CHAPTER 1 Welcome to Snake Hands Late April, Sixtieth Floor Street, Ikebukuro “Snake Hands? What is that? Some kind of rip-off of Tokyu Hands?” Golden Week was rapidly approaching in Ikebukuro. In a fairly crowded restaurant in the evening, a teenager was discussing the latest rumors. They were the typical ones that any teenager would talk about, the sort of conversation you would completely forget about a few hours later. But then a strange name popped up. “Oh, you mean the guy they say is the boyfriend of the Headless Rider?” “Yeah, apparently he’s super messed up. Remember how there was that big fake group kidnapping a while back? Apparently, he was involved with that.” “Involved…like how?” “Dunno. The stories also say he wiped out a motorcycle gang or yakuza mob all on his own…” One person among the coed group paused and changed the course of the topic. “Fake kidnapping, motorcycle gangs? What are you talking about? That was all a setup by some crazed fan of the Headless Rider, wasn’t it?” “That doesn’t line up with what I know.” “It doesn’t? How so?” “From what I’ve heard, Snake Hands is just an odd jobs group in Ikebukuro.” “Odd jobs? What’s that?” The boys laughed; it didn’t seem to match their preconception of the Headless Rider in any way. “Oh, it’s like you can get to them from ads on some website somewhere. They do all kinds of stuff for people around Ikebukuro.” “Will they tidy up your room?” “No, it’s not like chores and errands. It’s more like…I dunno, moderating fights? Bodyguard services if you’re involved in something dangerous? That sort of thing.” “What sort of thing is that?” “Does that sound scary to you, too? Now, that’s something that sounds like it would get you involved with shady underbelly types,” said a girl, etching an invisible scar on her cheek. The first boy to bring it up said, “Like I said, it’s just a story. Nobody would actually go online and pay for help from some weird website, you know?” “I dunno—people will fall for anything.” “That’s hilarious.” “Anyway, did you buy the new Ruri Hijiribe song?” “Yeah, it’s so good.” “” “” And just like that, the rumor vanished, evolving into a different story. The students gradually finished their uneventful meal and got up to leave. But the boy sitting at a table nearby, Yahiro Mizuchi, could not get the name Snake Hands out of his head. “…” “What’s wrong, Yahiro?” asked a classmate sitting across from him, Himeka Tatsugami. That brought him back to his senses. Sitting next to him was a green-haired boy, Kuon Kotonami, who teased, “What’s up? Is sitting in the presence of girls making you uncharacteristically nervous?” “You think so? Was I nervous?” Yahiro asked. Kuon sighed. “Why would you take that question seriously? Look, Himeka’s fine because she’s used to how unsocial you are, but Akane’s clearly got no idea how to react to this.” He was looking across the table at Akane Awakusu, a girl wearing the uniform of a local middle school. “Oh, I’m fine,” she said, bowing. “I’m sorry.” Yahiro bowed back to her. “No, I’m sorry. If Kuon’s bringing it up, then I must be acting weird.” “No, it’s fine. It’s nothing. I’m sorry.” “No, it’s my bad.” Kuon watched the two bowing and apologizing to each other until he couldn’t take it anymore. “How long are you two gonna do that?!” “Oh, sorry, Kuon.” “I—I’m sorry about that…” “Stop! This conversation is over! The! End! No more apologizing!” Himeka, too, recognized that this shtick could go on forever, so she led the change in topic. “Anyway, I’m glad that your schoolmate came back safe and sound, Akane.” The girl agreed enthusiastically. “Yeah!” Akane’s schoolmate was an older girl who’d gone missing about two weeks ago, supposedly kidnapped by the Headless Rider. Once it was revealed that the kidnapping was fake, she soon came back safely. The incident got the news shows and Internet all abuzz for a day or two, but when nobody turned out to be dead and it was just a number of orchestrated runaways, the story went from being tantalizing to being characterized as a “misleading hoax to get a rise out of people.” The attention of the city turned to the street attacks next. “Amazing how things just get right back to normal,” Yahiro said. “The teacher really scolded her, and everyone else had stuff to say, too…but mostly, they’re acting like she just ditched school for a week…,” Akane said. “True… A faked kidnapping sounds dramatic, but to middle schoolers, it’s basically just ditching school, huh? It’s weird—for having involved so many sides, that story sure got wiped out fast by the street attacks,” Kuon said. “It’s better that way,” Yahiro noted. “I’m glad it didn’t turn into a much bigger controversy.” “Uh…I mean, I’m not saying I wanted it to be a controversy, ya know?” the green-haired boy protested, no doubt because Himeka was a family member of some of the people involved in the fakery. Akane’s schoolmate was Himeka’s younger sister. And Himeka’s older sister was centrally involved in the faked group kidnapping, too. Yahiro turned back to Himeka. “I’m glad it sounds like your big sister’s going to be out of the hospital soon.” “Yes… Apparently, they’ll make an exception to let her go back to work, too,” Himeka said. “Oh, I see,” Yahiro said. “Wait, really?” Kuon exclaimed. Himeka explained, “The magazine she works for wants to print a special issue about the event. So what better scoop than having an exclusive account from someone involved?” Yahiro tilted his head. “But won’t people assume that the magazine set up the whole thing to sell a story?” “She works for the kind of magazine that doesn’t care about that…” “Damn, that’s crazy,” marveled Kuon, twirling the straw in his cream soda. Meanwhile, Yahiro grinned happily. “Still, I’m happy for you. You get to be back with your sisters at home again.” “Hmm, I guess so.” The names of Himeka’s sisters hadn’t been reported in the media, so it didn’t seem like anyone was talking about her at school. Yahiro was relieved about that, but he was pleased about something else, too. “You seem happier than before, Himeka.” “…Do I really?” “Aren’t you?” “…I suppose I am.” Exhausted by this introverted excuse for a conversation, Kuon flailed his arms around dramatically. “What is wrong with you people?! I’ll repeat myself: What’s wrong with you?!” Without batting an eye, Himeka asked, “What’s the matter, Kotonami?” “Huh? Did I say something wrong?” Yahiro wondered aloud, self-conscious. Kuon scratched his head. “Ugh! Honestly! You both talk like robots! Seriously, you’re both teenagers bursting with vitality! Can’t you get into some spicier topics?!” “Are you forgetting there’s a younger girl listening in?” Himeka glanced at Akane. Akane didn’t seem to be bothered by Kuon’s suggestion; in fact, she was staring eagerly at Himeka and Yahiro, hoping they would continue. Feeling left out, Kuon frustratedly stirred the cream soda with his spoon and grumbled to Yahiro, “Say, when did you switch from calling her Tatsugami to Himeka? You makin’ a move? You are, aren’t you? Let me guess: You like her! What a dork!” He moved on from his childish rant by slurping down the melted mix of ice cream and soda through his straw. Yahiro answered him anyway. “I mean, if the options are like and don’t like, then of course I like her. Himeka’s really pretty, and she’s super nice.” “……” “……” Kuon stared at him, his cheek twitching. Akane had turned a deep, panicked red and was shooting glances at Himeka. As for Himeka, her expression did not change the tiniest bit. “I don’t hate you, either, but in terms of relationships, I’d say it’s not at that kind of stage, and it’s not something you should decide on the spot anyway.” Yahiro nodded immediately. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry for being weird.” “You don’t need to apologize for that.” A red-faced Akane listened to them with obvious confusion, while Kuon scowled bitterly. He repeated, “Ugh, what is wrong with you?! Once again, what’s wrong with you people?!” Once the furor died down and Kuon finished his cream soda, he made a big show about changing the topic. “Man, the world’s so violent these days, you know? Like I said, everyone’s talking about the street attacks. Now that it’s happened a few times, people are saying it’s the ‘return of the street slasher’ and everything.” “Street slasher…” “Oh, you don’t know, Yahiro? Like two years ago, there was this string of slashing incidents on the streets.” “I mean, I heard stories about it.” When doing research on Ikebukuro, he had spotted talk about the Night of the Ripper. Some people speculated that it had something to do with the street gangs at the time, like the Dollars and Yellow Scarves, but ultimately the string of events simply fizzled out without a conclusive answer on the culprit. “But the attacker they’re talking about on the news now uses a hammer, right? So it’s probably not the same person doing it again, I assume,” Yahiro said. “We don’t know that. Maybe the guy just felt like a change of weapons. I could imagine they got bored with all the blood and became obsessed with the physical sensation of bludgeoning instead,” Himeka said quite matter-of-factly for such violent content. Yahiro murmured and nodded. Once she was done with her salt-grilled mackerel meal, Himeka watched Yahiro chow down on his fluffy pancakes and said, “Well, the street attacker is one thing, but we’re dealing with someone even more violent, aren’t we?” “Huh? Who? The Headless Rider?” asked Yahiro, fork in hand. After a few moments of silence, Akane suddenly gasped with realization. “Y-you mean me? I’m sorry…” Of all people, Akane herself was most conscious of the fact that being the granddaughter of the Awakusu-kai chairman made her a very dangerous person to interact with, hence her apology. “No, I’m not talking about you, Akane. Sorry to make you feel bad,” Himeka apologized back. Then she clarified, “No…I was talking about you, Kotonami.” “Huh?! Me?!” Kuon exclaimed, feigning great shock. She asked, “What is Snake Hands?” “!” It was Yahiro who reacted. He stopped eating his pancakes and stared at the boy sitting next to him. Kuon looked up at the ceiling and whistled very unconvincingly. “Whatever do you mean? Are you talking about that guy the people at the other table were talking about? I’m thinking it’s probably a nickname for the boyfriend of the Headless Rider, the one from that recent kerfuffle.” “Don’t play stupid,” Himeka said flatly. She pulled out her smartphone and showed him the screen. Yahiro craned his neck to look at it, too. The screen displayed the following message. We’ll solve your Ikebukuro problems. Missing persons, revenge against bullies, personal protection: We do everything! Snake Hands, an Ikebukuro mutual aid group That was all that was written on the page. Nothing about actual job conditions, payment, or even a means of contact. There was nothing in there that would dissuade someone from assuming it was just a prank message. “What is that…? Seems like a weird web page,” Kuon said, laughing it off. But Himeka was determined. “It was linked through a hidden ad on one of the sites that Nozomi probably runs.” “So my sister’s playing a dumb prank.” “Speaking of pranks, having a page you have to do a bunch of stuff to unlock that contains ‘information about the Headless Rider’ is too far, in my opinion.” Kuon said nothing. Eventually, he gave up and exhaled. “Fine, fine. But that wasn’t set up in a way that you could just click on it to get to the right page.” “I happen to have a bit of talent for puzzles and treasure hunts.” “This is what Sis gets for talking too much…,” Kuon grumbled. Then he flipped a switch and continued, “Well, whatever. I was gonna tell you two about this at some point.” “…” “Tell us what?” Yahiro was more confused than Himeka, who was simply skeptical. Kuon gave his classmates a wicked grin and murmured, “My plan to make money.” “Make money?” Yahiro repeated. Now he, too, looked at Kuon skeptically. The other boy’s mouth curved upward, accentuating his expression. “Yeah. I created a club that solves problems in Ikebukuro and could earn us some good cash.” “And the name of the group is Snake Hands…your street alias, Yahiro.” Shinra’s apartment—near Kawagoe Highway “Snake Hands, Snake Hands… Snake…Hands…!” The words were chanted like some kind of curse in the spacious apartment. “Ugh! Man! What’s with this Snake Hands thing?! The more is not the merrier! Don’t they know the saying ‘The dose makes the poison’? Like, this is literally a case for ‘moderation in all things’! Exactly! Precisely! Literally!” Celty made an exasperated shrugging gesture and watched Shinra ranting and pouting like a child throwing a tantrum. “What’s the matter? Are you talking about Yahiro again?” “That’s right, Celty! You figured it out! Incredible, Celty—we are truly of one mind and spirit! Our hearts are connected! What’s yours is yours, and what’s mine is yours, except for one thing: Your heart is mine!” It took merely seconds for Shinra’s anger to do an about-face into a simpering smile. He grabbed Celty’s hand. She easily brushed him aside and glanced at the laptop he had open. It was displaying a message board thread discussing the Snake Hands rumors. “I hear the Headless Rider’s partner that people were talking about is known by the name Snake Hands.” “Yeah? Says who?” “You know, that motorcycle gang… Dragon Zombies.” “They’re probably making stuff up.” “But there’s no other nickname we have for ’em. You can’t keep saying the Headless Rider’s partner.” “Speaking of which, is the rider a guy or a girl?” “People say they’re a girl…which would make Snake Hands her boyfriend, I suppose.” “It’s terrible! It’s character assassination! I’m Celty’s boyfriend! And the rumors aren’t dying down; they’re spreading further! Guess I’ve got no choice but to log on to the Internet encyclopedia and add something to the Headless Rider page. ‘Celty lives with her boyfriend, Shinra Kishitani. The two lead a hot, steamy life together’…” “Citation needed!” “Ouch! Ouch!” Shinra yelped; he covered his head and rolled on the ground to defend himself against attack by a squeaky hammer made of shadow. Celty rushed over to him, seemingly alarmed. “Huh?! Whoops, I guess that was harder than I meant to make it… Sorry, are you all right?” “I’m all right, Celty. I love everything you give me, even pain!” Shinra said, perfectly recovered. He grabbed the shadow hammer. “Besides, I’m jealous of this Yahiro boy. He gets a hand-sewn outfit from you.” “Is hand sewn…the right word for it?” “Um, Celty.” “I’m not making one for you,” she said promptly, not waiting for him to ask. “Why not?!” “In your case, the first time I give in and allow you to have something, it leads to you asking me for everything.” “Hmm…can’t deny that,” Shinra admitted sadly. Celty sighed and said, “Listen, how about…we just wait until your next birthday?” She felt a bit embarrassed typing those words. Shinra’s mouth briefly hung open with shock. Then he exploded into joy. “Yesss! Thank you, Celty! Celty, thank you! I knew that day would come…and that knowledge alone is enough to keep me living on!” “You make such a big deal out of everything.” “My birthday is April second, so I’ve only got a bit more than eleven months to wait! Oh, boy!” Shinra raved, opening the calendar on his computer and typing in an event a year in the future. Celty felt relieved that his mood had recovered at least. At that moment, Celty’s cell phone—not the smartphone she used for conversation but the older flip phone for work—began to ring. “Oh, you’ve got a new message, Celty… Huh?” Shinra’s body tensed again the moment he saw the name of the sender on the phone’s external display. SNAKE HANDS The instant he saw those words, Shinra shouted, “Well, dammit! Speak of the devil—that’s the phrase for this! I can’t believe you even registered his contact information under that name! If you love pointless limbs on a snake so much, I’m going to have to inject myself with centipede DNA and mrbl-grhggh—” “It’s not what you’re thinking,” Celty typed, covering Shinra’s mouth with shadow. She picked up the cell phone with one hand and typed dexterously on the smartphone with the other. “This Snake Hands isn’t Yahiro.” “Huh?” She pressed the confirmation button on the flip phone to accept the message as she conversed with Shinra. “I told you, I’ve got a new side job. “Shinra, Snake Hands is the name of the client giving me the job.” The next day, Ikebukuro—private room of Pasela Karaoke “Okay, so you’re Yahiro!” “Awww, he’s so cute.” It was the first day of Golden Week in Ikebukuro. Yahiro walked into the room Kuon instructed him to visit and saw an unfamiliar man and woman inside. The man was narrow eyed and of mixed ethnicity while the woman had black hair and equally black fashion choices. The two of them seemed to be in their early twenties. They were seated in front of Kuon and spoke to him in a friendly manner from the moment he walked into the room. “Hiya, I’m Walker Yumasaki.” “And I’m Erika Karisawa. Nice to meet you.” “Uh, hello…I’m Yahiro Mizuchi,” he said, bowing politely, and sat down next to Kuon. “Um…do you know Kuon, then?” “Not really,” Kuon answered. “They’re more friends of Aoba’s, I guess. I’ve only had a few conversations with them on the street around town…” “And how is Aobacchi?” the woman named Karisawa asked. “Uh, the usual.” “Ah, cool. He was behaving himself recently after he caught Dotachin’s ire.” She cackled. “Dotachin?” Yahiro asked, unsure of what that meant. “Oh, just a personal joke. So what’s up with you and Kuocchi…er, you and Kuon?” Yumasaki asked. “We’re friends,” Yahiro said. “Best friends?” Karisawa asked. “I don’t know. He’s my first friend ever, so I wouldn’t know the difference,” he admitted without shame. Kuon just rolled his eyes. “Oooh, ahhh, hohhh,” Karisawa murmured, watching their reactions with great interest. “Your first friend ever. That’s very nice, very sweet. Big Sis loves that scenario. And the way you seem embarrassed about it is very cute, Kuocchi.” “Scenario?” Yahiro repeated, even more confused. Yumasaki nervously interjected, “Uh, you don’t have to bother figuring out what she means most of the time.” “Oh, sorry, sorry. Big Sis turned you boys 2D in her head.” “2D…?” Yahiro mumbled. “I’m serious, just ignore her,” Yumasaki insisted. It was at this point that the man named Yumasaki got to the matter that brought them together. “Anyway, the truth is, we found the Snake Hands site and tried to make contact, and to our surprise, Kuon here was one of their members.” “I’ll admit, I was startled when I saw your name in the mail in-box,” Kuon said, shrugging. Yahiro was wondering if this was another plot of some kind, but Kuon’s expression didn’t betray any of his usual bad acting, so Yahiro decided to take him at his word this time. “So the thing about their request is,” Kuon continued, “it’s a job that I could have handled alone or through an acquaintance normally, but this time it’s going to be trouble. I need more help.” “Why ask me? Aren’t you usually hanging around with Aoba and his gang anyway?” “It’s not just anyone that I need for this. I need someone with a particular set of skills,” Kuon said. He paused, then stared Yahiro right in the eyes. “Someone who is especially good at…fighting.” There was a brief silence. “Oh…mmbph!” “Down, Karisawa. Down. Down.” Yumasaki had clamped his hand over Karisawa’s mouth, just before she could say something to the two younger boys. Silence filled the room. Yahiro stared at Kuon with empty eyes, then exhaled and replied, “Sorry, Kuon. I’m not inclined to do that sort of thing as a job…” His apology was not sardonic or irritated. He sounded genuinely sorry that he couldn’t help. For his part, Kuon waved his hands and blurted out, “Wh-whoa, hold on! No, no, it’s not that! I’m not asking you to be a hit man or some kind of bruiser!” “You’re not?” asked Yahiro. “That’s right,” Yumasaki said. “Do we look like the kind of scumbags who would hire high schoolers to do a job like that?” “…No.” “Right?” Kuon said, holding up his palms. Yahiro bowed to his friend. “Okay. Sorry, Kuon. I had the wrong idea.” “…Uh, well…if you start apologizing too hard, it’s going to make the rest of this request a lot harder…” “?” “It’s not a job where you’re gonna go around beating people up…but depending on events, there’s a possibility you might get beat up…,” Kuon said cryptically. Karisawa clarified. “By the street attacker.” “Huh?” “We’re looking for the person attacking people on the street. We’d preferably like to find them before the police do, but we don’t have much help in that regard. So we found the ad on that Ikebukuro website called IkeNew!—you know it? And there was some fiddling to do, but we managed to get your contact info.” “We just didn’t think it would be someone we knew,” Yumasaki added. Karisawa nodded and looked at Yahiro. “But this is the street attacker we’re talking about. And we can’t put a child in danger, even if that child happens to be Kuocchi. But then he very confidently said, ‘Yahiro would be all right, though!’” “And that’s when Kuocchi told us all about how this kid who got caught on video fighting Shizu-Shizu? The one everyone’s been talking about? That it was you.” “…” “So we figured, Hey, maybe he’s a better choice than some random adult who doesn’t know what they’re doing. On the other hand, we’re still against getting kids involved, and Dotachin would be mad, we figured. That’s when Kuocchi pulled out the ace up his sleeve.” “Ace up his sleeve?” Yahiro repeated. Yumasaki laughed and said, “When we heard Celty was part of your group, that set us totally at ease.” “Celty?” Yahiro looked over to Kuon. Kuon just smirked and said, “Well, pretty much,” and looked away to avoid eye contact. “So, um…you two know Celty, then?” Yahiro asked. “We go over to Celcchi’s house now and then to hang out.” “Go over to her house…? Well, that makes it sound like you’re best friends!” “Why do I get the feeling that your definition of best friends has a very low bar to clear?!” Karisawa exclaimed. But she also put on a mysterious smile and muttered to herself, “That’s pretty hot, too, though.” Yumasaki sighed and continued, “Anyway, we could have asked Celty right from the start, but it is a dangerous job.” “It’s not something you can ask freely without guilt, like ‘take a video of them’ or something. Plus, I get the feeling that Celcchi would do it for free if I asked…and we didn’t want that to happen. But if we can ask her in the form of a job, that might work.” “Yes. Which is why we’re not asking you to take down the attacker. We just want you to help us gather stories from around town, to help get Celty closer to the right track. And at this point, we’re too old to have personal connections inside of high school networks anymore.” “That makes sense,” Yahiro said. Kuon sensed that this was his chance for persuasion. “See, it’s basically the same thing you did with the kidnappers earlier. It’s just that there’s a possibility the street attacker could spot you and go after you next, which is why you’d be perfect, since you’re such a good fighter.” “No, I’m not…” “Don’t be modest! Whatever you happen to think about yourself, the moment you held your own against Shizuo, everyone else came to the agreement that you’re a hell of a tough fighter! You gotta accept it, man! Plus, you don’t want this hooligan running around town committing violence without end, do you? What if me or Himeka get attacked at some point?” “That’s true,” Yahiro said, as simple as that. It was so easy, in fact, that it worried Kuon. “Uh…listen, I know I shouldn’t say this, since I’m the one who worked you up into saying yes, but are you sure you understand what I’m suggesting here?” “Yeah. I’ve made up my mind now. I think violence is the only thing I’m good for. So at the very least, I want to make sure I don’t use my talent the wrong way,” Yahiro said without shame or hesitation. “At this point, the only thing that I know is right is protecting my friends, like Himeka and you. So I can help you with this if it means catching the attacker.” “You never know—it could be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. What if targeting this freak causes them to attack me or her next? Wouldn’t that be putting the cart before the horse?” Kuon asked, rebuking Yahiro for not thinking it through. But he wasn’t ready for Yahiro’s counterattack. “If I said the same thing and refused the job, you’d still try to handle it and simply not tell me, wouldn’t you?” “……” Yahiro continued, “If you’re going to make an enemy out of the attacker one way or the other, I’d rather face it head-on than stay ignorant and get caught unawares… It’s less scary that way.” Kuon thought that was rather strange, and he couldn’t find anything to say in return. Yahiro turned to the other two and bowed his head. “I’d like to help, if you’re all right with that.” Karisawa smiled. “You don’t have to be so stuffy about it. We’ll pay you, too. This is a business deal, you see. You can discuss the details about that with Kuon. Ultimately, we’re paying you for information collection, so if you think it’s getting dangerous, disengage at once, okay? You might be tough, but leave the dangerous stuff to the adults. Don’t be stubborn about that, all right?” “Thank you,” Yahiro said, bowing yet again. Then a question crossed his mind. “But why are you two hunting for the attacker? Why not have the police handle it?” He wondered if maybe their relatives or friends had been among the victims thus far. But by way of an answer, Yumasaki pulled a stack of books out of his backpack and began to line them up on the table. Yahiro tilted his head. He realized he was staring at volumes of a manga series. Even he recognized the title: Owl of the Peeping Dead. However, it was more famous for its anime and live-action movie. “The most mainstream one is the anime, but lending you all the DVDs at once is too much, so we figured the manga would be the easiest way for you to get into it,” Yumasaki said, grinning. He offered the books to Kuon and Yahiro. “Before we can properly discuss this incident, we need you to research—with these!” Kuon stared in skepticism. Even he hadn’t been aware of the finer details of the situation. “Really? I mean, I know the attacker’s supposed to be cosplaying a character from this, but…” “If they’re dressing up to commit a crime, they’re not cosplaying! That’s an insult to the original story!” Yumasaki fumed abruptly. He grabbed the mic from the desk, turned it on, then bellowed into it so that his words filled the room. “It’s not OPD’s fault! OPD’s just fine!” Ten minutes later “But then, in the middle of the story, something unbelievable comes to light… We find out there’s a zombie who lost its conscious mind—and then regains it. And that’s completely shocking to our protagonist, the Owl. He thinks, All these zombies I’ve been killing? assuming they were forever gone. Maybe there’s a way to save them. Maybe the Zombie Protection Group was right, and they’re just sick and need to be cured…” “Um, thank you, Mr. Yumasaki, that was a really great description, but we’ll read the manga, we promise. You can stop there…,” Kuon insisted. “Aaaah! What have I done?! I’m so sorry! You were going to read the manga, and I just spoiled the whole thing for you…! I’m a failure of an otaku! I’ll carry this shame for life!” Yumasaki wailed. Yahiro tried to reassure him. “It’s all right. I already know how the story goes.” “Huh? Have you seen or read the series, Yahiro?” “No, I saw the live-action movie.” “Oh, the movie! That was done pretty well, too, I have to say! The whole project started as a fake zombie info site online before becoming an anime and manga, and then came the live-action! But from what I hear, the movie was in production before the anime, so it’s possible they envisioned the whole project based around the live-action first.” Karisawa’s eyes sparkled as she joined in. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure if it would work as live-action, but they really got into it!” “I agree. It was low budget and didn’t have much CG, but that just made Tenjin Zakuroya’s zombie effects that much more effective,” Yahiro said. “Wow, Yahiro! You know who Tenjin Zakuroya is? That’s impressive!” At last, the conversation was reaching the typical excitement found in a karaoke room. Kuon, feeling abruptly left behind, addressed Yahiro. “H-hey, you know about this Owl of the Something?” “I don’t know about the manga or anime…but I watched the movie back at home.” “You watch movies?” “Uh, yeah?” Yahiro said, feeling slightly insulted by the question. “I didn’t have any friends then, so about the only thing I would do at home was watch movies on my own.” “That’s too sad. You’re making me feel bad for asking.” “Really? You feel bad?” “Look, if you were one of those lonely people desperate for attention and said that in order to be, like, ‘Look at me—don’t you feel sorry for me?’ I’d just be, like, ‘Yeah, yeah, sure,’ and ignore you. But you talk like it was normal for you, like it’s an objective fact. I have no idea how to react to that! And I feel bad about being honest and saying I feel sorry for you!” This sudden outburst took Yahiro by surprise. “You feel sorry for me?” he asked, looking around uncertainly. Karisawa leaned forward and rubbed Yahiro’s head. “You’re fine, you’re fine. We feel sorry for you, but it’s cute. In a cute way.” “?!” He tensed up at the sudden touch of his head, like a cat whose tail had been grabbed. To keep the mood from getting any weirder, Yumasaki stepped in and said, “Anyway, that’s the thing! That’s the thing! I hate this attacker! An old fellow independent artist friend of mine is one of the people in WWW, and I know these attacks have really been hurting them!” “Ah, I see.” If one of his friends was suffering as a result, that certainly would go a long way to explaining Yumasaki’s rage, Yahiro decided. But he did have a question. “Um…if Celty does catch the culprit, what’s going to happen to them after that?” Yumasaki and Karisawa replied to this very natural question by sharing a look, then beaming. “We just want to talk to whoever’s doing it.” “Yes, very politely,” Erika noted. “And we want to ask why they would do something that harms the reputation of anime and its fans… That’s all. It’s really that simple.” “Exactly, we just want to talk. Nice and slowly. Physically speaking.” Yahiro’s cowardly instincts sensed a terrible, horrible pressure behind their smiles. He decided that it was not worth asking them for more details. One hour later—the hallway of the karaoke establishment Once they were done talking business, Karisawa and Yumasaki began what they called a Get-to-Know-You Gala, which was actually an anime theme song marathon. Yahiro hardly recognized a single one of them, but he was happy that they responded well to the movie theme he requested, and he came away from his first karaoke experience feeling fairly satisfied. It had been nerve-racking, singing a song he liked in front of other people for the first time—but when he left to look for the bathroom, he ran into Kuon in the hallway, who was on a call. “…Yeah. Anyway, I’ll call you later, Sis.” He hung up, then shrugged at Yahiro. Then he put on a cocky smile and said snottily, “You angry?” “About what?” “Huh…? About me.” “?” Yahiro was honestly confused. Had Kuon done something meant to make him angry? Maybe there was something that people in Tokyo would’ve been angry about. In that case, it was important that he figure out what it was so he didn’t accidentally do it to someone else. When Kuon noticed him thinking hard, he snapped, “I did tons of stuff you should be mad about. Why don’t you get that?” “Get what?” “…Don’t you get that I’m using you?” Kuon said, then clicked his tongue at himself for being so direct. He started ripping into Yahiro instead. “I told those two that you were the guy fighting Shizuo Heiwajima on video. I told them you were a good fighter and involved you in something dangerous. I’m using you as bait for my own gain. Don’t you get that? Besides, you must’ve heard from my sister that I only approached you from the start because I wanted to use you!” “Yeah.” “Yeah…? That’s it…?” “But is that really something to be mad about?” Kuon was unable to think of anything to say to that. The only sound in the hallway was faint singing coming from the soundproofed private rooms. With furrowed brows, Kuon eventually asked, “So…when do you get mad?” It had been such a shockingly in-character answer from Yahiro that Kuon’s irritation simply vanished, replaced by pure bewilderment. As Yahiro thought that over, his expression darkened. “Hmm… Well, there was the time someone tried to run me over with a dump truck and then got mad when they failed, so they tried to burn down my house… Also, I’m mad when people go after my mom and dad instead of me… I got really mad those times.” “…Uh, yeah, when you bring out crazy examples like that, it doesn’t exactly help answer my question.” Kuon sighed heavily. “Listen, don’t you worry about me doing the same things those people did? Don’t you ever imagine me doing something crazy like using not just you but your family and Himeka, dragging them into something really dangerous?” “That would suck.” “Then you get mad before things get that serious! You can tell the difference between good and bad, right? It should be obvious to you that I’m a bad guy!” But despite Kuon’s insistence that he should be labeled an evildoer, Yahiro’s response was blunt. “Kuon, I happen to think that people’s natures can’t be labeled so simply as ‘good’ or ‘bad.’ At the very least, a person’s nature isn’t something so easily understood.” “……” “I get blatantly evil people, like serial killers or those people attacking others on the street. But I don’t think I could label you and Himeka as good or bad for anything short of those extreme examples. The thing is, I know that the stuff I’ve done is just as awful as the stuff the attacker’s doing. So I can’t point the finger and describe others that way. I don’t have the right.” He sounded sad and clenched his fists. Yahiro told his friend, “So if you think you’re evil, and you want me to stop you by force…” He paused. Yahiro considered his own case and repeated what he knew as it passed through his mind. “I don’t think I would pick up on that, so I’d want you to tell me. I don’t think I could make that decision on my own. Instead, I can keep myself ready to hit you at any moment.” It was as honest and plain as he could possibly be. “That’s a crazy request to put on someone’s shoulders,” Kuon said. “Sorry.” “Why do you just…trust people like that? Especially after you’ve thought so hard about it.” Kuon clenched his jaw. Frustration entered his voice again. “I hate that about you.” “Sorry. I’ll try to work on that.” “Don’t gimme that. Besides, I’m not saying you’re wrong.” Kuon clicked his tongue again. He started walking away, done with the conversation. As he passed, Yahiro gave him a faint smile. “You’re right… Thanks for worrying about me.” “…!” Kuon spun back, grimacing, but Yahiro was already on his way as well, rounding the corner to the bathroom. Kuon put a hand on the wall and clicked his tongue yet again, quite loud this time. “Dammit. He really throws me off my game…” Envisioning the face of the man he both hated and aspired to be, he scowled. “If he were a real scumbag like Izaya Orihara, I could use him and abuse him guilt-free…” Ikebukuro—night “Well, Mr. Horada, so long!” “A’ight.” The man split off from his younger companions and headed home alone. Horada was once a principal member of the Blue Squares and had even taken over the Yellow Scarves earlier. He was a hallowed figure in the history of street gangs—or so he liked to tell himself. In truth, he was merely a small-time thug who happened to ride the waves at the right time and place, but his exploits were indeed legends of a sort, and his name was fairly well-known among people in his part of society. However, Horada understood that color-repping street gangs were disappearing from Tokyo. A number of them had reverted to an older form of delinquency, the classic bosozoku motorcycle gang, while others shifted into a different kind of mob, the gurentai young ruffians. Horada had been in prison meanwhile, left behind by the changing of the times. Now he was left to scheme about how his glory days might once again return. There were former followers who still admired him, but he had many old enemies who hated his guts. In order to climb to the top in Ikebukuro, he needed absolute power. With that in mind, he recalled one such strength that seemed within reach. Man, ever since then, I haven’t found the right moment to get an in with that Yahiro Mizuchi guy. I really gotta let him know I was the one who found the kidnappers’ hideout and make him feel grateful to me… During the recent case of mass kidnappings, which turned out to be false, Horada managed to find the hideout of those who abducted Himeka Tatsugami, albeit almost entirely by coincidence. After making its way to the younger guys in the Blue Squares, the information had somehow made it to Yahiro Mizuchi himself, and the whole incident had resolved itself safely. That meant he’d earned himself a favor, but if he tried to call that in too eagerly, he might get that debt repaid in a single act. He’d never manage to lure the guy into his stable of perpetual companions. I shouldn’t force the issue. I just gotta imprint on his mind that I’m the guy who helped him… But on the other hand, I dunno if spreading the story around is smart, either… Kinda seemed like there were Awakusu-kai and Dragon Zombie guys at the scene, too. Don’t need them coming after me in revenge… He allowed himself a little shiver and turned his attention to a vending machine at the end of the alley. Hey, I’m feelin’ a bit thirsty. Could go for a coffee. He stopped in front of the machine and bought himself a can of unsweetened coffee with creamer. The can clunked as it fell down into the pickup port. It was just an ordinary vending machine. Horada reached for the opening, just like he always would. But then he noticed something was wrong. “…Huh?” It was like a shadow in the corner of his vision had moved. He turned his head to the left. Someone was standing there, wearing a suit of black pajamas. “Whaaa—?!” he yelped involuntarily, startled by the stranger suddenly right next to the vending machine with him. But his alarm turned to irritation as he realized it was just regular clothes in a kigurumi onesie style. “What the hell’s your problem? Dressed like a freak! Fuck off—I’ll kill you!” It wasn’t the most creative threat, but harassing people and grabbing their shirts was something Horada was used to doing—except that this time, he stopped when he saw the figure lift a narrow object wrapped in a white cloth. He recognized it immediately. Based on the shape, it was a hammer wrapped in bandages. As he came to that realization, the bandaged hammer swung downward violently. “Whuaaah?!” he screamed, toppling sideways and just barely evading the blow. “Wh-wha…what the fuck?! Do you know who I am?! Which gang are you with?! Huh?!” Horada had no interest in the news, whether on TV or on paper, so it never occurred to him that this might actually be the street attacker. “Some weird-ass clothes you’ve got…” But even he could clearly see that the person facing him meant him harm. He jumped to his feet as the person clad in the black onesie swung the hammer. “Don’t mess with me!” He hurled the unopened can of coffee at the enemy. “—!” The person in the onesie pajamas blocked the can by holding both hands over their stomach. That was enough time for Horada to close the gap. Quicker than they could lift the hammer again, Horada punched the hooded head as hard as he could. The mysterious attacker flew backward and toppled to the ground in front of the vending machine. “Moron… You thought some little freak like you could take out the Horada?! Huh?!” Horada roared, approaching with the intent to kick his attacker in the face and finish them off for good. “Guh?!” Something struck him, and the upper half of his vision went dark. He stumbled and turned to see another figure wearing the same kigurumi pajamas… “Gangin’ up…on a guy… Cowardly…piesh…a…shit…” Just before he lost consciousness, slurring his words, Horada saw a bandage-wrapped hammer hurtling down at him. Part of the white fabric was dyed red with his own blood. The next morning “There has been an update in the ongoing series of street attacks: a new victim. “The latest to fall prey to the attacker is a twenty-two-year-old unemployed resident of Tokyo by the name of…”
Chapter 38
36 min read