Durarara!!, Vol. 2 (novel) by Ryohgo Narita

not even close. But the biggest pain in the ass would have to be Shizuo Heiwajima, I’d say.”
    The man started describing Orihara, but when informed that I’d already met him, he launched straight into Shizuo’s exploits instead.
    “Once there was a time when the cops were closing in on Izaya Orihara…and they got Shizuo’s name as an accomplice. Shameful as it is to say, the guy in charge of that case got fooled on that one. It wasa frame job. Anyway, they were bringing him in as a minor, and he ended up proving the charges were false, but he got locked up anyway for obstruction of justice and property damage in the process.”
    “Property damage?”
    “I actually thought it sounded far-fetched, but I’ll tell ya… As he kept resisting arrest, what do you suppose he destroyed?”
    “I don’t know… A bicycle? Windshield on a patrol car?”
    “A vending machine.”
    ???
    That one baffled me. Didn’t your average middle school delinquent trash a vending machine with a baseball bat? All these stories built the guy up to be a monster, but it sounded like your run-of-the-mill street vandalism.
    But what he said next had me at a complete loss for words.
    “He threw it.”
    “Huh?”
    “He
threw the vending machine
—at a cop car!”

    Interesting.
    Very, very interesting.
    When I asked people around town who the strongest person in Ikebukuro was, I got a whole variety of answers. But when I asked the same question to the various “strong” people mentioned, they all spoke of the same man.
    Shizuo Heiwajima.
    If everything they said was true, I’d never heard of a guy who lived up to his name less. There was no hint of the “peace” and “tranquillity” from the kanji characters in his name.
    But how was it possible that the random people I met who claimed to be in the know didn’t actually hear about these Shizuo rumors? I began to wonder about that and turned back to contact some of the first people I asked.
    Every single one of these well-connected people, when asked about Shizuo, had the same answer.
    “I didn’t want to get involved with him.”
    Simple as that.
    And now I was attempting to meet with that very monster.
    I could tell that my inner boy was knock-kneed with excitement at seeing this guy in the flesh. But the adult me was trembling with nothing but fear.
    It was a strange sensation that filled me as I stood before the small building. It was the kind of place that had a vibrant, constant flow of tenants in and out. There was no sign outside.
    “You the dude who wants to see Shizuo?”
    A man came out of the building. His tanned skin and dreadlocked hair suited him well, and his face made him look like a host in a nightclub. He wore typical street fashion clothes, which made it hard to gauge what he did for a living.
    “He’s upstairs, so he’ll come down if you want…but don’t you dare piss him off.”
    “Okay…”
    Despite his obviously Japanese heritage, the man introduced himself as Tom Tanaka. I found out that he was Shizuo’s supervisor at his current job, where they went around collecting fees from members of a dating/hookup website.
    I didn’t bother asking if the site was legal or not. Usually my interest would run straight to that topic, but Shizuo Heiwajima was a far more pressing matter at this point.
    Now I wasn’t just exuding curiosity, I was gushing it.
    “Seriously, don’t piss him off. It’s a huge pain in the ass,” Tom repeated.
    I’d heard about Heiwajima’s dangerous nature from many different people at this point. But the more times the same thing got repeated, the more I felt like I was being treated like an idiot.
    “Here’s my advice: Don’t talk. Ask what you want to ask, then shut up and look like an idiot while Shizuo talks. Wrap it up with a simple ‘thank you very much,’ and even Shizuo shouldn’t be too angry with you.”
    What was that supposed to mean? If I didn’t talk, I couldn’t askwhat I needed to ask. It was the role of