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

troubling development. If I wrote up an article proclaiming this fellow as the strongest man in Ikebukuro and anyone saw him in real life, I would look like a flat-out liar.
    At this point, there was only one choice left to me: I had to assume that he possessed some hidden power that he was sealing away from me at the moment. It seemed too silly to be true, but I couldn’t possibly get into the mind-set of the interview unless I told myself that.
    Hey, maybe I should find some way to work that hidden power out of him.
    Half-desperate now, I held my external agitation in check to speak to the man. At first I’d been planning to move over to a café for the interview, but I no longer had the patience or consideration.
    “Well…there are two or three things I’d like to ask you, Shizuo…”
    “’Kay,” he grunted.
    Was he really that tough at fighting? I felt I could probably take him myself. I’d put myself in danger a number of times on assignment. I’d investigated shady bars, been threatened by street thugs, and even been surrounded by foreign mobsters.
    I’d made my way around some dangerous fights, even if it hadn’t been through actual fighting prowess. I had courage to spare.
    “I’ve heard lots of stories about you, Shizuo… Are you often involved in fights and confrontations?”
    “Um…no?”
    He had a look on his face that said,
Why would you even ask that?
    “Really?”
    “Actually, I detest violence.”
    Oh, brother, are you kidding me? The guy’s a dud.
    My inner boy went right to sleep. The human instincts within me no longer felt any kind of fear or expectation toward the man.
    I was ready to wrap this interview up, so I finished as quickly as I could.
    “What do you think of the town these days?”
    “Not much… It’s a nice place.”
    “I hear you know the famous Headless Rider.”
    “Celty? Yeah, Celty’s great.”
    Fine…so he
was
the man the Black Rider mentioned after all. But the problem was that the rider had stated that this was the strongest man in Ikebukuro…
    Just as I was about to ask about that, the man spun around on his heel and started walking back into the building.
    “H-huh? Where are you…?”
    “…That’s it, right?”
    “Huh?”
    “You said you had ‘two or three questions,’ didn’t you? Well, I answered three, and I have nothing more to say.”
    …Are you kidding me? What is he talking about?
    Did he take that literally? Must be a by-the-book type of guy.
    At any rate, I needed more than this.
    I decided my best chance at drawing out the conversation was to challenge him a little.
    “Okay, just one more. They say you fought with the police and threw a vending machine…but that’s not true, is it?”
    “…”
    “Izaya just tricked you into—”
    Flew.
    Flew?
    …What flew?
    At first, I couldn’t tell what flew.
    Shizuo Heiwajima turned around and flew with terrific force.
    Where? Above? In front?
    No. Below.
    Everything in my field of vision was happening in slow motion.
    Oh, wait. It wasn’t just Shizuo Heiwajima that went flying.
    So was the building he came out of, and the asphalt base, and all the air surrounding it—
    I get it.
    I understood at once—I just didn’t want to admit it.
    I was the one flying.
    He sent not just my body, but my wits flying as well.
    A shock ran through my back, telling me that I’d fallen back onto the ground.
    “…! Uh—! Aghk…gah…”
    I gurgled weakly as both intense pain and numbness fought over my body. My brain scrambled to process what had happened.
    The moment Shizuo Heiwajima turned back, I felt a tremendous impact on my throat, and the next instant I was in the air.
    It was like being on a launcher-style roller coaster that shot me backward. The only thing I felt in that brief instant was…what I assumed was Shizuo Heiwajima’s arm muscle.
    But—was that truly muscle?
    It was more like the tire of a dump truck, shrunk down to a small enough size that it could catch me around the neck. A