Murder Machine and the Catastrophic Athletic Festival

by Mizuki Mizushiro

  The name of this girl in a long white jacket, carrying a wooden sword, with ULTIMATE EVIL written on her cheek in permanent marker, was Anji Gosou. Part of third-year Class A, she was Arch Enemy, a member of the Public Morals Committee who dressed like a female gangster.

  Next to her were Faceless Amon Abashiri, his face hidden behind yellowed bandages, Ripper Jack Takakage Yatsuzaki, and Slaughter Maid Renji Hikawa. It was certainly a prominent lineup.

  Unlike the Slaughter Footrace, no one leaped to immediately challenge Mohawk. But when the race started—

  “Hyah-haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

  “““……?!”””

  Evading Gosou’s wooden sword, Mohawk jumped out in front. He also shook loose of Abashiri’s and Takakage’s pursuits and grimaced with his piercing-studded face. “Yer slow, slow, slow, you bastards! Next to sweet Kurumiya, you look like yer standing still, whoo! I get the shit beaten out of me every day just for fun!”

  Compared to his wicked, snarling opponents, Mohawk looked weak, but in reality he was surprisingly strong. If they didn’t take him seriously, they would be met by a painful revelation.

  Mohawk, who had escaped the melee without delay, ran all one hundred meters in the top spot. “Hee-hee-hee! Which class is my prey gonna come from?”

  He licked his lips and flipped over a card, hoisting it up over his bright red Mohawk hairstyle.

  “Third-year Class B! In a one-on-one fight I’m screwed, but I designate the whole class! Come at me all at once, small friiiiiies! Hyaa-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

  He tore up the card and threw it away.

  “““…………”””

  The mood died. For a moment, there was silence.

  “Huuuuuuh?! Did he say the whole class? He said the whole class, didn’t he?! That means I can join in, too, right?! Bring it on, you bastard, grraaaaaahhh!” Tossing aside her microphone along with any pretense of responsibility, Kurisu dashed onto the field.

  The students in the spectators’ seats also rushed out after her and swarmed Mohawk.

  “Gyah-haaaaaaaaaaaa?!”

  A death wail—Mohawk was the one to face a painful reality. He had scorned his opponents and ignored any and all danger, and this was the result.

  “Idiot.” “Yep, idiot.” “Sure is an idiot.” “He’s an idiot.” “Idiot…”

  All the other students in his own class were beyond anger. They couldn’t help but be amazed.

  Looking sidelong at Mohawk, who was being beaten to a pulp, the remaining competitors each turned over a card.

  “…Oh? My prey is in first-year Class A.”

  Among them, the one who had drawn Kyousuke’s class was Anji Gosou. Wearing a bold smile, the Savage Sukeban turned her head and set her eyes on Kyousuke.

  “The one I will hunt will of course be Kyousuke Kamiya—that’s what I’d like to say, but I’ll leave him for Saki! And Eiri Akabane—I’ll concede her life to Saki, too, shall I? Yes! It’s not that I’ve lost my nerve! There’s nothing to fear in beating the hell out of Saki’s favorite and then being beaten by her later. It’s because I am Arch Enemy! I take supreme pleasure in murder for its own sake, fwa-ha-ha!”

  ““……””

  Kyousuke and Eiri looked at each other as Gosou laughed maniacally, distorting the words ultimate evil written on her face. They wondered if perhaps this was the pitiful female student Shamaya had apparently beaten half to death so many times at school.

  Moreover, this upperclassman was the one who had gotten caught trying to escape during Summer Death Camp…

  “Well, then. Which of your heads shall I take?”

  “……Oh no.”

  “—Hmm?”

  Gosou’s gaze fixed on a certain female student in the bleachers. The terrified girl avoided meeting that gaze with her own flaxen eyes—an obvious sign of weakness.

  Gosou’s eyes shone with predatory insight. “Oy, little one over there! I’m hunting you now! Hun. Ting. You!” She pointed with her wooden sword.

  “……Huh?” Maina looked entirely lost. She glanced right, looked left, peered behind her, gazed upward, and after all that, eventually pointed at her own face. “Uh, um……me?”

  “That’s riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!” Gosou came at her, swinging her wooden sword, her long white coat flaring dramatically behind her.

  “Huhhhhhh?!” Maina tumbled out of her seat.

  Ayaka, who had been nearby, quickly distanced herself. “Do your best, Crafty Cat!” she called. “Try to turn the tables on her!”

  “Whaaa?! No way, no way, no way! S-someone heeeeeelp?!”

  “Stupid girl! No one is coming to help you!! Come on, come on, cry, scream, shake! Your life ends here, fwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Arch Enemy attacked with loud, wicked laughter.

  “Eeeeeeek?! Oh no, ohhhhh gosh—” Maina frantically turned on her heels and tried to flee. “Aiee?!”

  Her path was blocked by her seat. She dived into the bleachers, headfirst.

  —Immediately, catastrophe descended.

  “Whooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?!”

  Maina, in state of total panic, floundered and flapped her arms and legs, lost her balance as she tried to get up, and, violently thrashing back and forth, pulled absolutely everything and everyone around her into the maelstrom of destruction.

  Anyone who had taken too long to run away was dragged into the turmoil, and even the students who had immediately retreated were hit, crushed, and smashed one by one as chairs and various other furnishings were pulled up and thrown about.

  “Uaaah?! Maina, calm down! I’m begging you, cal—gyah?!”

  “Fwah?! What is this, a hurricane?! Run away, everyone, really ruuuuuun!”

  “Gyaaah?! My arm, my aaaaaarm?!”

  “Hee-hee-hee…heeeeee?!”

  Almost all of her classmates were caught up in the tempest of atrocities.

  Gosou, too, had stepped on the hem of her own long white coat and tripped, and now lay agape on the ground about fifteen feet in front of Maina. “—What the hell is this?”

  “Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?!”

  A heavy sofa crashed down right in front of Gosou’s eyes and nose. She toppled over in a somersault and scrambled away. “Eeeeeehhh?! Wha—wh-wh-wh-wh-what the hell… What on earth is happening?!”

  “It’s Maina Igarashi’s clumsiness, and you’re dead meat! You did this, Gosou, you idiot!!” Kurumiya shouted furiously, taking refuge beside Gosou on the bleachers. “Of all the people, you had to choose Black Pandora! Eee, she’s not done yet?!” Her eyes narrowed as she stared in the direction Maina had fallen.

  “Oh shit! Igarashi, don’t let go with your right hand, even if you die. Absolutely, absolutely do not let go!!”

  “…………Huh?”

  Hearing her teacher’s desperate voice, Maina slowly opened her eyes.

  What was she doing, and how did she get there—? In Maina’s left hand was a pin with a ring on it, and in her right hand she held the hand grenade that their class had acquired during the Calamity Arms Race.

  “Ah…aah…aaaaaahhh…”

  Maina’s eyes opened wide, and her face began to twitch.

  “Wait!” Kurumiya shouted. “It won’t explode just because you’ve removed the safety pin! If you replace the pin without letting go of the safety lever on the main part that you’re holding, there’s no problem—”

  “N-nyoooooooooooo!!”

  Maina threw the hand grenade.

  “You moroooooon!”

  The pineapple-shaped explosive flew through the air, rolled across the ground, fell underfoot a group that had been trying to run away from the spectators’ seats, and then—

  “““……Ah.”””

  —A white flash.

  Then the sound of a tremendous explosion, and an enormous hail of dust and debris.

  “……I’b sowwy.”

  Sitting curled up on the replacement bleachers, Maina apologized fra
illy.

  The morning events had just concluded, and lunch break had started, but since more than half of the first-year Class A seats were now vacant, their section was quiet and desolate.

  Looking down at Maina hanging her head, Tomomi glowered. “—Huh? What good is ‘I’b sowwy,’ you clumsy idiot? Thanks to you, we’re totally wrecked! How are you gonna fix this?!”

  “Waah…! S-soww—”

  “I said, ‘I’b sowwy’ doesn’t cut it!” Tomomi was furious and kicked Maina’s seat as hard as she could.

  “Eeek?!” Maina shrieked and started to cry, at her wits’ end. “Waaahhh…”

  However, Tomomi did not let up. “Shinji and Arata and Kagerou are all majorly injured because of you! They put up a good fight, but they’re gone. You’ve gotta be shitting me! If you got time to apologize, how about bringing them back, you—”

  “That’s too far.” Eiri interrupted Tomomi’s heated assault. “Maina is definitely guilty, but it’s no use persecuting her, is it…? You’re only making the atmosphere worse, so be quiet for a while. You’re annoying.”

  “—Huh? Why are you getting mad at me?! This useless girl is the problem!” Tomomi raised her voice even louder as she responded to Eiri’s prickly argument.

  “…Hmph,” Eiri snorted. “If you’re gonna go there, you haven’t been much help, either, Tomomi. If you’re going to butt in, I’d rather you did it during the matches, rather than at times like this.”

  “Faah! What the hell is that supposed to mean, Eiri? I’m trying my hardest, and I’m not getting in your way!! So where do you get off talking to me like that—”

  “Quit it. You both are too irritable,” Kyousuke said wearily, stepping between Eiri and Tomomi’s angry glares.

  After Maina had panicked during the Seek-and-Destroy Challenge and set off the hand grenade, leaving at least five of their classmates unable to fight—somehow they had been able to get through the following event, Very Large (One Ton) Ball Rolling, but the problem was the next event.

  The final event of the morning, Apocalyptic Cavalry Battle, was not a competition against another class but against an entire year.

  Many points were awarded for winning, and it was a round-robin fight in which everyone participated, but with nearly half of their class in the infirmary, the number of people left to fight for first-year Class A was extremely small. First-year Class B, too, had been completely defeated by their betters. And then, even more people had been sent to the infirmary during the incident…

  Only eight of their seventeen classmates were left in the bleachers. The others would probably return after a short rest, but their combat capabilities would be questionable at best.

  Ayaka, who had been caught up in Maina’s clumsiness, puffed out her cheeks and groaned. “…Hmm. It’s dangerous to compete like this, isn’t it?” Her gaze rested on the scoreboard, hung horizontally on the tent.

  The scores on it read—

  Third-year Class A

  109 points

  Third-year Class B

  114 points

  Second-year Class A

  85 points

  Second-year Class B

  90 points

  First-year Class A

  99 points

  First-year Class B

  103 points

  “……Fourth out of six classes, hmm.”

  “Yeah. But there are only fifteen points’ difference between us and first place…”

  From the scoreboard, it looked as though they had been fighting hard, but first-year Class A had suffered an overwhelmingly large number of casualties. The events would only get more dangerous in the afternoon, and taking into account the higher stakes, the battle before them seemed grim.

  In truth, Kurumiya’s words “The morning is not about getting points, it’s about cutting down their fighting strength” and “The real battle for points starts in the afternoon” had been the foundations of their strategy for the athletic festival. Now that they had completely failed to follow that strategy, the class’s morale was failing.

  The surviving students were by no means unharmed, least of all Kyousuke, who had suffered at the hands of the three brothers and was currently wrapped in bandages and covered in plasters. It wasn’t clear whether he would be able to fight to the bitter end of the afternoon in this state…

  “What the fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” A violent bellow crashed over them. “What’s with those faces, you bastards?! You look just like the remnants of a defeated army, don’cha? The competition isn’t finished yet! If you lose in your minds, it’s all over, though!! Look alive, look alive!”

  “M-Miss Kurumiya…”

  Kurumiya had returned from surveying the situation in the infirmary and now stood glaring at the spectators’ seats. As Kyousuke and the others looked around at one another, Kurumiya let out a little sigh. “Sure, we’ve suffered some losses. And yes, our fighting strength has been diminished. But who cares? The cornerstone of our class, Kyousuke Kamiya, is not done in yet, Eiri Akabane is uninjured, little Kamiya and Igarashi have only taken minor wounds. Saotome is…seriously hurt but not entirely unable to move. The others are in the same state, so if push comes to shove, we can force a bit more out of them, even if they almost die. Anyhow, our main force is mostly untouched, so we can still shoot for an overall victory just fine. Keep fighting! And don’t give up! Got it? If you understand, then even though it looks bleak, eat up and get your energy back.”

  As she battered them with encouraging words, Kurumiya lowered some kind of rectangular package. It was big, about waist height, and wrapped in bright red cloth.

  “Uh, ummm…?”

  As Kyousuke and the others watched, perplexed, Kurumiya began to spread out a picnic blanket behind the bleachers. She set her package on top of the charming bear-print blanket.

  “—Hey. I made you a lunch box with top-grade ingredients. Be grateful and eat up, piglets!”

  Kurumiya opened the wrapping cloth, revealing a twelve-layer stacked box packed tight with a massive quantity of food. From standard lunch box items like rolled omelets and Vienna sausages, to Chinese food like pepper-steak stir fry and chili shrimp, to Japanese offerings like grilled fish and stewed food, to meat dishes like hamburger steaks and roast beef, to rice balls…et cetera. Each tier had a different theme, packed to the brim with handmade food.

  “““”””

  Faced with this glistening, picturesque scene, Kyousuke and the others didn’t know how to react.

  Kurumiya, who had finished setting the food out on the picnic blanket, raised an eyebrow. “…Hmm? What are you waiting for? Hurry up and get over here. It’s a lunch box, so I made it in advance, but I can vouch for the flavor. The rice balls are filled with pickled plums, salmon, cod roe, or tuna salad. Heh-heh-heh…”

  “…Um, Miss Kurumiya.” While everyone else sat reeling with astonishment, Ayaka raised her hand.

  “What is it, little Kamiya? Go on and say it—your cooking is ten million, ten thousand times better, right?!”

  “What are you scheming? I-it’s scary…brrr.”

  “—Ah?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I agree! It’s like, totally bizarro for Miss Kurumiya to be nice, you know. It feels way weird…”

  “You gotta be kidding me!” Kurumiya shouted at Ayaka and Tomomi, who were holding each other in fear. “Do you wanna eat my iron pipe instead, assholes?! The food’s fine, so shut up and get over here, or I’ll send you idiots to the infirmary!!”

  “…Well, how is it? And be honest with me, Kamiya,” Kurumiya asked quietly.

  They were seated on the picnic blanket, harmoniously (?) enjoying a meal around the lunch basket.

  “Huhhh?! Ah, let me see… Um…,” Kyousuke answered while cramming a rice ball down his throat, “I-it’s of…ordinary deliciousness!”

  “—Ordinary…deliciousness? What the hell does that even mean?”

  “Huuhh?! I mean, it doesn’t have any particularly intense flavor or anything, but…�
��

  “Don’t tell me what it’s not. Do you want to be disciplined?”

  “Eeek?! S-sorryyy!”

  Glaring at Kyousuke, who was prostrating himself in apology, Kurumiya snorted. “Hmph.”

  The food was tasty enough, and there was nothing particularly off about it, but the person who had made it was just too intimidating—every time Kyousuke or any of the others moved even a single bite toward their mouths, Kurumiya launched into a furious cross-examination that kept them on their toes. An unspeakable feeling of tension hung in the air.

  “—Oy, Igarashi. How is that rolled omelet? I know I can make those well.”

  “Eeek?!” Maina started and dropped the rolled omelet she had been eating. A vein bulged in Kurumiya’s forehead.

  “Eeek?!” Maina shuddered and picked the omelet back up. “Th-th-th-three-second rule! Nom, nom, it’s sweet and delicious! J-just like you, Miss Kurumiya! Ah-ha…ah-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha…”

  “Heh-heh-heh…isn’t it? I use honey in place of the sugar. That way, it’s softer and finishes with a mild flavor.”

  “…Hmm? I prefer it when they aren’t that sweet, though,” Eiri muttered nonchalantly.

  “Shut up, Akabane. I didn’t ask for your opinion!” Kurumiya snapped, climbing to her feet. “Oy, assholes. Do you have enough to drink? I brought tea. You can have sports drinks, too. There are still plenty of cold ones, so feel free—”

  “Wow, what’s this, Hijiri’s home cooking? Incredible!”

  As Kurumiya turned toward the cooler, Reiko sauntered up to the bleachers. She was wearing her white lab coat over her class uniform, and her eyes were twinkling. “How unexpectedly feminine of you, Hijiri dear! You’ll make a good bride someday.—Right, Renji?”

  “…………”

  Renji, who was accompanying her, did not respond.

  “Oh?” Kurumiya’s bloodlust spiked. “What is the enemy leader doing here? Get lost, idiot.”

  “Eeeeeehhh?!” Reiko clung to their teacher, protesting her callous treatment. “Mean! That’s so mean, Hijiri! And despite all we’ve been through together. How can you spew such abuse? I’m hurt! You’ve hurt me, Hijiriii!”