The first thing any normal, sane person in the Ikebukuro district of Tokyo will tell you when you mention Shizuo's name is "If you see that guy, run. Don't look him in the eye, don't talk to him, don't talk loudly around him --just run." And they're right, Heiwajima Shizuo is bad news. Dubbed, quite appropriately, the strongest man in Ikebukuro, Shizuo has strength like you won't even imagine. He can catapult vending machines miles away, literally punch a guy right out of his clothes and to the other end of the street, and rip signboards out of their cement foundation like one would pluck a flower. The weirdest thing? He is 100%, no-mistake-about-it, human. His biological composition is just like that of everyone else in the series, but there is one very important factor that makes that huge difference in power.
You know how you always hear those stories in the news about people performing great feats when met with drastic conditions? Turns out the human body is much more amazing than we give it credit for, huh? This is explained in the series as the 'natural strength' of a human being, which the brain restricts to prevent people from doing crazy-ass things that might potentially destroy their body. It is only during dangerous situations that this strength is unlocked because it's needed. Shizuo was born with a weird condition, though. It appears that his brain doesn't restrict this natural strength at all, and he can use it whenever he damn well pleases; with a no-strain, no-pain guarantee. (For that moment alone, anyway.)
This, coupled with his very apparent anger management issues, make for a pretty deadly combination. The first incident was in elementary school, when he snapped and tried to throw a fridge at his brother over a trivial pudding dispute. Don't get me wrong here; Shizuo loves Kasuka. The two of them share a very sweet brotherly bond, and were inseparable during their younger years. Why, however, would he try to kill him then? And why over something as small as pudding? Surely, most people might bristle a bit first, then shrug it off, right? That's most people. Shizuo has a huge problem. Whenever he gets angry --even the slightest bit annoyed-- he loses all control of his body and goes into a murderous rampage. And who bears the brunt of all this uncontrolled rage? Why, those two kids who made fun of him in class, of course. Or perhaps that kid who stole bread from him in the canteen? Quite frankly, anyone stupid enough to irritate him --whether intentionally or not-- would end up with some part of the town flying straight at them.
Now, there's a reason why the brain restricts this monstrous strength, and Shizuo soon learned this reason. With each sign post he ripped out, each motorcycle he overturned, and each person he sent flying; more and more of his bones and muscles, unable to withstand the weight yet being forced to overexert themselves by a guy who somehow felt little to no strain, fractured and tore. His trips to the hospital become more and more frequent, until he was virtually always seen with a cast or bandage wrapped around some part of his body.
The first thing any normal, sane person in the Ikebukuro district of Tokyo will tell you when you mention Shizuo's name is "If you see that guy, run. Don't look him in the eye, don't talk to him, don't talk loudly around him --just run." And they're right, Heiwajima Shizuo is bad news. Dubbed, quite appropriately, the strongest man in Ikebukuro, Shizuo has strength like you won't even imagine. He can catapult vending machines miles away, literally punch a guy right out of his clothes and to the other end of the street, and rip signboards out of their cement foundation like one would pluck a flower. The weirdest thing? He is 100%, no-mistake-about-it, human. His biological composition is just like that of everyone else in the series, but there is one very important factor that makes that huge difference in power.
You know how you always hear those stories in the news about people performing great feats when met with drastic conditions? Turns out the human body is much more amazing than we give it credit for, huh? This is explained in the series as the 'natural strength' of a human being, which the brain restricts to prevent people from doing crazy-ass things that might potentially destroy their body. It is only during dangerous situations that this strength is unlocked because it's needed. Shizuo was born with a weird condition, though. It appears that his brain doesn't restrict this natural strength at all, and he can use it whenever he damn well pleases; with a no-strain, no-pain guarantee. (For that moment alone, anyway.)
This, coupled with his very apparent anger management issues, make for a pretty deadly combination. The first incident was in elementary school, when he snapped and tried to throw a fridge at his brother over a trivial pudding dispute. Don't get me wrong here; Shizuo loves Kasuka. The two of them share a very sweet brotherly bond, and were inseparable during their younger years. Why, however, would he try to kill him then? And why over something as small as pudding? Surely, most people might bristle a bit first, then shrug it off, right? That's most people. Shizuo has a huge problem. Whenever he gets angry --even the slightest bit annoyed-- he loses all control of his body and goes into a murderous rampage. And who bears the brunt of all this uncontrolled rage? Why, those two kids who made fun of him in class, of course. Or perhaps that kid who stole bread from him in the canteen? Quite frankly, anyone stupid enough to irritate him --whether intentionally or not-- would end up with some part of the town flying straight at them.
Now, there's a reason why the brain restricts this monstrous strength, and Shizuo soon learned this reason. With each sign post he ripped out, each motorcycle he overturned, and each person he sent flying; more and more of his bones and muscles, unable to withstand the weight yet being forced to overexert themselves by a guy who somehow felt little to no strain, fractured and tore. His trips to the hospital become more and more frequent, until he was virtually always seen with a cast or bandage wrapped around some part of his body.
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