Durarara!! - Volume 9 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Vice President

Night, Kawagoe Highway, Shinra’s apartment

“By the way…I noticed this wound hasn’t disappeared yet.”

Celty had changed Shinra’s bandages and was wiping him down with a wet towel. She looked over his torso, which lay uncovered.

She hadn’t noticed yesterday, due to the distraction of his fresh wounds, but upon closer examination, she spotted the mark from a stab wound of some kind in Shinra’s side.

“Oh! It’s kind of embarrassing to have you staring at an old wound of mine, but at the same time, it’s rather thrilling! Oh my, what should I do?! Tell me, Celty—what should I do?!”

“Sit still,” her PDA said, and she continued the task of changing his bandages and wiping off his sweat.

She had ended up accepting Izaya’s job and was now back home on standby until she got the call from him. When Shinra heard the facts, he’d said, “He’s got to be plotting something,” and then added a whole series of statements along the lines of “Just be careful, okay?”

Of course, Celty knew it was an obviously suspicious offer, too, but she couldn’t decline. So here she was, trying to focus on caring for Shinra, while something unsettling nagged at the back of her mind…

And then she spotted Shinra’s old scar.

Once she had changed his bandages and put freshly laundered pajamas on him, Celty brought it up again.

“Gosh, it’s been forever. Ten years, is it?”

“Yeah, that long. And yet it feels like it was just yesterday. At this rate, I could blow past the median life expectancy and die of old age just around the corner.”

“That’s nonsense. You’re not even at half the life expectancy value yet. So…I guess those scars really do last…”

As an inhuman being—a dullahan—Celty was humanlike but held several differences. She was very tough to kill by nature, and any knife or scalpel cuts would heal in fairly short order with no sign that there had ever been a wound.

So the sight of this ancient gash on Shinra’s side felt like a reminder of the distance between them. It stuck with her and made her feel oddly unsettled.

“I suppose I’ll have this for the rest of my life,” he said, sensing that Celty was bothered, and slapped at his side in a show that scars weren’t a big deal.

“Oofh,” he grunted, immediately doubling up in pain at the impact.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just having you at my side feels like it’s helping heal me.”

“I just wish it would heal that old scar, too,” she typed, intending to downplay his consideration with a little joke. But then a thought occurred to her, and she asked, “But what did you do to leave such a permanent mark? You said you got dragged into a fight in class or something.”

“Yes, I got carved up a bit with a knife.”

“A knife?!” she wrote back, stunned at his nonchalance. “Getting stabbed by a knife is no laughing matter! You said it was a fight, so I was imagining that you got pushed and fell down some stairs or something!”

“Well, that was when there was still a wall between us.”

It was actually just a year and several months ago that Celty and Shinra began a mutually loving relationship. But in the sense of them living together, they’d been acquainted for over twenty years.

At the time, the only thing this meant to Celty was that the alien “human” man she lived with had a son who’d gotten hurt. She registered this fact and felt sorry for the juvenile but thought there was no need to dig any deeper than that. In fact, she sensed that she shouldn’t.

“But I loved you, wall and all!”

“Listen, that’s very sweet of you to say, but that’s not my point. Since when do middle schoolers have fights involving knives?!”

“Oh…right. Yeah, when I got this injury, we still hadn’t really talked yet.”

“Actually…I guess you’re right.”

It really is odd, when you think about it. From a young age, Shinra always sought me out and told me all kinds of things. That didn’t change when he got hurt, but for whatever reason, he never told me about why he got hurt.

She felt like she was about to see a new side of Shinra and wasn’t entirely sure if she really wanted to ask or not.

“But you see, I have my own conflicting thoughts about this scar… I’m sorry, Celty,” he said, averting his eyes in embarrassment.

She looked at him, lying faceup on the bed, and decided not to ask.

Yeah. I’m curious, but not enough that I want to place more burden on him. Everyone has a thing or two they don’t want to reveal to anyone…

And then, contrary to what she’d just at last decided, Shinra began to speak.

“It all began right around the time I began middle school, I think…”

“Wait, so you’re going to tell me after all?!”

Twelve years ago, Raijin Middle School, Class 1-3

“Hey, you wanna join the biology club? I mean, you wanna create it with me?” asked a boy with glasses.

“Sorry, not interested,” replied a different boy.

These were the first words exchanged by Shinra Kishitani and Izaya Orihara.

The school’s entrance ceremony was over, and they were sitting in their homeroom after the whole class ran through their personal introductions. The children re-formed in little groups of friends from elementary school, hopes and worries about the new stage of school mingling in the air. Only Shinra and Izaya seemed out of place from the rest.

There were several former Raijin Elementary students in the class, but none of them approached Izaya Orihara to talk. He wasn’t upset by this; if anything, it seemed natural.

Izaya was an honor student, but only in the sense of his grades—he was not a model student in the least. He was genteel on the surface and popular with the girls, but he interacted with school in a way that was passive and removed.

One of his elementary school classmates would later say of him, “He was kind of like an alien. But he was a good guy.” Many others held similar opinions, and perhaps the most “honor student” aspect of him was the way that everyone would always caution, “He was a good guy, but…”

So he wasn’t hated by others, but neither was he particularly liked.

During lunch break, when the other students would sit in the classroom chatting or play kickball out on the field, Izaya would always be in the school library. It was almost as though he was intentionally isolating himself.

When the students would split up into teams for the yearly field trip, Izaya was always the last one out. When the others realized this, there would be a competition to recruit him. (“What, you’re not in a group?! Come with us!” “No way, we’ve got room!”) That was Izaya Orihara’s odd existence in elementary school.

Izaya himself preferred to be one step away from the crowd. He understood that he was considered an honor student. But he never mocked the people around him or looked down on them.

Really, he enjoyed the gathering place that was school.

The other students in his vicinity chatted happily, fought one another, conferred in secret about whom to bully, cried when they were the targets of that harassment—all of which was enjoyable for him to watch.

And the more he got involved, the less he was able to see.

If you considered two groups of people, one of which liked sitting in the back row of a movie theater to take in the entire crowd along with the film and the other preferring to be in the very front row for the maximum possible size of image regardless of quality, elementary school Izaya was undoubtedly among the former.

So his isolated status was, if anything, preferable to him. He’d been observing the students in the new class coalescing into various social groups with pleasure—when an innocent young boy with glasses interrupted this activity.

It was the one who had introduced himself as Shinra Kishitani during class. Izaya recalled that he’d described himself in a surprisingly dark way: “Mom got sick of Dad and divorced him, so now it’s just the three of us, including Dad.”

If there are three after his mom left, that must mean he has a sibling, Izaya realized and tried to return to his observation.

“It’s okay if you’re not interested. Let’s just make a biology club.”

“…”

Izaya instantly disliked this boy, who refused to take no for an answer. Then when he realized how rare it was for him to feel that way about another person, Izaya suddenly found his interest in this Shinra Kishitani.

“Kishitani, right?”

“Call me Shinra. Umm…what was your name again?”

“…It’s Izaya Orihara.”

“Oh, right, right! Orihara! I’m going to call you Orihara, but you can call me Shinra,” he declared, an oddly selfish kind of demand.

“And why did you want to create a biology club with someone whose name you didn’t even know?” Izaya asked, annoyed.

“Because of what the teacher just said. As long as you have at least two students, you can make your own club here.”

“My point was, why me?”

It was probably just because Shinra had seen him sitting alone in class, but he wouldn’t be able to admit it, Izaya assumed. Hence the question with the answer he already knew—now Izaya could enjoy finding out what response the other boy would give him.

It easily surpassed his expectations.

“You like observing living things, don’t you? You’re cut out for biology.”

“Huh?”

He hadn’t said anything to that effect during his introduction to the class. For a moment, Izaya wondered if Shinra was thinking of someone else, but no other student in the class said anything along the lines of “I like animals,” either.

For some reason, Izaya’s bewilderment bred more confusion in Shinra.

“Huh? But you said it during your introduction.”

“Said what?”

“You said, ‘I like watching people in various occupations.’”

“…”

He liked watching people.

But Izaya understood that if he described his hobby as “human observation” in an introduction in front of the class, he would only stand out in a bad way. So he phrased it in a way that sounded closer to a proper hobby to escape attention. He just didn’t expect that anyone would take his answer and invite him to join the biology club because of it.

“What does that have to do with biology?”

“People are biological.”

“…”

That simple, obvious answer made Izaya even more intrigued. “Humans are just another species among millions on the planet Earth” was a statement you heard often in these eco-conscious times. No doubt other classmates would appreciate it, too.

But anyone who would bring out that line to describe potential observation targets for a biology club was more than a little off. Izaya hesitated a bit, then shook his head. “Sorry, I’m just not interested.”

“Okay. I guess that’s that, then,” Shinra said, taking Izaya by surprise. “I’ll just try again tomorrow. There’s no time limit to applying for a club.”

“Hang on. Don’t you think my answer is going to be the exact same thing a day from now?” Izaya asked.

He prolonged the conversation not to bust Shinra’s chops but because he was curious and felt that something was off, and he wanted to know what that was. But at this point in time, Izaya wasn’t able to decipher the cause of that feeling.

“How about the day after that?”

“Same thing.”

“Please. You can be the club president.”

“Why would you offer me the position that has the most hassle?” Izaya snapped.

It certainly wasn’t the kind of back-and-forth you heard between total strangers, and in fact, it was quite rare for Izaya to engage in banter like this at all.

“Why don’t you just invite someone else who isn’t me? One of your friends from elementary school.”

“Do I look like I have friends?” Shinra replied simply.

“…Sorry. You’re right; you don’t.”

“Too bad! I have one, in fact!”

“Hmm. Can I punch you?” Izaya asked, eyes narrowed.

Shinra ignored him and said, “Unfortunately, that friend is at a different school. So I really don’t have any here.”

“And I doubt you’ll make any, either. Rest in peace. Or should that be ‘you get what you deserve’?”

Izaya was a bit surprised that the responses were coming from him so freely. His stance on maintaining a neutral distance from others could be broken very easily, as it turned out.

The thought that all kids from other elementary schools might be this way was a very depressing one, but Izaya convinced himself this was a property unique to the Kishitani boy.

“But still, there’s got to be at least one other person who likes biology, right?”

“I don’t know. But there’s another reason I asked you specifically. I don’t actually want someone who’s super into biology and is going to take it all seriously. I really want just the minimum of activity. Like, someone who would raise sea monkeys at the most.”

“What…? So you don’t actually like animals?”

Club activity wasn’t mandatory at this school. If he wasn’t interested, he could just be one of the kids who went home right after class. Why was he so fixated on this club?

But before Izaya could ask the question aloud, Shinra explained, “To be honest, I don’t actually want to run a club… But someone I like said, ‘Ever since elementary school, you haven’t had enough friends, Shinra. Why don’t you try being in a club?’ And since it’s more like a one-sided crush at the moment, I don’t want her to decide she doesn’t like me, so…”

“…I didn’t think there was any human being who cared about you enough to worry like that, to say nothing of having a crush.”

“You really don’t hold your opinions back for someone I just met today. Also, I’d like to offer a correction to your statement about a human being who cares enough to worry, but… Oh, never mind. My point is, you look like you’d join the biology club and not bother to care much. C’mon, let’s start a club and look for chupacabras or whatever.”

“That’s…not a biology club.”

Thus, Izaya promptly turned him down on the first day of school—but the unique weirdness of Shinra Kishitani stuck with him, and the very next day, he began a period of focused observation on his classmate. He also took pains to nonchalantly make contact with other students who went to Shinra’s elementary school, in an attempt to build a more accurate profile of him.

“Oh, so that’s the same school that, uh…Kishitani went to, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Hey, Orihara, are you in Kishitani’s class?”

“Yup.”

“He’s weird, right? You can’t tell what the hell he’s thinking.”

This was almost exactly the answer Izaya was anticipating, but he wasn’t disappointed by it. “I don’t wanna say too much, because I don’t like bad-mouthing people, but…it doesn’t seem like he has many friends.”

“Actually, he doesn’t have any… Oh, except for Shizu.”

“Shizu?”

It sounded like a girl’s name. Maybe this was Shinra’s crush, the person who was worried about his social life, Izaya guessed. It took all the next sentence from the other boy’s mouth to prove him wrong.

“It’s this freaky guy named Shizuo… He’s super-tough in a fight and gets mad in a snap, and everyone keeps their distance from him. Kishitani would just walk up to him like it was nothing and ask, ‘Can I dissect you?’ The guy made no sense.”

“Ah, I see your point.”

“But the weird thing is, Shizuo would talk to Shinra like normal…and trust me, he was a freak! He threw the teacher’s desk!”

Threw it? That’s probably just a theatrical way of saying he tipped the desk over.

“Okay, thanks for your help. Let’s hope that guy gets arrested before he hurts anyone,” Izaya commented and left the hall.

He couldn’t have dreamed that he and that “freaky guy” would end up attempting to kill each other on countless occasions.

After that, Izaya continued his secondary education where he left off, paying special attention to the human named Shinra Kishitani—until one day, he came to a realization.

It didn’t arrive during some event or moment of clarity. It just popped into his head out of nowhere, like the instant you realize you forgot something.

Shinra Kishitani represented his exact opposite in life.

He had hardly spent any time watching others. In fact, to be blunt about it, Shinra Kishitani seemed to have no interest in humanity at all.

In the way that Izaya loved watching all different kinds of people, Shinra simply didn’t have a care about them in the first place.

What’s his deal, then? What does he watch that gives him life?

Izaya had spent his life watching others, and this was a remarkable feature that he’d never seen in a person before. That realization brought a fresh question to his mind. Over a month into the school year, he finally went to Shinra.

“I’m fine with being in your biology club if I’m only the vice president.”

He wanted to know why Shinra Kishitani had no interest in people.

So for the purpose of exploring this warped fascination, Izaya decided to play along with Shinra’s idea.

It was the birth of the first-ever Raijin Middle School Biology Club.

Twelve years later, Ikebukuro, Raira Academy pool

“So in other words, Iza…you got into some kind of trouble again.”

“…Exasperation…” [I just can’t believe it.]

It was summer vacation, and Raira Academy’s pool was open to its students.

Seated at the poolside, kicking their feet slowly through the glittering water, two girls were busy explaining something to a boy leaning against the fence behind them. He glanced back and forth between their backs and…other features and sighed. “So why are you bothering to tell me this?”

Aoba Kuronuma spoke to them in a much blunter manner than he did with Mikado. “Why did you even bring me here to the pool anyway?” he complained.

Despite his swimsuit, he didn’t seem ready to swim. He wore an open black shirt and stood conspicuously far away from the water.

Mairu Orihara scooped up a handful of pool water and splashed it at his feet. Her relatively athletic body was wrapped in a competition swimsuit, while Kururi wore a bikini with a spiderweb pattern. Neither outfit was according to the school rules, but those didn’t apply outside of school hours.

The Raira Academy school building was eight stories tall, as big as some colleges, and the pool was located on the sixth floor, strangely enough. It was an indoor pool with a glass ceiling so that it could be used on rainy days, and the windows offered a nice view of Ikebukuro.

Aside from the swim team’s activity hours, the pool was open to students during vacation, so anyone could use it provided they brought their school ID. There was no practice today, so the pool was split between racing lanes and a free-swim space.

Kururi and Mairu were kicking their legs into the free area, and the boys nearby were alternately giving them wolf whistles or staring and then hastily turning their gazes away. Aoba was in the latter category, if any, except that he had the advantage over the other boys in that he was there on their invitation.

But he didn’t know why yet, so he stood back, playing it cool, as he secretly let his heart throb at the sight of their figures in swimsuits.

Mairu splashed more water at him with glee. “Well, you’re curious, aren’t you? You want to know more about our weird brother.”

“…”

He returned her question with a brief smile.

“I suppose I’ll just say that I don’t know what you mean.”

Their brother, Izaya Orihara, was a spiteful enemy of Aoba’s. He and Izaya had sparred remotely through a number of events in the past, and a particular circumstance at the present held them in strict hostility toward each other.

He’d never spoken about this to the twins, but they seemed to know something about it already. He was neither alarmed nor frightened by this circumstance, however. He’d been talking to the two for about four months, and he felt he had a good grasp on what they were like.

Compared with an ordinary family, they hardly had any contact at all with their brother. Instead, they had their own network of information and were surprisingly in the know of the various shadowy goings-on of the city that Aoba had a hand in.

“Look, you don’t have to hide it. It’s fine; we’ll keep it a secret from him.”

“You can tell him if you want. He already knows all about me.” He looked around, making sure the twins were the only ones within earshot. “If you had a normal family and he knew what I was like, I assume he’d give you a proper warning to ‘stay away from that Aoba Kuronuma boy.’”

“Wow, are you self-obsessed or what?”

“You… Fun…” [You’re really funny, Aoba.]

Aoba grimaced. He should’ve expected these reactions from them. “Fine, fine. You got me—I was drunk on myself.”

“But don’t worry; we have a pretty good idea of what you are, but that doesn’t mean we’re disgusted by it. And you’ve helped us out with a bunch of stuff.”

“You think too highly of me,” he said.

“There was that secret Raira Academy website where somebody was trying to set us up for something awful, and then it just vanished from the Internet all of a sudden,” Mairu said. The girls looked up at Aoba, who studiously avoided their gazes.

“Look, let’s not talk about that. So…what’s your sicko of a brother involved in now?”

“Well, according to this guy named Tom…there’s some group, either a gang or a biker group or whatever, and he messed with the girlfriend of their leader. See, our brother used to have a whole bunch of girls following him around. Like a playboy, I think they call it?”

“Passion…” [He’s such a philanderer.]

Aoba pored over this fresh round of information.

Woman troubles, huh? But would Izaya Orihara do something that would earn him such a straightforward grudge? It’s too simple.

But…on the other hand, I guess I don’t really know what people would do when women are involved. I do know he’s not the kind of guy who would get so infatuated with a woman that he’d forget his due diligence.

All the while, the twin girls were splashing and frolicking seductively in the water.

“Kuru, did your boobs get even bigger? Pretty soon you’ll look like Miss Sonohara, or President Kine from the art club, or Miss Yumikawa, the student body vice chair.”

“Negative.” [Stop that.]

“Yet despite your protests, you chose to wear a bikini. That just goes to show how secretly slutty you are! I love it!”

“…Public.” [People are watching.]

Aoba watched the two girls tickle each other in the water, the only betrayal of his cool exterior being the spots of red on his cheeks.

“…Hard to know where to rest your eyes,” he mumbled to himself.

All in all, Aoba was acting thoroughly in line with the innocence of his youth, and he needed something to drive away the impure thoughts that were plaguing his mind. He found that unraveling the mysteries of Izaya Orihara was a good replacement.

So…I know he came back to Ikebukuro. If I feed his location to Shizuo Heiwajima, that might be a good way to vex him…but he’ll just find a new place after he gets away, and that’ll be that. It’s better that we know where he is than to have him in hiding. And I’m sure he knows I know his address.

Aoba understood that trusting in his opponent’s ability was the best possible way to give him the maximum caution.

Maybe I’ll sit back and test his boundaries for now. I don’t want Mikado getting dragged into anything at this point…

His thoughts were abruptly dashed by the feeling of cold water hitting his body.

“Wh-wh-whaat?!”

His shirt was drenched. No sooner had the chilly water landed on him than it began to warm to a tepid temperature. Down in the pool, Mairu had impishly sliced her arm along the surface, which produced the sheet of water that drenched Aoba.

“Don’t act like a little kid!”

She’d snuck it past the gaze of the school monitor. There were no admonishing whistles.

“Ah-ha-ha-ha! Sorry about that! It’s what you get for looking so serious at the pool!”

“That’s not an apology. Now my clothes are all gross. What am I supposed to do now?” Aoba grumbled, wondering if he’d really been making a face. He took a step closer to Mairu to give her a piece of his mind about his wet clothes—when something soft pressed itself against his back.

“Play…” [Hiya.]

“Huh?”

It was a girl’s voice, quiet and seductive, right at his ear.

Only when he recognized that it was Kururi did he understand that she was hugging him from behind.

Huh? What?! Kururi? When did she—?!

Is that soft sensation what I think it is?! Is this some kinda porn game?

Is she…pushing me? Wait, I’m falling…

Aoba turned mid-plunge, a mixture of excitement and surprise on his features, and saw Kururi standing there, a partially deflated beach ball held in her hands.

Oh.

A beach ball?!

So I guess that wasn’t her chest.

That’s a shame—I mean, good— I mean, I’m fallub-blub-glub

He toppled into the water next to Mairu before he could finish the thought.

When he emerged upright, the other girl in the swimming goggles was cackling. Above him, he heard Kururi say, “Health…?” [Are you all right?]

“All right, enough horsing around!” came a shout from the pool monitor. That prank hadn’t escaped his notice.

“We’re sorry!”

“…Apology…” [I’m sorry.]

“Uh, s-sorry… Wait, it wasn’t my fault. I was the victim!”

After all three of them apologized, Aoba removed his completely drenched shirt and laid it out next to the pool, then gave Mairu and Kururi his meanest side-eye.

“To think I trusted that you weren’t the kind of person to play such pranks, Kururi.”

“When we play pranks, we play them together.”

“Same…” [Exactly.]

“So are you just excited about being at the pool during summer vacation, Kururi?” he asked.

She answered by way of descending into the water again. The two girls took positions surrounding Aoba.

“W-wait! I’m getting out, I’m getting out,” he protested, trying to get away from them, but they each grabbed a hand as he reached for the lip of the pool and dragged him back into the water.

“You know you love this, Kuronuma. Stop trying to hide how excited you are.”

“…Fondness.” [That’s so cute.]

He was a weak-willed boy being humiliated by girls, but all the male classmates who passed by the pool looked at him with envy.

“Hey, Aoba, what’s the deal? Are you actually going out with those two?” one of them called out.

“They’re just playing you, dude.”

“Kuronuma doesn’t have the guts to go out with a girl,” they mocked, to hide their naked jealousy. None of them had girlfriends, obviously. But they were completely correct, and Aoba had no response.

He was a bad guy—he’d created the Blue Squares, brought Mikado into them, and plotted to use the Dollars for his own ends—but he had almost no experience interacting with girls, even as friends. He was completely out of his element with these twins.

But his classmates had no idea about that or his secret side, so the only thing they muttered about among themselves was “Look at that lucky wuss, getting along with those hot twins.”

“Damn, I’m so freakin’ jealous.”

“Should we go somewhere else to look for girls?”

“You know, I heard a story about some upperclassman from Raira hitting on all kinds of girls around town last year.”

“Yeah, I saw him a lot when I was in middle school. I hear he dropped out, though.”

“Really?”

“It was about him eloping with a girl or something.”

“You sure? I heard he got a job so he could save up for their wedding.”

“In any case, I’m jealous. They’ve got girls.”

“…This is getting sad.”

Their attention gradually transitioned away from Aoba, and they trudged off to the locker room to change. Aoba watched them go, then dunked his head into the water and exhaled, cooling both his body and mind.

…And hoping that the girls on either side of him wouldn’t melt the core of malice at the center of his being.

Tokyo

“…So you can see what a problem I’m stuck in. They’re both majorly hot. I was so tempted to just give up on everything and dive right into Kururi’s ample chest.”

“I’ll kill you!” the tall boy snarled into the phone, grinding his teeth.

However, on the other end of the line, Aoba was totally undisturbed.

“I’ve heard you say ‘I’ll kill you’ so many times, I’m bored of it, Yoshikiri. Besides, they’re both gunning for Yuuhei Hanejima, got that? And not as groupies—they’re dead serious. I guess knowing the guy’s brother makes them think they’ve got a decent shot.”

“Aoba…are you really gonna bring up the name of the one guy who practically defines being a player? Are you doing this to me intentionally?”

“Save up your rage at successful men for when we destroy Izaya Orihara.”

“I’m assuming this Izaya Orihara guy really is a player, then.”

“From what I understand, he had these, like, cultist groupies that followed him around ever since his high school days. And Kururi and Mairu call him stuff like Big Brother and Iza.”

“…All right. I get the picture. And after you were splashing and giggling it up at the pool with those twins, I’ll kill you along with him.”

“So you’re going to kill me either way,” Aoba said, snorting. That mirth only fueled Yoshikiri’s irritation further.

“And you’re just making me mad because you want to die, right? And that’s why you decided to call me?”

“Nope, that’s not it. After I had lunch with the girls, I did some independent research on something Izaya’s been struggling with lately.”

“Lunch?! You had lunch…with two girls?!”

“That wasn’t the point of that statement. Just listen to me. There’s this weird group called Heaven’s Slave that’s selling drugs around Tokyo. They’re squabbling with the Awakusu-kai now.”

“…Never heard of ’em. So what did you eat?”

“Russia Sushi. Anyway…Heaven’s Slave doesn’t get around in Ikebukuro, so it’s no wonder you haven’t heard of them. ’Bukuro’s pretty safe as a general rule, and any place that might deal in that sort of stuff is probably running under Awakusu-kai supervision. They’ve got a guy named Akabayashi who’s legendary for his hatred of drugs.”

“Got it. So you bought these girls lunch, thus putting you into a natural high without the need of chemical assistance. You must be very proud.”

“Actually, they paid for the food. They’re kind of rich, actually.”

“They paid! For! Your! Lunch! Wowwwwww! So you didn’t pay for their food, you didn’t even split the bill; you must feel like such a pimp, eh? They paid for your lunch! And then you came running to tell me about it! Wowwwwwwwww! I’m gonna kill ya! Die!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now, Heaven’s Slave is the name of both the dealers’ group and the product itself. Or at least, that’s my assumption. And to finally get to the point, they’re putting out feelers for Izaya Orihara.”

“…How do you know that?”

“There’s a nightclub they’re using as a base right now, and an old friend of mine works there. I was trying to look up something about Izaya, and he happened to have this bit of intel. These guys who normally hang out in a private room at the club suddenly hit the dance floor and started sniffing around for traces of Izaya Orihara.”

“Hang on. Even you know where they hang out, Aoba. You really think the Awakusu-kai yakuza wouldn’t know that, too? Why haven’t they crushed these guys yet? Or do they have backing from some other mafia?”

“I don’t know if there are other yakuza involved, but I bet the Awakusu-kai are waiting for the right moment. There’s this guy named Shijima in the group, a college student. His parents are apparently pretty big rollers with weight to throw around. And there’s barely any info out there about the group’s leader. It’d be easy to get that info if you nab Shijima and some of the others and pry it outta them. But it seems like they’re waiting for the right moment to take that step most effectively.”

“I see. And do we factor into this somehow?”

“Just watching for now. I don’t know how Izaya Orihara figures into it, but it’s probably best if we shore up our position now, while we have the chance. We can’t just ignore it, obviously, so we’ll be watching with maximum vigilance.”

“All right. Die.”

“Now you’re not even justifying your death threats with a logical reason, Yoshikiri… But anyway, the point is, there’s some weird stuff afoot. From what I hear, even the remnants of the Yellow Scarves are acting funny.”

“Sure it’s not your older brother pulling some shit again?”

“No…I’m not talking about the old Blue Squares we had infiltrate them. I mean the guys we were beefing with back then.”

“Oh, those guys. The time that we were around seventh or eighth grade, right?”

“You used to brawl it up with high schoolers back then, Yoshikiri. And you almost never lost.”

“The ridiculous thing is that for being older than me, they were so much weaker. Seniority’s an urban legend, man.”

“That’s not how the word seniority works, but whatever. Actually, I’m amazed you even know that word. Who’d you hear it from, your grandma?”

“…I’ll kill you!”

“I’m telling you, you’re really bringing down the value of the death threat, Yoshikiri. I’ve heard it so many times, it doesn’t frighten me anymore. Why do you have such a small vocabulary anyway? Don’t you know any words other than I’ll, kill, you, and seniority?”

“…~~~!”

Yoshikiri issued a high-pitched screech of rage, gripping the phone so hard the plastic creaked.

In the distance, another boy called out, “Hey, Yoshikiri, pass me the phone.”

“…”

“I’m done over here. He’s the only one left.”

Yoshikiri ground his teeth one last time, then tossed the phone to his companion…

…and with his other hand, he blocked an incoming metal bat.

“Hello? Hey, it’s me. You know me. Wire me some cash, will ya?” joked the other boy into the phone.

“Oh, hey, Gin,” Aoba replied. “Where’s Yoshikiri?”

“He’s finishing off the last guy,” said the boy named Gin as he watched Yoshikiri put the heel of his shoe through the front teeth of a rough-looking guy. “He’s so talented, man. How is he able to fight and talk on the phone at the same time?”

There were a number of other young men on the ground around Yoshikiri, either unconscious or writhing in pain. He’d taken on all of them with one hand, two feet, and one forehead during his conversation with Aoba.

“And it was all I could do to handle just three of them. But hey, we weren’t able to be around during that whole stalker incident. It’s a shame to the Blue Squares’ name that the one stalker took down so many of our guys. I can’t believe it.”

“C’mon, don’t take it that way. That stalker was way tougher than he had any right to be. I’m more concerned about that Yellow Scarves guy who took out two of our own elsewhere.”

“That’s embarrassing, too. Two-on-one, and we lost? When your family gets shown up, so do you. That’s why me and Yoshikiri are out for blood this time, to make up for it. I put out the call for our best muscle to roll over the competition today, and you know what happens? The Nitari brothers wanted to watch some anime, Neko’s with his girl, and Houjou’s asleep. So it was up to just the two of us to do all the damn work.”

There were more victims at Gin’s feet, but he had blood trailing from his temple, too. It seeped down onto the cell phone.

Aoba didn’t sound particularly concerned. “Yeah, Yoshikiri might be a good fighter, but he’s not a good thinker. I’m pretty sure the only word he said over the phone was kill.”

“What? Why? What did you say to him?”

“Just that I went to the pool with Kururi and Mairu.”

“Oh, fuck off and die. And why the hell aren’t you here anyway?” Gin demanded.

Aoba laughed. “Sure, I’ll die one day. I’m only human. But I’d like to live to be eighty.”

“Really? You think you’re gonna get to live another eighty seconds?”

“Why is it that every person in this gang is so unbelievably rude?” Aoba wondered aloud.

“Hey, just be happy you’ve got someone with you at all. If the real pieces of shit like you didn’t have guys like us around, you’d go antisocial and end up spending the rest of your life behind bars!” Gin accused.

“I play good at school, so I actually have lots of friends.”

“Okay. Whatever you say. Die. Shi-ne! If I wrote that in English, it would be S-H-I-N-E!”

“That’s not English, just English letters. Why would I want to shine and sparkle?”

“Uh…shine and sparkle from a nuclear reaction inside your body that kills you, bitch! I hope you burn into ash, loser!” Gin’s taunt was like a kid in the schoolyard.

Aoba sensed that this back-and-forth could last forever, so he decided to get down to business. “So…? How’s Mr. Mikado doing?”

“Oh, he’s alive. You wouldn’t believe what a wuss he is in a fight. He passed out, so we’ve got him in the car. He’s no better than you or Yatsufusa, actually. I can’t imagine why he wanted to participate in purging the Dollars himself. The boss is supposed to hang back and yuck it up while the muscle does the work.”

“Actually, I might not be his match in a fight, either,” Aoba murmured happily, mostly to himself.

“Even I can’t imagine…how he might turn out after all this.”

After he hung up, Aoba gazed at the scar on the back of his right hand.

“I really am looking forward to seeing what becomes of you, Mikado.”

Then he recalled something Gin had just said to him: “…If I didn’t have anyone with me at all…? I don’t want to think about it.”

An image floated into his head, the brother of the twins he liked—the face of a man he thoroughly disliked.

“I don’t want to turn out like that piece of shit.”

He squinted in displeasure, shut his flip phone, and thought—

Speaking of people hanging around, what’s the connection between that one doctor and Izaya?

The man in the white lab coat had held a scalpel to Aoba’s throat when he’d tried to make contact with the Headless Rider. He seemed dangerous.

You’re just like Izaya Orihara, the man had said.

Aoba reflected on him.

They’re not…simply friends, I suspect.

He’d been curious and looked into it once.

But the answer he found was strange: In middle school, Izaya Orihara stabbed the man who would later be a black market doctor, Shinra Kishitani, in the stomach.

Usually, that would lead to hatred. To enemies.

But they say they were in the same high school after that…

So really, what is their relationship like?

Twelve years ago, summer vacation, Raijin Middle School, biology classroom

“I look forward to your accomplishments, Vice President!” Shinra beamed, clapping him on the shoulder.

Izaya smirked. “I take that to mean you intend to do no work of your own?”

“Whoever said that? I’m just going to cheer you on.”

Shinra was sitting in one of the rotating seats in the biology classroom, spinning wildly like it was some kind of toy. They’d established the biology club after all, and the school assigned them to the classroom of the same subject. Shinra was the president, and Izaya was the vice president.

Their primary activity was cultivating plants, but because it revolved mostly around carnivorous ones, it wasn’t very flashy. Most other students either found the insectivores curious or creepy, and nobody really wanted to be personally involved.

But there were a few eccentrics who joined at the founding, and they performed upkeep on the plants in rotation, which left each individual with little to do. But that was entirely the point—they’d chosen carnivorous plants that were especially easy to care for.

Thus, the brevity of time they had to dedicate to the club was second only to those with no extracurriculars at all, and as long as they had containers with actual plants growing in them, no one could accuse them of propping up a fake club for credit.

But when summer vacation came around, their faculty advisor told them they’d be making a presentation at the school culture festival, so they needed to plan some kind of exhibition now while they had time. Someone had to visit the school to take care of the plants anyway, a duty that Izaya accepted, though they told the school they would be coming on rotation.

Now, on the first day of summer vacation, they were supposed to have a meeting at the clubroom with all members present. But all the others preferred not to come to school at all and told Shinra or Izaya on the last day before vacation that they’d let the two bosses handle everything.

“Since everyone else just ditched us, I guess that means we get to make all the decisions. And since I fully intend to press all the responsibilities onto you, that means you get to call the shots. Good for you!”

“Let’s see. Here’s my idea: You die right here, then I observe the state of your decomposition and display the results at the culture festival,” Izaya replied. It sounded like something a serial killer would do—but aside from the fact that an individual couldn’t legally do this in Japan, Izaya understood that this was, in fact, a legitimate area of study. There was a research group that placed cadavers in various places and examined the results for science.

Let’s see, where is it…? he wondered, consulting his memory. To his good fortune, Shinra saved him the trouble.

“Ah yes, there was a lab at a college in Tennessee that’s attempting that experiment, if I recall. They call it a body farm, don’t they? They receive donated corpses and place them in various environments, then take detailed data from the decomposition, insect festering, and so on. That forensic data helps the police estimate the time of death in murder cases, for example,” he blathered.

“You’re…rather well acquainted,” Izaya remarked, surprised.

“Dad’s a researcher for Nebula. He always talks about stuff like that during dinner.”

“I think I’m beginning to see why your mother left him.”

“Hey, I didn’t think you remembered that bit from my introduction.” Shinra laughed. He wasn’t upset at all about the crack at his family. Without losing his smile, he followed that up with “But I wonder…what would happen if we didn’t decompose?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t mean saponification, when we’re preserved well enough that our body fat just hardens up. I mean, if a dead body stays perfectly pristine, does that mean it can be a proper object of love for other people?”

What the fuck is he talking about? Izaya wondered. Was Shinra confessing that he was a necrophiliac?

But as usual, rather than anything else, Izaya found this idea quite fascinating. He said nothing, waiting for Shinra to continue.

For his part, the other boy didn’t act like he’d just confessed some deep secret. Quite matter-of-factly, he said, “What if there was an incredibly beautiful dead woman, like the only thing that was different was that her heart wasn’t beating?”

Okay, so this is a necrophilia thing. Izaya always felt that Shinra was bizarre; now he was excited to hear whatever sexual fetish lurked under this eccentric’s exterior.

Then the conversation took an odder turn.

“The body never decays. It’s just a body that looks beautiful. But you can’t truly experience love with a body. You can love it, but it can’t return that love, can it? It’s just a dead body.”

“Of course it can’t. The best you could do is a ventriloquist act, if you had an overactive imagination.”

“But what if the body could move around?”

“…You mean…it’s a zombie?” Izaya replied, but Shinra was quite serious.

“No, I don’t think that’s the right term. It’s not all gross and decaying like that. So let’s say you’ve got a dead body moving around that doesn’t decompose. In other words, if it went from a dead body that ought to decompose to a perfectly preserved zombie…could you reach a mutual understanding? Could you fall in love with it?”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“What if the zombie was nice? One that didn’t eat brains or bodies? What if it could understand us, like at the level of a dog? What if that zombie could give you the gentlest smile you’d ever seen? What if that zombie could talk to you like a normal person and tell silly jokes, and the only difference was that its heart wasn’t beating?”

The president of the biology club tapped on a container holding one of their carnivorous plants as he spoke. He was too straightforward about this to be joking, yet the subject matter was so nonsensical that it was impossible to take seriously.

“If it didn’t decompose, still looked pristine, and could tell jokes…then I guess that would be more like a special kind of human being that could move around without a working heart…right?”

“And what if that zombie didn’t have an upper half? Say, she could writhe her gorgeous hips and use her shapely feet to write on paper in order to communicate?”

“That seems…much less human.”

Izaya was having a very hard time figuring out where Shinra was taking this. It was very rare that Izaya felt confusion on account of someone else, but for whatever reason, this boy’s statements had an oddly bewildering effect on him.

The extent of Izaya’s conclusion about the last few months was that something made Shinra Kishitani different from anyone else he’d seen before.

“Would it be weird to fall in love with a zombie that’s only a lower half?”

“I guess it would be more like a foot fetish that’s so extreme it becomes weird?”

“Ah, I see. I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Shinra remarked, impressed. Izaya had no idea what was so profound about his sarcasm.

“If loving a human is normal,” Shinra continued, “and anything else is abnormal, where does the boundary lie? Assuming that the kind of familial love you feel for pets is something else entirely.”

“…?”

“If being alive or dead is one such boundary, then what about someone who’s not alive, not dead, not human, but incredibly close to it? If you fell in love with such a person, would that be normal…or weird? What determines abnormality, and what makes something proper? I’m sure the location of that boundary changes for each person, of course.”

Just then, a fly in the room approached the planter and landed on a Venus flytrap, causing its jaws to snap shut and trap the insect in a cage of green.

Shinra looked off into the distance and commented, “If that plant could somehow communicate with us through telepathy, do you think we could reach an understanding? Do you think it would be abnormal to feel love or friendship with it?”

…No, really, what the hell is he talking about? Izaya wondered, his mind racing behind his placid exterior. He reached one possible answer.

Not alive but not dead… So, like a manga character?

Is that what this is about? He’s looking for advice about being in love with some anime girl? Seems weird to compare her to a zombie without an upper half or whatever.

“Look, I don’t think it’s a huge deal. Some folks like to give their plants names and treat them like people. I don’t know if any of them get so attached that it’s the same level of attraction they feel toward the opposite sex, though. And as long as they’re not hurting anyone, who cares who they love?”

In truth, Izaya enjoyed observing people in the act of harming others for the sake of love, but he chose to hide his true nature and play the role of common sense here. But once again, Shinra went in an unexpected direction.

“Actually, I want to love, even if it does mean hurting someone.”

“Whoa, what?” Izaya snorted.

This Shinra Kishitani guy… He’s just weird.

He doesn’t watch people. He’s not like me. Not like the others.

Shinra has no interest in people. But…that’s not the entire explanation, either.

He doesn’t hate people, or look down on those around him, or even feel disgust at the world. That’s not the reason for his lack of interest.

He just doesn’t see them. It’s like he’s so obsessed with something, people are just part of the background.

…This guy… What in the world is he seeing? I can’t tell what the object of his obsession is.

I would understand if it was some character in a manga or a movie. Some people are just like that…but I feel like Shinra is different.

Shinra noticed that Izaya was lost in thought. He waved his hand in denial and said, “You don’t have to think that hard about it. That was just an example, the thing about hurting people. Anyway, can I ask you to watch the plants for real? I’ll come and do my part, like once or twice a week.”

The sudden shift in topic was jarring; Izaya still wanted to follow up with the other thing. But due to his policy of staying at a comfortable distance, he didn’t speak his mind directly.

I’ve got time. I can figure out what his deal is at my own pace.

He flashed Shinra his usual breezy smile and shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I feel better at least coming to school periodically, rather than just being on vacation the entire time.”

“Okay, cool. I mean, I’d prefer to be at home as much as possible. I just don’t want my family to think I’m not taking my club activity seriously or whatever.”

“Good point. And there’s a bit too much here to actually take it home to care for it,” Izaya said, noting the numerous planters arranged on the sills of the biology class windows.

Shinra was quickly putting his things away, perhaps sensing he had talked too much about something, whatever it was. “Well, I’m going to leave. I’ll come to water them on Friday. Just call me if anything happens before that point.”

“Sure. Until then, I’ll enjoy being the king of the biology class.”

“Just watch out for revolutions. You’re the kind of guy who gets sloppy and winds up guillotined by the common folk.”

“That’s…quite an appraisal.”

For not having any interest, he sure is sharp. And in this case, I have to agree with him, Izaya noted critically.

Shinra scampered out of the room. He was smiling like a little kid who was looking forward to his school field trip. There must’ve been something great waiting for him at home.

What a weird guy. I’ll have to keep observing him. But it’s dangerous to get too close. Gotta be cautious, Izaya thought, more sure than ever about Shinra Kishitani’s abnormality. He looked up at the ceiling and smirked.

“King of the biology class, huh?” he repeated, pleased with himself. “This is looking very convenient for my purposes.”

One month after that, the king of the biology class’s reign came to an end in a most unpredictable way.

He would be ushered into police custody for the crime of stabbing the club president, Shinra Kishitani—an outcome that even Izaya could not have imagined at this point in time.

Twelve years later, Rakuei Gym

“Your brother?” Akane Awakusu asked.

Dressed in her black karate gi, Mairu kicked at a sandbag. “That’s…right! When you…left! Yesterday, the…guy! Who got out of your…car! Was my broth…er! Izaya Oriha…ra!”

She punctuated every few syllables with a different kind of kick, her feet thudding against the heavy bag.

“Izaya?” Akane repeated, looking befuddled.

“Why, do you recognize the name? Were those scary Awakusu-kai guys talking about him?”

“No. It’s the same name as someone I know,” the little girl said.

Mairu stopped kicking and reached out to steady the bag before turning her head to ask, “Oh yeah? I thought Izaya was a pretty rare name… Maybe it is Iza, just in disguise.”

“It’s not. He was much skinnier than your brother, Mairu… And he said Izaya wasn’t his first name; it was his last name.”

“Oh, I see. Well, anyone’s better than my brother. Stay away from him for your own good, okay?” Mairu warned. She didn’t ask Akane anything else about the story, because she wasn’t really interested to begin with.

She went back to training against the sandbag.

For her part, Akane recalled the man she knew named Izaya.

There was Nakura, the woman she’d met online. Nakura then put her in touch with another man she knew, the one who’d given her advice on how to survive as a runaway.

He taught her about Shizuo Heiwajima and gave her a stun gun. Thinking back on it now, with a clearer mind, he’d been very fishy in a way.

But she hadn’t told anyone in the Awakusu-kai, including her father, about Izaya or Nakura. If they found out about the involvement those two had in her runaway spree, who knew what her father might do to them in secret. She couldn’t bear the thought.

So Akane had been quite steadfast in protecting the names Nakura and Izaya under duress—even though she was at least knowledgeable enough now to recognize that something had been off about them.

And after that point, I stopped getting messages from Nakura…

Even still, Akane prayed that the people she’d encountered hadn’t met an untimely fate at the hands of the Awakusu-kai.

I wonder what they’re doing now.

Tokyo, in a vehicle

“So, you suspect that Orihara asshole, Mr. Shiki?” asked the young driver.

From the backseat, Shiki muttered, “Just a hunch, that’s all. Got nothing behind it yet.”

“But he seemed totally cool when he and Miss Akane met face-to-face yesterday…and she was acting like she’d never met him before.”

“Maybe so. But even if he was involved in her running away from home, I doubt he’s stupid enough to have put himself out there directly. I really was just dropping him off along the way to picking her up yesterday, honest.”

His voice was tense and thick, the emotion physically suppressed beneath it. Shiki had no intention of speaking his truthful mind after that.

The driver sensed the land mine waiting there and cleverly altered the subject.

“You think that Orihara guy’s gonna find something on Amphisbaena?”

“I’m not holding out hope. But I’m not counting him out, either. He’s clearly got a different set of information sources than ours.”

“And we can’t just…take his over or something?” the driver asked, unable to leave the fascinating topic of Izaya alone.

Shiki just shook his head.

“If the way his system worked was that straightforward, we’d have done it already. And for one thing, he’s impervious to threats, and his network vanishes if we kill him. The best answer is just to use him properly. Well…second-best, maybe,” he said, correcting himself.

He glared at the man in the driver’s seat and warned, “It might be best for the Awakusu-kai if we simply get rid of him altogether, rather than make use of him. But we just don’t know that yet. He’s that tricky of a man to deal with, got it?”

“You could get rid of him easy if you wanted to, Mr. Shiki.”

“You think so? I’ve heard he does business with the Medei-gumi directly. So as their subordinates, if we want to kill him, we’d better have a damn good reason. We’d have to tell them he’s playing with fire and that it’s going to be the death of you.”

It was probably Shiki’s idea of a joke, but the driver felt terror in his spine as though needles of ice were being inserted there. He was done asking about Izaya at last.

For his part, Shiki held his silence and considered what had happened over the Golden Week holiday.

The biggest question is Shizuo Heiwajima. Why did he come to the place where our guys got whacked?

Over Golden Week, the gang’s leader-in-waiting, Mikiya Awakusu, secretly paid Vorona and Slon, a pair of guns for hire, to eliminate some moles in their midst—but for whatever reason, Shizuo Heiwajima appeared on the scene, which forced the Awakusu-kai to mark him as a wanted man.

It’s certainly possible that Izaya Orihara would’ve known about Slon’s job, because even if Slon himself didn’t give away the game, Orihara would be able to follow or tap him and put the picture together for himself. Then, right at the moment that he’d have finished his hit job against the Awakusu-kai moles, he lured Shizuo Heiwajima to the spot of the hit…

You really couldn’t pull that off unless you knew about the nature of the job beforehand. I suppose I should assume there was some other connection there, aside from Slon and his contract.

But if one thing’s for sure, it’s that you can’t trust Izaya Orihara.

Eventually, the driver gave in to the pressure of Shiki’s silence. Glancing through the rearview mirror, he asked, “How’s the other thing going? Those students who are messing with Mr. Akabayashi.”

“Ah…them. We’ve got a handle on one kid who’s high on their totem pole. The problem is, his dad and gramps are big civic figures. If we piss them off, we’ll have more problems on our hands than just inside the Medei-gumi.”

“What’s the plan, then?”

“Honestly, the ideal scenario would be if the people distributing Heaven’s Slave ended up in a death struggle with Amphisbaena, but…”

Shiki chose not to say the second half of that sentence aloud. He merely thought it.

…But writing that scenario requires the Amphisbaena info we hired Izaya Orihara to get…and I don’t like that, not one bit.

Tokyo, rooftop

“Hi there, courier. Were you enjoying your time with Shinra last night?” Izaya asked, his typical smirk greeting Celty, despite the fact that she found it very unpleasant.

With obvious disgust, she typed, “Don’t you dare try to imagine what our home life is like. What kind of enjoyment are you imagining?”

“Well, that’s rather hostile. I would have figured that you’d take my statement as positive acknowledgment that you and Shinra have a very cozy relationship.”

“Anyway, I heard about a little something.”

“Heard about what?” Izaya replied without a hint of curiosity.

She shoved her PDA into his face. “About the scar on Shinra’s torso.”

“…”

“He fessed up and told me the entire story.”

“For whatever reason, he really will tell you anything. Even in high school, I don’t think he told a single soul about that,” Izaya grumbled, shaking his head. The grin he wore suggested that he expected this might happen, however. That was enough to convince Celty.

“You can’t be trusted.”

“What next, then? Will you quit the job?”

“No, that’s a different story. Whatever happened in the past, you’re still one of Shinra’s few friends. Technically speaking.”

“Friend…? Do you really suppose Shinra thinks of me and Shizu as friends?” He chuckled.

“What do you mean?” she shot back.

“He has no interest in people. Out of everything in this wide, wide world, the only thing he’s truly paying attention to is you. Shizu and I might think of Shinra as a friend, but he barely notices us. In the end, he’ll always prioritize you. I bet the only reason he puts up with the two of us is because you told him something about treasuring his friends years back, didn’t you?”

Celty’s fingers paused. It was true that she’d been saying something like that to Shinra for ages.

Shinra had once helped out at Yagiri Pharmaceuticals in order to fulfill his own desired love, she recalled. He would even lie to me if it would allow him to be with me.

But ultimately, he captured her heart for good on the very night this lie was exposed.

She envisioned Shinra as she knew him, based around her connection to him—and slumped her shoulders.

“…I suppose I can’t dismiss that out of hand. He’s not the type of person to distinguish between good and evil, and it’s questionable if what he feels toward you and Shizuo is what normal people would call ‘friendship.’”

“Right?”

“But what is ‘normal friendship’ anyway? Can you really define something that nebulous?”

She understood the special nature that defined her and Shinra—but she couldn’t deny that hearing Izaya insult her man made her angry.

“Besides, you’re pretty abnormal, too, if you think the only thing that defines a friend is whether they prioritize you or not.”

“You’re mistaken. I think of everyone in the world, including Shinra—well, not Shizu, obviously—as being my friends, and my lovers, and my family.”

“So you’ve got an interest in every human being alive, and Shinra has none. I still think Shinra’s the more normal of the two of you,” Celty argued, unable to help herself. Really, she just wanted to get to the topic of the job.

Izaya spread his hands in a gesture of wounded pride. “Shinra’s more normal than me? Listen, I’m not trying to insult him, but if you really heard the entire story of his scar, then you must understand, right? Shinra’s never been normal.”

“You might be right about that.”

“And you’re the one who drove him crazy. You might not have intended for it to happen, but Shinra Kishitani was nevertheless bewitched by a dullahan—an otherworldly being. It might be his own belief that you are greater than human, but once that idea took root, it only makes sense that he’d consider humanity to be of lower importance, right?”

He was obviously trying to rattle Celty, but she neither avoided his challenge nor felt bothered by it.

“Yes, I understand that. I’ve never thought of myself as being all that special, but I do agree that it might be because of me that Shinra ended up so abnormal.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m not going to do anything. I’ll be with Shinra to the end,” she declared.

Izaya’s eyes slid away. He snorted. “Is that meant to be some kind of atonement? Don’t you know that spoiling him will only make Shinra’s hatred of humanity—no, not hatred, his disinterest in humanity—even worse?”

“Maybe it will. But right now…I don’t want to be separated from him. I realized this stronger than ever when he recently got hurt. I can’t forgive those who hurt him, and I’m willing to play along with your distasteful work to get even.”

“…”

“You see, Shinra does love me…and I love him, too.”

Izaya read the long, long message, and his lips loosened into a little smile. He shrugged and turned his back on Celty. “You’re making me embarrassed just by reading that. I wonder if the reason you can say that without pause is either because you’re more human than human or because you’re not human at all… But in either case, you’re a monster, so I’m not interested.”

“You’re all talk.”

“But I’ve got nothing else to say.”

Izaya walked toward the rooftop fence and picked up a bag that had been resting against it.

“So, let’s discuss this job.”

Several minutes later

Outside the building, the rider in the black suit rubbed the seat of her motorcycle. In the figure’s left hand was a black carrying bag for a laptop—the item Izaya Orihara had entrusted to the courier.

A man hiding behind a vending machine spoke into his phone.

“It’s the Black Rider. Confirmed.”

On the other end of the line was a soft-spoken man. “So the rider’s connected to Izaya Orihara.”

“Hey, Shijima, what’s Kumoi saying?”

“He’s curious as to what Orihara’s ferrying around, but we know for sure that he’s been looking into Amphisbaena the last few days. Maybe he’s already found something.”

“Shall I keep watching?”

“…Nah, we don’t want the Awakusu-kai destroying Amphisbaena. Remember, the whole point of this is for us to take over their system entirely.”

Shijima’s Heaven’s Slave group learned about the existence of Amphisbaena shortly after Akabayashi dealt the drug dealers a devastating setback. Among their buyers was someone who’d made some money at Amphisbaena’s secret casino, so as a test, they snuck a few of their own in to gamble there.

But after a few times trying their luck, every one of their friends stopped getting the usual notices informing them of the location of the next casino event, all at once. Shijima had to assume that Amphisbaena were onto them.

In fact, that customer of theirs who had first told them about Amphisbaena also stopped getting the notices, and he complained that it was their fault. However, that gentleman didn’t argue for long once they threatened to withhold his drugs.

They found the reason for their being disinvited quite easily. The casino used special chips in the shape of large coins that were only distributed to members. They served as identification when making a bet and recorded wins and losses electronically.

Upon dismantling one and examining it, they found what looked like a bug and a transmitter. Amphisbaena must’ve been gleaning information through the chips, which helped them identify potential sources of danger that they ought to close out of the loop.

The devices didn’t have very powerful batteries, of course, but the chips were exchanged for new ones at every casino event. They claimed it was to prevent against tampering with internal data, but in light of this new information, it seemed clear that it was actually so they could pop in fresh batteries on a short turnaround.

With an intercept and a GPS transmitter, they could effectively collect the secrets of their members and utilize that information for extortion and blackmail when needed. But if anyone found out about the transmitter, it would lead to trouble. Shijima suspected it must’ve sent some kind of emergency signal when dismantled, which ensured that they could cut loose any casino members who violated their trust.

“Kumoi wants that system. I think it’s quite fascinating myself. If we choose our place carefully, we could even create our own new network for selling Heaven’s Slave. I’d like to have connections to get those bugs and transmitters wholesale, too.”

“So we’re not going to just destroy them,” said the man watching the Black Rider.

On the other end of the line, Shijima said, “That’s right. Just a discussion…or a fair transaction at the minimum should be sufficient. And there’s no point to any of it if we don’t have personal information on who we’re dealing with.”

“And that’s what we’re leaving up to this Izaya Orihara guy.”

“That’s right. If he’s doing this on behalf of the Awakusu-kai, we’ve got to handle him before he finishes the job.”

“Handle?” the man repeated.

If there was any doubt as to the clinical nature of that term, Shijima eliminated it by making his meaning ice clear. “We don’t want the Awakusu-kai finding out this stuff. Once we’ve got the information, it would be best if he quietly vanished.”

“So you’re gonna kill him?”

“Don’t say that out loud in the open. What if someone overhears you?”

“Wait, I thought you said that in the worst-case scenario, we could at least make a deal with him,” protested the man, unnerved by the ease with which Shijima suggested a hit.

“That was referring to Amphisbaena,” clarified Shijima, who seemed confused. “They’re at odds with the Awakusu-kai. But Izaya Orihara is working for them. So how would we join forces with him?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Why are you so pessimistic about this? Yes, we failed, but the point is, we’ve already attempted to kill Akabayashi before.”

“But he’s just a civilian,” said the man, still persisting.

Shijima’s tone stayed even. “Dogs working on the Awakusu-kai’s orders aren’t ‘just civilians.’”

“But…”

“Hang on. I just got a message from Mr. Kumoi.”

“…?!”

The lookout’s mind, which was still lukewarm with indecision, instantly froze as though clutched by dry ice at the mention of Kumoi’s name.

“I’ve got to go see him.”

“…Are you…serious?”

“Yeah…I might have some new scars to show off next time.” Shijima sighed. He chuckled and suggested, “Maybe I’ll force Izaya Orihara to pay the price for these injuries.”

With a little smile, Shijima offered one last bit of evidence for his argument.

“See? Now we’ve got another reason to kill him, don’t we?”

Twelve years ago, last day of summer vacation, Raijin Middle School

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Well, it’s not your problem, is it?”

“Hey, I told my family that I thought of you as a friend.”

“And?”

“So if it becomes a question of why my friend was doing this and I didn’t stop him…that’s a problem for me.”

“Are you an idiot, Shinra? It’s like you have no free will of your own. Are you just a puppet who does what your family says?”

“I’m fine with being a puppet if it means I’m connected by a string to someone I care about.”

“This is a pointless conversation.”

A student from the art club happened to overhear this quiet argument on the way past the biology room. It was clearly a disagreement but didn’t seem likely to escalate into a fight, so the student continued onward.

Five minutes later…

“What was that sound?!” demanded a PE teacher who’d been giving lessons down on the field and came running up to the room when he heard the sound of breaking glass.

He found a student on the ground, tape wrapped around his bloodied torso. His face was pale and his breathing shallow.

“Kishitani?! What happened?!”

Shinra Kishitani gave a bloodless smile to reassure the teacher and quietly muttered, “I got…stabbed a bit. Can you…call an…ambulance?”

A few hours later, Izaya Orihara finally made his appearance, turning himself in to the police for processing.

The vice president of the biology club stabbed the president and then ran.

What happened between the two? Shinra Kishitani and his father did not file charges, and the school was terrified of what the news would do to appearances—so the incident simply faded into the shadows of history, never reported.

The only permanent records of it were on Shinra’s stomach and Izaya’s past.

Chat room

.

.

.

The chat room is currently empty.

The chat room is currently empty.

The chat room is currently empty.

TarouTanaka has entered the chat.

TarouTanaka: Hello.

TarouTanaka: It’s been quite a while.

TarouTanaka: I just read the backlog. It looks like we’ve had many new people join.

TarouTanaka: My name is TarouTanaka.

TarouTanaka: I’m sorry I haven’t been available recently.

TarouTanaka: I think it’s likely I won’t be able to visit for a while yet.

TarouTanaka: Oh, not because I’m in trouble or anything, just that I’m busy…

TarouTanaka: If I’m able to drop by again, I’ll try to be a newcomer and make up for lost time.

TarouTanaka: I’d like to be able to enjoy some fun chats about Ikebukuro with Setton and everyone else.

TarouTanaka: Well, that’s all.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: This is visible only to you, Kanra. I mean, Mr. Orihara.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: I’m not sure if you’re seeing this or not, but I wanted to say it anyway.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: I’m involved in a bunch of stuff right now.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: You might be aware of it already.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: But I’m not doing any of this because someone else told me to.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: I just wanted you, of all people, to know that it’s of my own volition.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: Honestly, I’m afraid.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: But I know that this is something I need to do…

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: Maybe I shouldn’t be wasting your time with all of this. I’m sorry.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: You can totally ignore all of this if you want…

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: I just wanted to make sure that at least someone else witnessed how I’m feeling right now…

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: Just having that knowledge will be a source of strength for me.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: At our first meeting last year, you said something to me.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: “If you truly want to escape the ordinary, you need to keep evolving.”

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: But I wasn’t able to evolve.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: I wanted to cling to my ordinary life.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: I want to have the same life with Sonohara and Masaomi that I had before.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: I want to take it back.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: I want those Dollars. From that night.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: I’m not looking for the extraordinary anymore.

<Private Mode> TarouTanaka: I just want those days to come back to me.

Bacura has entered the chat.

Bacura: Hello.

Bacura: TarouTanaka,

Bacura: It’s too bad you won’t be able to come for a while.

Bacura: Let’s talk again sometime.

<Private Mode> Bacura: Mikado,

<Private Mode> Bacura: If it’s about the other day,

<Private Mode> Bacura: I’m not worried about it.

<Private Mode> Bacura: In fact,

<Private Mode> Bacura: From your and Anri’s perspective,

<Private Mode> Bacura: I’d expect you to still be mad about me up and leaving like that.

<Private Mode> Bacura: But,

<Private Mode> Bacura: There’s one thing I want to say.

TarouTanaka: Hello, Bacura.

TarouTanaka: Well, thanks for letting me say my mind, everyone.

TarouTanaka: So long.

TarouTanaka has left the chat.

<Private Mode> Bacura: Mikado.

<Private Mode> Bacura: There was a bit of time between then and when you logged off,

<Private Mode> Bacura: Were you messaging someone in Private Mode?

<Private Mode> Bacura: I’m not going to ask who,

<Private Mode> Bacura: But listen,

<Private Mode> Bacura: I want to get in touch,

<Private Mode> Bacura: When you log in again, check the log,

<Private Mode> Bacura: And if you feel like talking, respond to me here.

<Private Mode> Bacura: I’ll call you.

Bacura has left the chat.

The chat room is currently empty.

The chat room is currently empty.

The chat room is currently empty.

.

.

.