Kawada nodded, and Shuya continued, "That's why Motobuchi thought he had to take me out. He wasn't being crazy."
"That's right. That might be. But still, I had to—"
"No." This time Shuya interrupted him. "I'm not talking about that anymore. But Oki attacked me even though I hadn't done anything. And Noriko was with me. We were together. He shouldn't have had any reason to suddenly attack, right?"
Kawada shrugged and placed the water bottle and bread near his feet. "Oki was up for it. That's all. What's not to understand?"
"Well no, I just. . . logically, I understand it. But I just can't accept it. I guess it's not that I don't understand. But Old? I don't. .
Shuya hesitated, and Kawada jumped in. "You don't have to understand why."
"What?"
Kawada's lips tightened into a morbid smirk. "I haven't been in your class very long, so I don't know what everyone's like—both of you included. But what the hell do you know about Oki, really? Maybe someone in his family is badly ill, and he felt he absolutely couldn't let himself die here. Or maybe he was the kind of person who only thinks of himself. Or maybe he went crazy from the fear and lost all reason. Or there's this possibility—you were with her, and you had teamed up. But how could he be sure you'd let him into your group? If you decided he was a threat, you could have killed him. Or, if he thought you were taking part in this, he could see you using the same logic and killing him. What about you? Did you do anything that could have provoked him?"
Shuya started to say, "No, I. . ." Then he remembered. When he saw Oki, he had reflexively put his hand to his knife. Shuya had been afraid of Oki too.
"Is it coming back to you?"
"I—I touched my knife." Shuya looked at Kawada. "But that's all. I didn't—"
Kawada lightly shook his head. "That's plenty of reason right there, Shuya. Seeing you taking your weapon in hand, Oki might have thought he had to kill you. In this game, everyone's on a very short fuse."
Then, as if making a closing statement, he said, "But in the end, the easiest explanation is that he was simply ready to do it. You don't need to understand why. All that matters is that if someone comes at you with a weapon, you can't show any mercy or you'll be dead. Rather than trying to figure out everything about the people you run across, you'd better first be wary of them. Don't be too trustful of others. Not in this game."
Shuya sighed. Had Tatsumichi Oki really been out to kill him? Maybe Kawada was right, and thinking about it was foolish.
Shuya again looked at Kawada. "That's right."
"What?"
"I forgot to ask you."
"So what is it? Spit it out."
Shuya did. "Why are you with us?"
Kawada raised his eyebrows, then touched his tongue to his lips. "That's right. Maybe I'm not on your side too."
"No, that's not it." Shuya shook his head. "Anyway, you saved us, didn't you? And didn't you risk your life trying to stop Motobuchi? I'm not suspecting you or anything like that."
"You're wrong, Nanahara. You really don't know this game."
"What do you mean?"
"Partners are an advantage to surviving the game."
Shuya considered this, then nodded. Kawada had a point. They could take turns watching while the others rested, and were anyone to attack, they'd have strength in numbers.
"Is that all?" Shuya asked.
"Think about it." Kawada nudged the shotgun on his lap. "Do you really think I was in that much danger by stopping Motobuchi? Do you think Motobuchi was ever going to stand down just because I ordered him to? Can you be sure I didn't mean to kill that crazy kid no matter what he did? Did I really have no choice but to kill him? And sure, I was never going to be able to convince Motobuchi to team up with me, but when I shouted for him to stop, couldn't that have been just an act to see if I could get you on my side? Isn't it possible that I only want the numbers for now and plan to kill you both in the end?"
Shuya stared at Kawada's face, taken somewhat aback by the logical and explicit manner in which the other boy spoke. Kawada may have been a year older than him, but the way he talked was like an adult—and a gifted one at that. He reminded Shuya a little of Shinji Mimura in that regard.
Shuya shook his head. "Once you start getting suspicious like that, there'll be no end to it. I don't believe you're my enemy." He glanced at Noriko. "That's what I think."
"Me too," Noriko said and nodded. "The minute we can't trust anyone, we'll have lost. That's what I think."
"A noble philosophy." Kawada nodded. "And if that's good enough for you, that's fine. But just remember, in this game, you'd better always be on your guard." With that he asked, "So what is it, then?"
Shuya realized he'd forgotten what he meant to ask.
"Oh, right," Shuya said. "The issue isn't us, it's you. Why do you trust us? It's like you said, just because we're together, that doesn't mean one of us—or both, even—aren't really set against you. You don't have any reason to trust us."
"I see," Kawada said, amused. "The practical question, is it, Nanahara? You're getting the hang of it."
"Don't avoid the question. Please answer." Shuya gestured, spreading his arms open. Kawada drew back as if to say, Hey, watch it with that revolver.
When Shuya persisted, Kawada again raised his eyebrows, and that faint smile returned. He gazed up at the treetops overhead for a time. When he looked back to Shuya and Noriko, his expression was serious.
"Okay, first—"
Shuya saw something dart through Kawada's calm eyes. He didn't know what it was, but it was incredibly intense.
"I have my own reasons to object to this game's rules—no, the game itself." Kawada stopped, then kept going. "It's like you said, and though I'm embarrassed to admit it, I follow my conscience. And by that I mean ..."
Kawada stood the shotgun between his legs and, like it was a cane, wrapped both hands around its barrel. He watched Shuya and Noriko.
Somewhere off in the woods, a bird chirped. Kawada looked solemn. Nervously, Shuya listened.
"You two looked like a nice couple," Kawada said. "Back there. And now as well."
Shuya stared blankly at him.
A couple?
Noriko spoke first, her face flushing bright red. "It's not like that. Shuya would never ..."
Kawada grinned. Then he broke into laughter, an unexpectedly affable laugh. "So that's why I'm trusting you. Anyway, you just said it—start to have doubts and there'll be no stopping it. Does that answer your question?"
Shuya finally grinned. Then, feeling he owed it to Kawada, he said, "Thanks. I'm glad that you trust us."
Still smiling, Kawada said, "Hey man, you're welcome."
"You know, I pegged you as an individualist from the day you transferred to our school."
"Easy with the fancy words there. I can't help it if I don't look friendly. I was born with these looks, man."
Noriko beamed at him. "I feel so much better to have another person with us."
Kawada scratched the stubble below his nose, then did something unexpected. He offered Shuya his right hand. "Same here. It's lonely by myself."
Shuya shook his hand. Kawada's palm was thick, and like this gesture, every bit that of a fully mature man.
Kawada leaned forward around Shuya and held out his hand to Noriko. "And one for you."
Noriko shook it.
Then Kawada's eyes fell to her leg, wrapped in the bandana. "I forgot about that," he said. "First, let's have a look at that wound. Then we'll talk about what's next."
29 STUDENTS REMAIN.
The sunlight coming through the finely patterned frosted glass gradually brightened and took on white. A ray of direct sunlight suddenly streamed in through the upper edge of the window, landed on the wall where Yumiko Kusaka (Girls #7) sat, and caused the girl to squint. Yumiko thought of that platitude always trotted out by their local bishop. (Her parents belonged to the Halo Church, as had she from before her name was even registered with t
he town hall.) "One day the light will find you, as it brings blessings to all Creation."
Yeah, I'm so blessed getting to play such a fun game as this, ha ha.
With a sarcastic smirk, Yumiko shook her boyishly short hair and glanced at Yukiko Kitano (Girls #6), who was wrapped in a blanket beside her, also sitting against the wall. Yukiko was vacantly staring at the floorboards beginning to take in the light. Despite the self-aggrandizing name on the front door that read oki island tourist association, this unwelcoming building seemed more like a community center. Over where the floor sank down a step for the entranceway, there was an office desk, a chair, and a rust-speckled filing cabinet. A phone sat on the desk, which she had tried, of course, but as Sakamochi had warned, the receiver was dead. A few fairly unappealing tourist flyers peeped out from the cracks.
Yumiko and Yukiko had been friends since nursery school, despite being in different classes and living in different neighborhoods. It was the Halo Church that had brought them together—or rather their parents who brought them to the church. When they met, it was Yumiko's third time coming to church but Yukiko's first, and the girl had seemed nervous, whether from the gongs ringing with the chants, or possibly the general atmosphere of the sanctuary's gaudy ornamentation. After the service, Yukiko's parents, attending to some other matter, left her by herself. Yumiko approached the timid girl and said, "Don't you think this is all dumb?"
Yukiko seemed startled, but then smiled. They had stuck together ever since.
Other than their names, the two girls didn't share many similarities. Yumiko had always been feisty and was often called a tomboy. Even now she batted fourth on the softball team (not that she saw much of a chance that she'd make it through this—not much of a chance at all). Yukiko liked more domestic things and often treated Yumiko to her homemade cakes and such. They were even very different heights; Yumiko was fifteen centimeters taller. Yukiko often said she wished she had Yumiko's tall figure and chiseled looks, but Yumiko far more envied Yukiko her petite body and round cheeks. Yes, they were completely different types, but they were the best of friends. That never changed.
Fortunately (Well, that's a disrespectful way to put it), Yoshitoki Kuninobu (Boys #7) had died before he left, meaning that only two minutes passed between the girls' departures. After exiting the classroom, Yumiko waited for Yukiko in the shadows next to the front door. Not knowing what else to do, the two ran. (That Yoshio Akamatsu would return to begin his massacre a scant twenty minutes later was something the two girls had no way of knowing.) Far north of the village and toward the mountain off the eastern coastal road, they found a solitary building plopped atop a small hill and locked themselves inside.
Four hours had passed since. Though they hadn't done anything but sit there together and wait, the girls were exhausted from anxiety.
Yumiko looked away from Yukiko, and they both stared at the floor.
As dazed as she felt, Yumiko had been thinking, What should I do now? Even inside the building, they had heard Sakamochi's six o'clock announcement. Not counting Yoshitoki Kuninobu and Fumiyo Fujiyoshi, nine of her classmates were already dead. And aside from Sakura Ogawa and Kazuhiko Yamamoto, she didn't believe the others could all have been suicides. People are killing other people. Right now, this second, someone might be dying. Soon after the morning announcement, she thought she heard far-off gunfire.
Can someone really kill their own classmate? Yumiko knew the rules, of course—she just couldn't believe a human being was capable of following them.
But.
But if someone was trying to kill me, or if I at least thought they were, then I could do it. I think.
So that means . . .
Yumiko glanced at a megaphone lying in the corner of the room. Does it still work? If it does . . .
Then isn't there something I can do?
But she was scared. She was scared to do it. Though she couldn't believe anyone was possibly playing this game, she felt a touch of fear she couldn't shake. That's why she fled here with Yukiko right at the start. What if? What if one them did?
But. . .
She recalled a scene from her childhood. She saw the face of her second best friend, after Yukiko, in elementary school. The girl was crying. For some reason, all Yumiko could remember about her friend's outfit were the pink sneakers.
"Yumi," Yukiko said, interrupting Yumiko's thoughts. Yumiko turned to her.
"Let's have some bread," Yukiko continued. "If we don't eat, we won't think of anything."
Yukiko smiled tenderly. It was her familiar kind smile, if a bit forced.
"Right?" Yukiko asked.
Yumiko returned the smile and nodded. "Yeah, let's."
They each took out a bread roll and water from their daypacks. Yumiko's eyes briefly landed on the two can-like objects inside her bag. The cylinders were greenish-silver in color, with a thumb-sized bar jutting out the top, attached to which was a lever and a ring about three centimeters wide. She assumed they were grenades. (Yukiko's weapon must have been some kind of joke—a dart set. At least the round wooden target was included.)
After she'd eaten half of her roll and drunk a mouthful of water, Yumiko asked, "You feeling a little better now, Yukiko?"
Yukiko was chewing a bite of bread, but her eyes widened in response.
"You were trembling all night," Yumiko explained.
"Oh." Yukiko broke into a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine now. I've got you with me."
Yumiko smiled and nodded. As she ate, she almost brought up what she felt they must do, but she didn't. She didn't feel confident enough in her reasoning. What she was thinking could be extremely dangerous. Going through with it wouldn't only endanger herself but Yukiko too. On the other hand, this very fear could drive them all straight to the deadline. Which was the right thing to do? Yumiko was unsure.
The two girls remained quiet for a while. Then Yukiko suddenly said, "Hey, Yumi."
"Yeah? What's up?"
"You're probably going to tell me this is a stupid thing to ask at a time like this, but..." Yukiko nibbled her small but full lips.
"What is it?"
Yukiko hesitated but finally spoke. "Did you have a crush on anyone in our class?"
Yumiko's eyes widened a little.
Wow. This is exactly the kind of thing you'd talk about on a school trip. After the card games, the pillow fights, the explorations of the inn and such had concluded, this was the late-night topic. Anything else, even badmouthing their teachers or talking about the future, ranked a distant second. It was the holy topic, a little sacred ritual observed in the dark of night. Until she'd fallen asleep on the bus, Yumiko had assumed it would likely come up over the course of the trip.
"You mean, like a boy?" Yumiko asked.
"Uh-huh." Yukiko, seemingly embarrassed, looked over to Yumiko with downcast eyes.
"Well. . ” At first, Yumiko didn't know what to say, but she decided to tell the truth. "There is one."
"Oh." Yukiko's eyes fell to the knees of her pleated skirt, and she went on, "Hey, I'm sorry I never told you, Yumi, but I—I like Nanahara."
Yumiko wordlessly nodded. She'd already had a hunch.
She pulled out her mental file on Shuya Nanahara. Height: 170 cm, weight: 58 kg, vision: right eye 20/17, left eye 20/13, build: thin, but well muscled. In elementary school, played shortstop in Little League, batting first. Quit baseball, and now prefers playing music, excelling in singing and the guitar. No nickname but is often called "Wild Seven," like the brand of cigarettes. The handle came from his status as his Little League team's ace player along with the first kanji in his family name—the number seven. Blood type B, born on October 13th—autumn, as the first kanji in his given name suggests. Lost both parents to an accident at an early age, and now lives in the House of Mercy and Love, a Catholic orphanage near the edge of town. Close friends with Yoshitoki Kuninobu, also in the orphanage—well, he's dead now. As for his studies ... in a word, so-so. Strongest subjects: the humanities, inc
luding English and Japanese. His mouth has a kind of quirky curve to it, but his sharply defined double eyelids make him look kind. Not bad looking at all. Hair wavy, down to his shoulders in the back, almost a girlish length.
Yumiko's portfolio on Shuya was practically bursting. (She was confident hers was more comprehensive than Yukiko's.) (Mostly confident.) The bit about Shuya's height held special importance—because unless Shuya kept growing, Yumiko wouldn't be able to wear high heels when she walked beside him, since they would make her taller.
But she didn't think she could share these thoughts with Yukiko— not in such specific terms.
"Huh," Yumiko said as calmly as she could. "Really?"
"Yeah." Yukiko looked down, then said what she'd been wanting to say all along. "I want to see him. I really want to see him. I wonder what he's doing right now."
Yukiko kept her hands pressed against the sides of her skirt as her eyes flooded with tears.
Yumiko gently put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "He's Nanahara. I'm sure he's fine. No matter what." Then, thinking that sounded a little suspicious, she hastily added, "I mean, he's the best athlete in class, and he seems really brave, not that I really know, but. . ."
Yukiko wiped her tears, nodded, and said, "Yeah." Then, bouncing back, she asked, "What about you, Yumi? Who do you like?"
Buying some time, Yumiko looked up to the ceiling and affected a "Hmm," as she racked her brains. This is bad. I'd better come up with a name quick just to get out of this.
Oki was the handball champ, and his face, though a little rough-hewn, wasn't bad. Mimura was the ace guard on the basketball team and knew just about everything. He even had a following among a certain group of girls (though none in Class B, where he had a reputation as a playboy). Numai acted tough, but Yumiko had the impression he wasn't so bad. He was nice to the girls—oh, wait, he's dead now. She liked Sugimura's brooding vibe. A lot of the girls thought he was scary because he practiced at some martial arts school, but Yumiko found it attractive. But he was always with that Takako Chigusa girl. She would never let Yumiko hear the end of it if she found out. Takako was a tough one. But she was a good kid. Now that she thought about it, they all were, the boys and the girls.
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