Read Online Durarara!!, Vol. 2 (novel) by Ryohgo Narita - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ryohgo Narita
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction
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monstrous strength.
I was scared.
At this point, I was jealous of scared the disappointed scared me from scared a minute ago. If the scared man scared here scared was scared truly scared that scared weak, scared scared scared how lucky scared scared I scared scared scared would scared scared scared be scared scaredscaredscaredscaredscaredhelpscaredscaredhelpscaredscaredhelpscaredhelphelphelphelphelpohshitshitshithelpshitshithelpscaredI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry—
Every part of my body screamed in terror.
“Were you actually trying to piss me off? Huh? I’m not an idiot, you know. I can tell that much. But just because I understand it doesn’t mean I won’t get pissed off…”
There was no time for my boyish curiosity to open his eyes or my instincts to scream.
“So I give in to the provocation and get mad, I lose? Fine, I lose then. That’s all right. Because I don’t stand to suffer for losing this one, do I? Besides, you won, and your reward is that I kill you…”
That was the moment.
“Aaaaaa
aaaa
aaaa
aaaa
aaaa!”
The scream sounded.
Not from me.
I was unable to speak, paralyzed with fear.
The howl that echoed off the alleyway was from Shizuo Heiwajima himself.
The liquid nitrogen suddenly transformed into boiling oil, spitting all of the rage stored inside his body outward.
“Raaaah!
I told you, I hate violence!
Didn’t I?!
And now you forced me to get violent!
Who do you think you are? God? You think you’re God?! Huh?!”
That’s not fair
, I started to think, before I was flying again.
It was not a proper judo throw. That would involve some element of technique. There was none here.
He just picked me up and threw me forward, the same way one would throw a baseball.
I’d never done it, of course, but I could imagine a strong person being able to throw a toddler this way. But I weighed many, many times more than that—possibly more than Shizuo Heiwajima himself, in fact.
So how was I flying virtually horizontal?
If this were an American cartoon, I’d crash into the wall of the building across the way and leave a human-shaped hole behind. It certainly felt like there was enough force for that, but in reality, after just a few yards of flight, I crashed to the ground and rolled across the asphalt.
Is he going to kill me?
I wondered, my mind suddenly calm now that the fear had been eradicated by the force of his throw.
I didn’t want to die.
But he was going to kill me.
Once that logical calculation was finished, the fear began creeping back into my heart.
But at that moment, a voice of salvation came down from above.
“Hey, Shizuo.”
I recognized that voice. It belonged to Tom Tanaka, the man who showed me here.
“…What is it, Tom?”
“Remember that cup of instant ramen you opened? It’s been three minutes.”
“…Seriously?”
And just like that, Shizuo Heiwajima was shockingly uninterested in me. He reentered the building as if nothing had just happened.
So he never meant to speak to me for more than three minutes to begin with.
But that didn’t matter now.
All I wanted to do was savor the joy of being alive.
A little while later, Tanaka emerged from the building and came over to where I was lying.
“Well, there you go. Warned you not to piss him off, didn’t I? Lucky for you, while his boiling point is low, he’s also quick to cool off. I hope you learned your lesson and aren’t stupid enough to go to the cops about this.”
Though it didn’t make perfect sense, I decided to nod my understanding. Satisfied, Tom turned back and went into the building.
All alone now, I rolled over to face the sky, limbs outstretched. It wasn’t that I wanted to savor the sensation of stretching out in the middle of the street—I was just in too much pain to stand yet.
Even as I gave thanks for my safety, I was stunned to realize just how powerful that instantaneous fear had been.
When I was surrounded by the foreign mafia, the fear was
I was scared.
At this point, I was jealous of scared the disappointed scared me from scared a minute ago. If the scared man scared here scared was scared truly scared that scared weak, scared scared scared how lucky scared scared I scared scared scared would scared scared scared be scared scaredscaredscaredscaredscaredhelpscaredscaredhelpscaredscaredhelpscaredhelphelphelphelphelpohshitshitshithelpshitshithelpscaredI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry—
Every part of my body screamed in terror.
“Were you actually trying to piss me off? Huh? I’m not an idiot, you know. I can tell that much. But just because I understand it doesn’t mean I won’t get pissed off…”
There was no time for my boyish curiosity to open his eyes or my instincts to scream.
“So I give in to the provocation and get mad, I lose? Fine, I lose then. That’s all right. Because I don’t stand to suffer for losing this one, do I? Besides, you won, and your reward is that I kill you…”
That was the moment.
“Aaaaaa
aaaa
aaaa
aaaa
aaaa!”
The scream sounded.
Not from me.
I was unable to speak, paralyzed with fear.
The howl that echoed off the alleyway was from Shizuo Heiwajima himself.
The liquid nitrogen suddenly transformed into boiling oil, spitting all of the rage stored inside his body outward.
“Raaaah!
I told you, I hate violence!
Didn’t I?!
And now you forced me to get violent!
Who do you think you are? God? You think you’re God?! Huh?!”
That’s not fair
, I started to think, before I was flying again.
It was not a proper judo throw. That would involve some element of technique. There was none here.
He just picked me up and threw me forward, the same way one would throw a baseball.
I’d never done it, of course, but I could imagine a strong person being able to throw a toddler this way. But I weighed many, many times more than that—possibly more than Shizuo Heiwajima himself, in fact.
So how was I flying virtually horizontal?
If this were an American cartoon, I’d crash into the wall of the building across the way and leave a human-shaped hole behind. It certainly felt like there was enough force for that, but in reality, after just a few yards of flight, I crashed to the ground and rolled across the asphalt.
Is he going to kill me?
I wondered, my mind suddenly calm now that the fear had been eradicated by the force of his throw.
I didn’t want to die.
But he was going to kill me.
Once that logical calculation was finished, the fear began creeping back into my heart.
But at that moment, a voice of salvation came down from above.
“Hey, Shizuo.”
I recognized that voice. It belonged to Tom Tanaka, the man who showed me here.
“…What is it, Tom?”
“Remember that cup of instant ramen you opened? It’s been three minutes.”
“…Seriously?”
And just like that, Shizuo Heiwajima was shockingly uninterested in me. He reentered the building as if nothing had just happened.
So he never meant to speak to me for more than three minutes to begin with.
But that didn’t matter now.
All I wanted to do was savor the joy of being alive.
A little while later, Tanaka emerged from the building and came over to where I was lying.
“Well, there you go. Warned you not to piss him off, didn’t I? Lucky for you, while his boiling point is low, he’s also quick to cool off. I hope you learned your lesson and aren’t stupid enough to go to the cops about this.”
Though it didn’t make perfect sense, I decided to nod my understanding. Satisfied, Tom turned back and went into the building.
All alone now, I rolled over to face the sky, limbs outstretched. It wasn’t that I wanted to savor the sensation of stretching out in the middle of the street—I was just in too much pain to stand yet.
Even as I gave thanks for my safety, I was stunned to realize just how powerful that instantaneous fear had been.
When I was surrounded by the foreign mafia, the fear was
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