Read Online Durarara!!, Vol. 3 (Novel) by Ryohgo Narita - Free Book Online
Authors: Ryohgo Narita
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story a while back? Right around the time I returned… It was Shizuo, wasn’t it? They didn’t go back for a rematch with him, did they? If so, I don’t have a lot of sympathy. In fact, if that was the case, I’d tell them to get the hell away.”
His tone was light and jokey, but there was a sheen of sweat on his expression. It was the face of someone who knew the terror that this man named Shizuo commanded.
One of the boy’s companions mumbled, “Er, well… Higa’s group is in a panic, too. They got whacked by some freak wearing a white gas mask. Said their limbs got tied down by…shadows or some weird shit like that.”
“…What is that, some ninjutsu arts or something?”
“I have no idea. Anyway, the Black Rider gave the gas mask dude a ride, and they just took off…”
With that rather unhelpful report, Masaomi was back to a serious expression again. “I wonder what’s up with that Black Rider.”
Anyone who lived in Ikebukuro knew the urban legend of the Black Rider. When his old friend moved to Tokyo, Masaomi had bragged about the rider—but in truth, he didn’t know the identity or intentions of the strange being.
“All I’ve heard is that he’s supposed to be a member of the Dollars.”
Dollars.
The expressions on those in yellow around him slowly began to evolve.
Many of them believed that the slashing incidents were the work ofthe Dollars, and an equal number of them found the concept of a color gang without a color to be eerie and unsettling.
But for whatever reason, all of the Yellow Scarves who were actually hurt in the attacks only claimed that they “didn’t remember” what happened. For the Yellow Scarves, the police, and the media, the full picture of the slasher was still unclear.
Now that the slasher was in hiding, the news had moved on to newer topics, and the incident was beginning to fade from the public’s mind. But for those who had felt the madness of that incident at close range, those who knew some of the victims, the truth of the matter was carved into them just as deeply as those wounds the victims had suffered.
“I have no intention of forgiving whoever cut down my people,” Masaomi announced, his foot perched boldly up on top of a drum canister. He got down and strode through the meaningful glances of the crowd toward the exit, mumbling to himself.
It was a sentiment he had uttered over and over to himself since he had first returned to this place several days ago. As though he was trying to convince himself of something.
“Shit… How dare you suck me back in…”
“Who’s there?!” echoed a sudden shout of anger off the factory walls.
It could have been the bellow of the landowner come to see what was happening—but the shout came from the members of the group standing watch outside.
“What’s up?” Masaomi asked promptly and received an answer from one of the guards just as promptly.
“They said some girl was trying to spy on us… They’re chasing her now.”
“Girl?”
It was probably just some bystander passing by who peered in out of curiosity from all the commotion inside, Masaomi thought. But then he remembered that several members were guarding each entrance to the property, so that seemed unlikely.
“I want to talk to her. Catch her, make it quiet.”
The factory was not particularly large, but there was scrap materialand junked vehicles piled up outside the structure, which might make catching her difficult if she hid among the piles.
Masaomi headed outside to assist in the search, heard the bustle of his fellow members following behind him, and held up a hand. “We don’t need a big group. Just ten will do.”
If the entire gang ran around the property, they would surely draw notice. The last thing a big group like theirs needed was the loss of one of the few places they could meet in private because someone reported them to the police.
Masaomi knew that the authorities had stepped up their crackdown on the color
His tone was light and jokey, but there was a sheen of sweat on his expression. It was the face of someone who knew the terror that this man named Shizuo commanded.
One of the boy’s companions mumbled, “Er, well… Higa’s group is in a panic, too. They got whacked by some freak wearing a white gas mask. Said their limbs got tied down by…shadows or some weird shit like that.”
“…What is that, some ninjutsu arts or something?”
“I have no idea. Anyway, the Black Rider gave the gas mask dude a ride, and they just took off…”
With that rather unhelpful report, Masaomi was back to a serious expression again. “I wonder what’s up with that Black Rider.”
Anyone who lived in Ikebukuro knew the urban legend of the Black Rider. When his old friend moved to Tokyo, Masaomi had bragged about the rider—but in truth, he didn’t know the identity or intentions of the strange being.
“All I’ve heard is that he’s supposed to be a member of the Dollars.”
Dollars.
The expressions on those in yellow around him slowly began to evolve.
Many of them believed that the slashing incidents were the work ofthe Dollars, and an equal number of them found the concept of a color gang without a color to be eerie and unsettling.
But for whatever reason, all of the Yellow Scarves who were actually hurt in the attacks only claimed that they “didn’t remember” what happened. For the Yellow Scarves, the police, and the media, the full picture of the slasher was still unclear.
Now that the slasher was in hiding, the news had moved on to newer topics, and the incident was beginning to fade from the public’s mind. But for those who had felt the madness of that incident at close range, those who knew some of the victims, the truth of the matter was carved into them just as deeply as those wounds the victims had suffered.
“I have no intention of forgiving whoever cut down my people,” Masaomi announced, his foot perched boldly up on top of a drum canister. He got down and strode through the meaningful glances of the crowd toward the exit, mumbling to himself.
It was a sentiment he had uttered over and over to himself since he had first returned to this place several days ago. As though he was trying to convince himself of something.
“Shit… How dare you suck me back in…”
“Who’s there?!” echoed a sudden shout of anger off the factory walls.
It could have been the bellow of the landowner come to see what was happening—but the shout came from the members of the group standing watch outside.
“What’s up?” Masaomi asked promptly and received an answer from one of the guards just as promptly.
“They said some girl was trying to spy on us… They’re chasing her now.”
“Girl?”
It was probably just some bystander passing by who peered in out of curiosity from all the commotion inside, Masaomi thought. But then he remembered that several members were guarding each entrance to the property, so that seemed unlikely.
“I want to talk to her. Catch her, make it quiet.”
The factory was not particularly large, but there was scrap materialand junked vehicles piled up outside the structure, which might make catching her difficult if she hid among the piles.
Masaomi headed outside to assist in the search, heard the bustle of his fellow members following behind him, and held up a hand. “We don’t need a big group. Just ten will do.”
If the entire gang ran around the property, they would surely draw notice. The last thing a big group like theirs needed was the loss of one of the few places they could meet in private because someone reported them to the police.
Masaomi knew that the authorities had stepped up their crackdown on the color
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