Durarara!!, Vol. 1 (novel) (20 page)

“I think you two are very, very similar.”

Near Kawagoe Highway, top floor of an apartment building, late night

The instant she turned the key in the lock, Celty kicked in the door of Shinra’s apartment.

“Oh, welcome home.”

Shinra greeted her with his usual smile, sitting in the living room at his computer. Celty did not bother to undo her shadow boots. She strode directly over to the young man in his white lab coat and grabbed him by the collar.

She wasn’t in the mood to punch at a keyboard, but punching him
wouldn’t be enough, either. She considered how best to register her anger with him.

“Let me guess: ‘What are you playing at?’” he said, putting words to her emotions. “Next you’re going to say, ‘You knew! You knew my head was in that lab for the last twenty years! You and your father have been working with Yagiri Pharmaceuticals from the start! Now that I think back on it, when you two first laid eyes on me, you seemed too calm and accepting! Could it be that your father is the one who stole my head in the first place?! And then you chose to hide the truth, found work as a black market doctor, and mocked up a half-dead girl to look like me! I might be a monster, but you’re the
true
monster here!’ Does that cover it?”

“…!!”

“Oh, and just to clear up any confusion…I don’t know if my dad is the one who stole your head, and I don’t really care either way. Plus, that plastic surgery was done at the girl’s request. Perhaps the Yagiri people prodded her into doing it, but that’s no concern of mine.”

At last, Celty let her grip on his collar loosen the slightest bit. Her trembling fists fell still, stopped in time.

If I could speak aloud, I suppose I would have said each and every one of the words he just attributed to me.

“Let me guess, ‘Can you tell what I’m thinking?’ I didn’t think it even needed to be said.”

He didn’t need to wait for her answer. He knew what her answer would be.

“Yes, I can. I’ve loved you for twenty years. Of course I can tell that much.”

“…”

“If you ask me, people place far too much emphasis on the face when reading the emotions of others. Slight differences in the tension of muscles or the sound of footsteps can tell all you need to know to instantly sense how another person is feeling. And I’ve been watching you do this for years.”

Then why? Why would you keep quiet about the whereabouts of my head until now?

He saw right through her mind, and his voice was heavy with intent and emotion.

“Because I love you. That’s why I stayed quiet about your head.”

“…?”

“Once you got your hands on it, you’d have been gone. I couldn’t stand that happening.”

In short, he was confessing his own selfishness, but there was an optimistic shine to his words.

“I’m not going to say that I’ll give up if that’s truly what will make you happy. This is a battle of your love against mine. Remember what I said? I will spare no effort in seizing victory in our game of fate. So that poor girl—Mika, her name was? I used her in an attempt to make you give up on your head. I’m not going to let you go. I will use the love of others, their deaths, my own self, even your own emotions to keep you here—as contradictory as that sounds.”

In a way, his words were extremely twisted and insane, but there was no doubt clouding his eyes. That was what broke Celty’s will. If he’d played dumb or given her some lame excuse, she would have beaten him until he couldn’t stand and left, never to return. But after such a strong, direct statement of intent, Celty had no response.

She lowered Shinra to the ground again and tapped on the keyboard, trying to regain the sharpness of her anger.

“I’m not going to leave you just because I get my head back—”

“That might be your desire—but it might not be your head’s,” he answered gravely, without any of his usual playfulness. “I’ve given it a good deal of thought. Why is it that in this wide, wide world, you’re the only one who has shown herself to mankind? What is the boundary that separates you from the rest of the dullahans? I think it’s your head. Perhaps losing your head was what allowed you to materialize in our world—made you what you are now.”

He took on a fateful, lovelorn expression, as though reciting a tragic monologue he’d written.

“What if you get your head back and regain your memory, and then you disappear like mist in the morning sun, as though your entire existence until now had been nothing but a hallucination? That thought terrifies me.”

Celty gently lowered herself onto a nearby chair and sat still for several moments.

The sound of the keyboard echoed off the walls of the still room.

“Do you believe what I tell you?”

“I trust you. In fact, I don’t trust anything
but
you.”

Satisfied, Celty slowly typed out a confession of her own.

“I’m scared, too.”

“I’m scared of dying.”

“I know that I am invincible. I understand it as a simple truth that there is not a human being in the world who can kill me. That is not a boast but pure fact. I register no joy or emotion in this fact. But that’s what is so scary. As I am now, there is no part of my body that is in charge of my death. There’s only one explanation: that my head is that part. Somebody could destroy my head without me even being there. And completely isolated from my own will or circumstances, I would…”

She stopped typing there, paused for a moment, then continued tapping the keys.

“Would you believe me? I have no eyes or brain, but I dream. Would you believe that I tremble in fear of this nightmare? It’s this fear, the selfish desire to control my own death, that leads me to search for my head. If I told you that, would you believe me?”

Shinra read every single letter of the confession as it appeared on the screen. When she stopped typing at last, he answered instantly.

“I told you—I don’t believe in anything
but
you.”

And with that, he smiled happily. Smiled like he was about to cry.

“I am utterly and truly lost. I guess we’ve both been stubborn, working off of nothing but assumptions.”

“So stupid.”

The dullahan slowly got to her feet and leaned over to type with one hand.

“Hey, Shinra.”

“What?”

“Let me punch you.”

“Sure,” he replied without missing a beat—and just as quickly, Celty put her fist through his face.

The tremendous sound of the impact echoed off the walls, and the man in his white coat sprawled across the floor. Blood streamed from
his mouth, and he lay prone for several moments. Eventually he got back up and faced Celty again.

“Then let me return the favor.”

Celty had done nothing to deserve being hit back, but she nodded her assent anyway.

As soon as he saw the empty helmet tilt forward, Shinra swung a powerless fist and knocked it off.

Her helmet clattered and spun on the floor.

—?

She had no immediate response to that meaningless, confusing action. The doctor grinned and rubbed his smarting hand.

“There, see? You’re at your most beautiful in your natural state, Celty,” he said, staring at the empty space over her neck. “That punch was our version of a promise kiss.”

She hunched her shoulders down and leaned into his chest—so she could deliver a sharp jab to his gut.

“Bhurgh!”

But she stayed where she was, leaning against his chest.

Meanwhile, her left hand typed, “
You’re such an idiot
.”

There was no need for words anymore. Shinra held her close in silence.

The little shivers that wracked her slender frame told him that she was crying.

Shinjuku, early morning

It was all for her brother’s sake.

Actually, there was no benefit for Seiji—it was entirely for the sake of her desire to see him smile—but she had no personal awareness of this fact.

Immediately following the scene on 60-Kai Street, Namie Yagiri took the head out of the lab. As she expected, shortly after she left there came a report that the Black Rider—the dullahan’s body—had rushed the lab. But she already had the head. If the dullahan got its head back, either Seiji would fall into the depths of despair, or he’d claim that his fated lover was finally whole again for him.

Neither of those options Namie wanted to see.

She had to control the head at all times. It was the only hope she had to keep her brother’s attention on her.

But when she called her uncle hoping to employ his help, she received news that she certainly wasn’t expecting to hear.

There had been an emergency meeting of senior management to confirm the merger with Nebula. Both the company and Nebula must have been observing the incidents surrounding the research lab, not just tonight, but the last several days. Whichever side suggested it, the intention was clearly to finish the deal before any more nonsense occurred.

Naturally, Nebula wanted the dullahan’s head.

Namie slammed the phone down and had the driver turn the car around. She swore never to return to the company and headed off for a group that could help her hide the head.

She couldn’t expect help from the mob; they didn’t have any use for a head like that. If she brought it to another lab, they might prioritize her treatment while they needed her data, but eventually she would be removed from control.

Pushed to the brink of despair, she turned to one last person.

“This is the first time we’ve met in person. Did that list of illegal immigrants help meet your experiments’ needs?”

She was standing in the apartment of Izaya Orihara.

“But then you had to be stupid and screw it all up. You ruined everything thanks to your brother’s twisted love—or was it
your
twisted love for your brother?” Izaya wondered, placing an Othello piece on the board. He was speaking to Namie, who sat directly across from him, but his eyes never left the game board.

“Your superiors aren’t going to like this, are they? Nebula’s a major foreign corporation—hell, they’re a mega-conglomerate. They push people around over in the United States.”

He placed another Othello piece, trapping a shogi pawn between two black pieces.

“And this piece is promoted.”

He flipped the pawn over, turning it into a king. To anyone else, it was a baffling sight, but it clearly meant something to him.

“Kinda dangerous for you, isn’t it? What if they send the mafia after you? Perhaps a crack sniper, hired through a Swiss bank, to put a bullet through your eyes,
blam!
And check.”

He slid the king one space forward, placing the other king in check.

“Why can’t there be a rule that kings can capture each other?”

For the first time, Izaya looked up at Namie. Her eyes were empty with anxiety and irritation—she was in no mood for his games.

He opened the special case sitting next to the shogi board and stared at the head inside. Then he turned to Namie and began to propound an odd theory.

“I think your uncle was a lot like me. He believed in the afterlife less than anyone else. He feared death more than anyone else. And he craved heaven more than anyone else.”

Namie tried to imagine her uncle’s face in Izaya, hoping for some insight into his personality, but she had a shocking lack of interest for any member of her family other than Seiji, and in the moment she could barely remember what her uncle was like.

“But he found the truth. And so did I. There
is
another world beyond ours. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“…?”

He ran his fingers gently through the hair of Celty’s beautiful head.

“It’s said that dullahans only come in what is essentially a female form. Do you know why?”

“…No. My people did some research on mythology, but I thought it was pointless.”

“You’re too logical and pragmatic for that. But I digress… There are many commonalities and connections between mythological tales found all around the world. There’s a heaven called Valhalla in Norse mythology—technically it’s not a heaven, but whatever. It’s similar to the inn of the afterlife as found in Celtic mythology. The Norse believed in female angels clad in armor called Valkyries who came to escort the souls of mighty, worthy warriors to Valhalla. A woman in armor who comes for the dead—sound familiar?”

What’s your point?

Namie had no idea what Izaya was trying to say, but she couldn’t help but be concerned by the angular smile that stayed plastered on his face, looking more like a mask with every passing moment.

“According to one theory, a dullahan is just a Valkyrie wandering the earth. That’s why the dullahans are only female and often depicted wearing armor. That must mean this head is waiting—waiting for the awakening. For the battle. Searching for the holy warrior to take to Valhalla.”

This was entirely his own interpretation, but the way he spoke made it sound like the truth.

“The reason this head’s eyes won’t open, even though it’s alive, is because there’s no war here. I wish I could be chosen as her warrior. But I don’t have the skills to survive if I took it to the Middle East, let’s say.”

And with a glint of hope in his voice, his smile shut out everything else.

“If there really is a Valhalla after death, what should I do? A war—I need to start a war myself. But I’m not going to be of any use in the Middle East. So I need to start a war that only I can orchestrate and star in. Isn’t that right?”

He placed a finger on the corner of the board covered with Othello, shogi, and chess pieces and spun it with evident pleasure. The pieces scattered and flew, leaving only the promoted pawn still sitting in the center.

“However, if I start a war here in Tokyo, one that involves no armies or governments, I’m positive that I have what it takes to survive. How
lucky I am! I lived without faith in heaven, lived a life far from holiness—and because of that, I met a fallen angel of death here on earth!”

Izaya grinned with unbridled glee, his smile devoid of expression. There was no room for anyone or anything to affect his excitement. Namie opened her mouth to say something, but could only produce the clumsiest rebuttal.

“That’s just, like…your opinion.”

“There is only salvation for those of faith. Besides, I’m just saying, this is insurance. I’m taking out insurance on the afterlife. Maybe it’s hell—a place with nothing but suffering—but at least I’ll exist there. Still, if I have the option, I’d prefer heaven.”

He called out to her like he was asking her out to dinner. “Hey, Namie, let’s all go to heaven together.”

As she looked at his mask of pleasure, Namie realized that she was giving this “agent of heaven” to the very last person on earth that she should. He smiled at her.

“I’ll take custody of this head as a member of the Dollars. Celty would never imagine that her head was under her team’s own control, would she?”

Dollars? Celty’s team?

The unfamiliar information closed in on Namie’s will, bewildering her. Izaya giddily offered a deal with the devil.

“You should join the Dollars yourself. Our boss has a policy of pulling in anyone and everyone who comes to us. Of course,
I’m
the one who really started recruiting people.”

He seemed to belittle her, care for her, and bless her all at once.

“Let’s help our fallen angel find her wings and take flight again, shall we?”