Durarara!!, Vol. 4 (novel) (16 page)
In the darkness
Everything in one’s life could be compared to a story, such as a movie, or a TV show, or a novel, or a fairy tale.
In the blind darkness, she wondered what kind of B movie her life was.
When did it start?
Time itself seemed to twist and stretch. It was all she could do to keep her wits intact as she swam through a sea of vague memory.
Oh, that’s right. It was in my childhood. What I always looked up to as a child.
Giant beasts on the television screen, running and flailing about as they toppled high-rise buildings and the Tokyo Tower.
They weren’t exactly “animals,” more like a cross between people, insects, and something that did not exist in our world. Monsters designed to inspire fear and disgust that rampaged at will, without humility or excuses.
She felt a kind of adoration of these movie monsters, the
kaiju
.
At the time, she was too young to be able to describe what drew her to those creatures with words. But now, she could.
In her innocent youth, she understood that she
could never be like them
.
Obviously, no one could be a giant monster that stood hundreds of feet tall. It wasn’t in that sense.
She wanted to be something that was unfettered by anything, doing as it pleased, without regard for anyone else’s opinion. Even if the result of that was destruction.
Unconsciously, she came to a realization—that she could never live outside of the law, and even on the straight and narrow path, she could not expose who she really was.
Her family was one of the richest in an already-wealthy neighborhood.
It was a “distinguished line,” whatever that meant. All it amounted to was that she had to wear the mask of family and continue the act of her bloodline. Her parents, extended family, and others never explicitly said this to her, but the expectation and the atmosphere that existed before she was even born placed a powerful pressure on her instincts.
They weren’t the kind of distinguished line that had political or financial connections or the ability to bend society to their will. They were just a family that happened to have earned a bunch of money at some point a few generations in the past.
It was probably this tenuous connection to dignity that caused them to be so dedicated to the pursuit of “distinguished” behavior—it was the only way they could maintain that dignity.
And now, the estate was gone.
Her grandfather’s business failed, and her father got burned in the futures market trying to make up for that loss. They went bankrupt.
Her mother left the family, and her current whereabouts were unknown.
The house burned for some reason.
Several relatives with hefty debts hung themselves.
Some relatives without hefty debts hung themselves, too.
With hindsight, she could see that it wasn’t the debt that was crushing to them; it was the loss of that pride and honor, the only thing they could rely upon. A true distinguished family would maintain their dignity
even if they lost everything, but the nouveau riche couldn’t protect or discard their pride, and the only thing left in between was despair.
As one of the few survivors, she mourned the loss of her family.
But she also gained freedom at last.
After many twists and turns being raised by distant relatives, she finally found what she wanted to do. It involved those movie
kaiju
that she admired so much as a child.
It wasn’t just her respect of
kaiju
, but of horror movie killers like Jason and Freddy, emotionless creatures like the Xenomorph, and all other bringers of destruction and murder that transcended both the flesh and society of humanity that led her to enroll as an apprentice makeup artist as soon as she graduated middle school.
Now she could create the monsters she had admired so much with her own hands.
And they’ll do what I couldn’t…
It was at this point in her reflection on her past that she finally realized what she was doing.
Oh. This is my life, flashing before my eyes.
The serial killer Hollywood, her body flying through the air after it was pummeled by a park bench, could sense her own life’s imminent end.
In the midst of that extremely compressed period of time, she shut her eyes.
How had she turned into a killer?
The flashback of her life didn’t need that part.
It was a part of her past she didn’t want to remember.
Still, I’m satisfied.
At the end, at the very end…I finally met a real monster.
Not a fake like me, but a true, true “monster” with monster strength.
And with the second great impact of the last few seconds, her flashback vanished, sending what remained of her wits into darkness.
At that moment
Kasuka Heiwajima, better known as Yuuhei Hanejima, was passing by, out of either coincidence or fate.
On the way home from his interview in Ikebukuro, he nimbly drove his beloved Le-Seyde through the night streets, right under the speed limit. The interview had contained several questions about his brother, so he decided to stop by and say hello, cruising the streets looking for the familiar bartender uniform that he had given Shizuo as a gift.
When this predictably didn’t work, he began to wonder if he should call, or send a text, or if it was even necessary to see him at all—when his car lights caught sight of something odd down a narrow alley.
“…”
It was the twisted sight of a human figure falling from the sky, an eyeball popped out of its socket.
The thing crashed to the asphalt and twitched once, then lay still and inert. Only the silhouette could be described as “human”; in the headlights, the skin was green and covered in crawling insects, the very figure of a zombie from a movie or video game.
Most human beings would scream at this point. But Yuuhei calmly pulled the car over to the shoulder and got out to check if the figure was living or just a mannequin.
The green skin gleamed wet and sticky in the light. There was no blood, but the figure was deadly still, clearly suffering serious medical effects.
Yuuhei considered that it could be a lifelike figure rather than a human being, but the momentary twitching earlier seemed to rule that out. It was an abnormal situation to say the least, but Yuuhei did not show a single sign of panic.
People falling out of the sky was a normal sight to Yuuhei. Usually because his brother had punched them there.
As he got out his phone to call an ambulance, Yuuhei considered another possibility.
The serial killer Hollywood.
Recalling the stories of the murderous maniac who appeared in the form of various monsters, Yuuhei began to wonder if the half-dead, half-living thing on the ground was this very person.
That didn’t change his course of action, however. He took a bold step forward, then noticed that the zombie’s face seemed to be peeling off.
“…”
The effect was so lifelike, it looked like nothing other than rotting skin. But beneath it, Yuuhei noticed a different color—not the red of muscle or blood, but pale, ordinary skin.
An ordinary person would likely have been too panicked by the sight to calmly notice such a detail, but this young man was not ordinary. He silently reached out for the mask.
When he saw the face that emerged from beneath it, Yuuhei stopped to think.
It was only for a few seconds, during which the young man’s handsome face showed no emotion, only an eerie mechanical interest, like a cleaning robot that found a piece of dirt.
Eventually, Yuuhei lifted the mysterious zombie-costumed person into his arms and toward the passenger-side door of his car. He carefully opened the door and sat the monster into the seat.
He then returned to the driver’s seat, called someone on his phone, and when he was done, quietly resumed driving away.
In the darkness
Oddly, I could tell that I was dreaming.
How had it begun?
Why did I become a murderer?
I should never have
possibly
become a monster, so how did it happen?
It’s what I always wanted, so why do I feel so sick?
I wanted to vomit.
I always wanted to vomit after I killed them.
But I knew that what was truly sickening was myself for being a killer.
Even as I committed the deeds, I asked myself what I was doing.
What a disgusting person I am, feeling sick at my own actions out of regret and guilt.
And even as I did it, I couldn’t stop the feeling of nausea from creeping up on my backbone.
No, no, it’s not right.
A monster doesn’t regret.
A monster doesn’t feel sick.
A monster isn’t plagued by guilt.
Some monsters in the movies were like that.
But they aren’t the real monsters.
They are lovable human beings. Or not human—but humanlike.
If they could share sentiments with human beings, then somewhere, somewhere, they were meant to be loved. No matter how they look.
But I am not.
I can’t be like that.
I can’t be loved by anyone.
I will be a monster.
A monster that no one can fathom.
And only then can I get back at them…
No, wrong.
Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!
There’s one left! Just one! And yet…
One, one, one, him, he is coming
It’s him It’s him kill kill must kill him kill him
kill him them no him kill
kill kill no must kill or be killed vomit he’s coming don’t come
stay away stay away stay away stay away no no no don’t don’t do n’t
don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t don’t don’t
“This is a surprise. She heals almost as fast as Celty and your brother.”
Nooo! Who him no him? No!
No then who ggh hyaaaaa! going to , die ah
different voice no monster
“Amazing. Maybe Celty’s pulling her closer. What do you think?”
Not him whose voice here where is he is he
must kill someone I’ll die yeeek! aaaah!
“At first the syringe wouldn’t even pierce the skin. Then again, Shizuo broke my scalpel. I mean, that’s incredible. There’s no blade more solid and flexible than a scalpel. And he broke it… It felt like I was scraping against a metal washing board or something.”
Who answer who
where he where
Just one more to go can’t end yet hyaa!
“In fact, this isn’t far off… It’s kind of hard to believe it’d be a girl like this. Such a beauty in the prime of her youth.”
Answer answer answer
Can’t end here no no I don’t want
Help Mother where are you
Help me
Help
