masaomi did not seem hostile and thus didn’t treat him like an enemy—for now.

“…Masaomi…Masaomi Kida. My friend.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed when he heard the name. “Oh, so you’re…”

There was a subtle interplay of emotion in his voice. But Masaomi did not miss the instant when his mouth started curving into a grin.

Still, he didn’t particularly care. Masaomi called out to Mikado, who was getting to his feet and leaning on the shoulder of the real Aoba.

“H-hey…Mikado…?”

The others were heading straight for the car, but then Mikado turned back, his expression a little somber. “I’m sorry…Masaomi. Just wait…just wait a bit longer.”

“Huh?”

His face expressed sadness but not in a pathetic sense. It was like the look he would give in elementary school when he borrowed a video game and forgot to bring it back with him.

“Wait… What do you mean?”

They needed to talk. But he had no idea what to say.

Mikado saw Masaomi, panicking and confused, and smiled.

Just like he did in the old days. Like when they were in elementary school.

He smiled the way he did when he asked, “Is that you, Kida?” when they reunited in Ikebukuro.

Smiled. Smiled. Smiled.

That same smile, just like the old Mikado.

It was exactly what froze Masaomi this time and kept him from finding the words he wanted to say.

Is that…

…really you…Mikado?

The boy smiled like always, despite the blood streaming from his face and the likelihood of multiple bone fractures. The note of innocent pluckiness in that smile caused a freezing trickle of sweat to run down Masaomi’s back.

The smile was eerie. It was like watching him smile as he headed out into a roof-ripping hurricane without so much as a raincoat.

Masaomi remained silent until Mikado spoke again, still wearing that same old smile.

“Just a bit longer.”

“Huh?”

“Just a bit longer, and I’ll have made it… The place for you and Sonohara to come home to.”

Masaomi felt his own spine creak. That was the signal for a cold shiver of fear to race from his legs up through his body.

Yet he still stepped toward the car, feeling like he had to talk to Mikado.

“H-hey…Mikado…?”

But his old friend didn’t stop again. Without turning, Mikado continued in a murmur, “So…I want you to wait until then. I know I’ll find a way…to save you and Sonohara. And until that point…I don’t think we should meet.”

That was the clincher. Masaomi couldn’t ask anything after that. All he could do was stand still.

“What’s up with the stalkers?” Mikado asked Aoba.

“One of them ran off with his eyes all red. The other one—probably the guy who did you in, Mikado—I think he used a car to escape. At the very least, Anri should be safe for now,” the newcomer replied.

“Ah…that’s good.”

Once he was in the car, Mikado stuck his head out of the window and mentioned to Masaomi, as if just remembering it, “Sorry, Masaomi, I need you to do one…no, two things.”

“You need my help…? Wh-what is it? Don’t hold back, man! Tell me anything!”

Just tell me. You didn’t want this to happen, did you? So spit it out… Ask me to help you!

Masaomi could only envision his own selfish desires—but once again, Mikado just gave him that smile.

“I’m going to meet Sonohara in a minute…and I want you to keep this a secret from her. The fact that I was here…and that I was trying to save her.”

“Huh…?”

“And the other thing is…I want you to return that cat to her.”

Masaomi followed Mikado’s gaze down to the ground at his feet.

“Mewww.”

An adorable little kitten had sidled up to his legs at some point and was frolicking around his shoes, begging to be played with.

How long did Masaomi stand there, frozen in place?

It was until the moment that Mikado’s car pulled away, so objectively, it probably wasn’t even a minute long. But to Masaomi it felt as though several hours had passed, or perhaps that he’d been unconscious for several days, such was the sudden sense of loss that plagued him.

Mikado’s car vanished at just about the same moment that Anri came stumbling in from the shadows.

“…Anri,” he mumbled. Her eyes got huge when she saw him, and she started trotting toward him on unsteady legs.

“Kida…?! Why…why are you here?!” she shouted, unable to hide her surprise. It’d been half a year since their last encounter.

With dazed wits, Masaomi realized this might be the first time he’d ever heard her raise her voice. He stammered, “Uh…err… Actually, I was just passing through here.”

It was a completely unbelievable excuse, but Anri didn’t seem to give it a second thought. She smiled as she asked, “Kida…where have you been all this…?”

But before she could finish her question, Dokusonmaru cried, “Meow.”

“Dokusonmaru! Kida…did you save this cat…?”

That was when she noticed that he was injured in several places. She was still suffering the aftereffects of the attack herself, but the sight of shoe prints on Masaomi’s shirt told her he didn’t only find the cat.

Before she asked about what happened to him, she decided that she should express her gratitude.

“Thank—”

“Sorry, Anri!”

“Huh?” she mumbled, taken aback.

“I swear, I’ll explain later! Just, please…please hang on for a bit!” he said, triumphing over his sense of grief with determination.

Upon seeing the bafflement on her face, Masaomi thought to himself, I suppose I must have looked like Anri does now a few minutes ago. Sorry, Anri. I’m so sorry. But…I don’t have the right to talk to you yet.

He knew that you didn’t need the “right” to talk to a friend, but it was that personal moral compass interfering again. He had to assume that his instinct was correct.

Masaomi stared right at the girl and stated, “I…I will return to you guys. And when I do, I will absolutely give you a proper explanation… Sorry!”

And then he turned his back on her and raced into the night.

“Huh…? Kida? Kid—?!”

She was about to follow him but then stopped her legs of her own accord.

Just a sliver of Saika’s blade protruded from her hand.

A particularly strong rush of “voices of love” pulsed out of it.

“Let’s cut him.” “Let’s cut him?” “Let’s cut him!”

“Let’s love him!” “Let’s love him?” “Let’s love him.”

“You love him and Mikado and everyone else, don’t you?”

“So let’s get them both—”

“…!”

Anri shook her head vigorously and forced the extended piece of Saika back into her body.

No…that would be…wrong…

She’d used her ability to push the world around her through the picture frame as a defense mechanism around her heart. But Mikado and Masaomi were undeniably making their way from inside the frame over to her side of the scene.

Which made her very nervous.

When she was no longer able to view them objectively, when she truly wished for them to be a part of her own world—would Saika’s wicked ability reach out to seize them, too?

It was precisely because Anri lived with the incessant voices—could never ever turn them off—that she was so afraid of this.

If she ever allowed herself to love someone, would she sink to being one of Saika’s voices and end up hurting people she truly cared about?

For a girl who considered herself a parasite, losing a host was the most frightening concept imaginable.

As if sensing her fear, Dokusonmaru rubbed up against Anri’s legs and cried, “Mewww, mewww.”

Inside a station wagon, Ikebukuro

“I need to ask you for something, Aoba.”

“What is it?” the younger boy asked, shoulders bobbing.

Mikado continued, “I’ll probably be out of my home and bouncing around between manga cafés for a little while, so you won’t be able to reach me the usual way. We should discuss that again later.”

“You’re leaving home? But why?”

“…Because Masaomi might decide to barge right into my place. And I think it’s best if I don’t talk to him at all until the process of ‘sorting out’ the Dollars is finished…”

Mikado looked out the window, a mild note of loneliness contained in that usual smile of his.

“I don’t want to get Masaomi or Sonohara involved, if I can help it… This is a problem that needs to be solved within the Dollars.

“When I invite Sonohara and Masaomi, the Dollars should be more…”

He trailed off there, looked away, and smiled.

Perhaps he was reminiscing about his past with his two friends or imagining their future together. Perhaps he was doing both.

“…”

Aoba sensed a mild kind of madness lurking in that smile of Mikado’s. He chose not to comment, and he closed his eyes.

Then he envisioned the various possible futures—and he, too, smiled.

But unlike Mikado, his smile was brimming with wickedness.

Ikebukuro

A park near Ikebukuro Station offered a distant view of the Raira Academy campus. There, Masaomi leaned against one of the trees lining the park and considered things.

The night was late now and the foot traffic much lighter. He took out his cell phone and decided to call Saki first. After he told her that he’d be home late, he placed another call.

“…Yo. Is that you, Yatabe?”

“?! Shogun?!” exclaimed the man named Yatabe with a voice full of surprise and delight.

“None of that shogun stuff,” Masaomi said, annoyed. “Listen…I’m here in Ikebukuro now. Think you can meet up for a bit? With all the other guys, if possible…”

“The other guys? Meaning the OG Yellow Scarves?”

“Yeah. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of stuff to get off your chests… I want to talk to you guys about something, and I’m willing to suffer a beating if that’s what it takes. Or maybe I should be honest and say that I want to use you.”

“C’mon, don’t be a stranger. We’re used to our shogun following his whims! Plus, we know the story! I heard that you whooped Horada’s ass before he finally got arrested!”

Masaomi couldn’t prevent the smile from spreading across his face, talking to his old friend like this. Half a year ago, he was certain that he’d never team up with this color gang again.

This was a guy he’d actively avoided talking to, and yet he felt more natural talking to him now than he ever did before.

Hey, Mikado.

If you’ve fallen down into this side…then I’ll make sure to pull you back up.

Until just minutes ago, he’d been prepared to punch him, if that was what it took. But after seeing Mikado in person, Masaomi realized just how naive he’d been.

Mikado wasn’t ordering the Dollars around like it was some meaningless video game, and he wasn’t being manipulated by his junior from school, Aoba. He was in too deep for a good pop to the cheek to wake him up.

Masaomi had been trying to save someone who didn’t ask for help. Even he could tell that he was just as guilty as Mikado for trying to foist off his own obsessive good deeds on someone who didn’t need them.

But even with that in mind, Masaomi did not reverse his intentions.

That’s right, I’m gonna save you all on my own. No matter how much you cry about it.

You’ve known for years just how selfish I am, haven’t you?

Masaomi and Mikado, Anri and Masaomi. Though they shared brief reunions, there was no sign that the three would come together soon. The hopes and fears of each created a rift among all of them.

And with that little budding root of discord sprouting in Ikebukuro, the boys and girls had yet to find their place.