PROLOGUE A
The Ruffians

“Damned monster.”

There was a boy who had, until graduation from middle school, been called this countless times.

As a well-hidden hot spring it was popular and received visitors throughout the year, but in the face of a declining population, it was a shrinking community.

‘Perhaps’—for this information was uncertain.

Thereafter, taken in by the old woman who owned the inn, this infant was adopted by the owner’s daughter and her husband; and blessed with the same degree of love as any other child, and an environment twice as wealthy, grew quickly.

It was a commonplace situation: there appeared ones who were jealous of this boy, that despite the lack of blood relation was raised by these powerful figures of the village; and they sought to hurt him both mentally and physically.
But as a result, the village came to know of the abnormalcy of this boy.

When the boy had just entered elementary school, his seniors picked a fight with him.

Back then he had not yet known he was adopted, and not understanding what they were saying of him, he had merely tilted his head in confusion.

The senior punched the new student and grabbed his collar as he staggered; anyone would have guessed it would turn out as a one-sided bullying incident.

But the winner was opposite to what anyone had expected.

That was the first time he displayed his ‘ability’.

It was not that he had a body of steel, and there was no way he could have any kind of monstrous, vending machine-lifting strength.

The same way some carnivores can, by instinct alone, sense the whereabouts of their prey.

He grabbed the senior’s ear, and wrenched it downward.

Of course, it was not a conscious decision.

Although it was, indeed, odd for a child who had just entered elementary school to think such things.

And if one were to give an example of a personality trait of this boy—

It could probably be summarised by this word alone.

That was all there was to it.

As a result it could be said that by the combination of this cowardice and his ‘ability’, a ‘monster’ was born.

He had to push the fear away from himself.

Following his instincts, the boy continued to kick the crouching senior.

Using the tip of his foot, crushing even the senior’s fingers covering his face.

Again, and again
unstoppingly.

With that incident as a starting point, the boy became feared by all around him.

Though in a sense there was no twist at all; for perhaps it could be said that he was simply obeying his instincts, walking forward on a straight path.

Despite the declining population of the village, other than the senior who the boy had severely injured, there were many problematic children.

Or so one would be led to think, but—

Although the eye itself was not gouged out, at the sight of their friend screaming with blood dripping out his eye, for a moment, the seniors gulped in fear.

At this horrendous scene, they thought one thing in unison:

It was a child more than one head shorter than themselves, who had not even hit puberty.

If they were to recollect themselves and attack the child in a group there would be a significant chance of success.

The first one to attack him next met with the same fate.
As they saw their friend having his teeth knocked out and broken with a stone, their legs were frozen.

As would be expected it was eventually regarded as a case of excessive self-defence, but as he was only six years old, after police involvement he was sent to the juvenile counselling centre.

The reason was exceedingly simple.

Their memory of their past trauma embellished in their minds, rumours of the boy spread as such: ‘At six years old he tore someone’s ear off, was completely unafraid even against ten people, and broke a whole set of ribs with a stone—a prodigiously strong child.’

That just as the exaggerated rumours would imply, the boy had grown up, ominously enough.

‘Fucking monster.’

Those were the words said by one who had been injured half to death by the boy, who had just entered middle school.

—Monster.

To avenge their friends.

Ruffians, each confident in their own strength, arrived one after another from the surrounding regions.

The boy was only ever afraid.

The boy began to train his body.

Even in this period the rumours continued to spread, to the point where even challengers from other prefectures appeared.

With that, ‘experience’ and ‘diligence’ were built on his natural ‘ability’.

Nothing made sense.

In the third year of middle school, when the boy turned fifteen, he gave up on everything.

While he felt gratitude to the parents that had raised him, he no longer looked forward to anything the world could offer.

After all, when it came down to it, that was how the world was; how life was.

It was not that he had been made to suffer more than he should.

But still eyes that looked upon him only held an unreasonable amount of hatred and fear.

He could only feel that he, who was so called a monster, was impinging on this family of decent people.

Thinking all along that this could continue for the remainder of his life.
At this juncture, the boy met a turning point.

On a day nearing the end of summer, a tourist from Tokyo came to the village.

The guest, staying at the number one hot spring inn in the village, happened to witness a fight between the boy and some delinquents.
The guest gazed curiously at the horrible fight, and immediately after, smiled as he said to the boy:

“It’s nice for kids to have so much energy.”

The boy’s face was shocked.

To the boy who stood in the centre of the fallen, bloody delinquents, the traveller continued.

To this man, who seemed to have no trace of morals, the boy spoke.

And then the tourist replied.

With a gentle smile, the man continued to speak.
“It’s true you seem to be good at fighting, but doesn’t that just make you a human who can fight well…? There are people more inhuman than you in the world, and even supernatural creatures exist, after all.”

The boy was shocked at the tourist who spoke these strange things.

The boy felt himself a strong waver at being called ‘human’ in his current situation.

As the tourist stood to leave, unthinkingly, the boy asked.

And the tourist, with a bright smile, replied.

‘Ikebukuro.’

The boy had heard of this place.

Interested, the boy, with the web function on his barely-used smartphone, began to research ‘Ikebukuro’.

Time passed as the boy grasped at this information.

The Headless Rider.

The Slasher.

He felt his heart pounding, loudly.

The boy, who had spent his days fighting in and out, through the small screen of the smartphone, saw the world.

The ‘cowardice’ that had rendered the boy a monster had eased to a certain extent as he grew, but even so, it had not disappeared.

The man who threw vending machines was scary.

Hundreds-strong gangs were, inevitably, scary.

His curiosity surpassed his fear.

He should have thought to avoid Ikebukuro at all costs.

—To live and die as a monster, like this—

Eventually, the information from that tiny screen grew insufficient—

Although he had only ever taken up fights from those who provoked him first, it was a fact that his fights had troubled the family greatly.

Perhaps it was his guilt from those issues, or perhaps it was his gratitude towards his family for never having abandoned him in spite of that; up till then the boy had never made a single selfish request of his parents.

And this boy, for the first time since he fought in elementary school—made a request for the first time.

I want to enter a school in Tokyo—in Ikebukuro.

His parents hesitated at this sudden request.

“Come, sit.”

“You’re a timid child, but… You’ve grown while we weren’t looking, haven’t you?”

In the end, afterwards, with his grandmother’s final say, the boy’s request was accepted.

And so the boy who was called a monster came to Ikebukuro.

To meet the true ‘monsters’ he knew not of yet.

The boy’s name was Mizuchi Yahiro.

Who would the cowardly monster meet in the city of Ikebukuro?

No one knew this, but the only certain thing was that—
The city itself would not reject any kind of person that came.

One and a half years past the end of the Dollars:
Ikebukuro now welcomes a new wind.

****CHAPTER END****

PROLOGUE

B   The Eccentric

A city, so long as people reside in it, changes often.

But the city and its people are, after all, one heart and body.

Whether that change is growth or decay, or something entirely different – in the end, the result of that change varies between individuals.

“We’re full-fledged third-years already; Kuru-nee, have you thought of your career?”

“…Yes…”

“Wow~. Kuru-nee, you’re so serious~. I was thinking if I should just be a NEET. Kuru-nee, go out and work and feed me~”

“…No…”

The younger Orihara Mairu had spectacles and long hair in braids, and was dressed like a quiet top student, but had a lively, active personality and was one to put action before words.

This fashion was neither natural nor acquired.

To decide who would live how.

It might have been nothing more than a childish fantasy, but it was how they had grown to be.

The twins’ eccentric presence was to some extent well-known in the city.

“But we’re third-years already, huh~. Time flies~. Just a while ago it felt like we were just first-years, and now we’re already third-years, imagine. It felt like just three months.”

“…time…”

Mairu shook her head as she said this, her braids swinging as she looked around the street.

Mairu stopped there. She had spotted the face of an acquaintance at the entrance to the game centre linked to the cinema.

“Ow — ”

“Oh, Mairu. …what was that greeting for?”

“Cause see, Aocchi, we haven’t seen you for so long, so~ it was like you went off to do something dangerous and died.”

Pinching Aoba’s cheek, Mairu continued.

“…Your ears are sharp, as usual.”

They used to don blue bandanas and balaclavas and operate as a colour gang, but had now cut down on the emphasis on colour, and made effort to be inconspicuous on the surface.

“But even like this we’re already out of touch, you know? Since Iza-nii disappeared and Namie-san went to America, it’s only the seniors at Rakuei gym who tell us these things.”

Aoba shrugged as he said this, but then Kururi leaned her face by his ear.

“…no …on your own…die…”

At the sudden whisper by his ear, Aoba yelped unthinkingly.

“~~~”

“Don’t threaten me,” he said, and averted his face.

Because the person in question was glaring hatefully at Aoba, cheek twitching.

“You bastard… acting all lovey-dovey with a cute girl in broad daylight… With! A cute girl!”

“I’ll kill you! If I kill you at least some man in the world will get that share of girls surely!”

Seeing Aoba turning purple, the other boys snickered as well.

“Wait, Yoshikiri-san, what’re you doing to Kuronuma-senpai?!”

“Let go Kotonami! If I kill him I’ll get girls too!”

“…Aah?”

There was a crick as Yoshikiri’s temple twitched, and he let go of Aoba’s neck.

“Popular guys don’t care for their lives after all, huh? Huh?!”
“Gyaa! I give up! I give up!”

A few minutes later, after Yoshikiri had attracted the attention of the game centre’s staff, the boy was eventually released, and rubbing his whole body, he asked Aoba:

“No!”

“No… Not my girlfriends, they’re my friends, just friends.”

“Yep. We’re friends, just friends. Cause both Kuru-nee and I haven’t gone further than kissing with Aocchi yet.”

Aoba hurried to stop Mairu, but Yoshikiri hollered again from behind him.

Probably considering that the game centre could ban them permanently, the surrounding boys were suppressing Yoshikiri and dragging him off to some other part of the city. Aoba, left behind, sighed deeply, as he proceeded to introduce Kururi and Mairu to the younger boy.

Then Aoba continued, introducing the younger boy to Kururi and Mairu.

“Hi, I’m Kotonami Kuon.”

“Really? Thanks.”

“But speaking of which, your getup’s very funky. Were you really in middle school up till recently?”

For his appearance was not one that could conceivably be linked to someone who had just graduated middle school.

Around his ears his hair was not only shaved close but had tramlines, and the rest of it had been grown out and dyed a shocking green. His ears were pierced with elaborate earrings, and were about as strikingly individualistic as his hair.

The boy’s appearance was one where even in a visual kei band he would probably be the especially eye-catching member.

“Him, from before last month.”

Dodging Kuon’s arm as he tried to steal the phone, Mairu took the phone from Aoba’s hand.

“Ahahahahahaha! Well done! Is this your high school debut?! Or did you start a visual kei band?”

“…peace…balance…”

“Ahhhhhh! You suck, Kuronuma-senpai! You’re terrorising me! It’s bullying! It’s like the mother-in-law picking on the new wife!”

Going along with Aoba’s chuckling, Mairu laughed for a while – but abruptly, without any change of expression, she asked a question.

“Eh?”

“…”

Anyone who knew Kuronuma Aoba or the Blue Square well would probably think the same.

There was no way someone such a person chose to bring around could be simply a middle schooler excited about delinquency. There was a hidden truth. Anyone who knew of Aoba’s true nature would have arrived at that conclusion.

Although even with this in mind, Mairu, who broached this boldly right in front of Kuon, could be called eccentric herself.

After some time, with an air different from before and a smile from which coldness could somehow be felt, Kuon murmured. “…Your girlfriend’s an interesting person, isn’t she, Kuronuma-senpai.” “She’s not my girlfriend, I said. Even if I were to get one I’d definitely prefer Kururi…” “Ah, you’ll say something like that?! Aocchi?! Isn’t that a little rude?!” There was Mairu, making a loud fuss, and Kururi, who did not seem particularly moved. Kuon watched his seniors, and raising a hand, began to leave.

“Ah, oi. You don’t have to…”

The boy left, his voice light as ever, and Aoba, seeing this, sighed deeply.

“Eh~. Aren’t you contradicting yourself? You’re rather involved with him yourself, Aocchi.”

Aoba mumbled incoherently, but then, as if finally having made up his mind, he spoke to the two again.

“Ehhh? Really?! What a genius, a professor!”

“…shock…”

Aoba averted his eyes as he said this, while Mairu, pressed on with more questions.

“Don’t say it like we’re stupid. …Well, we have a bit of a give-and-take relationship… Put simply, he’s one of our major financers.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Wait! So that kid has a rich family and all of you are extorting him or something?!”

“…evil…”

“Then what is it?”

“That guy, he has his own source of income. We help with that and get the leftovers. Well, it’s like we’re working part time at a store he runs… something like that. Though there isn’t actually a store.”

“No, no, it’s not like that! It’s borderline still legal. …mostly.”

Interrupting Mairu, who seemed about to say something, Aoba said,

“Tch.”

Aoba sighed once more, exasperated, and Kururi moved closer to ask:

“…what…work…?”

Tell us

“…”

“Honestly; you two really throw people off… Well whatever. In a nutshell, we do everything. In different situations we’ve acted as news reporters or faked things like on TV; we’ve started commotions in the city for that too.”

“He has the connections to turn that into money. And we’re holding on to his biggest source of cash. Though we don’t let him have at it so easily.”

Mairu caught on that this was one of Kuon’s ‘sources of income’; Aoba, bitter humour in his voice, replied. “You two should know as well, Mairu.”

“It’s the Headless Rider.”

At this familiar term suddenly brought up, Kururi and Mairu exchanged glances.

“Make money from the Headless Rider?! What’s that even mean?!”

There Aoba thought of the gaudy face of his junior, and smiled with heartfelt cheer.

“A snake?”
Mairu puzzled, and Aoba continued:

“He wants to swallow Ikebukuro itself whole, himself included.”

***CHAPTER END***

Notes:

I was wondering why it was Aoba and the twins seemed so intimate, and I realised it was because Aoba doesn’t use honorifics with the twins. I never actively noticed this before.

On another note, Mizuchi’s name, while having different kanji, has the same pronunciation as a kind of serpent-dragon hybrid (the link leads to Wikipedia).