Murder Machine and the Catastrophic Athletic Festival

by Mizuki Mizushiro

  “Eeeeeekkk?! Let me go, you perverted princeeeeeess!”

  “He-he-heh… Now the true hell is upon us! Go ahead and enjoy your temporary respite, as best you can…!”

  As Shamaya and Eiri struggled with each other on the ground, Michirou shuffled past them and the goal, mumbling to himself.

  Busujima scratched the back of his head at this strange state of affairs. “Ummm… Can we, ah… Can someone please stop Miss Shamaya?”

  “Right. Now that Miss Mizuchi has put an end to a certain Public Morals Committee member’s rather obscene transgressions…”

  “We’re moving on to the fifth race! And it’s the last contest in the Hundred-Meter Slaughter Footrace. It’s all been building up to this, and bringing the action to a close are these six students! First, in lane one—”

  “Hyah-haaaaaaaaa! It’s the one you’ve been waiting for, asshoooles!! Finally the main character enters the stage! I’m gonna slaughter each and every one of you side characters, so get ready!! Kyah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! By the way, my name is—”

  “FUUUUUUUUUCK!” Kurisu shouted, hanging out of the MC booth, middle fingers angrily raised. “Don’t interrupt the live coverage—! I’ll slaughter you first, you Mohawk bastard!! I see, so this is the troublemaker everyone’s been talking about… You think you got what it takes to shake me from my position as the ultimate problem child, huh?!”

  “Please don’t engage in such improper contests,” Busujima interjected.

  “…Contest? Hya-ha-ha! You can’t compare me to anyone! Pitiful rivals like you are out of your depth!! No contest!”

  The male student in lane six, strutting and shouting just as he pleased, was, of course, Mohawk. Provoking Kurisu, as well as the rest of his upperclassmen competition, he didn’t seem to give a single thought to his explosive situation.

  In lane one, a female student stood looking completely unfazed. She glanced sidelong at Mohawk and the three other upperclassmen who were giving off menacing vibes…

  “Laughable. It’s best to pay no mind to the posturing of such a weakling. If you allow yourself to be taken in by cheap provocation, you only show yourself to be a fool on the same level!”

  Beast of the Gale Haruyo Gevaudan Tanaka: Dressed in a blood-red kigurumi mascot suit, she was the mysterious Costume Killer. Considered the strongest of the second-year students, she was supposed to be the best fighter in the whole academy. Kurumiya had called special attention to her, warning the class to be especially vigilant around this particular mass murderer. Haruyo had killed seven people outside of the academy and one person after enrolling. Kurumiya’s briefing had ranked her threat level S, the same as Shamaya.

  Also—

  “…………”

  Looming massively in lane two was Renji Hikawa. Atop his tall muscular body was an ivory-white gas mask, making him as mysterious as Haruyo.

  Under the bulky kigurumi costume, Haruyo let out a sound of wonder. “Whoa! You’re no ordinary freshie. I can feel a torrent of unusual energy around you.”

  “…………”

  Renji was silent. He did not even look in Haruyo’s direction.

  “Oh-ho-ho, I see… So you make it a point not to engage in superfluous talk before a battle? Interesting. I like you, Mr. Mask. It seems like this will be at least somewhat enjoyable. Don’t break on me too easily!”

  Renji seemed to ignore her.

  Haruyo laughed a strange, angry laugh. Like Mohawk and the others, she was, in her own way, working herself up for battle.

  Heavy bass music reverberated through the grounds.

  “Okaaay! Well then, let’s get started already. Oy, Mohawk, get in position! You too, second-and third-years. Silence that damn impertinent underclassman with all your might!! Engrave terror into his very core, so that he never shoots his mouth off again!”

  The race started. Immediately—

  —A blood-colored breeze blew past.

  Before the sound of the starting bell had faded, Haruyo had made a beeline from lane one to lane six. All the students along her route froze in surprise. She must have swung her fluffy arms faster than the eye could see, but there was no obvious effect.

  “……Hya-ha? Hya, hya-ha-ha-ha… Hyaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Mohawk laughed and smacked his chest. He ambled toward Haruyo, who was standing still a few steps away, and put his hands on her shoulders. “What’s with you? You startled me. Gya-ha-ha! After all that, it was all for show, just like your kigurumi—”

  “Don’t worry about that. You are already done for.”

  “—Hyah-ha?”

  The moment Haruyo finished speaking, a thin line of blood began to trickle from Mohawk’s nose. Quickly the flow increased, and soon red rivers of blood were rushing from his nose and then his eyes, his mouth, his ears, and…other holes.

  “Eeeeee?! Wh-what the hell is thiiiiiisss?!”

  “The blood, the blood won’t stop—gyeeeeeehhh?!”

  “H-h-h-h-h-help meeeeee!!”

  Mohawk was not the only one in distress.

  The second-and third-year students who had been positioned along Haruyo’s path also had blood gushing from every hole in their bodies. The torrents only grew faster and seemed to be far from stopping.

  “Abwuh?!” “Hybwuh?!” “Twabah?!” “Hya-haaaaaa?!”

  Simultaneously, they all let out showers of blood and agonized death cries and then collapsed.

  “………Huh?”

  No one knew what had happened.

  “Hwaaaaaah?!” Kurisu’s hysterical voice rang out across the grounds, which were in an uproar. “Wh-what the hell just happened?! I’ve only ever seen stunts like that in manga or anime!! What on earth did the Beast just do?!”

  “My goodness, wasn’t that the Assassin’s Fist?” Busujima offered.

  “—Assassin’s Fist?”

  “Yes. A type of martial arts cultivated by Master Rokusha. It’s characterized by attacking the inside of the body rather than the outside. Victims of the assault show the symptoms a little late, as we’ve just seen. The attack disrupts the target’s vital energy and destroys their internal organs, resulting in sudden death… She must have learned the technique from Master Rokusha, her homeroom teacher. To master such a powerful skill in only half a year…what a frightening young lady! Perhaps that fluffy costume softens the external blows, like boxing gloves, while amplifying the power of the internal assault…”

  “Indeed.” Haruyo nodded and laughed boldly. “Oh-ho-ho! The martial art I wield is handed down directly from the master. And even though I’m still in training, an average human cannot hope to withstand it. With this, I will completely exterminate—”

  “…………”

  “But it looks like it didn’t take?”

  Among the students submerged in a sea of blood, one person still stood there calmly. It was the giant wearing an ivory-white gas mask—Renji.

  Renji should also have taken the hit from Haruyo’s Assassin’s Fist, but no matter how much time passed, he showed no signs of injury and did not bleed a single drop. He stood tall and still as a statue, looking just the same as before the bell rang.

  “Fa-ha-ha! You withstood my attack and yet still stand. Interesting, interesting, first-year! To think I would encounter a powerful person like this, other than Kyousuke.”

  “Geh?! Am I marked by people like that, too…?” Kyousuke muttered.

  …I’ve probably been targeted without even knowing it.

  Maybe there was someone among the upperclassmen who had a special interest in Kyousuke and the other new students and had been visiting the old school building in secret even before the athletic festival…

  As Kyousuke looked on, feeling dejected, Haruyo approached Renji, carefully watching for any sign or tell. “Well then, if you’ll allow me, I’ll also go full-out. I’m not going easy, and I’ll probably take your life, but try not to hate me? Watch closely!”

  Stomping on the ground, Haruyo instantly rocketed her short and stout body toward
him.

  “Hundred Strike Slaughter Fist!”

  She began to hit Renji’s body at ultra-high speed with both fluffy arms, too fast to follow.

  “Aa-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha—achaaa!”

  It was impossible to count how many times she had hit him when, several seconds later, she landed a final right-hand blow on the left side of Renji’s chest, finishing her lightning-fast assault.

  “Hohhh,” Haruyo exhaled pointedly.

  “…………”

  As expected, Renji did not move. The atmosphere was tense. Everyone on the grounds gasped as ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds passed…

  “H-huh? That’s odd. The effects should be obvious by now…but…?”

  “…………”

  About a minute had passed like this. Haruyo relaxed and let out a perplexed squeak. Looking up at Renji’s gas mask, she poked at his body through his shirt. “Hmmm. I wonder if I made a mistake? I think I’ll try hitting you again… H-hundred Strike Slaughter Fist!”

  “Aa-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha—”

  Renji looked down at Haruyo furiously swinging her fists and drew back his right leg.

  “…………Kksshh.”

  The next instant—

  “Ach-ah?!”

  Renji delivered a nonchalant kick to Haruyo’s stomach, the tips of his toes sinking into her gut. The kigurumi costume folded in half, soaring high into the cloudless blue sky—

  “Ah—!”

  —and fell back down with a thud in front of the dumbfounded spectators. Lying prostrate on the ground, Haruyo did not so much as twitch.

  “……Eh? You’re…joking, right? Oy… Haruyo Gevaudan Tanaka is…the feared killer, the strongest of the second-years—that crazy beast is…done for?” Kurisu mumbled in confusion.

  As if taking that as a signal, screams welled up from the upper classes’ spectator seats.

  “Ha-Haruyoooooooooooo?!”

  “Uaaaaaah, it can’t be true?! Tell me it’s not truuuuuueee!”

  “Get up, get up, Haruyo! Get uuuuuuuuuuuuppp!”

  The commotion among Haruyo’s class was especially tremendous. Some people burst into tears, others crumpled on the spot, and still others began laughing out of despair.

  “…………”

  In the midst of it all, Renji was unfazed. He surveyed his surroundings behind the white gas mask and then casually took off toward the goal, as though he had just remembered the race.

  There was no one to obstruct his progress. Behind him lay only the silent bodies of the other five competitors…

  “U-unbelievable… It’s unbelievable, woooooow!! Is this a dream? Is it reality? Is it an illusion?! Following on the heels of Killing Mania, the Beast of the Gale was also defeated by a newbie! What the hell?! Just what is up with the new students this yeeeeeear?! Up through the third race, the second-and third-years overpowered the first-years just like everyone expected, but the fourth and fifth races were huge upsets! It looks like there are some unthinkable monsters lurking in this year’s athletic festival… Can the first-years continue their steady advance like this?! The festival has only just started, so we’re expecting more crazy blood-gushing, flesh-crawling techniques yet to come, killers!”

  In contrast to the respectable fight they put up in the latter part of the Slaughter Footrace, the next two events—the Slice-and-Dice Steel Thread Leap and Guillotine Escape Game—saw Kyousuke and the other first-years forced into really close matches.

  In the Slice-and-Dice Steel Thread Leap, which used a sharp steel cable in place of a long rope, almost none of the first-years had been able to leap for fear of terrible injury, and the upperclassmen had steadily overwhelmed them.

  In the third event, the Guillotine Escape Game, Ayaka showed no fear, and Tomomi put up a good fight, but they couldn’t match the third-year classes’ times and were defeated. First-year Class B was also utterly outmatched.

  Nevertheless—

  “Now, the Slice-and-Dice Steel Thread Leap and the Guillotine Escape Game shouldn’t be any problem. It’s not about winning or losing, because you get points based on the results. You can just do your best. The critical moments are yet to come!” Kurumiya offered, reclining on a sofa in the spectators’ seats and leisurely smoking a cigarette.

  Next on the schedule was the Calamity Arms Race.

  This was a tug-of-war-type contest in which two classes were split up on either side of the grounds and fought to grab as many of the deadly weapons lined up in the center of the field as possible, dragging them back to their respective encampments.

  It was a little different from a normal tug-of-war, since the length of rope or pole had been replaced by various types of lethal armaments. Wooden bat, metal bat, meat cleaver, naginata, Molotov cocktail, blackjack, bambam hammer, sulfuric acid, monkey wrench, revolver…et cetera.

  Participants were free to use any weapon against opposing players within six feet of wherever they recovered it.

  And even though in principle it was forbidden for any student except a Public Morals Committee member to possess a weapon, each of the weapons acquired in this game would be allowed to be used once in any subsequent event.

  The advantage would be huge.

  “We’re definitely gonna win, assholes!”

  “““Oooooohhhhhh!”””

  “He’s here—! Finally appearing in the fourth event, it’s Kyousuke Kamiya! First-year Class A is finally playing their ace in the hole, the Warehouse Butcher! And with the Bitch with Beautiful Legs—Eiri Akabane, who seduced even the Goddess of Victory—joining him on the field, it’s their strongest liiiiiiiiineup!”

  “…Wha? Who are you calling a bitch?” Standing apart from Kyousuke and the others, who were huddled in a ring at the starting location, Eiri looked irritated.

  The five participants from first-year Class A were Kyousuke, Eiri, Mohawk, who had been resurrected from the medical bay, and the duo of Kitou and Kousaka.

  “Going up against them is second-year Class A! Takamoto, Motoharu, and Takakage Yatsuzaki, collectively known as the Ripper Jacks, are in the lineup together! These three brothers carried out street slashings as a group; they’re serial killers who carved up eight people with knives! Joining them is Doctor Ripper Ayako Nishikawa, and Douji Ikkoku, known for making dolls out of corpses… So this lineup is also perfect! Snatching up victory and weapons, which class will it beeeee?!”

  “This is quite an interesting combination, isn’t it? Pay special attention to the movements of the three Yatsuzaki brothers.”

  Glaring at Kyousuke and the others from a distance of about a hundred yards were five students wearing pink jumpsuits: the three male students with their mouths covered by skull scarves, a female student wearing a white doctor’s coat over her jumpsuit, and a male student holding something that looked like a ventriloquist dummy in one hand.

  In the center of the grounds a harisen war fan, a shortsword, a sledge hammer, a bush knife, a curved shamshir sword, an ice pick, a whip, a wooden board, a hand grenade, a shotgun, and a metal bat were all lined up.

  These eleven different deadly weapons had been randomly selected from the pool beforehand. In the same way, the competing classes had been chosen by drawing lots, and each class would participate in just one match. There was no second chance.

  After each class had finished its three-minute strategy meeting—

  “…Are you ready? Is everyone prepared? Well then, let’s get started! Calamity Arms Race, first match, first-year Class A versus second-year Class A. Readyyyyyy…”

  —Bang!

  A gunshot. The fierce zero-sum game had begun.

  All at once, the team members from each encampment leaped out, scrambling to reach the center first. Some students joined with others and ran in pairs, other students ran out alone, and they all swarmed for whichever weapons they had in their sights.

  “Oooooohhh!”

  Kyousu
ke was aiming for the shamshir that was right in the middle of the field. The wickedly curved sword had a lot of power to kill and wound, and it was the one weapon he did not want to put into the enemy’s hands.

  Running with all his might, Kyousuke hoped to reach his target and immediately withdraw. The plan was to retrieve the deadly weapons before the enemy class had the chance to attack.

  —However, when he was still about ten yards away from the shamshir, he noticed another student running at about the same speed, going for the same weapon.

  His mouth hidden by an ominous skull scarf, with highlights in his hair the color of entrails, was a male student of medium build. Leaning forward as he ran, his upper body nearly touching the ground, it was Takamoto Yatsuzaki. The eldest Ripper Jack brother, he was an A-rank slasher.

  “Cr—”

  Crap.

  Kyousuke had hoped to grab the weapon first, but if he didn’t, he was sure to be cut to pieces by the deadly shamshir. His gut gripped with fear, Kyousuke flinched.

  “…Heh-heh.”

  That hesitation proved fatal.

  “Well, hello.”

  Takamoto snatched up the shamshir and slashed wide. The flashing blade nearly cleaved into Kyousuke’s chest.

  “Uwah?!” Kyousuke bent over backward, dodging by a hair’s breadth.

  Takamoto narrowed his eyes. “How do you do, underclassman? I am Takamoto Yatsuzaki. Nice to meet you!”

  As soon as he had given his name, Takamoto resumed his deadly attack. He slashed diagonally down from the shoulder, then to the side. Whistling, he swung the blade again and again. Arms, legs, ears, neck… Takamoto attempted to sever any part of Kyousuke that his sword could reach.

  Kyousuke could not entirely avoid every attack, and as the wicked blade brushed his skin again and again, his white gym uniform was quickly dyed red.

  “Kuh—”

  “Hmm, you hold up well, don’t you? I guess I should say ‘as expected.’”

  He would have to try to grab a weapon somehow, but Takamoto was obviously used to handling a blade. If he stretched an arm out carelessly, he risked having it immediately lopped off. However—