Durarara!!, Vol. 4 (novel) by Ryohgo Narita Page B

looked at each other happily, whatever their “bingo” was. Based on the lip piercings and crooked teeth black from nicotine, they did not appear to be pacifists. Mikado was a believer in not judging a book by its cover, but in this one situation, he felt confident that these books were exactly what their covers suggested.
    As Aoba and Anri watched in stunned confusion, the men leered gleefully and leaned in toward Mikado, their faces reeking of cigarette smoke.
    “Hey. You were there, right? You were there recently?”
    “Th-there…? Where?”
    “You were there, ya know? You were at that junked factory with the Black Rider that one time that Kadota’s group kicked the shit outta us. Yeah?”
    “Did you get a little sloppy today, just ’cuz we weren’t wearin’ yellow?”
    “…!”
    The mention of the word
yellow
plunged Mikado’s mind into chaos.
    “…You must be…”
    The remnants of the Yellow Scarves?!
    But these were not the proper Yellow Scarves that Masaomi had gathered to his side. They were the leftovers of a gang called the Blue Squares who had infiltrated the Yellow Scarves in a takeover attempt. They were ultimately crushed by a different infiltration team led by Kadota.
    “Well, whatever. We don’t care why you were there when it happened.”
    “It’s just, we want the ten million yen, ya know?”
    Ten million yen.
    That was the last piece of the puzzle to click into place. They weren’t coming after Mikado to enact revenge against a member of the Dollars…
    “You know where that Black Rider is, don’cha? Huh?!”
    “Let’s go. You can donate your cell to our cause, huh? Got the phone number right in there, I bet.”
    They crudely grabbed at his bag, yanking it open to pore over the contents.
    “Wait…stop that!”
    “Shuddup!”
    Mikado tried to resist, but he was hopelessly outsized and didn’thave the combat training to make up for it. Just when he was afraid that the six-foot-tall giants would steal his cell phone—
    “Hiii, Mikah-do.”
    A shadow loomed behind the men, a head taller than even they were.
    “?!”
    “Wh-what the…fu…uh…?”
    It was an enormous black man in a white T-shirt. For an instant, Mikado wasn’t sure who it was, either, but he recognized the man within moments. The lack of the sushi-chef outfit was what threw him off, but in fact, the man was quite a recognizable figure in the area.
    “Simon!”
    “What wrong? Fight is no good. You get hungrily-hungrily. Our sushi shop closed today. So you fight, you starve.”
    “H-hey! Leggo…”
    “C-can’t move…”
    He was only holding the shoulders of the two men, but they struggled as if they were trapped at the bottom of the ocean. They couldn’t even budge their own fingers.
    Despite the incredible pressure he was exerting on them, Simon’s expression was as cool as a cucumber. “You pick up bag. Leave these ruffians to me and run to safe-tee,” he said in the style of some kind of samurai movie, his pronunciation as awkward and endearing as ever.
    It was the kind of line that usually signaled an imminent death, but in this case, that fate was more likely for his hapless victims.
    “B-but Simon…”
    “You no fight when girl around. Run to
Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji
, go, go, go.”
    “Th-thank you! We’ll all come have sushi soon!”
    “Ohh, very good. In thanks, I charge you only ten percent interest on market price.”
    It probably came out more intimidating than what Simon meant to say. Meanwhile, Mikado picked up his bag, grabbed Aoba and Anri, and raced off.
    As they ran through the streets of Ikebukuro, Mikado bowed to Anri and his schoolmate.
    “S-sorry! I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into that nonsense!”
    “Um, dragged into? You were the only one who suffered any consequences,” Aoba noted. Mikado found that he was right, but he couldn’t help but feel ashamed and embarrassed that they’d been put through that frightening experience anyway.
    It was his first