Battle Royale

14

Their first night broke into a bright dawn.

Shuya Nanahara looked up and watched the blue sky gradually turning white through the thicket. The branches and leaves of oak, camellia, some kind of cherry, and other kinds of trees wove an intricate net around them and hid them.

Shuya realized several things as he reexamined the map. The island was roughly diamond shaped. The hills rose upward on the south and north end of the island. They were now located at the south side of the northern mountain, near the slope on its west side. According to the map coordinates, the location seemed to be in sector C-4. Along with contour lines, the map was detailed, including the residential area and other houses (indicated by light blue dots), various buildings (there wasn’t much besides symbols indicating a medical clinic, a fire station, and a lighthouse—and then a town hall, a fishermen’s coop, that was about it), and roads small and large, allowing him to check where each area was according to the positions of land formations, roads, and scattered houses.

At night he’d already confirmed as soon as they were higher up the hill that the map faithfully represented this island. Silhouettes of islands, large and small, were scattered across the black sea—and as Sakamochi had said, there was (almost exactly west of the island) the silhouette of what appeared to be a guard ship with its lights turned off.

Immediately west of where Shuya and Noriko were, the grove ended abruptly and was replaced by a steep slope. There was a small field below, and beyond it the slope continued on toward the ocean. There was a small shack with a raised floor in the middle of the field that they had passed through last night. Seeing the worn out wooden Shinto archway ten meters away from the shack, Shuya assumed it was a shrine (which was also marked on the map). The front door was open, and there was no one inside.

Just as he had with the other houses, Shuya decided against hiding in this shrine. There might be others doing the same thing… and given how there was only one entrance, they’d be trapped the moment they were found.

Shuya settled on a place surrounded by shrubbery relatively near the sea, where they could lie down and rest. Higher up the hill the shrubbery seemed thicker, but he thought that would also attract others, and in case they met someone who turned out to be an enemy, he thought they were better off somewhere not too steep, where it was hard to run. After all Noriko’s leg was injured.

Shuya sat down against a tree, which was approximately ten centimeters wide. Noriko sat immediately to his left. She leaned against the tree, her injured right leg limply stretched out. They were completely exhausted by now. Noriko slowly closed her eyes.

Shuya discussed their course of action with Noriko, but they couldn’t come up with much.

He first thought of finding a boat to escape from the island. But he immediately realized how futile that’d be. There was a guard ship out at sea and furthermore—

Shuya slowly reached for his neck and touched the cold surface of “that thing.” He’d gotten used to the sensation, but it felt heavy, as if it were their inescapable fate itself, choking out their existence.

Yes—that collar.

Once a special signal is transmitted from the school, the bomb inside the collar explodes. According to rules this would happen to anyone caught in a forbidden zone, but of course the same would apply to anyone attempting to escape by sea. In fact these collars rendered those guard ships unnecessary. Even if they managed to find a boat, it was impossible for them to escape as long as these collars were on their necks.

The only way out was for them to attack Sakamochi at the school and disable the collar locks. But even with that, the G-7 sector where the school was located had become a forbidden zone since the game started, so it was impossible to approach it. Besides, their locations were constantly being monitored.

He continued to think this through while the area was lit up by morning. It would be dangerous for them to move in the sunlight. He thought they should wait again for nightfall.

But here again there was another problem, the time limit. “If no one dies within twenty-four hours.” The last time Shuya saw someone die was when he left the school, which was over three hours ago. If everyone remained alive, in a little more than twenty hours everyone would be dead. Even if they made an attempt to escape, by nightfall it might be too late to get their act together. Ironically, more classmates dying would buy them more time to survive. Shuya tried to shake this thought off.

They were trapped.

Shuya kept on wishing, if only they could meet up with Shinji Mimura. With his wide range of knowledge and accompanying broad expertise to apply it, a guy like Shinji could come up with a solution to their situation.

He also kept on regretting not taking the risk of waiting for Shinji after Yoshio Akamatsu’s attack. Did I really do the right thing? Would I have been attacked as an enemy there? Maybe Yoshio Akamatsu had been the only exception.

No… that wasn’t necessarily true. There might be a lot more “enemies.” It was impossible to determine who your enemy was in the first place. Who was still normal and who wasn’t anymore? But—maybe we’re the ones who aren’t being normal anymore? Maybe we’re insane?

He felt like he was going crazy.

In the end we have no choice but to sit here and see what’ll happen. But will we come up with a solution? If that doesn’t work, we can wait until night to look for Shinji Mimura—but will we even be able to do that? Even though the island was small, with a diameter of six kilometers, finding someone under these conditions wouldn’t be easy. Besides, will we even have enough time between nightfall and the “expiration time”?

Furthermore—let’s assume by some stroke of luck (what an expression) we end up hooking up with Shinji, or it’s just the two of us, and we somehow manage to escape , we would be considered fugitives. Unless we emigrate somewhere, we’ll spend the rest of our lives as fugitives. And then one day we’ll end up being assassinated by a government agent in some abandoned alley, leaving our bodies for the fat mice that come out and nibble at our fingers—

In the end… you might be better off going crazy.

Shuya thought of Yoshitoki Kuninobu. He was shaken by Yoshitoki’s death, but maybe Yoshitoki was better off insofar as he didn’t have to experience this insanity. This situation that seemed absolutely hopeless.

We might be better off committing suicide. Would Noriko agree to killing ourselves?

Shuya glanced over at her and for the first time closely observed Noriko’s profile in the peaceful, dawning light.

She had well defined eyebrows, eyelashes soft against her closed eyes, a cute nose with its flat tip, and full lips. She was a very cute girl. He could see why Yoshitoki had a crush on her.

Now there was sand stuck to her face, and her hair hanging slightly past her shoulders was frayed. And—of course the collar. The gaudy silver collar wrapped around her neck as if she were a slave from ancient times.

This damn game was taking away all her attractive qualities.

Shuya then suddenly felt a surge of incredible anger. And with it, he came to his senses.

We won’t lose. We’ll survive. Not only that, we’ll fight back. It won’t be some lame-ass counter-punch. They come with a straight right punch, and I’ll wail back at them with a baseball bat.

Noriko opened her eyes. Their eyes met and they stared at each other. Then Noriko quietly said, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… well, I was thinking.”

Shuya was embarrassed, because he’d been staring at Noriko, and she’d caught him doing this, so he just blurted out, “I know this sounds weird, but I just hope you’re not thinking of committing suicide.”

Noriko looked down, her face ambiguous, forming what might have been a smile. Then she said, “No way! Although…”

“Although what?”

Noriko thought for a moment. Then she continued, “I might want to commit suicide if we were the only ones left. Then at least you would be…”

Astonished, Shuya shook his head. He shook it frantically. He had mentioned the idea randomly. He didn’t expect her to respond like this.

“Don’t be absurd. Don’t you even think of it. Look, you and me, we’re together to the very end. No matter what. All right?”

Noriko smiled a little, offered her right hand, and touched Shuya’s left hand. “Thanks,” she said.

“Look, we’re going to make it. Don’t even think of dying.”

Noriko smiled a little again. Then she said, “You haven’t given up then, Shuya?”

Shuya nodded with some force. “Of course not.”

Noriko nodded and said, “I’ve always thought this, but you’ve always had this positive force.”

“Positive force?”

Noriko smiled. “I don’t know how to say this but you have this positive attitude about living. Like right now you’re totally determined to live. And…” She still had a faint smile on her face as she looked directly at him. “That’s what I really like about you.”

Shuya felt a tinge of embarrassment and replied, “That’s because I’m an idiot.” Then he said, “Even if we could escape, you know, I mean it wouldn’t matter to me, because I don’t have any parents. But, you… you won’t be able to see your mother or your father—or your brother. Would you be all right with that?”

Noriko smiled a little again. “I can deal with that—I made up my mind ever since… this game began.” She paused, then added, “What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

Noriko continued, “You won’t be able to see her anymore…”

Shuya hesitated. It was true, Noriko knew a lot about Shuya. As Noriko herself said, “I’ve been watching you for so long now.”

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t matter. He’d been so into Kazumi Shintani all this time. The thought of never seeing her again was—

But Shuya shook his head, “It’s not a big deal.” He thought of adding, “It was just a one-way crush anyway,” but he was interrupted by the sudden blare of Sakamochi’s voice ringing through the air.

15

“Good morning everyone.”

It was Sakamochi’s voice. The speakers were impossible to locate, but his voice came through loud and clear, aside from some metallic distortion. The speakers were probably installed not only in the school but also all over the island.

“This is your instructor Sakamochi. It is now 6 a.m. How are you all doing?”

Before he could grimace, Shuya’s jaw dropped, astonished by Sakamochi’s cheerful tone.

“Well then, I will now announce the names of your dead friends. First, Yoshio Akamatsu.”

Shuya’s cheeks stiffened. Yes, it was another death, but the announcement of Yoshio’s name also meant more to Shuya.

Yoshio Akamatsu wasn’t dead at that moment. Then— was he killed in an attempt to kill someone else? Or, no, did he remain unconscious, lying there… and then blown to bits by this nice collar we’re wearing because the school was now a “forbidden zone”?

Regardless, the fact that Shuya had knocked him out didn’t make him feel very good. This line of thought immediately evaporated though, with the announcement of other names of the dead.

“Next, No. 9 Hiroshi Kuronaga, No. 10 Ryuhei Sasagawa, No. 17 Mitsuru Numai, No. 21 Kazuhiko Yamamoto. And then, let’s see, the girls. No. 3 Megumi Eto, No. 4 Sakura Ogawa, No. 5 Izumi Kanai, No. 14 Mayumi Tendo.”

This list of names meant that their chances of survival were slightly increased, but this thought didn’t even occur to Shuya. He felt dizzy. The faces of his dead classmates drifted through his head and disappeared. They were all killed, which meant that there were killers out there. Unless some of them had committed suicide.

It was continuing. The game was undeniably in progress. A long funeral procession, a crowd of people wearing black. A man in a black suit with a somber know-it-all face addressed them, “Oh, Shuya Nanahara and Noriko Nakagawa? You two, that’s right, you’re a little early. But you did just pass by your own graves right here. We carved in the number you two share, No. 15. Don’t worry, we’re offering a special bonus.”

“Good going everyone. I’m very impressed. Now then, the forbidden zones. I will announce their areas and times. Take out your maps and mark them.”

Still shocked by the number of dead classmates and angered by Sakamochi’s tone of voice, Shuya nonetheless reluctantly pulled out his map.

“First, an hour from now. At seven. 7 a.m. in sector J-2. Get out of J-2 by 7 a.m. Got that?”

J-2 was slightly to the west of the southern tip of the island.

“Next, in three hours, F-1 at 9 a.m.”

F-1 was on the west shore of the island, but it was a remote area in the south.

“Next, five hours later. H-8 at 11 a.m.”

Most of the residential area on the eastern shore was in H-8.

“That’s all for now. Now then, I want you all to do your best today—”

Shuya and Noriko’s location wasn’t in Sakamochi’s forbidden zones. Sakamochi claimed the zones were randomly selected. In any case, they’d made the right move avoiding the residential area. But their location could be included in the next announcement.

“Sakura and…” As Noriko spoke, Shuya turned to her. “Sakura and Kazuhiko’s names were mentioned.”

“Yeah…” Shuya moaned deep down in his throat. “I wonder if… they killed themselves.”

Noriko looked down at her feet. “I don’t know. But they must have been together, knowing those two, until the very end. They somehow managed to meet each other.”

Shuya had seen Sakura pass a note to Kazuhiko. He and Noriko were only making hopeful observations, though. For all they knew, the two might have been killed separately, in separate places by insane classmates.

Dismissing the image of her slipping the note to him as their hands touched, Shuya pulled out his student list from his pocket. It came with the map in the day pack. It was in bad taste, but he had to mark the information down. He took out his pen, and then as he was about to cross out the names—he decided not to. It was just too… it was just too awful.

Instead he entered a small check mark by the names. He also included Yoshitoki Kuninobu and Fumiyo Fujiyoshi. Shuya felt like he was turning into the man in the black suit from the vision he just had. “Let’s see, you, and also you. And you. What’s your coffin size? It’s a tight fit, but we can offer our popular No. 8 model to you at a specially reduced price.”

Enough. In any case, three out of four of Kazuo Kiriyama’s gang are dead. Hiroshi Kuronaga, Ryuhei Sasagawa, and Mitsuru Numai. The only ones who weren’t mentioned were Sho Tsukioka—nicknamed “Zuki.” He was a little weird. And Kazuo Kiriyama himself.

He recalled Mitsuru Numai’s smug face when Kazuo Kiriyama left the classroom. Shuya had assumed Kazuo would organize his gang and attempt an escape. So what did these results mean? Maybe, even though they’d agreed to meet somewhere, they turned suspicious and turned against each other? Then Sho Tsukioka and Kazuo managed to escape—would that mean Sho Tsukioka and Kazuo were still together? No, something completely different might have happened. Shuya had no idea.

Then he recalled the faint sound of guns going off. He’d only heard it once. If that had been gunfire—then which one of these ten did it kill?

His thoughts were interrupted all of a sudden by a rustling sound. Noriko’s face stiffened. Shuya immediately stuck the pen and list into his pocket.

Shuya listened closely. The sound continued. In fact, it was approaching them.

He whispered to Noriko, “Be quiet.”

Shuya grabbed his day pack. They had to be able to move at any moment, so he’d put everything he needed in it. He left some of his clothes in his sports bag, but it wasn’t a big deal to toss it. Noriko had also packed her bags the same way.

He hoisted the two day packs on his left shoulder. He offered Noriko his hands to help her up. They waited in a crouched position.

Shuya pulled out his knife. His right hand held it in a reverse grip. I might know how to use a guitar pick, he thought, but I don’t know a thing about how to use this.

The rustling became increasingly louder. It was probably only a few meters away.

He was overwhelmed by the same tension he felt outside the school. He held Noriko’s shoulder with his left hand and pulled her back. He stood up and stepped back. The sooner the better. As soon as possible!

They made their way through the bushes and came out onto a foot trail. It winded up the hill. Trees loomed above them, branches bunched together, and the sky was blue.

Still holding Noriko, Shuya treaded backwards with her for several meters along the trail. The rustling sound continued in the bushes they’d just left. The sound grew and then—

Shuya’s eyes widened.

A white cat jumped out of the bushes and landed on the trail. It was scraggly, and its hair was frayed, but in any case, that’s what it was—a cat.

Shuya and Noriko looked at each other. “It’s a cat,” she said and broke into a smile. Shuya also grinned. Then the cat turned to them as if it had finally noticed them.

It stared at them for a while and then ran up to them.

Shuya returned his knife into the sheath while Noriko crouched, cautiously bent her injured leg, and offered her hands to the cat. The cat jumped into her hands and nuzzled her feet. Noriko slipped her hands under the cat’s front feet and hugged it towards her.

“Poor kitty. Look how thin it is.” Noriko said as she pursed her lips towards the cat as if to kiss it. The cat responded enthusiastically, purring, meow.

“It must be a domestic cat. It’s so friendly.”

“I don’t know.”

The government had relocated all the residents of this island for the sake of this game. (Because the Program was a secret operation until it was over, they must not have been informed.) As Noriko said, maybe this cat had been owned by someone here and abandoned after its owner left. There weren’t any houses in the area, so did it get lost in the hills? Shuya wondered as he casually looked away from Noriko. He turned…

…in shock.

There was someone wearing a school coat ten meters away, standing on the trail as if his feet were glued to it. Although he was of medium height, like Shuya, he had a solid build from his training on the handball team. His skin was tanned, and he had a buzz cut. His hair stood up at the front. It was Tatsumichi Oki (Male Student No. 3).

16

Noriko followed Shuya’s eyes and turned around. Her face suddenly grew tense. What was going on with Tatsumichi? Was he an enemy or not?

Tatsumichi Oki stood there, staring at them. Shuya felt his field of vision grow narrow from the tension—the way it might in a speeding car—but in the corner of his eye he could still make out the large hatchet in Tatsumichi’s right hand.

Shuya reflexively raised his hand to the knife tucked in his belt.

That set it off. Tatsumichi’s hand, the one holding the hatchet, twitched, and then he began running towards them.

Shuya shoved Noriko, who was still holding the cat, into the bushes.

Tatsumichi was already right in front of him.

Shuya quickly lifted up his day pack. The hatchet went right into it, splitting it open so its contents spilled to the ground. Water sprayed out of the bag from the broken water bottle. The blade reached Shuya’s arm. A searing pain ran under his skin.

He tossed down the torn day pack and leaped back to gain some distance. Tatsumichi’s face was so wound up the whites of his eyes formed circles around his pupils.

Shuya couldn’t believe it. Yes, they were in a dire situation, and Shuya had been for a moment suspicious too, but how could he?… How could that cheerful, nice guy, Tatsumichi, do such a thing?

Tatsumichi quickly glanced over to where Noriko was, in the bushes. Following his gaze, Shuya looked over at Noriko too. Noriko’s face and lips froze at Tatsumichi’s glance. The cat had already gone off elsewhere.

Suddenly Tatsumichi turned to Shuya and swung his hatchet sideways.

Shuya met the blow with the knife he’d pulled out from his belt. Unfortunately it was still inside its leather sheath, but in any case, there was a locking sound. He managed to stop the blow about five centimeters away from his cheek. Shuya could see the blue ripple on the hatchet blade, probably formed when it had been forged.

Before Tatsumichi could swing back, Shuya tossed his knife out and grabbed Tatsumichi’s right arm, which was holding the hatchet. But Tatsumichi forced a swing, which although slow managed to hit the right side of Shuya’s head. Some of the slightly wavy long hair above his right ear fell, and a sharp tear ran through his earlobe. It didn’t hurt much. A silly, inappropriate thought crossed his mind: well, it’s no big deal, Shinji had his pierced, after all.

Tatsumichi switched the hatchet from his right hand to his left but before he could swing at Shuya again, Shuya swept his left leg under Tatsumichi’s feet. Tatsumichi’s legs swayed, all right now, fall!

But he managed to stay up, teetered, and then spun around. He fell on top of Shuya. Shuya moved back into the shrubbery. The sound of crushed branches surrounded them.

Shuya continued moving back. Forced by Tatsumichi’s awesome strength, he was now practically running backwards. Noriko’s face was vanishing from his sight. In this unreal situation, another absurd thought crossed his mind. He recalled Little League practice. Shuya Nanahara, backwards-running champion, yeah!

Then his feet felt funny.

He suddenly recalled how there was a steep slope towards the field with the shrine.

I’m falling!

The two of them tumbled down the slope covered with shrubbery. The clear early morning sky and greenery spun around and around. But he still managed to hold onto Tatsumichi’s wrist.

He felt as if they’d fallen from a great height, but it was probably only ten meters or so. Their bodies crashed with a loud thump, and they were still. The area was bathed in sunlight. They’d fallen into the field.

Shuya was crushed under Tatsumichi. He had to get up before Tatsumichi could. But that was when Shuya felt something strange. Although Tatsumichi had come at him with the force of an air compressor, the strength in his arms had completely gone. They’d gone limp.

His face under the lower part of Tatsumichi’s chest, Shuya saw why, as he looked up.

Right above him, the hatchet was lodged into Tatsumichi’s face. Half of the blade stuck out from his face like the top layer of chocolate on a Christmas cake. The hatchet had landed on his forehead, neatly split open the left eyeball (a gooey liquid leaked out with his blood), and a pale blue light reflected off the blade inside his mouth.

Tatsumichi still held onto the hatchet, but Shuya was the one holding his wrists. Shuya felt a horrible sensation running at the speed of light from Tatsumichi’s face to his wrists.

As if tracing the course of this sensation, blood slid down the blade, flowing from Tatsumichi onto Shuya’s hands holding Tatsumichi’s wrists. Shuya let out a low groan, released his hands, and got out from underneath Tatsumichi’s body. Tatsumichi’s body rolled over, face up, his horrific dead face thrust into the morning light.

Huffing and puffing, Shuya felt a numb urge to vomit.

The incomparable horror of Tatsumichi’s face wasn’t a trivial matter, but for Shuya something even more important concerned himself. Yes. He had killed someone. Worse yet, a fellow classmate.

It was no use convincing himself it was an accident. After all, he had done everything he could to deflect the blade, and therefore direct it towards Tatsumichi by twisting Tatsumichi’s wrists as far back as possible.

He felt incredibly nauseous. But Shuya gulped and held back the urge to vomit. He lifted his head and looked up at the slope he’d just tumbled down.

He couldn’t see beyond the shrubbery covering the slope. He’d left Noriko alone. The important thing now was to protect Noriko. He had no time to puke. He had to hurry back to Noriko, Shuya told himself as if these thoughts would calm him down. He stood up and stared down at Tatsumichi’s face and the hatchet for a while.

He hesitated but then pursed his lips together and pried Tatsumichi’s fingers loose from the handle of the hatchet that split his face. He couldn’t just leave Tatsumichi like this. Of course he couldn’t bury him—but Tatsumichi’s hatchet face was just too much. He couldn’t bear it. He grabbed the handle and tried to pull the hatchet out of Tatsumichi’s face.

Tatsumichi’s face was stuck to it though as it came up with the hatchet. The hatchet was lodged in so deeply, it was stuck.

Shuya took a deep breath. Oh God.

Then he thought about it. No. What’s this about God? Ms. Anno was a devoted Christian but no thanks to her faith in God she ended up getting raped by Sakamochi. Ah, praise the Lord.

Shuya felt another surge of anger.

He clenched his teeth and knelt beside Tatsumichi’s head and put his trembling left hand on his classmate’s forehead. With his right hand he pulled on the hatchet, which made a horrible spurting sound as blood sprayed out of Tatsumichi’s face, and the hatchet came loose.

He felt as if he were in a nightmare. Cracked in the middle, Tatsumichi’s head was now asymmetrical. It looked too unreal. It looked like a plastic fake. Shuya realized for the first time in his life how malleable and fragile the human body was.

He gave up trying to close Tatsumichi’s eyes. His left eyeball and eyelid was split, the eyelid shriveled and swollen so badly it couldn’t be shut. His right eye was probably manageable, but who’d want a winking corpse? It was in bad taste given the circumstances.

He felt sick again.

But he stood up again and turned around. To get back to Noriko he’d have to take the long way around up the foot trail.

Shuya’s eyes opened wide again though now because…

…there was a boy wearing glasses and a school coat in the middle of the field—the male class representative, Kyoichi Motobuchi.

And this representative was holding a pistol.

17

Behind his silver-framed glasses, the class representative’s eyes met Shuya’s. His hair that was always so neatly parted at a 7:3 ratio was now a complete mess. The lenses of his glasses looked smudged, and the eyes behind them were bloodshot and wide open the way Tatsumichi’s eyes were. His face was incredibly pale, as it was inside the classroom, once again resembling a Warhol print. It didn’t look human anymore.

As the gun flinched, Shuya twisted his body and ducked backwards. With an explosive pop, the gun set off a small flame. Something hot grazed the top of his head. Of course he might have just imagined it. Anyway, the bullet missed him.

Still on his back, Shuya didn’t have time to think. He just tried to retreat. The tall grass made a rustling sound under his back.

He was too close. He couldn’t escape. Kyoichi Motobuchi was only several meters away from Shuya, aiming directly at his chest.

Shuya’s face grew as stiff as a plaster sculpture. More than protecting Noriko, more than anything, it was real fear that caught him now, welling up inside. The next tiny lead bullet that gun spits out will kill me! kill… me!

“Stop it!” Another voice yelled.

Kyoichi suddenly turned in a diagonal direction. Shuya also followed Kyoichi’s glance—

A large figure stood in the shade of the shrine. Buzzed hair, no, the head was practically bald, the prominent scars above his brows, the tough face of a thug. It was Shogo Kawada (Male Student No. 5). He held a pump-action shotgun (a sawed-off Remington M-31).

Without any warning Kyoichi shot at Shogo. Shuya saw Shogo quickly duck. As he heard the explosion from the shotgun that Shogo held in his kneeling position, sparks flew from the muzzle like a flame thrower, and the next moment Kyoichi’s right arm was gone. Bloody mist shot into the air. Kyoichi gazed blankly at the half-sleeve of his school uniform. The rest of his sleeve, from his elbow to the hand that was holding the gun, was now lying on the grass. Shogo quickly pumped the shotgun and loaded the next shot. A red plastic shell flew out to the side after spitting out its pellets.

“AIEEEE!” Kyoichi screamed like an animal as he suddenly realized what had happened. Shuya thought he would fall to his knees.

But he didn’t. The representative instead ran for his arm. He pried the gun loose from his right hand with his left hand. Like a one-man baton relay. Great. Shuya once again felt like he was watching a bad horror flick. Or better yet, reading a bad horror novel.

Damn, this was bad.

“Stop it!” Shogo shouted, but Kyoichi refused and pointed his gun at Shogo.

Shogo shot again. Kyoichi’s body bent over into a triangle shape, with his waist pointing out like a long jumper, but blown backwards. He landed feet first, and as if in time-lapse photography the next moment he was falling on the ground face up. He sank into the overgrown grass and remained still.

Shuya scrambled to his feet.

He could see Kyoichi’s body between the blades of grass. There was a gaping hole in the stomach of the school coat, and the contents inside looked like a trash bin in a sausage factory.

Shogo hardly paid any attention to the corpse and quickly approached Shuya with his shotgun. He pumped the shotgun again and ejected the empty shell.

Shuya was overwhelmed by the quick succession of events and the horrific deaths of Tatsumichi and Kyoichi, but he managed to say between heavy breaths, “Hold on, I’m—”

Shogo stopped behind Kyoichi’s body and said, “Don’t move. Drop your weapon.” Shuya finally realized he was still holding the hatchet.

He did as he was told. The blood-drenched hatchet fell to the ground with a thud.

That was when Noriko appeared, standing where the trail nose dived. Dragging her leg, she had made her way through the thicket, following Tatsumichi and Shuya after they tumbled down the slope. (Shuya then realized that less than a minute had elapsed since his confrontation with Tatsumichi Oki.) She’d turned pale from the gunfire, but now she was holding her breath at the sight of the sprawled out corpses of Tatsumichi and Kyoichi while Shogo and Shuya faced each other.

Shogo immediately noticed Noriko and pointed his shotgun at her. Noriko’s body stiffened. “Stop it!” Shuya shouted. “Noriko is with me! We don’t want to fight at all!”

Shogo turned slowly to Shuya. He had a strange, blank look.

Shuya shouted at Noriko, “Noriko! Shogo saved me. Shogo isn’t an enemy!”

Shogo looked at Noriko and then returned his gaze to Shuya. Then he lowered the muzzle.

After remaining frozen for a while, Noriko raised her hand to indicate her hands were empty, then nearly slid down the steep trail. She staggered, dragging her right leg, and as she drew herself up next to Shuya they both looked at Shogo.

Shogo stared back at them as if they were a pair of Armadillo twins. Shuya noticed that the stubble on his cheek and chin had grown a little.

“First, let me explain,” Shogo finally said, “I had no choice but to shoot Kyoichi. You understand?”

Looking over at Kyoichi’s body, Shuya considered Shogo’s words and realized that maybe, maybe the representative had totally lost control. He might have seen me beat Tatsumichi Oki and gotten the wrong impression. Noriko wasn’t around so it would have been natural.

As Shogo said, Shuya had no right to fault Shogo for his actions. If Shogo didn’t kill Kyoichi, then Kyoichi would have killed Shuya. After all, he had also killed someone. Tatsumichi Oki.

He looked back at Shogo.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks. You saved me.”

Shogo shrugged. “I was just trying to stop Kyoichi, but I guess I ended up doing that as well.”

Adrenaline was still rushing through his body, but Shuya managed to blurt out, “I’m so glad. I’m so relieved we’ve met someone else who’s normal.”

In fact Shuya was surprised. Back in the classroom he thought if anyone was going to play the game it’d be Shogo. But not only was he not playing along, he’d managed to save Shuya’s life.

Shogo stared at them for a while, as if he were thinking through something. Then he said, “So you two are together?”

Shuya raised his brow. “That’s what I said.”

Then Shogo asked, “Why are you two together?”

Shuya and Noriko looked at each other. Then they looked at Shogo. Shuya was in the middle of saying, “What do you mean…” but then stopped as Noriko asked the same question, but she stopped in mid-sentence too, realizing Shuya was asking the same thing. Shuya and Noriko looked at each other again. Shuya thought Noriko was giving him the green light to speak first, but then as soon as he began speaking, his words overlapped with hers, “That’s because…” Once again Shuya and Noriko exchanged glances. They ended up facing Shogo without saying a word.

A quick grin ran across Shogo’s face. If he was smiling, it was the first time Shuya had ever seen him smile.

Shogo said, “All right, all right. In any case, we have to hide out. We don’t want to be standing out here in the open.”

18

Yuko Sakaki (Female Student No. 9) was wading through the thicket. It was dangerous for her to run so recklessly, but she had to escape. That was her priority.

She played back the scene she had just witnessed in her head. The incident she saw from the bushes. Tatsumichi Oki’s head split wide open. Shuya Nanahara yanking out the hatchet from his head.

She was horrified. Shuya Nanahara had killed Tatsumichi Oki. He did it flawlessly.

Until Shuya pulled out the hatchet from Tatsumichi’s head, Yuko was so transfixed she couldn’t take her eyes off the scene. But as soon as she saw the red on the hatchet, fear took over. She grabbed her day pack and held her mouth shut because it would have shrieked on its own. Tears welled up in her eyes.

The sound of gunfire followed behind her, but she could hardly hear it given the state she was in.

19

After Shuya and Noriko returned to the thicket where they’d settled last night and picked up their bags, Shogo remarked their view was no good here. Shuya thought he’d been thorough choosing this location, but Shogo seemed abnormally adept in this environment, so they did as he said and moved towards the mountain. The dirty cat was gone.

“Hold on. I’m going to find Kyoichi’s and Tatsumichi’s bags.”

Shogo left them in the nearby shrubs. Noriko sat down to rest, and Shuya sat next to her. He was holding the revolver (Smith & Wesson .38 Chief’s Special) Shogo had given him after retrieving it from Kyoichi’s body. It made him feel uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to carry it— he’d seen that grotesque one-man baton hand off—but he managed to hold it.

“Shuya, here.”

She held out a pink band-aid. She must have found it in the day pack Tatsumichi Oki’s hatchet had torn through. Shuya touched his right ear with his left hand. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but he felt a stinging pain.

“Hold still.” Noriko drew near him and opened the band-aid seal.

As she carefully wrapped it around his earlobe, she said, “I wonder why so many of us came here. Five students, if we include Shogo and us.”

Shuya looked back at Noriko. The thought didn’t even occur to him thanks to all those action scenes, but she was right.

He shook his head.

“I don’t know. We came here to get as far away as possible, right? We avoided climbing the hill and avoided the shore, where there’s too much visibility. Maybe we were all thinking the same thing and ended up at the same place, thinking we’d be safe here, including the representative— and Tatsumichi.”

The moment he mentioned Tatsumichi, he felt a nauseous pain in his stomach again. His face split down the middle, left and right out of alignment like a peanut. And this corpse was lying right nearby. Ladies and gentlemen, the magnificent Peanut Man….

Along with the nausea, Shuya’s thoughts which had been numbed by the adrenaline rush of fighting finally grew clearer and the sensation of numbness finally subsided. He was coming back to his senses.

“Shuya. You’re pale. Are you okay?” Noriko asked, but Shuya couldn’t respond. A shiver ran through his body, and he began to tremble. His body shook as if it were vibrating. His teeth chattered uncontrollably as if dancing a crazy tap dance.

“What’s wrong?” Noriko put her hand on his shoulder.

Shuya answered, his teeth still chattering, “I’m scared.”

Shuya twisted his neck to the left and looked at Noriko. She glanced back at him with a look of concern.

“I’m scared. I’m scared shitless. I just killed someone.”

Noriko looked into Shuya’s eyes for a while, then she cautiously moved her injured right leg and sat diagonally in front of Shuya with her knees bent. Then she gently opened her arms and wrapped them around Shuya’s shoulders. Her cheek touched his trembling cheeks. He felt her warmth, and his nostrils which had been overwhelmed with the smell of blood could detect a slight whiff of something like cologne or shampoo.

Shuya was surprised, but he was grateful for the comforting warmth and smell and sat still, hugging his knees. It reminded him of the time his mother hugged him as a child before she died. As he looked at the collar of Noriko’s sailor suit, he had a fleeting image of his mother. She spoke clearly, always so full of energy. Even as a child he thought she was a stylish mother. Her face, oh man, looked a lot like Kazumi Shintani’s. She was always exchanging smiles with his father who, with his mustache, didn’t seem like your typical salaryman. (Wrapped in her arms, he would hear her say, “Your father works in law and helps people in trouble. It’s a very important job in this country.”)

Some day I’m going to marry someone like my mom and then I’ll be smiling all the time the way Mom and Dad are. Their smiles made him feel that way.

The trembling gradually subsided and disappeared.

“Are you all right?” Noriko asked.

“I think so. Thanks.”

Noriko slowly let him go.

After a while, Shuya said, “You smell nice.”

Noriko smiled bashfully. “Oh God, I didn’t take a bath yesterday.”

“No, you really do smell nice.”

A smile flashed across Noriko’s face again, when the bushes rustled. Shuya shielded her with his left arm and held the Smith & Wesson.

“Don’t shoot. It’s me.” Parting the thick bushes, Shogo entered. Shuya lowered the gun.

Shogo carried two day packs along with the shotgun slung over his shoulder on a sling. He took out a small cardboard box and tossed it over to Shuya.

He caught it in mid-air and opened it. The golden bottoms of bullets in neat rows. Five bullets were

missing like cavities.

“Bullets for your gun. Load it,” Shogo said, then put his shotgun by his side and pulled at some worn out fishing wire. He pulled at one end tightly and Shuya saw how the wire went straight into the deep end of the bushes. Shogo then took out a small knife from his pocket and snapped the blade out of its handle. Shogo’s supplied weapon was a shotgun, so, Shuya figured, the knife he must have brought on his own.

Shogo made a notch with the knife into a nearby tree trunk no thicker than a can of Coke. Then he fit the taught wire snugly into the notch and cut off the excess. He tied the remaining wire around the tree trunk in the same manner.

“What are you doing?” Shuya asked.

“This?” Shogo put away his knife and answered, “You might call it a primitive alarm system. We’re at the center. The wire runs around us in a circle with a twenty meter radius. The wire’s doubled. The moment it catches someone, this will be pulled and fall from the tree. Don’t worry, the intruder won’t even notice. It’ll provide us with a warning.”

“Where did you find that wire?”

Shogo tilted his head slightly.

“There was a little general supply store. I wanted to get my hands on some things, so that was my first destination. That’s where I found it.”

Shuya looked astonished. Of course. No matter how small this island was there had to be at least one supply store. But the thought never even crossed his mind. Of course it wouldn’t have been possible for him to wander around given how he had to look after Noriko.

Shogo sat down where he could face both Shuya and Noriko. He began sorting through a day pack that belonged either to Tatsumichi or Kyoichi. Taking out a bottle of water and some bread rolls, he said, “How about some breakfast?”

Still hugging his knees, Shuya shook his head. He had no appetite whatsoever.

“What’s wrong? You feel nauseous from killing Tatsumichi?” Shogo examined Shuya’s face and said casually, “Don’t let it get to you. Let’s say each person kills one person. The game’s like a tournament. It’s forty-two, no, forty students, so if you kill five or six, then you’ll be the winner. Four or five more, that’s all you’ll need.”

Shuya knew he was joking, but no, it was all the more offensive because he was joking. He glared at Shogo.

Sensing Shuya’s anger, Shogo drew back. “Sorry man, I was just kidding.”

Shuya asked in a hostile tone, “So you don’t feel nauseous? Or did you already kill someone before Kyoichi?”

Shogo merely shrugged. “Well, this time, it was my first.”

It was a strange way to put it, Shuya thought, but he had no idea what was so odd about it. He felt confused. If Shogo was the rumored delinquent he was said to be then he might be bold in a way Shuya could never be.

Shuya shook his head and changed the subject. “You know, there’s something I don’t get.”

Shogo raised his brow. The ugly scar above his left brow moved with it. “What’s that?”

“The representative… Kyoichi…”

“Hey.” Shogo pointed his chin up at him to cut him off. “I thought you understood. I didn’t have any choice. Are you saying I should have let him kill me? I’m not Jesus Christ, okay? Besides, I can’t be resurrected, although I’ve never tried it out….”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

As Shuya continued, he wondered whether Shogo was kidding again. Was Shogo Kawada the joking type? “I think the reason Kyoichi tried to shoot me was that he saw me kill… Tatsumichi up close. I killed Tatsumichi. And that was because he attacked me—”

Shogo gave a light nod.

“So it was only natural that Kyoichi would try to kill me.”

“That’s true. Maybe. But even so I—”

“No,” Shuya interrupted Shogo. “Forget about that. What I mean is that Tatsumichi… Tatsumichi came after me even though I didn’t do a thing. And besides, I was with Noriko. Why did he have to attack us?”

Shogo shrugged and put his water bottle and bread by his feet.

“Tatsumichi was up for it. That’s all. What’s to understand?”

“No, well… theoretically, yes, but… I just don’t get it. How Tatsumichi could—”

Shogo cut off Shuya’s hesitant words, “There’s no need to understand.”

“Huh?”

Shogo’s lips twisted slightly as if grinning, then he went on, “I’m only a transfer student, so I don’t know much about you and your classmates. But what do you know about Tatsumichi? Maybe there’s someone really ill in his family, so he felt he had to survive. Or maybe he was just being selfish. Or maybe he went insane from fear and lost his capacity for reason. Or there’s even this possibility: you were with her. He might have thought you teamed up with her. How can he tell whether he’s invited? You and her might have decided he’s a threat. Or if you were actually playing the game, then you could use this same excuse to kill him. Hey, did you provoke him at all?”

“No…” Shuya stopped, recalling how he’d reflexively touched his knife when he faced Tatsumichi. Shuya himself had also been afraid. He’d been afraid of Tatsumichi.

“Was there something?”

“I touched my knife.” He looked at Shogo. “But that’s not enough to—”

Shogo shook his head. “Oh yeah it is, Shuya. Tatsumichi might have thought, I have to beat you, since you’re holding a weapon. Everyone’s fuse in this game is pretty short.” He said, as if to conclude the topic, “But in the end Tatsumichi was up for it. That’s the best way to understand it. Look, there’s no need to understand. What it comes down to is this. Once your opponent attacks you with a weapon, you don’t hesitate. Otherwise you’ll die. You can’t afford to think about it. The first thing you do is anticipate your opponent. You shouldn’t trust people too much in this game.”

Shuya took a deep breath. Did Tatsumichi really want to kill me? Then again, as Shogo said, it might be pointless to think too much about it.

Shuya looked up at Shogo again. “That’s right.”

“What?”

“That’s what I forgot to ask.”

“So what is it? Come on.”

Shuya continued, “Why are you here with us?”

Shogo raised his eyebrows. He licked his lips.

“Good point. I might be against you too.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Shuya shook his head. “You saved me. No, you also risked your life trying to stop Kyoichi. I’m not suspecting you.”

“Well, you got it wrong, Shuya. You don’t seem to understand this game yet.”

“…what do you mean?”

Shogo continued, “In order to survive, being in a group gives you an advantage this game.”

Shuya considered this, then nodded. He was right. You could take turns being on the lookout, and you were stronger in case of an attack. “So?”

“Think about it.” Shogo nudged the shotgun resting on his knees with his hand. “Do you think I was risking much to stop Kyoichi? Do you think ordering him to stop would have actually stopped him? Maybe I was already planning on killing Kyoichi. Did I really have to kill him? Kyoichi never struck me as the type who’d attract a group, but maybe I ordered him to stop just to put on an act for you guys to join me. Wouldn’t it be in my best interests to join you guys and then kill you off later?”

Shuya stared at Shogo’s face, surprised by this series of clear and logical explanations. It was true Shogo was a year older than them. But he talked like an adult—a wise, mature adult. In this sense he resembled Shinji Mimura.

Shuya shook his head.

“There’ll be no end to it if I start getting suspicious. You’re not against us.” He glanced over at Noriko “That’s what I think.”

“Me too.” Noriko nodded. “If we can’t trust anyone we’ll lose.”

“That’s a noble thought, girl,” Shogo nodded. “If that’s the way you want it. I’m just telling you that you got to be careful in this game.” Then he asked, “So what is it?”

Shuya all of a sudden remembered he was the one with the questions. “You. Why do you trust us? Teaming up with you doesn’t necessarily rule out that one or both of us is against you. You said so yourself. You have no reason to trust us.”

“I see,” Shogo responded, as if amused. “An applied question. You’re getting the hang of it, Shuya.”

“Come on, I want an answer.”

Shuya waved his hand still holding the revolver. Shogo drew back as if to warn him it was dangerous.

“Well?” Shuya insisted. Shogo raised his brow again. Then he revealed that faint smile on his face. He looked up at the branches looming above them and then looked back at Shuya and Noriko. He looked serious.

“First of all—”

Shuya saw something intense run across Shogo’s calm eyes. He didn’t know what it meant but it was intense.

“I have my reasons. I have a problem with the rules. No, the game itself.”

Shogo stopped for a moment and then continued, “You’re absolutely right, but… you see, I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I’ve always based my decisions on my conscience. So—”

Shogo grabbed the barrel of his shotgun standing between his knees as if it were a cane and looked at them. A bird was chirping deep in the woods. Shogo looked solemn. Shuya listened nervously.

“You two make a nice couple. That’s what I thought when I saw you this morning, and I still think so now.”

Shuya stared at him, his mouth agape.

Couple?

Noriko spoke first. Her cheeks were bright red. “You have it all wrong. We’re not. I’m not—”

Shogo looked at Shuya and Noriko and grinned. Then he broke out laughing. It was an unexpected, friendly laugh. He continued chuckling.

“That’s why I trust you. Besides, you just said so yourselves. There’s no end once you start getting suspicious. Isn’t that enough?”

Shuya finally grinned. Then he said sincerely, “Thanks. I’m so glad you trust us.”

Shogo continued smiling, “Oh no, the honor’s mine.”

“I knew you were an individualist the day you transferred to our school.”

“Easy with the fancy terminology. Sorry but I was born with these looks. I can’t help it if I don’t look friendly.”

Noriko gave him a warm smile and said, “I’m so glad. Now we have one more on our side.”

Responding to Noriko, Shogo rubbed his finger against the stubble under his nose and made an unexpected gesture. He turned to Shuya and offered his right hand. “I’m glad too… now that I’m not alone.”

Shuya squeezed his hand. Shogo’s palms were thick. In keeping with his appearance, it felt like the hand of a fully mature man.

Shogo stretched, passed Shuya, and offered his hand to Noriko. “You too.”

Noriko squeezed his hand.

Then he looked down at Noriko’s leg wrapped in bandannas and remarked, “I’d forgotten about this. Show me your leg wound first, then we’ll talk about our plans.”

20

The sunlight reflecting off the opaque window with the detailed patterns began to turn white. As sunlight came directly through the top of the window into the building where Yumiko Kusaka (Female Student No. 7) was sitting against a wall, she squinted her eyes. She was remembering the trite phrase repeated in the sermons given by the local priest of the Halo Church which her parents and she (before her name was even registered) attended, “The sun will come every day, blessing every one of us with joy.”

Oh yeah, I am so blessed to be part of such a wonderful game, ha ha ha.

Yumiko lightly shook her short, boyish hair with a sarcastic smile. She looked over at Yukiko Kitano (Female Student No. 6), who was sitting near her, also against the wall. Yukiko remained in a daze, staring at the wooden floor bathed in light. Even though it had the bombastic name “Okishima Island Tourist Association” the building resembled a plain town council hall. Down by the lower entrance, there was an office desk, a chair, and a rusty file cabinet. The desk had a phone (she’d tried using it, but of course, as Sakamochi had warned, there was no dial tone). Inside the file cabinet they only found some unattractive tourist flyers.

Yumiko and Yukiko had been friends ever since nursery school. At nursery school they were in separate classes and lived in different neighborhoods too. They met thanks, once again, to the Halo Church where their parents took them. When they met it was Yumiko’s third visit, but for Yukiko it seemed like it was her first, and she looked intimidated by everything there including the gong ringing with every chant and the general atmosphere of the heavily decorated church. So Yumiko approached the quiet girl left alone by her who were preoccupied with some other task and said, “Don’t you think this is all so stupid?”

The girl looked a little shocked, but then she smiled. They were friends ever since.

Although their names sounded similar, they were very different from each other. Yumiko was energetic and got labeled a tomboy. Even now (although the chances of that “now” returning were very, very low) she batted fourth on the softball team. Yukiko was domestic and baked cakes for Yumiko. Yumiko was now fifteen centimeters taller than Yukiko. Yukiko often said she envied Yumiko’s height and her well defined face, but Yumiko was in fact more envious of Yukiko for her petite body and round cheeks. It was true; they were totally different, but they were still best friends. That didn’t change.

Fortunately (well, that’s putting it harshly), the death of Yoshitoki Kuninobu (Male Student No. 7) before his scheduled departure enabled their own departures to be only two minutes apart from each other. After Yumiko left the classroom, she hid behind a pole and waited for Yukiko, whose face had turned white. They left together (twenty minutes later Yoshio Akamatsu returned to begin killing, but they were unaware of this) and headed north far beyond the residential area, following the road on the eastern shore. A little ways up the northern mountain they found a single building standing alone on a hill. They locked themselves inside here.

Over four hours had passed since then. They were exhausted from the extreme tension and remained sitting next to each other as time flew by.

Yumiko looked away from Yukiko and along with her stared at the floor.

Even though she was in a daze, she continued to think. What in the world were they supposed to do now? Sakamochi’s announcement was audible even inside this building. Aside from Yoshitoki Kuninobu and Fumiyo Fujiyoshi, nine classmates were already dead. Aside from Sakura Ogawa and Kazuhiko Yamamoto… the others couldn’t have been suicides. Someone was killing someone else. Right now someone might have been dying. In fact she thought she’d heard gunfire right after the 6 a.m. announcement.

How could you kill your classmates? Of course those were the rules, but she couldn’t believe there could be people who’d actually follow them. But…

But if someone tried to kill her—if she could assume that much, then she would probably fight back. Yes.

If so, then…

Yumiko looked at the megaphone lying in the corner of the room. Could she use that? If she could…

Wasn’t there something she could do? She was simply afraid of doing it, though. Not just of doing it. Because while she couldn’t believe anyone was playing the game, she also couldn’t rid herself of this overwhelming fear. That’s what made her seek shelter here with Yukiko. What if… what if someone really did…

But—

She recalled something from when she was in elementary school—the face of her best friend. It wasn’t Yukiko. The friend was crying. For some reason, the only clothes she could remember on her friend was her pink sneakers.

“Yumi,” Yukiko said and interrupted Yumiko’s thoughts. She faced Yukiko. “Let’s eat our bread rolls. We won’t come up with any good ideas if we don’t eat.” Yukiko provided a kind smile. It felt slightly forced, but it was still her usual smile. “Okay?” Yukiko repeated and Yumiko returned her smile and nodded.

“All right.”

They took out their bread rolls and water from their day packs. Yumiko looked at the two cans inside. The cans were a greenish silver, and at the top a cigar-sized stick stuck out, attached to a lever and a metal ring approximately three centimeters in diameter. She assumed it was a “hand grenade.” (Yukiko’s “weapon” was a set of darts. It must have been some kind of joke. It even came with a wooden target board.)

After she finished half of her roll and took a sip of her water, Yumiko said, “You feel a little better now, Yukiko?”

As Yukiko chewed on her bread, her round eyes grew wider.

“You’ve been shaking all this time.”

“Oh,” Yukiko broke into a smile. “I think I’m fine now. I mean with you by my side.”

Yumiko smiled and nodded. She wondered whether she should bring up “what they should do” while they ate… but decided against it. She just wasn’t feeling confident enough about her idea. It could be extremely dangerous. To go through with it wouldn’t only endanger herself but Yukiko as well. But on the other hand, it was this kind of danger that was forcing everyone to panic over the deadline. What was the right thing to do? Yumiko just wasn’t sure yet.

They remained quiet for a while. Then Yukiko all of a sudden said, “Hey, Yumiko.”

“Hm? What?”

“You might think this sounds stupid but…” Yukiko lightly bit on her small but full lips.

“What is it?”

Yukiko hesitated but then finally let it out, “Did you have a crush on anyone in our class?”

Yumiko’s eyes suddenly grew wide.

Wow. This was exactly the kind of topic you discussed at night when you’re on a study trip. After going through the rituals of playing cards, pillow fighting, and checking out the inn, late at night you could bitch about your teachers, or talk about the future, but none of those were in the same league as this topic. It was the holy topic. And of course she’d expected to have this kind of conversation during their study trip, until they’d fallen asleep on the bus.

“You mean, a guy?”

“Yes.”

Yukiko’s downcast eyes bashfully looked over at Yumiko.

“Hmm.” Yumiko hesitated a little but then replied honestly, “Yes, I did.”

“I see.” Yukiko looked down at the knees of her pleated skirt and said, “I’m sorry I never told you, but I like… Shuya.”

Yumiko nodded without saying a word. She already had a hunch.

In her mind Yumiko pulled out her file on Shuya Nanahara. He was 171 centimeters tall, weighed 58 kilograms, his eyesight was 1.2 in the right eye, 1.5 in the left, and although he was thin he was muscular. In elementary school he was a Little League shortstop and batted first, but he quit and now preferred playing music. He was an excellent singer and guitarist. Because of his status as the team’s best player during his Little League days, combined with the fact that the first kanji character to his last name meant “seven,” he had the baseball nickname of “Wild Seven,” just like the cigarette brand. His blood type was B, and he was born, just as the first character of his first name indicated, in the fall. He lost his parents when he was young, and now he lived in a Catholic orphanage called the Charity House. He was best friends with Yoshitoki Kuninobu—oh God and now he was dead—who also lived in the Charity House. His strongest subjects were in the humanities, literature, and English, so he was a decent student. He had a unique face, his lips were slightly curved, but his double eyelids were sharply defined and kind looking, so he wasn’t bad looking at all. His hair was slightly wavy and long, covering his neck and touching his shoulders.

Yumiko’s file on Shuya Nanahara was filled to bursting (she was pretty confident hers was more thorough than Yukiko’s). One of the more important subjects in the file was his height. Because, she thought, if Shuya didn’t grow any taller then she wouldn’t be able to wear high heels with him, because that would make her taller than him if they walked together.

But now that she was sure about Yukiko, she wouldn’t be able to share these thoughts with her.

“Huh.” Yumiko tried to look as calm as possible. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

Yukiko looked down. Then she made the point she’d wanted to make all along, “I really want to see him. I wonder what he’s doing.”

As she sat with her hands glued to her thighs, she burst into tears.

Yumiko gently touched Yukiko on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. Knowing Shuya, no matter what happens—” Realizing though that this might have sounded funny, she immediately added, nervously, “You know how athletic he is, plus he seems really gutsy. I mean I don’t really know but…”

Yukiko wiped away her tears and nodded, “Uh huh.” Then as if she felt better, she asked, “So who do you like, Yumiko?”

Yumiko could only look up at the ceiling and force a moan, “Hmm,” as she thought it through. She was in trouble. Maybe I’ll just randomly pick someone just to avoid the issue.

Tatsumichi Oki was a star player on the handball team. Even though his face was kind of coarse he seemed like a nice guy. Everyone called Shinji Mimura a genius basketball player, and he knew so much. He even had a “following” of girls who were into him. (They weren’t from their class, maybe because his general reputation among the Class B girls was that he was a playboy.) Mitsuru Numai acted like he was a badass, but he didn’t really seem so bad. He was kind to girls—oh God but he’s dead too now. Hiroki Sugimura seemed to have a brooding quality that was kind of cool. Some girls were afraid of him because he practiced martial arts, but to Yumiko that was attractive. But he was close to Takako Chigusa. Takako would get on my back if she ever found out, she can be so harsh. But she’s a good girl. Come to think of it, everyone was, both boys and girls…

I’m back to the same question. Should I not trust them?

“So who is it?” Yukiko asked again.

Yumiko faced Yukiko again.

She hesitated again—but then she decided to let it out. At the very least, she should bring it up. After all, Yumiko was the ideal companion she could share her thoughts with.

“Can I ask you something?”

Yukiko tilted her head, puzzled.

Yumiko folded her arms to concentrate. Then she asked, “Do you really think there are people who want to kill others… in our class?”

Yukiko knit her brows slightly.

“Well… I mean the fact is that… they di—” As she pronounced the word “died” her voice trembled, “…died. All of them. It was announced this morning. Nine students have already been killed since our departure. They couldn’t have all been suicides… Besides, didn’t we just hear gunfire a little while ago?”

Yumiko tilted her head as she looked at Yukiko. She spread out her hands. She noticed for the first time that her left cuff was slightly torn.

“Now look. You see how terrified we are here. The two of us, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I think the others are in the same state. Everyone must be terrified. Don’t you think so?”

Yukiko seemed to mull over her point. Then she said, “Yes, maybe. I’ve been so preoccupied with my own fear, that thought didn’t even occur to me.”

Yumiko nodded once and continued, “And because we were lucky enough to end up together it’s probably nowhere near as bad as being alone, which I’m sure would be absolutely terrifying.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“And what would happen if you encountered someone in that state of fear, Yukiko?”

“I’d run away.”

“What if you couldn’t?”

Yukiko seemed to consider the situation carefully. Then she spoke slowly, “I-I-I just might fight. If I had something I might throw it, or if I had something like a gun I might, I just might shoot it—of course, I’d try to talk. But if it happened quickly and I didn’t have any choice…”

Yumiko nodded. “Exactly. That’s why I think no one here really wants to kill anyone. I think it’s because we’re so terrified we become deluded that everyone else is out to kill us and so we resort to fighting. And in that state even if no one attacked, we might even end up attacking others on our own.” She interrupted herself, unfolded her arms, put her hands on the floor, and continued, “I think everyone’s just terrified.”

Yukiko pursed her small, full lips together. After a while, she looked down at the floor and said in a halting voice, “I don’t know. I just can’t trust some of them, like Mitsuko Souma’s gang, and Kazuo Kiriyama’s—”

Yumiko forced a smile and moved her sitting position by shifting her legs under her pleated skirt. “I’ll tell you what I think, Yukiko.”

“Hm”

“We’re going to die the way things are going. Time limit? If no one dies in the next twenty-four hours? Even if we survive that long, we’ll still end up getting killed.”

Yukiko nodded. She looked scared again. “That’s… that’s true.”

“So the only thing we can do is have everyone cooperate to find some way out of here, right?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“I have to tell you something.” Yumiko interrupted Yukiko and then tilted her head slightly. “I once had a horrible experience because I didn’t trust someone. I was in elementary school.”

Yukiko stared at Yumiko “What happened?”

Yumiko glanced up at the ceiling. She recalled the face of her friend crying. And the pink sneakers.

Yukiko looked back at Yumiko. “Do you remember the Egg Cats? They were such a big fad. Everybody loved them.”

“Yeah, they were character figures. I had a plastic board with them on it.”

“And I had an Egg Cats tri-tip ballpoint pen. The limited edition. I mean it seems like such a silly thing now, but at the time I absolutely adored it.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, it disappeared.” Yumiko looked down. “I suspected my friend of stealing it. She wanted it so badly. On top of that, I realized it was gone after first period gym class and she’d excused herself from gym because she wasn’t feeling well and returned to our classroom. And, this is really awful, she didn’t have a father and her mother worked at a bar, so she didn’t have a good reputation.”

Yukiko nodded slowly. “Uh huh.”

“I bombarded her with questions, but she said she didn’t know. And I even told the teacher about it. Our teacher, come to think of it, the teacher must have been biased too. The teacher told her to tell the truth. But she just cried and said she knew nothing about it.”

Yumiko looked back at Yukiko.

“When I came home, I found the pen on my desk.”

Yukiko remained silent and continued listening.

“I apologized to her. She said it was all right. But it just turned out all awkward and she ended up—I think her mother ended up remarrying—transferring schools and that was it. We were such good friends, as close as you and me. But in the end I wasn’t able to trust her.”

Yumiko shrugged and then continued.

“So ever since that incident I’ve been doing my best to trust people. I want to trust people. If I can’t then everything falls apart. This is different from what the folks at that stupid Halo Church preach. This is my belief. I hope you understand.”

“I do.”

“So let’s consider this situation now. Well yeah, Mitsuko Souma does seem dangerous. That’s her reputation. But I doubt she’s so bad she’d actually get off on killing people. She can’t be that bad. No one in our class could be that bad. Don’t you think?”

Several moments later Yukiko nodded and replied, “Yes.”

“So,” Yumiko continued, “if we could just contact everyone appropriately then the fighting would stop. Then we could figure out together how to deal with the circumstances. No, even if we couldn’t do anything, at the very least we could avoid killing each other. Don’t you think?”

“Yes…” Yukiko nodded, but she sounded hesitant. A little worn out from talking, Yumiko took a deep breath and shifted her legs again.

“In any case, that’s my opinion. Now let me hear yours. If you’re against it, then I won’t do it.”

Yukiko looked down at the floor in contemplation.

After two full minutes she mumbled, “Remember how you once told me that I’m always too worried about other people’s opinions?”

“Hm? Did I say that?” Yumiko examined Yukiko’s face. Yukiko looked up and their eyes met. Yukiko smiled gently. “I think you’re absolutely right. That’s my opinion.”

Yumiko smiled back at her and said, “Thanks.” She felt grateful towards Yukiko for seriously considering the idea on her own before sharing her thoughts. And now it seemed that her response confirmed the validity of her idea.

We have to do this. I don’t want to die without putting up a fight. If there’s a chance then let’s go for it. Just as I said to Yukiko, I want to trust people. Let’s try it.

Then Yukiko asked, “But how are we going to do this? How can we contact everyone?”

Yumiko pointed at the megaphone lying in the corner of the room. “We have to figure out how to use that.”

Yukiko gave several small nods and looked up at the ceiling. Then she uttered, “If all goes well, I’ll be able to see Shuya.”

Yumiko nodded. “Yes, I’m sure we will,” she said hopefully this time.

21

“All right.”

Shogo tossed the needle and thread onto the day pack beside him and said to Shuya, “I need the whiskey again.”

Noriko’s bent right leg rested on its side. The wound on her calf was sewn up with coarse cotton thread.

Shogo had managed to stitch it up. Of course they had no anesthetic, but Noriko managed not to cry during the ten-minute operation.

Shuya offered the flask to Shogo. Next to them was a small rock pit. The empty can rested on top of the charcoal, and the water inside was boiling. (Shogo had explained how he’d found the charcoal along with the needle and thread at the supply store.) He disinfected the needle and thread with the boiling water, but applying it directly to her wound was out of the question. Shogo had already soaked her wound with whiskey before he began stitching. He was going to disinfect again. Noriko, who’d managed to relax a little, now grimaced again.

Shuya looked at his watch. Because of the time it took to boil the water, it was already past 8 a.m.

“Okay,” Shogo said as he pressed the disinfected bandanna on her wound. Then he quickly wrapped another bandanna around Noriko’s leg. “We’re done.”

He added with a note of concern, “I hope the wound hasn’t been infected.”

Noriko tucked in her leg and showed her gratitude to Shogo, “Thank you. That was impressive.”

“Well, I’m good at playing doctor,” Shogo said as he took out a Wild Seven cigarette from his pocket, put it between his lips, and lit it with a disposable lighter. Did he get those from the store, or did he bring them along for the trip? Like Buster and hi-night, they were a popular brand.

Shuya gazed at the package, illustrated with silhouettes of motorcycle riders. He had no idea what they were referring to. The cigarettes piqued his curiosity, because Shuya’s baseball nickname was the same as this cigarette brand. The name came naturally. Shuya was the star player of his Little League team. He was a great clutch hitter with men in scoring position, and once he was on base, and no one else could get any hits, he could create his own scoring opportunities by stealing a base (he held the impressive record of stealing home three times in one season). When the bases were loaded, and their pitcher was in a pinch, he’d make the play to get them out of the jam, and if the pitcher was too tired, he’d switch from shortstop to pitcher. “Wild Card Nana (Seven),” yessir.

In his second year of junior high he became classmates with the star shooting guard of the basketball team, Shinji Mimura. Shinji’s nickname was “The Third Man,” which he got during his first year when he sat on the bench as the second backup guard. But with five minutes left and their team trailing by twenty in the district finals, this third man came onto the court and single-handedly brought his team to victory. Ever since then Shinji was a fixture in the starting lineup, and Shiroiwa Junior High turned into one of the prefecture’s top-ranked basketball teams. But because of that game, and because of the kanji character of “three” in his last name, the “Third Man” name stuck.

For this year’s class games, the girls as a joke made a pair of uniforms stitched with the numbers 7 and 3. Shuya and Shinji wore these uniforms during the games. It felt like a remote world. Shuya wondered again where Shinji was. Shinji would have been a big help.

As if the thought suddenly occurred to him, Shogo searched his pockets and pulled out a small leather pouch. He took out a sheet of white pills wrapped in aluminum foil and plastic and gave it to Noriko.

“Pain relievers. You should take some.”

Noriko blinked. But then she took the pills.

Shuya said to Shogo, “Hey…”

“What?” Shogo slowly blew smoke out his mouth and looked at Shuya. “Don’t stare at me. It’s not that uncommon to see a junior high kid smoking. Anyway I’m old enough to be in high school. And you’re the one who brought your own supply of whiskey.”

So high school students are allowed to smoke? Well, that wasn’t his point anyway. Shuya shook his head, “That’s not what I meant. Did you find those pills at the store too?”

Shogo shrugged. “Well yeah. It wasn’t exactly merchandise. I took it out of the first aid kit behind the cash register. It’s not a big deal. Just some aspirin called Gomez. What an obnoxious name for aspirin, huh? Anyway it’ll stop the pain.”

Shuya pursed his lips. Well, he might be telling the truth, but… “I don’t get how you can be so well prepared. And where’d you learn to stitch up a wound?”

Shogo’s mouth broke into a wide grin. He shrugged and replied, “My dad was a doctor.”

“What?”

“He ran a small dump, a clinic in the slums of Kobe. I’ve seen him sew people up ever since I was a kid. In fact I was a pretty good nurse. I even did some work myself. My dad couldn’t even afford to hire a nurse.”

Shuya was speechless. Was he telling the truth?

Shogo held up the cigarette between his fingers, as if to cut off Shuya’s response. “It’s true. Just think about it and you’ll see how important medicine is in these circumstances.”

Shuya kept quiet for a moment, but then recalled something else that puzzled him.

“Oh yeah…”

“What?”

“You mind if I ask—”

“Skip the formalities, Shuya. We’re in this together.”

Shuya shrugged once and then rephrased what he had to say. “Back on the bus, you were trying to open the window. You must have realized there was sleeping gas.”

Hearing this, Noriko gave Shogo a puzzled look.

This time Shogo shrugged.

“So you saw me? You should have lent me a hand.”

“I couldn’t. How did you know what was going on, though? I mean there was no smell or anything—”

“Oh yeah there was,” Shogo replied and rubbed his half finished cigarette into the ground. “It was faint, but if you’ve smelled it once you’d recognize it.”

“How did you recognize it?” This time Noriko asked. “My uncle actually worked at a state chemical lab and—”

“Come on,” Shuya interrupted him.

Shogo grimaced and said, “If I have to, I’ll explain it later. As far as I’m concerned I blew it big time. I Should’ve noticed sooner. And I certainly didn’t expect this to happen… but we should be focused on the present. Do you have any plans?”

If I have to, I’ll explain later? That statement bothered Shuya, but Shogo was right. Their priority was to come up with a plan for their escape. He put his questions on hold and said, “We’re planning on escaping.”

Shogo lit another cigarette and nodded. Then as if suddenly remembering what he had to do, he tossed dirt onto the charcoal inside the rock pit. Shuya heard the sound of Noriko swallowing a pill with water.

Shuya continued. “How hard do you think it’ll be?”

Shogo shook his head. “The question is whether it’s possible at all. My answer would be ‘extremely remote.’ So what then?”

“Well even if we escaped…” Shuya lifted his hand up to his neck, to the object that was wrapped around Shogo’s and Noriko’s necks as well, “…we’d be immediately discovered because of these collars.”

“Yep.”

“And we can’t get near that school.”

Sakamochi had said that “twenty minutes after your departure this school will become a forbidden zone.” Bastard.

“True.”

“But maybe there’s a way to lure him out here? Then we take Sakamochi hostage. That’s how we get them to disable the collars.”

Shogo raised his brow. “And?”

Shuya licked his lips and continued, “Before doing that we locate a ship and escape by taking Sakamochi with us.” Even as he was saying it, Shuya knew his plan was hopeless. He hadn’t even figured out how they were going to lure Sakamochi out from the school. No, you couldn’t even call it a plan, just an “idea.”

“That’s it?” Shogo asked. Shuya could only nod.

Shogo once again puffed on his cigarette. Then he said, “First of all, there aren’t any ships.”

Shuya bit his lip. “You never know.”

Shogo briefly smiled and blew out more smoke. “I told you how I went to that supply store by the harbor. There weren’t any boats. Not one. Not even damaged ones left on the shore. Every single boat’s been taken away. I mean, they were absurdly thorough.”

“Then the guard ship will do. As long as we can hold Sakamochi hostage.”

“That’s impossible, Shuya,” Shogo interrupted him. “You saw how many Special Defense Forces soldiers they had. Besides—” Shogo pointed to the silver collar around his neck. “They should be able to send the command to ignite these at any time regardless of what zone we’re in. Anytime, anywhere. The odds are stacked against us. Even if we managed to capture Sakamochi, I’m sure as far as the government’s concerned, he’s expendable.”

Shuya fell silent again.

“Do you have any other ideas?” Shogo asked him.

Shuya shook his head. “No. What about you, Noriko?”

Noriko also shook her head. But she had something else to say.

“That’s why I suggested we gather as many people as we can, even if they’re only the ones we trust, to come up with a plan together. I thought if we met together as a group we might come up with a good idea….”

That’s right, Shuya thought. That’s what I forgot to say.

Shogo only raised his scarred left brow. “And who are the ones you trust?”

Shuya replied enthusiastically, “There’s Shinji Mimura. Then there’s Hiroki Sugimura. Let’s see, as far as the girls go, there’s our class representative, Yukie Utsumi. Shinji is really amazing. He knows a lot. He knows so many different things. He’s good with machines too. He’d come up with something.”

Shogo rubbed his stubbly chin with his left hand as he stared at Shuya. Then he said, “Shinji, huh…”

Shuya looked surprised. “What’s wrong?”

“Well…” Shogo seemed hesitant but continued, “I saw Shinji….”

“What!? Where!?” Shuya raised his voice. He exchanged looks with Noriko. “Where? Where did you see him?”

Shogo pointed his chin to the east. “It was at night. West of the school. He seemed to be searching for something inside a house. He had a gun, and I think he noticed me.”

“Why didn’t you call out to him?” Shuya raised his voice scornfully. Shogo gave Shuya a puzzled look.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, come on, he helped Noriko get back to her seat in the classroom. You saw that? Besides—”

Shogo predicted the rest, “He tried to have the game postponed for Noriko’s injury, right? So that there’d be a chance for everyone to escape?”

Shuya nodded.

Shogo shook his head. “You expect me to trust him on account of those acts? No way. Besides, he might have been trying to con everyone into believing he was a trustworthy guy. It’d suit him fine if he planned on getting rid of everyone later.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Shuya raised his voice. “How cynical can you get? He’s not that kind of guy. He’s—”

Shogo silently extended both of his palms forward and Shuya fell silent. He was right. Raising your voice was not a good idea. In fact it was a very bad idea.

Then Shogo said, “Cut me some slack. I don’t know Shinji. Like I said before, the rule is to suspect, not trust, everyone in this game. And you have to be all the more suspicious of someone who’s smart. Besides, even if I invited him to join me, he probably would’ve refused.”

Shuya was about to say something, but then exhaled and decided against it. Shogo had a point. In fact, it was odd how Shogo could trust him and Noriko at all. Shogo did say though that it was because they made “a nice couple.”

“Well then…” Shuya continued, “we should at least go where you saw Shinji. We can definitely trust him. I guarantee it. He’d come up with a good idea. He’s—” But once again he was interrupted.

Shogo shook his head and said, “If Shinji is so smart then do you think he’d stay where I saw him?”

He was right.

Shuya sighed. It was a very long, deep sigh.

“Hey…” Noriko spoke up, “Shogo, I was wondering if there was any way we can contact others like Shinji.”

Shogo shook loose another cigarette and shook his head. “I doubt it. If we were trying to reach a general, unspecified number of people, well maybe, but contacting a particular party or person would be difficult.”

They fell silent for a while. Shuya stared at Shogo, who had his cigarette stuck between his lips. The tip of the Wild Seven crackled and grew shorter.

“Then…” Shuya said, nearly speechless, “there’s nothing we can do.”

Shogo responded flatly, “Oh but there is.”

“What?”

“I have a plan.”

Shuya stared again at Shogo’s face wrapped in a cloud of smoke. Then he suddenly became excited and asked, “What do you mean? Is there a way out?”

Shogo looked over at Shuya and Noriko. Then he looked up at the sky in contemplation, his cigarette still dangling from his lips. His right hand touched the smooth surface of the collar around his neck, as if it annoyed him. The smoke slowly drifted by.

Shogo said, “There might be a way.” Then he continued, “On one condition, though.”

“What’s that?”

Shogo shook his head slightly and then brought his cigarette closer to his lips. “We have to be the only survivors.”

Shuya knit his brows. He didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

“It should be obvious.” Shogo looked back at them. “Meaning the three of us have to be the only ones alive. The others would have to be dead.”

“But—” Noriko immediately raised her voice. “That’s too much! So we’re just looking after ourselves?”

Shogo held his cigarette held between his fingers over his crossed legs and raised his brow, “Shuya’s escape plan would amount to the same thing, though.”

“No,” Shuya intervened. “That’s not what Noriko’s saying. She’s asking you whether our survival comes at the cost of everyone else. Right, Noriko? That would just be… horrible.”

“Hold on guy.” Shogo waved his hand. He crushed his cigarette against the ground. “I’m not against our group expanding, as long as we can trust them. But whether we find others or not, everyone besides the ones in our group will have to die.”

“If that’s the case,” Shuya said enthusiastically, “We could inform everyone. If you have the most reliable plan then no one will oppose it. Then everyone would be saved? Right?”

Shogo pursed his lips in response to Shuya. Then he asked in a slightly irritated tone, “What if we’re attacked before we even manage to get a word in?”

Shuya took a deep breath.

“Unless you’re actively out to kill people, then, relatively speaking that is, the smartest way to survive would be to stay put and hide. That’s the reason why,” Shogo pointed to his collar, “the government is using this to force us to move. That’s one of the basic tenets of this game. Don’t forget that. You move around aimlessly, and you’re a walking target for someone lurking in the shadows. With Noriko injured like this, we’re prime targets.”

He was right.

“Besides, when you insist everyone has to be saved, that only means we might not get killed here. But what if we end up as fugitives? We’ll be chased by the government, and the probability that we’ll get killed in the end is extremely high. I doubt anyone would submit to a plan like that. Don’t forget. You don’t know who your enemies are in this game. Blindly accepting everyone could ruin everything for you.”

“But no one’s—”

“That bad? Can you really say that, Shuya?” Shogo’s eyes grew stern. “It’d be wonderful if everyone in this class were good. But if we’re going to be realistic, we have to be careful. Think about it, you yourself were attacked by Yoshio Akamatsu and Tatsumichi Oki.”

Shuya had told Shogo about Yoshio’s assault when Shogo was stitching Noriko’s leg. Shogo was absolutely right. He had no idea what Yoshio Akamatsu was thinking. He might have been trying to kill Shuya.

Shuya sighed. His shoulders drooped down as he feebly mumbled, “Then… then we’re going to let most of our classmates, the good ones, just die. That’s what this means, right?”

Shogo moved his chin up and down slightly, nodding. “It’s not easy, but yes. I don’t know if it’s going to be most of the class, though.”

They fell silent for a while. Shogo lit another cigarette. He smoked too much. And he was a minor.

Then Noriko said, “Hey wait.” Shuya looked back at Noriko. “You said we might escape if everyone else dies, but we could also run out of time, if no one dies for twenty-four hours—”

“Yeah,” Shogo nodded. “That’s correct.”

“In that case, I guess your plan wouldn’t work.”

“That’s right. But I highly doubt that’ll happen. Besides, if everyone can really get along and agree to my plan then they’re totally welcome. But I doubt that’ll happen. So there’s really no need to worry about it.

Apparently only 0.5% of the national Programs have ended due to time expiration.”

Shuya blurted out,”’Apparently‘? How would you know?”

“Hold on.” Shogo again made a pushing gesture with his hands to stop Shuya. “We have more urgent matters at hand. You haven’t asked me what my plan is.”

Shuya fell silent. Then he asked, “What is it?”

Shogo shrugged. Through the corner of his mouth, which was still holding the cigarette, he curtly replied, “I can’t tell you.”

Shuya knit his brows. “What?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t.”

“What do you mean, ‘not yet’? Then when do you plan on telling us?”

“I suppose when it’s just the three of us left. Let me just tell you one thing, though. My plan won’t work if anyone tries to intervene. So my plan can’t start until we’re the only ones left.”

Shuya fell silent again. He stared at Shogo, who continued smoking, but then Shuya heard a voice whispering something inside his head. It was faint, but he could hear it.

As if he could hear this voice, Shogo grinned.

“I know what you’re thinking, Shuya. There might be something else going on here. I might be joining you just as a means for my own survival. In fact, I might not have a plan at all. Once we’re down to three, I might kill you two and win the game. That would work out nicely for me, right?”

Shuya was slightly intimidated. “That’s not—”

“No?”

Shuya held his tongue and glanced over at Noriko. Noriko remained silent, staring at Shogo.

Shuya looked back at Shogo.

“That’s not it. It’s just that—” Shuya stopped all of a sudden.

It was someone’s voice. It was very distant, but he could tell it was electronically distorted. A voice calling, “Hey, everyone—”

22

The voice continued. “Listen up, everyone—” It was a girl’s voice.

Noriko said, “It’s Yumiko.” She was referring to Yumiko Kusaka (Female Student No. 7). She was a tall, energetic girl who batted fourth on the girls’ Softball team.

“I’m going to go check this out.” Shogo’s face stiffened. He took his shotgun and stood up. He began walking east into the thicket towards the voice.

“We’ll go with you.”

They weren’t done talking, but Shuya tucked his Smith & Wesson in front and offered his shoulder to help Noriko up. Shogo glanced back at them, but said nothing and began walking.

Once they reached the end of the thicket, Shogo stood still. Shuya and Noriko too stopped walking.

With his back towards them, Shogo exclaimed, “Why they’re…”

Shuya walked up right behind Shogo, and like Shogo he and Noriko poked their heads out of the thicket.

It was a mountain peak. There was a viewing platform between the trees scattered on the peak. It was probably five or six hundred meters away from the foot of the mountain, where they were. But they could still see it clearly. The platform was a crude construction, resembling a shack with a missing wall. There were two figures standing under its roof. Shuya’s eyes widened.

The voice reached them. “Everyone. Stop fighting and come here—”

Shuya saw an object held in front of the taller figure’s face—it was probably Yumiko’s. Was it a megaphone? The one cops use to address criminals cooped up inside buildings under siege? It felt slightly absurd (“Put down your weapons and come out with your hands up”), but he could see how her voice could reach not only them but the rest of the island.

“And the other one?” Shuya whispered.

Noriko replied, “It’s Yukiko. Yukiko Kitano. They’re really close.”

“This is really bad,” Shogo said with a grimace. “They’ll get themselves killed totally exposed like that.”

Shuya bit his lower lip. Basically Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano were attempting to convince everyone they should stop fighting. They were doing what Shuya had considered but gave up on after he was attacked by Yoshio Akamatsu. They firmly believed no one really want to play the game. They chose that spot to be as visible as possible. Or maybe they were already near that location.

“I’m sure no one wants to fight like this. So let’s get together here—”

Shuya hesitated. He needed more time to process the situation—plus the conversation they were having hadn’t been resolved. What if—it was unlikely—but what if Shogo was against them?

In the end Shuya spoke to Shogo, “Can you look after Noriko, Shogo?”

Shogo turned around. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going over there.”

Shogo knit his brows and said, “What are you, stupid?”

His putdown angered Shuya, but he simply answered, “What do you mean? They’re risking their lives doing this. They have no intention to play the game. They really don’t. So they can join us. Besides, you just said they were endangering themselves.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Shogo bared his teeth. It was an odd thing to notice, but they looked remarkably healthy. “I just told you. It’s best to stay put in this game. How far do you think that spot is from here? You have no idea who you’ll encounter on the way.”

“I know that!” Shuya shot back.

“No, you don’t get it. Everyone knows about those two now. If anyone attacks them, then the enemy’s going to wait for others offering themselves up like you. With more targets—”

What gave Shuya the creeps wasn’t so much Shogo’s warning but his calm tone of voice.

“Please—everyone come here. We’re alone here—we’re not fighting!”

Shuya slid his shoulder loose from Noriko’s right arm.

“I’m going.”

He gripped the Smith & Wesson and walked out of the bushes, but Shogo tugged on Shuya’s left arm.

“Stop it!”

“Why!?” Shuya’s voice grew louder. “You want me to just sit back and watch them get killed?” He raised his voice uncontrollably and blurted out, “Or is my leaving going to decrease your chances of survival? Is that it? Is that what’s going on? Are you our enemy?”

“Shuya, stop it…” Noriko moaned, but Shuya wasn’t finished—then he saw how calm Shogo looked even as he still held onto his arm.

Although they hardly resembled each other, Shogo’s composure reminded Shuya of the former superintendent of the Charity House, Ms. Anno’s elderly father. After his parents died when he was still a kid, this man, who was the only authority figure and guardian he knew, sat down with him. He also wore the same kind of expression.

Shogo said, “It’s none of my business if you want to die, but if you go now and don’t return, then you’ll drastically decrease Noriko’s chances of survival. Have you forgotten that?”

Shuya took a deep breath. Once again Shogo was right.

“But—”

Shogo calmly continued, “I’m sure you must know this, Shuya… but loving someone always requires you to not love others. If you care about Noriko, don’t go.”

“But…” Shuya felt like crying. “So what are you suggesting? We just let them get killed?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Shogo released Shuya and turned towards the peak where Yumiko continued her shouting. He held his shotgun.

“We’ll be decreasing our chances of survival slightly. Only slightly.” Shogo pointed the shotgun into the air and pulled the trigger. The gunpowder blast was ear-shattering. Shuya thought his eardrums had been blown out for a moment. The sound reverberated against the side of the mountain. Shogo’s left hand pumped the shotgun, ejecting the spent cartridge. He followed with another shot. The sound rippled through the air.

I get it. The gunfire will scare off Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano, forcing them to stop and go hide instead.

Yumiko’s voice, amplified by the megaphone, stopped. It felt as if Yumiko and Yukiko were looking down where they were. But we’re hidden by the bushes, so they probably can’t tell who we are.

“Come on! Shoot some more!”

Shuya was riled up, but Shogo refused, “No. Someone might have already figured out our location with those two shots. Any more could be fatal for us.”

Shuya considered it. Then he tried to point his Smith & Wesson into the air.

Shogo once again tugged at his arm.

“Stop it! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“But—”

“We can only hope they’ve hidden themselves now.”

Shuya looked over at the peak. Then he heard it again. Once again, Yumiko Kusaka’s voice shouted, “Stop it! I know none of us want to fight—”

Shuya shook off Shogo’s grip. He couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted them to hide somewhere safe no matter what. He had his fingers on the trigger of the Smith & Wesson when—

All of a sudden they heard a distant, rattling sound like that of rapid typewriter tapping. Then Yumiko’s shriek, “Urgh—” reached them. Of course her cry was also amplified by the megaphone. After a moment’s pause, “AIEEE—” a scream that sounded like it came from Yukiko Kitano. This too reached them courtesy of the cheap megaphone. Under the platform roof on the mountain peak, a tall figure appeared to collapse and Yukiko’s screaming continued, “Yumiko!” followed by a loud thud, the sound of the megaphone hitting the ground. Shuya heard the rattling sound again but this time it was much quieter. Shuya realized the megaphone had also been picking up this sound as well. Once the megaphone was broken, the sound was drastically reduced. And now the figure of Yukiko also collapsed into the shadows of the short trees, disappearing along with Yumiko from their sight.

Shuya and Noriko’s faces turned white.

23

Yukiko Kitano was crawling on the concrete floor of the viewing platform towards Yumiko Kusaka. Her stomach was burning, and she felt paralyzed, but somehow she managed to crawl towards her. Yukiko left a trail of red on the concrete, which was now a canvas of violent brushstrokes.

“Yumiko!” Yukiko let out a shriek that tore through her stomach, but she didn’t care. Her best friend had fallen and was now motionless. That was what mattered to her now.

Yumiko had fallen forward, facing Yukiko, but her eyes were closed. A gooey red pond began to ooze out from under her body.

Once Yukiko reached Yumiko, she struggled to lift her forward. Then she shook her by the shoulders.

“Yumiko! Yumiko!”

As she shouted, a red mist sprayed into Yumiko’s face, but Yukiko didn’t even realize it was coming from her mouth.

Yumiko slowly opened her eyes and gasped, “Yukiko…”

“Yumiko! Wake up!”

Yumiko grimaced. Then she finally managed to utter, “I’m so sorry, Yukiko. I was stupid… you should… hurry… and escape.”

“No!” Yukiko cried and shook her head. “We have to go together! Come on!”

Yukiko frantically looked around. There was no trace of the assailant. They were probably shot at from a distance.

“Hurry!”

She tried to raise Yumiko’s body, but it was impossible. She immediately realized she could barely support her own body. The pain was much worse now, attacking her stomach as she shrieked and fell forward again. She still managed to face Yumiko.

Yumiko’s face was right in front of her eyes. Her glazed eyes stared at Yukiko. She asked in a feeble voice, “You can’t move, Yukiko?”

“Nope,” Yukiko did her best to form a smile. “I guess not.”

“I’m so sorry,” Yumiko quietly apologized again.

“That’s all right. We… we did what we had to… right? Yumiko?”

She could tell Yumiko was about to cry. Although Yukiko thought she wasn’t seriously injured, she was now beginning to rapidly fade. Her eyelids grew heavy.

“Yukiko?”

Yukiko was brought back by Yumiko’s voice.

“What?”

“There’s something I didn’t tell you when we were talking.”

Yumiko smiled a little. “I also had a crush on Shuya.”

For a moment Yukiko didn’t understand what Yumiko was talking about. She couldn’t tell whether this was because it was so unexpected or because she was fading.

Finally though Yumiko’s words knocked at the door of Yukiko’s heart and entered. So… that’s how it was.

Then as her mind sank into the mist, Yukiko remembered a scene. She and Yumiko had gone shopping together. It was a cheap ¥3,000 bargain-sale item, but they’d found a pair of beautiful earrings, and although they hardly ever shared the same tastes—they ended up fussing over who really deserved these earrings. Finally they agreed to split the cost so that both of them would end up with one earring each. That was the first time they actually bought jewelry. And now, as always, that earring was tucked away in the drawer of her desk at home located near the border between Shiroiwa and the neighboring town.

For some reason, Yukiko felt incredibly content. It was strange, given how she was dying.

“Really…” Yukiko said. “Really…”

Yumiko again smiled faintly. Yukiko opened her mouth just once more. She could say one last thing. It was true, she wasn’t sure about religion, but if the Halo Church had ever offered her something beautiful it was Yumiko. We met at the church, and we’ve been together ever since.

“Yumi… ko. I’m so happy that we’ve been—”

As Yukiko was about to say “friends,” Yumiko’s head shook with the sound of a bang. A red hole formed in her right temple—and now Yumiko merely gawked at her. The faraway look she had might have been unintentionally appropriate given their location, the viewing platform.

Yukiko opened her mouth in shock and horror when she heard another pop, this time accompanied by a blow to her head. It was the last sensation she ever felt.

Kazuo Kiriyama (Male Student No. 6) remained crouched so no one outside the platform could see him. He lowered the Walther PPK that had belonged to Mitsuru Numai and picked up the girls’ day packs.

24

After the two shots were fired, Shuya and Noriko remained frozen. Above them, a hawk cried.

After checking the premises, Shogo turned back and said to them, “It’s over. Let’s go back.”

As Shuya held up Noriko by her arm, he looked at Shogo standing above them. His lips trembled uncontrollably.

“What do you mean, ‘It’s over’? You could be a little more considerate.”

Shogo shrugged his shoulders. “Look, this is the way I talk. I’m not good at expressing myself. In any case, now you see, right? Some of our classmates are really up to the task. And let me just add that this wasn’t something Sakamochi and his crew cooked up. They don’t want to die either, so they’re cooped up in that school.”

Shuya still wanted to say something back, but he managed to restrain himself and began walking, holding Noriko’s arm.

As they walked, Noriko said in a hoarse voice, “It’s so terrible… How awful can it get?”

Once they reached their location Shogo said, “We have to get ready, just in case. We’re going to move about a hundred meters.”

“I thought you said it was best to stay put—”

Shogo puckered his lips and shook his head. “You saw what happened. Whoever it was, that bastard is merciless. On top of that, he has a machine gun. He probably figured out where we are. If he does, then we’re better off moving away from here.” He added, “Just a little. We’ll move over just a little.”

25

Yutaka Seto (Male Student No. 12) was running frantically down the slope. He was on his hands and knees, so he was actually crawling through the bushes. His size-S black school coat covering his small body had nearly turned white from dirt. His large eyes had a childish innocence to them, but right now the class clown’s face was contorted with fear.

After he’d left the school building and up until a few moments ago, Yutaka Seto had been hiding out in the bushes near the northern peak, in other words approximately fifty meters below from where Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano were calling to everyone with their megaphone.

Although he was at an angle from them, Yutaka could see them clearly. He kept on hesitating, deliberating over what he should do, but finally right when he decided to join them, he heard the sound of distant gunfire. He thought he could see the two look in the opposite direction from him. Then as he hesitated over whether he should go check it out, within a matter of ten or twenty seconds he heard the sound of rapid-typewriter-rattling gunfire and Yumiko Kusaka’s amplified shriek. He saw her fall. Then Yukiko Kitano was also shot down.

They were probably still alive at that point. But Yutaka just could not bring himself to come out and rescue them. After all he was a born jokester—fighting was just not his thing, and on top of that, his supplied weapon turned out to be a fork, the normal kind you would use to eat spaghetti. Then he heard a gun being fired twice, somewhere beyond his sight. He knew then that the assailant had finished off Yumiko and Yukiko.

The moment he realized this he took his bags and slid down the side of the mountain. I’m the next target! I know it! After all I’m the nearest one!

All of a sudden Yutaka realized he had created a cloud of dust all around him. Oh no! No! This sucks! This blows more than your mama! Hey, now’s not the time to come up with stupid jokes!

Yutaka then changed his approach, keeping his palms (his right hand held the fork, so it was clenched) and shoe soles on the ground to make sure his body wouldn’t slide down the slope. He felt the skin of his hands scraping away, but he didn’t care. Damn, if someone saw me now they’d think it was funny. Ladies and gentlemen, the Human Beetle.

After moving forward like this for several minutes Yutaka finally stopped. Slowly he turned around. Through the trees he could make out the summit where Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano had been killed, but it seemed far. Everything was still. He strained his ears. There was no sound.

Did I escape? Am I safe now?

As if answering his own question, something dug into his shoulder.

Yutaka froze up with fear and shrieked, “Aieee!”

“You fool!” Someone hissed as the grip on his shoulder relaxed and instead a clammy hand covered Yutaka’s mouth. But Yutaka was completely oblivious to this voice, utterly convinced he was caught by the killer, and swung the fork in his hand in a fit of fear.

The fork made a clacking sound and stopped there… For some reason, nothing happened. Yutaka nervously opened his eyes.

The figure in front of him was wearing a school coat. He’d blocked the fork with his large automatic pistol (Beretta M92F). He held the gun in his left hand. Given their respective positions, and the fact that he had his right hand over Yutaka’s mouth, Yutaka’s fork would have stabbed him pretty deep if he were right handed. But this guy was left handed. And there was only one left handed guy in Class B.

“That was dangerous, Yutaka.”

The front of his wet-looking hair was styled with gel. His eyebrows rose at a sharp angle, and beneath them were his piercing but humorous eyes. Finally there was the earring in his left ear. It was Yutaka’s best friend, “The Third Man,” Shinji Mimura (Male Student No. 19), grinning at him and gently removing his hand from his mouth. Stupefied, Yutaka lowered his fork. Then he finally yelled out, “Shinji! It’s you Shinji!”

“You idiot!” Shinji Mimura hissed at Yutaka, and once again shut Yutaka’s mouth while he shouted from relief. Then he let go and said, “This way. Don’t say a word. Just follow me,” and walked ahead of him into the low bushes.

As Yutaka followed him, dazed, he gradually saw how he had descended from the top of the mountain to the more level area below. Within a matter of minutes he’d covered a good distance.

Yutaka then glanced at Shinji Mimura’s back. But then he was suddenly overwhelmed by a horrible idea and felt weak in the knees.

Maybe Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano were killed by… Shinji? Then the killer chasing Yutaka would be him! But then why hasn’t he killed me yet? I mean, come on, I always thought of him as my best friend, and Shinji knows that. If we’re together, Shinji could, for instance, have me keep watch and help him increase his chances of survival. Then, when we’re the last two left, Shinji could kill me. Wow, what a great idea! If this was a video game, that’s what I’d do… You jerk! What are you thinking!?

Yutaka shook off the thought. Shinji didn’t have a machine gun—and nothing else could have made that sound. He was certain he didn’t have one, and besides, most of all, this was Shinji. He was his best friend. He would never kill those girls off like that, as if they were flies.

“What’s wrong, Yutaka?” Shinji turned around and whispered. “Hurry up.”

Once again Yutaka followed Shinji in a daze.

Shinji continued to walk carefully. Once they covered a distance of approximately fifty meters he stopped. With his gun in his right hand, he pointed down toward his feet. “You have to step over this here,” he warned Yutaka. Yutaka narrowed his eyes and noticed a thin, dull piece of thread stretched tightly between the trees.

“Is this—”

“It’s not a trap,” Shinji said after stepping over the thread. “There’s an empty can tied to it over there. Once it’s tugged, we can hear it fall.”

Yutaka nodded, eyes opened wide. Shinji had been hiding out. And this was a kind of tripwire alarm. Impressive. The Third Man was more than just a star athlete.

Yutaka stepped over the thread.

They reached a thicket twenty meters away. Shinji stopped walking. He said to Yutaka, “Let’s sit down.”

Yutaka sat down, facing Shinji. He realized he was still holding his fork. He put it on the ground when all of a sudden he felt a stinging pain from his left palm and right fist. The skin had peeled off, revealing red flesh on his knuckles.

Seeing this, Shinji put down his gun and pulled out what appeared to be a day pack from a nearby bush. He took out his water bottle and towel, doused one end with water, and said, “Give me your hands, Yutaka.” Yutaka held them out, and Shinji wiped them thoroughly, but gently. Then he tore the dry part of the towel into thin shreds and wrapped them around Yutaka’s hands.

Yutaka said, “Thank you.” Then he asked, “So you’ve been hiding here?”

“Yeah,” Shinji smiled and nodded. “I caught a glimpse of you from here moving around in the bushes. You were pretty far away, but I could tell it was you. So even though it was a little risky, I went in your direction.”

Yutaka choked up. Shinji risked his life for my sake.

“It’s dangerous if you don’t move carefully.”

“Uh huh.” Yutaka was about to cry.

“Thanks so much, Shinji.”

“I’m glad…” Shinji exhaled. “Even if I die, I wanted to make sure I got to see you.”

Now Yutaka’s eyes were watering. He held his tears back though and changed the subject, “I was… right near Yumiko and Yukiko. I-I wasn’t able to help them.”

“Yeah,” Shinji nodded. “I saw that too—that’s how I found you. Don’t let it get you down. I wasn’t able to do anything for them either.”

Yutaka nodded. Recalling how Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano were killed only moments ago, he trembled.

26

Shuya, Noriko, and Shogo ended up moving approximately one hundred meters southwest of their previous position. By the time Shogo was done tying the wire around the bushes again, it was already 9 a.m. The sun was high in the sky, and the air smelled like a forest in May. The sea, which was visible as they moved through the trees, glistened a brilliant blue. Islands were scattered across the Seto Inland Sea. If they were hiking, this would have been a prime spot.

But they weren’t. Every single boat that passed by circled around the island at a great distance, tiny as dots, and the nearest one was the gray guard ship in charge of the western region. Even that ship was pretty far, but you could see the machine gun installed at its head.

After Shogo was done setting the wire, he took a deep breath and sat down in front of Shuya and Noriko. Once again he placed his shotgun between his feet.

“What’s wrong? You’re both so quiet now,” Shogo asked.

Shuya looked up at Shogo. He hesitated, and then asked, “What made them do that?”

Shogo lifted his brows. “You mean Yumiko and Yukiko?”

Shuya nodded. After hesitating, he said, “I mean it should have been obvious. They could have anticipated that. I mean, according to the rules of this game…” he sighed, “we’re supposed to kill each other.”

Shogo put another cigarette between his lips and lit it with his disposable lighter. “They seemed close. Weren’t they in some religious group?”

Shuya nodded. They were very normal girls, but there was always something that separated them from the other girls, like Noriko and the neutral faction that included Yukie Utsumi and her friends. He thought it was because of their religion. “They were part of some Shinto religious group called the Halo Church. They have a church located on the Yodo River bank, off the state highway when you’re heading south.”

Shogo exhaled and suggested, “Maybe that was part of it. You know, ‘Love thy neighbor.’”

“No, I don’t think so,” Noriko said. “They weren’t— especially Yumiko—very committed. They said they didn’t really get it, that it was just a social thing.”

Shogo mumbled, “I see,” and looked down. Then he continued, “Well, the good aren’t always saved, and this game is no exception. It can be the irresponsible ones that end up making it. But I respect anyone who stands by their conscience, even at the risk of failing and being rejected by everyone.” He stared back at them. “They tried to believe in their classmates. They must have believed, if we could all get together, then we might end up being saved. We should commend them for that. We couldn’t do that.”

Shuya took a deep breath. Then he agreed, “Yeah.” After a while, Shuya looked up at Shogo again. “I don’t think… you’re an enemy. So I want to trust you.”

Noriko joined in, “Me too. I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

Shogo shook his head and grinned. “I have to tell you, I have no talent cheating girls.”

Shuya grinned back. Then he said, “So why won’t you tell us? No, if you can’t tell us how we’re escaping, that’s fine. But why not? Is it in case we meet up with other people and tell them too much? Is it because the others can’t be trusted? Or that you can’t trust them?”

“Hold off on the interrogation. I’m not that smart.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Shogo rested his elbows against his knees, held his chin, and looked to his side in contemplation. Then he looked back at them. “Shuya. You’re right. I don’t want the others to find out about my plan, and even if you two didn’t tell them, I wouldn’t want the others to even know that you two knew what it was. So I can’t tell you.”

After Shuya thought about it, he exchanged glances with Noriko and nodded. “Okay then, I understand. We’ll trust you. But—”

“Something else bugs you?”

Shuya shook his head. “It just seems like there’s no way out of this situation. So I’m—”

“Perplexed?” Shuya nodded.

Shogo blew out some smoke and rubbed his cigarette into the ground. He ran his hand through his short hair and said, “Nothing is perfect. Most things have flaws.”

“Flaws?”

“Yeah, a weak spot. I’m going to aim for that weak spot.”

Shuya didn’t understand. He squinted his eyes.

Shogo continued, “I know this game better than you two do.”

“How’s that?” Noriko asked.

“Don’t stare at me with those big eyes, girl. I’m shy.”

Noriko gave a blank stare and then smiled a little, asking again, “How?”

Finally Shogo said, “Do you know what happens to the survivor of this game?”

Shuya and Noriko looked at each other and shook their heads. That was right, there was one survivor in the Program. After you manage to make it through this absurd game, the Special Defense Forces soldiers shove you in front of the news cameras so they can have an image of the victor (“Smile. You must smile.”). But they had no idea what happened to the survivor after that.

Shogo looked at Shuya and Noriko and continued, “The winner’s forced to transfer to another school where he or she is ordered not to mention the game and is instructed instead to lead a normal life. That’s all.”

Shuya felt his chest well up inside and his face froze. He stared at Shogo and realized that Noriko was holding her breath.

Shogo said, “I was a student in Third Year Class C, Second District, Kobe, Hyogo Prefecture.” He added, “I survived the Program held in Hyogo Prefecture last year.”

27

Shogo’s face softened as he continued, “They even gave me a card autographed by the Dictator. What an honor that was. It looked like some kid scribbled on it, though I can’t remember the details, since I tossed it into recycling.”

In sharp contrast to Shogo’s cheery voice, Shuya took a deep breath. It was true any third-year junior high school student could get thrown into the Program, but how could you end up in it twice? Of course if he didn’t have to stay back, it would never have happened, but even so the chances were as slim as winning the lottery. But now it all made sense how Shogo was so familiar with the game, how he noticed the sleeping gas, and of course, the scars all over his body… but if it was true it was completely outrageous.

“That’s…” Shuya said, “that’s outrageous.”

Shogo shrugged. “The game was in July, but because I suffered heavy injuries, I was hospitalized for a long time. It gave me time though to study a bunch of things including stuff about this country—but only while lying in bed. The nurses and staff were really generous and brought me books from the library. I guess the hospital was my school. In any case, that was how I ended up repeating third year all over again. But…”

Shogo looked at them.

“…I have to say, even I didn’t expect I’d be in this game again.”

Of course. Shuya recalled their recent—actually it was already three hours ago—conversation. When Shuya asked, “Did you already kill someone before Kyoichi?” and Shogo had answered, “Well, this time, it was my first.”

Noriko then asked. “So those who’ve been selected…” She rephrased the question, perhaps thinking that it sounded too much like winning a sweepstakes prize, “So the ones who’ve been in it already aren’t exempt?”

Shogo grinned. “I suppose not, since I’m here. From what we’re told, classes are chosen randomly by computer, right? My experience gives me the upper hand, but I guess the computer doesn’t exclude me. So here’s another case of perverted equality.”

Shogo cupped his hands around the lighter and lit another cigarette.

“Now you understand how I detected the gas odor. Not to mention…” he pointed at the scar above his left brow, “this scar.”

“How could they?” Noriko said as if she were about to cry. “It’s too awful.”

“Come on, Noriko.” Shogo broke into a smile. “Now I get the chance to save you guys.”

Shuya offered his hand to Shogo.

“What’s this? I can’t read your palm.”

Shuya smiled and shook his head. Then he said, “I’m sorry I suspected you. A handshake. We’re sticking together till the very end.”

Shogo replied, “All right.” He gripped Shuya’s hand and shook it. Noriko smiled in relief.

28

Kinpatsu Sakamochi (supervisor) was sitting at his faculty desk, rummaging through some scattered documents. To the north and south of him, a Special Defense Forces soldier stood by steel-plated windows equipped with gun ports. The lights inside stayed on because the building let hardly any sunlight in. Five or six soldiers were sitting at a desk facing Sakamochi, staring at a row of desktop computer monitors. Another three soldiers were wearing headphones connected to another machine that wasn’t a computer. On the west wall was a large generator powering the lights, computers and other equipment. The generator’s low hum filled up the room over the sound insulation. The other soldiers were taking a break in the room the students had been in.

“Now then, Yumiko Kusaka died at 8:42 a.m. and, uh huh, Yukiko Kitano, she also died at forty-two minutes after the hour.” He combed his long hair back behind his ears. “Ahh—I’m so busy!”

The old black phone on the desk rang, and with his pen still in hand, Sakamochi distractedly picked up the receiver.

“Yes, this is Okishima Island School, Third Year Class B, Shiroiwa Junior High School Program Headquarters,” Sakamochi answered haphazardly, when all of a sudden he stood up straight, cradling the receiver with both hands.

“Yes sir. This is Sakamochi, Superintendent. I appreciate all you’ve recently done for us. Yes sir. My second kid just turned two. Yes, and the wife’s getting bigger by the day with the third. Oh, no. Well, we just want to contribute to our nation, joining the fight against its dwindling youth population. And how can I help you, sir?”

Sakamochi listened for a while, and then smiled, “Ah ha. My oh my. So you’ve got your money on Shogo Kawada? I’m betting on Kazuo Kiriyama. I have my money on him. Well, yes, Shogo Kawada is serious competition. He has experience, which is almost unheard of. Of course he’s still alive. And how are you, sir? My, that’s impressive. Excuse me? The current status? I believe you have access to it on the monitor. The central government’s top secret website—oh, you’re not good with computers? Uh, well sir, then yes, if you could just hold on a moment, sir.”

Sakamochi put down his receiver for a moment and then called on a tough looking soldier sitting in front of the monitors, “Hey, Kato. Is Kawada still with those two?”

The soldier named Kato tapped silently on his keyboard and curtly replied, “He is.”

The radar in the students’ collars enabled them to plot out each student’s location on a map on the monitor. Sakamochi was about to frown at Kato’s gruff attitude, but then realized how Kato was only one of the many problem students he’d had ever since he was a junior high school teacher, so it was nothing new. He picked up the receiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sir. Let’s see. Shogo Kawada is proceeding with two other students. That’s Shuya Nanahara and Noriko Nakagawa. Let’s see. Well, they’re actually talking about escaping together. Would you like to hear our recording of their conversations? Oh yes, sir. Hmm, I’m not sure if he is sincere. I mean it’s hard to say, but I’d say it’s a bluff. Probably. I mean it’s impossible to escape. Oh, and yes, hold on, one moment, sir. Documents, documents. Yes, Shogo Kawada, right? He didn’t appear to have been the controversial type at his previous school. No anti-government actions or statements. Yes. His father died during the previous game. Looks like his father got drunk and provoked the government… but apparently Kawada himself said, ‘Good riddance. He was a bastard anyway.’ Hmmm, they probably didn’t get along. Maybe his father insisted on some compensation. Yessir. If that’s so, then he’s better off with those two than fighting alone. Shuya Nanahara is an excellent athlete, so he’ll be useful. Although Noriko Nakagawa is injured. Yes, our Tahara shot her. Yes, of course. They totally trust Shogo Kawada. Helping an injured girl, I mean, how brilliant. His conversation has been most impressive.”

Offering a subservient smile, Sakamochi raised his brow in response to his caller. He combed back the hair over his right ear with his free right hand.

“Whaaat?” he replied. “That can’t be. I mean that occurred in March. I did receive the report. But if that’s true, then right now… yessir. The central government officials are always prone to exaggeration. Besides, these are junior high school kids. Then they would have known we were listening in on them. Right now there are no signs that any of these students know this. Yessir. So… yes, yes, yessir. Very well then. Oh no, please, I couldn’t possibly accept… well, if you must insist then, thank you very much, sir. Yes, yes. Well then, goodbye.”

Sakamochi took a deep breath and hung up the phone. He held up his pen again and exclaimed, “I’m so busy!” He combed back his hair and began to write frantically on his documents, as if he were clinging to them.

29

When Shinji first found Yutaka Seto, he seemed on edge from the shock of witnessing the deaths of Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano, but after a while he seemed to calm down. In a spot beyond the thick branches, where the warm sunlight poured in, Shinji Mimura was listening closely again. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around. Only the sound of a little bird chirping. Whoever killed Yumiko and Yukiko didn’t seem to have noticed Yutaka and Shinji. Still, he had to be careful.

“Relax when you have to. But also be on your toes when you have to. The point is, make no errors of judgment.”

His uncle had told him this. He was the one who taught him everything. Starting with basketball, he was the man most responsible for the education of the boy known as The Third Man. His uncle had also taught him computer basics. When his uncle showed him how to access foreign internet connections, he warned Shinji, you can never be too careful. And now was one of those times he had to be on his toes. That much was certain.

“Hey, Shinji.” Shinji looked back at Yutaka. Yutaka was leaning against a tree, hugging his knees, staring between them. “Come to think of it, I should have been waiting for you in front of the school. Then we could have been together from the start.” He looked up at Shinji. “But I was too scared…”

Shinji crossed his arms with his Beretta in his left hand.

“I don’t know about that. That might have been dangerous.”

That’s right, Shinji realized, Yutaka probably didn’t know that Mayumi Tendo and Yoshio Akamatsu were killed in front of the school. Besides—

That was when he realized Yutaka was crying. His eyes were filled with tears which began to flow down his cheeks, tracing two thin, white lines down his dirty face.

“What’s wrong?” Shinji asked kindly.

“I…” Yutaka lifted his wounded fist and wiped his eyes with a strip from the towel Shinji had wrapped around his hand. “I’m so pathetic. I-I’m a fool and a coward—” He stopped and then said as if spitting up something stuck in his throat, “I wasn’t able to save her.”

Shinji lifted his brow and glanced at his friend. This was something he didn’t bring up, but since Yutaka did…

Shinji said slowly, “You mean Izumi Kanai.”

Yutaka nodded, still hunched over.

Shinji remembered being in Yutaka’s room when Yutaka told him, with a mix of pride and embarrassment, “I like Izumi Kanai.” And Izumi Kanai ended up being one of the first to die. They were informed of her death by the 6 a.m. announcement. He had no idea where she died. He only knew she died somewhere on the island.

“There wasn’t anything you could do, though,” Shinji said, “Izumi left before you did.”

“But I…” Yutaka continued, his head still hunched over. “I couldn’t even find Izumi. I was so scared… I thought, no, it couldn’t happen to her, she’s all right… I tried convincing myself. Then at six o’clock she was already…”

Shinji listened without saying a word. He heard the chirping again up in the treetops. There might have been another bird. The chirping overlapped, as if the birds were talking to each other.

Suddenly Yutaka looked up at Shinji. “I made up my mind,” he said.

“About?”

His eyes still wet, he directly looked at Shinji. “Revenge. I’m gonna kill that bastard Sakamochi and the rest of the fucking government.”

Shinji was surprised. He stared at Yutaka.

Of course he was also totally pissed off at this game and the government that ran it. He didn’t really know Shuya Nanahara’s best friend Yoshitoki Kuninobu very well—he was a little too laid back for Shinji—but he was a nice guy. And the government brutally murdered him. Then Fumiyo Fujiyoshi, and now as Yutaka said, Izumi Kanai, and then others like Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano, killed right before their eyes, and then more classmates. But—

“But you might as well be committing suicide.”

“I don’t care if I die. What else can I do for Izumi now?” Yutaka stopped and looked at Shinji. “Is it ridiculous for a wimp like me to be saying this?”

“No…” Shinji paused a bit and then shook his head. “Not at all, Yutaka.”

Shinji stared back at Yutaka and then looked up at the cluster of branches above them. He wasn’t surprised by Yutaka’s sudden emotional outburst, though it wasn’t part of with his clownish persona. Here was another side of Yutaka. That’s why they’d been friends for so long. But—

“I don’t care if I die. What else can I do for Izumi now?”

I wonder what it’s like to feel that way about a girl, Shinji wondered as he stared at the olive-colored layer of tree leaves shining brilliantly in the direct sunlight. He had dated girls and slept with three in fact (not bad for a junior high kid, huh?), but he’d never felt that way about a girl the way Yutaka did.

Maybe it had something to do with his parents not getting along. His father saw another woman. (Apparently he was an excellent bureaucrat, but though it might have been presumptuous for his kid to be saying this, he was a vile man. It was unbelievable he could be the brother of Shinji’s uncle, who radiated brilliance.) His mother couldn’t hold anything against his father, and so whether it was flower arrangement or a women’s group, she went from one hobby to another, lost in her own world. They had normal conversations. They did what was necessary. But they didn’t trust each other, and they didn’t help each other. Their mutual disgust accumulated as they grew older…. Well maybe that was what most parents were like.

Ever since Shinji Mimura became his school’s star basketball player, he got popular with the girls—so going out with them was easy. Kissing them was easy. Then after a while sleeping with them was easy too. But he never fell in love with anyone.

Regrettably Shinji had no opportunity to bring this up with his uncle who always had the right answer for everything. It only concerned him recently, and it was already two years since his uncle’s death.

The earring in Shinji’s left ear came from him. His uncle always had it with him. He told Shinji, “The woman I loved wore this. She died a long time ago though.” It was one of Shinji’s prized possessions. After his uncle’s death, he took it as a keepsake without anyone’s permission. He could hear his uncle saying, “You’ll end up becoming jaded at that rate. It’s not a bad thing to love someone and be loved by someone. Hurry up and find yourself a nice girl.”

But he still never found someone he could really fall for.

He remembered how his precocious sister, Ikumi, who was three years younger than him, asked, “Do you want a romantic marriage or an arranged marriage?” and how he’d answered, “I may end up not getting married at all.”

Ikumi. Shinji thought of his sister. I hope you fall in love with someone nice and have a good marriage. I might end up dying without knowing what it’s like to be in love.

Shinji looked back at Yutaka. “Can I ask you something, Yutaka? I’ll apologize in advance if it sounds offensive.”

Yutaka looked blankly at him. “What is it?”

“What was so great about Izumi?”

Yutaka stared at Shinji and then his tear-drenched face broke into a smile. Maybe this would be his way of offering his bouquet of flowers to the dead.

“I don’t know how to say it, but she was so pretty.”

“Pretty?” Shinji repeated, then quickly added, “I mean, I’m not saying she wasn’t.”

Izumi Kanai, well, she wasn’t a dog for sure, but as far as pretty girls went, there was Takako Chigusa (oh, I guess she’s my type), Sakura Ogawa (well, she had Kazuhiko Yamamoto, and those two are gone), and Mitsuko Souma (well, she’s out of the question, no matter how pretty she is).

Yutaka then smiled a little again and said, “When she looked drowsy and rested her cheeks on her hands, she was pretty.”

“When she was watering flowers by the classroom window, the way she touched the leaves, she was pretty.”

“When she dropped the baton at the annual field day and burst into tears afterwards, she was pretty.”

“When she was hanging out during our breaks, listening to Yuka Nakagawa, holding her stomach as she burst out laughing, she was so pretty.”

Ah.

As he listened to these observations, Shinji suddenly felt like he totally understood. Yutaka’s observations didn’t explain anything, but it felt right. Hey Uncle, I think I actually might begin to understand what this is all about.

When Yutaka was done speaking he looked at Shinji.

Shinji looked at him kindly and tilted his head slightly. Then he grinned.

“I thought you’d become a comedian when you grew up but now I think you could be a poet.”

Yutaka smiled too.

Then Shinji said, “Hey.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to say this, but I think Izumi’s really happy to know that someone loves her that much. She’s probably crying right now up there in heaven.”

Compared to Yutaka’s poetic observations, his words sounded cheap, but he had to say it. But now Yutaka’s eyes began to well up with tears again. The tears flowed down his cheeks again. They formed several white stripes on his cheeks.

“You think?” Yutaka replied, all choked up.

Shinji extended his right hand toward Yutaka’s shoulder and gently shook it. “Of course.” Shinji took in a breath and continued, “And as for your revenge, I’m in.”

Still filled with tears, Yutaka’s eyes opened wide. “Really?”

“Yep.” Shinji nodded.

Yes, it was something he’d been wondering about. No, not the stuff about girls. He wondered about his future in this shitty Republic of Greater East Asia.

He’d brought this kind of thing up with Yutaka once before. Yutaka said something like, “I don’t have a clue,” and then added, “At the very least I’ll probably become a comedian.” Shinji had laughed at Yutaka’s facetious reply. But it was a serious concern for him. Actually, it must have been serious for Yutaka too. It was just that Yutaka chose not to bring it up. What it came down to was, as he had once said to Shuya Nanahara, “This is what they call ‘successful fascism.’ Where else in the world could you find something so sinister?” This country was insane. Not just this stupid game, but anyone who showed even the slightest bit of resistance to the government was immediately discarded. The government couldn’t care less even if you were innocent, and continued to cast an intimidating shadow over the lives of everyone who had no other choice but to obey its policies and who found consolation only in the small things that life had to offer. And even when their sources of happiness were taken away, well you just had to bow down and put up with it.

But Shinji began to believe this was wrong, no matter what. No, everyone must have been thinking what he was thinking. But no one would come out with it. Even Shuya Nanahara let off steam by listening to that illegally imported rock music—it never went beyond that though. Shinji began to think he should protest, even if it was dangerous. The more he learned about the world, the more he began to hold this conviction.

Then it happened, two years ago. His uncle’s death. Officially it was reported as an accident. As they asked his family to claim his body, the police informed them he’d been electrocuted while working alone at night at his company’s factory. But something had seemed wrong with his uncle for a while. His uncle seemed preoccupied, which was unusual for him—as usual, Shinji tapped on his uncle’s computer, and then asked, “Is there something wrong?” His uncle was in the middle of replying, “One of my old mates…” but restrained himself and grew evasive, “Oh no, it’s really nothing.”

Old mates.

His uncle hardly ever talked about the past. He’d always change the subject, and Shinji, realizing his uncle avoided talking about it, decided not to dig into his uncle’s past anymore. (When he asked his father, who was his uncle’s older brother, about it, he only replied that it was something Shinji didn’t need to know.) Nevertheless, at the core of his wide range of knowledge that went beyond making legal and illegal distinctions, at the core of every explanation his uncle provided about the world or society, Shinji detected a profound disgust if not hatred towards their nation. And also… a shadow-like presence. Shinji had once told him, “You’re so great.” His uncle only grimaced and replied, “No, you’re wrong. I’m not at all. You couldn’t survive in this country if you really wanted to be good. I’d be dead if I were really a good person.” That was what led Shinji to believe his uncle had fought against the government. But for some reason he stopped. That was what Shinji suspected.

That was also why Shinji was disturbed when he heard his uncle mention his “old mates.” But this was his uncle, so he’d be fine, he assured himself and decided not to bombard him with questions.

But his concern turned out to be right on the mark. Shinji had suspected his uncle’s “old mates,” with whom he’d lost touch, had gotten back in contact him. And though his uncle had probably hesitated, he decided to take on an assignment. And as a result… something happened. It was true that the police in this country had the right to execute civilians without any trial, so usually it wouldn’t matter whether they shot you in an alley or at work. But when the person involved was related to someone important, then it wasn’t unlikely they’d conspire to kill you in the form of an “accident.” Unfortunately, Shinji’s father was a director at a well known firm (in other words, he was a first-class worker according to the Republic’s employment ranking system— with the exception of a top-level government bureaucrat, it was the highest rank), and what was even more upsetting was that if this were true, then that worthless father of his had assisted, however indirectly, the government in “taking care of” his uncle like that.

It couldn’t have been accidental. His uncle would never die from electrocution. That was just too lame!

The original owner of his earring was probably linked to that part of his uncle’s past. Outraged over his uncle’s murder, Shinji swore he’d never bow down to this country.

Of course he knew that his uncle’s statement, “You couldn’t survive if you really wanted to be good,” was also a warning, which turned out to be true in the case of his uncle’s own death. After all you’ve taught me, Shinji thought, I’m going to figure out how to do what you gave up on a long time ago. I… want to be good. That’s what I learned from you after all.

But he had no clear ideas and he hadn’t really taken any action. He had heard of anti-government groups but he had no idea how to contact them. Besides, his uncle told him, “It’s best not to trust groups and movements. They’re not very reliable.” He also thought he was a little too young. And above all he was scared.

But now even if he were lucky enough to escape this stupid game he’d become a fugitive. Then—he came to the ironic conclusion—didn’t that mean he could do as he pleased? Whether he did it in a group or on his own wouldn’t matter. What mattered was that he could give all he had against this government now—this determination welled up inside him.

And now, after talking to Yutaka, he was absolutely certain of it.

Leaving aside this complicated stuff for the moment though, he decided to share his honest feelings on the other topic with Yutaka.

“I really envy you for being in love with someone like that. So if you’re going for it, I’m on your side.”

Yutaka’s lips began to tremble. “Damn, really? You really will?”

“Yeah, I will.” Shinji touched Yutaka’s shoulder and added, “But our first priority is to escape. Killing that bastard Sakamochi wouldn’t even put a dent in the government. If we’re going to go for it, we have to aim as high as we can, right?”

Yutaka nodded. Then he wiped his eyes.

Shinji asked him, “Did you see anyone other than Yukiko and Yumiko?”

His eyes red from rubbing, Yutaka looked at Shinji and shook his head, “Nope. I… ran out of the school and kept on running. Did you see anyone, Shinji?”

Shinji nodded. “When I first left—you probably don’t know this but—Mayumi and Yoshio were killed in front of the school.”

Yutaka’s eyes opened wide. “Really?”

“Yeah. Mayumi was probably killed right as she was leaving.”

“…and Yoshio?”

Shinji answered with his arms folded, “I think Yoshio was the one who killed Mayumi.”

Yutaka’s face stiffened again, “…really?”

“Yeah. Why else would Yoshio, the first one out, be there? Yoshio came back. Then, hiding in the shadows, he probably shot Mayumi…. Since they both had arrows in their bodies, he must have tried to get rid of the next one… but instead his weapon— probably a bow gun, given those arrows—must have been taken by someone else, who then shot him. That’s the most likely scenario.”

“Who was the next one though?…”

“Shuya.”

Yutaka’s eyes widened again. “Shuya? Shuya killed Yoshio?”

Shinji shook his head. “I don’t know. The only thing we know is that Yoshio wasn’t able to kill Shuya. So it was probably Shuya. But maybe Shuya just knocked Yoshio out. He’s got a soft spot after all. And then Yoshio might have been killed by someone who came out later.” Shinji thought about it and added, “Besides, Shuya must have left with Noriko Nakagawa. He might not have had time to finish off Yoshio.”

“Noriko? That’s right, Noriko was shot. And you…”

“Yeah,” Shinji grinned wryly. “Getting the game delayed would have helped. I knew it was impossible but it was worth trying. Noriko came after Shuya. Shuya gave a clear signal to Noriko before he left. I could tell because I was near him.”

Yutaka nodded. “Noriko got shot so Shuya—”

“And given what happened to Yoshitoki—”

Yutaka nodded several times. He completely understood. “I get it… Nobu had a crush on Noriko, right? So Shuya had to take care of Noriko.”

“Yeah. Well, even if that wasn’t the case, given Shuya’s personality, he’d probably planned on gathering everyone who came out after him. But after Yoshio’s attack it was out of the question. Noriko was injured too. So he probably just took off with Noriko as his only partner.”

Yutaka nodded again. Then he looked down. “I wonder where Shuya is. We’d be so strong if Shuya and you were together.”

Shinji raised his brow. Yutaka might have been recalling their powerful combinations when they were paired up in class games. It was true, Shinji also thought, Shuya Nanahara would be a great partner. It wasn’t just his athletic talent. Just like Shinji, Shuya was daring and fearless, with the ability to respond under pressure. He was one of the few classmates he could rely on in this situation. An honest guy like him—and as far as Shinji was concerned a little too spacey—could never kill his classmates.

Shinji placed his right on Yutaka’s shoulder. Yutaka lifted his face. “I’m just glad I’m with you. I’m so glad we’re together.”

Yutaka was once again on the verge of bursting into tears. Shinji gave him a reassuring smile. Yutaka held back his tears and smiled.

Shinji continued, “Enough about the dead. I noticed something. You know how the woods are right in front of the school athletic field?”

“Yeah.”

“There was someone there. A group of students.”

“…really?”

“Yeah. I think they were waiting for someone. Of course, there were only five students left after me. Kyoichi Motobuchi, Kazuhiko Yamamoto, Chisato Matsui, Kaori Minami, and Yoshimi Yahagi. Anyway, they didn’t make any attempts to call out to me. It was a group, so I doubt they would have been hostile right off, but I didn’t have any particular reason to seek them out and join them, either. You just said you should have waited… but under the circumstances that would have been impossible. The fact is that Yoshio probably came back and killed Mayumi. I was thinking that if someone came back there and found that group in the woods they’d be finished. Of course, they might have been armed. Anyway, I booked out of there.”

Shinji stopped. After moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue, he went on, “I also saw two other students.”

Yutaka’s eyes opened wide again. “Really?”

Shinji nodded. “I moved around a lot last night. And one of them was a girl. You know she has that weird hair that stands up—so I think it was Hirono. While I was checking out the foot of the mountain, I saw her moving beyond those bushes.”

“You didn’t call out to her?”

Shinji shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m prejudiced against her. I just don’t trust Mitsuko’s friends.”

Yutaka nodded.

“The other one I saw was Shogo Kawada.”

Yutaka opened his mouth as if to say, wow. He exclaimed, “Shogo-san, huh.” Just like his classmates Yutaka politely referred to Shogo as “Shogo-san.”

“He’s a little intimidating so—”

“Yeah, well, that’s why I avoided him. But…” Shinji glanced up at the sky. Then he looked back at Yutaka. “He seemed to notice me. I’d just left a house where I was searching for some stuff. He was there, around the house, but he immediately took cover in the path between the fields. I think he was carrying a shotgun. I hid behind the door… I think he was checking me out for a while. But then he disappeared. He didn’t try to attack me at all.”

Yutaka responded, “Huh. Then that means he’s not an enemy.”

Shinji shook his head. “Not necessarily. He might have seen my gun and decided he was better off not attacking me. In any case, I decided not to follow him.”

“I see…” Yutaka nodded, but then looked up as if he’d realized something. “I know I haven’t seen anyone, but I could’ve sworn I heard another gun go off before Yumiko and Yukiko were shot.”

Shinji nodded. “I heard it too.”

“It wasn’t a machine gun. Do you think it was aimed at them too?”

“No,” Shinji shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think whoever fired it did it to stop them. It was so obvious what they were doing was risky. The shooter wanted to scare them with the gunfire so they’d run and hide.”

Yutaka leaned forward excitedly, “The-then that shooter isn’t an enemy.”

“Yeah well, we don’t have any way to hook up. Even though I have a rough idea where the gunshot came from, the shooter’s probably already on the move—since the machine gun shooter knows where he is too.”

Disappointed, Yutaka drew back. They fell silent while Shinji continued thinking, his arms folded. Shinji wanted to know if Yutaka had seen anyone they could trust. He thought they could hook up with a classmate if he or she hadn’t moved, but come to think of it, he’d trust anyone Yutaka would trust, so if Yutaka had seen others who were trustworthy Yutaka would have been with them by now. But Yutaka was alone. So the question was pointless.

But in any case, who could he trust? Shuya… and then maybe Hiroki Sugimura? The rest were girls. He could probably trust the class representative, Yukie Utsumi, and her friends, but he didn’t have a good reputation with the girls in his class, probably because he slept around. Ah well. Hey Uncle, I should have found a steady girlfriend, huh?

But how lucky was he to hook up with Yutaka? He could absolutely trust him.

Yutaka asked him, “Hey Shinji. You said you were looking for something.”

Shinji nodded. “I did.”

“What was it? What were you looking for? A weapon? I was too scared. It never even crossed my mind.”

Shinji looked down at his watch. It should be done by now. An hour had elapsed since the machine began its password search.

Shinji got up and tucked his gun in front. “Yutaka, can you move over?” Yutaka moved away from the tree he was leaning against. Beyond it, there were bushes spreading out over the ground, forming a thicket.

Shinji walked over there and stuck his arms into the bushes. Carefully he pulled out the accessories and cables together.

Yutaka looked astonished.

Shinji had pulled out a car battery (the power source), a partially disassembled cell phone, and a laptop computer. They were all connected by a patch of red and white cables.

The liquid crystal monitor display had been left on, with the computer screen display turned off.

Which meant… Shinji puckered his lips and whistled quietly, pressing down on the space bar. The computer, conserving its energy in sleep mode, turned on with the sound of its hard drive spinning and the grayscale display lighting up on the screen.

After searching for the final line in the tiny window on the screen, Shinji’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Geez. Just a switch of vowels. Too simple for me to guess on my own,” he said.

“Hey, Shinji, is this—” Yutaka finally blurted out in amazement. Shinji closed and opened his fists as he always did before tapping away on the keyboard. Then he grinned at Yutaka.

“It’s a Macintosh PowerBook 150. I didn’t expect to find such a good machine on this lousy island.”

30

Yoshimi Yahagi (Female Student No. 21) waited until her watch read 10 a.m. and then cautiously looked out the rear entrance of the house. It was on the southern end of the residential area of the island, so it was far from the house where Megumi Eto was killed, but Yoshimi had no idea Megumi had died there anyway. She just heard her name in this morning’s announcement.

She was more preoccupied with the forbidden zone announced this morning. At 11 a.m. all collars in sector H-8, which included the houses here, would explode. The computer would not respond to pleas for it to wait.

The rear entrance faced a narrow alley that ran between the houses. Yoshimi held the heavy automatic pistol (Colt Government Model .45) with both hands, pulling back the tight hammer with her right thumb. She quickly checked the premises. There was no one in the alley in either direction.

Even though as a member of Mitsuko Souma’s gang she was considered a “delinquent,” her round face had a childish quality. Right now though, it was breaking out in a cold sweat. It was only an hour or two ago that she saw from the second floor window Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano calling on everyone to join them. Then the rattling machine gun. No doubt about it. The killing was continuing. Not everyone was hiding out like she was. There were others willingly killing their classmates. And it was impossible to know where they might show up.

She stepped out and cautiously tiptoed to her right with her back pinned up against the wall of the house where she had been hiding. She turned south at the corner and saw a field extend up a gentle slope. The mild slope was covered with patches of green and headed up to the southern mountain. The houses there weren’t as crowded together as they were here. She decided it was best for her to reach the southern mountain. Then she’d be safe for the time being.

Yoshimi shouldered her day pack, checked around again, then ran out to the small thicket by the field.

She reached it in a matter of seconds. Holding her gun with both hands, she pointed it left and right, but no one was there.

Yoshimi was already panting after that brief excursion. She had further to go, though, to get out of sector H=8. She actually might be beyond the border, but it wasn’t as if there was a white line running on the ground. It was best to err on the side of caution. Otherwise she’d go nuts. There were blue dots on the map indicating houses and the group of houses where she was was cluttered up with so many dots she had no idea exactly where she was. The sector border was at the edge of this clutter.

Yoshimi felt like crying. If she wasn’t in Mitsuko Souma’s gang then she’d have probably found someone, yes, some nice girl she could trust, and joined up with her. But no one trusted her. Well, she’d done some bad things with Mitsuko Souma and Hirono Shimizu. Stealing from, even at times terrorizing her classmates. No one would believe her even if she insisted she meant no harm. They might attack her on sight.

Before she hid in the house last night she saw another girl heading in the opposite direction. She was leaving the residential area. Was it Kayoko Kotohiki (Female Student No. 8)? Maybe she’d first hid in the residential area but then decided against it and moved on. (Her decision proved a good one, since the area became the game’s first forbidden zone.) It was a perfect opportunity to contact someone, given the timing and proximity, but Yoshimi just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

And what about Mitsuko Souma and Hirono Shimizu? It was true they were bad—but they were her friends after all. If she could find them, would they trust her? And could she trust them? No, she probably couldn’t.

Overwhelmed by despair, she thought of a certain boy’s face again. It was the same face she’d been thinking of ever since the game began. The one who said he didn’t care she was with Mitsuko Souma, he still liked her. He kissed her gently on the bed and kindly warned her, “Stay out of trouble.” The boy who made her believe she could actually change.

When she left the school building, she thought he might be waiting for her. But of course there was no one there. Of course there wouldn’t be. There were the corpses of Mayumi Tendo and Yoshio Akamatsu lying on the ground, though. Chances were if you stuck around you’d end up like them. (She had no idea where their killer had gone.)

Where could he possibly be right now? Or was it too late…

She felt her chest tighten. Her eyes filled with tears.

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sailor suit and moved through the thicket towards its edge. She had to move a little further ahead.

Still holding the gun, she looked for her next source of shelter. Now there were several tall trees bunched together on her right with dense, tall weeds all over.

She ran across the field again. Her face was scratched by a small branch as she slid into the edge of the thicket. She got up slowly and looked around. She couldn’t see completely through the thick green shrubbery, but no one was in sight.

Yoshimi still kept low as she crept forward in the thicket. It was all right, it was all right, no one was in the area.

She reached the edge of the thicket. Now the greenery of the southern mountain was right in front of her. Large and small trees and also a dense grove of what looked like bamboo. It looked like there were plenty of places to hide there. All right, all right, then I just have to get there…

Suddenly, she heard a rustling sound behind her. Her heart leaped.

Yoshimi lowered herself, holding the Colt .45 in her hands, and slowly turned around. The hair on the back of her neck was standing straight up.

She caught a glimpse of a black school coat moving between the trees approximately ten meters away. Her eyes opened wide with fear. Someone was over there. Someone!

Yoshimi clenched her teeth to contain her fear and lowered her head. Her heart was pounding.

She heard another rustling sound.

There wasn’t anyone in the thicket just a moment ago. Someone had come here after her. Why? Was this person after her?

Yoshimi turned pale.

No, not necessarily. The student might just be on the move like her. If she’d been noticed, he or she would have come right after her. She hadn’t been noticed yet. Then it was best to let him pass. Don’t move. Just don’t move.

There was the rustling sound again. The person was moving again. Crouching, Yoshimi could see between the dense leaves the figure moving through the woods. Revealing its profile, it moved from Yoshimi’s right to her left. Oh yes! He’s not headed towards me…

As she sighed though, she suddenly did a double take.

The figure was too far into the trees to see. The rustling sound gradually became distant.

She couldn’t be wrong. Was she just hallucinating out of panic? No, that couldn’t be.

Yoshimi stood up, hunched over, and proceeded to follow the sound. Moving several meters ahead, she looked toward the source of sound in the shade of the dense leaves. In her narrow field of vision she was able to make out the school coat.

Yoshimi put both of her hands on her chest. Had it not been for the gun she held in her hands, she would have looked like she was praying.

But Yoshimi was praying, no doubt. If there were a god who could bring about such a miraculous turn of events, then she was thanking it. She held no particular religious beliefs, but it didn’t matter which god it was. She was grateful. Oh God thank you! I love you!

Yoshimi blurted out as she stood up, “Yoji!”

Yoji Kuramoto (Male Student No. 8) trembled for a moment, but then turned around slowly. His face had a Latin look. His thick-lashed eyes opened wide and then returned to their normal size. For a split second his face seemed to turn blank, but she was convinced it was just her mind playing tricks on her. The face then formed a smile. The smile of the boy who loved her more than anyone else.

“Yoshimi—”

“Yoji!”

Holding her day pack and Colt .45 in her right hand, Yoshimi ran toward Yoji. Her eyes filled with tears.

Yoji held Yoshimi in his arms, gently, but also with reassurance in the tiny space of the thicket.

Then without saying a word Yoji kissed her on the lips. He kissed her eyelids. The tip of her nose too. It was how Yoji always kissed her. It might not have been appropriate, given the circumstances, but she was ecstatic.

After kissing her he looked into her eyes and said, “So you were safe. I was worried about you.”

Remaining in each other’s arms, Yoshimi responded, “Me too, me too.” Tears came rolling out of the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks.

When Yoji left the classroom before her, he took a glance at Yoshimi, who was on the verge of crying as she watched him leave. She had left too, and dawn came. And she had been terrified every single moment until now. But now she was with someone she thought she’d never see alive again.

“I-it’s a miracle,” Yoji said, somewhat belatedly, as if he were in shock. “It really is. I can’t believe it. I thought we’d never see each other again. In this horrible…”

Yoji gently brushed his hands through Yoshimi’s hair while she cried. “It’s going to be all right now. We’ll stay together no matter what happens.”

Yoji’s words sounded reassuring and tears came gushing out from her eyes. The rules only allowed one survivor, but I get to be with the one I love most. There was something about a time limit, but we’ll just stay together until time runs out. If someone attacks us, Yoji will protect us. Oh God tell me I’m not dreaming.

Yoshimi remembered everything that happened between them since she met Yoji in their second year, when they ended up classmates. That special autumn day, when they bumped into each other on the street and decided to go to a movie together, then Christmas, then the strawberry shortcake they ordered and split at the cafe, that night’s kiss, New Year’s, dressing up in a long-sleeved kimono for the first temple visit (the sacred lot she drew was only “fair luck.” while his was “very good luck,” and he gave her his), and the unforgettable Saturday, January 18th, the night she spent at Yoji’s house.

“Where have you been?” Yoshimi asked.

Yoji pointed to the group of houses. “In a house over there. But you know this collar—if I stay there, it’s supposed to explode. So…”

Yoji looked serious, but Yoshimi thought it was funny. They were right near each other! She’d been wondering ever since the game began where could he be, only to find out he was right nearby.

“What’s up?”

“I was hiding in one of those houses too. We were probably right next door to each other.”

They laughed. Yoshimi realized how wonderful it was to share a laugh with someone you loved. It might be considered trivial, but no, it was essential. And now it was hers once again.

Yoji slowly let go of Yoshimi. His eyes suddenly fell on her right hand. Realizing she was still holding the gun, she burst out, “Ha ha ha. I forgot…”

Yoji also smiled. “Nice weapon. Look what I ended up with.”

He showed her what he’d been holding. She hadn’t noticed it at all. On closer look, she saw that it was a dagger, the kind you might see in an antique store. The strip of thread wrapped around the grip was worn out, the oval-shaped guard had turned greenish blue, and as Yoji revealed by pulling the dagger out of its sheath, the blade was spotted with rust. Yoji returned the blade to its sheath and tucked it in his belt.

“Hey, let me check that out,” Yoji said.

She offered the gun to him. “You hold onto it. I doubt I can do much with it.”

Yoji nodded and took the Colt .45. He held the grip and checked the safety. He pulled the slide, revealing the first bullet in the chamber. The hammer was still cocked.

“You have bullets for this?”

The gun’s cartridge was fully loaded. Yoshimi nodded, took the box of bullets out of her day pack, and handed it over to him. Yoji took it with one hand, opening it up with his thumb to check the contents. Then he tucked it into his uniform pocket.

All of a sudden… Yoshimi couldn’t believe her eyes. She was completely clueless as to what was going on—as if she were watching some baffling magic trick—as she looked at Yoji’s hands.

Yoji was pointing the Colt .45 at her.

“Yoji?”

After repeating his name, she saw how Yoji had become a different person.

His face was contorted. The thick-lashed eyes, the large hooked nose, his wide lips—each part of his face looked the same as before, but she’d never seen this expression with its twisted mouth, revealing its teeth.

The contorted mouth spat out these words, “Go away. Get out of here!”

Yoshimi didn’t understand what he meant.

Yoji sounded irritated. “I said get away from me!”

Still in a daze, her lips quivered, “Why?”

As if fed up with her, Yoji cried out, “You expect me to be with a bitch like you!? Get out of here, bitch!”

Something inside of Yoshimi began to crumble, first slowly, then quickly.

“Why?” Yoshimi’s voice trembled. “Did I… did I do something wrong?”

The gun was still aimed at her. Yoji spat to his side.

“Give me a break. Even I know you’re a slut. I know you’ve been arrested by the cops. On top of that you slept with a guy old enough to be your dad. I know that too! You expect me to trust a bitch like you!?”

Yoshimi’s jaw dropped as she stared at Yoji’s face.

It was all true. She’d been arrested several times for stealing, and the police had taken her in once for blackmailing a high school student. And then there was… prostitution. A while ago Yoshimi had slept with some middle-aged men Mitsuko Souma had introduced her to. The money was good, she wasn’t the only one doing it, and at that time of her life she was getting so fed up with everything. So wearing makeup she’d never worn, acting like an adult, and being with men who seemed in their own way generous—it didn’t seem like a bad thing. Yoshimi assumed Yoji had known all this about her.

Ever since she started dating Yoji that autumn day, she had put an end to all of that. Of course she continued being friends with Mitsuko Souma and Hirono Shimizu. It wasn’t like she was suddenly a star pupil, but she did stop prostituting herself, and she did her best to keep herself out of trouble. And she’d believed Yoji forgave her and loved her anyway.

…that’s what I believed all along.

A tear rolled down Yoshimi’s cheek.

“I-I stopped doing that.” Different tears began streaming down her cheeks. “I wanted to be… I wanted to be good to you, Yoji.”

Yoji stared at Yoshimi as if her words had completely shaken him up.

But then his expression returned.

“You liar! Stop pretending to cry!”

Yoshimi stared at Yoji with her wet eyes. Words came tumbling out, “Then… then why did you go out with me?”

Yoji immediately replied, “Come on, I thought a slut like you’d be easy! Get out of here! Bitch!”

Suddenly prompted by some force, Yoshimi ran towards Yoji. It might have been because she couldn’t bear listening to Yoji anymore, or maybe it was because she couldn’t deal with the fact that Yoji was pointing a gun at her. “Stop it! Please stop it!” she cried and tried to grab the gun from his hand.

Yoji quickly dodged her and shoved her. The day pack slid off her shoulder down to her left hand, and Yoshimi fell back on the grass.

Yoji pinned Yoshimi down.

“What the hell are you doing!? Bitch! You tried to kill me! I’ll kill you, bitch!”

Yoji pointed his gun at her while Yoshimi frantically grabbed his right wrist with both her hands. Yoji immediately shifted the gun from his right hand to his left. Yoji’s hand moved slowly downward. To her forehead! Yoshimi felt her heart pounding.

Yoshimi stuck out her hands and cried in desperation.

“Yoji! Please! Please stop it, Yoji!”

Yoji said nothing. His bloodshot eyes glared down at her. His arm came down methodically, like a machine. Five more centimeters… four… three… the bullet could now brush her hair. Two more centimeters, and…

Though she was torn up with sadness and fear, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

She understood everything now. She didn’t want to, but it turned out the person she adored was only an illusion. Still…

Still, it was a wonderful illusion. With Yoji, she thought she could start over. It was Yoji who gave her that illusion. Without Yoji she would never have believed it could happen.

Oh, that time we ate ice cream at the only burger joint in Shiroiwa… she had ice cream on her nose and Yoji said, “You are so cute.” Even now she believed he’d been sincere.

I loved you.

Yoshimi suddenly relaxed her arms. Yoji cocked the gun and placed it against her forehead. His finger was ready to pull the trigger.

Yoshimi stared back at Yoji and quietly said, “Thank you, Yoji. I was so happy being with you.”

Yoji’s eyes opened wide and remained frozen, as if he’d suddenly realized something important.

“Go ahead… shoot me.”

Yoshimi smiled warmly and closed her eyes.

Pointing the gun at her, Yoji began to tremble.

Yoshimi waited for the burning bullet to pierce her head, but the gun wouldn’t fire.

Instead she heard his hoarse voice, “Yoshimi…”

Yoshimi slowly opened her eyes again.

They met Yoji’s. Through the thin film of her tears, she saw how his eyes were now those of her beloved Yoji. They were even filled with remorse and self-reproach.

Ah—

So he understands—Yoji—is it true?

TUNK! It was a pleasant but somewhat strange, damp sound.

Simultaneously, Yoji’s right finger pulled the trigger. But it was on accident, the result of his finger’s reflex. The gunshot exploded like a firecracker and made her shriek, but the muzzle had already been pointed away from her, and the bullet lodged into the patch of grass above her head. A tiny cloud of dirt rose in the air.

Yoji’s lifeless body fell on top of Yoshimi. He remained motionless.

As she tried to pry herself loose, she saw someone smile over the shoulders of Yoji’s black school coat. It was her old partner in crime, Mitsuko Souma.

Yoshimi had no idea what was going on. She only knew that the smile on this angelic, adorable, beautiful face absolutely terrified her.

Mitsuko asked Yoshimi if she was all right as she grabbed her hand and pulled her out from under Yoji’s body.

Yoshimi staggered to her feet in the bushes and looked down. An extremely sharp sickle (a sickle! as one of the more urban girls in Shiroiwa, Yoshimi had never seen one before) was planted in the back of Yoji’s head.

Leaving aside the sickle for now, Mitsuko immediately went for the Colt .45 in Yoji’s right hand. His muscles had tightened, so she had to pry each stiff finger loose. The gun was finally in her hands, and she grinned.

Yoshimi looked down at Yoji’s lifeless body, trembling. She was trembling violently. Uncontrollably. In one flourish she had just lost someone incredibly important to her. It was like the sensation she had when a precious glass ornament she had as a child accidentally fell and shattered on the floor. But… this was far more precious.

Yoshimi came to her senses and looked at Mitsuko (of course she had been looking at her all this time, but she was too incapacitated to process this visual information), who proceeded to wrestle with the sickle to dislodge it from the back of Yoji’s head. She gripped the handle with both hands and tried shaking it loose, swinging Yoji’s head along with it.

“No!”

Yoshimi screamed and shoved Mitsuko aside. Mitsuko fell back onto the grass, exposing her well formed legs, from the hem of her pleated skirt up to her thighs.

Yoshimi shielded Yoji’s body. The sickle was still planted in his skull. Her tears fell onto his body. The sickle was telling her: shaking me won’t revive me, don’t shake me, there’s a sickle stuck in me, man, that hurts.

Her chest tightened with waves of remorse. She felt as if she were drowning, as if the world were coming to an end. She thought of the cause behind all of this, and her tearstained eyes glared fiercely at Mitsuko. If looks could kill, her glare would have. Yoshimi couldn’t care less now what kind of game this was or who her enemies and allies were. If anyone was her worst enemy, it was Mitsuko Souma, who’d killed her love.

“Why’d you kill him!?” The words sounded empty to Yoshimi. She felt as if she had become a hollow bag in a human shape. But the words came pouring out. The human body could do strange things.

“Why! Why’d you kill him!? It’s horrible! It’s just too awful! You’re evil! Why’d you have to kill him!? Why!?”

Mitsuko contorted her mouth in an expression of dissatisfaction. “You were about to get killed. I saved you.”

“No! I got Yoji to understand me! You’re so evil! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! Yoji understood me!”

Mitsuko shook her head and shrugged, pointing the .45 at her. Yoshimi’s eyes opened wide.

And so Yoshimi heard the dry pop one more time. Her forehead felt as if it were being crushed by a car. That was all.

Yoshimi Yahagi fell onto the corpse of her beloved Yoji Kuramoto and remained motionless. The .45 caliber bullet had demolished the back of her head. But her mouth remained open as if she were screaming and blood came flowing out from its side. It soaked Yoji’s school coat, oozing out into a dark patch.

Mitsuko lowered the smoking Colt .45 and shrugged again. She’d planned on using Yoshimi to shield her from bullets.

She leaned over and whispered into the ear of Yoshimi’s half-destroyed head, “I’m sure he understood.” There was a strange topping of gray jelly brains and blood on her earlobe. “I killed him because it looked like he wasn’t going to kill you after all.”

Then, once again, she proceeded to pry loose the sickle from Yoji’s head.

31

The faint sound reached Shuya and the others. Shuya looked up. Then they heard it again. They waited, but that was it. They only heard the rustling sound of treetops deep inside the thicket shaking in the wind.

Shuya looked at Shogo, who was sitting next to him.

“Was that a gunshot?”

“That was a gunshot.”

“Then someone’s already—” Noriko began to speak, but Shogo shook his head and responded, “We don’t know for sure.”

They had all remained silent for several minutes, but the gunfire prompted discussion.

Shogo spoke up, “Look, as long as you trust me, it’s cool but… like I said before, we have to survive till the very end. So I just want to make sure.” Shogo looked over at Shuya. “Are you willing to be merciless against the enemy, Shuya?”

Shuya swallowed deeply. “You mean the government?”

“Including them, yeah.” Shogo continued, “As well as your other classmates, if and when they attack us.”

Shuya nodded slightly and then answered, “If that’s what it comes down to, I will.” His voice sounded feeble, though.

“Even if the classmate was female?”

Shuya’s lips tightened as he looked back at Shogo. He looked down again. “If I have to I will.”

“All right then. As long as we’re on common ground.” Shogo nodded and grabbed the shotgun resting on his crossed legs. Then he added, “Someone else will finish you off if you get too hung up on every person you kill.”

Shuya was about to say something but hesitated. He decided it was best not ask, but couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “So you were merciless a year ago?”

Shogo shrugged. “I killed. You want to hear the details? How many guys I killed? How many girls I killed until I won?”

Noriko crossed her arms over her chest and brought in her elbows.

“No… forget it.” Shuya shook his head. “That’s pointless.”

They fell silent again. Then Shogo said, as if offering an explanation, “I had no choice. Some of them lost their minds—and then some were willingly killing as many as they could. Most of my friends died pretty quickly, and I didn’t have any time to hook up with anyone. And I-I just couldn’t offer myself up and get killed by someone.” He paused and added, “I also had something I had to do, so I couldn’t die.”

Shuya lifted his face. “What’s that?”

“Come on, it’s so obvious.” Shogo smiled a little, but his eyes glimmered fiercely all of a sudden. “I was going to tear up this fucked up country, this country that tosses us into this fucked up game.”

Watching Shogo’s lips tremble in anger, Shuya thought, he’s just like me. He wants to bring down these assholes in charge of this game, these assholes who won’t think twice about making us play this fucked up game of musical chairs, this game of mutual fear and loathing. He wants to send them to hell just like me.

Or maybe… Shogo mentioned in passing he’d lost his friends early on, but I bet he lost someone equally important as Yoshitoki was to me.

Shuya thought of asking him about this, but didn’t. Instead he asked, “You said you’d done a lot of studying—so that was for this purpose?”

Shogo nodded, “Yeah. I would have done something against this country eventually.”

“Like what?”

Shogo only grimaced. “I wonder.” He shook his head. “It’s not so easy bringing down a system that’s already built up. But I would have done something. Well no, I’m still going to. That’s why I have to survive this time too.”

Shuya looked down at the revolver and looked up. Another question had occurred to him.

“Can you tell me something?”

“What?”

“What’s the purpose of this game? How could this serve any useful purpose?”

Shogo’s eyes widened, but then he looked down and began to chuckle. He found it funny. Then he finally said, “There is no purpose.”

Noriko raised her voice. “But they insist it has some military purpose.”

Shogo kept on smiling and shook his head. “That’s just crazy nonsense. Of course this whole country’s insane, so maybe it’s completely rational.”

Shuya felt a rush of anger once again as he spoke, “Then how could this go on for so long?”

“That’s easy. Because there’s no one speaking out against it. That’s why it’s still going on.”

Seeing how Shuya and Noriko were at a loss for words, Shogo added, “Look, this country’s run by a bunch of idiot bureaucrats. In fact you have to be an idiot to be a bureaucrat. My guess is that when this lovely game was first proposed—some crazy military strategist probably came up with it—there was no opposition. You don’t want to stir things up by questioning the specialists. And it’s terribly difficult to end something that’s already been established. You interfere, and you’re out of a job. No, worse yet, you might be sent to a forced labor camp for ideological deviation. Even if everyone were against it, no one could say it out loud. That’s why nothing changes. There are a lot of screwed up things in this country but they all boil down to the same thing—fascism.”

Shogo looked at Noriko and Shuya. He added, “You two, and the same applies to me, we cant say anything. Even if you think something’s wrong, your life is too precious to risk it by protesting, right?”

Shuya couldn’t say anything back. His hot flash of anger all of a sudden went cold.

“It’s shameful,” Noriko said.

Shuya looked at Noriko. Noriko looked down sadly. He agreed. He felt the same way.

“Did you know there was a country called the South Korean People’s Republic?” Shogo asked. Shuya looked at Shogo, who was staring at a pink azalea flower on a tree branch right in front of them.

It seemed irrelevant, but Shuya answered anyway, “Yeah, it was the southern half of the current Democratic Nation of the Korean Peninsula, right?”

You could learn about what was known as the South Korean People’s Republic and the Democratic Nation of the Korean Peninsula—and the civil strife between the two Korean nations immediately west of the Republic of Greater East Asia’s inland sea—in a textbook: “Although our relations with SKPR were cordial, due to conspiracies concocted by the imperialists of the United States and the DNKP, the SKPR was annexed by the DNKP.” (Of course, following this explanation, the summary would continue, “Our nation must immediately oust the Korean Peninsula imperialists and annex this country not only for the freedom and democracy of the Korean people, but in order to progress towards our goal in attaining the co-existence of Greater East Asia peoples.”

“That’s right,” Shogo nodded. “That country was just like ours. An oppressive government and dictator, ideological propaganda, isolationism, and information control. And support for snitching. It failed though after forty years. But the Republic of Greater East Asia is doing quite well. Why do you think that is?”

Shuya thought about it. He hadn’t really given it much thought, but the textbooks explained South Korea’s defeat as “a cunning conspiracy instigated by the imperialists including the American imperialists” (The vocabulary employed in these textbook explanations was beyond junior high level.) But then why was the current Greater East Asia still prosperous? Of course the SKPR was geographically located right next to the DNKP but…

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Shogo looked at Shuya and nodded. “First of all, it’s a question of balance.”

“Balance?”

“Yes. The SKPR was totalitarian—of course, this country is essentially totalitarian. But it employs a subtle, well, this just might have been a fortunate result, but it skillfully managed to leave little bits of freedom intact. By providing this kind of candy, they can proclaim, ‘Of course, every citizen has the right to freedom. However, freedom must be controlled for the sake of the public good.’ The claim actually sounds legit, huh?”

Shuya and Noriko silently waited for Shogo to continue.

“That was how the country became this way. Seventy-five years ago.”

Noriko interrupted him, “Seventy-five years ago?” Hugging her knees under her pleated skirt, Noriko tilted her head with a puzzled look on her face.

Noriko then looked over at Shuya. Shuya nodded and then looked back at Shogo. “I heard something about how the history they teach us is a big lie and that the current Dictator is hardly the 325th Dictator. In fact, he’s only supposed to be the twelfth one, right?”

Shinji Mimura had told him this. Noriko wouldn’t know. It would never be taught at school and most adults kept their mouths shut about it (maybe they didn’t even know), and even Shuya was appalled when he first heard it from Shinji. After all, this meant that before the appearance of the First Dictator less than eighty years ago—in other words, before the Great Revolution—the name of the country and system of government had been totally different. (Shinji had claimed, “Apparently, it was a feudal society. People wore these psychedelic hair styles called chonmage, and there was a caste system. But to be blunt, it was better than what we have today”)

Shuya glanced at Noriko’s surprised face, but when he heard Shogo’s next statement, “Well, even that might not be true,” he raised his brow.

“What do you mean?”

Shogo smiled and said, “There is no Dictator. He doesn’t exist. He’s just made up. That’s what I heard.”

“What?”

“That can’t be…” Noriko said hoarsely, “but we see him on the news… and on New Year’s he makes an appearance in front of everyone at his palace…”

“Right.” Shogo grinned. “But who is this ‘everyone at the palace’? Have you ever met someone who was actually there? What if they were actors too, just like the Dictator?”

Shuya considered the possibility… It made him nauseous. Nothing but lies, there was no truth. Everything felt uncertain.

“Is that really true?” he asked despondently.

“I don’t know. It’s just something I heard. But it seems likely to me.”

“Where did you get that information? By computer on that thing called the Net?”

Shuya thought of Shinji Mimura when he asked him this, but Shogo only grinned again.

“Unfortunately, I’m no good with computers, but there are ways to find out if you want to. It seems likely, because that would allow the government to have no supreme authority. That way everyone at the center of the government would be equal. They would have equal freedom. Which means that their responsibilities are also equal. There would be no inequality. There’d be no objections. The only thing is that there has to be some subtle trick going on. The whole charade has to be kept secret from the general public. The leader figure just has to play a charismatic role.”

Shogo took a deep breath and continued, “Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. To get back to what I was saying, the country implemented this system, and it just kept on successfully evolving. What I mean by ‘success’ is that it succeeded as an industrialized nation. Even though the country stuck to isolationism, it traded with other countries that remained neutral, not only to us but to America as well, and imported raw materials from them and sold products to them. The products sold well. Of course they would. Their quality is really high. Serious competition against the U.S. The only things this country lags behind in are space technology and computers. But the high quality comes as a result of the individual’s subservience to the group and an oppressive government. Still…” he stopped.

He shook his head and continued, “I have a feeling that once we’ve reached this level of success even the people themselves are afraid of changing the system. With this kind of success, and this high standard of living, they won’t be willing to make a few sacrifices, even if there may be a few little problems. And overthrowing the government would be out of the question.”

Shogo looked over at Shuya again and gave him a sarcastic smile. “And one of the ‘few little problems’? This wonderful game. Of course the students and their families might have been dealt a bad hand, but they’re a small minority. Even the families eventually let it go. Sorrow passes with time.”

Shogo’s winding explanation finally returned to this stupid game, the pride of the Republic of Greater East Asia. Perhaps it was Shuya’s grim frown that made Shogo ask, “What’s up?”

Shuya replied, “I feel like puking.” He finally began to understand exactly what Shinji Mimura meant when he said, “This is what they call ‘successful fascism.’ Where else in the world could you find something so sinister?” Shinji must have known and understood long ago everything Shuya had just learned.

“Ha! Wait till you hear this one. It’ll make you sick.” Shogo almost looked as if he were relishing this as he continued, “I think that the fundamental difference between the SKPR and this country is ethnic.”

“Ethnic?”

Shogo nodded. “Yeah. In other words, I think that this system is tailor-made to fit the people of this country. In other words, their subservience to superiors. Blind submission. Dependence on others and group mentality. Conservatism and passive acceptance. Once they’re taught something’s supposedly a noble cause by serving the public good, they can reassure themselves they’ve done something good, even if it means snitching. It’s pathetic. There’s no room for pride, and you can forget about being rational. They can’t think for themselves. Anything complicated enough sends their heads reeling. Makes me want to puke.”

He was exactly right. It was completely revolting. Shuya felt his stomach turn.

That was when Noriko interrupted Shogo, “I don’t agree at all.”

Shuya and Shogo looked at Noriko. The way she was hugging her knees and hunched over, Shuya thought she was tired out. But she looked at both of them and spoke clearly, “I didn’t know about this. This is the first time I’ve ever heard any of this. But if what you just said is really true, and if everybody were really informed, I don’t think they would sit still__It’s because no one knows about this that we’ve ended up in this situation. You say we’ve always been like this, but I refuse to believe that. I’m not saying we’re especially noble, but I think we’re just as capable as any other people on this planet of dunking responsibly.”

Shogo responded with a surprisingly kind and gentle smile. “I like what you just said.”

Shuya meanwhile all of a sudden saw Noriko in a different light. She didn’t really stick out in class, nor was she so outspoken she’d express her opinions the way she had just done now. It was odd, but ever since this game began he was seeing another side of Noriko. And maybe—it might only mean Shuya had been totally ignorant—Yoshitoki had perceived this side of her long ago.

Anyway it was a much more admirable response than his knee-jerk “It makes me want to puke.” Once again she was absolutely right. No matter what, this was their country, the place where they were born and grew up (although he wasn’t so sure how much more growing up was left for them). The U.S., a.k.a. the American Empire, might liberate this country some time in the future, but the fact was that this was their deal. They shouldn’t, and in the end they couldn’t, rely on others.

Shuya looked over at Shogo and asked him, “Hey Shogo. Do you think we can change this country?”

Much to Shuya’s disappointment Shogo shook his head. He thought that, given his pledge to “tear up this fucked up country,” he would reply affirmatively, that they would change it.

Shuya said somewhat clumsily, “But you just said you’d tear up this country.”

Shogo lit a cigarette, which he hadn’t done in a while, and then folded his arms. “I’ll tell you what I think.” He unfolded his arms, removed the cigarette from his lips, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I think history comes in waves.”

Shuya didn’t understand, but before he could ask what he meant, Shogo continued, “At some point in time, when the situation is ripe, this country will change. I don’t know whether it will happen in the form of a war or a revolution. And I have no idea when the time will come. For all I know it may never happen.”

Shogo took another drag and then exhaled. “In any case, right now I don’t think it’s possible. Just like I said, this country is insane, but it’s also well run. Extremely well run.” Shogo pointed at them, the cigarette between his fingers. “Now here we have a rotten nation. If you can’t stand it, then the wisest thing to do would be to abandon it and go somewhere else. There are ways to escape this country. Then you can avoid the stench. You might get homesick once in a while, but life outside would be grand… but I’m not doing that.”

Shuya rubbed his hand against his thigh. He was hoping Shogo’s statement would correspond with his thoughts: I want to do something here because in the end this is my country. Didn’t Bob Marley sing, “Get up, stand up… you can’t fool all the people all the time”?

But Shogo’s response fell short of this expectation.

“I’m doing this for myself. I want revenge… even if it’s for my self-satisfaction… I want to strike against this country. That’s all. I really doubt it’ll actually lead to change in this country in the long run.”

Shuya took a short breath… then uttered, “This sounds hopeless.”

“It is hopeless,” Shogo replied.

32

When they heard the two distant shots, Yutaka cringed. Shinji stopped typing on the keyboard.

“Hey—”

Shinji nodded. “Another gunshot.”

He quickly returned to his computer, though. It seemed harsh, but he couldn’t afford to be concerned with others.

Yutaka looked down at Shinji’s fingers. He was holding the Beretta. Shinji had handed it to his towel-bandaged hand and requested he keep watch.

“Hey, Shinji. What are you trying to find on that laptop? Won’t you tell me now?” After Shinji had booted up the communications software and dialed up with the cellular phone, he kept typing away at that keyboard, only occasionally exclaiming “Bingo! Bingo! Bingo!” or “Oh damn, oh yeah, right,” without giving Yutaka a single explanation.

“Hold on a sec. I’m almost there.”

Shinji was typing again. At the center of the gray screen, English sentences interspersed with “%” and “#” characters streamed by. Shinji seemed to be responding to them.

“All right.”

Shinji stopped typing after the requested data began to download. The basic operation was UNIX, but he’d set up a separate graphics window to indicate the download status in Mac format. Shinji stretched his arms over his head. Now he’d just have to wait for the download to be completed (of course once it was he’d have to rewrite the log entry to erase all traces of his operation). Then he had to come up with a strategy based on the data he received. He’d either have to rewrite the data or come up with his own program to deceive his opponents. The latter would be a hassle, but he probably wouldn’t need more than half a day to do the job.

“Shinji, tell me what’s going on,” Yutaka insisted.

Shinji smiled, moved back from the laptop, and leaned against the tree again. He had to admit, this was exciting. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. It was only natural, though. Although he wasn’t sure when he told Yutaka, “It’s a PowerBook 150,” now he was now certain—they were going to win.

He spoke slowly, “I’ve been trying to figure out how to escape.”

Yutaka nodded.

“And so…” Shinji pointed to his neck. He himself couldn’t see it, but he assumed Yutaka could see the silver collar wrapped around his neck, the same one Yutaka had on his neck. “The first thing I wanted was to get rid of this. This is giving our positions away to that bastard Sakamochi. For example, the fact that we’re together. Thanks to this device, even if we try to escape, they’ll locate us, or worse yet, they can just send a signal to blow up the collars and kill us. So I needed to figure out how to get rid of this collar.”

Shinji opened up his hand. Then he shrugged. “But I gave up. You can’t pry it loose without knowing how it’s built. Sakamochi said it would explode if you took it apart, and I doubt he was bluffing. The outer casing must be loaded with a fuse wire for the device. It’s probably set to ignite once you cut it. It’s too dangerous to cross that bridge. I thought of inserting a metal plate inside the band, but it would be too thin to protect my neck from being blown to bits.”

Yutaka nodded again.

“That’s how I came up with the idea of controlling the school computer that’s tracking us and controlling the ignition signal. Get it?”

It was of course his uncle who’d taught him the basics of computer programming, but ever since his death Shinji was as passionate about improving his skills on his uncle’s computer as he was about basketball. As a result he became extremely adept. He learned how to tap into an international line that was strictly prohibited by the government and obtain even higher levels of computer skills and new information on the entire world through the real internet. (What the nation called “the internet” was really a joke—a closed net referred to as “Greater East Asia Net.”)

While he might not be executed for these actions, they were illegal enough to send him away for a two-year stint at a juvenile prison for ideological offenses. That was how he acquired the skill to escape detection. Of course he never told anyone about it, but he’d shown some websites to Yutaka (mostly pornographic ones, come on, gimme a break). In short, Shinji was good at computer hacking.

“I looked for a personal computer. I already had a cell. I guess you’re allowed to keep your stuff in this stupid game. I should have brought my notes, but I can’t complain, since I found this laptop. Now all I needed was electricity. I yanked that battery out of a car. I had to adjust the voltage, but that was pretty easy.”

As Shinji explained, Yutaka finally began to grasp how the PowerBook and cell phone functioned together. But then a thought suddenly occurred to him and he said, “Hey, but didn’t Sakamochi say we couldn’t use phones? So cell phones are an exception?”

Shinji shook his head. “No, they won’t work. I tried the number for the weather report and Sakamochi’s voice chimed in, ‘A beautiful day at the Shiroiwa Junior High Program Headquarters.’ I was so pissed I immediately hung up. So they’re controlling the nearest cellular transmitter. My guess is none of the phone companies will work here.”

“Then—”

Shinji lifted his finger, interrupting Yutaka. “Think about it. Their communication system has to reach beyond this island. I mean, their computers must be linked to the central government’s for security purposes. Then how would they do that? It’s simple. They’ve selectively employed numbers for military purposes from the cellular phone lines.”

“So that means—”

Shinji interrupted Yutaka again and grinned. “But even if that were the case, I thought they must have at least made some minimal effort to protect themselves from anyone at the telephone company tampering with their lines.”

Shinji reached out for the cell phone on the ground. Then he said, “I didn’t tell you, but my cell is a custom model. It has two types of ROM memory for phone numbers and passwords. You can’t tell looking at it, but you can switch the other one on by turning this screw ninety degrees. And this other number is something I came up with just for fun to make free calls.” He let go of his phone and continued, “It’s the cellular number used by phone company technicians to test phone lines.”

“Then, that means—”

Shinji winked. “That’s right. Bingo! The rest is simple. It was a bit of a pain to hook up the phone modem to the cellular. It’s not like they came with tools. But I managed to do it. So that’s how I got my line. Then I accessed my computer at home. I can’t hack with your average communications software, so I downloaded my special tools—like codebreaking software. Then I went for the prefectural government’s site. The central government’s operations must have high quality security systems, but I figured the prefectural government’s systems would be easy to break into. My hunch turned out to be right.

“Even though this game is directly managed by the central government, it must have some contact with the government branch of the prefecture where the game’s taking place. I was right about that too. There were a lot of unfamiliar addresses in their communications log files. Going through e-mails I found one to the superintendent, notifying him of the game’s commencement. I broke into the sender’s website, in other words, the temporary server for the school building on this island. It took some work, but as I poked around as much as I could without getting caught, I found an operation backup file they’d completely spaced out on. So I took that. In other words, I found a strange code that seemed important. I’ve been having the Mac break the code before I hooked up with you. So that’s what I was up to.”

Shinji reached out for the PowerBook as it continued to download data, opened up another memo file, and showed the immense 24-point display. Yutaka took a look. “Kinpati Sakamocho.”

“Sakamocho?…”

“Yeah. I think it’s Spanish. So the password was a bit complex due to this silly change in vowels. That’s what the password for this system is. That’s how I got free access. I was checking out as much as I could. I completely downloaded the entire data contents of the school’s computer. I’m going to alter the data, go back into that system, and disable these collars. By making the school premises a forbidden zone, they think they’re totally safe against us, but now we’ll be able to attack them by surprise. We’ll have a chance. And once we control the school, we should be able to help out the others. Even if that’s not possible, we can falsify the data to claim we’re dead and then escape this island for good.”

With this brief but intense summary, Shinji took a deep breath and grinned. “What do you think?”

Yutaka looked astonished. “It’s amazing.”

Tickled by his friends response, Shinji smiled. Thanks, Yutaka. It’s always nice to be admired for your talents.

“Shinji?” Yutaka asked, still looking astonished.

Shinji raised his brow. “What is it? You have a question?”

“No.” Yutaka shook his head. “I-I was just wondering.”

“What is it?”

Yutaka looked down and stared down at the Beretta in his hand. Then he looked up. “I was wondering why you’re friends with someone like me.”

Shinji had no idea what Yutaka was talking about. His mouth hung open. Then he asked, “What are you talking about?”

Yutaka looked down again. Then he said, “It’s just that… I mean you’re so awesome. I can see how you’d be friends with someone like Shuya. Shuya’s as athletic as you are, and he’s a great guitar player. But—I’m nothing. So, I was just wondering why you’re friends with me.”

Shinji stared at Yutaka, who kept looking down. Then he began to speak, “That’s ridiculous, Yutaka.”

Hearing Shinji’s gentle voice, Yutaka looked up.

Shinji continued, “I am who I am. And you’re you. Even if I’m pretty good at basketball or computers, or popular with the girls, that’s doesn’t make me a better person. You can make people laugh and you’re kind. When you’re serious, you’re a lot more sincere than I am. Like with girls. I’m not resorting to that cheap cliche about everyone having something to offer, but I am saying there are a lot of things I admire about you.” He shrugged and then smiled. “I like you. We’ve always been buddies. You’re an important friend. My best friend.”

He saw Yutaka’s eyes brimming with tears again. Then, just as before, he said, “Damn, thanks, Shinji. Thanks so much.” Then he wiped away his tears and laughed, “But if you stick around with a crybaby like me you’ll end up drowning before we escape.”

Shinji started to laugh but then—he heard a ring.

He knit his brows and sat up. It was the Macintosh’s standard warning sound.

Shinji knelt in front of the PowerBook and stared at the screen.

His eyes opened wide. A message informed him the line had been disconnected and the download aborted.

“Why?”

Shinji moaned. He began typing rapidly on the keyboard, but he couldn’t save the connection. He quit the UNIX communications software and began working on dialing up the modem with another communication application.

A message appeared, reading, “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.” He received the same message no matter how many times he tried. The connection between the modem and phone appeared to be fine. Just to make sure though, he disconnected the phone from the modem and pressed the digits on the phone directly. He tried the weather report once again.

The cell phone had no signal at all now. Which meant… no, the battery was still fully charged.

That can’t be! Holding the cell phone, Shinji gaped at the PowerBook screen, which was no longer operating. His hacking was undetectable. That’s why it was called hacking. And Shinji had the technique.

“Shinji? What’s wrong, Shinji?”

Yutaka called out to him, but Shinji remained speechless.

33

After the star icon appeared at the edge of the small liquid crystal screen, Hiroki Sugimura (Male Student No. 11) kept close watch. It was the same icon as the one in the center of the screen that had been there ever since he’d turned on this handheld device.

He was in the residential area on the island’s eastern shore. It was going to become a forbidden zone soon. He’d been carefully but quickly moving between the houses, and finally he saw a change in the device. He’d found the device in his day pack. It looked like one of those mobile data terminals salarymen use. The change was the first response the device gave ever since he turned it on at 6 a.m., after he went through the manual. His priority was to sweep the soon-to-be forbidden zones, but the device responded in none of those areas—sector J-2 on the south shore, sector F-1 in the west—and from there he moved here to sector H-8.

Technically speaking, it wasn’t really a weapon. But right now, depending on how he used it, it could prove more useful than any weapon. He wasn’t sure whether he was actually using it properly, though.

Hiroki gripped his stick again with his other hand. (It came off a mop he found inside a shack at the north end of the residential area. If he wanted to he could have taken a large blade, but this was more useful for him, since he’d been studying martial arts ever since he was in elementary school.) He proceeded to move diagonally away from the wood-sided wall he’d been pressed up against. He had a large frame, over 180 cm tall, but he moved dexterously as he pinned himself against the wall of the next house. The star icon was approaching the similar icon in the center.

He remembered the manual explaining the display system and turned his head. It was this house—inside this house.

Hiroki put the device in his pocket and moved around to the house’s backyard.

There was a family garden in the small yard with tomato stalks up to his waist, yams planted in the ground, and green onions. Next to them pansies and chrysanthemums in different colors were in bloom. In front of the garden was a child’s tricycle. Its chrome handlebars sparkled in the noontime light.

The veranda’s storm doors were shut. Opening them might make a big noise. Hiroki circled over to the right.

There was a window. It was broken. He was certain now. There was someone inside. And if he’d read the radar’s manual right then he or she was still there.

Since this area would soon be in a forbidden zone, no one should be here now. So most likely it was a corpse inside. But he had to know for sure.

Hiroki slowly lifted his face to the window and looked in. It was a guest room with tatami floormats.

He slid the window open. It made no sound. He grabbed the window frame and swiftly leaped up like a cat and entered the house.

The room had an alcove. At the center was a low table and a large TV in the corner by the window on Hiroki’s side. There was nothing else. Hiroki tiptoed out of the room.

In the hall he smelled something odd, as if he’d caught a whiff of rusty metal.

He quickly moved down the hall. The smell became stronger.

It came from the kitchen. From inside the shadow of a column, Hiroki peeped in.

He saw a pair of white sneakers and a pair of socks on the floor beyond the table. He could see the legs up to their calves.

Hiroki’s eyes opened wide. He ran over to the table.

A girl in a sailor suit was lying face down. Her face looked away from Hiroki. She was small with short hair, and under her face a puddle of blood formed on the floor. There was a lot, but the surface was already congealing into a dark red.

She was definitely dead. The question was—

Small body. Short hair.

She looked like one of the two girls he was looking for. They were both equally important to him. She resembled one of them. He couldn’t remember whether she was wearing sneakers like these, though.

Hiroki put aside his stick and day pack and knelt down beside the corpse. He touched the girl’s shoulder with his trembling hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he clenched his teeth and turned the body over. The shiny red blood that hadn’t congealed yet gave off a strong odor.

It was a horrible sight. There was a deep gash in her thin throat right above the neck band (which was what in fact led him here). The wound gaped open like a hole, perhaps due to her blood being completely depleted. It resembled an infant’s mouth, still without teeth. The blood had flowed down from the wound, sullying the silver collar then down her chest. Her mouth, nose, and left cheek were all immersed in a pool of blood. He deduced, this must have occurred after she fell. Drops of blood had formed on the tips of her eyelashes above and below her glazed eyes. They had hardened as well.

It was Megumi Eto (Female Student No. 3).

It wasn’t her.

While the horrific state of the corpse had shocked him, he was still relieved. He closed his eyes for a while and took a deep breath. Then he felt guilty for feeling relieved. He gently lifted Megumi’s body, removed her from the pool of blood, and placed her face up. Rigor mortis was setting in, so she felt like a doll. After doing this he closed her eyes. After some thought he tried to fold her arms over her chest, but her body was too stiff now, so he finally gave up.

He grabbed his stick and day pack and stood up. After briefly looking over Megumi’s body, he headed towards the guest room he had entered. It was almost 11 a.m.

34

Time quietly passed. Shogo continued to smoke without uttering a word. Noriko kept quiet too. In the thicket little birds chirped away, and the branches above them rustled in the breeze, letting in a web of light that moved back and forth like a pendulum. You could hear the sound of ocean waves if you listened hard enough. Now that they were settled in the woods, it almost felt as if they were leading a peaceful life.

This partially came from the hope Shuya now had after talking to Shogo. They could escape. And if that was what they wanted, they were best off lying low and waiting. Despite Noriko’s injuries, they were safe as long as they kept a close watch. After all, there were three of them, and two of them had guns.

But Shuya couldn’t stop thinking about the distant gunshots they heard an hour ago.

Had someone else been killed? It could have meant—he didn’t even want to consider it—but it could have been Shinji Mimura or Hiroki Sugimura. Even if it was neither of them, it could have been another innocent classmate. Shuya and Noriko might be saved thanks to Shogo, but the others were living in terror of being killed at any moment.

That was enough to disturb Shuya. Yes, yes, he’d already discussed it with Shogo. Shogo told him it was best to sit still. He was absolutely right. He also said as long as Noriko was injured, they’d be prime targets. Again he was right. But, but was it right for them to sit back like this? Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano kept their faith in the others even though they knew they didn’t have a chance of escaping. On the other hand, with Shogo’s help, he and Noriko had a good chance. But did that mean they shouldn’t be risking their lives?

It was clear someone was a murderer—someone was “intentionally murdering” others. They’d witnessed Yumiko’s and Yukiko’s deaths. And there might be other murderers. In fact the students he’d confronted—Yoshio Akamatsu, Tatsumichi Oki, and Kyoichi Motobuchi—might have all been trying to kill him. He doubted anyone like that would voluntarily join them. No, someone like that would only join them just to betray and kill them when the time was right.

But shouldn’t we at the very least be looking for others we can trust? Even if we try though, there’s no way to tell them apart from the others. If we tried to help everyone, an “enemy” would eventually sneak into our group, and that would mean certain death. Noriko and Shogo would get killed too.

Shuya let out a deep sigh. He racked his brains. No matter how many times he went over it, he came to the same conclusion. There was nothing they could do. He could only hope they’d somehow come across Shinji Mimura and Hiroki Sugimura. But what were the chances that would happen?

“Hey,” Shogo said as he lit another cigarette. Shuya looked at him.

“Stop thinking too much. It’s no use. Just concentrate on yourself and Noriko.”

Shuya lifted his brow. “Are you psychic?”

“Sometimes. Especially when the weather’s this nice.” Shogo took another drag. Then, as if the thought had suddenly occurred to him, he added, “Is it true?”

“What?”

“What Sakamochi said about you. That you have dangerous ideas.”

“Oh, that.” Shuya looked down and nodded.

“What’d you do?” Shogo looked at him mischievously. Shuya returned the look.

There were two things he’d done. The first was how he quit the baseball team. When he entered junior high school, he joined both the baseball team and the music club, but he was turned off by the baseball team’s military-style discipline and win-at-all-costs attitude. (It wasn’t surprising. Baseball was the national pastime. It was the sport the nation endorsed for international tournaments. Unfortunately, baseball was also popular with the American imperialists, so if the national team lost to them in the Olympics, the Baseball Federation directors would all have to commit harakiri.) On top of that, the team’s coach, Mr. Minato, would get on the case of players who weren’t very good, even if they loved the game. So by the second week, Shuya was completely fed up and announced he was quitting in a four-letter diatribe against Mr. Minato and the Baseball Federation. And that was how the golden rookie of Shiroiwa Junior High School embarked on a different path towards becoming a different kind of star (according to him)—a rock ‘n’ roll star. At any rate, this incident didn’t look so good on his school record. But Sakamochi was probably referring to the other thing….

“Nothing,” Shuya replied. “Sakamochi was probably referring to my listening to rock. He was hassling me for being in the music club.”

“Ah,” Shogo nodded, wanting to know more. “You play guitar, right? Is that how you started listening to rock?”

“No. I heard rock, and that was how I started playing guitar. I was at the orphanage”

Shuya recalled the middle-aged handyman who worked at the Charity House. He was upbeat and his thinning hair was slicked back, sticking up at the nape of his neck. (“It’s called a duck’s tail.”) Now he was in a forced labor camp on Sakhalin Island. None of the kids at the orphanage, including Shuya and Yoshitoki, knew the details. When he said goodbye to them, he didn’t offer an explanation and only said, “I’ll be back, Shuya, Yoshitoki. For a while though, I’ll be swinging a pickaxe and belting out ‘Jailhouse Rock.’” Then he gave his old auto-winding wristwatch to Yoshitoki and Gibson electric guitar to Shuya. It was Shuya’s first guitar. Was he doing all right now? He heard that workers at the forced labor camps often died from overwork and malnutrition.

“Someone gave me a tape. He also gave me his electric guitar.”

“Hmm.” Shogo nodded. “Who do you like? Dylan? Lennon? Or Lou Reed?”

Shuya stared back at Shogo. He was taken aback. “I’m impressed.”

It wasn’t easy getting your hands on rock in the Republic of Greater East Asia. Foreign music was strictly monitored by an organization called the Popular Music Judiciary Committee, and any kind of music that remotely resembled rock would never make it through customs. It was treated like an illegal drug. (He’d even seen a poster in the prefectural civil office with the same red-circle-and-diagonal-line pattern placed over a photo of a sleazy-looking longhaired rocker. It read, “Stop Rock.” Great.) Basically, the Republic didn’t like the music’s rhythms, not to mention the lyrics, which might agitate the people. Bob Marley was one of them, but an obvious example would be Lennon’s lines, “You may say I’m a dreamer/But I’m not the only one/I hope some day you’ll join us and the world will be as one.” How could the nation not consider that a threat?

The only music you could find at record stores was domestic, mostly trite idol pop. The most extreme imported music Shuya came across was probably Frank Sinatra. (Although “My Way” might have been appropriate song for this country.)

For a while Shuya thought the handyman with the duck’s tail hairdo was sent to the camps for this, so Shuya thought there was something scary about the tapes and guitar the man had left behind. Apparently he was wrong, though. Once he entered junior high, he found out there were plenty of others who were into rock and owned electric guitars. (Of course Kazumi Shintani was also a huge rock fan!) It was through this group he was able to get dubbed copies of “The Times They Are A-Changin’” and “Stand!”

But that was only within a close knit group. If there had been a survey of the number of students who’d never heard rock, over 90% would have said they hadn’t. (Even those who had would say they hadn’t, so the actual result would be 100%.) Given how broad Shogo’s knowledge seemed to be, it wasn’t that strange for him to be exposed to it, but Dylan and Lennon were pretty extreme artists.

“Don’t look so freaked out,” Shogo said. “I’m a city kid from Kobe. I’m not a bumpkin like you guys from Kagawa. I know something about rock.”

Shuya broke into a slight grin. His guardedness lifted. Then he told Shogo, “My favorite’s Springsteen. I like Van Morrison too, though.”

” ‘Born to Run’ is great. I like Van Morrison’s ‘Whenever God Shines His Light.’”

Shuya gawked and then broke into a grin. “You know a lot!”

Shogo grinned back. “I told you. I’m a city kid.”

Shuya noticed how Noriko stayed silent. He was worried she might feel excluded.

“Noriko, did you say you’ve never listened to rock?”

Noriko gave him a smile and shook her head. “I’ve never really heard it. What’s it like?”

Shuya smiled. “The lyrics are really something. I don’t know how to describe it well, but it’s music that really expresses people’s problems. Of course, songs can be about love, but at times they can be about politics or society, or the way we live our lives, and life itself. Along with the words, the melody and beat help get the message across. Like Springsteen singing, ‘Born to Run’…” Shuya rocked the end of the song, “Together Wendy we can live with the sadness/I’ll love you with all the madness in my soul/Someday girl I don’t know when we’re gonna get to that place where we really want to go/And we’ll walk in the sun…”

He continued by singing the last line softly, “...but tramps like us, baby we were born to run.”

He said to Noriko, “We’ll definitely listen to it some time.”

Noriko opened her eyes and nodded. Under normal circumstances her face might have lit up, but she only responded with a weak smile. Shuya was too tired to notice though.

He told Shogo, “If everyone listened more to rock then this country would come crumbling down.” Just like Noriko said, “It’s because no one knows about this…” Shuya thought rock music revealed everything that was essential. That was why it was banned by the government.

Shogo rubbed his stubby Wild Seven cigarette into the ground. He lit another. Then he said, “Shuya.”

“What?”

“Do you really think rock has that kind of power?”

Shuya nodded enthusiastically. “Of course it does.”

Shogo stared at Shuya and looked away. “I don’t know. It might just serve as an outlet for our frustrations, a convenient way to let off steam. It might be banned, but if you really want to listen to rock, you can. So it also serves as an outlet. That’s what I mean. This country is very clever. Who knows, it might end up promoting rock and roll as a national resource.”

Shuya felt as if he’d been dealt a blow. Rock was his religion, music sheets were the pages of his bible, Springsteen, Van Morrison, and his other heroes were the equivalent of the twelve disciples. Of course he was getting used to being shocked, what with his classmates dying around him, so relatively speaking, it wasn’t that shocking.

Shuya calmed himself down and slowly replied, “I don’t know about that.”

Shogo nodded several times. “I do. In any case, it’s not about being banned or promoted. That’s not what rock’s about. Anyone who wants to hear it should be able to when they want to. That’s what it comes down to, right?”

Shuya thought about this. Then he said, “I never thought about it like that. But I see where you’re coming from.” Then he added, “Incredible. I didn’t realize how perceptive you are.”

Shogo shrugged.

They fell silent for a while.

Then Shuya said, “But… I still do believe rock is powerful. It’s a positive force.”

Which was what Noriko had said about Shuya.

Shogo unwrapped a new pack of cigarettes while he looked at Shuya. Shogo grinned. He lit the cigarette dangling from his mouth. Then he said, “To be honest, I agree with you.”

Shuya smiled back at him.

“It’s ironic that we’re really in that situation though,” Shogo observed.

Shuya was puzzled, “What do you mean?”

“The only thing we can do now is run,” Shogo replied. “We were born to run”

35

Kaori Minami (Female Student No. 20) got up when she heard the faint rustling sound. It came from the grove at the foot of the hill to the north, slightly to the east of the island’s central region. On the map it was designated sector F-8.

She held tightly onto her gun. The gun was a small SIG-Sauer P230 9mm Short automatic pistol. It felt large in Kaori’s small hands.

Without knowing it, Kaori bit her lip. She’d been hearing the same sound over and over once the game began and up until now, while she hid herself here. And every time she was relieved to find out it was only caused by the wind or some small animal (a stray cat?). But that didn’t stop her terror. She bit down and cut open her lip, which was now covered with cuts that had become scabs. This time… it might be an enemy. An enemy… that’s right. One of her classmates would attack her. The images of the corpses of Yoshio Akamatsu and Mayumi Tendo vividly came to mind.

And when she’d left the school, she’d heard a voice coming from the woods in front of her. It was the voice of the school representative, Yukie Utsumi. Then she saw other figures with Yukie in the dark grove. Calling out from the dark, Yukie spoke in a hushed but clear voice, “Kaori! Come join us! It’s just girls! You’re safe with us!”

But… how could she? How could she trust anyone under these circumstances? If she stayed with them, she would have had to constantly watch her back. Kaori ran away from Utsumi’s invitation and in the opposite direction… and now she was here. And now… was that the sound of an enemy approaching?

She waited for a while, holding the gun with both hands, but the sound disappeared.

She waited a little more. The sound was gone.

Kaori let out a sigh of relief. She got down on her knees and crouched down in the shrubs. The crooked leaves touching her cheeks annoyed her, so she changed her position. With the palm of her hands she kept on rubbing her face where the leaves had touched her. Her pimples had given her enough grief. She didn’t want her face to swell up from some poison ivy. Even if she was going to die soon, she didn’t want that.

She felt a chill run down her spine. Die? Am I going to do die? Am I really going to die?

The thought alone was enough to make her heart beat faster. She felt like she was going to have a seizure.

Am I going to die? Am I going to die? Like a crummy CD player unable to ignore a scratch on the disc the ringing words skipped over and over deep inside her head. Am I going to die?

Kaori snatched desperately at the brass locket she wore around her neck underneath her uniform. It popped open, and a bright, cheerful face with long hair smiled at Kaori.

As she concentrated on it, Kaori’s pulse finally managed to slow down and return to its normal pace.

It was a photo of Junya Kenzaki of the pop group Flip Side. He was the most popular member with girls. This special locket was only available to fan club members. Kaori was proud to know she was the only student in her school who had one. (Of course most girls nowadays could care less. Besides, lockets were passé. But Kaori didn’t think so.)

Oh… Junya. I’m all right, right? You’ll protect me, right?

She thought Junya Kenzaki was telling her, “It’s all right. Of course you’re all right. Shall I sing your favorite song, ‘Galaxy Magnum’?” Kaori’s breathing calmed down a bit. Then she asked the photo:

“Say, Junya. Should I have joined Yukie? I wonder if that would have saved me? No, that can’t be.”

A tear came rolling down Kaori’s cheeks.

How could this be happening? She wanted to see her mom. She wanted to see her dad. She wanted to see her sister and her kind grandma and grandpa. She wanted to take a bath, rub cream on her pimples, sit on the comfortable couch in the living room, and sip on a cup of cocoa while she watched a video of Flip Side’s TV show. (Although she’d seen this episode many, many times already.)

“Junya, help me. Please… I feel like I’m going crazy.”

The moment she actually heard her voice say this out loud, Kaori felt as if she were really going insane. It freaked her out. Nausea welled up to her chest. She was crying frantically now.

She suddenly heard a rustling sound behind her, and her body flinched. It was much louder than the previous sound.

Her eyes bleary with tears, she turned around.

A boy was looking at her through the shrubs. It was Hiroki Sugimura (Male Student No. 11). He’d snuck up behind her!

Kaori was completely terrified and too numb to think as she lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. Her wrists jerked back with the popping sound. A gold shell flew out, and the sun’s rays reflected off it as it shone through the branches. Hiroki had already disappeared deep inside the thicket. The rustling continued and also disappeared.

Kaori was trembling. She was still holding the gun. Then she snatched her belongings and ran in the opposite direction. As she ran, her agitated mind raced with thoughts. She was sure Hiroki Sugimura was trying to kill her. Why else would he have snuck up behind her without saying anything? Hiroki Sugimura probably didn’t have a gun. He saw that I did and ran away in a panic. If I hadn’t noticed him—and shot at him—then Hiroki Sugimura would probably have stabbed my chest with a knife or something. A knife! I have to be careful. I have to shoot anyone I come across. No mercy. Otherwise, I’ll end up getting killed… killed!

Oh no… I can’t stand this anymore. I want to go home. Take a bath. Pimple cream. Cocoa! Video. Flip Side. Junya. No mercy. Shoot. Shoot! Cocoa. Junya. Cream! For my pimples! No mercy, Junya.

Tears came streaming down Kaori’s cheeks. The lid on the locket on her chest remained open and Junya Kenzaki’s cheerful face swung violently left and right, up and down.

No mercy. Junya. I’m going to be killed! Shoot. Mom. Sister! Dad. Shoot! Shoot! The new record release!

Kaori was losing her mind.

36

“All right then, here’s the body count.”

Sakamochi’s voice continued. It was the noon announcement.

New members on the waiting list for funerals were Tatsumichi Oki, Kyoichi Motobuchi, and of course Yukiko Kitano and Yumiko Kusaka. The other ones were Yoji Kuramoto and Yoshimi Yahagi.

“I will announce the forbidden zones for this afternoon. Now, I want you to take notes. Get your notebooks out.”

Once again, Shuya pulled out his map and pen from his pocket. Shogo also had his map out.

“At 1 p.m., J-5. At 3 p.m., H-3. At 5 p.m., D-8. Got that?”

J-5 was the southeast shore of the island. H-3 was near the top of the southern mountain. D-8 was the hilly area on the southeast side of the northern mountain peak. Their zone, C-3, wasn’t announced. That meant they wouldn’t have to move.

“It may be rough losing your friends, but cheer up. You’re all so young, you’ve got so much ahead of you! Over and out.”

With this series of happy-go-lucky platitudes, Sakamochi’s announcement came to an end.

Shuya sighed. He put away the map and examined the student list, which was now ridden with check marks. “We’re down to twenty-five students. Damn.”

Shogo cupped his hand as he lit another cigarette. Then he said, “It’s like I said. The numbers are steadily dwindling.”

Shuya looked up at Shogo. He got Shogo’s point. The more classmates that died the closer they were to escaping. But… “That was uncalled for.”

Shogo only shrugged. He shifted his eyes and then said, “Hey, I’m sorry.”

Shuya wanted to say more, but he tore his eyes away from Shogo’s face. He pulled in his knees and stared down between them. There were several tiny yellow flowers poking out from the grass, and an ant was crawling up one of the stems.

This was the issue. Shuya had felt like they’d become buddies when they talked about rock, but in the end there was still something about Shogo that bothered him. Was it simply that there was a cold side to Shogo?

He took in a small breath and then thought of something else. Of the six deaths Sakamochi had announced, Yoji Kuramoto and Yoshimi Yahagi were the only ones Shuya didn’t witness. He was pretty sure they were going out. Did that mean they were together? And the two gunshots they heard after 10 p.m… was that them? If so, who could have… He remembered the sound of the machine gun slaughtering Yukiko Kitano and Yumiko Kusaka. Did the same person kill them too? Or…

“Shuya,” Shogo said. He looked up. “You haven’t had breakfast, right? This government-supplied bread sucks, but I found some coffee and strawberry jam at the supply store. Let’s eat.”

Shogo took out a jar and a slim can (200g) of canned coffee. The jar’s label was illustrated with strawberries, and he could see the shiny, thick, red contents inside the glass. Shuya assumed Shogo was going to toss the coffee into a pot of boiling water on the fire. Shogo also pulled out a bag of plastic cups.

“You loaded up.”

“Yep,” Shogo nodded. Then he proceeded to pull out a long, thin box. “Look at this. An entire carton of Wild Sevens.”

Shuya decided to cheer up. He smiled, nodding. He took out the bread in his day pack and offered one to Noriko.

“Noriko, we should eat.”

Noriko looked up, still hugging her knees. “I’m… all right. I’m not hungry.”

“What’s wrong? Is your appetite…”

Shuya realized as she looked down again how pale her face had become. He’d suddenly realized how quiet she’d been.

“Noriko?”

Shuya approached her. Shogo observed them as he opened the lid of the coffee can.

“Noriko!”

Shuya touched her on the shoulder. Noriko clenched her hands together. Her lips were tightly shut, forming a straight line across her pale face. Only now did Shuya finally realize that air was painfully hissing through her lips. She was having difficulty breathing. She closed her eyes, released her hands, put them on his arm, and leaned against him.

Her body temperature, which he sensed from her hands and through the shoulder area of the sailor suit, felt abnormally high, as if she were nursing a chick underneath her clothes. Shuya brushed off the hair on her forehead and felt her forehead.

It was incredibly hot. The cold sweat on her forehead drenched the palm of his hand.

Panicking, he turned to Shogo. “She’s got a fever! Shogo!”

“I’m… fine,” Noriko said weakly.

Shogo put down the can of coffee and got up. He exchanged positions with Shuya and touched her forehead. He rubbed his chin and then held her wrist. He seemed to be taking her pulse as he checked his wristwatch.

“I’m sorry about this,” he said as he put the fingers of his right hand to her lips and had her open her mouth. Then he pressed the skin under her eyes downward and looked under her lower eyelids.

“You must feel cold.”

Narrowing her eyes, Noriko nodded, “Yeah… a little…”

“How is she?” Shuya asked nervously. He’d been holding his breath.

“Just give me your coat,” Shogo said as he removed his own school coat. Shuya quickly removed his too and gave it to Shogo. Shogo carefully wrapped the two coats around Noriko’s body.

“Bread. I need the jam and water too,” Shogo instructed, and Shuya swiftly snatched the bread and water he’d offered to Noriko as well as the jam left on top of Shogo’s day pack. Shogo hastily dipped the bread into the jar, covering it with red jam. He offered it to Noriko.

“You have to eat this, Noriko.”

“I know… but…”

“Just eat it. Even a little will help,” Shogo’s insisted. Noriko hesitantly took the bread and nibbled on the bread a couple times. She made an effort to swallow it. Then she returned the rest of the bread to Shogo.

“No more, huh?”

Noriko barely shook her head. Even shaking her head seemed to exhaust her.

Shogo wanted her to eat more, but then he set the bread aside and once again pulled out the small pouch of medicine from his pocket.

“It’s cold medicine,” he said and gave her a capsule that was different from the pain reliever he’d given her before. Noriko nodded. With Shogo’s help she managed to swallow it down with water from the bottle. Water came streaming from her mouth, but Shogo gently wiped it away.

“Okay, now lie down.”

Noriko nodded obediently and lay down on the grass, still wrapped up in the two coats.

“What’s going on, Shogo? Is she gonna be right?” Shuya asked.

Shogo shook his head. “I don’t know for sure yet. It may just be a fever. But she might be infected from the wound.”

“What…”

With Noriko lying down, Shuya looked down at the bandanna bandage wrapped around her right calf.

“But… I thought we cleaned out her wound.”

Shogo shook his head again. “She moved around the woods a lot after she was shot, right? She might have been infected before we treated her.”

Shuya stared at Shogo for a while and then knelt down beside Noriko. He reached his hand out to Noriko’s forehead.

“Noriko.”

Noriko opened her eyes. She smiled feebly.

“I’m all right… I’m just a little tired. Don’t worry.”

But her breathing hardly indicated she was all right.

Shuya looked over at Shogo again. He restrained himself from sounding overly agitated and said, “Shogo. We can’t stay here. We have to move. We should at least find a house where she can get warm—”

Shogo cut him off, “Just hold on. Let’s just wait and see for now.” He tightly wrapped the makeshift blanket-coats around Noriko’s body.

“But—”

“It’s too dangerous for us to move. I told you.”

Noriko faintly opened her eyes. She looked over at Shuya and said, “I’m so sorry… Shuya…” Then she said to Shogo, “I’m sorry,” and closed her eyes.

Shuya’s lips tightened as he looked down at Noriko’s pale face.

37

Takako Chigusa (Female Student No. 13) stuck her head out from under the shadow of a tree trunk. She was halfway up the eastern side of the island’s southern mountain. According to the map she was somewhere near the border between H-4 and H-5. There was a grove full of trees that grew shorter as she headed up the mountain.

Takako gripped her weapon, an ice pick, and looked back.

The house she’d been hiding inside was obscured by trees and no longer visible. It was decrepit and overrun by tall grass and seemed like it’d been abandoned even before the island had been evacuated. She remembered something like a chicken shack was connected to the main building. Now she couldn’t even see the rusty tin roof. How far had she come? Two hundred meters? One hundred meters? Takako was the girls’ track team’s best short-distance sprinter (she held the prefect’s all-time second-place junior-high record for the 200-meter), so she had a good sense of running distances, but she wasn’t sure now, mainly because of the hills and bushes, not to mention the tension she was feeling.

After eating awful bread and water for breakfast, Takako decided to wait until 1 p.m. to leave the house. She’d been hearing what sounded like gunshots ever since the game started and hid in a corner of the abandoned house, but now she thought staying cooped up like that wouldn’t do any good. She had to join up with someone—at least a friend she could trust—and proceed.

Of course it was possible friends she trusted wouldn’t trust her. But…

Takako was a beautiful girl. Her upward-curving eyes were a little fierce-looking, but they matched with her sharp chin, well formed mouth, and nicely defined nose, all of which gave her an “aristocratic” look. Her long hair was dyed with orange streaks, which might look odd at first, but with her jewelry—which included earrings, two in her left ear, one in her right, designer rings on the middle and ring fingers of her left hand, a total of five bracelets on her wrists, and a pendant made from a foreign coin—she managed to assert her own look that made her all the more attractive. Her teachers didn’t really approve of her hair and gaudy jewelry, but she got good grades and because she was the track team’s star sprinter, she never got directly criticized. Basically Takako was very proud. She wasn’t going to be bound by the silly school rules that the other girls followed.

Whether it was—unfortunately enough—because of her beauty, or her pride, or whether it was because she was simply shy, Takako didn’t have many close friends in her class. Her best friend was Kahoru Kitazawa, whom she’d known ever since elementary school, but she was in another class. But there was someone in her class whom Takako could trust. The student wasn’t a girl, though. She’d known him since they were kids.

And with him in mind, she couldn’t help being preoccupied by something.

When she left the school building Takako thought someone who’d left before her might come back. In that case, she’d have to leave with extreme caution. And it was best to leave the school by foiling the assailant’s expectations.

When she came into the hall, she peeked outside through the exit door. There were woods in front of her, and a hill on the left. The area to her right was relatively open. The assailant, if there was one, would have to be hiding in the woods or in the hill.

Takako stayed down as she left the building and dashed to her right, staying close to the school building wall. The track star let her mighty legs cut loose. She didn’t even have to think about it. She ran down the street through a cluster of houses and into a narrow alley. Then she ran toward the base of the southern mountain. All her energy was focused on getting away from the school and finding somewhere to hide.

But…

What if there had been someone in the woods or in the hill in front of the school who had no intention of attacking her? In other words what if he who’d left before her, had hid in the woods or the mountain, had been waiting for her? Maybe she’d lost her chance by running out of there at full speed?

No.

She didn’t think so. What else could she have done? Anyone hanging around the school was jeopardizing his or her life. They had known each other since they were kids— it was nothing more than that. They had remained decent friends through all these years. She thought it was presumptuous of her to think that he—Hiroki Sugimura (Male Student No. 11)—would risk his life waiting for her.

The important thing was finding someone now. Finding Hiroki Sugimura would be ideal, but she knew that was too optimistic. She’d settle for the school representative Yukie Utsumi or some average girl. As long as she was careful not to get shot, she could calm them down. If they were calm already, that would be even better (although the thought of someone calm under these circumstances was a bit scary too). To find that someone, that was all she could do for now.

The one thing she knew not to do was to raise her voice. She had proof of that, now. From the abandoned house Takako had also seen Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano die on top of the northern mountain.

So Takako decided to leave the abandoned shack where she was hiding and climb up to the peak of the southern mountain. Once she was there, she’d descend the slope by circling the mountain, checking for anyone hiding in the bushes. She could throw pebbles at the bushes just as she’d been doing ever since she left the shack. Once she figured out who it was she could decide whether or not to approach that person. At noon Sakamochi had announced that the area around the peak of the southern mountain would become a forbidden zone at 3 p.m., but as long as she didn’t run into any problems she’d be able to completely survey the area before then. Also, if there was anyone in the area then he or she would have to be out of there by 3 p.m. She’d have a better chance locating someone on the move.

Takako checked her supplied wristwatch. It was 1:20 p.m. She usually wore bracelets so she never wore a watch, but she couldn’t afford that luxury now. Then she touched her collar.

If you try to pry it loose it will explode.

It was suffocating—not only the way it dug into her neck, but its mere presence. The chain of her pendant lightly tapped against the band.

Takako decided to ignore it and gripped her ice pick (what good was this weapon though?) with her left hand. With her right she grabbed some pebbles and tossed them out in front of her to her left and right. They made a rustling sound in the grove.

She waited for a while. No response. She moved forward. She took a deep breath, ready to run up the open ground between the bushes.

Suddenly she heard a rustling sound. Someone’s head popped out of the bushes, approximately ten meters to her left. She could see the back of his coat and the back of his head. Its hair was slightly disheveled but still smooth. His head turned left and right checking the area.

Takako froze. She was in trouble. It was a guy. Guys were trouble. She had no particular reason to think so, but she had a hunch anyone besides Hiroki Sugimura was trouble. And she could immediately tell this guy was not him.

Takako held her breath and slowly stepped back into the thicket behind her. She knew this would happen, but that didn’t stop her from trembling.

Suddenly the boy turned around. Their eyes met. The face, which had an expression of utter astonishment, belonged to Kazushi Niida (Male Student No. 16).

Oh man, why did I have to bump into this jerk? What mattered now was that she was totally exposed and how dangerous that was. She turned around and started running back the way she came.

“Wait!”

She heard Kazushi’s voice. The sound of him waded through the thicket, coming after her.

“Wait!” Now he was shouting. “Wait!”

Ugh! What an idiot—

Takako hesitated for a few moments and then stopped. She looked back. If Kazushi had a gun and wanted to shoot her he’d have done that by now. More troubling was his shouting. It endangered not only his life but hers. Just as it was moments ago there didn’t seem to be anyone in the area.

Slowing down, Kazushi descended the slope.

Takako realized Kazushi held a rifle loaded with an arrow in his right hand. It wasn’t pointed at Takako right now—but if it was, could she dodge it and run away? Should she have stopped?

No. Takako reassured herself, she’d done the right thing. Kazushi Niida was a forward on the soccer team. Top athletes like him were as fast if not faster than track runners. Even though Takako was a star track runner, he’d have eventually caught up with her.

Either way it was too late.

Kazushi stopped several meters away from her. He had wide shoulders and was relatively tall and well built. His smooth hair was long, which was the current fashion with soccer players, but now it was disheveled, as if he’d been playing in a close match that had gone into overtime. A smile emerged on his face, which was pretty good looking except for his bad teeth.

What does he want? Takako thought as he observed his face. He might not have any harmful intentions. He might actually be thinking he finally found someone he could trust.

But Takako didn’t have a very good impression of Kazushi Niida. To put it bluntly, she couldn’t stand his kind of chumminess. She also couldn’t stand his arrogance. They’d been classmates ever since their first year in junior high. (Hiroki became her classmate in second-year.) Without putting much effort into them, Kazushi was above average in grades and sports, but in spite of that—or maybe it had nothing to do with that—his immaturity really stuck out. He tried to impress others, and when he’d screw up he’d come up with some lame-ass excuse. Furthermore, and this was really stupid, but when they were first-year students, there were rumors that she and Kazushi were going out. (Junior high kids don’t have anything better to do. Well, let them say what they want.) Every time the rumors got going again he’d go to her desk and touch her on the shoulder (how dare he) and tell her, “There’s a rumor floating around about us.” Takako would turn away and brush his hand off with the reply, “Oh, I’m so honored.” She let it slide, scoffing at him on the inside (“Go away you little brat. You’ve got some nerve”), but now she wasn’t in the position to do the same thing.

Takako spoke cautiously. She had to get away from him as quickly as possible. That’s what it came down to.

“Don’t shout, you idiot!”

“I’m sorry,” Kazushi answered. “But you were the one who took off.”

Takako didn’t mess around with her response. Get to the point, cut to the chase. Her best features. “The fact is, I don’t want to be with you.” She looked at Kazushi and managed to shrug her tense shoulders.

Kazushi’s grimaced. “Why?”

Because you act like you’re such a goody-goody, she thought.

“Look, we both know why. Okay, later,” Takako said as she got ready to run. Still, she felt herself hesitating as her feet trembled.

She stopped.

Because out of the corner of her eye she saw the weapon in Kazushi’s right hand pointed at her.

Takako slowly turned around, keeping a close eye on his fingers on the trigger of his bow gun.

“What’s this?” she asked.

She casually slid the day pack off her left shoulder and caught its strap. Would it be able to shield her from the force of the bow gun?

“I don’t want to resort to this,” Kazushi said. This was exactly what she couldn’t stand about him. He was making excuses, but in fact he was trying to gain the upper hand. “So you better stay with me.”

That pissed her off. But that was also when she noticed something. When she was hiding in the shack her uniform skirt got caught on a broken door. The tear resembled the slit up a Chinese dress, and now Kazushi was looking down at it. His eyes were strangely glazed over. It gave her the creeps.

Takako quickly moved her legs to cover them as much as possible. Then she said, “Give me a break. You expect me to join you with that stuck in my face?”

“So you promise not to run away?” Kazushi spoke in his usual arrogant voice. He didn’t lower the bow gun.

Takako had to put up with him. “Just put that down.”

“So you won’t run?”

“Are you deaf?” Takako said sharply, and Kazushi reluctantly lowered his weapon.

Then he assumed a smug tone as he said, “I’ve always thought you were fine.”

Takako raised her well defined, elegantly arched eyebrows. After threatening her life like this, he has the nerve to say I’m fine!

Kazushi’s eyes fell on her legs again. He made no effort to be subtle, and his eyes were locked onto them now.

Takako lifted her chin slightly. “So?”

“So I won’t kill you. Just stay with me.”

Takako shrugged again. Any hesitation she might have had was now wiped out by anger. “I told you I don’t want to,” she spat out. “Later.”

Takako turned to… no, this time she began moving backwards and staring back at Kazushi. Kazushi lifted his bow gun again. His face had the expression of a kid begging for a toy at a department store. Mom, I want it, I want it!

Takako quietly said, “Stop this.”

“Then… stay with me,” Kazushi repeated. The way he tilted his head revealed how frantic he was trying to calm his nerves.

Takako repeated, “I told you, no.”

Kazushi didn’t lower the gun. They glared at each other.

Takako couldn’t bear it anymore. “You know… what do you want? Say it. You’re not killing me off. I tell you, I don’t want to be with you, but you insist. I don’t get it.”

“I…” Kazushi stared at Takako with that leer in his eyes and said, “I’m saying I’ll protect you. So just stay with me. We’re safer together, right?”

“You’ve gotta be joking. You have the nerve to threaten me like that and say you’ll protect me? I can’t trust you. Get it? Can I go now? I’m going.”

Kazushi replied, “If you move I’ll shoot you.” He aimed the bow gun directly at her chest.

By openly threatening her like this Kazushi lost any chance he had of keeping to a civilized code of conduct (not that he had much of sense of that to begin with). He stood still and said, “You better obey me, girl. A woman obeys his man.”

Takako was furious. Then he had the nerve to say, “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” in a casual tone, as if he were only confirming her blood type (B).

Takako was at a loss for words.

What did this asshole say?

“Am I wrong? Hiroki wouldn’t have the guts to sleep with a girl.”

Kazushi said this because probably he, along with many of her other classmates, had the mistaken assumption that she was going out with Hiroki Sugimura. She had two reasons to be especially annoyed, though. First of all, her relationship with Hiroki was none of their business. Second, Kazushi’s making fun of Hiroki pissed her off. Takako broke into a grin. She’d realized a long time ago how she could always grin when she was absolutely furious.

So she grinned like this at Kazushi and said, “What’s it got to do with you?” Kazushi might have misinterpreted Takako’s grin. Kazushi grinned back. “So I’m right.”

Still smiling, Takako glared back at him. Yes, in fact you are right. I might look a little flashy, but just as you said, I’m a virgin. An innocent 15-year-old girl. However…

It’s none of your business, asshole!

Kazushi continued, “We’re gonna die anyway. Don’t you want to try it once before you die? I’d be a good partner.”

Although Takako had never felt so angry in her life, she couldn’t help but gawk back at him in amazement. Her mouth might have even hung open. His exasperating, outrageous behavior was bad enough, but now it was so out of control it was like he was from another world. Captain Columbus, that is San Salvador Island. Okay, they’re barbarians. Beware of the barbarians. Takako looked down—and burst out in laughter. It was incredibly funny. This sitcom would have been a hit.

She lifted her face. She must have been glaring at Kazushi, but she’d still give him one last chance.

“This is my last offer. I don’t want to be with you. Just put that down and leave me alone. Otherwise, I’ll take it that you’re going to kill me. All right?”

Kazushi didn’t move his bow gun. Instead he raised it up to his shoulders and threatened her, “This is my last warning. You better obey me, Takako.”

The fact that Takako felt a thrill at this exchange, which was in some ways the turning point of their encounter, may have been indicative of her personality. And from here on… she couldn’t be held responsible for what would happen.

Takako took a step forward to put an end to this conversation with this asshole.

“I see. So you just want to rape me. Right? You think dying gives you the right to do anything?”

Kazushi glared back at her. “That’s not what I said…”

What’s the difference? She laughed at him inside. Let me guess what you’ll say next. I don’t want to rape you, but you better take off your clothes?

Takako continued grinning as she calmly tilted her head. She said, “Right now, you might want to worry more about your life than about your lame-ass dick.”

Kazushi’s face suddenly flushed. His mouth twisted as he spouted off, “Shut up! You really want to get raped?”

Takako grinned and answered, “So the truth comes out.”

“I told you to shut up!” Kazushi repeated. “I can kill you if I want, you know!”

He made her sick. She remembered how he tried to coax her into it just moments ago, saying, “I won’t kill you.”

Kazushi paused and then boasted, “I already killed Yoshio.”

Takako was a little shocked, but she merely lifted her brow and remarked, “Huh.” Even if it were true… given how he’d been hiding, he’d probably been terrified, then somehow bumped into Yoshio Akamatsu and ended up killing him by accident. After that, too scared of anyone stronger than him, he probably spent this whole time hiding. But knowing him, she knew that if he ended up surviving by hiding until he had one weaker final opponent, he’d say something like, “I have no choice” and kill him or her without hesitation.

“I was thinking,” Kazushi continued, confirming Takako’s suspicion. “I decided this is a game. So I’m not going to pull any punches.”

Takako continued staring at Kazushi, still wearing that grin.

Ah ha. I understand now. So whether it was by consent or by raping me you were going to fuck me and then kill me. As long as you could survive by having everyone else including myself die? I see. Did you calculate how many times you could fuck me too?

Her spine tingled with disgust and fury.

“A game?” she repeated after him and then gave a big smile. “But aren’t you ashamed doing this to a girl?”

Kazushi looked shocked, but then his face became sulky again. His cold eyes shone. “You want to die?”

“Go ahead, shoot me.”

Kazushi hesitated. It was her chance. Takako threw the pebbles she’d cautiously taken out of her pocket at his face. As Kazushi covered his face to shield himself, she quickly turned around, dropped the day pack, and dashed back the way she came, all the while holding onto the ice pick.

She thought she could hear him curse behind her. With a good runner’s sprint she’d coveted fifteen meters when suddenly she felt a blow against her right leg and fell face forward. Her cheek got cut as it scraped against a tree root poking out of the ground. She was more upset over this wound on her face than she was over the sharp pain in her leg. That asshole cut my face!

Takako twisted her body around. A silver arrow pierced her skirt and was planted in the back of her right thigh. Blood dripped down her well toned leg muscles.

Kazushi caught up with her. Seeing her sitting there, he tossed aside the bow gun and took out a pair of short sticks chained together—nunchaku—from under his belt and held them in his right hand. The chain rattled (this weapon, by the way, had been in Mayumi Tendo’s day pack, which Kazushi then took after killing Yoshio Akamatsu). (His own weapon for some bizarre reason was a plain shamisen banjo that was completely useless. Of course, this had nothing to do with Takako.)

Takako glanced at the bow gun on the ground and thought, you’ll regret you put that down.

“It’s your fault,” Kazushi said, panting. “You provoked me.”

Still seated, Takako glared up at Kazushi. The bastard was still making excuses. She couldn’t believe she’d actually been classmates with this idiot for over two years.

“Wait,” Takako said. As Kazushi knit his brows she got on her knees and twisted her right shoulder around, pulling out the arrow in one swift motion as she clenched her teeth. She could feel the flesh tear, followed by a gush of blood. Her skirt was torn again. So now her skirt had two slits.

She tossed the arrow aside and stood up, glaring at Kazushi. She was all right. The pain was incredible but she could take it. She shifted the ice pick over to her right hand.

“Don’t do it,” Kazushi said. “It’s no use.”

She tilted the ice pick sideways, pointing it at his chest.

“You said this was a game, right? Fine. I’ll be your opponent. I won’t lose against an asshole like you. I’ll give everything I have to erase your existence. Got it? Do you understand? Or are you too stupid?”

But Kazushi still seemed at ease. He was probably thinking how she was a girl, and what’s more, injured, so he couldn’t lose against her.

“I’ll say it again,” she continued, “Don’t even think of raping me after beating me to a pulp. Look, little kid, you should worry more about your life than your dick.”

Kazushi’s face contorted, and he raised the nunchucks up to his face.

Takako gripped her ice pick. The tension between them mounted.

He was probably fifteen centimeters taller, twenty kilograms heavier. Takako was probably the number one female athlete in her class but she had little chance of winning. On top of this, her right leg was pretty badly injured. But she couldn’t lose, no matter what.

Suddenly, Kazushi made a move. He came forward, swinging the nunchucks down!

Takako blocked them with her right arm. One of her two bracelets flew into the air (it was made by South American Indians, it was a favorite, damn). She felt a sting run up her arm up to the center of her skull. Despite the sting though, she thrust the ice pick upward. Kazushi grimaced as he stepped back, dodging it. Once again they were two meters apart.

Takako’s left arm was stinging now. But she was all right, nothing was broken.

He resumed his attack. This time he swung the nunchucks with the motion of a backhand tennis swing.

Takako dodged them by crouching down. The nunchucks skimmed her long, streaked hair—several strands flew into the air. Takako quickly swung her ice pick at his right wrist. She felt it wound him slightly as Kazushi groaned a little and stepped back.

They were apart again. Kazushi’s wrist, the hand holding the nunchucks, was red. But the cut didn’t seem severe.

The wound on her right leg was throbbing. She could tell the entire leg below her thigh was covered with blood. She wouldn’t last much longer like this. She also noticed a panting sound. It came from her lips.

Kazushi once again swung his nunchucks. She could see he was aiming at the left side of her head and her shoulder.

Takako stepped forward. She suddenly recalled something Hiroki, who was a martial arts expert, had taught her, “You can defeat your opponent by throwing his timing off. Sometimes, taking a bold step forward can be crucial.”

The nunchucks hit her shoulder, but just as Hiroki had said, it was only the chain, which hardly hurt her. Takako leaped into his chest. Kazushi’s face, his eyes wide open in dismay, was right in front of hers. She thrust the ice pick upward.

Kazushi shoved Takako away with his empty left hand. Takako lost her balance from her wounded right leg and fell forward.

Barely escaping her stab, Kazushi rubbed his unharmed chest with his left hand. “You’re really something,” he said.

Kazushi quickly swung his nunchucks down at Takako, who was slow getting up. This time he was aiming at her face!

Takako blocked the blow with her ice pick. Along with the metallic clang, the ice pick flew into the air and landed in the dirt. The only thing left in her hand now was intense pain.

Takako bit her lip. She glared at him as she stepped back.

Kazushi grinned and slowly came forward. Undoubtedly this guy was mentally disturbed. He had no qualms about beating a girl to death. In fact, he was enjoying it!

Kazushi swung his nunchucks again. She dodged them by bending back—but the nunchucks followed her instead. Perhaps he’d gotten used to them. This time Kazushi managed to extend his reach.

She felt a sharp thud against the left side of her head. She began to sway. A warm liquid came flowing out her left nostril.

She was on the verge of falling. Kazushi must have looked like he was sure he’d won.

Still swaying, Takako’s pretty, sharply curved eyes squinted.

As she fell, she stretched out her long legs and with all her might kicked Kazushi’s left knee from the right side. Kazushi let out a painful moan and fell on his left knee. His body floundered and rotated halfway on his knee. Now she saw his back.

Had she tried to take the ice pick, Takako might have lost. But that wasn’t what she did.

She leaped onto Kazushi’s back.

She clutched onto his head as if riding on his shoulders. Her weight forced him to fall forward.

If a thought occurred to her it was in choosing which fingers she should use. Her index and middle. No! The strongest combination would be her middle finger and thumb. And Takako had always taken good care of her nails. No matter how many times her team coach Mr. Tada scolded her about them she refused to shorten her nails.

Hanging onto Kazushi, Takako grabbed hold of his hair and yanked his head back. She could tell where they were.

Kazushi must have suddenly realized her intentions. She saw him shut his eyes.

It was useless though. Takako’s right middle finger and thumb tore through his eyelids and dug into his eye sockets.

“AIEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Kazushi screamed. He fell on his arms, got up on his knees, dropped his nunchucks, and tried to brush off her hands. His body moved frantically as he tried to get rid of her.

Takako held tightly onto Kazushi and refused to let go. She pushed her fingers in further. Her thumb and middle finger dug in up to their second joints. As she dug in, she felt something pop and realized it was his eyeballs. She didn’t expect eye sockets to be this small. Takako didn’t hesitate to bend her sharp fingers inward. Blood and a semi-transparent slimy liquid came oozing down his cheeks like weird tears.

“ARRRRGH,” Kazushi cried as he got up and swung his arms around frantically. He tried to pry her right hand loose from his head with both of his hands and pulled at Takako’s hair.

Takako leaped off Kazushi, who ended up with what felt like several strands or even a bundle of hair. Well, she couldn’t be worried about that now.

She looked for her ice pick and found it. She snatched it up.

Kazushi moaned and swung his arms at the (literally) unseen enemy. Then he fell back on his rear end. His eyes were open, but his eyes were completely immersed in a sea of red. He resembled an albino monkey now. Takako dragged her right leg and limped toward him. She lifted her wounded right leg and stomped down onto his unprotected crotch. The purple-striped white track sneaker was now red, soaked with Takako’s own blood. Underneath its sole she felt a squashing sensation as if she were crushing a rodent. “URGH,” Kazushi moaned. He held his crotch and turned on his side, balled up like a fetus. Now Takako began stepping on his throat with her left leg. She put her weight on it. Kazushi reached out, trying to move her foot, hitting it feebly, trying to free himself.

“Hel—” Kazushi uttered. It sounded like a tiny draft of air because his throat had been crushed.

“Help…”

Yeah right, Takako thought. She could tell her mouth was breaking into a grin. She realized she wasn’t angry anymore. She was actually enjoying this. She was sure about it. So what? She never claimed to be Pope John Paul II or the 14th Dalai Lama.

On her knees now, she thrust the ice pick into his mouth (she saw several cavity fillings). His arms which were struggling to pull at her leg suddenly froze. Takako pushed further. It sunk into his throat without much resistance. Kazushi’s entire body, from his chest down to his toes, then went into convulsions as if swimming the submariner. Then it stopped. The albino eyes still remained open, surrounded by a spider’s web pattern of gooey blood like running paint.

She felt a sudden surge of pain in her right leg and fell on her back by his head. She was panting now the way she did after doing the 200-meter dash twice for physical tests.

She’d won. But she also felt empty. The actual fight might have lasted less than thirty seconds. She wouldn’t have survived a longer fight. In any case… she won. That’s what mattered.

Takako held her blood-soaked right leg as she looked down at the corpse of Kazushi, who resembled a traveling magician attempting to spit out an ice pick from his throat. Now ladies and gentlemen, I shall spit out what I just swallowed—

“Takako.”

The voice came from behind her. Still seated, Takako turned around. She reached out and pulled out the ice pick from Kazushi’s mouth (which resulted in Kazushi’s head rising a little and then falling to the ground).

Mitsuko Souma (Female Student No. II) was looking down at Takako.

Takako quickly looked over at Mitsuko’s right hand. Her small hand was holding a large automatic pistol.

She had no idea what her intentions were. But, if like Kazushi Niida she intended to play the game (this after all was Mitsuko Souma), Takako had no chance of winning. Mitsuko had a gun.

She had to escape. She had to. Takako pulled at her right leg in pain and tried to get up.

“Are you all right?” Mitsuko asked. Her voice sounded terribly kind. She didn’t point the gun at her.

But Takako had to be cautious. She moved back and finally managed to get up by holding onto a tree nearby. Her right leg felt incredibly heavy.

She answered, “Well, I suppose.”

Mitsuko looked over Kazushi’s corpse. Then she looked at the ice pick in Takako’s hands.

“You killed him with that? I have to say I’m impressed. Speaking as one girl to another.”

She really sounded like she was impressed. It almost sounded cheerful. Her angelic face was beaming.

“I guess,” Takako responded. She felt as if her body were off balance. Perhaps it was from the heavy loss of blood from her right leg.

“Say,” Mitsuko said. “You never went out of your way to impress me.”

Still unable to tell what Mitsuko’s intentions were, Takako stared at her. (The two most beautiful girls in Shiroiwa Junior High were staring at each other. Nice jewelry and a boy’s corpse. Oh, you’re so pretty.)

Mitsuko was absolutely right. Takako couldn’t stand sucking up to anyone, so she was never intimidated like the other girls when Mitsuko talked to her. She was too proud and besides, she wasn’t scared of Mitsuko.

Then she remembered something an older student she had a crush on a while ago (actually, it ended only a couple months ago) used to say. Whereas her feelings for Hiroki Sugimura were vague, she definitely had a crush on this guy. After getting involved in one of his friend’s fights, he showed up all beat up at the team room before one of their meets and said in his unique voice, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Nothing to fear.”

Be strong and beautiful…. Takako had her eye on this guy ever since she entered junior high and it seemed he’d had a profound effect on her personality. But he also had a girlfriend. Someone very elegant, yes, someone like Sakura Ogawa, someone calm as a serene lake hidden deep inside a forest. Well, that was all in the past.

But, Takako thought, the fact that she suddenly recalled his words which hadn’t occurred to her even when she was fighting Kazushi Niida just moments ago… Did that mean that she was in fact afraid of Mitsuko?

“I was always a little envious,” Mitsuko continued. “You were so pretty, and you were a better girl than me.”

Takako listened quietly. She immediately realized there was something wrong. Why was Mitsuko referring to her in the past tense?

“But—” Mitsuko’s eyes twinkled playfully. Now she was back to the present tense. “I really like girls like you. Maybe I’m a bit of a dyke. So it’s…”

Takako’s eyes opened wide. She turned around and began running. Her right leg dragged a little, but it was still a respectable sprint for the track star.

“So it’s…”

Mitsuko lifted the .45. She pulled the trigger three times in a row. Takako had managed to run down the hill and through the woods, covering a quick twenty meters when three holes appeared in the back of her uniform. She fell forward as if diving in a head-first slide. Face down, she slid across the ground, and her legs contrasted against each other, the left one white and the right one red as they flew into the air, her skirt fluttering against them. She was lying on the ground.

Mitsuko put down the gun and said, “…too bad.”

38

Noriko’s breathing grew heavier. Shogo’s medicine didn’t seem to be having much effect. It was close to 2 p.m. All of a sudden Noriko’s cheeks appeared sunk in. Shuya used up a water bottle to moisten Noriko’s handkerchief, and wiped her sweaty face, and then placed it on her forehead. Noriko kept her eyes closed, but nodded as if to thank him.

Shuya looked back at Shogo. Shogo remained in the same position, leaning against a tree all this time, smoking with his legs crossed. His right hand gently touched the grip of the Remington shotgun resting in his lap.

“Shogo.”

“What?”

“Let’s go.”

Shogo raised his brows. “Where?”

Shuya’s lips tightened. “I can’t stand it anymore.” He pointed to Noriko. “She’s getting worse every second.”

Shogo glanced at Noriko, who was lying down with her eyes closed. “If it’s from septicemia, warming her up and letting her rest won’t cure her.”

Shuya did his best to restrain his impatience. “According to the map, there’s a medical clinic on the island. We might be able to find some better medicine for her there, right? It’s way north of the residential area, and it’s not in any of the forbidden zones.”

“Oh yeah.” Shogo exhaled smoke from the corner of his mouth. “That’s true.”

“Let’s go there.”

Shogo tilted his head. He took another drag and then rubbed out the cigarette. “That facility is at least one and a half kilometers away. It’s too dangerous to go there now. We have to wait until dark.”

Shuya clenched his teeth. “We can’t wait until dark. What if that area becomes a forbidden zone?”

Shogo didn’t reply.

“Hey,” Shuya said. He wasn’t sure whether it was from impatience or the mere thought of having to risk falling out with Shogo, but he was beginning to stutter a little. He had to say it though. “I-I won’t say you’re trying to get us killed. But why are you so afraid of taking any risks? Your life that precious?”

Shuya looked him in the eye. Shogo didn’t change his calm expression.

“Shuya…”

Shuya heard Noriko’s voice behind him and turned around. Noriko had her head turned toward him. The handkerchief on her forehead was lying on the ground.

“Stop it. We won’t make it without Shogo,” she managed to say in between heavy breaths.

“Noriko.” Shuya shook his head. “Don’t you see how weak you’re getting? You can’t die before we can make it out of here.” Shuya turned to Shogo again. “If you say you’re not coming, I’ll take Noriko with me on my own. You can forget about our deal. You’re on your own.” That was his parting remark as he got ready to get their bags.

“Hold on,” Shogo said. He slowly got up, approached Noriko, and checked the pulse of her right wrist. It was what he did every twenty minutes. He rubbed his increasingly stubbly chin again and looked at them. “You won’t know what medicine to use.” He tilted his head slightly, looked at Shuya, and said, “All right. I’m coming with you.”

39

Although over half an hour had passed since she’d been shot in the back three times and though she’d lost a large quantity of blood from the arrow wound in her leg, Takako Chigusa was still alive. Mitsuko Souma had disappeared, but Takako couldn’t care less about that.

She was half dozing, half dreaming. Her family—her father, mother, and younger sister were all waving at Takako from the front gate of their house.

She could tell her sister Ayako, who was two years younger, was crying. She was saying, “Goodbye, Takako, goodbye.” Her handsome father, (from whom Takako had inherited most of her features) and her mother (who shared her looks more with Ayako), were both silent, looking very sad. Their pet dog, Hanako, drooped her head and wagged her tail. Takako had taken care of Hanako, smart female dog, ever since she was a puppy.

Oh shit, Takako thought in her dream, how awful. I’ve only lived fifteen years. Hey Ayako, look after Mom and Dad, okay? You’re so spoiled, so learn from your older sister a little, huh?

Then she saw Kahoru Kitazawa. Her one really close friend, the petite girl she’d been buddies with for seven years now.

Time to say goodbye to you too, Kahoru. You were the one who said that nothing, not even hell, could scare you as long as you gave it your best shot. I’m not afraid. But, it’s still kinda hard, dying alone like this….

Then Kahoru seemed to be shouting. But she couldn’t hear her well. It sounded like, “What about him?”

Him?

Then the scene changed to her track team locker room. She knew it was the summer of her second year because this room had been torn down last fall, replaced by a new clubhouse.

Hey, this is no dream. This actually happened. This…

An older teammate. His buzz-cut hair stood up in front, and he wore a white T-shirt with the words “FUCK OFF!” on it and green track shorts with black lines. Playful but gentle-looking eyes. He was the guy she had a crush on. He was good at running hurdles. Now he was concentrating on taping up his knee which he’d injured a while ago. There was no one else besides them. Takako said, “You have a beautiful girlfriend. You two make a great couple.”

Ah well, when it comes to him, I turn into an average girl. How lame.

“Yeah?” he lifted his face and smiled. “You’re prettier than her.”

Takako smiled, but felt a little odd. She was happy to hear him praise her looks for the first time… but the fact he could tell another girl she was prettier also indicated how strong his relationship with his girlfriend was.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend, Takako?” he asked, smiling.

The scene changed again.

She was at the park, but everything appeared very low.

Oh, this must be from my childhood. I must have been in the second or third grade.

Hiroki Sugimura was crying in front of her. He wasn’t tall the way he was now. In fact back then Takako was taller. A bully had taken away his brand new comic book.

“Come on, boys don’t cry. Don’t be such a wuss. Be strong. Come on. Our dog just had puppies. You wanna see them?”

“Okay…” Hiroki wiped his tears and tagged along.

Come to think of it, Hiroki started martial arts school the year after that. He also went through a growth spurt around then and eventually ended up taller than her.

Up until the end of elementary school they often visited each other. Once, when she seemed preoccupied, Hiroki asked her, “What’s wrong, Takako? Something wrong?”

Takako thought about it and then said what was on her mind. “Hey, Hiroki, what would you do if someone said they liked you?”

“Hmm. I don’t know, since it’s never happened to me.”

“Don’t you have a crush on someone?”

“Hmm. Nope. Not at this moment.”

Takako then thought, so I’m not even in the running?

Whatever. She continued, “Oh, really. Well you should find someone you can confess to.”

“I’m too chicken. I don’t think so.”

The scene changed. Junior high school again. They became classmates in their second year. They were talking on the first day of class. At some point, Hiroki asked, “So I heard there’s this supposedly hot guy on the track team.” Although he didn’t directly say it, he was implying she had a crush on him.

“Who told you?”

“Just heard. So how’s it going?”

“No hope. He has a girlfriend. What about you? You still don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Leave me alone.”

We were always on the verge of being close. We both had a thing for each other but—or am I just imagining things? At least I liked you. I mean, it was different from how I felt about my track teammate. You know what I mean?

Hiroki’s face appeared. He was crying.

“Takako. Don’t die.”

Come on guy, be a man. Boys don’t cry. You might be bigger now, but you haven’t made much progress.

Was it by the grace of God? Takako came to her senses once more. She opened her eyes.

Hiroki Sugimura was looking down at her in the soft afternoon light. Beyond Hiroki she saw the treetops, and in between them fragments of the blue sky formed complex patterns like those in a Rorschach Test.

The first thing she realized was that Hiroki wasn’t crying.

Then she started wondering, “How did you—”

As she tried to form words with her mouth, she felt as if she were forcing open a rusty door. She realized she didn’t have too long to live.

“—get here?”

All Hiroki said was, “I managed.” He knelt down beside her and gently lifted up her head. She’d fallen face forward, but now for some reason she was facing up. The palm of her left hand (her left hand… no, the entire left side of her body was numb now, so she couldn’t feel anything; it might have been from Kazushi Niida’s blow to the side of her head) felt the sensation of weeds underneath—had he carried her here?

Hiroki then asked quietly, “Who got you?”

It was important information.

“Mitsuko,” Takako answered. She didn’t give a damn about Kazushi Niida anymore. “Be careful.”

Hiroki nodded. Then he said, “I’m sorry.”

Takako didn’t understand. She stared at Hiroki.

“I was hiding outside the school… waiting for you.” Hiroki said and then tightened his lips as if holding something back.

“But then Yoshio came back. I-I got distracted for a split second. Then, you know how you ran at full speed… I lost you. I ran in your direction, calling after you, but… you were too far off by then.”

Oh no, Takako thought. So it was true. After she ran away from the school into the woods she thought she’d heard a distant voice. But she was so frantic she thought it was just her imagination—and if it wasn’t, then it meant there was someone—so she continued running at full speed.

Oh—

Hiroki had waited for her. Just as she’d suspected, he’d been waiting for her, risking his life. And when he said, “I managed,” he probably meant that he’d been looking for her all this time.

The thought made her want to cry.

Instead she did her best to form a smile on her face.

“Really? Thanks.” Takako knew that she couldn’t talk much anymore. She tried to come up with the best thing to say, but then an odd question occurred to her and she blurted it out, “Do you have a crush on someone?”

Hiroki’s brows moved and then he gently said, “I do.”

“Don’t say it’s me.”

Still looking sad, Hiroki faintly smiled.

“No, its not.”

“Well then…”

Takako took a deep breath. She felt as if poison were spreading through her body which strangely felt both chilly and at the same time incredibly hot. “Could you just… hold me tight? It’ll be over soon.”

Hiroki tightened his lips and raised her up, hugging her tightly to his body with both his arms. Her head was on the verge of falling back but Hiroki held it up.

She felt like she could say one more thing.

“You have to survive, Hiroki.”

Dear God, can I have one more word?

Takako looked into Hiroki’s eyes and grinned.

“You’ve become quite a stud.”

Hiroki said, “And… you’re the most stylin’ girl in the world.”

Takako smiled faintly. She wanted to thank him, but she was out of breath. She just stared at Hiroki’s eyes. She was grateful. At least she wasn’t going to die alone. The last person to stay with her ended up being Hiroki. And she was grateful. She really was.

Kahoru… thanks, I heard you.

Takako Chigusa remained in this position as she died approximately two minutes later. Her eyes remained open. Hiroki Sugimura held her limp, lifeless body and wept.

40

“Get down,” Shogo said. He carefully surveyed the area while holding on to his shotgun. Carrying Noriko on his back, Shuya obeyed Shogo. The area was shaded by a large elm tree. They must have covered two-thirds the distance to the medical facility by now. They should be in the vicinity of sector F-6 or F-7. If they were headed in the right direction (Shogo was leading them, so they couldn’t be far off), the school building should soon appear below them to their right.

Moving along the shore, they first passed through C-4. Then they moved east along the foot of the northern mountain. Moving in broad daylight did turn out to be difficult. They would move a little, quiet down their breathing, and when they had to get through thick vegetation Shogo would throw several pebbles ahead to make sure no one was there. It’d already taken them half an hour just to get this far.

Noriko continued to breathe heavily.

Shuya tilted his head back the way mothers do with their infants and told her, “We’re almost there, Noriko.”

“Uh huh…” she answered.

“All right, let’s go,” Shogo said. “We’re going for that tree over there.”

“Got it.”

Shuya got up and proceeded through the soft, grassy soil that must have been a farm field. Shogo was right next to them, holding their belongings with his left hand and his shotgun in his right, indicating directions with the motion of his head. The muzzle of the shotgun would point in the same direction as his head.

They reached a thin tree and stopped. Shuya took a deep breath.

“Are you all right, Shuya?”

Shuya gave him a smile. “Noriko’s light.”

“We can take a break.”

“No,” Shuya shook his head. “I want to get there as soon as possible.”

“All right,” Shogo said, but Shuya felt uncertain. Maybe he was being an idiot. He was always jumping to wrong conclusions, failing to check the important details.

“Shogo.”

“What?”

“Does that mark on the map really indicate a clinic?”

Shogo snickered. “I believe you were the one who claimed it did.”

“No, that was—”

Shuya was embarrassed, but Shogo immediately said, “Don’t worry, it is. I checked it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I walked around the island last night until I met you guys. I should have had the foresight to take some more medicine. I didn’t think I’d need it.”

Shuya let out a sigh of relief. Then he reproached himself. He had to get his act together. Otherwise, he’d end up not only getting himself killed but Noriko as well.

Even as they talked, Shogo was searching for their next spot.

“All right—”

Then they heard the gunfire. Shogo froze. He nervously crouched down and surveyed the area. So had Shuya been too optimistic, hoping they could reach the medical facility without any obstacles?

But there was no one in sight.

Shuya looked over at Shogo, who stretched out his left arm as if to shield them and looked ahead toward their left, where they were headed. There was a gentle slope leading up to rows of tall pine trees approximately ten meters away, cutting off their view. Did he mean they were going through there?

Shuya finally let out the breath he’d been holding.

“It’s all right,” Shogo said in a hushed voice. “We’re not the targets.”

Shuya decided against pulling out his gun and, still carrying Noriko, said, “It’s close.”

Shogo nodded silently. Then the gunfire continued. Two, then three shots. The third one somehow seemed louder than the first two shots. Then another shot. It was a smaller sound.

“A gun fight,” Shogo mumbled. “They’re pretty pumped up.”

Now that he knew they were safe, Shuya felt relieved, but he kept on biting his lip.

Whoever they were, his classmates were trying to kill each other again. In fact, it was happening right near them. And he was just trying to stay quiet, waiting for it to end. That was just…

The image of the men in black crossed his mind. Now then, you’re next, and you. Fortunately, Mr. Nanahara, your time still hasn’t come.

His back facing him, Shogo said, as if he could read Shuya’s thoughts (didn’t he say something silly about reading his mind on a clear day?), “I hope you’re not thinking of stopping them, Shuya.”

Shuya held his breath and then mumbled, “No.” His priority was to take Noriko to the medical facility. If they got mixed up with someone else’s fight they’d end up risking their own lives.

Then Noriko suddenly said from behind, “Shuya.” Her fever was so high, he could even feel it through his back. She was practically whispering.

Shuya turned his head around. He saw Noriko’s eyes squinting right behind his shoulder.

“Let me stand…” she finally uttered and continued, “We have to see… make sure… whoever it is…”

Her words were cut off by her heavy breathing, but he knew what she was getting at. What if someone who didn’t want to participate, in other words, someone innocent, was about to get killed right now? In fact that could be the case with both parties exchanging bullets right now.

The area they were in was a direct southward descent from the northern peak where Yukiko Kitano and Yumiko Kusaka were killed. But they weren’t hearing a machine gun now. Therefore, neither of the fighting parties right now had killed Yukiko and Yumiko. But what if… Yukiko and Yumiko’s killer heard this gunfire? He could show up at any moment.

More gunfire was exchanged. And then silence again.

Shuya clenched his teeth. He quickly let Noriko down. He had her rest against the tree trunk where they were hiding.

Shogo turned around. “Hey, you’re not…”

Shuya ignored him and said to Noriko, “I’ll go check it out.” He pulled out his Smith & Wesson and said to Shogo, “Look after Noriko.”

“H-hey…”

He heard Shogo, but he was already on his way.

He climbed the slope carefully, keeping an eye on all sides, and made his way through the coniferous trees.

There was thick vegetation beyond the trees. Shuya made his way into it. He got down on the ground and proceeded to make his way through the long, sharp needles pricking at him from both sides.

More gunshots. Shuya finally reached the edge of the grove and slowly poked his head out.

There was a house. It was an old wooden, single-story building with a triangular roof. A typical farmhouse. On his left was an unpaved entrance road. The mountain escarpment surrounded the property further down. The area above was covered in deep forest. And even further up, you could see the viewing platform on the northern mountain where Yumiko and Yukiko had been killed.

The farmhouse was on his left side. Hirono Shimizu (Female Student No. 10) was crouched against the wall in front of the building. Hirono was looking beyond the yard at what appeared to be a shack for farm equipment right beside the entrance road. He could make out the figure of a girl beside the entrance. The girl looked up, and that was when he realized it was Kaori Minami (Female Student No. 20). And both of them were holding guns. They were less than fifteen meters apart from each other.

He had no idea how they ended up shooting at each other. It was possible one of them was out to get the other girl, but Shuya could tell this wasn’t the case. They probably stumbled into each other, and because neither of them could trust the other, they ended up shooting at each other….

This guess might have just been based on his own favorable opinion of girls, but in any case he couldn’t just sit back and let this happen. He had to stop them.

As Shuya tried to grasp the situation, Kaori stuck her head out from the shack’s entrance and fired at Hirono. She handled the gun like a kid playing with a water pistol, but unlike a water pistol the gun exploded, and a small brass shell flew into the air. Hirono fired two shots back. She actually handled the gun well, and her shells didn’t fly out. One of her bullets hit the post of the shack, which shattered into sawdust. Kaori quickly tucked her head in.

Hirono’s body was almost entirely visible from where Shuya was standing, and he saw her open the cylinder of her revolver to extract the shells. Her left hand was soaked crimson. Her arm might have been wounded by Kaori. But she managed to reload her gun quickly with that hand. She aimed her gun at Kaori again.

All of this happened in a matter of seconds, but right before he was about to act Shuya was once again overwhelmed by the sensation of being in a nightmare. Kaori Minami loved pop idols, so she’d often talk about her favorite stars with her friends, or share a photo taken in person that thrilled her to no end. Then there was Hirono Shimizu, who hung out with Mitsuko Souma, so there was something jaded about her. But they were both third-year students in junior high, they both had charming qualities. Now these two were shooting at each other. Seriously, with real bullets. Obviously.

I have to do something now.

Shuya stood up and fifed his Smith & Wesson into the air. Oh great, so now I’m playing the sheriff, he thought for a moment. But without hesitating, he shouted, “Stop it!”

Hirono and Kaori froze, and then together looked over at Shuya.

Shuya continued, “Stop it! I’m with Noriko Nakagawa!” He thought it was best not to mention Shogo’s name for now. “You can trust me!”

As he said this, he realized how lame his words sounded. But he had no other way to put it.

Hirono was the first to move her eyes away from Shuya to Kaori. And Kaori was gazing at Shuya.

Shuya realized at that moment how half of Kaori’s body was exposed beyond the entrance—she was in the open now.

What happened next reminded him of a traffic accident he once witnessed. It happened on an autumn evening before he turned eleven. Maybe the driver had fallen asleep or something. His truck lost control, rammed through the guardrail, rode up onto the sidewalk, and hit a young girl walking home from school, just like Shuya, who was behind her. It was unbelievable but her backpack came off her shoulders and flew into the air, tracing a different trajectory from the girl’s body. The girl landed on the sidewalk before the backpack did, falling on her shoulder. Obstructed by the wayside concrete wall she slid along the edge of the sidewalk and then stopped still. Blood came flowing out, leaving a trail on the bottom edge of the concrete wall over one meter long.

It all looked like—from the time the truck swung off the road and crashed into the girl—as if it was happening in slow motion. Anyone there could tell what was going to happen, but there was nothing anyone could do. That’s what it felt like.

Hirono aimed and fired at Kaori, who’d completely let her guard down. Two shots in a row. The first one hit Kaori in the shoulder, making her spin halfway to the right. The second shot hit her in the head. Shuya saw a part of her head—from the top down to her left temple—explode.

Kaori collapsed by the front door of the shack.

Hirono glanced over at Shuya.

Then she turned and ran to his left, westward, where Shuya’s group came from. She ran into the bushes and disappeared from sight.

“Damn!”

Shuya moaned. After some hesitation he ran to the shack where Kaori had collapsed.

Kaori was lying down, legs jutting out from inside the shack that only housed a decrepit tractor. Her body remained twisted as blood came flowing out the corner of her mouth, mixed with the blood from her head and shoulder wounds, turning into a puddle on the shack’s concrete floor. Tiny dust particles from the floor were floating on the surface of the puddle. Her eyes stared out at the sky. A thin gold chain hung down from her sailor suit onto the floor, and the golden locket attached to it looked like an island in a lake of blood. A famous male idol singer was smiling cheerfully from it.

Shuya was shaking as he knelt down beside her.

Oh, man… what the… so this girl… can’t gossip about pop idols anymore, she can’t go to their concerts anymore. If he had been more careful… maybe she wouldn’t have been killed?

He heard a sound and turned around. It was Shogo, holding Noriko with one of his arms as they looked out from the woods.

Shogo left Noriko there and trotted over to Shuya.

Shogo’s expression seemed to be saying, “See, what’d I tell you?” but he didn’t say a word. He just calmly picked up Kaori’s gun and day pack, and then as if it occurred to him as an afterthought, he crouched down and shut her eyes with his right thumb. Then he told Shuya, “We’re going. Hurry up.”

He knew it was dangerous. Anyone—especially the killer with the machine gun—could have heard the gunfire and might be showing up now.

Still, Shuya’s eyes were glued to Kaori’s corpse until Shogo tugged his arm back.

41

The medical clinic was an old, small, single-story building. The wood walls had turned black, and the black-tiled roof was so worn out with age that the corners had turned white. Like the shack where Kaori Minami had died, it was located in front of the northern mountain at the end of a narrow unpaved road. They’d made their way through the mountain, but they could tell the narrow entrance road led down to the paved road along the island’s eastern shore. There was a white minivan parked in front of the facility. Maybe the doctor had used it. Beyond the minivan they could see the ocean.

The afternoon sun was shining on the sea. The color of the ocean was completely different from the murky water that lapped against the concrete sea walls in Shiroiwa harbor. It was a wonderfully brilliant blue tinged with green. There were hardly any waves, and the sparkling dots of light on its surface became increasingly dense in the distance. Other islands floating in the Seto Inland Sea looked remarkably close, but this was probably due, as he was once told, to the optical illusion of reduced distance when objects were absent. So they must have been at least four or five kilometers away.

In any case they were here. It was a miracle they got here without getting hurt. They’d immediately left the area where Kaori died. No machine gun shots came after them. According to the map they’d traveled a distance of less than two kilometers, but Shuya, who’d been carrying Noriko, accompanied by the pressure of a possible attack, was incredibly tired. He wanted to check to make sure no one was in the area of the clinic as soon as possible, so that not only Noriko but he too could get some rest.

But something caught Shuya’s attention.

A ship was floating on the peaceful sea. It was probably the guard ship Sakamochi had mentioned. But… for some reason there were three ships in a row. Sakamochi said there would be one ship on all sides—north, south, east, and west—and on the west side they had only seen one. So what was this?

Still carrying Noriko, Shuya poked his face out from the leaves and asked Shogo, “There’re three ships.”

“Yeah,” Shogo replied. “The small one is a guard ship. The huge one is the ship that will transport the soldiers who were in the school building back to their base. The one in the middle is for the winner of the game. The winner rides that boat. It’s the same model as the one from last year.”

“So, the Program in Hyogo Prefecture was also held on an island like this one?”

“Yep,” Shogo nodded. “Hyogo Prefecture also shares the Seto Inland Sea. It seems like Programs held in prefectures along the Seto Inland Sea coast are always held on islands. I mean, there are at least a thousand islands in this small ocean.”

Shogo then told him to wait and descended the slope toward the clinic with his shotgun cocked. He crouched down and first examined the minivan. Then he snuck up to the building and circled it. When he returned he examined the sliding door entrance. It seemed to be locked, so Shogo flipped his shotgun and shattered the frosted glass window with the sawed off gun stock. Then he stuck his hand into the V-shaped opening, unlocked the door, and entered the building.

After watching him do this, Shuya tilted his head back to Noriko, whose head was resting against his back.

“Noriko, we’re here.” Shuya said, but Noriko could only moan, “Huh…” Her heavy breathing continued.

After five full minutes, Shogo poked his head out of the entrance and signaled Shuya to join him. Shuya cautiously descended the two meter drop so he wouldn’t lose his balance and approached the clinic.

A thick, grimy wooden sign with the traces of weatherworn letters that read, “Okishima Island Medical Clinic” hung right beside the entrance. Shuya slipped by Shogo, who kept watch, holding his shotgun. He entered, followed by Shogo, who shut the door tightly.

Right near the entrance, there was a small waiting room. On the left there was a long green couch with a white cover on the worn out cream-colored carpet. The wall clock made a ticking sound as it approached three o’clock. The right side appeared to be the examination room.

Shogo jammed the door shut with a broom and then signaled Shuya, “Over here.”

Although they were supposed to take their shoes off, Shuya stepped up with his sneakers on and entered the room on the right. There was a wooden desk in front of the window, and what appeared to be a doctor’s black leather chair. There was a green vinyl stool in front of it. Even though the clinic was small, it still had the sterile odor of disinfectant.

There were two beds beyond a thin green curtain hanging from metal pipes. Shuya carried Noriko to the bed in front and gently put her down there. He thought of having her take off his school coat, but then decided against it.

After Shogo quickly pulled the curtains shut, he said, “blankets,” and gave him two thin brown blankets folded in small squares. Shuya took them and after some thought spread one of them on the other bed. Then he moved Noriko there and spread the other blanket over her. He made sure the blanket went up to her shoulders. Shogo was rummaging through a gray office cabinet that was probably the medicine cabinet.

Shuya crouched down by Noriko’s head and combed the sweaty hair against her cheeks back to her ears. She seemed dazed. Her eyes were closed, and she continued to breathe heavily.

“Damn it,” Shuya muttered. “Noriko, are you all right?”

Noriko squinted, her eyes glazed at him as she said, “Uh huh…” She might be faint from the high fever, but her mind was clear enough to respond.

“How about some water?”

Noriko barely nodded. Shuya took out a new bottle of water from the day pack Shogo had tossed onto the floor and tore off the seal. He held her up and helped her drink it. Shuya wiped off the water spilling from the side of her mouth with the back of his hand.

“Is that enough?” Shuya asked and Noriko nodded. Then he lay her down and waved to Shogo. “Any medicine?”

“Hold on,” Shogo replied. He rummaged through another, lower cabinet and pulled out a cardboard box. He opened it and read the directions. It seemed to be what he was after. He extracted what looked like a small bottle and an ampoule. The bottle was filled with white powder.

“Do you swallow that?” Shuya asked.

Shogo answered, “No, it’s for injections.”

Shuya was a little shocked. “You know how to use that?”

Shogo turned on the faucet in the back of the room. No water came out, as expected, and Shogo clicked his tongue. He pulled out his water bottle from his day pack and washed his hands. Then he set a needle on a syringe and extracted the contents of the ampoule. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this before.”

“Really?” Shuya felt like he was constantly repeating this phrase to Shogo.

Shogo broke the seal of the small bottle and injected it with the syringe, filling it up with the liquid from the ampoule. After removing the syringe, he held the bottle and shook it vigorously. Then he injected the syringe again to extract the liquid mixture.

After preparing another syringe like this, he finally approached them.

“Is she going to be all right?” Shuya asked again. “What about side effects or shock?”

“That’s what I’m going to check for now. Just do as I say. Pull out Noriko’s arm.”

Unsure of the situation, Shuya lifted the side of the blanket and rolled up both the sleeves of his school coat and her sailor suit. Her arm was very thin and her healthy looking dark skin had now become excruciatingly white.

“Noriko,” Shogo asked her, “have you ever had any allergic reactions to any medicine?”

Noriko opened her eyes again in a daze.

Shogo repeated, “Are you allergic to any medicine?”

Noriko shook her head slightly.

“Good. I’m going to test you first though.”

Shogo held her arm out with her palm up, then took a cotton swab soaked with disinfectant and wiped the area between her wrist and elbow. He slowly inserted the needle, injecting only a small amount of the liquid. A slight bump formed on this area of her skin. Shogo took out another syringe and performed another injection.

“What are you doing?” Shuya asked.

“One of them is real medicine. If she’s in the same condition fifteen minutes later, we won’t have to worry about side effects. It means we can probably use the medicine. But…”

“But?”

Shogo quickly took out another larger bottle from the cardboard box. He placed it on the small desk nearby, prepared another syringe, and looked over at Shuya. “It’s not easy to diagnose septicemia. To be honest I can’t tell whether this is from septicemia or just a cold. Antibiotics are pretty potent, and that’s why we’re testing this on her, but the fact is my experience and knowledge is pretty limited, so injecting her with this syringe could be pretty dicey. On the other hand…”

Holding Noriko’s hand, Shuya waited for him to continue.

Shogo took a breath and continued, “If she is suffering from septicemia, then we have to treat her as soon as possible. Otherwise, it’ll be too late.”

Fifteen minutes passed by quickly. In the meantime, Shogo checked her pulse again and took her temperature. The thermometer read 39 degrees Celsius. No wonder she could barely stand.

Shuya couldn’t tell the difference between the two adjacent marks from the syringes. Shogo also appeared to reach the same conclusion and took the larger syringe.

Crouching down slightly, Shogo asked, “Noriko. Are you awake?”

Noriko answered with her eyes shut, “Uh huh…”

“I’ll be honest. I don’t know if you’re suffering from septicemia or not. I think you probably are.”

Noriko nodded slightly. She must have been able to follow Shuya and Shogo’s conversation moments ago.

“It’s all right… go ahead.”

Shogo nodded and inserted the syringe, this time deeply. He injected the liquid and removed the needle. Then he wiped her arm with the cotton and told Shuya, “Hold this.”

Shogo took the empty syringe and walked over to the sink to toss it away. Then he came back.

“Now she’s got to sleep. You look after her for a while. If she looks thirsty, you can use the whole bottle.”

Shuya said, “But that’s—”

Shuya shook his head.

“Don’t worry. I found a well behind the building. As long as we boil the water we can drink it.” Shogo left the room. Shuya turned towards the bed. With his right hand pressing the cotton swab and his left hand

gently holding Noriko’s hand, he watched over her.

42

Noriko fell asleep almost immediately. Shuya checked to make sure she wasn’t bleeding from the shot, then he tossed the cotton swab, tucked her arm under the blanket, and left the room.

The doctor’s living quarters was beyond the waiting room next door. There was a kitchen at the end of the hall on the right. Shogo was in there. The gas stove next to the sink wasn’t operating, but on it was a large pot filled with water, and under it a pile of charcoal was glowing red.

Shogo was standing on a table, looking through a built-in ceiling cabinet across from the sink. That’s when Shuya noticed for the first time that Shogo was wearing New Balance sneakers. He’d assumed they were some domestic brand like Mizumo or Kageboshi. New Balance! He’d never seen them before!

Whatever. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m looking for food. I found some rice and miso, but nothing else. The vegetables in the fridge are rotten.”

Shuya shook his head. “You’re stealing.”

“Of course I am,” Shogo said dryly and then added while he continued rummaging, “Forget about it. Just be ready. Anyone could show up at any moment. If the machine gun shooter shows up, we’ll be dead. So be ready.”

Shuya replied, “Yeah, all right.”

Shogo jumped off the table. The New Balance shoes squeaked against the floor.

“Is she asleep?” he asked.

Shuya nodded.

Shogo pulled out another pot from under the sink, walked up to the plastic rice container in the corner, and poured rice into the pot.

“So you’re boiling rice.”

“Yep. Noriko won’t recover eating that terrible bread.” Shogo scooped up a bowl of water from the bucket on the floor and poured it into the pot. He combed through the rice and only changed the water once. Next to the boiling water, he placed several pieces of charcoal from his day pack onto the other burner, then took out a pack of cigarettes and emptied them into his pocket. Then he crumpled the pack, lit it with his lighter, and stuck it into the charcoal. Once the charcoal was lit, he put the lidded pot of rice on the burner. It was an impressive sight.

“Damn,” Shuya said.

Shogo took a break as he lit up a cigarette and looked at Shuya.

“You’re so good at everything.”

“Yeah?” Shogo answered lightly. But something else flashed through Shuya’s mind. The moment Kaori Minami was murdered… you know what’s going to happen but there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Slow motion. Kaori spins around and the left side of her head’s blown off. It was blown away, did you see that? If it had been Shogo instead of Shuya, the outcome wouldn’t have been so horrible.

“Are you still bummed about Kaori?” Shogo said. Once again, Shogo’s psychic powers were on. The sunlight doesn’t reach this far inside, but that didn’t seem to affect him.

Shogo shook his head. “Don’t let it get to you. It was a bad situation. You did your best.”

Shogo’s voice was kind, but Shuya looked down. The corpse of Kaori Minami, collapsed on her side inside a grimy farm equipment shack. The pool of blood gradually spreading, oozing outward. By now, beginning to congeal. But the body would just stay there, with no ceremony, just left there like a disposed mannequin sprawled inside that shack. Of course in that sense she was no exception to Tatsumichi Oki, Kyoichi Motobuchi, Yukiko Kitano, and Yumiko Kusaka. Everyone else was in the same boat.

He felt like puking. They were all lying there, on the ground. Already close to twenty of them.

“Shogo.” The words spilled out.

In response Shogo tilted his head and slightly moved his hand that was holding the cigarette.

“What happens to the dead… their bodies?” Shuya asked. “Are they left there until this stupid game is over? So they just start rotting while the game is going on?”

Shogo answered as if it were an official matter. “That’s right. Once it’s over, the following day a clean-up crew is hired to take care of them.”

“Clean-up crew?” Shuya bared his teeth.

“Yep. I heard about it from someone who works for the subcontractor, so I’m sure it’s true. Self Defense Forces soldiers are too proud to perform such menial tasks. Of course, government officials accompany the crew to collect the collars and examine the bodies. You know, so the news media can report the number of deaths by strangulation, all that stuff.”

Shuya was pissed. He recalled that final part of the news report. The meaningless causes of deaths and itemization of each student.

But he also realized something and knit his brows.

Shogo saw this and asked, “What’s up?”

“Well, that doesn’t make sense. I mean these…” Shuya raised his hand up to his neck. His fingers touched the collar’s cold surface, its sensation no longer so strange. “I thought these were a secret. Shouldn’t they collect them before the hired hands come in?”

Shogo shrugged. “The cleaning crew have no idea what they’re for. They probably just assume they’re used as markers. The guy I talked to didn’t even remember them until I asked him about them. So there’s no rush. They can deal with the collars after the clean-up crew’s collected the bodies, right?”

It was true. But even so, something else bugged him.

“Hold on. What if one of these is defective? Let’s say it breaks down and someone who’s alive is assumed to be dead. Couldn’t that student escape? Shouldn’t they confirm all the dead right after the game?”

Shogo raised his brows. “You talk like you work for the government.”

“No…” he stammered. “It’s just that—”

“I doubt they could ever be defective. Think about it. If they actually could break down, this game couldn’t proceed smoothly. Besides, if a student equipped with weapons turned out to be alive, they couldn’t even afford to check the bodies. It’d turn into another battle.”

Shogo took a drag as he considered it more thoroughly. “This is just my guess, but I think each collar is loaded with multiple systems, so that if one breaks down, another gets switched on. Even if one system became defective—the chances of that being at least less than one in a hundred—if the systems were combined the probability would practically be reduced to zero. In other words,” he said, looking at Shuya, “it would be impossible for us to escape that way.”

Shuya understood. He saw no reason not to object. (Once again, he couldn’t help but be impressed by Shogo’s intelligence.)

But then—

The question he promised not to ask crossed his mind. Which was:

How did Shogo plan to beat a perfect, escape-proof system?

Before he could consider it, Shogo said, “Anyway, look, I have to apologize.”

“About what?”

“About Noriko. I was wrong. We should have treated her sooner.”

“No—” Shuya shook his head. “It’s okay. Thanks. I would have been useless on my own.”

Shogo exhaled and fixed his gaze on a part of the wall. “We’ll just have to wait and see. If it’s just a cold, then her fever will go down as soon as she gets some rest. And if it turns out it’s from septicemia then the medicine should kick in.”

Shuya nodded. He was grateful they had Shogo. Without Shogo, he would have been helpless, doomed to watch Noriko deteriorate. He was also sorry for saying to Shogo, “You can forget about our deal,” and heading off here. It was immature. Shogo must have made his decision after carefully weighing the risk of moving during the day against Noriko’s condition.

Shuya decided he should apologize. “Hey, I’m sorry. Saying you were on your own and all. I just got so excited—”

Still looking away from Shuya, Shogo shook his head and smiled. “No. You made the right decision. End of conversation.”

Shuya took a breath and decided to let it go. Then he asked, “Is your father still a practicing doctor?”

Shogo shook his head as he took a drag. “No.”

“What’s he doing? Is he still in Kobe?”

“No. He died.” Shogo said it casually.

Shuya’s eyes opened wide. “When?”

“Last year, while I was playing this game. By the time I got back he was dead. He probably got in a scuffle with the government.”

Shuya’s face stiffened. He was beginning to understand the glimmer in Shogo’s eyes when he’d said, “I’m going to tear up this fucking country.” The moment Shogo ended up in the Program, Shogo’s father must have tried some kind of protest. Which must have been met with a shower of bullets.

It occurred to Shuya that the parents of some of his classmates might have ended up the same way.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Shuya paused and then asked another question, “Then you moved to Kagawa Prefecture with your mother?”

Shogo shook his head and again replied, “No. My mom died when I was a kid. I was seven. She died from illness. My dad used to cry over the fact that he couldn’t even save her. But my dad specialized in surgery, like abortions. Nervous disorders were out of his field.”

Shuya apologized again, “I’m sorry.”

Shogo chuckled. “Hey, it’s all right. We both don’t have parents, right? And it’s true about getting a lifetime pension. I’ve got enough to live on. Although they don’t give you as much as they say they do.”

Bubbles began to form at the bottom of the first large pot. The charcoal under the rice pot was still mostly black, but the charcoal under the large pot was flaming red. The heat reached the table where Shuya and Shogo were standing next to each other. Shuya sat up on the table, which was covered with a flower-pattern vinyl tablecloth.

Without warning, Shogo suddenly said, “You were good friends with Yoshitoki Kuninobu.”

Shuya looked over at Shogo and looked at his profile. Then he looked ahead. It felt like a while since he’d last thought of Yoshitoki. He felt a little guilty about it.

“Yeah,” he answered. “We’ve known each other forever.” After hesitating a little, Shuya continued, “Yoshitoki had a crush on Noriko.”

Shogo continued smoking, listening.

Shuya wondered whether he should continue with what he was about to say. It had nothing to do with Shogo. But he decided to tell him anyway. Shogo was a friend now. It was all right for him to know, and besides, they had time to kill right now.

“Yoshitoki and I were at this orphanage called the Charity House—”

“I know.”

Shuya nodded and continued, “There’re all kinds of kids there. I ended up there when I was five. My parents were killed in a car accident. But that’s unusual. Most of them—”

Shogo understood. “They end up there because of ‘domestic’ problems. They’re illegitimate children.”

Shuya nodded. “So you know.”

“A little.”

He took a deep breath. “Well, Yoshitoki was illegitimate. Of course, no one at the orphanage told him, but there are ways to find out. He was conceived from an ‘illicit affair’ and both sides refused to take him in. So…”

The water made a gurgling sound.

“I remember something Yoshitoki once said to me. It was a long time ago, probably when we were still in elementary school.”

Shuya recalled that moment. They were in the corner of the school playground, rocking back and forth on a big swing made of a wooden log and wire rope.

“Hey, Shuya. I was thinking—”

“What?”

Shuya responded in his usual casual voice, kicking at the ground to rock the log. Yoshitoki didn’t put much effort into it, letting his legs dangle from both sides of the log.

“Well… uh…”

“What is it? Spit it out.”

“Well… do you have a crush on anyone?”

“Oh, please,” Shuya grinned. He knew it was something about girls. “So that’s it? What’s the matter? You have a crush on someone, huh?”

“Well…” Yoshitoki evaded the question and once again asked, “Well, do you?”

Shuya thought about it and then moaned, “Hmmm.”

By then he was “Wild Seven.” So he’d gotten several love letters. But at the time he never fell head over heels for anyone in particular. As it turned out, he wouldn’t until he met Kazumi Shintani.

He answered, “Well, I think there’re some cool girls.”

Yoshitoki didn’t say anything back so he assumed he wanted to hear more. He continued speaking in a light tone, “Komoto’s not bad. She actually wrote me a love letter. I haven’t, uh, responded though. Then there’s Utsumi, who’s on the volleyball team. She’s pretty cool. That’s my type. You know, real outgoing.”

Yoshitoki looked pensive.

“What is it? I told you, now you tell me. Who is it?”

But Yoshitoki only said, “No, that’s not it.”

Shuya knit his brows.

“What is it then?”

Yoshitoki seemed quite hesitant, but then he said, “You see, I never really understood.”

“Huh?”

“I mean…” His legs dangled passively as he continued, “I think if you really loved someone you’d marry her, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Shuya replied with an idiotic look on his face. “Yeah. If I loved someone, I’d want to marry her… I mean I don’t feel that way about anyone.”

“Right?” Yoshitoki said, as if it were only natural. Then he asked, “So let’s say you just can’t get married for some reason. If you ended up having a kid with her, wouldn’t you still want to raise the kid?”

Shuya felt a little uncomfortable. He’d just begun to get the idea of how babies were made.

“Having a kid? Hey, you’re still a kid. That’s dirty stuff. You know I heard that that’s—”

That was when Shuya finally remembered Yoshitoki was born as a result of an illicit affair and that neither of his parents wanted him. Startled, he held back what he was about to say.

Yoshitoki was staring at the log between his thighs. Then he mumbled, “My parents weren’t like that.”

Shuya suddenly felt really bad for him. “H-hey, Yoshi—”

He looked up at Shuya and said somewhat forcefully, “So I-I just don’t know. Loving someone. I don’t feel like I can trust that sort of thing.”

Shuya continued pushing with his legs, but he had no choice but to stare back at Yoshitoki. He felt as if he were being addressed in a language from another planet. At the same time, it sounded like a dreadful prophecy.

“I think—”

His hands by his waist, Shuya gripped the corners of the table covered with the vinyl tablecloth. Shogo continued smoking, squinting his eyes.

“I think Yoshitoki was a lot more mature at that point already. I was just a silly kid. And ever since then, Yoshitoki, even since we entered junior high, and I fell for someone,” this was Kazumi Shintani, “he never brought it up. That kind of worried me.”

Another gurgling sound.

“But then one day he told me he liked Noriko. I acted like it wasn’t a big deal, but I was so happy for him. And that was, that was…”

Shuya looked away from Shogo. He knew he was about to cry.

Once he managed to hold back his tears, he said without looking at Shogo and continued, “That was only two months ago.”

Shogo remained silent.

Shuya looked at Shogo again.

“So you see, I have to protect Noriko to the very end.”

After staring back at Shuya for a while, Shogo only said, “I see,” and rubbed out his cigarette out against the tablecloth.

“Don’t tell Noriko. I’ll tell her about Yoshitoki once we’ve gotten out of this game.”

Shogo nodded and replied, “All right.”

43

Five hours had passed since the Macintosh PowerBook 150’s connection to the internet had been cut off with a warning beep. Shinji Mimura scrolled through a document in one of the windows on the display monitor of the 150 that was now reduced to a word processor.

He’d worked on the phone, checked the connections, and rebooted over and over but the gray monitor responded with the same message. Finally, after disconnecting all the modem and phone cords, he came to the conclusion his cell phone had completely broke down. Without a phone line he couldn’t even access his home computer. And of course, calling all the girls he’d ever gone with and sobbing over how he was, “About to die, but I loved you the most,” was out of the question. He still believed he could get to the bottom of this and considered taking apart his cell phone—but then stopped.

A chill ran down his spine.

It was obvious now why he wasn’t able to dial in anymore. The government had managed to locate the line test number used by the DTT technician, the number used for the special phone with the counterfeit “Second ROM” he’d painstakingly built. They’d cut off all connections including this one. The question was, how had they managed to do this? His hacking had been flawless. He knew that much.

The only way he could imagine the government discovering his hacking was through some method outside their computer’s internal security system, their warning system, and other manual monitoring systems. And now that they knew—

The moment Shinji realized what it was, his hand went for the collar around his neck.

Now that the government knew, it wouldn’t be all that surprising if the bomb went off, would it? They probably wouldn’t spare Yutaka either.

Thanks to this realization, the government-supplied water and bread they had for lunch tasted even worse.

After Yutaka saw Shinji turn off the laptop, he asked for an explanation. Shinji only replied, “It’s no good. I don’t know why, but it’s not working. Maybe the phone’s broken.”

Ever since then Yutaka’s mood became gloomy, and he slouched back to the way he’d been earlier that morning. Other than the occasional gunshots and brief exchanges it remained silent. Shinji’s great escape plan that mesmerized Yutaka had completely fallen apart.

But—

I’ll still make them regret they didn’t kill me right away. No matter what.

He thought a little, then dug into his pants pocket and pulled out an old pocketknife he carried around with him ever since he was a kid. There was a small tube tied to the keyring on the knife. Shinji examined the scratched up tube.

His uncle had given him the knife a long time ago. And the tube was, like the earring on his left ear, another memento from his uncle. Like Shinji, his uncle had kept it chained to a small knife and always carried it around.

The thumb-sized tube, with its rubber ring under the cap, was a waterproof case used by soldiers. It was normally used to hold a document with name, blood type, and history of illness in case of injury. Others used it as a matchbox. Until his death, Shinji assumed his uncle kept that sort of thing in it too. But after he died, when he opened the tube, Shinji found something completely different inside. In fact the tube’s casing itself was carved out of a special alloy and contained two smaller cylinders inside. Shinji took out the two cylinders. He had no idea what they were. The only thing he could tell was that their contents were supposed to be mixed.

The thread of the screw from one of the cylinders fit perfectly into the other one. The reason why they were kept apart was that it was risky to connect them. And once he found out what they were for, after some research (no wonder they were separate—otherwise, you couldn’t carry those cases around), he still had no idea why his uncle carried this around wherever he went. It served no particular purpose. Or maybe like the earring Shinji wore, his uncle had merely held onto it to remind himself of someone. Anyway, it was another piece of evidence from his uncle’s past for Shinji to ponder over.

Shinji turned the squeaky cap and opened it. He hadn’t opened it since his uncle died. He dropped the two cylinders into the palm of his hand. Then he opened the seal of the smaller cylinder.

It had been stuffed with cotton to make it shockproof. There was the dull yellow of brass underneath the cotton.

After examining it, he returned both cylinders back into the larger container and screwed the cap back on. He’d thought that if he ever had to use this, it would be after they escaped the island, or after messing up the school computer. It might have been handy after they equipped themselves and attacked Sakamochi and the others—but now this was all they had.

He flipped out the blade from his pocketknife. The sun had moved west, and the bushes reflecting against the silver steel were dark yellow. Then he pulled out a pencil from his school coat pocket. It was the pencil they all used to write the phrase, “We will kill,” before the game began. Because he’d used it to mark the forbidden zones and check off the names of dead classmates, its point was now blunt. Shinji sharpened the pencil with his knife. Then he pulled out his map from another pocket and turned it over. It was blank.

“Yutaka.”

Yutaka had been hugging his knees and gazing at the ground. He looked up. His eyes were shining. “Did you come up with something?” he asked.

Shinji wasn’t exactly sure why Yutaka’s response ticked him off. It might have been the tone of his voice, or maybe the words. Shinji felt like saying, what the hell—here I am banging my head against the wall trying to come up with an escape plan and all you’ve been doing is sitting on your ass! You swore you were going to get back at them for Izumi Kanai, but you haven’t done squat. You think this is a fast food restaurant where I’m working the register? You want some fries with that?

But Shinji restrained himself.

Yutaka’s round cheeks were sunken and his cheekbones stuck out. It was only natural. He must have been worn out by the pressure of this game that could end at any moment for them.

Ever since he was a kid Shinji was always the best athlete in the class. (Although this changed in his second year in junior high, when he was joined by Shuya Nanahara and Kazuo Kiriyama. He could beat them in basketball, but he wasn’t sure about other sports.) His uncle had taken him mountain climbing ever since he was a kid, and he was confident in any competition that required stamina. But not everyone was built like The Third Man. Yutaka was a poor athlete, and when the cold season came he was often absent. Fatigue must have been overwhelming him, and it might be numbing his thinking too.

That was when Shinji realized something important. Wasn’t the fact that he was even a little upset at Yutaka an indication of his own fatigue? Of course, given how their chances of survival were close to nil, it would have been much stranger not to be worn out.

No.

I have to be careful. If this were a basketball game, you’d just feel bad about losing—but in this game you end up dead.

Shinji shook his head.

“What’s wrong?” Yutaka asked.

Shinji looked up at him, forcing a smile. “Nothing. Hey, I just want to take a look at the map. Okay?”

Yutaka came over to Shinji.

“Hey,” Shinji raised his voice. “There’s a bug on your neck!”

Yutaka touched his neck.

“I’ll get it,” Shinji stopped him and approached Yutaka. He fixed his eyes on the nape of Yutaka’s neck—but he was searching for something else.

“Oh, it’s moved,” he said and got behind him. Shinji examined his neck again.

“Did you get it?”

As he listened to Yutaka’s shrill, terrified voice, Shinji took a closer look.

Then he lightly brushed away the nape of Yutaka’s neck. He crushed the imaginary bug with the sole of his sneakers and (pretending) he picked it up and (pretending once again) tossed it out.

“I got it,” he said. He was now facing Yutaka and added, “Looked like a little centipede.”

“Oh man,” Yutaka rubbed the nape of his neck and looked over where Shuya had (apparently) tossed it, grimacing.

Shinji broke into a slight grin and said, “Come on, let’s look at the map.”

Yutaka looked over, then knit his brows when he saw that it was turned over.

Shinji waved his index finger to get his attention and scribbled on the back of the map. His writing wasn’t very neat. Several scrawled letters appeared at the edge of the paper.

They can hear us.

Yutaka’s face twitched and asked, “Really? How can you tell?” Shinji quickly put his hand over Yutaka’s mouth. Yutaka understood and nodded.

Shinji released his hand and said, “I just know. I know a lot about insects. That one wasn’t poisonous.” Then just to be sure, he scribbled again, Pretend to check map. Don’t say anything to make them suspicious.

“Well, now that the computer’s failed, there’s nothing we can do,” Shinji said, providing some fake commentary. Then he wrote: They heard my explanation and cut the Mac connection. I screwed up. They know some of us are going to resist so they’re monitoring our conversation. Should have known .

Yutaka took out his pencil from his pocket and wrote under Shinji’s scrawled letters. His writing was much neater than Shinji’s.

How can they use a monitoring devise on such a big island? He had copied Shinji’s spelling for monitoring, but “device” was spelled incorrectly. Whatever. This wasn’t composition class.

“I think we should look for others. We can’t do much on our own. So…” Shinji said as he lightly tapped on his collar with his finger. Yutaka’s eyes widened as he nodded.

Shinji then scribbled again: I checked your collar. It doesn’t seem to have a camera. Only listening device. I don’t think they’re any cameras in the area. Maybe satellites, but the woods are covering us. They can’t see what we’re doing now. Spelling wasn’t Shinji’s strongest suit either.

Yutaka’s eyes widened again, and he glanced upward. The branches were swaying, cutting them off completely from the blue sky.

Yutaka’s face then stiffened suddenly as if he’d realized something. He gripped his pencil and wrote on the back of the map: Mac stopped working because you told me about it. If not for me, you would have succeeded!

Shinji poked Yutaka’s shoulder with the index finger of his left hand and smiled at him. Then he scribbled: Don’t sweat it. Should have been more careful. Collars could have gone off the moment they heard, but they’re “mercifully” letting us live.

Yutaka touched the nape of his neck, eyes wide. He stared at Shinji and then tightened his lips and nodded. Shinji nodded back at him.

“I wonder where they’re hiding out—”

I’m writing my plan here. Fake our conversation. Just go with the flow.

Yutaka nodded and then quickly responded, “Hmm, but I’m not sure we can trust anyone.”

Good going. Shinji grinned. Yutaka grinned back.

“That’s true. I think we can trust Shuya. I want to hook up with Shuya.”

If comp worked we could have saved others but now we can only worry about saving ourselves. All right with that?

Yutaka considered it and then wrote, Not looking for Shuya?

Right. Can’t afford to worry about others anymore.

Yutaka bit his lip, but finally nodded.

Shinji nodded back. If this works out, game will get held up. Might give others chance to escape.

Yutaka gave two small nods.

“You think everyone’s hiding in the mountain like us? Maybe some of them are hiding in houses?”

“Maybe…”

Shinji was deliberating over what to write next when Yutaka wrote, What’s the plan?

Shinji nodded and gripped his pencil. I’ve been waiting for something to happen since morning. Yutaka tilted his head, his pencil down. Announcement that game has been canceled. I’m still waiting.

Yutaka looked surprised and tilted his head in bewilderment. Shinji grinned at him.

When I got access to school comp, I found all backup files. And file search apps. Then before I downloaded, I infected them all with virus.

Yutaka silently formed the word “virus?” with his mouth. Hey, Yutaka, how about writing it out?

Shinji wrote, Virus would enter school comp system if they search files or backups. Would wreak havoc on the system and freeze game.

Impressed, Yutaka gave several brief nods. Shinji knew it was a waste of time, but wrote it out anyway, I designed virus. It’s cool. It’s like getting athlete’s foot, but 100x worse.

Yutaka held back the urge to laugh, but gave a broad grin.

It’ll destroy all data and play “The Star Spangled Banner” on repeat. It’ll drive em crazy.

Yutaka held his stomach, doing his best not to laugh, and pressed his hand against his mouth. Shinji also did his best not to burst out laughing.

Now they’ve discovered me, maybe they won’t get those files. Then game will have to stop. But it hasn’t. So they’ve only done routine checks. I didn’t go through any main files.

“Why don’t we go find them then?”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Yeah, but we have a gun.”

My plan: make them get files. Will activate virus.

Shinji pulled his laptop over and showed Yutaka the document he’d been looking over. It was a 42-line text file. The data download had been interrupted, but of all the copied files this was the most important one. The horizontal text. Each row began with a listing on the left, from “M01” to “M21,” followed by “F01” to “F21,” in succession. Each listing was accompanied by a ten-digit number resembling a phone number, all in succession as well. Finally there were what appeared to be random sixteen-digit numbers. A small comma was inserted between these three listings. The file name at the heading was cryptic: guadalcanal-shiroiwa3b

What’s this? Yutaka wrote.

Shinji nodded. These are the #‘s assigned to our collars.

Yutaka gave a huge nod as if to say, oh. So “M01” was Male Student No. 1 (Yoshio Akamatsu), and “F01” was Female Student No. 1 (Mizuho Inada, that weird girl).

Collars are like cell phones. Each band has a number and password. Use numbers to set them off. So

Shinji stopped and looked at Yutaka.

If data’s infected with virus we won’t have to worry about collars blowing us up. Virus will keep spreading. If they have backup files they can’t stop it. If they reprogram to stop virus we’ll be in trouble, but it will still buy us time.

“How about tossing pebbles at certain places to see if someone comes running out?”

“Wait, what if it’s a girl? She might scream. That could be dangerous, not just to us, but the girl. I mean, assuming she’s not ‘bad.’”

“Huh.”

How will you make them do it?

Outside school building did you see room for SDF?

Yutaka nodded.

Computers in there, remember?

Yutaka’s eyes opened wide again as he shook his head. I couldn’t afford to.

Shinji chuckled a little. I got a good look. They have a row of desktop computers and large server. Someone stuck out though. It was an ensine. Or was it “ensign”? Forget it. He had a pin on his uniform. He was the tech. A computer runs this whole game. All we have to do is attack the school so they think we might ugh, another word I can’t spell aniyulate their data. We need to get materials we can actually blow up the entire computer.

Shinji stopped writing. He spread his hands with the exaggerated motion of a magician. Then he wrote on the map,

BOMB THE SCHOOL ESCAPE BY SEA

Yutaka’s eyes were now bulging. He mouthed the word “Bomb?”

Shinji grinned.

“Maybe we should look for some weapons though. That fork is pretty useless.”

“Uh huh. Yeah.”

We need gasoline. There’s a gas station at the harbor, but we can’t get there. There are several cars here though. Maybe have fuel? Worst case use oil. We also need fertilizer.

Yutaka knit his brows, puzzled. Fertilizer?

Shinji nodded and tried to write out the name of the fertilizer compound, but he didn’t know how to spell it. He was a casualty of spell-check. Anyway, what mattered was the molecular formula.

Amoniem nitrate. If we find it, we can make bomb with gasoline.

Shinji pulled out his knife and the tube tied to it. He showed it to Yutaka.

This is a detonater. Too complicated to explain why I have one. I just do.

Yutaka looked thoughtful. Then he wrote

That uncle?

Shinji grinned and nodded. Yutaka knew because Shinji was always going on and on about his uncle.

Yutaka wrote,

How are we going to bomb the school? We can’t get near it. Make a giant sling with trees?

Ah ha. Shinji smiled. No. Not precise enough. Too bad we don’t have a bunch of bombs. But we have only one detonater, so we have only 1 chance. Rope and pulley.

Yutaka opened his mouth as if to say, Oh.

Can’t get near school, but can go to mountain area and area on other side of school.

Shinji flipped over the map and indicated the areas to Yutaka. Then he flipped it back over.

From mountain to flat—no, wrong. Tie rope from flats to mountain. About 300 m. Stretch it tight so we can slide bomb down on pulley. Then cut rope when it’s on top of school. My special SLAM DUNK.

Once again impressed, Yutaka nodded enthusiastically.

“It might be best to find weapons during the day.”

“Yeah, I think so too. It’ll be easier than finding someone.”

Let’s get to work. There’s a pulley by a well L saw. Get gas from cars. Fertilizer and rope? L don’t know. Can we find rope that long?

They fell silent, but then Yutaka quickly wrote,

Let’s go for it.

Shinji nodded.

We might kill Sakamochi and soldiers. But all we have to do is make them think data’s damaged. Then he pointed at his neckband and wrote: these can’t kill us.

Then escape by sea?

Shinji nodded.

But I can’t swim. He looked at Shinji warily.

Shinji interrupted Yutaka’s writing and wrote, Full moon tonight. Use tide current. According to my calculations tide will carry us at 6-7 kph. If we swim fast it will take <20 min. to reach next island.

Yutaka’s admiration burst beyond the expression in his eyes as he shook his head vigorously.

What about guard ship?

Shinji nodded.

They might find us but because game’s run by computers my guess is they will be lax. One ship for each direction is kinda lame. Their weakness. Once computers down they won’t know where we are. Guard ship will only be able to chase us on their own. If they have satellites, cameras can’t see at night. We don’t have to worry about our heads blowing up. We have chance to escape.

It won’t be easy.

I have another idea.

Shinji dug into the day pack and pulled out a small transceiver. This was another item he found in someone’s house.

I can increase output by customizing. Not hard. At sea I’ll send out an SOS. We can say our boat overturned or something.

Yutaka’s face beamed. Some ship will pick us up.

Shinji shook his head. No. Government will come at us so we give them false location. We escape in opposite direction.

Yutaka shook his head. Then he wrote out

SHINJI YOUR AWESOME

Shinji shook his head and smiled.

“All right, then.” He looked at his watch. It was already 4 p.m.

“We’ll take off in five minutes.”

“Uh huh.”

Shinji felt worn out from all the handwriting, which he didn’t do very often. He tossed his pencil. Like a PC communication log file, the back of the map was filled with letters. (He would have preferred to communicate by laptop, but Yutaka didn’t know how to type.)

Then he grabbed the pencil and added, Not a great plan. Our chances are slim. This is all I can think of.

He shrugged and looked at Yutaka.

Yutaka gave him a cheerful smile and wrote,

Let’s go for it!

44

On the southern side of the northern mountain, a boy sat on a spot on a slope covered with thick vegetation. He was looking at himself with a mirror he held in his left hand, neatly arranging his pompadour with the comb in his right. Ever since the game began he might have been the only student in class, including the girls, who felt like he could afford to take good care of his hair. But that was only natural. Although he had a thuggish-looking face, he paid an inordinate amount of attention to his personal appearance, and although no one knew exactly why, this boy was known, or no, had been known until now as “Zulu,” he was in any case…

Queer.

As for his location, he was at a horizontal distance directly two hundred meters west of where Shinji Mimura and Yutaka Seto were hiding. He was also approximately six hundred meters northwest of the medical facility where Shuya’s trio was. In other words, he was right above the farmhouse where Shuya Nanahara had witnessed Kaori Minami get shot by Hirono Shimizu. If he looked up he would have had a clear view of the platform where the bodies of Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano were still lying, bathed in the light of the setting sun.

This student arranging his hair had seen the corpses of Yumiko Kusaka, Yukiko Kitano, as well as that of Kaori Minami. He had actually seen more. Kaori Minami’s was the seventh corpse he’d seen.

Ugh, yuck. Leaves stuck in my hair again! Every time I lie down, this happens.

With the pinky of his right hand, the boy brushed the blade of grass from his hair and then looked beyond his own face in the mirror to the woods approximately twenty meters below him.

Ka. Zu. O. Are you asleep?

The boy’s thick lips twisted into a smile.

Aren’t you being careless? Well, even you could probably never guess that after you’d failed to kill me I’d be following you.

Yes, this queer boy who was holding a mirror and comb was the only member of the “Kiriyama family” who’d escaped Kazuo’s massacre by not showing up at the assigned meeting place. And now he, Sho Tsukioka (Male Student No. 14), was the only surviving member of the Kiriyama family. In the shrubbery was Kazuo Kiriyama himself, who’d already finished off six students. For the last two hours Kazuo had remained still, though.

Sho looked back at himself in the mirror, this time checking his complexion as he recalled how Mitsuru would always warn him against referring to Kazuo as “Kazuo-kun.” Mitsuru would say something like, “Hey Sho, you have to call the boss, boss.” But even bold Mitsuru seemed to have a hard time with a “feminine guy,” so as soon as Sho would respond with a casual sidelong glance, saying, “Oh, give me a break. Don’t be so picky, it’s not very manly,” and Mitsuru would just grimace, mumbling and letting it go at that.

Call him boss, huh? Sho thought as he looked over each of his eyes in the mirror. But you ended up getting killed by that so-called boss. You’re a fool.

It was true. Sho Tsukioka had been more cautious than Mitsuru. It wasn’t as if he had a clear sense of Kazuo the way Mitsuru had imagined right before his death, but Sho had always held the basic belief that betrayals happen all the time. That’s how the world is. One could say that, compared to Mitsuru, who was just a good fighter, Sho, who’d seen more of the adult world as a result of going in and out of the gay bar his father ran ever since he was a kid, was more sophisticated.

Instead of heading straight to the southern tip of the island, as Kazuo had requested, Sho moved inward from the coast, weaving his way through the woods. This ended up being a hassle, but it probably only cost him ten more minutes.

He ended up seeing it all from the woods along the beach. Three bodies, two wearing coats and one in her sailor suit, sprawled on the rock stretching out into the ocean across the beach. There was Kazuo Kiriyama, standing quietly in the crevice of the rock, hidden in shadows from the moonlight.

Mitsuru Numai appeared almost immediately. After a brief exchange, he was pummeled by machine gun bullets and left on the rock that was drenched with blood now (its stench even reached Sho)….

Oh my, Sho thought. This is trouble.

By the time he began following Kazuo Kiriyama walking away from the scene, Sho had already decided on his course of action.

To assist him in this course of action, the top candidate was undoubtedly Kazuo Kiriyama. He couldn’t hear what Kazuo and Mitsuru were saying to each other, but given how Kazuo had decided to play the game, he was sure Kazuo would be the best. Furthermore, at the very least, Kazuo carried not only a machine gun (was that his supplied weapon or did it belong to one of the three students he had killed?) but also Mitsuru’s pistol. No one could win in a direct confrontation with Kazuo now.

Sho had one advantage though, something he knew he was extremely good at. He had a talent for sneaking into places and stealing when no one was looking and was also good at following people. (When he found a boy he liked, he could stalk him endlessly.) A talent to be sneaky—what do you mean sneaky, how dare you?—in all respects. As for the weapon he found in his day pack, it was a Derringer .22 Double High Standard. The cartridge was a magnum, lethal at close range, but not the best gun for a shootout.

So, Sho thought, even if Kazuo Kiriyama was going to emerge victorious, he’d have to take on tough guys like Shogo Kawada and Shinji Mimura (definitely my type) who, if they had guns, would probably end up injuring him. And all that fighting should wear him out.

Then I’ll just follow him until the end. At the very end I can just shoot him from behind. The moment he thinks he’s finished off the last one, he’ll let his guard down and that’s when I’ll shoot him. Even Kazuo would never suspect someone would be following him, especially me, since I blew him off last night.

That way Sho wouldn’t have to sully his hands in this game where you had to kill your classmates off one by one. It wasn’t that he felt a strong moral objection to killing them, it was just that, he thought, I don’t want to kill innocent kids—it’s so vulgar. Kazuo’s going to do the killing. I’m just going to stay behind him. He might be killing someone right in front of me, but it’s not like I can interfere, that’s too dangerous. And so at the very end, I’m going to kill him out of self-defense. I mean, if I don’t kill him, he’ll kill me. That was his line of thinking.

There was another advantage he had in following Kazuo. If he stayed close to Kazuo, then he wouldn’t have to worry much about being attacked. And on the off chance that he was, as long as he dodged the first attack Kazuo would have to respond. All Sho would have to do is flee the scene and Kazuo would take care of the rest. Of course, that would also mean losing track of Kazuo, bringing his plan to an end, so he wanted to avoid this scenario as much as possible.

He decided to maintain a basic distance of twenty meters behind Kazuo. He’d move forward when Kazuo did and stop when Kazuo stopped. There was also the issue of the forbidden zones. Kazuo must have also been considering it, so he’d probably keep a good distance away from the zones. As long as Sho maintained his distance, he should be safe from entering the zones. When Kazuo stopped, he’d check the map to make sure he wasn’t in a forbidden zone.

Everything had proceeded according to plan.

Kazuo left the southern tip of the island and after entering several houses in the residential area (probably finding what he was looking for), he decided to head to the northern mountain for some reason and then sat down. In the morning, when he heard the distant gunfire, he looked over there, but decided not to move, perhaps because of the distance. But then a little while later when Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano began calling from the peak of the mountain with their megaphone he moved quickly and after making sure no one was responding to their call (now wasn’t there another gunshot? Sho believed there was, urging Yumiko and Yukiko to hide. Wow, how wonderful, so there’s a real humanitarian out there. He was moved, but not enough to alter his plans) he shot them dead. Then he descended the northern slope. There was another distant gunshot, but he stayed put on this one too.

Then, this just happened, just before 3 p.m. he began moving after hearing gunfire on this side of the mountain. But what he (and Sho) found at the source was the dead body of Kaori Minami, lying inside a farm equipment storage shack. Kazuo went down to check the body, probably to go through her belongings, but it looked like someone else had gotten there before them. Then he proceeded to move on—

And now he’s in the woods right under me.

Kazuo’s plan seemed simple, at least for now. Once he knew where someone was, he’d go there and shoot away. Sho was exasperated by the merciless way he’d killed Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano (Kazuo, you have such a plain name but your actions are out of control. And yet my name sounds like a celebrity’s, Sho Tsukioka, but I’m just a Plain Jane), but it was pointless to fret over these details. For now he should be happy that Kazuo was completely clueless about his presence.

Kazuo appeared to be resting quietly. He might have been sleeping.

On the other hand Sho couldn’t sleep at all, but he felt he was strong in that department as well. Naturally. Girls had more stamina than guys. That’s what I read in one of those popular books.

What turned out to be a real drag instead was that he was a heavy smoker. The smell of cigarette smoke, depending on the wind direction, would give him away to Kazuo. No, the sound of his electronic lighter flicking open could be even more fatal.

Sho pulled out his pack of imported Virginia Slims Menthol cigarettes (he liked the name, though of course it was hard to get them in this country, but there were places that carried them, and all he had to do was steal them. He had piles of boxes in his room—and carefully placed the thin cigarette between his lips. He caught a whiff of the faint smell of tobacco leaves and that unique menthol odor and felt mild relief from his withdrawal. He wanted to fill his lungs with smoke—but somehow managed to suppress the urge.

I simply cannot die. There’s too much fun waiting for me in my prime.

To distract himself, he lifted the mirror in his left hand and caught a view of his face with the cigarette in his mouth. He tilted his head slightly and examined his sidelong glance.

I am so pretty. On top of that, I’m so smart. It’s inevitable I should be the winner of this game. Only the beautiful survive. That’s God’s—

Out of the corner of his eye, the bushes rustled slightly.

Sho quickly removed the cigarette from his mouth and put it into his pocket, along with his mirror. Then he gripped the Derringer and grabbed his day pack with his left hand.

Kazuo Kiriyama’s slicked-back head appeared on the edge of the bushes. He looked to his left and right and then northward—directly to the left of Sho—up the slope.

In the shade of the azalea tree covered in pink leaves, Sho raised his brow slightly.

What’s he doing?

He heard no gunfire. No strange noise at all. Was there something over there?

Sho looked over there, but saw no movement.

Kazuo emerged from shrubs. He had his day pack on his left shoulder and the machine gun slung over his right shoulder with his hand on its grip. He began climbing the slope, weaving his way in between the trees. He quickly reached Sho’s higher position and moved on up. Sho then stood up and began following him.

Not at all in keeping with his large frame, 117 centimeters tall, Sho moved gracefully, like a cat. He carefully maintained the twenty meters behind Kazuo’s black school coat that intermittently flashed between the trees. Sho’s confidence was justified when it came to this sort of thing.

Kazuo’s movement was also very precise and quick. He’d stop in the shade of a tree, check ahead, and where the vegetation got thick, would get on his knees and check underneath before proceeding. The only trouble being that…

…your back’s wide open, Kazuo.

They must have covered a hundred meters. The observatory was on the top left. Kazuo stopped there.

The rows of trees in front of him were interrupted by a narrow, unpaved road. It was less than two meters wide, just wide enough for a car.

Oh… this was the path leading up to the peak. We crossed it right before we saw Kaori Minami’s body, Sho thought.

On Kazuo’s right, where he was looking, there was a space with a bench and a beige prefab toilet. Maybe it was a resting area for climbers on the way to the peak.

Kazuo surveyed the area and then looked behind Sho, but Sho of course had hidden himself away in the shade. Kazuo stepped onto the path and ran up to the toilet. He opened the door and went in. He stuck his head out and looked around again before he closed the door. He left it slightly ajar, maybe just in case he had to escape if something happened.

Oh my. Sho brought his hand to his lips. Oh my. Sho remained crouched, trying hard not to burst into a fit of laughter.

It was true, since Sho had started following him, Kazuo hadn’t gone to the bathroom even once. He might have used the toilet in one of the houses he entered before sunrise, but in any case, it’d be impossible to hold it an entire day, so Sho assumed he took care of business hidden in the bushes. (Anyway, that’s what Sho did. It was a pain not to make any sound though.) But turned out he was wrong. After all, Kazuo Kiriyama came from a wealthy family. Maybe the thought of going anywhere besides a real toilet was out of the question. He must have remembered seeing this toilet when he passed through here a while ago. That’s why he came back here.

That’s it, I’m sure. Even Kazuo Kiriyama has to pee. How cute.

He was pissing against the bowl now. Sho could hear it splashing against the bowl. Tee hee. Once again Sho tried hard not to laugh.

Then he remembered something and flipped his wrist over to check his watch. They were near sector D-8, which Sakamochi had announced would turn into a forbidden zone at 5 p.m.

The elegant italic numerals on the women’s watch indicated 4:57 p.m. (He’d set his watch to Sakamochi’s announcement, so it was accurate.) Sho took out his map and examined the northern mountain area. The mountain road was only marked by a dotted line on the map, and the rest area and public toilet wasn’t marked in or outside the lines marking off D=8.

Sho suddenly became tense and unconsciously lifted his hand up to his metallic collar. He suddenly felt the urge to return the way he’d come but—

He looked over at toilet, where the sprinkling sound continued. He shrugged and exhaled lightly.

We’re talking about Kazuo Kiriyama here, after all. Even if nature called, he would have checked his position. The reason why he cautiously looked over here before moving out of the bushes where he was hiding was to determine whether the toilet was in D-8 or not. And Sho’s position was approximately thirty meters west of the toilet. Kazuo was closer to the zone than he was, so the fact that Kazuo was over there, in other words, meant that he was safe too. He mustn’t lose Kazuo by succumbing to irrational fear. That would ruin his plan.

Sho pulled out the Virginia Slims he’d taken out a moment ago and put it between his lips. Then he looked at the dimming sky. At this time of year, it’d still be another two hours before sundown, but the darkening sky was now tinged with orange from the west, and the tips of several tiny clouds had become bright orange. It was beautiful. Just like me.

The sprinkling continued. Sho grinned again. You must have held it for a long time, Kazuo.

It still continued.

Oh, I really need a smoke. I’d like to take a shower, polish my nails, and mix my favorite screwdriver, and as I sip this drink I’d have a nice relaxing…

It still went on.

Oh geez, I wish he’d stop. Hey, let’s wrap it up, come on and let’s get to work.

But… it still continued.

That was when Sho finally knit his drooping, thick brows. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and quickly got up. He approached the toilet, moving along the shrubs, and squinted his eyes

The sprinkling sound continued. And the door was left slightly ajar.

Just then a sudden wind blew by, opening the squeaky door. What brilliant timing.

Sho’s eyes opened wide.

Inside the toilet a government-supplied water bottle was hanging from the ceiling as it swung in the wind. Kazuo had probably pierced it with a blade because there was a very thin stream of water trickling out, fluttering with the wind.

Sho panicked.

Then he saw the back of a school coat below, weaving its way through the trees. He saw the unique slicked-back hairstyle which he could recognize even from behind this far away.

Wh-wh-what? Kazuo? But then… hey, but I’m…

As Kazuo disappeared beyond the shrubs, Sho heard a thud. It resembled the sound of a silencer, or a gunshot into a pillow. It was impossible to say whether the sound came from the bomb itself in the government’s custom Program collar or from the vibration it made through his body.

Over one hundred meters below, Kazuo Kiriyama didn’t even look back as he glanced down at his watch.

Seven seconds past five.

45

With a brief stir Noriko opened her eyes. It was past 7 p.m. She gazed at the ceiling of the room, now turned dark. Then she looked at Shuya beside her.

Shuya got up a from his seat and removed the damp towel on her forehead. He touched it. Just as it was when he checked last time, her fever was almost gone. Shuya felt a wave of relief. Great. Really.

“Shuya.” Noriko’s voice was still dazed, “What time is it?”

“It’s past seven. You slept well.”

“I…”

Shuya nodded. “Your fever’s gone down. Shogo said it probably wasn’t from septicemia. It was just a really bad cold. Probably from fatigue.”

“I see.” Noriko nodded slowly as if she were also relieved. Then she turned to Shuya. “I’m sorry for all this trouble.”

“What are you talking about?” Shuya shook his head. “It’s not your fault at all.” Then he asked, “Can you eat? We have rice.”

Noriko’s eyes opened wide. “Rice?”

“Yeah, just hold on. Shogo cooked some.” Shuya left the room.

Shogo was sitting on the chair by the window by the kitchen door. The last traces of light—more like particles of blue, closer to indigo—entered the window, but where Shogo was sitting it was almost completely pitch black.

“Noriko’s up?”

Shuya nodded.

“How about her fever?”

“She’s fine. It seems to be gone.”

Shogo gave him a slight nod, then stood up, holding the shotgun as usual. He opened the lid of the pot on the gas stove. Shuya and Shogo had already had their share of cooked rice and miso soup. The miso soup base came from some strange leaves growing in the back of the building.

“Is the food cold?” Shuya asked.

Shogo gave him a brief reply, “Wait five or ten minutes. I’ll bring it over.”

“Thanks.” Shuya returned to the examination room. He sat down by the bed and gave Noriko a small nod. “Wait a little. Shogo’s going to bring some real rice.”

Noriko nodded. Then she asked, “Is there a bathroom here?”

“Uh, yeah. Over here.”

Shuya helped Noriko out of the bed. Supporting her with his arm, he showed her to the bathroom beyond the waiting room. She was still staggering, but she’d definitely recovered from the terrible condition she was in before.

Shuya helped Noriko return to her bed. As Noriko sat down on the edge of the bed, Shuya wrapped her shoulders with the blanket the way Ms. Anno had done for him at the Charity House when he was a kid.

“Once you’ve eaten,” Shuya said as he pulled at the edges of the blanket, “I think you should get some more sleep. We’re going to have to leave this place by 11 p.m.”

Noriko stared at Shuya. Her eyes still looked slightly unfocused. “You mean—”

Shuya nodded. “Yeah, this zone’s going to be forbidden at eleven.”

It was part of the announcement Sakamochi gave at 6 p.m. Other zones included G-1 at 7 p.m. and I-3 at 9 p.m. That meant the southwest border and the southern slope of the southern mountain. Since it was hard to tell exactly where the border of the forbidden zone was, the southwest shore area was all off limits now.

Noriko looked down at her kneecaps and touched her forehead under her bangs. “I was sleeping like an idiot.”

Shuya reached out and touched Noriko on the shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. You were better off sleeping. You need to rest more. Take it easy.”

But Noriko glanced up and asked, “Did anyone else— besides Kaori—die?”

Shuya tightened his lips. Then he nodded. “Takako. And Sho and Kazushi.”

According to Sakamochi’s announcement, these four had died during the six hours after twelve o’clock. Now there were only twenty-one students left. Only eighteen hours had passed since the game began, yet Third Year Class B of Shiroiwa Junior High had been reduced to half its size.

“And one more thing,” Sakamochi had said enthusiastically. “Sho Tsukioka was caught in a forbidden zone. So I want you all to be careful.”

Sakamochi didn’t say where Sho had died, and Shuya couldn’t remember hearing a big explosion in the afternoon. At the same time he couldn’t see any reason Sakamochi would lie. That big, boorish-looking guy who oddly enough acted really feminine, “Zuki” of the Kiriyama family, had gotten himself caught in a zone. As a result, his head was blown off. Besides their boss then, the entire Kiriyama family was decimated.

Shuya thought of telling Noriko about this, but after seeing how troubled she looked, he decided not to. He doubted that sharing any news about a guy’s head getting blown off would have a good effect on Noriko’s recovery.

“I see…” Noriko said quietly and then added, “Thanks for this,” and began taking off the coat she’d been wearing.

“Keep it.”

“No, I’m all right now.”

Shuya took the coat and draped the blanket over her shoulder again.

Shogo came in after a while. Like a waiter, he carried a round tray full of bowls on one hand. Steam rose from the bowls. As he lowered the tray he said, “Here you are, madame.”

Shuya chuckled. “So she gets room service?”

“Well, the food isn’t exactly first class. I hope it tastes all right though.” Shogo put the entire tray on the bed and placed the bowls next to her.

Noriko looked down and asked, “Soup?”

“Yes ma’am,” Shogo replied in English, which sounded pretty fluent to Shuya’s ears.

“Thanks,” Noriko said and took the spoon. She brought the bowl to her lips and swallowed a mouthful. “It’s delicious.” She raised her voice. “There’s egg in it.”

Shuya then looked at Shogo. “It’s our special, ma’am.”

“Where’d you find that?” Shuya asked. All the fresh food in the refrigerator was rotten, probably because the government had moved the civilians out a while ago. All the other houses were probably in the same condition.

Shogo looked at Shuya out of the corner of his eye and grinned. “I found a house that kept a hen. It looked like it hadn’t been fed in a while and looked pretty weak.”

Shuya exaggeratedly shook his head. “When we ate I didn’t notice any eggs.”

Shogo lifted his brows. “I only found one. Sorry. I’m nicer to girls. That’s just how I am.”

Shuya laughed, sniggering.

Shogo returned to the kitchen and brought over some tea. Shuya and Shogo drank tea while Noriko ate her meal. The tea had a mild sweetness and a pleasant, nostalgic odor.

“Damn,” Shuya groaned. “I feel like everything’s fine, the three of us sitting around like this.”

Shogo smiled and said, “I’ll make some coffee later. Would you prefer tea, Noriko?”

Her spoon still in her mouth, Noriko smiled and nodded.

“Hey, Shogo.” Shuya had more to say. Of course the fact was that they were still in this killing game, but now that Noriko seemed to be recovering, he was feeling a little gushy. “Some day the three of us, let’s all get together for some tea. We’ll sit on the veranda and enjoy the cherry blossoms.”

It was highly unlikely. Nonetheless Shogo shrugged his shoulders and said, “I thought you were a rocker. You sound like an old man.”

“I know. You’re not the first one to tell me that.”

Shogo chuckled. Shuya laughed, and so did Noriko.

Noriko finished her meal and said, “Thank you.” Shogo gathered her bowls. He signaled with his other hand for Shuya’s cup, which Shuya handed over.

“Shogo,” Noriko said, “I feel totally fine now. Thank you so much. And I’m so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused.”

Shogo smiled and replied, “You’re welcome,” in English. “But it looks like the antibiotic wasn’t necessary.”

“No. I know this sounds weird, but I think it made me feel secure enough to fall asleep.”

Shogo smiled again and added, “Well, you could still be suffering from septicemia. In any case, you should rest a little more. Take it easy.” Shogo then said to Shuya, “Do you mind if I catch some sleep?”

Shuya nodded. “You tired?”

“No, not really, but it’s best to sleep when you can. Once we leave here, I’ll stay up through the night. Is that all right?”

“Yeah sure, that’s fine.”

Shogo nodded, took the tray, and headed towards the hall.

“Shogo, you should sleep here,” Noriko said, signaling towards the bed next to hers.

Shogo glanced back at her from the door and smiled as if saying, no thank you. “I don’t want to intrude on you two. I’ll sleep on the sofa in this room.” He tilted his head in that direction and added, “Please be considerate to your neighbors though if you get intimate.”

In the dim room Shuya could see Noriko’s face flush.

Shogo then left the room. Beyond the half opened door, Shuya heard him walk out of the kitchen and into the waiting room. It became quiet.

Noriko broke into a smile and said, “Shogo’s so funny.”

Perhaps it was because of the meal, her face seemed more animated.

“Yeah, he is,” Shuya smiled too. “I’d never talked to him until now, but he kind of reminds me of Shinji.”

They didn’t resemble each other at all physically, but Shogo’s crude and blunt speech and his ability to still be humorous through it all resembled The Third Man. Not to mention the way he was the anti-model student and yet managed to be incredibly smart and reliable.

Noriko nodded. “You know you’re right. Totally.” Then Noriko uttered, “I wonder where Shinji is.”

Shuya took a deep breath. He’d been wondering whether there was any way to contact him, but given Noriko’s condition he couldn’t afford to do anything.

“Yeah, if he were only with us…”

With Shinji along and with Shogo on their side, Shuya thought they couldn’t be defeated. And if Hiroki Sugimura were with them they would be fearless and invincible.

“I still remember the class match,” Noriko said as she glanced up at the ceiling. “Not this year’s, but last year’s. The finals. Shinji was on his own against Class D, who had four students on the basketball team. We were thirty points behind, but then you rushed over after your softball game, and together you two guys started an incredible comeback.”

“Yeah.” Shuya nodded. He noticed how Noriko was becoming talkative. That was a good sign. “I guess that’s what happened.”

“I was cheering you guys on. When we won Yukie was on her feet shrieking.”

“Yeah.”

Shuya remembered too. Because Noriko, who was always reserved, was cheering the loudest. And although he wasn’t as uncoordinated as Yoshio Akamatsu, the unathletic Yoshitoki Kuninobu was standing apart from Noriko and the others. Shuya saw Yoshitoki, his hands waving and making devil signs. It was a humble gesture, but Yoshitoki’s display of support moved Shuya more than Noriko and the other girls’ screaming rally.

Yoshitoki…

Shuya gazed back at Noriko, and then realized that Noriko was crying. He reached over to Noriko, touching her shoulder, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Uh,” Noriko hiccuped slightly. “I was telling myself not to cry, but… then I was thinking how wonderful our class was…”

Shuya nodded. It might have been from the still lingering fever, or it might have been from the drugs, but Noriko seemed to be in an emotional state. He kept his hand on her shoulder until she stopped crying.

Eventually Noriko said, “I’m sorry,” and wiped her eyes. Then she said, “I didn’t tell you because it might end up disturbing you.”

“What do you mean?”

Noriko looked into Shuya’s eyes. “Did you know a lot of girls have a crush on you?”

The topic of conversation was so unexpected Shuya couldn’t help grimacing. “What are you talking about?”

But Noriko continued, her face dead serious. “Megumi… and Yukiko too, I think.”

Shuya tilted his head as if puzzled. Megumi Eto and Yukiko Kitano. Two of the players no longer in the running in this game.

“Those…” Was it proper to call them “those”? “What about those two?”

Noriko looked up at Shuya and said quietly, “They both had a crush on you.”

Shuya’s face stiffened. He hesitated and then mumbled, “Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Noriko looked away from Shuya and nodded. “It’s easy to tell with girls. I just… wanted you to have fond thoughts for them.” She added, “I am in no position to be telling you this now, given the situation I’m in.”

Shuya had a dim image of the faces of Megumi Eto and Yukiko Kitano. Just a little though. Like, two teaspoons each. “Wow.” He exhaled. Then he said, “I wish you’d told me after we escaped.”

“I’m sorry. Did it shock you?”

“Yeah, a little.”

Noriko tilted her head again, “But I thought you should know in case I die.”

Shuya looked up. His right hand squeezed her left wrist. “Look, please don’t assume that. We’re in this together till the end. We’re going to survive together.”

Noriko was taken aback by Shuya’s sudden intensity. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“I actually know someone who’s got a crush on you.”

Now it was Noriko’s turn to open her eyes wide. “Really? Why me?” She said this innocently, but the expression on her face vanished quickly. Shuya saw the fading light from the window reflected as an obscure rectangle in her pupils. She asked, “Is he a classmate?”

Shuya slowly shook his head. As he recalled those warm eyes, he thought, damn, how nice and peaceful it would have been just to be able to get worried over a romantic triangle involving a longtime friend. But that would never happen. No siree. It just won’t.

“No.”

Noriko looked somewhat relieved as she looked down at the knees of her skirt and only mumbled, “I see.” Then she looked up and said, “So who could it be? I wasn’t in any clubs or teams. And I don’t have friends in any of the other classes.”

Shuya shook his head. “I’m not telling. I’ll tell you once we’re out of here.”

Noriko looked slightly skeptical, but didn’t pursue the matter.

After they fell silent for a while Shuya looked up at the ceiling. Even though tidiness was mandatory in a clinic, the fluorescent light hanging here had dusty covers. The lights didn’t work. They couldn’t turn them on anyway even if they did.

“Megumi-san—” he said. He added the polite “san” to her name. Boys can be so fickle, “…and Yukiko-san. If it’s true… what could they have possibly liked about me?”

It was becoming pitch black, but Noriko appeared to be smiling a little. “You mind if I share my opinion?”

“Sure.”

Noriko tilted her head. “Everything about you.”

Shuya chuckled and shook his head, “What do you mean?”

“That’s what it means to love someone.” Noriko’s suddenly sounded serious. “Isn’t that how you feel about that girl?”

Shuya thought of Kazumi Shintani’s face. He thought about it. He hesitated, but thought he should be honest. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“If it’s not, then it’s not real,” Noriko said as if she were amused and then let out a quiet laugh.

“What?”

“I’m jealous. Even in this situation, it’s still hard.”

Shuya looked at her face—it was no longer discernible in the dark—and hesitated whether he should tell her, but then decided he should be honest with her.

“I can relate to the guy who had a crush on you though.”

Noriko looked up at Shuya. Her well-defined brows seemed to quiver slightly. Her lips seemed to be forming a slightly melancholic smile.

“You’re so wonderful,” Shuya said.

“That’s nice to hear even if it’s not true.”

“But it is.”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

Shuya opened his eyes wide as if asking, “What is it?” but he wasn’t sure whether Noriko could see his reaction. Noriko then leaned over slightly and gently put both of her hands on Shuya’s upper arms, putting her head against his shoulder. Her shoulder-length short hair brushed up against Shuya’s cheeks and ears.

They remained like this for quite some time until the dimness outside the window turned into moonlight.

46

Before the dusk turned to darkness, Hirono Shimizu (Female Student No. 10) emerged from the thicket she’d been hiding in and proceeded west. It was unbearable. Her body was on fire as if she were walking in a desert under a burning sun.

Water.

She needed water.

Kaori Minami had shot her in the upper left arm. After tearing open the sleeve of her sailor suit drenched in blood, she discovered the bullet had penetrated her arm. The skin on the exit wound was torn up

badly. It seemed the bullet had barely missed the major blood vessels. The torn sleeve she wrapped around her arm as a bandage seemed to have stopped the bleeding for a while. But then… the wound started to burn and the sensation spread all over her body. The initial chill was replaced by a numbing heat. By the time Sakamochi made his announcement at 6 p.m. Hirono had finished off her entire supply of water. After she killed Kaori she ran approximately two hundred meters away from Shuya and hid in the thicket, but she ended up using a lot of water in her attempt to clean her wound (which she ended up deeply regretting).

Almost two hours had passed since then. For a while she’d been sweating profusely underneath her uniform, but now she wasn’t sweating at all. Most likely she was approaching dehydration. In other words, unlike Noriko Nakagawa, Hirono was actually suffering from septicemia. And because she hadn’t disinfected her wound, it came on quickly. Of course she had no way of knowing any of this.

The only thing she knew was that she needed water.

As she cautiously moved through the green woods of the mountain, Hirono’s head spun with thoughts of hatred towards Kaori Minami. Her burning body and thirst only intensified these thoughts.

Hirono Shimizu had no intention of trusting anyone in this game. Of course she’d been tight with Mitsuko Souma forever, and according to student number she immediately preceded Mitsuko. So if she’d managed to avoid Hiroki Sugimura, who came in between their departures, she could have met up with Mitsuko, but she chose not to. Because she knew how terrifying Mitsuko really was. Like when Mitsuko took on a bad-girl leader from another school (who’d by then become the mistress of a yakuza gangster). That girl ended up getting run over by a car. The injury was nearly fatal. Mitsuko didn’t say anything about it, but Hirono knew Mitsuko had some guy do it. There were plenty of guys willing to do anything for Mitsuko.

If Hirono had decided to meet up with Mitsuko, Mitsuko would have probably used her as much as possible only to finally shoot her in the back. Even though she was part of the group too, the somewhat clueless Yoshimi Yahagi might trust Mitsuko (which reminded her of how Yoshimi was dead, and Hirono had a hunch that Mitsuko was the one who killed her), but Hirono was having none of that.

She couldn’t imagine trusting anyone else in her class. The ones who acted nice were the ones that wouldn’t think twice about killing the others now. She might have only been fifteen years old, but those fifteen years had taught her that much.

At the same time though she wasn’t too thrilled about killing off her classmates. She’d done prostitution and drugs, and she constantly fought with her parents who treated her like a lost cause, but murder was taboo. Of course the rules of the game permitted it, so it wasn’t a crime here—but while she’d done some bad things, they were never all that harmful towards others. Even though she’d prostituted herself, compared to other girls who pretended to be proper at the same time that they “phone-dated” (she knew Mayumi Tendo was one of those), at least she went the whole nine yards working with professionals through her connection with Mitsuko Souma. As for drugs, what was wrong with asserting her individual freedom to choose? And it wasn’t like she was putting the mall’s cosmetics department out of business by stealing stuff from there. They have huge capital backing anyway. Yes, she bullied others around, but they deserved it. And as far as her fights with students from other schools, they all knew they were out to hurt each other and what they were in for. I mean, come on, grow up. In any case, she was not the kind of girl who’d go around murdering people. She knew that much.

But, but…

…it was different if she had to defend herself. And if she ended up surviving in this game, then she’d open a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Or if time ran out and she died—her thoughts weren’t very clear on this matter. Anyway there was nothing she could do about that.

So she ended up hiding out in that house where she later had that shootout with Kaori Minami.

Once she’d checked it out and saw no one was there, she stayed there. Occasionally she’d look out the window, and once, much to her dismay, she caught a glimpse of someone in the shack across from the building where she was staying.

After several minutes she decided to leave the house (she was good at leaving home). She couldn’t stand the thought of someone being near her. There was no back entrance, so she climbed out the window furthest from the shack when it happened.

Kaori was looking out the door of the shack. She suddenly fired at Hirono, who’d done nothing. Kaori’s shot hit Hirono’s arm, and Hirono nearly rolled outside onto the ground. She somehow managed to get on her feet, and for the first time aimed her pistol and fired back. Then as she remained glued to the wall of the edge of the house. That was when Shuya Nanahara appeared.

That bitch. She was always acting so innocent with her blind devotion to idol groups, and then all of a sudden she has the nerve to pull the trigger on me. Well, I was able to finish her off. (In self defense. The jury’s verdict would have been 12-0, no prob.) And if the others are anything like her then I’ll have to be merciless, I think.

Then Hirono thought of Shuya Nanahara. At least Shuya didn’t point his gun at her—which enabled her to shoot at Kaori. He also claimed he was with Noriko.

Shuya Nanahara and Noriko Nakagawa. Were they going out? Never seemed that way. Are they going to try to escape?

Hirono automatically shook her head.

Ridiculous. Nothing could be more risky than being with someone under these circumstances. If you’re in a group, well then, that’s just your own fault if you get shot in the back. Besides, it was impossible to escape anyway.

Hirono didn’t see Noriko Nakagawa, but if he was telling her the truth, then Shuya Nanahara would soon be killing Noriko Nakagawa. Or perhaps Noriko Nakagawa would be killing Shuya Nanahara. If one of them ended up surviving then Hirono might end up having to kill one of them. But right now that didn’t matter compared to her only real desire.

Water.

Before she knew it she had covered a fair distance. The dim sunlight in the western sky was gone. The sky up above was now jet black and the full moon just like last night when the game began shone eerily, casting a pale blue light on this island.

She held onto the revolver that had killed Kaori Minami, a Smith & Wesson Military & Police .38, and ran through the bushes. She held her head low with bated breath. Then she slowly peered out of the bushes. There was a house standing beyond a narrow farm. Hirono was near the northern mountain. There was a foothill on the other side of the house. On the left there were several farms and further beyond two more similar houses. Then the land sloped upward to the southern mountain. According to the map, in front of that mountain there was supposed to be a relatively wide longitudinal road that traversed the island. So given the position of the mountains Hirono was probably near the island’s western shore. Just as she had done before moving, she checked her position and was pretty certain she wasn’t in a forbidden zone.

Hirono did her best to forget about her thirst and observed the house in front. The area was completely still and silent.

She remained crouched and crossed the farm. The area around the house seemed slightly elevated above the farm. Hirono stopped at the edge of the farm and after looking back she observed the house again. It was your average, old, single-story farmhouse. But unlike the previous house she’d hid inside, the roof was tiled. An unpaved road came in from the left side of the farm. There was a light truck parked in front of the house. She also saw a moped and bicycle.

The water at the first house Hirono hid in wasn’t running. This one was probably no different. Hirono looked to her right and left and found a well at the far end of the area from the entrance road. It even had a beam holding a bucket. There were thin tangerine trees with plenty of leaves surrounding the well. Their branches were high, so she could tell there was no one hiding under the trees.

Since she couldn’t use her left hand, she tucked her gun in the front. Then she groped around the farm soil under the moonlight. She found a fist-sized rock.

She tossed it upward. Tracing an arc, the rock crashed against the roof. It rattled down the rows of tiles and fell off the edge onto the ground with a thud.

Hirono gripped the gun and waited. She checked her watch. Then she waited again.

Five minutes passed. No one appeared at the windows or entrance. Hirono quickly stepped up to the property and ran toward the well. Her head was spinning from thirst and fever.

The well was a concrete tube approximately eighty centimeters high. Hirono clutched the brim of the well.

Inside it, the moonlight revealed a small circle six to seven meters down. Her own shadow was also reflected inside the circle. It was water.

Ah, it wasn’t dry.

Once again Hirono tucked her revolver into her skirt and removed her day pack from her aching left shoulder with her right hand. It landed on the dirt. Then she held the worn out rope hanging from the bucket beam.

As she pulled the rope, a small bucket appeared on the surface of the water. Hirono frantically tugged at the rope. The bucket beam was equipped with what looked like an ancient pulley which allowed you to retrieve water with two buckets. Her left arm was too numb to move, but with every pull she held the rope against the concrete edge of the well with her elbow and managed to pull the bucket upward.

The bucket finally reached the edge of the well. She held the rope with her elbow once more, grabbed the handle of the bucket, and placed it on the edge of the well. It was water. The bucket was brimming with water. She didn’t care if it ended up making her sick. Her body needed water now.

But then she discovered something and let out a small shriek.

There was a tiny fingernail-sized frog swimming in the water. In the moonlight she saw its small, gross eyes and its glistening back. (In broad daylight, their color would have been an disgusting fluorescent green, or a dirty brown.) It was her least favorite animal, and the mere sight of one with its slimy skin was enough to send chills down her spine.

Hirono did her best to quell her disgust. She didn’t have the strength to pull the bucket up again. Her thirst was unbearable now. She would have to get rid of that frog, and then—

The frog climbed onto the edge of the bucket and leapt onto Hirono. Hirono let out a small shriek and twisted her body. So what if this was a matter of life or death. She just couldn’t stand frogs. She somehow managed to dodge the frog—but her right hand let go of the bucket, which suddenly fell back into the well with a splash—and that was that.

Hirono groaned and looked over in the direction of the frog. I’ll kill it. I’ll kill that fucking frog!

Then something else caught her eye.

She saw a black figure in a student coat stop a mere four or five meters in front of her.

Hirono’s back had been facing the house. Now she saw the back door behind the figure was ajar.

With the figure frozen in its footsteps, Hirono suddenly recalled a childhood memory—the game where you have to freeze when the person who was “it” turns around—but that was irrelevant. The issue at stake was that this thin, short, ugly boy—come to think of it, he also resembled a frog—Toshinori Oda (Male Student No. 4) was holding a thin, ribbonlike object with both hands. Hirono realized it was a belt.

Now look at this. Toshinori Oda, the privileged son of a company president whose house was located in the town’s wealthy district. He was supposed to be good at violin (apparently he’d won some competition). A pretentious, well bred, quiet boy. And this kid was now…

…trying to kill me!

As if the pause on a frozen video image had been suddenly released, Toshinori moved, swung his belt up, and attacked her. The large buckle sparkled in the moonlight. It could easily gouge out some flesh on impact. The distance between them was only four meters.

Enough.

Hirono’s right hand went for her gun. She felt the grip, by now a familiar sensation.

Toshinori was right in front of her. She fired. She fired three times in a row.

All the shots landed in his stomach. She saw his school coat instantaneously rip apart.

Toshinori spun around and fell face forward. Dust flew up into the air and he remained motionless.

Hirono tucked the revolver into her skirt again. The hot barrel burned against her stomach, but she couldn’t be concerned about that. Right now the important thing was water.

She picked up her day pack and entered the house. She’d been foolish exposing her back to the house, but now she no longer had to make sure it was unoccupied. And she could drink Toshinori’s water.

She deliberated over whether to use her flashlight, but Toshinori’s day pack turned out to be located right behind the back door. Hirono crouched down and opened the zipper with her right hand.

There were water bottles. One of them hadn’t been opened and the other was still half full. She felt a wave of relief.

Still on her knees, Hirono opened the lid of the half filled bottle and pressed her lips against it, sucking on it as she tilted the bottle back. Hmm. Was this an indirect kiss with the boy who had tried to kill her—who was, on top of that, dead? Didn’t matter. Concerns like that were now as remote as the tropics or the north pole. Or the moon. This is Armstrong. One small step for a man…

She guzzled the water down. It was delicious. No doubt about that. Water never tasted this good. Even though the water was lukewarm, as it gushed down her throat and into her stomach it felt like ice water. It was so good.

She emptied the bottle almost immediately. She took a deep breath.

Something wrapped around her throat. Right above the metal collar. She went into a coughing fit and a mist of water sprayed out between her lips.

As she struggled with her functioning right hand to free herself from the object digging in under her throat, she twisted her head around. Immediately to the right of her face she saw the boy’s tense face… which belonged to Toshinori Oda, the boy who just died!

Her throat was getting choked. It took her several seconds to realize what was wrapped around her neck. It was Toshinori’s belt.

How how how how could this guy be alive?

The dark interior of the house was fading into red. She tried to pry the belt loose with her right hand as her fingernails tore off. Blood dripped out of her fingers.

That’s right, my gun.

Hirono reached for her gun tucked in the front of her skirt.

But her arm was kicked by the foot of an expensive leather shoe, making a cracking sound. Along with her left arm, her right one went numb too. The belt slackened for a moment—but then it tightened again. She couldn’t hold the belt anymore and instead she swung her twisted arm around in a bizarre looking manner.

It was only a matter of seconds. Her arm hung limply. Although she wasn’t in the same rank as Takako Chigusa or Mitsuko Souma, she was still quite attractive and she had the appealing, mature look of a high school or college student. But now her face was puffed up from blood congestion, and her tongue was now twice its normal size and hung out from the middle of her mouth.

Nonetheless, Toshinori Oda continued choking Hirono’s throat. (Of course he didn’t forget to check around occasionally.)

After five minutes or so, Toshinori finally released the belt from Hirono’s neck. The breathless Hirono fell forward onto the raised floor. There was a muffled cracking sound. Maybe part of Hirono’s face had cracked. Her punkish hair that stood straight up was now going in all directions and fading into the darkness. The nape of her neck above the collar of her sailor suit and her left arm with the torn sleeve were the only parts glimmering white.

Toshinori Oda breathed heavily for a while as he stood still in a daze. His stomach was still in pain, but it wasn’t too bad now. When he first opened his day pack he had no idea what this cumbersome strange gray vest was, but it did exactly what the manual said it would. Amazing what a bulletproof vest can do.

47

The area was pitch black by now, but thanks to the nearly full moon, the cliff extending from the foot of the northern mountain offered a wide open view of the ocean. The Seto Inland Sea Islands floated in the black sea, but there were absolutely no ship lights nearby due to the governments prohibition on traffic in the area. The guard ships were also out of sight, probably because they were moored with their lights off.

He’d seen this view before, but from a lower position, when he left the school building. Of course, this was neither the time nor place to call it a nice view.

“All right then, over here,” Shinji said. He tucked his gun into his belt, and was the first to climb up on the rock. Then he offered his hand to Yutaka. Yutaka was out of breath due to the climb up the mountain as well as from the looming threat of being attacked in the dark, but he managed to grip onto Shinji’s hand and struggled up the rock.

They stayed flat on their stomachs and looked down the cliff.

The blackened rows of woods spread out beneath them, and further beyond there was a glimmer of light. It came from the school building where Sakamochi was. It hardly emitted any light because the windows had been sealed off with those steel sheets. It was approximately one hundred meters away. The school’s sector, G-7, was already forbidden, so they’d immediately get killed if they entered it, but they were a safe distance away now. By using cross-bearing navigation with his compass and map before the sun went down, Shinji managed to figure out precisely the zone layout. The school, in sector G-7, was nearer the border of F-7, where Shinji and Yutaka were now, and according to the map the shortest distance to the border was approximately eighty meters. Furthermore, with the 6 p.m. announcement of forbidden zones, neither F-7 nor H-7, which surrounded the school, were included.

This reminded him of Sakamochi’s announcement that Sho Tsukioka had gotten caught in a forbidden zone. He was an annoying, queer kid (“Shinji, let’s go out on a date”), and right now Shinji really couldn’t be bothered by others, but he felt a little sorry for Sho whose head had probably been blown off by a bomb. He wondered where it happened.

He also felt a pang of remorse over the death of Takako Chigusa. She was the prettiest girl in the class (according to Shinji’s taste, anyway), and what’s more, she was childhood friends with Hiroki Sugimura. Contrary to what most of the class thought—that they were a couple—Hiroki and Takako weren’t going out (Hiroki himself told Shinji). Still, it must have come as a shock to Hiroki.

Hiroki—where the hell are you?

Shinji decided to concentrate on the present. He observed the school below and its surrounding geography closely. They would have to stretch a rope from here, over the school, and then over to the other side of the zone. Now that he actually had a view of the area, he realized how much distance they’d have to cover.

Gazing at the gentle light leaking out the steel-plated windows, Shinji thought, damn. That was where Sakamochi and his men were. It was dinner time. For all he knew they could be eating fried udon. (He thought of fried udon because it was his favorite ever since his uncle made it several times for him when he had him over at his small single-bedroom house and that was what Shinji wanted so badly to eat right now.) Bastards.

Shinji and Yutaka already had what they needed.

Although it wasn’t indicated on the map (which marked it as just another blue dot), Shinji managed to find a farm coop near the longitudinal road slightly south of the school. The building with slated roof and walls bore a sign that read “Northern Takamatsu Agricultural Cooperative Association, Okishima Island Branch.” (Although Shinji already knew they were on Okishima Island in the Takamatsu-shi Sound, Yutaka was impressed.) It wasn’t your typical farm coop. It had no real office, nor were there any ATMs. There was only a tractor, combine harvester, and threshing machine scattered inside the warehouse-like space. The only other equipment they found was an office desk taking up one of the corners. Anyway, that was where they found the ammonium nitrate. Fortunately it was fresh, not at all damp. On top of that, they didn’t have to collect gas from cars. They found plenty in the gas containers.

The pulley they took from the well next to the house where Shinji had found the Macintosh PowerBook 150, slightly east of the coop.

The other significant item was rope. If they were going to stretch rope across sector G-7 they would need at least three hundred meters of it. Furthermore, they would have to roll it out with plenty of slack to escape detection by Sakamochi and his men so they needed even more. It wasn’t going to be easy finding rope that long. The farm coop had rope but all together it was at most two hundred meters long and—maybe it was used for a greenhouse or something—too thin at a diameter of less than three millimeters to be reliable.

Fortunately though, they managed to find what appeared to be a private fishing-equipment warehouse along the shore south from the harbor, which was now forbidden along with the residential area. In spite of the fishing rope being weathered out from exposure, in spite of its heavy weight and size, given how it was over three hundred meters long, Shinji and Yutaka managed to divide it up, transport it, and hide it in the farm coop.

Leaving these resources behind, they came up here.

Shinji stared into the dark. The foot of the northern mountain, where they were now, spread out around this side of the school, in other words, the north side, and his right, the west side. To the left of the school, the woods on the east extended up to the northern side of the residential area and the seashore. Beyond the school there were paddy fields. There were clusters of trees here and there, and between them he could see some houses. Beyond the houses, Shinji could barely make out the farm coop warehouse where they had left all their equipment. Immediately to the left the area became gradually crowded with rows of roofs that extended over the border of the forbidden zone into the residential area.

Yutaka tapped him on the shoulder. Shinji looked to Yutaka, who was on his right. Yutaka pulled out his student notepad and began writing something.

Before they started moving, Shinji had warned Yutaka with another message that they mustn’t give anything away by talking. After all, if Sakamochi and his men found out they were up to no good again, this time Shinji was sure they wouldn’t hesitate to blow their heads off by remote control.

He’d already gone over why Sakamochi chose not to ignite Shinji and Yutaka’s collars. It was probably because it was best for the game if the students fought each other as much as possible. Shinji had some theories about this. It had to do with a rumor he’d heard that high-ranking government officials placed bets on this game. If that was true, then he was sure the star shooting guard of Shiroiwa Junior High, The Third Man, must have been the top seed. All the more reason why Sakamochi couldn’t just finish him off. That was Shinji’s hypothesis. Meanwhile Yoshitoki Kuninobu and Fumiyo Fujiyoshi were irrelevant players. Or, to be blunt, no one had placed any bets on them.

Still, even if that were true (what a bastard that “Kinpati Sakamocho” was), as long as Sakamochi was in charge of this game, he could blow their heads off at any time. Shinji could only pray that wouldn’t happen until they managed to bomb the school. Of course Shinji found the idea despicable. The thought of someone else having so much control over him was entirely revolting to Shinji, who learned from his uncle how to be totally self-reliant for everything in his life.

As he looked down at the light from the school though, he shook his head. That was neither here nor there.

He recalled his uncle once telling him, “Don’t worry about stuff you can’t do anything about. You do what you can even if your chances of success are less than one percent.”

Yutaka seemed done writing his message and tapped his shoulder. Shinji turned away from the view and examined the note under the moonlight.

There’s no way we can toss that enormous rope over there. Besides we left the rope behind. What are we going to do?

He hadn’t explained that yet. They’d been too frantic in their search for the equipment. Shinji nodded, took out his pencil, and wrote on the student notepad, Wire. I brought some. We’ll reel out the wire down to the other side and tie it to the rope. Then we’ll draw in the rope by pulling the wire right before we execute our plan.

He handed the pad over to Yutaka. After reading the note, he looked at Shinji and nodded, as if satisfied. Then he wrote, You’re going to tie a rock to the wire and throw it over there?

Shinji shook his head. Yutaka opened his eyes, surprised. Then after some thought he wrote again, Are you going to make a bow and arrow and shoot the wire across?

Shinji shook his head again. He took the pad and began scribbling, That might work. But even I can’t throw a rock 300m away. And I can’t afford to miss. If the rock hits the school we’re done. And if the wire gets caught somewhere and we end up breaking it… I have a better plan.

Yutaka didn’t take up his pencil this time and only gazed back at Shinji as if saying, “?” Shinji took the pad and continued, First, tie the wire to a tree here. Then go down the mountain with the other end of wire. Stretch it taut when we’re on the other side.

Yutaka read this but then almost immediately gave Shinji a skeptical look. He wrote quickly, You can’t do that his note read It’ll get caught in the trees. Somewhere in the middle.

Shinji grinned.

He couldn’t blame Yutaka for doubting him. The path they’d taken here was covered with trees, both large and small. Even if they managed to drag the wire out while avoiding G-7 and tugged on it later, the wire might get caught. It would make for an odd-looking piece of outdoor contemporary art. “This installation piece is gigantic, but five meters away it turns obscure. The piece addresses the delicate balance between nature and human postmodern industrialism…”

On top of that, sector G-7 was filled with dense forestry bordering up to the school. Unless you were a 100-meter-tall giant—and wasn’t there a video his uncle had shown him, an old special-effects movie where the superhero saves the world by fighting against monsters as they completely tear up the city? They don’t make movies like that anymore—you’d have to cut down all the trees if you wanted to put the wire near the school. It was so obvious. And that was why Yutaka insisted it was impossible.

But Shinji elegantly spread his arms out (given how they were on their stomachs though, the effect wasn’t so impressive) and wrote, How about launching an ad balloon, huh, Yutaka’?

Yutaka read the note and knit his brows. Shinji signaled Yutaka to get off the cliff rock and follow him. Once they sat under the rock, he rummaged through his day pack. He pulled out the contents and lined them up on the ground.

A half dozen gas canisters, several hundred-meter reels of thin fishing wire (that was all he found at the farm coop), plastic tape, and a box of black plastic garbage bags.

Shinji took one of the canisters and showed it to Yutaka. It was painted blue with bright red letters which read “VOICE CHANGER” (underneath the ad copy read, “Now you’ll be the life of the party!” huh!), and under that there was an illustration of a duck—Shinji recognized where it came from—based on a Walt Disney character. A whistlelike object poked out of the canister.

Shinji wrote, I remembered seeing these at the house where I found the PowerBook. You know what this is?

Before taking the pulley, Shinji had gone into the nearby house to retrieve these canisters. What in the world would the occupant of that house do with all these things, though? The files left on the PowerBook’s hard drive offered a clue. Given how they had names like “5th Grade Science” or “Third Term Report Card Drafts,” the owner of the machine must have been an elementary school teacher. Yes, he was probably one of the real teachers at that school.

Yutaka touched his throat and opened his mouth. Shinji nodded.

Right. It makes you sound like a duck! It’s helium. And this one’s a defect. So it’s still loaded with gas.

Yutaka still seemed unconvinced. Shinji thought an actual demonstration would get his point across quicker so he tore open the pack of garbage bags and pulled out a bag. He opened it up, inserted the canister valve (which was supposed to be sucked) into it, and taped it to the bag with the plastic tape. He sealed the edge of the bag with more tape. Then he pressed the valve button and the bag began to inflate.

With his finger on the button, Shinji thought, this would be a lot more entertaining with condoms. But even if they had condoms they would have been a little too small. Huh? Do I have some on me? Well, I mean, come on, this was supposed to be a study trip. Anything can happen, right? You tossed your clothes, but you’re still holding onto these? Yeah, I dunno, I do still have them. Well, you never know when they might come in handy. Let’s not go into details.

After filling up the bag, Shinji twisted the edge right above the canister and sealed it with tape. He took a reel of fishing wire and tied its end to the end of the bag. Then he removed the tape below to release it from the canister. Just to be sure, he folded the edge over again, sealing it again with more tape.

The garbage bag floated upward. It rose until the wire was taut to the point where it almost seemed to lift the reel—but it stopped right at Shinji and Yutaka’s heads.

“See?” Shinji said out loud. Yutaka had probably realized what was going on while Shinji was working on the canister. He’d already nodded several times.

Shinji tied another piece of wire from another reel to the wire stretching under the balloon. Just to be sure, he secured this to the balloon with tape. With the pair of wires in both of his hands, he moved the balloon as if it were walking on a pair of legs. Then he pointed to a nearby tree. He moved the string. Yes, in other words, these were the legs of the giant. They were too frail to crush a city and right now they’re shorter than me, but…

Yutaka seemed to understand completely. He gave two huge nods. Then he moved his lips without saying anything. It looked like he was saying, “Awesome, Shinji.” Or maybe it was, “Enough already.” Whatever, it didn’t matter.

Shinji took the memo pad and wrote, We make one or two more balloons and attach them to each other. But I still don’t know how far up the wire can be stretched. There’s also the wind. Let’s just go for it.

Yutaka read this and nodded.

Shinji glanced up at the sky. The bags were black, so even under the moon, Sakamochi and his men wouldn’t see them. Right now there wasn’t much wind either. But he had no idea what it was like further up there in the sky.

Then he said, “Let’s hurry.”

Shinji signaled Yutaka to hold onto the first balloon and proceeded to pull out another garbage bag.

48

Shogo rose a little after 10 p.m.

Shuya had been looking after Noriko, who remained resting in bed. Shuya groped through the nearly pitch black room and entered the waiting room.

“I’ll make some coffee,” Shogo said as he looked up at Shuya. Then he walked down the hall. He seemed to have good night vision.

Shuya returned to the beds, where he found Noriko up without her blanket.

“You should rest a little more,” Shuya said.

Noriko nodded, “Uh huh…” Then she mumbled, “Could you ask Shogo if he’s going to boil some more water if I can get an extra cup?” Noriko was sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands by her thighs. Moonlight spilled in over the curtain from the window. She kept her chin tucked in as she looked over to her side.

“Sure but what for?”

Noriko hesitated and then answered, “I sweated so much, I just wanted to wipe my body. Maybe it’s too much to ask for.”

“Oh no,” Shuya replied and quickly nodded. “No prob. I’ll go tell him.” He left the room.

Shogo was boiling water in the dark kitchen. The tip of the cigarette between his mouth glowed red, and the charcoal flame under the pot resembled a strange firefly stirring to life.

“Shogo,” Shuya said. Shogo turned around. The afterimage of his cigarette traced a thick line before vanishing. “Noriko was wondering if she could have some hot water. She said one cup was enough—”

“Ah.” Shogo didn’t let him continue. He removed his cigarette from his mouth. Shuya could see Shogo was smiling in the dim moonlight coming through the window. “Sure. A cup or an entire bucket, fine with me.”

As he moved he scooped up water with the bowl from the bucket and added it to the pot. He repeated this five times. He kept a low charcoal flame going to keep the water in the pot boiling. Shuya felt some steam drift by.

“She’s a girl,” Shogo said.

It turned out Shogo wasn’t as slow as Shuya was. He knew why Noriko asked for hot water.

Shuya was silent and Shogo unexpectedly continued on his own.

“She wants to stay pretty cause she’s with you.”

Then he exhaled some smoke.

Shuya remained quiet, but then asked, “Can I help you?”

“No.” Shogo seemed to be shaking his head. Squinting his eyes, Shuya could see three cups and a coffee dripper already loaded with a filter on the table. There was also a tea bag for Noriko.

“Hey,” Shogo called him.

Shuya lifted his brow, “What is it? All of a sudden you’re so chatty.”

Shogo chuckled. “I understand how you feel about Yoshitoki, but don’t forget about Noriko’s feelings.”

Shuya fell silent again. The he spoke. For some reason, there was a hint of dissatisfaction in his tone of voice. “I know.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Shogo proceeded to ask.

Shuya shrugged. “Nope.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Shogo continued to look at the window, smoking his cigarette. “It’s not a bad thing to be loved.”

Shuya shrugged again. Then he asked, “Don’t you have someone?”

His cigarette glowed brightly. He didn’t say anything. The smoke drifted slowly through the dark. “A secret, huh?”

“No…” Shogo began to speak, but then he removed the cigarette from his mouth and tossed it into the bucket of water. “Get down, Shuya,” he whispered and crouched down.

Shuya nervously obeyed him. Was someone going to attack? He grew tense.

“Get Noriko. Be quiet though,” Shogo whispered again. Shuya was already on his way to the examination room, where Noriko was.

Noriko was still sitting in a daze on the edge of the bed. Shuya signaled her to duck down. She must have immediately understood because she got off the bed, holding her breath. Shuya offered her his hand for support as they moved to the kitchen. He looked over to the entrance on the way there, but there was no one beyond the glass door.

Shogo had already gathered their day packs which he’d packed with refilled water bottles and other items, and now he was on his knees by the back door, holding his shotgun.

“What is it?” Shuya asked in a hushed voice. Shogo lifted his left hand to silence him. Shuya didn’t say another word.

“Someone’s outside,” Shogo whispered. “We’ll exit through whichever door they don’t enter.”

The only thing visible in the dark was the bright charcoal flame under the pot. Given the location of the sink, it couldn’t be seen from outside.

Shuya heard a tapping sound. It came from the entrance. The door wouldn’t open because of the stick jamming it. The glass was broken, so the person outside must have realized that someone had entered the building and that it was probably still occupied.

There was a clacking sound, but then it stopped. It sounded like the person had given up.

Shogo groaned. “Damn, we’ll be in trouble if this one tries to set this place on fire.”

They remained quiet, but there was still no sound. Then Shogo signaled for them to move towards the entrance. He might have heard a slight sound.

They were nearly crawling down the hall.

As they made their way, Shogo, behind the other two, reached out to Shuya who was leading. They stopped. Shuya turned around and looked over his shoulder at Shogo.

“He’s circling back to the front.” He waved his hand to the back. “Let’s go out the back.”

So they went towards the kitchen down the hall.

Shogo stopped again before they entered the kitchen.

“Damn, why?” he muttered.

The person outside was now coming round to the back door again.

The silence continued. Shogo held onto his shotgun. With Noriko between him and Shogo, Shuya also gripped the SIG-Sauer that had once belonged to Kaori Minami. (He’d given the Smith & Wesson to Shogo. Shuya decided to hold onto the gun that had more bullets.)

But the silence was suddenly broken. A voice called from outside the kitchen window. “It’s Hiroki,” he said. “I’m not fighting. Respond, you three. Who are you?”

It was undoubtedly the voice of Hiroki Sugimura (Male Student No. 11), who along with Shinji Mimura was one of the few classmates Shuya could trust.

“What the—?” Shuya moaned. “That’s incredible…”

It was a stroke of luck. He never thought they’d see Hiroki. Shuya and Noriko looked at each other. Noriko looked relieved.

Shogo stopped Shuya as he tried to get up.

“What?”

“Shh. Don’t raise your voice.”

Shuya stared at Shogo’s serious expression and then responded with an exaggerated shrug and smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll vouch for him. We can totally trust him.”

Shogo shook his head and said, “How did he know there were three of us?”

That thought hadn’t occurred to Shuya. He thought it over while looking at Shogo. But he had no idea. That didn’t matter though. The important thing was that Hiroki was here. He just wanted to see Hiroki’s face now.

“Maybe he saw us go in here, from far away. That’s why he didn’t know who we were.”

“What took him so long to get here then?”

Shuya thought again. “He probably deliberated over whether he should find out who was here or not. In any case, we can trust Hiroki. I’ll vouch for him.”

Shuya ignored Shogo, who looked like he wasn’t satisfied. He raised his voice and directed it beyond the window. “It’s Shuya, Hiroki. I’m with Shogo Kawada and Noriko Nakagawa.”

“Shuya!…” a relieved voice replied. “Let me in. Where should I come in?”

Before Shuya could answer, Shogo raised his voice, “This is Shogo. Go to the front entrance. Keep your hands behind your head and do not move. Got that?”

“Shogo—” Shuya was about to protest, but Hiroki immediately responded, “Got it.” What looked like the upper body of Hiroki crossed the frosted glass window.

Shogo bent down to look out of the cracks in the glass. Holding onto his shotgun, he yanked out the obstructing stick and opened the door.

Hiroki Sugimura was standing with his hands behind his neck. He was slightly taller than Shogo, but more slender. His hair, wavy like Shuya’s, went down the middle of his forehead. His day pack was by his feet and for some reason there was a 1.5-meter stick on the ground.

It was true. Shuya shifted his eyes, as if it were a miracle. Shuya’s face made Hiroki grin.

“I have to do a body check.”

“Shogo, come on.”

Shogo paid no attention to Shuya’s protest and moved forward, holding onto his shotgun. He went behind Hiroki and first checked his hands behind his neck. Then he rubbed his left hand over Hiroki’s school coat.

His hand stopped at a pocket.

“What the hell’s this?”

“Go ahead and pull it out,” Hiroki said with his hands held together. “But give it back to me.”

Shogo pulled it out. It was the size and shape of a thick notepad, but it was made of plastic or steel. The cover panel reflected the moonlight. After fiddling around with it, Shogo said, “Ah ha.” He moved his body with the object in his hands and then looked down at the cover panel against the moonlight. He nodded and returned it to Hiroki’s pocket. Then he thoroughly searched Hiroki down to his pant cuffs. He also checked his day pack and finally announced, “Okay. Sorry about that. You can put your hands down.”

Hiroki unlocked his hands and picked up his day pack and stick. The stick appeared to be his weapon.

“Hiroki.” Shuya broke into a smile. “Come on in. We have coffee. You want some?”

Hiroki nodded somewhat hesitantly as he went through the entrance. Shogo looked outside and then shut the door.

Hiroki stood still. With his back to the shoe cabinet that was filled with slippers, Shogo stared at Hiroki. The Remington muzzle was pointed down, but Shuya noticed Shogo’s finger still on the trigger and felt slightly annoyed. He did his best not to let it get to him, though.

Hiroki looked at Shuya and Noriko again, and then glanced over at Shogo. That was when Shuya realized that Hiroki was troubled not so much by him and Noriko as he was by them hooking up with Shogo.

Shogo addressed the issue. “Shuya, Hiroki seems to want to ask whether it’s all right for you guys to be with me.”

Hiroki smiled slightly and looked over at Shogo, and said, “No, I just thought it was an odd combination.” Still smiling, he continued, “Shuya would never be with you if you were hostile. Shuya can be pretty stupid when it comes to certain things, but he’s not that stupid.”

Shogo responded with a grin. He still kept his finger on the trigger though. In any case, for now Hiroki and Shogo were finished introducing themselves.

“Ah, come on, Hiroki,” Shuya gave him a smile.

Then Noriko said, “Come on in. It’s not our house, so I can’t apologize for its messiness.”

Then Hiroki smiled, but he stayed at the entrance. Shuya supported Noriko with his left hand and then pointed at the hall.

“Come on in. We’ll have to get going soon, but we have a little time. We’ll throw you a welcoming party.”

But Hiroki stood still there. Shuya realized how he’d forgotten to share an important detail. Hiroki might have been appalled Shuya was using the word “party” in this situation.

“Hiroki, we can get out of here. Shogo is going to help us.”

Hiroki’s eyes widened a little. “Really?”

Shuya nodded. But then Hiroki looked down. Then he looked up again.

“Thing is…” he said and shook his head, “there’s something I have to take care of.”

“Something?” Shuya knit his brows. “Why don’t you first come on in—”

Instead of taking Shuya up on his invitation, he asked, “Have you three been together all this time?”

Shuya thought it over and then shook his head. “No. Well, me and Noriko were. And then…”

Then he remembered what happened this morning. It’d been a while since the image of Tatsumichi Oki’s skull split open assaulted him, and once again he felt a chill run down his spine.

“…yeah. A lot of stuff happened, and we ended up joining Shogo.”

“I see.” Hiroki nodded and then said. “Hey, have you guys seen Kotohiki?”

“Kotohiki?” Shuya repeated. Kayoko Kotohiki (Female Student No. 8)? The one who, in spite of being into tea ceremony, seemed more playful than elegant?

“No.” Shuya shook his head. “We haven’t but…” He thought of Shogo and looked over at him, but he also shook his head, saying, “I haven’t seen her either.”

Of course Kayoko Kotohiki had to be on this island. As long as her name wasn’t announced yet in Sakamochi’s announcements, she had to be alive. Unless she was killed after 6 p.m.

Once again he realized how he was letting most of his classmates die and felt awful.

“What about Kotohiki?” Noriko asked.

“Oh.” Hiroki shook his head. “It’s no big deal. Thanks. Sorry, but I have to get going.” He gave Shuya a parting glance and turned to go.

“Hold on, Hiroki!” Shuya stopped him. “Where are you going? I told you we’re safe with us, didn’t I?”

Hiroki looked back at Shuya. There was a sad look in his eyes, but they still gave away that humorous trace of irony. It might have been a look all his close friends shared. Yoshitoki Kuninobu (deceased, damn), and of course Shinji Mimura, and—now it seemed—Shogo Kawada.

“I have to see Kayoko Kotohiki about something. So I have to go.”

Something. What could that possibly be in this situation where moving around would only increase your chances of dying? Finally Shuya said, “Hold on. You can’t go… not with any real weapons. It’s too risky. And how are you going to find her?”

Hiroki bit his lower lip. Then he pulled out that object resembling a mobile data terminal from his pocket and showed it to Shuya. “This is the ‘weapon’ I got in my day pack. Professor Kawada over there could explain.” He pointed at his neck while his hand held the device. The silver collars around the necks of Shuya, Noriko, and Shogo were all shining. “Looks like this device detects anyone wearing these collars. Once someone’s in the vicinity, they show up on the screen. But you can’t tell whose collar it is.”

Shuya finally figured out the answer to Shogo’s questions. It was thanks to this device Hiroki had been able to announce there were three of them and detect their movements. Like the computer at the school monitoring their positions, it could detect the position of anyone wearing a collar, even if, as Hiroki said, you couldn’t tell who it was.

Hiroki put the device back into the pocket. “See you—” He was ready to go when he suddenly stopped, “Oh, one more thing. Beware of Mitsuko Souma,” he added. He gave Shuya and then Shogo a stern look. “She’s playing the game. I don’t know about the others, but I know for sure she is.”

“Did you fight her?” Shogo asked.

Hiroki shook his head. “No. I didn’t, but Taka-Takako Chigusa said so before she died. Mitsuko killed Takako.”

Shuya suddenly recalled how Takako was already dead. After hearing Sakamochi announce her death, he’d been concerned about its effect on Hiroki, but he was so happy to see him he’d forgotten this dreadful fact.

Hiroki and Takako Chigusa were close. For a while, Shuya actually thought they were going out. But when he’d casually asked him about it, Hiroki chuckled and said, “She’s in a different class. We’ve known each other since we were kids. You know hide-and-seek, that kind of thing. When we used to fight, I’d be the one crying.” Of course Takako Chigusa was an amazing athlete, and pretty aggressive, but her taking on Hiroki, who was now over 180 centimeters tall and ranked in martial arts—a while back, the only time he visited his house, Hiroki reluctantly showed him how he could split a piece of pine wood with the palm of his hand—just preposterously funny.

But now Takako Chigusa was dead. And given the way Hiroki had just described it, he was there when she died.

“So you were with her?” Noriko asked quietly.

Hiroki shook his head. “Just the very end. I… when we left, I hid in front of the school, waiting for her. But then Yoshio came back, and I got too distracted, so I lost Takako. Then as I looked for Takako, I ended up losing my chance to join you, Shuya, and Shinji.”

Shuya nodded several times. So Hiroki was in front of the school until Yoshio Akamatsu returned. He probably hid in the woods. It was dangerous, of course. But that only showed how important Takako was to Hiroki.

“But,” Hiroki continued, “I found Takako. I was… too late though.” Saying this much, Hiroki looked down. He shook his head several times. Without being told, Shuya understood that by the time Hiroki had found Takako she was dying from being attacked by Mitsuko.

Shuya thought of telling him how Yoshio Akamatsu had killed Mayumi Tendo, and how he had almost killed Shuya as well, but it was irrelevant now. Yoshio Akamatsu was dead now too.

“I don’t know what to say, but I’m so sorry,” Noriko said.

Hiroki smiled a little and nodded. “Thanks.”

“In any case,” Shuya said, “Come on in. Let’s talk it over, what’s the—”

He meant to say “rush” but refrained. If Hiroki wanted to see Kayoko Kotohiki while they were both still alive, what else could he do but rush? While Hiroki’s connection to Takako Chigusa was clear, Shuya had no idea why it was so important for him to find Kayoko Kotohiki. But in any case, as they sat here talking, she could be fighting someone, or she might even be dying.

Hiroki grinned. It seemed he knew what Shuya was thinking.

Shuya licked his lips. He glanced over at Shogo and then said, “If you insist.” He looked at Hiroki and continued, “We’ll find her with you.”

But Hiroki flatly refused. He pointed his chin at Noriko. “Noriko’s injured. It’s too dangerous. No.”

Shuya found the situation unbearable. “But you could be saved with us. How are we going to meet again if you leave?” Once they separated it would be nearly impossible for them to meet again.

“Hiroki.” It was Shogo. He still held the shotgun, but his finger wasn’t on the trigger anymore. Hiroki looked over at him, and Shogo pulled out something small from his pocket with his open hand. He lifted it to his mouth and bit on its metal end, twisting it. It made the chirping sound of a bird. It was a loud, brilliant, and playful sound. Like a robin or chickadee.

Shogo released his hand from his mouth, and Shuya realized that it was Shogo’s device—a bird call? Forget why he would have one in the first place—it was one of those things that mimicked the sound of birds chirping.

“Whether you meet Kayoko Kotohiki or not,” Shogo said, “if you want to see us, make a fire somewhere and burn raw wood to get some smoke going. Make two fires. Of course, leave as soon as you make them because you’ll only attract attention. And make sure you don’t cause a fire. Once we see that we’ll make this call every fifteen minutes, say, for fifteen seconds. Try to find us by following this sound.”

He pointed to the bird call.

“This sound is your ticket out of here. If you’re up for it, you can come aboard our train.”

Hiroki nodded. “Okay. I will, thanks.”

Shogo took out his map. He unfolded it and handed the map and his pencil over to Hiroki. “Also, I’m sorry for keeping you, but I need you to mark where Takako was killed. If you saw anyone else, I need to know those locations too.”

Hiroki lifted his brow slightly as he took the map. He spread the map out on the shoe cabinet, under the moonlit window, and held the pencil.

“Give me your map. I’ll write in the locations of the bodies we know,” Shogo said. Hiroki stopped writing and handed over his map. The two began marking the maps side by side.

“I’ll bring some coffee over,” Noriko said and left Shuya’s arm. She limped down the hall, using the wall as support.

“Did Takako say whether Mitsuko had a machine gun?” Shogo asked as he wrote.

“No,” Hiroki answered without lifting his eyes, “She didn’t say anything about that. I do know that she was shot several times. It wasn’t a single bullet.”

“I see.”

As the two proceeded, Shuya explained the fates of Yoshio Akamatsu, Tatsumichi Oki, and Kyoichi Motobuchi. Hiroki nodded as he continued to write.

Shogo was done marking Hiroki’s map. He pointed at it and explained, “This is where Kaori Minami was killed. Shuya saw Hirono Shimizu escape. She might have done it in self-defense. But either way, you should be careful.”

Hiroki nodded. Then unexpectedly he said, “I saw Kaori too,” and pointed at the map. “Before noon. She fired at me, but I think she was in a panic.”

Shogo nodded and exchanged Hiroki’s map with his.

Noriko came out into the hall, holding a cup. Shuya went down the hall and took it from Noriko, who walked unsteadily. He offered it to Hiroki, who took a sniff, whistled lightly, and then held it. “Thanks,” he said and took a sip. Then he put the cup on the raised entrance floor. It was nearly full.

“I’ll see ya.”

“Hold on.” Shuya pulled out his SIG-Sauer from under his belt. With its grip pointed at Hiroki, he offered it to him. He also pulled out an extra cartridge from his pocket. “If you still insist on going take these, okay? We have a shotgun and one more gun.”

The first gun was Kyoichi Motobuchi’s, and the Smith & Wesson was now with Shogo. Shuya’s handing over the SIG-Sauer gun would decrease their fighting capacity, but Shogo didn’t intervene.

But Hiroki shook his head. “You need that, Shuya. You better protect Noriko all right. I can’t take that. Even if someone attacks me, I just can’t do it.” He tilted his head and then examined both Shuya and Noriko. He broke into a slight grin and then added, “I always wondered why you two weren’t going out.” Then he nodded at each of them and quietly opened the entrance door.

“Hiroki,” Noriko called. Her voice was quiet. “Be careful.”

“I will. Hey, thanks. And best of luck to you guys.”

“Hiroki,” Shuya was getting choked up, but managed to say, “We’ll meet again. That’s a promise.”

Hiroki nodded and left. Shuya held Noriko and stepped through the front entrance, watching Hiroki as he quickly ascended the mountain.

Without a word, Shogo gestured to Shuya and Noriko to move back and close the door.

Shuya took a deep breath and turned around. He could barely see the steam still rising from the cup Hiroki had left on the floor.

49

The moon was high in the center of the sky. There wasn’t a single cloud. The white light from the nearly full moon cast a thin film over the rest of the sky, obscuring the stars.

Shogo, who was leading, stopped. Shuya, who was supporting Noriko with his shoulder, stopped too.

“Are you all right?” Shuya asked Noriko.

She nodded. “I’m fine.” But Shuya could tell she was still unsteady.

Shuya looked at his watch. It was past 11 p.m. now, but they’d already left G-9, which was now a forbidden zone. They had to find another place to settle down.

They were tracing their way back along the foot of the northern mountain. The area was scattered with trees. A little further down and they’d be near where Kaori Minami was killed. Immediately to their left, Shuya saw a flat, narrow area that extended from the island’s residential area on the eastern shore. The flat land spotted with houses then became increasingly narrow, like a triangle. The road traversing the island supposedly passed through this pivot and headed to the western shore.

Shogo turned around. “Now what do we do?” Noriko’s blanket was tied to the top of the day pack on his shoulder.

“Can we stop at a house, like we did just now?”

“A house, huh.” Shogo looked away from Shuya and squinted. “It’s really not a good idea. As the number of zones decrease so do the number of houses. The moment someone needs something, they’ll want to enter a house. Whether it’s to eat or whatever.”

“Hey, if you’re worried about me, I’m fine now. Even outside,” Noriko said.

Shogo flashed a smile and then silently looked over the flat land. He looked as if he was taking Hiroki’s marks on his map into consideration as he took in the view.

Along with the bodies he’d seen, Hiroki had given detailed explanations of how they had died. The body of Kazushi Niida was right near where Takako Chigusa had died. Along with his eyes being gouged out (!), his throat had been stabbed. In the residential area that was now forbidden was Megumi Eto. Her throat had been slashed by a blade. (Shuya felt a pang in his chest over this one, since Noriko had told him how Megumi had a crush on him.) To the east, Yoji Kuramoto and Yoshimi Yahagi were killed where the eastern shore’s residential area met the southern mountain. Yoji was stabbed in the head, and Yoshimi had been shot. At the southern tip, Izumi Kanai, Hiroshi Kuronaga, Ryuhei Sasagawa, and Mitsuru Numai were all found dead together. Mitsuru Numai was shot several times, while the others’ throats were slashed. Three of Kiriyama’s group had died together, the only exception being Sho Tsukioka, who got caught in a forbidden zone.

“Shogo,” Shuya said. Shogo looked back. “Do you think Mitsuko Souma killed Yukiko and Yumiko?”

Even now, as he asked this, it all felt so unreal. He didn’t believe a girl could do such horrible things. Of course he had no doubt, since it was Hiroki who’d informed them, but he still couldn’t restrain the urge to dismiss it all as a delusion.

“No,” Shogo shook his head. “I don’t think so. After Yukiko and Yumiko got killed by that machine gun, you know how we heard pistols going off? That was to finish them off. But Hiroki said Takako was alive after being shot when he found her. Which means her killer wasn’t as thorough. Of course she might have let Takako go, knowing she was going to die anyway. But given the times and locations, I just don’t think Mitsuko Souma’s the one with the machine gun.”

Shuya recalled the machine gun fire he heard before 9 a.m. The killer was still roaming around the island. And the distant gunfire they heard a little afterwards, was that Mitsuko Souma?

“Eventually we’ll—” Shogo forced a grin and shook his head, “—meet him or her. Then we’ll know for sure.”

Shuya recalled something else that had been bugging him. “When Hiroki showed us his radar, I was thinking how Sakamochi must know we’re together and our positions as well.”

Shogo answered as he surveyed the flat land, “Yeah.”

Shuya moved his shoulder to give Noriko better support. “Won’t that hinder our escape?”

Shogo chuckled with his back to Shuya. “Nope. Not at all. Don’t worry.” Shogo looked over the flat land again and said, “Let’s go back to where we were.”

He continued, “A common strategy players in this game take is to show up anywhere they hear some action. That’s because of the 24-hour deadline. Because of that limitation, they kill when they can. And the fact that they’re on a killing spree means they’re on their own, so they can’t afford to sleep much. So the match has to be kept short. If something happens near them, they go there, and if there’s a fight already going on, they sit back and then they finish off any survivors. That’s why we should stay somewhere we can avoid confrontations. If we get mixed up with someone who’s panicking then one of the top players is bound to show up. If we go back where we were it’s unlikely we’ll meet anyone. Since Tatsumichi Old and Kyoichi Motobuchi, who’d been hiding there, are no longer around, that area is pretty much uninhabited.”

“But Hirono ran in that direction.”

“No, I doubt she’s gone that far. It wouldn’t be necessary.” Shogo pointed to the flat land with his thumb. “But we’ll avoid this mountain where she might be hiding. We’ll take a different route.”

Shuya lifted his brow. “Is it safe for us to move through the flat land?”

Shogo smiled and shook his head. “The moon may be shining, but this isn’t daylight. I think we’re safer there than in the mountain, where there’s too much cover.”

Shuya nodded. Shogo took the lead and began descending the slope. Shuya held the SIG-Sauer tightly in his right hand and followed Shogo as he supported Noriko.

The trees turned into a field of short grass. The first farm they came across had a field full of squashes. Beyond this field there was a wheat field. This island was so small these probably weren’t for domestic consumption. Of course the Republic of Greater East Asia was incessantly issuing orders to promote national self-reliance, so even a small farm like this might contribute a little to the effort. As they moved along the edge of the farm, the soil under their sneakers felt dry. Maybe it was because several days had passed since the area had been evacuated. Still, Shuya was struck by the pleasant, rich odor of wheat drifting through the evening air, anticipating the summer.

It was a nice smell. Especially after having smelled so much blood.

There was a tractor to their left. Beyond the vehicle there was a house.

It was an ordinary, two-story house and appeared relatively new. It was probably one of those cheap, mass produced buildings resembling Banana Homes or Vertebrae Houses. Even though it was in the middle of the farm, it was enclosed by a concrete wall.

Shuya looked at Shogo’s back as he moved forward.

Something irked him.

He looked back. Noriko was leaning on his left shoulder as she walked, but he noticed something high above her head in the middle of the sky. Something flashing in the moonlight, tracing an arc. This object came flying at them.

50

What made Shuya such a star athlete in his Little League days was his incredible ability to perceive objects in motion. Even in this dim light Shuya could tell that the object flying towards them right now

resembled a can. Of course, they were in the serene Seto Inland Sea region, so it couldn’t possibly be an empty can falling from the sky from a hurricane. There was no way it was an empty can.

No.

Shuya suddenly released his shoulder, which was tucked under Noriko’s right armpit. He couldn’t even afford to call on Shogo, who must have realized something odd though, because he also suddenly turned around, while Noriko tottered without Shuya’s support.

Shuya dashed out. His jumping ability was quite extraordinary. Just as in the past, during the Little League prefectural semifinals, he could make the ultimate play from any given position, stealing the opponents’ winning home run in the bottom of the eleventh inning.

Shuya caught the ball—no, the can—in mid-air with his left hand. He put it in his right hand, and as he came down he twisted his body and threw it as far as he could.

Before Shuya landed a bright light shined through the night.

He felt the air burst as a sonic boom tore through his eardrums. The bomb blast blew him away before he could land, and he fell sprawling onto the ground. If he’d waited for the hand grenade to fall, he, Noriko, and Shogo would have all been mincemeat now. Although Sakamochi’s crew might have reduced the grenade’s explosive power so that it couldn’t be used against the school, it was more than capable of killing human beings.

He raised his head. He realized, he heard nothing. His ears were screwed up. In this state of silence, Shuya saw Noriko collapsed on his left. Then he lifted his face to look back at Shogo and saw…

—another can flying at them!

Another one! I have to… but it was too late now.

His disabled ears all of a sudden heard a definite but muffled bang, almost simultaneously followed by another explosion in the air. This sound was also muffled, but this time it felt a little further off and Shuya wasn’t blown away. Right beside him Shogo was on one knee, holding his shotgun. He had shot the hand grenade, as if he were skeet shooting, blowing it to bits before it managed to explode.

Shuya ran over to Noriko and held her up. She was grimacing. She seemed to be moaning, but he couldn’t hear her.

“Shuya, get back!”

Shogo waved his hand and fired his shotgun with his right hand. Shuya then heard a different sound, rattling gunfire, and the wheat heads right in front of him scattered into the air. Shogo fired another two shots. In a state of confusion, Shuya pulled Noriko into the shade of the ridge marking off the farm. He got down. Shogo slid to his side, firing several shots as he went. The rattling continued, and the ridge soil blew up, grains flying into his eyes.

Shuya pulled out his SIG-Sauer and looked out from the shade of the ridge. He fired blindly in the direction Shogo was firing.

Then he saw him. Less than thirty meters away, the unique slicked-back hair behind the break in the house’s concrete wall.

It was Kazuo Kiriyama (Male Student No. 6). And although Shuya’s hearing was impaired, he could recall the sound of the rattling gunfire. It was the same sound he heard from far away when Yumiko and Yukiko fell at the northern mountain peak. Of course he might not have been the only one with a machine gun, but even so, Kazuo, who was right in front of their very own eyes, had just tried to kill them without warning, with of all things a hand grenade!

Shuya was certain Kazuo was the one who’d murdered Yumiko and Yukiko. He thought of how they were killed and felt a flash of rage.

“What the… what’s the hell’s he doing!?”

“Stop shouting, just shoot!” Shogo handed the Smith & Wesson to Shuya and reloaded his shotgun.

Shuya held a gun in each hand and began shooting at the concrete wall. (Two-hand shooter! This is crazy!) First the Smith & Wesson, then the SIG-Sauer ran out of bullets. He had to reload!

Having waited for this moment, Kazuo got up. BRRRRATTA. Sparks flew out from him. Shuya ducked, and Kazuo revealed part of his body that was behind the wall.

Shogo blasted his shotgun away. Kazuo’s body once again vanished. The swarm of shotgun pellets blew off part of the wall.

Shuya ejected the empty magazine from his SIG-Sauer and pulled out a loaded magazine from his pocket. He opened the Smith & Wesson cylinder and pushed the rod in the center of the cylinder to release its spent shells, puffed up from the explosions. One of the shells nearly singed part of his right thumb. It didn’t matter. He quickly loaded the .38 caliber bullets Shogo had rolled over his way. Then he aimed at Kazuo’s house.

Shogo shot again, blowing off another part of the wall. Shuya also fired several shots into it with his SIG-Sauer.

“Noriko! Are you all right!?” Shuya yelled. Right next to him, Noriko answered, “I’m okay.” He could make out her response, which made Shuya realize his hearing was back. He saw her in the corner of his eye reloading 9mm Short bullets into the SIG-Sauer’s empty magazine. Of all the things he’d seen since the game began this one really sent his head reeling. How could a girl like Noriko be participating in a battle like this…

A hand appeared from the other side of the wall. The hand was holding a machine gun. It rattled again. Shuya and Shogo ducked.

Kazuo got up. As he continued shooting, he came forward. Then he ran behind the tractor. The distance between them was shrinking.

Shogo fired a shot, blowing off the tractor’s driving panel.

“Shogo,” Shuya called, after shooting twice.

“What?” Shogo answered as he reloaded his shotgun.

“How fast can you run the hundred-meter dash?”

Shogo took another shot (annihilating the tractor’s rear light) and answered, “I’m pretty slow. Maybe thirteen seconds. My back’s strong though. Why?”

Suddenly Kazuo’s arm stuck out from behind the tractor. Sparks flew as Kazuo revealed his head, but as Shuya and Shogo fired back, he ducked again.

“We can only retreat into the mountain, right?” Shuya spoke quickly. “I can run a hundred meters in almost less than eleven seconds. You and Noriko go ahead. I’ll keep Kazuo there.”

Shogo glanced at Shuya. That was all. He understood.

“At the place we were, Shuya. The place where we talked about rock,” Shogo said quickly. He gave Shuya his shotgun and retreated into a ducking position. He moved around over to Noriko.

Shuya took a deep breath and shot three times into the tractor with the shotgun, prompting Shogo to lift Noriko and run in the direction they’d come from. Noriko’s eyes flashed by Shuya’s for a moment.

Kazuo’s upper body appeared from behind the tractor. Shuya fired his shotgun several times. Kazuo, who had his gun pointed at Shogo and Noriko, ducked. Shuya realized he was out of shotgun shells so he picked up the Smith & Wesson instead and began shooting again. He immediately used up five bullets. He opened the SIG-Sauer and loaded the extra magazine Noriko had loaded with bullets and began shooting again. It was crucial he keep on shooting.

He saw Shogo and Noriko disappear into the mountain.

The SIG-Sauer was empty, and there were no more extra magazines. He could only reload bullets….

But then this time Kazuo’s arm appeared from behind the tractor’s blade. The Ingram machine gun rattled away. Just like before. Kazuo was running towards him.

Shuya had to get out of this gunfight. He held onto only the empty SIG-Sauer (he still had seven more individual 9mm Short bullets), turned around, and ran. If he could reach the mountain where there was plenty of cover, Kazuo wouldn’t be able to get too close to him. Shuya decided to head east. Noriko and Shogo would be headed west to get where they were yesterday. He wanted to lead Kazuo as far away from them as he could.

It all came down to his sprinting speed. He had to get as far away from Kazuo as possible in a short span of time. A machine gun basically offered a shower of bullets so it was impossible to dodge at a close distance. What mattered was how far he could get.

Shuya ran. As the fastest runner in the class (at least he thought so. He was even a fraction of a second faster than Shinji Mimura, unless, that is, if Kazuo wasn’t really trying during his test), he could only rely on his speed.

When he thought he was five meters away from a tree he heard a rattling sound. He felt a severe blow against the left side of his stomach.

Shuya groaned as he began losing his balance, but he kept on running. He ran into a row of tall trees and made his way up the slope. The rattling resumed and this time his left arm reflexively flinched up. He realized he’d been shot right above his elbow.

But he still ran. He continued east—hey, yo, that’s a forbidden zone—and moved north. More rattling. A thin tree to his right crackled and burst into matchstick-sized splinters.

More rattling. This time he wasn’t hit. Or maybe he was. He couldn’t tell anymore. He only knew he was being chased. At least he was buying time for Noriko and Shogo.

He made his way through the trees and vegetation, climbed a hill, and then descended it. He couldn’t even afford to worry that there might be someone else hiding in the dark, waiting to attack him. He had no idea how far he’d gotten. He wasn’t even sure which direction he was running. Sometimes it seemed like he could hear—sometimes it seemed like he couldn’t—the rattling sound. He couldn’t tell maybe because his hearing had been impaired by that explosion. In any case now was not the time to be relieved. Farther. He had to get farther.

Suddenly Shuya slipped. He’d somehow reached a cliff, and all of a sudden realized that the slope just dropped off. Just as he’d done when fighting Tatsumichi Oki, he tumbled down the steep slope.

He landed with a thud. He was no longer holding the SIG-Sauer. And as he tried to stand up he realized he couldn’t. He wondered, in a daze, am I delirious from blood loss? Did I hit my head?

Impossible. I’m not injured so badly I can’t stand up… I have to get back to Noriko and Shogo… I have to protect Noriko, I promised Noriko…

As he tried to get up, though, he fell forward and lost consciousness.

51

It was almost pitch dark, but beside the dimly moonlit window Shinji tossed the item in his hand once again onto the floor. The sound of it hitting the floor was muffled by the thick folded blanket, but there was a popping sound along with a ring.

Shinji immediately picked it up off the floor and then tucked the small plastic item inside the blanket. The sound stopped.

“Come on, let’s go,” Yutaka said. He’d been watching over Shinji, but Shinji signaled him to calm down. He repeated the test again.

Pop, zing. It made the same sounds. Shinji picked it up, and it stopped.

Was it all right? But if this malfunctioned, then all the careful preparations they’d made would come to nothing. One more try—

“We have to hurry” Yutaka said again, and Shinji’s face was about to flush with anger—but he managed to suppress it. Although he wasn’t entirely satisfied he said, “All right,” and concluded his test. He unhooked the lead wire connecting the battery and mini-motor which was used for the test and began peeling off the plastic tape attaching the motor unit to the battery.

Shinji and Yutaka were back at the “Northern Takamatsu Agricultural Cooperative Association, Okishima Island Branch.”

Along with the school and harbor fishery coop, it might have been one of the largest buildings on the island. The space, unlit of course and enveloped in darkness, was the size of a basketball court, and there was farming equipment strewn all over the area, including a tractor and combine harvester. There was also a light truck with a missing wheel lifted on a jack, probably to be repaired. Then in the corner were piles of sacks of various kinds of fertilizer. (And hazardous ammonium nitrate was further beyond them, stored in a large cabinet with a provisional lock that Shinji had busted open.) The slate walls were at least five meters high, and there was an upper floor attached along the north wall where more fertilizer, insecticide, and other supplies had been stored. On the opposite, or east, wall was a steel staircase diagonally descending from the second floor, and underneath the stairs was a large sliding warehouse door. Next to this sliding door, in front of the stairs in the southeast corner, was an officelike space made up of partition walls. Beyond its open door he could make out office equipment, including the outlines of a desk and fax machine.

Setting the wire across sector G-7 where the school was turned out to be a hassle. First, Shinji tied the end of the wire to the tip of a tall tree behind the rock they’d climbed on. Then he took the other end and began walking between the trees, but then a gust in the upper region of the sky acted up, so guiding the garbage-bag balloons proved to be difficult. There were at least ten occasions where he had to climb up a tree to loosen the wire. On top of that, given how the enemy could be anywhere in the dark, he had to worry about Yutaka, so the endeavor ended up exhausting him.

But he’d managed to set the wire after a full three hours, when he heard the gunfight. It was past 11 p.m. He heard an explosion as well, but he couldn’t afford to get involved, so he hurried back to the farm coop with Yutaka. By then the gunfire had ceased.

Finally Shinji began building the electric detonator, but this also turned out to be difficult. He didn’t have the proper tools, and furthermore the device required a delicate balance. Electric current had to run through the device at the moment of impact against the school, but at the same time he had to make sure it wasn’t so sensitive it’d be ignited in the middle of the rope cable by, say, a bump or knot in the rope.

But somehow he managed to build it, using a motor (which he removed from an electric razor) instead of the detonator for the test. It was right when he began testing, in other words, only moments ago, that the midnight announcement was made. The only one who died was Hirono Shimizu (Female Student No. 10), whom Shinji saw immediately after the game began. He thought it might have been a result of that intense gun battle, but in any case Sakamochi had announced something far more urgent, at least to him and Yutaka. Sector F-7, which included the cliff rock they’d climbed up on to survey the school, was designated to be a forbidden zone as of 1 a.m.

No wonder Yutaka was so impatient. If they couldn’t enter that area then all their preparations would amount to nothing. It would be the end for them. He didn’t want to be in the situation of, after a clever play, being just one move away from checkmate only to fall into a fatal trap.

Shinji quickly pulled out the electric detonator from the tube chained to his knife. He connected the two cylinders—their dull metallic exterior shone in the dark—and peeled off the insulation from the lead wire. Then using tape, he first secured the small plastic spring serving as the electrical switch, then took the end of the lead wire extending from the detonator and tied it to the wire from the charge device. He taped the connection over and over so it would be completely secure. Then next to the battery he installed a condenser circuit board taken from the flash component of a camera. In order for the detonator to be absolutely reliable, he needed a high voltage output. He connected the wires to this device as well. To prevent any accidental detonation, he decided he would work on the remaining wire from the electric detonator at the top of the mountain, taping the exposed end of the wire to the side of the battery.

“All right.”

Shinji stood up, and then put the completed detonation device in his pocket.

“Let’s hurry. It’s time.”

Yutaka nodded. Just in case, Shinji tossed his equipment, including the electrical pliers and extra lead wire into his day pack, and then lifted several piles of rope they had divided up onto his shoulder. He looked down. There was a gas can filled up with a mixture of gasoline and ammonium nitrate. To add oxygen, he stuffed in insulation material filled with air and folded in pleats. The opening was shut with the lid, but next to it another rubber lid functioning as the detonator holder was tied to it with a plastic cord dangling from the handle.

Then he looked at his watch. It was 12:09. They had plenty of time.

Okay then. He was trembling from excitement. It took a lot of effort, but now they had everything they needed. They would connect all the ropes they had, tying one end to a tree in H-7. Then they would tie the other end of the rope to the end of the fishing wire secured by the weight of a rock. They would unravel the rope and leave it there and then go around the school, going up the mountain into F-7. He would take the wire tied to the top of the tree and reel it in immediately. The rope stuck to the wire would then come to them. He would proceed to attach the pulley to the gas-can gondola with the detonation device and thread the rope through it. Then he would stretch the rope taut with one swift motion and secure it to a tree. Then the rest is… party time, dude. Have fun! Here we go! Make it happen!

Once they had done some damage to the school’s computer, or its electrical current or wiring, Sakamochi’s staff would suspect a system failure, no, given the power of explosives here once the entire computer… no, in fact half the school was blown up, then they would take the tire tubes they’d already hidden behind the rock in F-7 and run towards the western shore, escaping by sea as planned. If they could mislead the government by sending a false SOS signal using their transistor radio and get to the next island, Toyoshima, in less than a half an hour as calculated, then they would take a boat. (He had experience with a motor boat. He was really appreciating all the wisdom his late uncle had imparted.) Then they would probably escape into Okayama, hopefully landing on an obscure shore, and then they’d be fine. They could take a freight train heading to the countryside. Or they would furnish themselves with a car passing by. After all, he had a gun. Carjack. Nice.

Shinji looked down at the Beretta M92F tucked into his belt. He was planning on slipping through by misleading the government, but just in case they were found at sea, he’d filled several Coke bottles with his special ammonium nitrate-gasoline mixture and stuffed them into his day pack. But without a detonator they were basically just Molotov cocktails. If they were detected, it would be best to swim toward the guard ship and get on board to fight. If all went well they could get their hands on the enemy’s weapons, and if they could operate the ship, it could provide their means of escape. But he would have to be a good shot to accomplish this.

He was a little concerned. He’d been running all over the island with his Beretta, but come to think of it, he hadn’t fired it once. And even his uncle didn’t have a gun, so he’d never learned how to use one.

But Shinji shook his head. The Third Man, Shinji Mimura. No prob. The first time he held a heavy basketball and tossed a free throw, the ball swooped right through the basket.

“Shinji.” Yutaka called him.

Shinji looked up. “Are you ready?”

“No…” Yutaka said pitifully. And then he nervously wrote something on the memo pad.

Shinji read it under the moonlight by the window. It read, I can’t find the pulley.

He glanced at Yutaka. For all he knew he might look really mad. Yutaka suddenly drew back.

Yutaka was in charge of half of the rope supply and the pulley. Ever since Shinji took the pulley from the well, Yutaka had been in charge of it, bringing it over here and putting it somewhere.

Shinji put his bundles of rope and day pack down again. He began searching the area on his knees. Yutaka did the same.

They groped in the dark, looking beyond the tractor and below the work desk, but they couldn’t find it. Shinji stood up and checked his watch again. Instead of 12:10, it was approaching 12:15.

Finally, he decided to take out the flashlight from his day pack. He cupped the bulb area with his hands and turned it on.

He did his best not to let any light leak out, but the interior of the warehouselike pseudo farm coop glowed a faint yellow. Shinji saw Yutaka’s worried face and then beyond his shoulder, he easily located the pulley, lying beyond the moonlight from the window on the floor by the plain wall behind the desk. It was less than a meter away from Yutaka’s day pack on the floor.

Shinji signaled Yutaka and quickly turned off the flashlight. Yutaka snatched up the pulley.

“I’m sorry, Shinji,” Yutaka said apologetically.

Shinji forced a grin, “Get it together, Yutaka.”

Then he shouldered the day pack and rope once again. He lifted the gas can. He was confident about his strength, but two of these items were pretty heavy. Carrying the rope would only be partway, but he would have to carry the twenty-kilogram gas can to the top of the mountain. And they had to hurry too.

Yutaka carried his bundle of rope. The heavy load made him look like a tortoise weighed down by its shell. Well, Shinji looked no different, he thought. They walked to the sliding door on the east side of the building. The door had been opened approximately ten centimeters, letting in a thin ray of pale blue moonlight.

“I’m so sorry, Shinji,” Yutaka said again.

“It’s all right. Don’t worry. Let’s just make sure we get it right from here on.”

Shinji shifted the gas can to his left hand, put his right hand on the heavy steel door, and slid it open. The pale light spread out.

Outside there was an unpaved parking lot. Its entrance was on the right. The farm coop faced a narrow road. Near its entrance was a station wagon. The wide longitudinal road traversing the island was slightly south of this road.

In front of the door, east of the parking lot, was a farm made up of several houses. Beyond that area was another cluster of houses, and even in the dark you could see them.

To his left Shinji saw a small storage shack at the end of the property, and further on up was the school, and above it, as if it were embracing it, the cliff. There were some trees right by a two-story house in front of the school. They were planning on tying the rope to the tallest tree there. They had secured the wire near the farm’s waterway immediately left of the tree. So the wire went by the school and directly up into the center of the mountain, where the overlooking rock was, covering an amazing distance of three hundred meters.

I can’t believe I came up with this plan. I wonder though, whether that wire will really lift the rope up to the mountain without getting cut?

Shinji took a breath and then after considering it, he decided to say something. It wouldn’t matter whether they heard him say this.

“Yutaka.”

Yutaka looked up at Shinji. “What?”

“We might die. Are you prepared for that?”

For a moment Yutaka fell silent. But then he answered immediately, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Okay.”

Shinji gripped the handle of the gas can again and was about to form a smile. A smile that froze when he saw something in the corner of his eye.

Someone’s head emerged from the farm east of the parking lot.

“Yutaka!”

Shinji grabbed Yutaka’s arm and ran back behind the sliding door into the slate-walled farm coop building. Yutaka teetered for a moment, partially due to the heavy rope, but managed to follow him. By the time they were crouched over behind the sliding door, Shinji already had his gun aimed at the figure.

The figure shrieked, “D-don’t shoot! Shinji! Please don’t shoot! It’s me! Keita!”

Shinji realized it was Keita Iijima (Male Student No. 2). Keita, relatively speaking, was friendly and got along with Shinji and Yutaka (after all they’d been classmates since their first year), but Shinji wasn’t relieved someone was joining them. No, he felt like this meant trouble. That’s when he realized he hadn’t given much thought to the possibility of others joining them until now. Damn, why now!

“It’s Keita, Shinji. Come on, it’s Keita.”

Shinji thought Yutaka’s excited voice sounded a little inappropriate.

Keita slowly stood up and proceeded toward the farm coop premises. He held his day pack in his left hand and what looked like a kitchen knife in his right. He spoke cautiously.

“I saw the light.”

Shinji clenched his teeth. It must have come from the flashlight he’d used just that one time to find the pulley. Shinji chided himself, how could he have screwed up like that, rushing to use that flashlight?

Keita continued, “So I came here and saw that it was you guys. What are you doing? What were you carrying? Rope? L-let me join you guys.”

Knowing how their conversations were monitored, Yutaka knit his brow and looked over at Shinji, his eyes opened wide, realizing how Shinji hadn’t lowered his gun.

“Sh-Shinji, what’s going on?”

Shinji moved his open right hand and signaled Yutaka not to move forward. “Yutaka. Don’t move.”

“Hey,” Keita said. His voice was shaking. “Why are you pointing that at me?”

Shinji took a deep breath and said to Keita, “Don’t move.” He could tell Yutaka was getting tense.

Keita Iijima’s pitiful face was visible in the moonlight as he took a step forward.

“Why? Why won’t you let me? Have you forgotten who I am, Shinji? Let me join you guys.”

Shinji cocked his gun with a click. Keita Iijima stopped. They still had plenty of distance, seven or eight meters.

“Don’t come near us,” Shinji slowly repeated. “I can’t let you join.”

Yutaka whined right beside him, “Why, Shinji? We can trust Keita.”

Shinji shook his head. Then he thought, there’s something you don’t know about us, Yutaka.

It wasn’t a big deal. In fact it was a trivial incident.

It happened during their second year near the end of the term in March. Shinji went to Takamatsu to see a movie (there was no movie theater in Shiroiwa) with Keita Iijima. Yutaka was supposed to go too, but he had a cold that day.

That was how Shinji encountered three tough-looking high school students in a back alley off the main street near the shopping arcade. Shinji and Keita had already seen the movie, and once they were done checking out the book and record stores (Shinji bought imported computer books. They were lucky finds. Even though they were technical books, the government strictly prohibited books from the West so they were difficult to come by), they were heading over to the train station when Keita realized he’d forgot to buy a comic book and went back to the bookstore alone.

“Hey, you got any dough?” one of the high school students asked. This guy was at least ten centimeters taller than Shinji, who at 172 meters was short for a basketball player.

Shinji shrugged. “I think I have 2,571 yen.”

The interrogator looked at the other two as if saying, how lame. Then he leaned over by Shinji’s ear. Shinji was annoyed. Maybe it was from getting wasted on paint thinner or some wacky drug that was hip these days—in any case the guy’s gums were receding, and the smell of his breath coming between his teeth reeked. Brush your teeth, man.

The guy said, “Give it up. Come on, now.”

Shinji gave an exaggerated look of surprise and said, “Oh, so you guys are homeless! You know you should be content with twenty yen then. I actually might give you something if you get on your knees and beg for forgiveness.”

The guy with a gap in his teeth looked surprised while the other two grinned.

“You still in junior high, right? You should learn to respect your elders,” the guy said and grabbed Shinji by the shoulder. He kneed Shinji in the stomach. Shinji tightened his stomach muscles to take the blow. It didn’t hurt that much. It was just a threatening knee kick. These guys could never take on someone their own age.

Shinji calmly pushed the high school student away. Then he said, “What was that? A Russian hug?”

The guys probably didn’t even know where Russia was. But the guy with the gap in his teeth seemed irked by Shinji’s tone of voice, and his thin, ugly face contorted.

“That’s it.” He punched Shinji in the face. This also didn’t hurt much, though the inside of Shinji’s mouth got cut.

Shinji stuck his fingers in his mouth to check the wound. It stung a little. He pulled out his fingers and found blood on them. It was nothing.

“Come on, give us your wallet.”

Still looking down, Shinji broke into a grin. He looked up. When their eyes met the guy with the gap in his teeth looked intimidated.

Shinji said playfully, “You made the first move,” and then with the motion of a short hook punch he swung the hardcover imported book in his hand into the guy’s filthy mouth. He felt the guy’s teeth break, his head fly back.

It took ten seconds for the fight to end. Of course his uncle’s teachings had included fighting lessons too. It was trivial.

What wasn’t trivial was something else.

As he glared at the passers by who were staring at the high school students on the ground, Shinji headed back to the book store and found Keita in the comics section. The book he went back for was already in a shopping bag. He seemed to be browsing aimlessly, and when Shinji called on him, he said, “I’m sorry. I remembered there was another book I wanted.” Then his eyes opened wide and he asked him, “What happened to your mouth?”

Shinji shrugged and said, “Let’s go home.” He knew though that Keita had actually turned the street corner for a split second and ducked back when he saw Shinji surrounded by three high school students. Shinji had thought Keita might have gone to call the police. (Well, given how they were so occupied with the suppression of civilians instead of criminals they weren’t all that dependable anyway.) Oh, so there was another book you wanted. I see.

Thanks to this incident, the train ride back to Shiroiwa-cho wasn’t much fun.

Keita probably thought Shinji could take on three high school students without any problem. And he was right. Keita probably didn’t want to get hurt by getting involved in the fight. And okay, Shinji could understand how the high school students might take note of Keita’s face if he’d called the cops. Uh huh. And Keita had no intention of apologizing to Shinji. Sometimes you need to lie to make the world go around.

These things happen. As his uncle often used to say, cowards can’t be faulted for being sly. They can’t be held responsible for everything.

But the cover was torn on the technical book Shinji bought. On top of that, the edge was stained with the guy’s saliva and dented by his teeth. That really got Shinji. Every time he’d open that book he’d have to recall that annoying face. On top of that, and he might be called anal retentive for this, but he hated it when his books were torn or dirty. He always put covers on them when he read them.

His uncle also said this. When you can’t accept the results, then you have to punish whoever was responsible for them. Even the score.

So from then on as a form of punishment Shinji decided to keep his distance from Keita. It wasn’t such a severe punishment. After all, it wasn’t like he decided they were enemies. They were both better off this way.

So it was a trivial story. And he’d never shared the incident with Yutaka.

But maybe trivializing a story like that one could get you killed in this game. This isn’t revenge, Uncle. This is what you’d call the real world. I simply can’t be friends with him.

“That’s right.” In response to Yutaka’s statement, Keita Iijima spread his arms. The kitchen knife in his right hand reflected the moonlight. “I thought we were friends.”

Shinji still refused to lower the muzzle of his gun.

Seeing how adamant Shinji was, Keita looked like he was about to burst into tears. He threw the kitchen knife onto the ground. “See? I don’t want to fight. Do you see now?”

Shinji shook his head. “No. Scram.”

Keita’s face flushed with anger. “Why? Why won’t you trust me?”

“Shinji—”

“Shut up, Yutaka.”

Keita’s face froze. He turned quiet… and then said, his voice trembling, “Is it because of what I did that time, Shinji? When I ran off? Is that why you don’t trust me, Shinji?”

Shinji aimed the gun at him without a word.

“Shinji!” Keita’s voice once again turned pathetic. He was practically sobbing, “I’m sorry about that Shinji. I’m so sorry, Shinji—”

Shinji’s lips tightened. He wondered whether Keita was being sincere or whether he putting on an act. But then he dismissed the thought. I‘m not alone. I can’t risk Yutaka’s life too. There was an aphorism he’d heard claimed by a Defense Minister of some nation, “We must defend ourselves according to our opponents’ ability, not their intentions.” They were approaching 1 a.m.

“Shinji, what is going on—”

Shinji held Yutaka back with his right hand.

Keita proceeded forward. “Please. I’m so scared. Please let me join.”

“Don’t come any closer!” Shinji shouted.

Keita Iijima shook his sad face left and right and stepped out. He was approaching Shinji and Yutaka.

Shinji pointed the gun downward and pulled the trigger for the first time. The shell popping out of the Beretta traced a pale white arc in the moonlight and a cloud of dust rose in front Keita’s feet. Keita stared at it as if it were some rare chemistry experiment.

But then he started walking again.

“Stop! Just stop!”

“Please let me join. Please.”

Like a wind-up doll Keita stepped forward. Right, left, right.

Shinji clenched his teeth. If Keita was going to pull out something besides his knife, it would have to come from his right arm.

Can you aim well? This time it won’t be a threat. Accurately?

Of course.

There was no time left. Shinji pulled the trigger again.

He felt his finger slip.

A split second before the popping sound, Shinji suddenly realized that he was sweating. He was sweating from the tension.

It happened so suddenly. Keita Iijima bent over as if his upper body had been punched in. He spread out his arms like a shotputter does right before throwing a shot, then bent his knees and fell on his back. Even in the dark Shinji could clearly see the blood spurting out of the hole in the right side of his chest like a small fountain. This was also instantaneous.

“Shinji! What’d you do!” Yutaka screamed and ran to Keita. He knelt beside him and put his hands on Keita’s body, his mouth agape. Then after hesitating for a moment he touched his neck. His face went pale. “He’s dead.”

Shinji remained frozen, still holding onto his gun. He felt like he wasn’t thinking, but he was. How lame, the voice echoed in his head. Although it was irrelevant, the voice echoed the way it does when you talk to yourself in the shower.

How lame. I thought you were supposed to be The Third Man, Shinji Mimura, who never missed a shot. The star shooting guard of Shiroiwa Junior High, Shinji Mimura, right?

Shinji stood up and began to walk forward. As if he’d suddenly turned into a cyborg, his body felt heavy. One day Shinji Mimura woke up to find out that he had become the Terminator. Great.

He slowly walked over to Keita Iijima’s body.

Yutaka glared back at Shinji.

“Why, Shinji! Why’d you kill him!?”

Standing motionless, Shinji answered, “I thought we’d be in trouble if Keita had another weapon besides the knife. I aimed for his arm. I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Hearing this, Yutaka checked Keita Iijima’s body. As if to make a point, he looked through Keita’s day pack too. Then he said, “He had nothing! How could you, Shinji!? Why didn’t you trust him!?”

Shinji suddenly felt hollow. But it was necessary. Hey, Uncle, I didn’t do anything wrong, did I? Right?

Shinji looked down at Yutaka without saying a word. But—yes, no matter what—they had to hurry. They couldn’t let their mistakes drag them down.

Right before he was about to say this, something changed in Yutaka’s face.

His lips trembled. He said, “Oh no, Shinji, don’t tell me you—”

Shinji had no idea what he was referring to. He asked, “What?”

Yutaka quickly stepped back. He distanced himself from Shinji.

Yutaka spoke through his trembling lips, “Shinji, you didn’t do that on purpose…”

Shinji’s lips tightened. He gripped the Beretta in his left hand.

“You’re saying I shot Keita to buy us time? That’s—”

Yutaka frantically shook his head. Then he slowly retreated. “No, no. This whole plan—”

Shinji knit his brows and stared at Yutaka. Yutaka, what is it you’re getting at?

“This whole thing about our escape, that was just, that was—”

Yutaka still didn’t make any sense, but Shinji whose brain’s CPU was amazingly fast finally had understood what Yutaka was thinking.

No, it can’t be—

But what else could it be?

Yutaka was accusing Shinji of having no intention whatsoever to escape, that he had been planning all along to “play” this game. That’s why he shot Keita.

Shinji’s face gave a look of absolute dismay. His mouth might have been hanging open for all he knew.

Then he shouted, “Don’t be stupid! Why the hell would I be with you then!?”

Yutaka was trembling, shaking his head. “Tha-that’s…”

Yutaka didn’t say anymore, but Shinji understood that too. He probably wanted to say that Shinji was using him to survive, for instance by having him keep watch so Shinji could sleep.

But wait a sec here, I used the laptop to take on Sakamochi, and even after that failed, I came up with this other plan. So you’re saying since I’m smart I was playing around with the cell phone and laptop to gain your trust and that my hidden intention was to use the gasoline and fertilizer to protect myself and win the game. That since I only had one gun, a special explosive would come in handy to survive in this game? That right before executing the plan to bomb the school I was going to say, “Nah, let’s not”? Just like how I’d said, “It’s not working” when I was computer hacking? Look, waitasec though, what about that wire we installed by the school? Are you saying I wanted to start a wire-can phone business on this island where all the phone circuits have been shut off? Or you’re just saying that was another act? Or that I had some plan you couldn’t even conceive of?

When I said I’d help out after you told me you were going to avenge Izumi Kanai’s death, you cried. So my response was another deception?

That’s too much, Yutaka. I mean there’s no end to suspicion once you get going. But you’re going too far. This is absurd. Really, it’s hilarious. Funnier than your jokes. Maybe you’re losing it from fatigue.

That’s what Shinji thought on a rational level. And if he could have gone through each explanation step by step then Yutaka would have realized how foolish every one of his suspicions were. In fact, everything Shinji could come up with might not have corresponded to Yutaka’s suspicions. It might have been a simple case of fatigue combined with the shock of witnessing his close friend die suddenly giving way to a suspicion lurking somewhere in the back of Yutaka’s mind. But it came to surface because it had been there in the first place, his suspicion towards Shinji. And the thought of suspecting Yutaka had never even occurred to Shinji.

All of a sudden, the exhaustion he felt was overpowering. A horizontal twelve-cylinder turbo engine. This level of exhaustion is top-class, yessir, it really is a steal, sir.

Shinji uncocked the Beretta and tossed it over to Yutaka. Yutaka hesitated but received it.

Emptied out, Shinji threw his hands onto his knees.

“If you don’t trust me then shoot me, Yutaka. I don’t care, just shoot me.” Crouching, Shinji continued, “I shot Keita to protect you, Yutaka. Damn.”

Yutaka suddenly looked at him blankly. Then ready to burst into tears, he uttered, “Oh… oh…” He ran to Shinji.

Yutaka put his hand on Shinji’s shoulder and began sobbing out loud. Shinji stared down at the ground with his hands on his knees. He realized his eyes too were filled with tears.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was telling himself, hey hey, don’t you have more urgent matters to attend to? Look how vulnerable you guys are bickering like this. Have you forgotten, you’re surrounded by enemies? Look at your watch for crying out loud, you’re out of time… the voice resembled his uncle’s.

But Shinji’s nerves were too worn out, his body too tired, and emotions too rattled from Yutaka’s suspicion against him to take heed of this warning.

He merely cried. Yutaka. I was trying to protect you. How could you suspect me? I trusted you… but then again, maybe Keita Iijima felt the same way. How horrible to be suspected by someone you trust. I did an awful thing.

Amidst these worn out emotions of sadness, exhaustion, and regret, Shinji heard a rattling that sounded like the tapping of an old typewriter.

A split second later, he felt as if burnt tongs were poking through his body.

The wounds were fatal by then, but the pain made Shinji come to his senses. Yutaka, who had his hand on Shinji’s shoulder, fell to the ground. Over at the far end of the farm coop parking lot was a figure in a school coat. He held a gun—something bigger than a pistol. It looked more like a tin box. Shinji realized he’d been shot—of course with bullets, damn—with bullets that had exited through Yutaka’s body.

His body felt hot and stiff—The guy just lanced me with lead bullets, duh—but Shinji reflexively fell to his left and picked up the Beretta Yutaka had taken and dropped. He aimed it at the figure, Kazuo Kiriyama (Male Student No. 6) and fired several times at his stomach.

Kazuo Kiriyama shifted to the right before the shots got to him, though. Then along with the rattling sound, the tips of his hands flashed like out-of-season fireworks.

The blows he felt in the right side of his stomach, his left shoulder, and chest were much worse than the one he’d just felt a moment ago. The Beretta fell from his hand. But by then Shinji had already begun running toward the farm coop. He staggered for a moment, but then crouched down and dashed off, leaping through the sliding door head first. A stream of bullets chased after him and right when Shinji thought he’d escaped them, it managed to blow off the tip of his right foot’s basketball sneaker. This time Shinji grimaced in agony from the pain shooting through his body.

But he had no time to rest. He grabbed the gas can in the shadow of the sliding door and retreated through the dark where the tractor and combine harvester were, practically crawling on his left arm and left leg. He dragged the gas can with his right hand.

Blood was pouring out of his mouth. There were at least ten bullets in his body. And despite the sharp pain that shot up from his right foot he managed to glance at the vanished tip of his basketball shoes and thought, I guess I can’t play ball anymore. Impossible now. Even if I could I’ll never be in the starting lineup. So much for my basketball career.

But Shinji was more concerned about Yutaka. Could he still be alive?

Kazuo—Shinji coughed up blood as he clenched his teeth—so you’ve decided to play the game, you bastard. Then come after me. Yutaka can’t move, but I can. You can take care of Yutaka later. First come after me. Come on, come after me.

As if responding to his wish, Shinji could see from underneath the tractor a figure in the blue pale belt of light coming in through the sliding door.

Then along with the rattling sound, lights flashed like camera flashes, and bullets scattered across the building. A part of some farm equipment was blown to bits, and the window across from him was smashed into fragments.

It stopped. He was out of bullets. But Kazuo would reload another magazine.

Shinji grabbed a screwdriver near him and tossed it to his left. It made a clanging sound and tapped onto the floor.

He thought Kazuo would shoot over there, but instead he scattered bullets across in an arc around the screwdriver. Shinji ducked, praying he wouldn’t be hit. The shooting stopped again. Shinji looked up.

Now he could tell Kazuo was inside the building.

That’s right, Shinji’s blood-drenched lips formed a smile. I’m over here. Come over here—

Shinji lifted the gas can with his right hand and placed it on his stomach. He moved back again with his left arm and left leg, trying his best not to make any sound. His back hit a hard, boxlike object, and he slid around it as he continued to retreat. His movements weren’t completely silent. Kazuo already knew he was hiding somewhere in the dark here. The blood dripping out of him was a dead giveaway.

Kazuo crouched down and checked under various farm tools and the pickup truck as he approached Shinji.

Shinji surveyed the area. He could barely make out the outline of the upper floor on the opposite side of the building as well as the steel stairs that led up there from the door. If his body was in adequate condition he could have jumped on him from up there. But that wasn’t possible anymore.

There was a cart on the east wall. It was a pushcart with four small wheels used to carry equipment. The office in the corner with partitions was beyond the pushcart and next to it was an exit. The sliding door, if fully opened, was large enough for a car, but this one was only for people. The door was shut.

That door… I locked it along with the other windows and every other door. How long would it take me to unlock it?

He had no time to think it over. Shinji dragged his body over to the pushcart. Once he was there he placed the gas can on it. He opened its lid. He pushed in the rubber object dangling from a plastic cord.

He took out the detonation device in his pocket. His fingers were clumsy—probably due to his wounds—but they finally managed to peel off the tape on the side of the battery, revealing an exposed wire dangling from the detonator tube. Shinji connected it to the wire tip of the condenser circuit. He pulled off the insulation of the battery case. As he heard a faint, high hum from the rapid charge of the condenser, he quickly peeled off the tape on the charge device switch and shoved the detonator tube deep inside the gas can’s rubber cap. He left the rest of the unit, including the charge device, the battery case, and circuit, on top of the gas can. He had no time to secure it. He could see Kazuo’s feet to the right of the threshing machine.

His chances were slim. But now that Yutaka and me are injured, there’s no way we’ll ever make it up the mountain. Sohere’s a special something for you, Kazuo.

Shinji kicked the pushcart with his left leg as hard as he could. As the cart skimmed by the other equipment, Shinji leaped for the exit door without even checking to see if the cart was heading towards Kazuo.

He unlocked it in 0.2 seconds. He even utilized his right leg with its missing foot tip to crash through the door and leap out of the building.

The slate walls of the farm coop behind him suddenly burst with an explosion that shook the entire dark island. The sound of Kazuo’s hand grenade that had temporarily disabled Shuya’s hearing was nothing compared to this explosion. Shinji realized, whoa, there go my eardrums.

His body slid on the ground from the blast of the explosion, scraping off the skin on his forehead. Fragments and scraps blew by. Still, Shinji managed to look back quickly and see, right where the building’s wall should be, the light truck floating in the air upside down. Probably due to its raised position from the jack, the blast had slammed it with incredible pressure, blowing it upwards. It spun around slowly in air filled with fragments of glass, slate, and concrete (he felt as if they were also stuck into his body too, but the ones he saw now didn’t come flying out directly, but were blown up into the sky), traced an exaggerated arc, and crashed on its side in the middle of the parking lot. It rolled over another ninety degrees and stopped, completely upside down. The back carriage was nearly torn off, twisted up like a wrung out rag, and the wheel with a missing tire somehow managed to still spin around and around.

Fragments continued showering down. Immersed in clouds of smoke the farm coop was now reduced to only its frame. The only wall remaining was part of the one on the north side, along with the upper floor. But the upper floor was completely exposed behind the smoke. The south side of the roof was completely blown away, and the machines, including the farm equipment, were scattered around on their sides. Even in the dark Shinji could tell they were burnt black. He saw several bright flames. Maybe something was on fire. The side exit Shinji used to escape through was barely connected to the remains of the wall by the bottom hinges, bent over his way, as if bowing. The office with partitions had completely vanished without a trace. Well, actually there was the office desk still hanging on, glued to the part of the wall that escaped destruction, pushed from behind by the combine harvester that was also probably blown away by the explosion.

Something must have been blown up high in the sky because, completely out of sync with the other debris, it was finally landing somewhere in the smoke with a high metallic ring. Although Shinji could hardly hear it.

Next thing he knew, Shinji was struggling to get up from the debris of wall and other materials, staring at the ruins of the building. He gasped.

Yes, the handmade gasoline can bomb was well made. With that kind of destructive force it would have certainly annihilated the school.

But that was all over now. The important thing now was that he’d defeated the enemy coming after him. And even more urgent was—

“Yutaka.”

He mumbled as he finally got up, kneeling on his right knee on the debris. The moment he opened his mouth, blood came gushing out between his teeth, and he felt an incredible surge of pain running from his chest down to his stomach. It was a miracle he was still alive. But he stretched out his arms and put his right leg down on its heel and then stretched out his left leg and somehow managed to stand up. Shinji looked over to the edge of the parking lot where Yutaka was lying when he saw the overturned light truck’s door—it must have been busted—open with a dull creaking sound. (He could hear it faintly. Some of his hearing seemed to be coming back.)

Kazuo Kiriyama stepped down onto the ground. He held the tin-box-like machine gun in his right hand as if nothing had happened.

Hey—

Shinji felt like he should burst out laughing. For all he knew his blood-soaked lips might have even formed a smile.

You gotta be kidding.

By then Kazuo fired. Shinji this time met a full frontal parabolic shower of 9mm bullets and staggered back into the ground covered with debris. Something was pressing into his back. As of now there really was no need to check it, but he thought it was the front of the parked station wagon. The station wagon had also been blown up by the blast, its back stuck into a wooden telephone pole now lopsided from the impact. Another object seemed to have smashed into its windshield, which resembled a spider’s web.

Surrounded by the bright flames burning in the building, Kazuo calmly stood still. Then beyond him Shinji saw Yutaka lying on his face, half buried in the debris. Right near him was Keita Iijima lying on his back, his face staring at Shinji.

He thought, Kazuo, damn, so I ended up losing to you.

He thought, I’m sorry Yutaka, I let my guard down for a moment.

He thought, Uncle, how lame, huh?

He thought, Ikumi, fall in love and be happy. Looks like I won’t be able to… looks like…

Kazuo Kiriyama’s Ingram burst out once again and Shinji’s thoughts came to an end. The bullets had torn apart his cerebral cortex. Near his head, the cracked front windshield was now shattered, most of its fragments sliding into the car, but some of the finer mistlike particles fell on Shinji’s body already covered with dust and debris.

Shinji slowly fell forward on his face. Debris bounced up on impact. It took less than thirty seconds for the rest of his body besides his brain to die. The memento of his beloved uncle—the earring worn by the woman he loved—was now stained in blood running down Shinji’s left ear, reflecting the glow from the building now consumed in red flames.

And so the boy known as The Third Man, Shinji Mimura, was now dead.