Durarara!!, Vol. 4 (novel) (19 page)

In the future

An excerpt from the foreword of
Ikebukuro Strikes Back II

Hi.

Just to start with, I am not going to reveal my identity, and you probably wouldn’t believe me, even if I did.

So let me just say that I will not reveal my own existence to you. In exchange, you are free to imagine whatever you like about me.

For one thing, I am almost entirely unrelated to any of the events I will describe in this book. I did have a small part to play in the Night of the Ripper, but it was only within the limited influence of the Internet, which is to say that I was barely involved at all.

Basically…I just watched.

That’s all I did: watched.

I said that I would not reveal my identity, but I can tell you my name.

My name is Shinichi. Shinichi Tsukumoya.

But that doesn’t really mean anything, so you don’t need to bother remembering it.

An excerpt from
Ikebukuro Strikes Back II
, Chapter 5: The Knight of Shadow Rides in the Sun
.

Are you aware of the motorcycle gang incident that transpired one spring afternoon in Ikebukuro this year?

A number of different gangs were fighting for territory and racing through the streets, creating traffic conditions as unsafe as a tornado or Spain’s running of the bulls. For one thing, they were fighting as they rode. It must have been quite a shocking sight to the passing residents, tourists, and shoppers. It’s said that a single police motorcyclist brought the incident under control. But what was the cause of it?

It was the existence of the very polar opposite of that white chopper—the Black Rider.

Shortly before the incident, the Internet was ablaze. Triggered by shocking footage (covered in another chapter) aired on live TV, a major talent agency placed a massive bounty on the man (or woman) who rode the infamous black motorcycle. A bounty worth ten million yen.

For the next several days, many people chased that dream: the ability to earn as much as the grand prize of the nation’s most famous comedy contest or winning a trivia quiz game show, just for following a motorcyclist around and revealing his or her identity.

It only lasted a few days because the ensuing uproar resulted in the outrage of the police and authorities, local citizens, and other clients of the talent agency, and thus the bounty was promptly withdrawn.

This caused quite a stir. The bounty was a big story in the papers the next day and made headlines again when it was removed, and with the startling TV footage of the Black Rider turning the motorcycle into a horse, the nation was gripped with a fresh new supernatural urban legend boom.

Debate still rages about the veracity of that footage—but I know the truth.

I just won’t write it down here.

As I said in the foreword, I will not interfere in the events of this city.

I needed to stick closely to a policy of observing events without taking part in order to write this book.

At any rate, I will not be disclosing the identity of the Black Rider in this book.

I do know it. But whether or not you believe me is up to you, dear readers.

In the same way, the Ikebukuro Motorcycle Gang Incident has its own background.

Based on the results, one might think that it was merely a number of rowdy gangsters from another prefecture that briefly invaded the city, then went back home.

But no.
Something happened.

Something that wasn’t reported in the papers or on TV.

I know what it was that happened, but I choose not to reveal it here.

If you really want to learn about it, I invite you to search for the truth on your own.

There is always more to the story.

But you cannot learn that truth without paying a price for it.

Ultimately, if you want to learn everything, you have to be involved in it and experience the truth for yourself.

It was the same for me. I just watched.

So while I know the truth that transpired behind the scenes, I don’t know what the people involved were really thinking. It goes without saying that those who were directly involved know exactly how they felt about it.

That’s what this means. So if you really want to find the secret truth of the matter, you have to spend something—money, time, obligation—and read the world like a book with your own hands.

If you’re strong, you might also be able to wrestle the truth out of those involved, as well.

But I wouldn’t recommend that. The consequences could be fatal.

Of course, if you’re tough enough to beat a debt collector dressed as a bartender, then be my guest.

But that’s a story for another time.

At present, highway, Ikebukuro

“Wait, beeyotch!”

“Mohfgaa!”

“Dshbaaag!”

“Drfthjk!”

The young men on their motorcycles surrounded Celty on the road, screeching cries that didn’t even qualify as language.

Oh no… How did it come to this?!

More and more bikers had flooded out of nowhere, and behind them all was a van that looked to belong to a TV news crew.

Do all of you want that ten million yen so badly?! Just do your jobs and save up fifty thousand every month for two hundred months!
she thought to herself, a commonsense bit of advice that was also rather extreme.

Celty squeezed the handlebars and prepared to pump more juice into her partner.
Sorry about this, Shooter!

The motorcycle read its owner’s thoughts perfectly and let out a piercing horse bray rather than an engine roar, leaping forward as if on a spring.

“Wh-wh-whaa—?!” one of the bikers screeched. He couldn’t be blamed for his shock; the bike right in front of him leaped upward six feet into the air from a flat position on the street.

The enormous shadow tilted diagonally and cleared the guardrail, proceeding over the sidewalk and the heads of the shocked onlookers. It landed on the
side
of the building, riding with its sidecar perpendicular to the ground.

To make sure that Celty’s cargo—a human-sized bag with an arm hanging out of it—didn’t fall out of the sidecar, a hand made out of shadow grew out of the bike and held it in place.

The bikers on the street were wide-eyed with shock at the string of unbelievable sights, but their hold on reality was so tenuous that it seemed to snap, and instead they produced a series of threats that almost seemed more indignant than threatening.

“What the hell kinda magic trick is that?!”

“You wanna get sawed in half?!”

“I’m gonna pull a rabbit outta yer ass!”

Aaaah! I knew I shouldn’t have taken on this horrifying cargo!

For a moment, Celty’s thoughts returned to the past.

Thirty minutes earlier

“I’m very sorry about this. It will be a rather bothersome job,” said a tall man with a cold mask covering his mouth and nose, sunglasses over his eyes, and a hat pulled low on his brow.

He was essentially fashioned entirely out of suspicious danger signals. The man pointed out the large bag at his side and said, “I want you to handle this bag for a day.”

“Handle it?”

“Yes, there’s a bit of a situation… I just need you to be in possession of this for a day. Once it passes this time tomorrow, you can just dump the cargo on the side of the road, anywhere you like, or you can return it to this park, where I will dispose of it. Oh, and no inquiries about the contents, please…”

It was about the fishiest job she could imagine. On top of that, Celty had just been tagged with a bounty yesterday. Worried that it might be a bomb or a transmitter of some kind, she made her suspicions quite clear with body language as she typed out,
“…I’m sorry, but who introduced you to me?”

“An information dealer named Izaya Orihara.”

“…Oh. That explains it.”

I should have known.

It wasn’t the first (or second) time she’d received such an eerie job offer. A couple times she had even gotten requests like, “One of my men tried to make his own bomb—schlep it out to the mountains and take care of it.” The outcome of those jobs could have been inserted into any action blockbuster.

And nearly every single person whose request contained a backstory that likely involved things she didn’t want to know about had come to her via Izaya Orihara.

Celty thought it over and noticed that the bag was just about big enough to fit an entire person inside. Alarms went off in her mind.

I have ferried a person on tranquilizers…but that was from Izaya himself
, she recalled, shaking her head. That was about a year ago.
Normally, I would accept it, but given the circumstances…I should decline.

“I’m sorry, but I am a courier. If you need a safe, might I recommend the bank?”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. But could you make an exception?”

“No means—”
she started typing, then stopped. The man was holding out a white envelope, looking around carefully to make sure they weren’t being watched.

“Given the nature of the job, I can pay the full amount up front… I only hope the amount meets your satisfaction.”

Inside the envelope, there weren’t as many Yukichi Fukuzawas as she had lost the day before, but 80 percent of them was good enough. Celty erased her half-written sentence and strung together a new one in less than a second.

“I would be happy to do this for you!”

At present, highway, Ikebukuro

I really shouldn’t have taken on that job. I was too happy to make up what I lost the day before. I got carried away.

But it was too late for regret.

The motorcycle officer had already seen the arm dangling out of the bag. Up until then, she’d only been guilty of traffic infractions, which were simply ticketed on sight. But if she became suspected of murder or dumping a body, they would set up a proper investigation. The thought plunged Celty into despair.

I can handle being chased by the police. But I can’t take the idea of not living with Shinra anymore!

What was the statute of limitations on disposing of a dead body? Could she be charged with it if no body was ever found?

Celty leaped off the side of the building and landed on the face of another one. It was the kind of eerie sight one saw only in CG, but the easy skill of the motion only made the whole thing less real to those who saw it.

Shit, I took the job knowing this might happen…and I knew that I
wasn’t doing a job that was conducive to a stable life…but I still can’t afford to get caught now! At least let me just leave Ikebukuro so those I care about aren’t affected…

She was thinking as if she were caught already. In her resignation, the faces of those she knew flashed through her head, like her life passing before her eyes before death.

So much happened in the last year… I met Mikado and joined the Dollars… I got to be friends with Anri…and most importantly, Shinra and I…

…

Shinra…

No! Enough of that!