I've had enough of this. I want to go home. Bath. Acne cream. Cocoa! Videotape. Flipside. Junya. No mercy. Shoot. Shoot! Cocoa. Junya. Acne! Cream! No mercy. Junya.
Tears streamed from her eyes. The locket remained open, flopping against the chest of her sailor fuku, Junya Kenzaki's bright face swinging wildly up and down and left and right.
No mercy. Junya. I'll be killed! Shoot. Mother. Sister! Father. Shoot! Shoot! The new album debut!
Kaori was losing her mind.
25 STUDENTS REMAIN.
"... And that's all the students who have died," Sakamochi's cheerful voice was saying for the noon announcement.
The new additions on the waiting list for their funerals were Tatsumichi Oki, Kyoichi Motobuchi, and of course, Yukiko Kitano and Yumiko Kusaka. Yoji Kuramoto and Yoshimi Yahagi had also died.
"I'll now report the forbidden zones beginning this afternoon. Now please take notes. Take notes, now."
Shuya took out his map and a pen. Kawada also had his map out.
"First off, from one o'clock is J-5. Then from three, H-3. From five is D-8. Did you get that?"
J-5 was on the southeastern shore, H-3 was near the southern mountain's summit, and D-8 was the southeastern ascent of the northern mountain. Their location, C-3, hadn't been announced. They could get by without moving for a little longer.
"Everyone, I know it might be rough having your friends die, but you have to keep your spirits up. If you're too scared to spread your baby wings, you'll never soar. Bye now!"
Having spewed out another round of blithe platitudes, Sakamochi ended his report.
With a sigh, Shuya put away his map and stared at his check-marked class roster. "We're already down to twenty-five. Damn it."
Kawada put a fresh cigarette between his lips and cupped his hand around its end as he put a light to it. Then he said, "It's like I told you. They're gonna keep on dying like they're supposed to."
Shuya looked up at Kawada, who exhaled smoke, returning the stare. Shuya understood what he meant. The more their classmates died, the closer the three came to their opportunity for escape—and the farther they became from the time limit.
Shuya said, "You shouldn't talk like that."
Kawada merely shrugged. Then he averted his eyes. "Sorry."
Shuya felt like saying more, but he made himself tear his eyes away from Kawada. He pulled up his knees and looked between them. A few tiny yellow flowers peeked out through the leaves. An ant crawled up one of their stalks.
What bothered Shuya was this: when they had been talking about rock, Shuya felt almost as if they had actually become good friends. But something within Kawada kept the boy from getting close. Was he simply aloof by nature?
Shuya let out a quiet sigh. Then he moved his thoughts to another subject. Of the six names Sakamochi had announced, the only ones whose deaths he hadn't personally witnessed were Yoji Kuramoto and Yoshimi Yahagi. He was pretty sure they had been going out. Did that mean they were together on the island? And then there were those two gunshots he'd heard just past eleven. Had those shots done the couple in? Then who was the shooter?
He thought back to the sound of the machine gun that had killed Yukiko Kitano and Yumiko Kusaka. Was it the same person, or .. .
"Nanahara," Kawada said, getting his attention. "You haven't eaten breakfast yet, have you? The government bread is shit, but I grabbed some strawberry jam and coffee from the general store. Let's eat."
From his daypack, Kawada withdrew a squat glass jar, its contents shiny and deep red and its label illustrated with strawberries, along with a slim can (two hundred grams worth) of instant coffee. Shuya figured the coffee was destined for the empty can that Kawada had filled with water and left to boil over a fresh pile of lit charcoal. Kawada then took out a pack of plastic cups.
"You definitely loaded up."
"Yeah." Kawada nodded, then dug back into his bag and presented a rectangular box. "Look, a whole carton of Wild Sevens."
Shuya decided to cheer up. He made a slight grin and nodded, then took the bread from his daypack.
He offered one of the rolls to Noriko, saying, "You should eat too."
"Oh." Still hugging her knees, Noriko looked up. "I'm . . .fine. I'm not that hungry."
"You're not hungry? What's wrong?"
As she looked down again, Shuya noticed her pale face. Now that he thought about it, he realized she'd been keeping awfully quiet.
"Noriko?"
Shuya moved over to her. Kawada watched them as he continued working at the top of the coffee can.
"Noriko."
Shuya put his hand on her shoulder. Her hands were clenched around her knees. Only now did Shuya notice her pallid face and her pinched lips, with only a tiny gap from which her pained breaths hissed out. Noriko closed her eyes and put her hands on Shuya's arm, leaning on him a bit.
Her hand, and her shoulder, through the black fabric of her sailor fuku, felt hot. Shuya reached out with his right hand and gently lifted her bangs to feel her forehead.
She was burning up. Her cold sweat dampened his palm.
Flustered, he looked over his shoulder to Kawada. "She has a fever, Kawada!"
Feebly, Noriko said, "I'm . . . fine."
Kawada rested the coffee can at his feet and stood. He traded places with Shuya and put his hand to her forehead. He rubbed his stubbled chin, then took her wrist and looked at his watch. He must have been reading her pulse.
"Sorry about this," Kawada said, and gently placed his fingers to her lips and opened her mouth. Then he pulled down the skin under her eyes and examined behind her lower eyelid.
Then he asked her, "Do you feel cold?"
Her eyes were half lidded, but she managed to nod. "Yeah ... a little."
"Nanahara," Kawada said.
Shuya had been watching, holding his breath. Distressed, he asked, "How is she?"
"Just give me your coat," Kawada said, removing his own. Shuya hurriedly stripped off his own and handed it to Kawada, who carefully wrapped the two coats around Noriko's body.
"The bread, Nanahara. And the jam and some water."
Shuya hurriedly grabbed the roll he'd offered her, his bottle of water, and the jar of jam from atop Kawada's daypack. He gave Kawada the bread and water, then opened the jar of jam and handed it over. Kawada wedged the roll into the jar and covered it with the red jam. He held it out to Noriko and said, "You need to eat this, Noriko."
"Yeah, but. . ."
"No buts. Just a little bite."
Noriko's unsteady hand took the roll, and she took a couple nibbles. She seemed to have to force it down her throat. She gave the rest back to Kawada.
"Can't have any more, huh?"
She gave a slight shake of her head. Even such a small gesture appeared to be an effort.
Kawada looked like he wanted her to eat more, but he gave up for now, setting the bread aside. He then took his pouch of pills.
"This is cold medicine," he said. "Take it."
He handed her a capsule different from the pain reliever he'd given her that morning. She nodded, and with Kawada's help, she swallowed it with some water from the bottle. Some of the liquid spilled from her mouth, and Kawada gently wiped it away with his handkerchief.
"Okay, Noriko," he said. "Now lie down."
She bobbed her head and lay down on the grass, with the two coats still wrapped around her.
Anxious, Shuya asked, "What is it, Kawada? Is she okay?"
Kawada shook his head. "I can't tell for sure. It might just be a cold. But her wound might have gotten infected. Just maybe."
"What?" Shuya looked down at the bandana bandage around Noriko's right calf. "But didn't we do everything right?"
Kawada shook his head. "Right after she was shot, she did a lot of walking through the woods, yeah? Some germs could have gotten inside the wound during that time."
Shuya stared at Kawada for a while, then knelt back down next to Noriko. He reached out for her forehead. "Noriko . .
."
She opened her eyes and gave him a feeble smile. "I'm all right. Just... a little tired. Don't worry."
But from her shallow breaths, Shuya didn't think she was anywhere near all right.
Shuya looked over his shoulder at Kawada again. Somehow managing to restrain the anxiety in his voice, he said, "Kawada. We can't stay here. We need to go someplace else—like a house, or something, to warm her and—"
Kawada interrupted him with a shake of his head. "Hold on. For now, let's wait and see how she does."
Kawada adjusted her makeshift blanket of coats so that no gaps remained.
"But—"
"I told you before. Moving isn't safe."
Noriko cracked her eyelids open. She looked at Shuya and said, "I'm sorry, Shuya ..." Then to Kawada, she said, "I'm so sorry." She closed her eyes again.
Shuya pressed his lips together and watched her pale face.
25 STUDENTS REMAIN.
Takako Chigusa (Girls #13) peeked out from behind the tree trunk. She was on the slope of the southern mountain, to the east of the summit, somewhere near the border of H-4 and H-5 on her map. A diverse mixture of trees both tall and short comprised the forest around her, though the trees gradually grew shorter up the ascent, in the direction Takako now looked.
She took a good grip on the weapon she'd been supplied, an ice pick. Crouching, she looked once more over her shoulder.
Obscured by the woods now, the house where she'd been hiding was no longer in sight. Dilapidated and overgrown with tall weeds, the house seemed to have been abandoned even before the island had been chosen for the Program. Attached to its side was a smaller structure—a chicken shack, maybe—and even its rusty metal roof lay beyond her sight. How far had she come? Two hundred meters? Or only one hundred? As the star short-distance runner on the Shiroiwa Junior High track team (she held the second fastest time in the prefecture for the Girls' Junior High Two-Hundred-Meter Dash), she had gained an almost innate sense for that particular distance, but with the rolling mountainside and the vegetation—not to mention the stress—she could no longer tell.
After finishing her lunch of water and that awful government bread, Takako made up her mind to leave the house once her watch read one o'clock. Hiding herself in the corner of the abandoned structure, she had heard what she thought to be gunshots several times since the game began. But she decided that hiding would do nothing to improve her situation. She needed to find someone—a friend she could trust—and work together.
She knew that not everyone she trusted would necessarily trust her, but. . .
Takako was good-looking. Her long, tapered eyes may have seemed a little severe, but they suited her sharp chin, firm lips, and the well-defined profile of her nose. All together they gave her an aristocratic look. At first glance, her long, brown, highlighted hair might not have matched her appearance, but that along with her accessories—two piercings in her left ear and one in her right, rings on her middle and ring fingers of her left hand, five bracelets between her two wrists, and a pendant fashioned from a foreign coin—asserted her own look that accentuated her beauty. Her teachers didn't seem to care much for her hair or her gaudy, B-grade accessories, but they had never once directly scolded the girl, who was sheltered by her good grades and, more importantly, her status as the track team's star runner. Consequently, Takako was conceited and had a reputation for flouting those silly little school rules to which the other girls had to adhere.
Whether due to her beauty or her pride, or because she was simply shy, Takako had few close friends in her class. Her best friend, Kahoru Kitazawa, she'd known since elementary school, but she was in a different class.
She had one classmate, only one, whom she could absolutely trust. Not a girl, but a boy. Only one boy. They'd been friends since they were little.
That related to a subject that now weighed heavily on her mind.
When she was about to leave the school, Takako thought that one of her classmates who'd left earlier could have returned, weapon in hand. To be safe, she couldn't carelessly stroll out through the sole exit. She had to act in a way that her supposed ambusher wouldn't expect, and she had to get away from the school as quickly as possible.
So after Takako left the classroom and stepped into the hallway, she stood at the side of the entrance and surveyed the outside. Woods lay ahead, a mountain on her left, and a relatively open space on her right. The ambusher, if there was one, would be hiding in the woods ahead or the slope on the left.
She ducked through the doorway and sidled along the outer wall of the school, then sprinted off to the right, making a mad dash, unleashing the power of those prized track-runner legs. Moving purely on instinct, she ran along the road that passed through the village, threw herself into an alleyway, and dashed for the foot of the southern mountain. Her only thought was to hurry away from that school and to find a place to hide.
But.
What if in those woods in front of the school, or up toward the mountain, had been someone who wasn't going to attack her? In other words . . . what if . . . he had been hiding in those woods or that mountainside, waiting just for her? When she ran away full tilt, had she lost her chance to find him?
. . .No.
Takako didn't think so. That would have been impossible. Everyone would have known that lingering around that school was dangerous. They'd known each other their whole lives, but that was the extent of their connection. They were just friends, never too close or too distant. He—that is, Hiroki Sugimura (Boys #11)—would never endanger himself to wait for her. That she had even considered he might have was only a figment of her arrogance, and nothing more.
For now, she needed to find someone. Ideally, that person would be Hiroki Sugimura, but she knew that was too optimistic. If not him, then the class leader, Yukie Utsumi, would do, or any of those other plain girls. If she was careful not to get shot right off the bat, she could talk to them. Takako hoped she would run into someone who was still calm. (Though she had the feeling that anyone too calm in a situation like this was the most dangerous.) But all she could do for now was search.
Even still, Takako knew not to shout. She'd seen the proof of that. From that abandoned house, she had watched Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano die atop the northern mountain.
Her idea was to leave her hiding place in the abandoned house and head for the top of the southern mountain. If she made it that far, she could spiral her way back down, all the while checking the bushes to see if someone was hiding inside. She figured that tossing handfuls of little rocks into the undergrowth would do the trick and had been doing so since she left the house. Once she saw who was there, she could decide whether or not to announce herself. According to Sakamochi's noon announcement, the area around the summit would be a forbidden zone starting at three o'clock. But if everything went well, she'd be able to perform a complete survey of the sector by then. And anyone who was up there would have to leave before three. Someone on the move would be much easier for her to spot.
Takako checked her provisioned wristwatch, which read 1:20. With all the bracelets she typically wore, she hardly ever used a watch, but she didn't have a choice now. She touched her hand to the shackle around her neck.
"And if you try to force it loose, it'll explode."
Not only did the collar dig into her skin and stifle her breath, its very presence pulled her down. The chain of her pendant clinked against the metal collar.
Takako pushed it from her mind and gripped her ice pick (not that she saw much use to a weapon like that). She took some pebbles from her pocket and scattered them into the undergrowth in front of her and to the sides.
The stones rustled through the leaves.
She waited. Nothing. She moved forward and let out her breath. She prepared herself to set foot into the next clearing on the way up the mountain.
Suddenly, she heard a rustling. Ten meters to her left, a head poked out from the bushes. She could see the back of his uniform coat and hi
s tousled yet smooth hair. His head turned to the left, then to the right.
Surprised, Takako froze in place. This is trouble. A boy. Boys are always trouble. This thought was without any particular basis, but Takako felt that way about every boy aside from Hiroki Sugimura. And she knew this wasn't Hiroki.
Takako held her breath and slowly stepped back into the thicket. Expecting this possibility did nothing to quell her trembling now that it had happened.
The boy swiftly turned. Their eyes met. The astonished face belonged to Kazushi Niida (Boys #16).
Oh, shit. Of all people, it had to be him.
Her first concern was that she had left herself completely exposed to him. Regardless of anything else, that was a danger. She turned on her heels and ran back the way she'd come.
Kazushi's voice came from behind. "Wait."
She could hear him wading through the thicket after her.
"Hey, wait!" He was shouting now. "Wait!"
Ugh, that idiot.
For a few seconds, Takako weighed her options, then finally decided to stop. She turned to face him. She figured that if he'd had a gun or something like that and meant to shoot her, he would have already. That made his loud voice the biggest threat. Kazushi wouldn't only get himself discovered, but her along with him. She glanced around but saw, as she had confirmed when she'd passed through moments before, no signs that anyone else was around.
Slowing, Kazushi descended the gentle slope.
As he approached, Takako noticed he was carrying what looked like a rifle with a bow attached to its end. He's not pointing it at me, but if he does, can I dodge his shot and get away again ? Was stopping a mistake!
No, she told herself. Kazushi Niida was a forward on the soccer team. Top ballgame athletes like him were often faster than top track runners. Even if she was the fastest among the girls, he would have eventually caught up with her.
Battle Royale (Remastered) Page 23