DURARARA!! Vol.5 INTERLUDE OR PROLOGUE B
Happy birthday, Hijiribe Ruri!
...And it's always such incredible joy to translate Vorona.
INTERLUDE OR PROLOGUE B VORONA AND SLON (CROW AND ELEPHANT*)
* "Vorona" and "Slon" are Russian for "crow" and "elephant" respectively.
Somewhere in Russia
The whispers in Russian slowly sank into the soil as they were blown away by the wind.
“......This is so weird.....I mean, this is so weird..."
Against the backdrop of an immense expansive field, a man seemed to be wound up over something.
He wasn't tall per se, but his skeleton was wide, and the muscles covering it were strong - making him look one size larger than an average guy of his height.
He was somewhere around 40. Donning a white coat over an already white jacket, he could easily have been mistaken for a polar bear from a distance.
Layers of scarves were wrapped around his head. White puffs of moisture were coming from his open mouth as if he were a steam engine train.
"This is really weird. I don't feel like there's a way out of this......"
Around him there were about ten other guys, one of which - a bespectacled middle-aged man, asked with all seriousness in the world -
"What could possibly be bothering you, Comrade Lingerin?"
“Huh? Ohh......ohhh. Listen Drakon. This is really weird."
"What exactly is it?"
The man who had just been referred to as "Drakon" asked as he looked at the other man's hands.
He saw two narrow-necked jars - which the man named Lingerin had somehow squeezed his left and right hand into respectively.
"Look at this, Drakon."
"......"
Lingerin raised the jars high without trying to retract his hands.
His silhouette looked as if it were wearing boxing gloves. Drakon eyed him with a serious face and - without even a drop of cold sweat on his back - spoke again.
"What happened to you, Comrade Lingerin?"
Lingerin replied to that with a serious face of his own as he shook the jars slightly.
"I can't get my hands out."
Silence reigned for a while among the men; Drakon, however, simply pushed his glasses as he replied.
"That is really a big deal."
"I was trying to get something inside these jars, and somehow can't get my hands out."
Anyone else would have thought they'd been made fun of at this point and laughed hollowly - yet Drakon replied again with unabated seriousness.
Though his reply had a tone of resignation to it.
"Well. If worst comes to worst, you'll just have to spend your whole life like that."
"That would be problematic. How am I supposed to eat or shit like this?"
"Nothing is impossible in the great Russia. The immense expanses of Russian soil would take the likes of Comrade Lingerin any time with motherly warmth to feed the growth of a new generation."
"Hmm? .......Did you just say I'm gonna be buried or something? Did you just skip a lot of chapters about my life? Why, Drakon?"
Lingerin tilted his head. Drakon pushed his glasses again as he spoke.
"Then I'll just be straightforward. Give up the thought of living. Both physically and mentally."
"Even when you say you're straightforward you're basically telling me to die in a long-winded way. Aren't you just getting more fearsome?"
"I was just kidding, Comrade Lingerin."
Drakon deadpanned.
Just as the men around them began to suspect that Drakon's face was made of wax - Drakon stated his wish rather matter-of-factly.
"If you are going to die, please do so after we've survived this crisis situation."
Upon hearing this, Lingerin at last turned to face the men around him.
With the exception of Drakon, these men were all of unknown age to him.
They wore bullet-proof face masks and titanium helmets, and vests with various utility pockets over assault suits. For some reason a few of them were also wearing gas masks, making them look like some sort of special force from a remote country.
But there was no uniformity whatsoever in the way they were equipped; it seemed like they just picked up whatever they found easiest to use.
Several of them were carrying automatic firearms, which made the atmosphere tense in these Russian woods.
As he looked around at these men, Lingerin made noises as he flexed his neck and spoke.
"So who exactly are these nuisances here?"
”Thirty-seven armed illegal immigrants. Looks like they were planning to go to the Western countries via Russia, but decided that we, who happened to have overheard their plan as they were discussing it, needed to be dealt with first."
"We just happened to overhear? What horrible people. Or did we really?"
“If ‘you were tapping their car thinking it was our rival's and therefore overheard their plan, then told them that we overheard just so that you could try to talk them into buying our weapons’ counts as 'we just happened to overhear', then yes."
"Wow, then we really just happened to overhear."
Though Lingerin laughed bitterly as he said this, his hands, which were still stuck in the jars, made this entire scene a joke.
Drakon continued to show no emotion whatsoever as he moved his lips robotically.
"So it turned out they attacked the village we were staying in with the intention of robbing us of the weapons. Judging by how quickly and unhesitatingly they made the move, they might have been planning on obtaining weapons in that fashion from the very beginning."
"Really......so in short, they're a bunch of robbers without borders?"
"That was not what I was trying to say at all. But since Comrade Lingerin's head is dumb, that would suffice."
"Ahh. You know you've got an outstanding military staff when he knows where to find points of compromise. I trust you, Drakon."
The flow of the conversation made little sense. Nevertheless, Lingerin Douglanikov - the head of this small weapon business flexed his neck once more and waited for more enemies to appear on the scene.
"Really, what a pain in the ass. If only we still had those two I'd be able to just sleep through it."
"Are you talking about Samia (Simon) and Denis who quit years ago? Or Comrade Igor who's still taking a break?"
"Nah. Those guys were pretty capable as well. But I'm talking about the special ones who would know to attack even without being ordered to in such situations."
Like a child talking about his favorite hero, the forty-something man was apparently mesmerized by the mere thought.
Had he already drunk an entire bottle of vodka this morning?
"I gave Igor his break just so that he could look for those two."
Looking at the other man's fascinated expression, Drakon showed some emotion on his face for the first time.
"Vorona and......Slon."
Slight disgust. That was the only emotion shown on Drakon's face.
"It's true that they're perfect for such jobs. However, considering that Slon's head is even more..... ‘that’ than Comrade Lingerin's......"
"His head is more what than mine? ......More awesome?"
"I take that back. Comrade Lingerin's head wouldn't lose to his in any aspect."
Drakon's face was back to expressionless as he went on to talk about another human being.
"Vorona......has more loveliness, more intellect, and more knowledge at her disposal than anyone else in this place......at the same time, though, she's also an unstoppable and incorrigible fighting addict."
He stopped talking here as he removed his glasses.
Lingerin grinned at Drakon and spoke in a cool voice.
"You know that sounded like you were just showing off your own daughter, don't you, Drakon? If that's what you were doing, at least call her by her real name, not that nickname 'Vorona'."
Even though they had this conversation as if they didn't have a tough battle to fight ahead - Drakon wiped all emotions off his face as he spoke to his employer.
"She's no longer my daughter."
"How could she be......when she and Slon just took our weapons and escaped to Japan?"
♂♀
May 3rd, Sunshine 60 Street, Ikebukuro
Just as the shoplifter was charging forward like a bull, knocking people out of his way -
"Что случилось? (What happened?)"
The one who muttered to himself was a Caucasian male somehow even more attention-drawing than the shoplifter.
There were quite a number of black men working as hawkers in Ikebukuro, so the presence of foreigners was not a novelty in itself. But -
In addition to being over 2 meters tall, the man had limbs as thick as logs and protruding muscles that made him look like a professional wrestler. The luggage he carried on his back was the size of sandbags; overall, he resembled some sort of martial artist on a self-improvement tour.
But more than all of those combined, however, he drew attention because he contrasted so forcefully with the person right next to him.
"Нет проблем. (No problem.)"
The one who answered in Russian was a Caucasian female around 20 who held a large paper bag in her hands.
Her features were somewhat childlike; it was probably more adequate to call her a girl than a woman. But her body was already no different from an adult female's. On her lean arms streamlined muscles were vaguely visible.
Her short hair was a shining platinum blond. At the centers of her sky-blue eyes there was a pair of tiny pupils deep as ice caves.
Her expression was somewhat cold, and the skin on her body slightly mutilated here and there with marks that looked like scars. The color of her casual attire was prevalently black, adding to the dark aura she seemed to emanate.
Yet that aura became the best possible backdrop and brought out her elegant looks in an incredible way.
The breathtaking beauty and the masculine beast.
They turned quite a number of heads with their appearance; however, the same heads quickly turned away and focused instead on the commotion the shoplifter was causing.
The Caucasian girl didn't seem to take notice of the reaction of the crowd. She simply said to the huge guy next to her with a face devoid of expression:
"Slon. I negate. ……Speak Japanese when in Japan. The policy we decided on long ago. When in Rome, do as Romans do. The basics of concealing identity. I too without thinking gave response in Russian. I will watch out. We do the same."
"Sorry, Vorona. My bad."
"You are attention-drawing. We are entering the karaoke, the destination. Please affirm."
The Caucasian female's intonation was perfect, yet her choice of words remained somewhat awkward.
Vorona - since that appeared to be her name - walked towards the destination with Slon at her heel.
She didn't seem interested in either the shoplifter commotion or what happened afterwards.
Having walked away from the swarming crowd, she said in a small voice as if to herself:
"A greenhouse-bred country, too used to peace. Half disappointment. Half jealousy."
♂♀
Several minutes later, in a karaoke box
"I can't. I can't move. I'm so wound up over this that I can't even make one step forward!"
They had entered the karaoke box as indicated and were waiting for the “client” to appear. The huge guy, Slon, cupped his head with his hands as he squatted down.
Vorona, on the other hand, took out a book from her paper bag and began to turn the pages as she replied matter-of-factly.
"You're sitting. I deny the necessity for you to walk."
"I can't help being all wound up over this......we just passed some sukiyaki and shabu-shabu restaurants on the way here. I can't help getting all wound up over beef......"
Slon looked as if his world were about to end. Vorona, however, did not even cast a glance in his direction as she continued to leaf through the pages.
"How......how do cows grow to such immense sizes when all they ever chew on is grass! It's simply weird that they can get so big just by eating grass......if this mystery is not solved, I don't even see any point in living, let alone go to work!"
Tears trickled down the huge guy's face as he shouted what was practically nonsense. Vorona did not look up as she continued to turn the pages; however, her lips began to form words as if they had a life of their own.
"......The stomach of a cow hosts special microorganisms, the microorganisms react with grass and the cow's saliva. Produce amino acids, the cow absorbs them, wherewith the cow grows. No problem."
"......"
Slon's question was answered perfectly.
Looking satisfied with Vorona's answer, Slon began to bubble with joy.
"So that's how! You are something indeed, Vorona! That's how! Now I can eat my beef steak in peace! After all this answer is just perfect!"
But -
"I can now drink cow milk in peace too! Though it's still slightly weird, the idea of humans drinking......cow milk......ehhh......speaking of which......"
As if something had just occurred to him, he cupped his head with his hands again and fell onto the table with karaoke menus on it.
"I can't move! ......I'm so wound up over it that I can't even bring myself to look at the menu......when I was thinking about cow milk, my thoughts somehow wandered to the fact that men have nipples.....what good does that do exactly to reproduction......? I'm not moving an inch until I've solved the mystery of the male nipples! This is my war!"
"......When a fetus, there is a period during which a human being is neither male or female. Gender is decided after the nipples part has been formed. Just vestigial."
"Oh......oooooh.......perfect, Vorona, you're just perfect!"
While Vorona's expression remained virtually unchanged, Slon asked the next question.
"But......! I now have a new question.......if that is not answered, I don't think I can live anymore......! Why, why isn't Vorona looking embarrassed in the slightest!? I mean, I'm talking to you about teasing stuff like nipples and reproduction, in this karaoke box where there's only a man and a woman!"
While Slon was speaking the ultimate nonsense, Vorona simply continued to turn the pages.
Turned the pages.
Turned the pages.
Turned the pages.
Turned the pages
Turned the pages, then turned some more, and then some more -
" - Am I being......ignored!?"
Vorona was just finishing the first book when Slon could no longer stand it and yelled.
Then, she took out a second book and parted her lips as if about to say something en passant - but the door of the karaoke box was opened the exact second before she could actually say anything and a man entered the box.
"Yah, good day, good day. I'm really sorry I'm late."
It was a Japanese man with an extremely good-natured face who looked about 40.
"Good day, good day. I'm really sorry. Good day to you."
The man who kept saying "good day" smiled kindly and sat down on the chair.
"Please forgive me for getting straight to business. I really don't have much time……so I'll explain the 'job' to you right now."
The man finished the sentence smiling and produced two photos from his chest pocket before the duo could even answer.
"Actually, I'm hoping that you can kidnap a little kid for me."
"……….."
The first photo was the photo of a girl with a somewhat cloudy expression.
She looked like she hadn't even finished elementary school. Slon accepted the photo with a frown while Vorona just kept turning the pages of her book despite the fact that the client was explaining the details of the job to them.
The middle-aged man did not seem to mind, however, seeing as he continued his explanation in a nonchalant tone.
"This city has many yakuza……or Japanese mafia. Haha. She's the granddaughter of the head of one of those groups……I'm hoping that you can kidnap her and try not to kill her in the process. Hahaha, I'm really sorry this is not an assassination request but a strange kidnapping job. Good day to you."
"Even though you're technically our employer in this country, I still have to say that we'll decide whether to take the job or not depending on the amount you offer. We can conceal our faces, but even so we demand being paid adequately for risking open war with yakuza."
Slon said in flawless Japanese. The man laughed affably and replied:
"Ahh, actually, the situation's become even more cumbersome than that. The yakuza group in question seemed to have hired a bodyguard……I could hardly believe it myself, but if what I heard is true, that bodyguard is a fearsome character."
Bodyguard.
Vorona's hands stopped turning the pages upon hearing that word.
"Guard, very impregnable? Affirmative or negative, I hope for your quick answer."
The man kept his good-natured smile even after he heard Vorona's words and said with a somewhat troubled face:
"How should I put it……it's probably not even a matter of strength……that bodyguard is kind of like a magician."
"?"
"There are video clips floating around on the Internet, so I downloaded some just in time for our meeting……"
At that, the man took out a portable video player and displayed one image on its screen.
It was a screensnap from a TV news program.
In that image what appeared to be a group of criminals were fleeing from patrol cars -
And running into someone on a black motorbike wielding a giant scythe.
"This is the so-called Black Motorbike, kind of an urban legend of our time……I have no idea how he did that, though. Anyhow, he's not going to leave you alone if you try to do anything to the girl in the photo."
The man lowered his head as if troubled - but under that facade, he was actually snickering.
"Confirm, one thing."
Blood rushed to Vorona's face as her expression relaxed slightly in what appeared to be joy -
She did nothing to conceal the excitement bubbling in her heart as she asked a simple question:
"If I kill the person on this motorbike, will you not blame me?"
That was a meaningless question.
Slon did not think he fell under the smart category, but he had been working with his female partner long enough to know.
Vorona was a born fighting addict.
There was no way she was going to turn down this job now that the prospect of fighting an unknown opponent was dangling before her eyes like a carrot.
He was also sure of something else.
No matter what Yodogiri Jinnai - their employer for this job - said, Vorona was going to kill the rider on the motorbike for sure.
Having made that assessment, Slon thought quietly to himself:
- Well, I don't really know. I don't care either way.
And just like that, the Russians, who had yet to show Ikebukuro what they were capable of, stepped into the world of non-daily life out of their own conscious will.
Of course, this volatile state of things -
Was probably the more familiar, "dailier" form of life for them after all.
END OF INTERLUDE OR PROLOGUE B
...And it's always such incredible joy to translate Vorona.
INTERLUDE OR PROLOGUE B VORONA AND SLON (CROW AND ELEPHANT*)
* "Vorona" and "Slon" are Russian for "crow" and "elephant" respectively.
Somewhere in Russia
The whispers in Russian slowly sank into the soil as they were blown away by the wind.
“......This is so weird.....I mean, this is so weird..."
Against the backdrop of an immense expansive field, a man seemed to be wound up over something.
He wasn't tall per se, but his skeleton was wide, and the muscles covering it were strong - making him look one size larger than an average guy of his height.
He was somewhere around 40. Donning a white coat over an already white jacket, he could easily have been mistaken for a polar bear from a distance.
Layers of scarves were wrapped around his head. White puffs of moisture were coming from his open mouth as if he were a steam engine train.
"This is really weird. I don't feel like there's a way out of this......"
Around him there were about ten other guys, one of which - a bespectacled middle-aged man, asked with all seriousness in the world -
"What could possibly be bothering you, Comrade Lingerin?"
“Huh? Ohh......ohhh. Listen Drakon. This is really weird."
"What exactly is it?"
The man who had just been referred to as "Drakon" asked as he looked at the other man's hands.
He saw two narrow-necked jars - which the man named Lingerin had somehow squeezed his left and right hand into respectively.
"Look at this, Drakon."
"......"
Lingerin raised the jars high without trying to retract his hands.
His silhouette looked as if it were wearing boxing gloves. Drakon eyed him with a serious face and - without even a drop of cold sweat on his back - spoke again.
"What happened to you, Comrade Lingerin?"
Lingerin replied to that with a serious face of his own as he shook the jars slightly.
"I can't get my hands out."
Silence reigned for a while among the men; Drakon, however, simply pushed his glasses as he replied.
"That is really a big deal."
"I was trying to get something inside these jars, and somehow can't get my hands out."
Anyone else would have thought they'd been made fun of at this point and laughed hollowly - yet Drakon replied again with unabated seriousness.
Though his reply had a tone of resignation to it.
"Well. If worst comes to worst, you'll just have to spend your whole life like that."
"That would be problematic. How am I supposed to eat or shit like this?"
"Nothing is impossible in the great Russia. The immense expanses of Russian soil would take the likes of Comrade Lingerin any time with motherly warmth to feed the growth of a new generation."
"Hmm? .......Did you just say I'm gonna be buried or something? Did you just skip a lot of chapters about my life? Why, Drakon?"
Lingerin tilted his head. Drakon pushed his glasses again as he spoke.
"Then I'll just be straightforward. Give up the thought of living. Both physically and mentally."
"Even when you say you're straightforward you're basically telling me to die in a long-winded way. Aren't you just getting more fearsome?"
"I was just kidding, Comrade Lingerin."
Drakon deadpanned.
Just as the men around them began to suspect that Drakon's face was made of wax - Drakon stated his wish rather matter-of-factly.
"If you are going to die, please do so after we've survived this crisis situation."
Upon hearing this, Lingerin at last turned to face the men around him.
With the exception of Drakon, these men were all of unknown age to him.
They wore bullet-proof face masks and titanium helmets, and vests with various utility pockets over assault suits. For some reason a few of them were also wearing gas masks, making them look like some sort of special force from a remote country.
But there was no uniformity whatsoever in the way they were equipped; it seemed like they just picked up whatever they found easiest to use.
Several of them were carrying automatic firearms, which made the atmosphere tense in these Russian woods.
As he looked around at these men, Lingerin made noises as he flexed his neck and spoke.
"So who exactly are these nuisances here?"
”Thirty-seven armed illegal immigrants. Looks like they were planning to go to the Western countries via Russia, but decided that we, who happened to have overheard their plan as they were discussing it, needed to be dealt with first."
"We just happened to overhear? What horrible people. Or did we really?"
“If ‘you were tapping their car thinking it was our rival's and therefore overheard their plan, then told them that we overheard just so that you could try to talk them into buying our weapons’ counts as 'we just happened to overhear', then yes."
"Wow, then we really just happened to overhear."
Though Lingerin laughed bitterly as he said this, his hands, which were still stuck in the jars, made this entire scene a joke.
Drakon continued to show no emotion whatsoever as he moved his lips robotically.
"So it turned out they attacked the village we were staying in with the intention of robbing us of the weapons. Judging by how quickly and unhesitatingly they made the move, they might have been planning on obtaining weapons in that fashion from the very beginning."
"Really......so in short, they're a bunch of robbers without borders?"
"That was not what I was trying to say at all. But since Comrade Lingerin's head is dumb, that would suffice."
"Ahh. You know you've got an outstanding military staff when he knows where to find points of compromise. I trust you, Drakon."
The flow of the conversation made little sense. Nevertheless, Lingerin Douglanikov - the head of this small weapon business flexed his neck once more and waited for more enemies to appear on the scene.
"Really, what a pain in the ass. If only we still had those two I'd be able to just sleep through it."
"Are you talking about Samia (Simon) and Denis who quit years ago? Or Comrade Igor who's still taking a break?"
"Nah. Those guys were pretty capable as well. But I'm talking about the special ones who would know to attack even without being ordered to in such situations."
Like a child talking about his favorite hero, the forty-something man was apparently mesmerized by the mere thought.
Had he already drunk an entire bottle of vodka this morning?
"I gave Igor his break just so that he could look for those two."
Looking at the other man's fascinated expression, Drakon showed some emotion on his face for the first time.
"Vorona and......Slon."
Slight disgust. That was the only emotion shown on Drakon's face.
"It's true that they're perfect for such jobs. However, considering that Slon's head is even more..... ‘that’ than Comrade Lingerin's......"
"His head is more what than mine? ......More awesome?"
"I take that back. Comrade Lingerin's head wouldn't lose to his in any aspect."
Drakon's face was back to expressionless as he went on to talk about another human being.
"Vorona......has more loveliness, more intellect, and more knowledge at her disposal than anyone else in this place......at the same time, though, she's also an unstoppable and incorrigible fighting addict."
He stopped talking here as he removed his glasses.
Lingerin grinned at Drakon and spoke in a cool voice.
"You know that sounded like you were just showing off your own daughter, don't you, Drakon? If that's what you were doing, at least call her by her real name, not that nickname 'Vorona'."
Even though they had this conversation as if they didn't have a tough battle to fight ahead - Drakon wiped all emotions off his face as he spoke to his employer.
"She's no longer my daughter."
"How could she be......when she and Slon just took our weapons and escaped to Japan?"
♂♀
May 3rd, Sunshine 60 Street, Ikebukuro
Just as the shoplifter was charging forward like a bull, knocking people out of his way -
"Что случилось? (What happened?)"
The one who muttered to himself was a Caucasian male somehow even more attention-drawing than the shoplifter.
There were quite a number of black men working as hawkers in Ikebukuro, so the presence of foreigners was not a novelty in itself. But -
In addition to being over 2 meters tall, the man had limbs as thick as logs and protruding muscles that made him look like a professional wrestler. The luggage he carried on his back was the size of sandbags; overall, he resembled some sort of martial artist on a self-improvement tour.
But more than all of those combined, however, he drew attention because he contrasted so forcefully with the person right next to him.
"Нет проблем. (No problem.)"
The one who answered in Russian was a Caucasian female around 20 who held a large paper bag in her hands.
Her features were somewhat childlike; it was probably more adequate to call her a girl than a woman. But her body was already no different from an adult female's. On her lean arms streamlined muscles were vaguely visible.
Her short hair was a shining platinum blond. At the centers of her sky-blue eyes there was a pair of tiny pupils deep as ice caves.
Her expression was somewhat cold, and the skin on her body slightly mutilated here and there with marks that looked like scars. The color of her casual attire was prevalently black, adding to the dark aura she seemed to emanate.
Yet that aura became the best possible backdrop and brought out her elegant looks in an incredible way.
The breathtaking beauty and the masculine beast.
They turned quite a number of heads with their appearance; however, the same heads quickly turned away and focused instead on the commotion the shoplifter was causing.
The Caucasian girl didn't seem to take notice of the reaction of the crowd. She simply said to the huge guy next to her with a face devoid of expression:
"Slon. I negate. ……Speak Japanese when in Japan. The policy we decided on long ago. When in Rome, do as Romans do. The basics of concealing identity. I too without thinking gave response in Russian. I will watch out. We do the same."
"Sorry, Vorona. My bad."
"You are attention-drawing. We are entering the karaoke, the destination. Please affirm."
The Caucasian female's intonation was perfect, yet her choice of words remained somewhat awkward.
Vorona - since that appeared to be her name - walked towards the destination with Slon at her heel.
She didn't seem interested in either the shoplifter commotion or what happened afterwards.
Having walked away from the swarming crowd, she said in a small voice as if to herself:
"A greenhouse-bred country, too used to peace. Half disappointment. Half jealousy."
♂♀
Several minutes later, in a karaoke box
"I can't. I can't move. I'm so wound up over this that I can't even make one step forward!"
They had entered the karaoke box as indicated and were waiting for the “client” to appear. The huge guy, Slon, cupped his head with his hands as he squatted down.
Vorona, on the other hand, took out a book from her paper bag and began to turn the pages as she replied matter-of-factly.
"You're sitting. I deny the necessity for you to walk."
"I can't help being all wound up over this......we just passed some sukiyaki and shabu-shabu restaurants on the way here. I can't help getting all wound up over beef......"
Slon looked as if his world were about to end. Vorona, however, did not even cast a glance in his direction as she continued to leaf through the pages.
"How......how do cows grow to such immense sizes when all they ever chew on is grass! It's simply weird that they can get so big just by eating grass......if this mystery is not solved, I don't even see any point in living, let alone go to work!"
Tears trickled down the huge guy's face as he shouted what was practically nonsense. Vorona did not look up as she continued to turn the pages; however, her lips began to form words as if they had a life of their own.
"......The stomach of a cow hosts special microorganisms, the microorganisms react with grass and the cow's saliva. Produce amino acids, the cow absorbs them, wherewith the cow grows. No problem."
"......"
Slon's question was answered perfectly.
Looking satisfied with Vorona's answer, Slon began to bubble with joy.
"So that's how! You are something indeed, Vorona! That's how! Now I can eat my beef steak in peace! After all this answer is just perfect!"
But -
"I can now drink cow milk in peace too! Though it's still slightly weird, the idea of humans drinking......cow milk......ehhh......speaking of which......"
As if something had just occurred to him, he cupped his head with his hands again and fell onto the table with karaoke menus on it.
"I can't move! ......I'm so wound up over it that I can't even bring myself to look at the menu......when I was thinking about cow milk, my thoughts somehow wandered to the fact that men have nipples.....what good does that do exactly to reproduction......? I'm not moving an inch until I've solved the mystery of the male nipples! This is my war!"
"......When a fetus, there is a period during which a human being is neither male or female. Gender is decided after the nipples part has been formed. Just vestigial."
"Oh......oooooh.......perfect, Vorona, you're just perfect!"
While Vorona's expression remained virtually unchanged, Slon asked the next question.
"But......! I now have a new question.......if that is not answered, I don't think I can live anymore......! Why, why isn't Vorona looking embarrassed in the slightest!? I mean, I'm talking to you about teasing stuff like nipples and reproduction, in this karaoke box where there's only a man and a woman!"
While Slon was speaking the ultimate nonsense, Vorona simply continued to turn the pages.
Turned the pages.
Turned the pages.
Turned the pages.
Turned the pages
Turned the pages, then turned some more, and then some more -
" - Am I being......ignored!?"
Vorona was just finishing the first book when Slon could no longer stand it and yelled.
Then, she took out a second book and parted her lips as if about to say something en passant - but the door of the karaoke box was opened the exact second before she could actually say anything and a man entered the box.
"Yah, good day, good day. I'm really sorry I'm late."
It was a Japanese man with an extremely good-natured face who looked about 40.
"Good day, good day. I'm really sorry. Good day to you."
The man who kept saying "good day" smiled kindly and sat down on the chair.
"Please forgive me for getting straight to business. I really don't have much time……so I'll explain the 'job' to you right now."
The man finished the sentence smiling and produced two photos from his chest pocket before the duo could even answer.
"Actually, I'm hoping that you can kidnap a little kid for me."
"……….."
The first photo was the photo of a girl with a somewhat cloudy expression.
She looked like she hadn't even finished elementary school. Slon accepted the photo with a frown while Vorona just kept turning the pages of her book despite the fact that the client was explaining the details of the job to them.
The middle-aged man did not seem to mind, however, seeing as he continued his explanation in a nonchalant tone.
"This city has many yakuza……or Japanese mafia. Haha. She's the granddaughter of the head of one of those groups……I'm hoping that you can kidnap her and try not to kill her in the process. Hahaha, I'm really sorry this is not an assassination request but a strange kidnapping job. Good day to you."
"Even though you're technically our employer in this country, I still have to say that we'll decide whether to take the job or not depending on the amount you offer. We can conceal our faces, but even so we demand being paid adequately for risking open war with yakuza."
Slon said in flawless Japanese. The man laughed affably and replied:
"Ahh, actually, the situation's become even more cumbersome than that. The yakuza group in question seemed to have hired a bodyguard……I could hardly believe it myself, but if what I heard is true, that bodyguard is a fearsome character."
Bodyguard.
Vorona's hands stopped turning the pages upon hearing that word.
"Guard, very impregnable? Affirmative or negative, I hope for your quick answer."
The man kept his good-natured smile even after he heard Vorona's words and said with a somewhat troubled face:
"How should I put it……it's probably not even a matter of strength……that bodyguard is kind of like a magician."
"?"
"There are video clips floating around on the Internet, so I downloaded some just in time for our meeting……"
At that, the man took out a portable video player and displayed one image on its screen.
It was a screensnap from a TV news program.
In that image what appeared to be a group of criminals were fleeing from patrol cars -
And running into someone on a black motorbike wielding a giant scythe.
"This is the so-called Black Motorbike, kind of an urban legend of our time……I have no idea how he did that, though. Anyhow, he's not going to leave you alone if you try to do anything to the girl in the photo."
The man lowered his head as if troubled - but under that facade, he was actually snickering.
"Confirm, one thing."
Blood rushed to Vorona's face as her expression relaxed slightly in what appeared to be joy -
She did nothing to conceal the excitement bubbling in her heart as she asked a simple question:
"If I kill the person on this motorbike, will you not blame me?"
That was a meaningless question.
Slon did not think he fell under the smart category, but he had been working with his female partner long enough to know.
Vorona was a born fighting addict.
There was no way she was going to turn down this job now that the prospect of fighting an unknown opponent was dangling before her eyes like a carrot.
He was also sure of something else.
No matter what Yodogiri Jinnai - their employer for this job - said, Vorona was going to kill the rider on the motorbike for sure.
Having made that assessment, Slon thought quietly to himself:
- Well, I don't really know. I don't care either way.
And just like that, the Russians, who had yet to show Ikebukuro what they were capable of, stepped into the world of non-daily life out of their own conscious will.
Of course, this volatile state of things -
Was probably the more familiar, "dailier" form of life for them after all.
END OF INTERLUDE OR PROLOGUE B