Battle Royale (Remastered)
Page 22
She was Megumi Eto (Girls #3).
She wasn't who he'd feared she might be.
Though deeply shaken by the horrific sight, he felt relieved. He closed his eyes and let out a breath. Then, feeling guilty over his relief, he gently picked up Megumi's body and moved her out of the pool of blood and rested her on her back some distance away. Rigor mortis had begun to set in, and he felt a little like he was posing a doll, but when he was done, he softly closed her eyelids. He thought for a moment, then tried to fold her arms over her chest, but her body was too stiff now, and he had to give up.
Reclaiming his stick and his daypack, Hiroki stood back up. He gazed down at Megumi for a time, then turned and hurried back to the living room. It was almost eleven a.m.
25 STUDENTS REMAIN.
Time quietly passed. Beside Shuya, Kawada continued to smoke without a word, and Noriko too remained silent. Now and then birds exchanged their calls through the thicket. Overhead, leaves swayed in the breeze and cast their mesh of sweeping, pendular patterns of light over the three students. If Shuya listened hard enough, he could hear the sound of waves from the sea. He had grown comfortable in this space in the grove and its convincing illusion of tranquility.
The hope of escape, from his conversation with Kawada, doubtlessly provided this feeling. And the plan called for them to do nothing but wait. Despite Noriko's injuries, they were safe as long as they kept up their guard. After all, they were three with two guns.
But Shuya couldn't stop thinking about the distant gunshots that had come an hour before.
Has someone else died? If so, it could have been Shinji Mimura or Hiroki Sugimura, though Shuya hated to admit it. Even if it hadn't been one of his friends, it could have been another of his innocent classmates. He and Noriko might be saved thanks to Kawada, but everyone else could be terrified in this moment, and dead in the next.
As Shuya thought this, he couldn't help but feel distressed. Of course, he hadn't forgotten what Kawada had said—remaining still was the best strategy. Shuya knew Kawada was correct. And with Noriko's injury, if they went on the move, they'd make for prime targets. Again he knew Kawada was correct.
But was remaining there, just the three of them in peace and safety, really the right thing to do? Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano decided to have faith in the others, even when they had no expectation of escape. His group, on the other hand, had a means of escape—at least if Kawada was to be believed. So shouldn't they at least take a chance?
Certainly one person had already killed—willfully killed. Shuya had witnessed Yumiko's and Yukiko's execution. And other such murderers might be among his classmates. Possibly like the ones he'd encountered—Yoshio Akamatsu, Tatsumichi Oki, and Kyoichi Motobuchi. He could never expect someone like that to join his group. Or a person like that might act friendly, only to kill them when the right moment came.
At the very least, shouldn't they do something to find the ones they could trust?
But even if they did, knowing exactly who they could trust was impossible. If they tried to save everyone they could, one of their would-be enemies might slip into their group. That would mean certain death—and not just for himself, but for Noriko and Kawada as well.
In the end, all Shuya could do was sigh. His mind was chasing itself. No matter how many times he thought it through, the conclusion was the same. He couldn't do anything. The best he could hope for was to stumble across Shinji Mimura or Hiroki Sugimura by chance. And what were the odds of that?
"Hey," Kawada said as he lit up another cigarette. Shuya looked over to him.
"Don't think about it so much," Kawada said. "Thinking's no use. Just concentrate on yourself and Noriko."
Shuya raised his eyebrows. "What are you, a mind reader?"
"Sometimes. Especially when the weather's nice like today." Kawada took a drag from the cigarette. Then, as a thought suddenly came to him, he looked at Shuya and said, "Was that true?"
"What?"
"What Sakamochi said—that you have 'ideological problems.'"
"Oh." Shuya dropped his eyes, then nodded. "That."
"What did you do?"
Kawada's eyes took on a hint of mischief, and Shuya returned the look.
He could think of two possibilities as to what Sakamochi had meant. The first was that when he graduated to junior high, he joined the music club and the baseball team, but was turned off by the baseball team's underlying militaristic discipline and obsession with winning. (This was no surprise, as baseball was the Republic's national pastime, with performances in international tournaments putting the country's dignity on the line. Unfortunately, the sport was also popular in the hated American Empire, and when the Republic's Olympic team lost to the imperialists in the finals, the league's managers would have to prepare themselves to commit harakiri.]
Their coach, Mr. Minato, had repeatedly harassed the kids who joined because they loved baseball but weren't any good at it. And when Shuya announced he was quitting two weeks later, he lost his temper, and slipped and cursed out Mr. Minato and the Republic National Baseball League.
And so this former golden rookie of Shiroiwa Junior High embarked on his path to becoming (according to himself) a rising rock star. This left a giant black mark on his school record. But Kawada might have been referring to a certain something else . . .
"Nothing," Shuya said, shaking his head. "He was probably just talking about how I like rock. He must have had a problem with me being in the music club."
Kawada chuckled and gave him a knowing nod. "That's right, you play guitar. That's what got you into rock?"
"No, I listened to rock, which got me into the guitar. When I was in the orphanage ..."
Shuya recalled the handyman, in his forties, who had been employed at the House of Mercy and Love until three years back. He was upbeat, with thinning hair that turned up at the back of his neck (he'd called it a ducktail). Now, he was in a forced labor camp up in South Karafuto. None of the children, not even Shuya and Yoshitoki, knew why. When he said goodbye to them, he didn't explain. He only said, "I'll come back, Shuya, Yoshitoki. I'll just be swinging my pickaxe, singing 'Jailhouse Rock' for a little while first." He gave his old, self-winding watch to Yoshitoki, and his Gibson electric guitar to Shuya—Shuya's first guitar. Shuya wondered if the man was still doing all right. He'd heard that people sent to the forced labor camps often died from overwork and undernourishment.
Shuya explained, "Someone gave me a tape. He also gave me his electric guitar."
"Hmm." Kawada nodded. "Do you have a favorite? Dylan? Lennon? Or maybe Lou Reed?"
Shuya stared at him, somewhat surprised. "You know a lot."
Getting hold of actual rock music in the Republic of Greater East Asia wasn't easy. An organization called the Popular Music Judgment Society strictly monitored foreign music. Most anything even resembling rock and roll never made it through customs and was treated like an illegal drug. (He'd even seen a poster in the town hall with a staged photo of a long-haired, sleazy-looking rock-and-roller plastered over with that diagonal slash from a no parking sign and the text stop the rock. Nice one, guys.) Supposedly, the Peach Government didn't much care for the rousing beat, but Shuya thought it was the lyrics more than anything. The aforementioned Bob Marley was one example, but a classic example would be the chorus of Lennon's "Imagine," about dreamers. How could this nation not consider lyrics like that a threat?
In the record stores, nearly all the albums for sale were of the vapid, domestically produced pop idol sort. The most extreme imported music Shuya had ever seen was Frank Sinatra—that was the extent of it. (Well, maybe this country could stand to give "My Way" a listen.)
For a while, Shuya had thought the ducktailed handyman had been sent to the labor camp because of this, and he regarded the tapes and guitar the man had left behind as objects to be feared. But it seemed that he had been wrong. When he moved up to junior high and entered the music club, a fair number of the others also liked rock music a
nd had electric guitars. (Kazumi Shintani was a huge rock fan, of course.) Through his new connections, Shuya was able to obtain dubs of The Times They Are-a-Changin'and Stand!
But this all remained within only a trusted circle of friends. If all the students in Shiroiwa Junior High were asked if they had ever listened to rock music, more than nine in ten would likely say they hadn't. (Actually, every one of them would say they hadn't, since even those who had heard rock music would obviously never admit it.) With Kawada's previous displays of his extensive knowledge, Shuya wouldn't have been surprised if he'd had some mere passing familiarity with rock music. But Dylan and Lennon were extremely serious stuff.
"Don't look so shocked," Kawada said. "I'm a city boy from Kobe.
I'm no Kagawa hick. I'm going to know something about rock."
Shuya showed him a sneer and said, "You just had to go there." His gloominess had lifted just a little. "I like Springsteen. Van Morrison's not bad either."
Without skipping a beat, Kawada said, "'Born to Run' is a good one. As for Morrison, I like 'Whenever God Shines His Light.'"
Shuya's eyes widened again, and he felt himself grinning. "You know a lot!"
Kawada smiled back. "I told you. I'm a city boy."
Shuya noticed that Noriko had been keeping quiet. Worried that she might be feeling excluded, he asked her, "Didn't you say you've never heard rock music?"
Noriko gave him a small smile and shook her head. "I'm not that familiar with it. What's it sound like?"
Shuya grinned. "The lyrics are wonderful. I'm not very good at describing it, but it's a kind of music where people really express their troubles. Sometimes it's about love, of course, but other times they sing about politics, or society, or the way we live our lives, or even life itself. They have the words, and use the melody and beat to express them. Take Springsteen's 'Born to Run'..."
Shuya knew the song's ending by heart.
Then he added, "It goes like this," and sang the last line softly.
He looked at Noriko and said, "We'll listen to it together some time."
Her eyes went a little wide and she nodded. Another time, and she might have been beaming at him, but all she could offer was a frail smile. Shuya was too exhausted himself to notice something was wrong.
He told Kawada, "If everyone listened to more rock and roll, we'd be better off. This country would never last."
He thought back to what Noriko had said earlier, that the people didn't stand up to the government because nobody knew anything. He figured that all those important things that were kept from the people were inside rock music, and that was precisely why the government banned it.
Kawada's Wild Seven cigarette had burned down to the stub, and he leisurely rubbed it into the dirt. Then he lit a fresh one and said, "Hey, Shuya."
"What?"
He let out a slow puff of smoke and said, "Do you really think rock has that kind of power—power enough to be feared by the government?"
Shuya nodded deeply. "It does."
Kawada gazed into the boy's face, then looked away and shook his head. "I'm not so sure. I get the feeling it's just a way for us to vent our frustrations. Sure, it's illegal or whatever, but anyone who wants to listen to rock can find a way. It's an outlet. This country's crafty like that. Who knows, they might start to encourage it one of these days—as a tool, you see."
Shuya felt stunned, like he'd been slapped in the face. Rock was Shuya's religion. Music was his Bible, and Springsteen and Van Morrison were the apostles. Granted, he had gotten used to being shocked thanks to the indiscriminate killings of his classmates, so this was a comparatively minor blow.
Deflated, Shuya slowly said, "You think?"
Kawada nodded several times. "Yeah. But what bothers me is that rock isn't something to be banned or encouraged. It's not that kind of thing. People who want to listen to rock will listen to rock when they feel like listening to rock. Right?"
Shuya pondered this for a while, then said, "I hadn't thought of it that way. But I can see where you're coming from." Then he added, "You're something, Kawada. You're really perceptive."
Kawada shrugged.
They fell silent for a while.
Then Shuya said, "But..."
Kawada, who was unwrapping a new pack of cigarettes, looked at him.
Shuya continued, "I do think rock has power, after all—a positive force."
That was what Noriko had said about him.
Kawada grinned. He put a cigarette in the corner of his mouth and lit it, then said, "To tell you the truth, Nanahara, I think so too."
Shuya returned his grin.
"It's ironic," Kawada said. "We're in that exact situation." "What's that?" Shuya asked.
"All we can do now is run. We were born to”
25 STUDENTS REMAIN.
Kaori Minami (Girls #20) lifted herself to a crouch when she heard the faint rustling noise. She was slightly to the east of the island's center (sector F-8 on the map), within the mixed woodland near the base of the northern mountain.
She adjusted her grip on her pistol, a SIG-Sauer P230 .380 ACP. Despite its diminutive size, it felt large in Kaori's hands.
Without knowing it, Kaori gnawed at her lip. Many times she had heard similar sounds since hiding here at the start of the game. Every time, after realizing the noise had been only a trick of the wind or from some small animal (maybe even a stray cat?), she had been able to calm herself down. But she hadn't gotten used to it. The many scabbed-over wounds on her lip, from where she bit it, were joined by a fresh cut. This time ... it might be an enemy. An enemy. Her classmates were coming to get her. The image of Mayumi Tendo's and Yoshio Akamatsu's bodies, seen at the moment she left the school, remained vivid in her mind.
And when she stepped out those doors, she heard a voice call to her from the woods ahead. She thought it sounded like Yukie Utsumi, the class leader. Kaori spied other shadowy figures beside Yukie in the darkness of the undergrowth. She thought she heard Yukie say, in a hushed yet sharp whisper, "Kaori! Come join us. We're all girls. You'll be safe with us!"
But joining them was out of the question. In these circumstances, no one could possibly trust anyone else. Once she was with them, she'd never know when they might catch her off guard. Ignoring Yukie's appeals to stop her, she turned and ran in another direction. And that brought her here. But now, this time, was it an enemy? Was that the sound?
She gripped her pistol tightly in both hands and waited. But the sound stopped.
She waited a little longer. Nothing.
Kaori let out a sigh of relief and lowered herself back into the undergrowth. A crooked leaf brushed against her cheek, and annoyed, she shifted her position. With the palm of her hand, she rubbed at the spot where the leaf had touched her. Pimples were bad enough; the last thing she needed was some rash making her face all puffy. Even if she was going to die anyway, she didn't need that.
Her thoughts sent a chill down her spine. Am I going to die? Me? Die?
The realization set her heart beating faster. It was almost enough to give her a heart attack.
Am I going to die? Am I going to die? She heard the words in the back of her head like a ringing in her ears or some second-rate CD player unable to read past the scratches on the disc, skipping over and over. Am I going to die?
Almost frantically, Kaori reached into the top of her sailor uniform and clutched at the brass locket she wore around her neck. She pulled it out and opened it, and the cheerful face with the long hair smiled out at her.
As she stared at the picture in the locket, her heart rate finally began to settle down, gradually returning to its previous pace.
The photo was of Junya Kenzaki, the most popular member of the boy band Flipside. The locket was only given to members of their fan club, and Kaori was proud to know she was the only girl in
Shiroiwa to have one. (Of course, most girls these days would only shake their heads at it. If nothing else, lockets were passe. But Kaori didn't think
so.)
Oh, funya. I'll be fine, won't I? You'll protect me.
His picture seemed to be telling her, “ You'll be fine ” ("Of course you'll be fine. Now, how about I sing your favorite song, 'Galactic Magnum'?”}
Kaori's breathing had steadied, and she asked the photo, Hey, Junya. Do you think I should have joined Yukie? Would there have been a way out for me? No, of course not.
Suddenly, she was crying.
Why was this happening? She wanted to see her mom. She wanted to see her dad and her sister and her kind grandma and grandpa. She wanted to take a bath and to rub acne cream on her face, and to sit on that comfy sofa in the living room and drink hot cocoa while she watched her VHS of Flipside's TV special. (Even though she'd already seen it many, many times.)
"Junya," she said, "protect me. Please. I—I feel like I'm going crazy."
Hearing herself say that aloud, Kaori thought she really was going insane. Freaked out, she felt nausea rising in her stomach. She cried even harder.
A rustling sound came from behind, and she jumped. This noise was far louder than before.
Her eyes still clouded with tears, she quickly turned.
A boy in a school uniform was peering at her through the bushes. It was Hiroki Sugimura (Boys #11). He snuck up behind me—without me noticing!
Overcome by terror, she raised her gun without thought and squeezed the trigger. Letting out a pop, the weapon kicked against her wrists. The brass shell spun through the air, glittering in the sunlight that filtered through the leaves.
Hiroki had already disappeared deep into the foliage. The rustling continued, then abruptly disappeared.
Kaori trembled as she held her pistol at the ready. Then she snatched up her belongings and ran into the brush in the opposite direction. As she ran, her mind formed disoriented thoughts. Hiroki Sugimura was trying to kill me. I know he was. If not, why would he have snuck up behind me without a saying a word? He must not have had a gun. And when he saw that I did, he panicked and fled. If I hadn't noticed him—and if I hadn't fired so quickly—he would have stuck a knife or something right into my chest—a knife! I have to stay on my toes. I have to shoot the moment I see someone. If I show any mercy, I'll be killed. Killed! Dead!