Read Online Durarara!!, Vol. 2 (novel) by Ryohgo Narita - Free Book Online
Authors: Ryohgo Narita
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction
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thick, strong bundle of fibers, still smooth and supple. Upon calm recollection, that seemed like an apt description. But the moment that it hit me, I was unprepared to analyze the sensation—the only thing that filled me was instantaneous terror.
My head’s going to be torn off.
That was actually what I felt. At that very moment, I felt sure my head would tear off—the same way you might feel that having the Grim Reaper’s scythe pressed to your neck means your head would be cut off. It was due to the powerful shock and the centrifugal force of being pushed backward.
A lariat.
He hit me with one of the most basic pro wrestling moves in the book.
Some people watching it on TV might think that the lariat does less damage than a good punch or a German suplex. Some might even claim that anyone suffering heavy damage from a lariat had to be throwing the match.
But that would be a mistake. I once accompanied a writer from the sports page on his beat and got to try out being hit by a wrestling move. I chose the lariat, hoping for the least painful move possible.
The wrestler couldn’t have been using even half of his full strength. But I fell hard onto the ring and passed out. It was less the damage of the fall than the powerful impact of that arm.
That prior experience was possibly the only reason I could even identify that it was a lariat I’d just suffered.
But there was one thing I couldn’t quite buy yet. How did the skinny man I was seeing have the strength to lariat me straight up into the air? A man who clearly didn’t have half the body mass of a pro wrestler!
I got my nearly convulsing lungs under control and took focus on the approaching shadow.
Damn
, eyes foggy. My vision was unclear.
The shadow of Shizuo Heiwajima stood over me, speaking softly.
“The reason I was turning around to leave…”
His voice was indeed quiet—and chilling. Some people had voices of ice. The man named Izaya that I met a day before had one of those. But the chilling edge to Shizuo Heiwajima’s voice was something else entirely.
If Izaya had the kind of chill that froze his listener, this one was enough to cause frostbite. No, frostbite was too gentle to describe it. It was like liquid nitrogen boiling, a bubbling something enveloped in pure chill.
“…was because you were asking stupid questions, and I was about to snap.”
The voice was the same one that belonged to the man just moments ago. But the temperature of the voice was completely different. Before now, they’d been just words—there was no inflection to them in any way…
“See, I was leaving to make sure that I didn’t end up killing you.”
Now there was strength in his words.
It wasn’t like he was speaking words of power. There was no real meaning to what he said. But was it possible to strike fear in another person just with a tone of voice? Even that fact alone terrified me.
Finally, my vision was recovering from the shock of the blow.
My eyes found the man standing in front of me. It was undoubtedly the same man I had been standing with just moments before.
It was the same man…
…but…strange…why did his sunglasses seem to suit him now?
Those odd, out-of-place shades were now a perfectly natural feature of his face.
The shape and bridge of his nose hadn’t changed; neither had his hair. He wasn’t wearing a particularly different expression. The onlything that seemed to have changed from moments ago was the slight smile playing on his lips. But that smile itself had no effect on the look of the glasses.
It was the air.
The air around him seemed to have changed. There was no other wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-way-wa-wa-way-wa-wa-wa-wa-way-way-way-way-way-way-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-way-way-way-way-wa-wa-way-way-wa-way-wa-way-way-way-way-way-way-way-way—
“Who said you could go to sleep?”
He grabbed my collar, and for an instant I couldn’t breathe. When he lifted me off of the ground, all I could feel was his incredible,
My head’s going to be torn off.
That was actually what I felt. At that very moment, I felt sure my head would tear off—the same way you might feel that having the Grim Reaper’s scythe pressed to your neck means your head would be cut off. It was due to the powerful shock and the centrifugal force of being pushed backward.
A lariat.
He hit me with one of the most basic pro wrestling moves in the book.
Some people watching it on TV might think that the lariat does less damage than a good punch or a German suplex. Some might even claim that anyone suffering heavy damage from a lariat had to be throwing the match.
But that would be a mistake. I once accompanied a writer from the sports page on his beat and got to try out being hit by a wrestling move. I chose the lariat, hoping for the least painful move possible.
The wrestler couldn’t have been using even half of his full strength. But I fell hard onto the ring and passed out. It was less the damage of the fall than the powerful impact of that arm.
That prior experience was possibly the only reason I could even identify that it was a lariat I’d just suffered.
But there was one thing I couldn’t quite buy yet. How did the skinny man I was seeing have the strength to lariat me straight up into the air? A man who clearly didn’t have half the body mass of a pro wrestler!
I got my nearly convulsing lungs under control and took focus on the approaching shadow.
Damn
, eyes foggy. My vision was unclear.
The shadow of Shizuo Heiwajima stood over me, speaking softly.
“The reason I was turning around to leave…”
His voice was indeed quiet—and chilling. Some people had voices of ice. The man named Izaya that I met a day before had one of those. But the chilling edge to Shizuo Heiwajima’s voice was something else entirely.
If Izaya had the kind of chill that froze his listener, this one was enough to cause frostbite. No, frostbite was too gentle to describe it. It was like liquid nitrogen boiling, a bubbling something enveloped in pure chill.
“…was because you were asking stupid questions, and I was about to snap.”
The voice was the same one that belonged to the man just moments ago. But the temperature of the voice was completely different. Before now, they’d been just words—there was no inflection to them in any way…
“See, I was leaving to make sure that I didn’t end up killing you.”
Now there was strength in his words.
It wasn’t like he was speaking words of power. There was no real meaning to what he said. But was it possible to strike fear in another person just with a tone of voice? Even that fact alone terrified me.
Finally, my vision was recovering from the shock of the blow.
My eyes found the man standing in front of me. It was undoubtedly the same man I had been standing with just moments before.
It was the same man…
…but…strange…why did his sunglasses seem to suit him now?
Those odd, out-of-place shades were now a perfectly natural feature of his face.
The shape and bridge of his nose hadn’t changed; neither had his hair. He wasn’t wearing a particularly different expression. The onlything that seemed to have changed from moments ago was the slight smile playing on his lips. But that smile itself had no effect on the look of the glasses.
It was the air.
The air around him seemed to have changed. There was no other wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-way-wa-wa-way-wa-wa-wa-wa-way-way-way-way-way-way-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-way-way-way-way-wa-wa-way-way-wa-way-wa-way-way-way-way-way-way-way-way—
“Who said you could go to sleep?”
He grabbed my collar, and for an instant I couldn’t breathe. When he lifted me off of the ground, all I could feel was his incredible,
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