Read Online Durarara!!, Vol. 3 (Novel) by Ryohgo Narita - Free Book Online Page A

gangs in recent years. He wanted to protect their space at all costs. They had been hanging here since the days when he was their full-time leader. Something about the space, something distinct from say, a nightclub, reminded him of the vibes of his hometown. He didn’t want to lose the space if he could help it.
    Not that it’s up to me. I don’t own the building
, Masaomi thought wryly to himself.
It’s funny…after I already gave up the place once.
    The sun was already down, and without many streetlights in the vicinity, the factory grounds were surprisingly dark. It seemed to Masaomi that she could easily get away under these circumstances. He tried to imagine the intruder.
    They said it was a woman—probably a curious tabloid writer. If she was an official of some kind, she would have just marched right through the entrance.
    It could be someone from an opposing color gang, but there were few of those around these days, and Masaomi’s team did not beef with any of them.
    Except for the Dollars.
    The Dollars were a unique organization that expanded its reach through the Internet. Masaomi himself had registered on their site for kicks ages ago.
    About a year ago, he heard that they were having their first real-life meeting. Masaomi did not attend. He assumed that by gathering as a group and using that power, they would be no different from the Yellow Scarves.
    Then again, if I had really dug deep into the Dollars and become an officer…maybe I could have prevented this from happening.
    It was with that thought in mind that Masaomi started walking the opposite direction as the one the lookouts had run. The lot was small enough that it would be faster to circle around from the other side.
    Suddenly, he got a subtle sensation of something moving. Masaomi was once again plunged into a vague sense of unease.
    No, not quite.
    The unease…has always been there.
    Masaomi quickened his pace, trying to process the swirling, bubbling emotions within him.
    The first time I felt it was when people started to gather around me, when all I did was fight.
    He took step after step through the darkness, classifying the emotion that had plagued him from past to present. The usual smirking grin on Masaomi’s face was completely gone. Only the unease grew.
    The vague unease I’d forgotten came back to my mind when I first met Saki.
    The gloom of the sky covered his heart like a suffocating blanket, fanning the flames of his smoldering concerns.
    And when I met Izaya after that, the vagueness of that unease turned into rock-hard anxiety.
    The farther he got from the entrance to the building, the thicker the darkness became, until he could no longer see his feet.
    But Saki…helped me forget that dread.
    As his pace increased, Masaomi’s state of mind gradually shook more and more violently.
    And when the accident happened…I broke away from Saki…and left the Yellow Scarves…
    The past flashed before his eyes. His pulse quickened by the moment.
    That should have been the end of the dread.
    Thump, thump.
His heart thudded.
    I can’t forgive…whoever attacked Anri and the guys who used to be my friends…
    His feet hit the ground faster and faster, matching that rhythm.
    That’s why I came back. It’s the only reason.
    He suddenly realized that large raindrops were falling.
    So…why is it happening now?
    As the rhythm of the rain picked up to join him, it churned up Masaomi’s unease into a thicker froth.
    Why is the anxiety rushing back stronger than it ever did before?
    He felt as though he was in reach of the nature of that unease.
    Masaomi realized that he was in a full sprint around the back of the factory.

    Run.
    Run, run, run.
    Just run.
    Not to a specific destination, but to escape from the chasing shadows.
    Spurring legs onward in danger of cramps—forward, ever forward.
    She only wanted to know.
    The truth.
    The truth of a matter that involved her.
    The cost of that truth was the scampering of a mouse on the run