Read Online Durarara!!, Vol. 1 (novel) by Ryohgo Narita - Free Book Online

street—but this one was different.
    He was at least six feet tall and covered with thick, ropy muscle that made him look like a wrestler. Even more striking was the
itamae
sushi chef outfit he wore to entice customers to his business.
    Mikado stared wide-eyed, when suddenly the large man noticed him.
    “Nice see you again, bro.”
    “!?!?!”
    Mikado had no idea how to respond. He’d never seen this man in his life, yet was being greeted in the form of a reunion. Just when he thought his smooth sailing in Tokyo was about to come to a crashing end, Masaomi rescued him.
    “Hey, Simon! Long time no see! How’s it hangin’, man?”
    The large man’s attention switched from Mikado to his friend.
    “Hey, Kida. Eat sushi? Sushi good. I make cheap deal. You like sushi?”
    “Not today, Simon, I’m broke. I just started high school, so I can start working a part-time job. How about you give me free sushi now, and I pay you back then?”
    “No can do. Then I sleep with fishes on Russian motherland.”
    “With fishes? On land?” Masaomi chuckled and left the conversation hanging.
    Mikado hurried after him, turning back to Simon to see the large black man waving at them. Bewildered and unaware of how to react, Mikado bowed briefly in apology.
    “You know that guy, too?”
    “Oh, Simon? He’s an Afro-Russian, and he helps draw customers for a sushi place run by Russians.”
    Afro-Russian?
    “Sorry, which part of that was the joke?”
    “No, I’m serious. His actual name is Semyon, but everyone just calls him the English version of that, Simon. I don’t know the whole story, but apparently his parents emigrated there from America. Some other Russian folks he knew were starting up a sushi restaurant, so he works the street, getting the word out.”
    None of it sounded real, but there was only pure sincerity in Masaomi’s eyes. It had to be true. Mikado was still wide-eyed in disbelief, so Masaomi added, “He’s one of those guys you’re not supposed to cross. Once I saw him pick up two guys who were brawling off the ground with one hand each, both of them his size. Word says he broke a telephone pole in half once, too.”
    Mikado shivered, envisioning that tanklike build again. After a few more moments of walking, he murmured, “This is amazing.”
    “Huh? What is?”
    “That you can talk to so many different kinds of people, I mean…”
    Mikado meant it as an honest compliment, but Masaomi just laughed it off as a joke. He cackled and yawned, shrugging it away.
    “Oh no, you can’t butter me up like that.”
    “I’m not.”
    In fact, Mikado had tremendous respect for Masaomi. If he’d been alone, he would have dried up and shriveled amid the sea of humanity that was Ikebukuro. The people who lived here were not all like Masaomi. Ever since grade school, he’d had a special charm that drew others to him, and he had the assurance to speak for himself in any situation.
    How many times had he been blown away by both the neighborhood and Masaomi in just the few days since arriving? Mikado hoped that one day he could be like his friend.
    One of the biggest reasons for Mikado’s exodus to the big city was to escape the familiar sights of his world. This was not a tangible thoughtat the forefront of his mind, but deep within his heart, he was constantly searching for a “new self.” Perhaps in this place, he’d find the “extraordinary” that existed in comic books and TV shows and experience it for himself.
    Mikado didn’t want to be a hero. He just wanted to feel a different kind of breeze through his hair. He didn’t realize it himself, but amid that terrible anxiety deep in his gut on that first visit to Ikebukuro was a powerful elation and excitement that fought for control with his unease.
    And right next to him was someone who had mastered the fresh breeze of his new home, harnessed that excitement for himself. Even at age sixteen, Masaomi had completely blended into this place and made himself a