Read Online Durarara!!, Vol. 1 (novel) by Ryohgo Narita - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ryohgo Narita
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction
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like a yakuza thing—he’s just
unstable
. He’s unpredictable. His motives and beliefs change every five seconds. The fear he inspires isn’t one of danger…it’s more like he makes me sick. One of those creepy-crawly feelings that sneaks up on you. I’m never going to the
other side
again. If you ever wanna smoke ganja or whatever, don’t look to me for help.”
Ganja. Mikado shook his head abruptly. He’d never seen it in person, but he’d been on the Internet long enough to know exactly what that was.
“I’m just kidding, man. You’re the kind of guy who won’t drink or smoke until the legal age at twenty. Just stay away from him and Shizuo Heiwajima. That’s rule number one.”
Masaomi clearly didn’t want to say another word about Izaya, so they kept walking in silence for a while. Mikado had never seen Masaomi like this before. More than Izaya, it was Masaomi’s attitude that had piqued his curiosity.
Maybe there’s no limit to the kind of extraordinary things I can experience here
, Mikado thought. It was a stretch from what prompted the notion, but he could feel his excitement and expectation growing from within.
It had only been a few days since Mikado came to Ikebukuro. But already, the phrase
return home
had disappeared from his dictionary.
Those crowds of people, which had seemed so artificial and inorganic, now looked like processions of saints bringing life and prosperity to the town.
Something fascinating is going to happen. I can feel it. The adventure I wanted is just around the corner. This is a place where those TV shows and comic books come to life.
His eyes sparkling with this misguided thought, Mikado found hope and excitement in his life ahead.
Chapter 5: A Regular Day in Town, Night
“So anyway, is there anything in particular you’d like to do before you die?”
It was a rather frightening question for Izaya Orihara to ask in a karaoke room. He spoke calmly, drink in his hand, not bothering to choose a song.
But the two women he was asking just shook their heads without a word.
“I see. Are you sure you want to do this with me? There aren’t better men you’d rather commit suicide with?”
“No. That’s why we want to die.”
“Good point,” Izaya noted, his face still placid. He examined the two women. They didn’t seem particularly gloomy. If a total stranger looked at them, they’d never suspect that these two harbored suicidal thoughts.
They had chosen to participate in a thread Izaya posted to a pro-suicide message board titled “Let’s go through with it together!”
Izaya’s message was extremely upbeat and positive, and for good reason: He’d taken a spam message from a dating site and tweaked the language a tiny bit, nothing more. But surprisingly enough, a quick perusal of the various posts on that board showed that many of them were optimistic in style. The text was crisp and practical, discussions of methods and motives for suicide, without any of the attitude one would expect a person preparing to die must exhibit. Some postswere as thorough as planning documents for a major business. Izaya enjoyed seeing the great variety of “invitations” on the site.
Of the two women here who had chosen death, one was having trouble finding a job. The other was in despair because she couldn’t get over a broken heart.
Neither seemed to be a satisfactory reason to kill oneself, but such motives were proliferating since the beginning of the recession, and an aggregation of suicides grouped by career showed that the unemployed were easily the largest group. When grouped by age, suicides by those under the age of twenty were also far lower than any other age group. Because the media widely reported on those cases stemming from bullying or other youthful causes, there was a perception that many suicide victims were young, but the vast majority of them were actually adults. The two women with Izaya appeared to be in their midtwenties.
This was around
unstable
. He’s unpredictable. His motives and beliefs change every five seconds. The fear he inspires isn’t one of danger…it’s more like he makes me sick. One of those creepy-crawly feelings that sneaks up on you. I’m never going to the
other side
again. If you ever wanna smoke ganja or whatever, don’t look to me for help.”
Ganja. Mikado shook his head abruptly. He’d never seen it in person, but he’d been on the Internet long enough to know exactly what that was.
“I’m just kidding, man. You’re the kind of guy who won’t drink or smoke until the legal age at twenty. Just stay away from him and Shizuo Heiwajima. That’s rule number one.”
Masaomi clearly didn’t want to say another word about Izaya, so they kept walking in silence for a while. Mikado had never seen Masaomi like this before. More than Izaya, it was Masaomi’s attitude that had piqued his curiosity.
Maybe there’s no limit to the kind of extraordinary things I can experience here
, Mikado thought. It was a stretch from what prompted the notion, but he could feel his excitement and expectation growing from within.
It had only been a few days since Mikado came to Ikebukuro. But already, the phrase
return home
had disappeared from his dictionary.
Those crowds of people, which had seemed so artificial and inorganic, now looked like processions of saints bringing life and prosperity to the town.
Something fascinating is going to happen. I can feel it. The adventure I wanted is just around the corner. This is a place where those TV shows and comic books come to life.
His eyes sparkling with this misguided thought, Mikado found hope and excitement in his life ahead.
Chapter 5: A Regular Day in Town, Night
“So anyway, is there anything in particular you’d like to do before you die?”
It was a rather frightening question for Izaya Orihara to ask in a karaoke room. He spoke calmly, drink in his hand, not bothering to choose a song.
But the two women he was asking just shook their heads without a word.
“I see. Are you sure you want to do this with me? There aren’t better men you’d rather commit suicide with?”
“No. That’s why we want to die.”
“Good point,” Izaya noted, his face still placid. He examined the two women. They didn’t seem particularly gloomy. If a total stranger looked at them, they’d never suspect that these two harbored suicidal thoughts.
They had chosen to participate in a thread Izaya posted to a pro-suicide message board titled “Let’s go through with it together!”
Izaya’s message was extremely upbeat and positive, and for good reason: He’d taken a spam message from a dating site and tweaked the language a tiny bit, nothing more. But surprisingly enough, a quick perusal of the various posts on that board showed that many of them were optimistic in style. The text was crisp and practical, discussions of methods and motives for suicide, without any of the attitude one would expect a person preparing to die must exhibit. Some postswere as thorough as planning documents for a major business. Izaya enjoyed seeing the great variety of “invitations” on the site.
Of the two women here who had chosen death, one was having trouble finding a job. The other was in despair because she couldn’t get over a broken heart.
Neither seemed to be a satisfactory reason to kill oneself, but such motives were proliferating since the beginning of the recession, and an aggregation of suicides grouped by career showed that the unemployed were easily the largest group. When grouped by age, suicides by those under the age of twenty were also far lower than any other age group. Because the media widely reported on those cases stemming from bullying or other youthful causes, there was a perception that many suicide victims were young, but the vast majority of them were actually adults. The two women with Izaya appeared to be in their midtwenties.
This was around
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