“I mean, I can accept who I am now, right?” he said, clenching his fists with enjoyment.
“I can like myself for what I am, right?” he said, his eyes wide with bliss as he tucked his sunglasses into his pocket.
“This power I’ve tried and tried and tried to get rid of, because I hated it so, so, so much… But now it’s okay for me to accept it, right? It’s okay for me to use it, right?
“I can—I can finally use my full power, right?”
And in the next instant, for the first time in his life, Shizuo Heiwajima willingly used all of his power. Not in the grips of rage, like always…
But out of joy that something loved his power.
What he said next plunged the Saikas into despair.
“Oh, just for the record…people like y’all are not, at all, even the slightest, my type of partner.
“The one thing I can say for you…is that I only hate you second most after Izaya.”
Fairly close to the park, on an isolated, empty road, a man and woman were speaking of love.
The man, his rejection of it. The woman, her overflowing abundance…
“Hey…do you remember?” she said quietly, as the man sat at the side of the road in terror.
They were standing in the darkened midpoint between streetlight and streetlight, and an eerie tone dominated the scene. The woman who was the source of that aura was smiling so radiantly that tears brimmed in her eyes as she spoke of her love.
“The first time I met you, when you saved me from being bullied… You helped me with lots of things after that, didn’t you?”
She was staring right into the memories of her past as she talked. On the other hand, the man saw her face as nothing more than a source of terror.
If you ignored the red eyes, she was quite a pretty girl, and he was the kind of rough-looking man who could be found roaming the streets anywhere. In most cases, you would expect their roles to be reversed.
But the man was terrified of her and didn’t pay a single bit of attention to what she was saying.
“Ever since then, you’ve been the only thing on my mind… You noticed that, didn’t you? That’s why you returned my love. You gave in and accepted me. You even did me the courtesy of using me to make money, then tried to get rid of me when you grew tired of it. I accepted all of these things you did to me. I forgave you and I still loved you.”
“H…hyaaa…”
“But eventually, it wasn’t enough… I wanted more than that… That’s when Saika started talking to me.”
With the reflection of the knife glinting in her eyes, the woman drew the blade lightly along her own arm. A line appeared on her white flesh, little red droplets forming from the aperture.
“All I had to do was give her a little blood—drop by drop. See?”
“Hyeep!”
The girl’s eyes stared right at the terrified, prone man, but her mind was somewhere far, far away. His figure did not reflect in her eyes. She was watching a fantasy of the man that existed only in their honeymoon period.
“So how about today…? Is today the day you’ll finally accept my love?” she asked, bringing the knife close to the man’s throat.
Slowly.
So slowly.
Like a child taking her very first kiss.
The silver blade was ready to plunge into the man,
making their bodies and minds one through the knife,
tearing his mind and body apart, exposing all of him…
“Aaaaahhh! W-wait, please wait!”
He flopped his legs, trying to push her away and put distance between them, but the stone wall blocked his back. The way he continued to flop despite the lack of any ground to gain was exceedingly pathetic, but the girl wasn’t seeing him anymore.
She put her strength into the knife. She had reached the limit of her patience.
“Wait!”
The moment she was about to jab her beloved with the knife that was an extension of herself, a familiar voice came from somewhere behind her.
When she realized that her process had been interrupted, the girl’s world suddenly fell apart. She and the man were not two abstract characters living in a fantasy, but two real human beings named Haruna Niekawa and Takashi Nasujima. Suddenly, she was seeing Nasujima’s pathetic, frantic attempt to reject her.
“…”
Realizing that she’d “awakened” from the world of love, Haruna’s smile vanished entirely at last. She turned toward the voice.
It was Anri, out of breath from running, but with a powerful, intent look in her eyes.
“How did you escape? There were at least five back there,” Haruna said.
Anri didn’t answer. She tried to steady her breathing. “Please…just stop this, Miss Niekawa. Stop hurting people with that knife…”
“This has nothing to do with you. You just don’t want to die, is that it?”
“Yes…it does have to do with me…”
“?”
Haruna didn’t know what Anri was talking about, so she assumed that the girl was just in a daze from escaping the other Saikas.
“Listen, Miss Sonohara… Your words carry no power of their own. A weak-willed human being who can only live by leeching off of someone else’s life has no right to dictate what me and Saika’s love should be!” Haruna stated, her words full of pressure. Anri was not intimidated, however.
“I don’t need any right to stop something I think is wrong. Plus…I don’t think the strength of one’s words has anything to do with the way one lives,” she responded, matching the intensity of Haruna’s attack. “Just because I can only live through other people doesn’t make me weak. I chose that way of life. That’s all there is to it.”
“That makes no sense…”
“Don’t decide whether people are weak or strong…based solely on the way they live!” she shouted, overpowering Haruna’s words with her own.
The girl standing there now couldn’t be the same timid creature she’d visited earlier. Haruna was bewildered by the change but had no intention of questioning her about it.
All she had to do was believe in the power of her love—and kill the girl.
An ephemeral silence passed between the two before Haruna spoke again.
“Hey, Miss Sonohara… Have you ever even loved anyone before?”
The smile was back on her face. Anri looked mystified, but her goal here was to convince Haruna to stop what she was doing, so she had to engage the question.
“…Probably n—”
“I have!” Haruna blurted out, ignoring the other girl’s answer. “When Saika first spoke to me, I almost let this one take over my body…but then it started telling me I had to cut Takashi. I cannot hurt the man I love so much! So I resisted, I fought back…”
As she spoke, she swung her arms. The reflection of the knife glimmered in the darkness, bringing the strength of her conviction to life.
“…And instead, I conquered the demon blade! I conquered Saika! With the power of love! The power of love!”
“Huh? But…you were trying to stab him just now…”
“Yes. At first, I thought what Saika was telling me was wrong. But the more I listened to her…the more I realized she was right. Controlling another person…planting yourself entirely within the deepest part of their heart is the true form of everlasting love.”
Her eyes, which were already overpowering in their redness, took on the tint of madness that only heightened the eerie awfulness of the scene.
“Even if that ultimately means killing the one you love.”
That was the signal.
Haruna crouched low, set her sights on Anri’s throat, and put all of her might into the purpose of killing her foe. Quick action usually led to victory, but even if she didn’t strike first, what was there to fear from a single unarmed girl?
“There will be no rescue for you this time. You don’t have the strength to love another—you cannot stop me. There’s only so far you
can get on sheer arrogance!”
She began to charge at Anri. The girl started to open her mouth, but Haruna didn’t care. She put all of her effort into the strike that would tear that impertinent throat right open…
A metallic ring cut through the night.
Huh?
Haruna couldn’t tell what had just happened.
All she knew was that what she was seeing far surpassed her understanding.
Anri’s right arm had blocked the slash aimed at her throat.
“What is…happening?”
As a response to that, Anri continued with what she was going to say moments earlier.
“It’s true that I can’t love anyone else. Ever since that day five years ago, I’ve been afraid to open my heart and love.”
She was probably referring to the break-in that ended with the murder of her parents. But what did that have to do with the current situation?
Anri continued. “So I’ve taken to living off of others in order to make up for what I lack in my life. Yes, I admit it… I chose this way of life, after all.”
Her arm was touching the knife. Through the tear in her sleeve could be seen the silver shine of steel.
“Wait…you can’t…”
“So I decided that I would leech off of even the love of others.”
Anri put her left hand to her right wrist and pulled the hilt of the sword that appeared out of her right arm, yanking it free.
The girl had extracted a katana, crackling, from her own arm. Haruna had no words for the scene she had just witnessed.
“Just as you cut other people to create Saika’s children, your own Saika is nothing more than a child of the original… And the original takes the form of a proper katana.”
“No…this can’t be!”
“I cannot love others,” Anri muttered to herself. Her eyes literally shone with a demonic light. “So I decided to rely on Saika, who loves people for me…”
The light in her eyes was eerie, gentle, and warm, as if red fireflies had taken home within them. The light caught the lenses of her glasses, causing them to shine like giant red insect eyes.
“No…I live as her parasite…”
It wasn’t as if the boy never fell in love with a girl.
But when he inevitably failed to control his strength, his attempts to save her did more harm than good.
Not just once. It was a constant occurrence.
Eventually, no one stuck around with him. Even as a grown adult, there was no one in his vicinity. There was only one man, Izaya Orihara—but he only came over to use the boy for his own ends. He was also a man, so there was nothing like love in that equation.
Over time, the boy came to an understanding.
It wasn’t a sudden enlightenment, simply something he learned through constant repetition.
He just wanted to be loved by someone.
But he wasn’t allowed to have love for anyone else.
If he did, he would only hurt them.
Not of his own volition, but certainly of his own strength.
If that strength was meant to protect something, he might have been able to forgive himself. But he knew exactly what the world called that strength.
Violence.
It was a simple matter. As some said, strength could be either violence or justice, depending on how it was used. If that was the case, his strength could be nothing but violence.
The boy was unable to control the sway of his emotions, and he used his strength in anger, in a way that left his own conscious will far, far behind in the dust…
It was strength—pure strength—that took the boy somewhere far away and unfamiliar.
Time passed, and as a man now, he had received words of love from another for the first time.
The man greeted the thing that showered him in pure love…
…with clenched fists.
In the center of the park, Celty Sturluson, a knight of death meant to inform people of their imminent mortality, the Headless Rider who sent waves of panic throughout Ikebukuro…was unable to do a thing but stand and watch.
Not because of the sheer force of a hundred slashers.
When faced with the sight of the red-eyed mob, she had originally thought of the Dollars’ meeting a year ago.
But the result of this incident was the complete opposite of that earlier occasion.
The strength of one man, Shizuo Heiwajima, was absolutely overpowering the hundred attackers.
Shizuo Heiwajima’s style of fighting was exceedingly simple.
Punch.
Kick.
Throw with all your strength.
That’s all it came down to.
Punch, punch, punch.
Kick, kick, kick, punch again.
Throw while kicking backward, spin and throw a punch.
Just the same simple combinations, like hammering a single button in a fighting game.
But that very simplicity was what made it so terrifying.
All he had to do was punch the blade-holding arm of an attacker, and it would cause a nasty crunch and no longer function. A low kick meant to fend off an onrushing person would completely demolish the knee.
When he punched a person, they flew horizontally, like something out of a slapstick comic book.
He didn’t fight with the grace and agility of a Hong Kong action movie. But even still, Celty and the hundred slashers present to see it felt their hearts being stolen by the sight.
He was strong.
That was the only word needed to describe Shizuo.
But if one were to add more, another two words would suffice.
He was scary.
And he was cool.
I mean…I knew he was strong…
…but…this strong?!
If Celty used all of the power at her disposal to produce a deadly shadow scythe and attack Shizuo at this moment, she didn’t think there was a chance she could win. She couldn’t even envision such a scenario.
Fighters all shared a desire to fight those who were stronger than themselves. If she had to classify herself, Celty believed she was in that category rather than the opposite.
But this Shizuo was someone she never wanted to fight.
Not just because of fear.
She couldn’t possibly turn her blade upon something that made such a strong impression on her.
Even the word demon didn’t describe him anymore.
If any term fit Shizuo Heiwajima at this moment, it was more like demon god.
In fact, no words were necessary at all to describe him.
His strength became a word greater than words, telling the rest of the world of his existence.
Shinra had once explained Shizuo’s strength to Celty.
“When muscle fibers are damaged, they grow that much thicker, but his constant rages don’t give his cells any rest.
“So the cells of Shizuo’s body—whether by a miracle or fate—chose a different route. The bundles of muscle fiber abandoned the process of bulking up and chose to stay at their current size, just tougher. That might be one of the reasons why he has such strength while remaining skinny.
“It’s minimal regeneration. Shizuo’s way of life caused his own bones and joints to change the way they grew so they could be stronger. His bones are hard as steel, and his joints are extra tough after endless dislocations. And this all happened within the short life of Shizuo Heiwajima.
“You might call this a kind of miracle.”
A miracle.
But even that word might be too tepid to describe it.
There was no combination of words that Celty could use to adequately describe Shizuo’s strength.
It must be a similar feeling to what would happen if one saw Superman or the protagonist of a shonen manga come to life. It was easy to say anything when viewing the situation objectively, but actually being present for the experience would blow anyone’s worldview out the window.
That was the kind of presence Shizuo ha
d now.
Despite the fact that the slashers’ weapons gave them twice his reach, they couldn’t hit him. The meager advantage of reach was not even a proper handicap against Shizuo.
He dodged their long swings by a hair, then countered by punching either the man holding the weapon or the flat of the blade. When the opponent lost his balance, the finishing kick was already incoming.
The onslaught continued without losing any momentum. Shizuo was joyfully unleashing all of the pent-up frustration that he’d accumulated throughout the evening, and he was going to get rid of all of it.
The hundred-strong Saikas were taken aback by Shizuo’s overwhelming strength, so they held back and shot signals to one another to form more complex combination attacks.
But suddenly, they all moved as one.
Everyone in the park, aside from Shizuo and Celty, turned their heads in the same direction.
The move was as pristine and precise as a champion synchronized swimming team. Their eyes all pointed toward the same spot.
What is it?
Celty turned the same direction herself, but all she saw was the entrance to the park.
Though she couldn’t possibly have known it, at that very moment elsewhere, Anri Sonohara had just pulled Saika out of her arm.
“Hey, is it just me…or is something happening close by?” Shizuo wondered, surprisingly calm given his actions. Celty nodded in agreement. “I can manage this scene here if you don’t mind going and checking it out. Either way, you ain’t doin’ nothin’ here, are you?”
It was a considerate offer. Otherwise, she would have felt uncomfortable leaving Shizuo behind by himself. But in this case, she didn’t think she needed an ounce of worry for his sake.
As a parting gift, she produced more shadow from her hands, fashioning it into a pair of gloves, much like she had with the shadow helmet earlier.
“Special-made like my scythe. They’ll be able to stop a blade,” she typed into her PDA, then tossed the gloves to Shizuo.
Not because she was worried for him. She simply wanted to be a part of the legend that she’d just witnessed.
“…Thanks.”
Durarara!!, Vol. 2 (novel) Page 15