But Kawada shook his head. "You're saying that should be enough for me to trust him? That won't do. He could have just been putting on a show to convince everyone he could be trusted. That would put him in the perfect position to kill us all later."
"Ridiculous!" Shuya yelled. "That's some twisted mind you've got. He's not that kind of guy. He—"
Without saying anything, Kawada pushed out his palms in a calming gesture, and Shuya quieted. Right, shouting was dangerous— incredibly dangerous.
Then Kawada said, "Cut me some slack. I don't know Mimura that well. And like I said, rule one of this game is to suspect everyone, rather than trust them. You have to be especially cautious of the ones who seem clever. Anyway, even if I asked him to join up with me, I doubt he would have agreed."
Shuya started to respond but decided against it, letting out his breath. What Kawada was saying wasn't entirely unreasonable. The real mystery to Shuya was why Kawada trusted Noriko and him— though the older boy had said it was because they "looked like a good couple."
"Well then," Shuya said, "we should go to where you saw Mimura. He can absolutely be trusted. I guarantee it. I know he'll think of something. I know—"
But Kawada shook his head, cutting him off again. "If this Mimura is as sharp as you say, do you think he'd stick around where I saw him?"
Kawada was right.
Shuya sighed a deep, deep sigh.
Noriko said, "Kawada, is there any way for us now to contact the others, like Mimura, or anyone?"
Kawada jiggled another cigarette out of the pack and shook his head. "I don't think so. If you were just trying to get people to gather and didn't care who came or how many, that's one thing. But restricting your message to one specific person would be difficult."
They fell silent for a while, and Shuya watched Kawada holding the cigarette in his lips. The lit tip of the Wild Seven made a faint crackling sound as it grew a little shorter.
When Shuya spoke, his mouth felt heavy. "So there's nothing we can do."
But Kawada lightly remarked, "That's not true."
"What?"
"I have a plan."
Shuya stared intently at Kawada's smoke-shrouded face. Then, unable to hold back his excitement, he blurted, "What do you mean? You have a way out?"
Kawada surveyed Shuya's and Noriko's faces. With the cigarette still perched in his lips, he looked up to the sky in contemplation. He traced his fingers along the smooth surface of his collar. Wisps of smoke drifted in the air.
"There might be a way," Kawada said, then added, "with one condition."
"What kind of condition?" Shuya asked.
Kawada gave a slight shake of his head. He held the cigarette near his lips as he said, "We have to survive to the end first."
Shuya furrowed his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"It should be obvious." Kawada returned his gaze to them. "It could only work when we're the last three alive—and everyone else is dead."
Noriko immediately spoke up. "That's too cruel. So we're going to just look out for ourselves?"
Kawada lowered his cigarette, holding it between his crossed legs. He raised his eyebrows and said, "That's no different than Shuya saying he wants to escape."
"No," Shuya interjected. "That's not what Noriko's saying. She's just asking if you mean to trade everyone else's lives for our own. Isn't that right, Noriko? That's cruel, to start."
"Hey, hold on." Kawada waved his hands, then rubbed out his cigarette on the ground. "I don't mind if people join us—as long as they can be trusted. Either way, the plan only starts when everyone who's not in our group is dead. That's all I meant."
"If that's the case," Shuya said excitedly, "we could just tell everyone the plan. If it's a sure thing, no one will oppose it. That way we could save all of them, right? Isn't that so?"
Kawada's lips tightened. Then, sounding a little weary, he said, "And what are you going to do if someone attacks you before you can say any of that?"
Shuya held his breath.
Kawada said, "As long as you don't actively want to kill someone, the smartest way to survive in this game is to stay put and hide. That's why the government put bombs in these things—" he pointed to his collar "—to force us to move. It's one of the game's cardinal principles. Never forget it. Carelessly stroll about, and someone might strike from the shadows. Even worse, Noriko's injury makes us prime targets."
Shuya knew he was right.
"And what's more," Kawada continued, "when you talk about saving everyone, you're really only talking about saving them from dying here. We'll be fugitives, and the government will come after us. Ultimately, our chances of being killed are high. Do you think everyone is going to accept that? Did you forget? In this game, you don't know who your enemies are. If you thoughtlessly allow everyone to join up with you, you'll do more than suffer for it."
"But nobody's—"
"Can you really say nobody's like that, Nanahara?" Kawada's eyes were hard. "All right then, if your whole class was made up of good little boys and girls, it would be just peachy. But if we want to be realistic, don't you think we should be on our guard? After all, weren't you attacked by Akamatsu and Oki?"
While Kawada was preparing to attend to Noriko's wound, Shuya had told him about getting ambushed outside the school by Akamatsu. And it was as Kawada said—Shuya didn't really know why Yoshio Akamatsu had done what he had done. Maybe Akamatsu really meant to play the game.
Shuya sighed. His shoulders dropped, and he feebly pushed out the words. "So we're just going to watch and let the good ones— who are probably most of our classmates—die? That's how it's going to be?"
Kawada nodded slightly several times. "I know it's hard, but yes— though whether that's actually most of them or not, I don't know."
They were quiet for a while. Kawada lit another cigarette. You smoke too much, Shuya thought. You're in junior high, man.
After a time, Noriko said, "Hold on."
Shuya turned his head toward her.
"You said the plan was for after everyone else was dead," she said, "but couldn't we also run out of time? Sakamochi said if no one dies for twenty-four hours ..."
"Yeah." Kawada nodded. "That's definitely possible."
"And if that happens, your plan won't be any good?"
"Correct. But that won't happen. Supposing everyone is getting along and playing nicely, they can all be a part of my plan. But that won't happen either. So there's no need to worry about that. I heard that of all of the past Programs nationwide, only half of one percent ended by the time running out."
Shuya's mouth opened a crack. Then he said, "You heard? Where did you hear a thing like that?"
"Hey, hold up." Kawada pushed the air with both hands to stop Shuya again. "We have more important matters at hand. Neither of you has asked me what my plan is yet."
Shuya went quiet but then asked, "So what's your plan?"
Kawada shrugged. With the cigarette between his lips, he spoke from the side of his mouth. "Can't say."
Shuya frowned. "What?"
"I can't say yet."
"Why not?"
"I just can't."
"You can't say yet? When exactly, then, can you tell it to us?"
"Good question. When it's down to the three of us, I suppose. But I'll tell you this for now. What I have in mind, if anyone interferes, it's not going to work. That's why we can't do it until we're the only three left alive."
Shuya again fell silent. As Kawada continued to smoke, Shuya stared at this new companion's face. Somewhere inside his thoughts, a voice whispered, barely at the edge of his perception.
Kawada grinned as if he too had heard the voice's whisper. "I know what you're thinking, Nanahara. You're thinking this: there's another possibility. I could be baiting you with the hope of escape, tricking you into helping me so that I can survive. But there's no such hope, and when it's down to the three of us, I will kill you, and I will win. It's all so convenient for
me." Kawada paused. "So, am I wrong?"
Shuya felt a dash of panic. "That's not—"
"Am I wrong?"
Shuya held his tongue and glanced over at Noriko. She remained quiet and stared at Kawada's face.
"That's not it. It's just—"
But Shuya cut off mid-sentence.
He had heard a voice. Far in the distance, and electrically distorted, the voice said, "Hey, everyone!"
29 STUDENTS REMAIN.
The voice continued, "Hey, everyone, listen up!" It was a girl's voice.
Noriko said, "That's Yumiko."
The tall, perky Yumiko Kusaka (Girls #7), who batted fourth for the girl's softball team.
Kawada's face stiffened. "I'm going to check it out. I'll be back."
He took his shotgun in hand, stood, and started walking into the thicket to the east, in the direction of the voice.
"We'll come too," Shuya said.
They hadn't finished their conversation, but for now, Shuya tucked the Smith & Wesson in his front waistband and gave Noriko his shoulder, helping her to her feet. Kawada glanced back at them but continued forward without a word.
When they reached the edge of the thicket, Kawada halted. Shuya and Noriko stopped behind him.
With his back to them, Kawada said, "They're . .
Shuya moved right behind Kawada, and he and Noriko joined the boy in poking their heads out from the brush.
The mountaintop was ahead. Among the sparse trees near the summit of the northern mountain stood a structure—some kind of observation deck. Despite their position in the foothills some five or six hundred meters away, the three students could see it clearly. Crudely constructed, the platform resembled a shack stripped of one of its walls. Two figures stood within. Shuya's eyes went wide.
Yumiko's voice traveled to them. "Everyone! Stop fighting! Come up here!"
Shuya could see that the taller of the two figures—Yumiko Kusaka, probably—was holding something in front of her face. Is that a kind of megaphone? As in the ones cops use to address besieged bank robbers and the like? Something about it seemed ludicrous—Hey everyone, stop fighting and come out with your hands up—but Shuya realized they had found a way to reach not only where he and Noriko and Kawada were, but far across the island.
"Who's that other one?" Shuya whispered.
"Yukiko," Noriko said. "Yukiko Kitano. They're together then. They're really close friends."
Kawada wore a pained expression. "What the hell are they doing? They're going to get themselves killed like that. They're completely exposed."
Shuya bit his lip. So Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano were trying to persuade everyone to stop fighting. They were attempting what he himself had considered doing but had ultimately abandoned after Yoshio Akamatsu ambushed him. Those two girls assumed no one would really want to play the game. They must have chosen that location to be able to be seen by the most possible people. That, or they had been near there all along.
"I know none of us want to fight," the voice said. "Come up here!"
Shuya hesitated. He still needed to figure out the situation. The conversation with Kawada had left a lot hanging. What if—it's unlikely, but what if—Kawada is our enemy?
But ultimately Shuya told Kawada, "Can you look after Noriko?"
Kawada turned. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to go up there."
Kawada furrowed his brows. "Are you stupid?"
Shuya didn't appreciate that remark, but he let it pass. "What do you mean? They're putting themselves in danger. They're not in this game. They're clearly not. So they can join us. Didn't you just say it? They're in danger now."
"That's not what I'm talking about," Kawada said, baring his teeth. Somewhat inappropriately, Shuya noted that his teeth were large and quite nice. “Didn't I just explain it all? In this game, the most important thing is to stay where you are. How far away do you think they are? Anyone could be between here and there."
"I know that!"
"No, you don't get it. Everyone has already noticed them by now. If we can assume someone's going to attack those two, then that killer will be waiting for someone like you to bumble through. They'll get more targets that way."
Shuya shuddered, though less because of what Kawada said as how calmly he stated it.
"Please," the voice said. "Come up here. There's two of us. We don't want to fight!"
Shuya separated himself from Noriko and said, "I'm going."
He gripped the Smith & Wesson tightly and moved to step from the thicket, but Kawada grabbed him by the arm.
"Stop."
"Why should I!" Shuya shouted. "You want me to just sit back and watch them get slaughtered?" Shuya had lost control over not only his voice, but the words that came tumbling out. "Or do you not want me to leave because you're not finished using me to get farther ahead? Is that how it's gonna be? Are you our enemy?"
Noriko spoke, her voice sorrowful. "Shuya, stop it," she said. Shuya started to say something else when he noticed it—Kawada's expression remained placid, even as he clutched his arm.
Kawada's face suddenly reminded him—though they looked not a bit alike—of the former director of the House and Mercy and Love, Ms. Anno's elderly and now deceased father. After Shuya had lost his own parents, the manager of the orphanage had been his only authority figure and guardian. When he lectured the young Shuya, the manager had worn the same expression.
Kawada said, "You can die if you want to. But if you go now and never return, Noriko's odds are going to get a hell of a lot worse. Did you forget about her?"
Shuya gulped. Kawada was absolutely right. "But. . ."
Kawada calmly continued, "I'm sure you're all too aware, Nanahara, that loving someone means not loving someone else. If you care about Noriko, don't go."
"But. . Shuya wanted to cry. "So then what are you suggesting? We just let them get killed?"
"I never said that."
Kawada released Shuya's arm, turned to face Yumiko's mountain, and raised his shotgun. "This is going to hurt our chances of survival just a little. Just a little."
He aimed his shotgun at the sky and pulled the trigger. This close up, the gunpowder blast was incredible. For a second, Shuya thought his eardrums had been blasted clear out of his head. The gunfire echoed off the mountainside. Kawada pumped the shotgun and ejected the empty casing. He fired again. The sound shook the air.
I get it, Shuya thought. He's using the gunfire to scare Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano, so they'll stop calling out and hide.
Yumiko's megaphone-amplified voice halted. Shuya thought she and Yukiko were looking their way. But the three were hidden in the thicket, so the girls would not likely be able to recognize who they were.
"Come on!" Shuya said. "Shoot some more!"
"I can't. Those two shots alone might have been enough for someone to figure out our location. Anything more will be too dangerous."
Shuya thought about it, then raised his Smith & Wesson above his head.
But Kawada took his arm again.
"Stop! How many times do I have to tell you, Nanahara?" "But—"
"All we can do for them now is hope that they'll hide quickly."
Shuya looked toward the summit. Then the voice—Yumiko's voice—returned.
"Stop! We know you don't want to fight!"
Shuya shook his arm free. He couldn't stand it any longer. No matter what it took, he wanted them to hide somewhere safe. He put his finger on the trigger of the Smith & Wesson and—
Bratta ttattattattattattattat.
The far-off sound resembled a typewriter, and as it went on and on, Shuya heard Yumiko groan. The megaphone persistently amplified her cry. Then she was quiet, and the scream came. It sounded like Yukiko Kitano. That sound too carried crisply all the way to Shuya's ears thanks to the megaphone's tiny, hardworking amplifier.
Beneath the platform's roof, the taller of the figures slowly slumped to the floor, and the screaming continued, sa
ying, "Yumi!" The megaphone issued a burst of static as it crashed to the floor. Another brattattat came, only this time, much quieter. Shuya realized that the first clattering noise had also been picked up by the megaphone. Now that the device had broken, the sound was much fainter.
Yukiko collapsed behind the shapes of the low trees surrounding the deck, and like Yumiko, she vanished from Shuya's sight.
Both Shuya and Noriko had turned sickly white.
29 STUDENTS REMAIN.
On the concrete floor of the observation deck, Yukiko Kitano crawled toward Yumiko Kusaka. Her stomach felt like it was on fire, and all the strength had fled her body, but somehow she managed to crawl, her trail on the white concrete a wild brushstroke painted in red.
"Yumi!" The scream tore through her stomach, but Yumiko didn't care. Her best friend had fallen and wasn't moving. Nothing else mattered.
Yumiko was lying on her stomach with her face turned toward Yukiko. But her eyes were closed. A pool, thick and red, began spreading underneath her.
When Yukiko reached her friend, it took all of her strength to sit up. She grabbed Yumiko by the shoulders and shook.
"Yumi! Yumi!"
As she screamed, flecks of red fell on Yumiko's face. Yukiko didn't realize they had come from her own mouth.
Slowly, Yumiko opened her eyes and whispered, "Yukiko ..."
"Yumi! Wake up!"
Yumiko winced. But she held on through the pain and said, "I'm sorry, Yukiko. I was a fool. Hurry . . . run."
"No!" Crying, Yukiko shook her head. "We have to go together. Come on!"
Yukiko frantically looked around. She saw no sign of their attacker. Whoever it was must have targeted them from a distance.
"Hurry, Yumiko!"
She tried to help up Yumiko, but it was hopeless. She became suddenly aware that she could barely support her own body. The pain in her stomach redoubled, and she groaned and collapsed forward. She could only manage to turn her head to face her friend.
Yumiko's face was right there, staring at her with glazed eyes. "Yukiko," she said, her voice feeble. "Can you move?"
"No." Yukiko forced her cheeks into a smile. "I guess not."
Battle Royale (Remastered) Page 15