regard by a mile.
“I was so surprised to overhear you introducing yourself! It’s really you!” the boy chattered excitedly, but Mikado was confused.
Who is this? Have I met him somewhere before?
If that was the case, it would be rude to have forgotten his face, even if he was a lower-ranking student. Mikado’s face scrunched up as he tried to remember, but nothing was coming to mind.
The boy named Aoba Kuronuma recognized the troubled look on his face and smiled gently. “Oh, I’m sorry. Don’t worry. It’s our first meeting. I only just learned your name a minute ago!”
“Oh, I see. Wait…why were you so surprised, then?” Mikado asked, a perfectly reasonable question. The boy’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“Because…oh.” He shut his mouth for a moment, looked around cautiously, then whispered.
“Aren’t you…
in the Dollars?
”
“…!”
Mikado’s eyes went wide, and his mouth worked soundlessly.
“Wh-what do you mean?” he finally squeaked, just as he heard the vibrating of his cell phone from within his schoolbag. Based on the length of the sound, it had to be an e-mail.
“Oh, you finally got it,” the boy said, grinning.
Mikado hastily pulled his phone out and saw a message from the Dollars’ mailing list. It was a message to all from one of the hundreds ofpeople on the mailing list that read,
“I’m recruiting new members from Raira Academy! Please tell me how it’s going at other schools!”
Mikado noticed the username “Wakaba Mark” and looked back at the other boy.
“Wait, are you saying…?”
“Yes, I’m Wakaba Mark! I was just about the six hundredth person to join the Dollars, but you remember how the registration site got trashed and went down? So my name’s not in there anymore…”
“H-how did you know I was one of the Dollars?” the older boy asked, clearly rattled, while the younger just showed off a cheeky, confident smirk.
“I didn’t know for sure. But…remember when we had that Dollars meetup in real life a year ago? You were there in the middle, talking to that woman who was our target, right? The image just stuck in my head ever since!”
The Dollars were a unique organization that increased its power through the Internet.
They were ostensibly categorized as a color-based street gang, but the ties that bound the group together were loose at best, yet extremely wide ranging. They had been in a state of conflict with another gang called the Yellow Scarves until recently, when the hostilities abruptly cooled, and now both sides were keeping calm.
If the Dollars were a color gang, the color they repped was either “colorless” or “camouflage.” They blended into the town with alarming ease, never gathering with a unified color to announce their presence.
They were connected through cell phones and the Internet—hidden bonds that rarely took physical form in modern society.
The teenage girls or housewives you passed on the street could be Dollars. The ability to plant that seed of doubt was the Dollars’ shield. And the possibility that it was true was the Dollars’ sword.
The Dollars were a gang with an eerie form of expansion. Their founder was shrouded in mystery, and almost none of its members knew who the leader was.
And at this precise moment, the very founder and source of that mystery was sweating buckets at some uncomfortable questions from a new kid at school.
“Umm, uhh, you don’t have the wrong idea, do you?”
“You got that e-mail.”
“Ah, ahhh. G-good point.”
“So you
do
keep it hidden! Don’t worry. I can keep a secret! I’m very good at protecting others’ secrets, in fact!” Aoba said, his eyes shining with reverence. Mikado was frozen still, completely at a loss for how to respond.
In fact, Mikado had found himself in trouble a year ago, when a huge company was—
“But what was so special about that night? Mr. Ryuugamine, are you actually an officer of the Dollars or something?”
“No,
“I was so surprised to overhear you introducing yourself! It’s really you!” the boy chattered excitedly, but Mikado was confused.
Who is this? Have I met him somewhere before?
If that was the case, it would be rude to have forgotten his face, even if he was a lower-ranking student. Mikado’s face scrunched up as he tried to remember, but nothing was coming to mind.
The boy named Aoba Kuronuma recognized the troubled look on his face and smiled gently. “Oh, I’m sorry. Don’t worry. It’s our first meeting. I only just learned your name a minute ago!”
“Oh, I see. Wait…why were you so surprised, then?” Mikado asked, a perfectly reasonable question. The boy’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“Because…oh.” He shut his mouth for a moment, looked around cautiously, then whispered.
“Aren’t you…
in the Dollars?
”
“…!”
Mikado’s eyes went wide, and his mouth worked soundlessly.
“Wh-what do you mean?” he finally squeaked, just as he heard the vibrating of his cell phone from within his schoolbag. Based on the length of the sound, it had to be an e-mail.
“Oh, you finally got it,” the boy said, grinning.
Mikado hastily pulled his phone out and saw a message from the Dollars’ mailing list. It was a message to all from one of the hundreds ofpeople on the mailing list that read,
“I’m recruiting new members from Raira Academy! Please tell me how it’s going at other schools!”
Mikado noticed the username “Wakaba Mark” and looked back at the other boy.
“Wait, are you saying…?”
“Yes, I’m Wakaba Mark! I was just about the six hundredth person to join the Dollars, but you remember how the registration site got trashed and went down? So my name’s not in there anymore…”
“H-how did you know I was one of the Dollars?” the older boy asked, clearly rattled, while the younger just showed off a cheeky, confident smirk.
“I didn’t know for sure. But…remember when we had that Dollars meetup in real life a year ago? You were there in the middle, talking to that woman who was our target, right? The image just stuck in my head ever since!”
The Dollars were a unique organization that increased its power through the Internet.
They were ostensibly categorized as a color-based street gang, but the ties that bound the group together were loose at best, yet extremely wide ranging. They had been in a state of conflict with another gang called the Yellow Scarves until recently, when the hostilities abruptly cooled, and now both sides were keeping calm.
If the Dollars were a color gang, the color they repped was either “colorless” or “camouflage.” They blended into the town with alarming ease, never gathering with a unified color to announce their presence.
They were connected through cell phones and the Internet—hidden bonds that rarely took physical form in modern society.
The teenage girls or housewives you passed on the street could be Dollars. The ability to plant that seed of doubt was the Dollars’ shield. And the possibility that it was true was the Dollars’ sword.
The Dollars were a gang with an eerie form of expansion. Their founder was shrouded in mystery, and almost none of its members knew who the leader was.
And at this precise moment, the very founder and source of that mystery was sweating buckets at some uncomfortable questions from a new kid at school.
“Umm, uhh, you don’t have the wrong idea, do you?”
“You got that e-mail.”
“Ah, ahhh. G-good point.”
“So you
do
keep it hidden! Don’t worry. I can keep a secret! I’m very good at protecting others’ secrets, in fact!” Aoba said, his eyes shining with reverence. Mikado was frozen still, completely at a loss for how to respond.
In fact, Mikado had found himself in trouble a year ago, when a huge company was—
“But what was so special about that night? Mr. Ryuugamine, are you actually an officer of the Dollars or something?”
“No,
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