Authors: Koushun Takami
After five or six bullets tore through the wall…the gunfire stopped…because he saw no one there.
Now was his chance. Hiroki swung his stick up and leaped onto Kazuo Kiriyama from above. At the last instant he'd decided to climb to the top of the high shelf installed beside the door. He'd decided against using the gun since he wasn't used to it and had tucked it away again. The important thing was to stop the assailant—who turned out to be Kazuo Kiriyama—from shooting anymore.
Kazuo responded by looking up. He lifted the muzzle of his machine gun, but the handle of the broom Hiroki held struck Kazuo's wrist. The Ingram M10 9mm crashed onto the floor, slid, and stopped beyond the table where Satomi Noda was.
Kazuo tried to pull out another gun (it was a large automatic pistol, different from the revolver Toshinori Oda had), but Hiroki, who'd landed and balanced himself, quickly swung the tip of his stick and struck this gun down too.
A rapid assault! I'll strike him down!
The stick came swinging down, but Kazuo quickly bent back and somersaulted backwards. He leaped over Yukie Utsumi's body with the grace of a kung fu master, and after tumbling once he was standing in front of the center table. By the time he was standing he had a revolver in his right hand, the one that belonged to Toshinori Oda.
But even Kazuo couldn't have foreseen Hiroki's agility. He'd immediately moved within eighty centimeters of Kazuo.
"Yahh!" Hiroki swung his stick, striking the gun in Kazuo's hand three times. It flew into the air. Before it landed on the floor, the other end of Hiroki's stick swung at Kazuo's face. There was a table behind Kazuo. He couldn't retreat anymore.
But—the stick stopped several centimeters before hitting Kazuo's face. A third of the stick flew by Kazuo's face. Strangely enough, he only heard it crack later. Kazuo had chopped off the stick with his left hand.
The next moment, Kazuo formed a spear fist with his right hand to strike Hiroki in the face. He was aiming for Hiroki's eyes.
It was a miracle he managed to duck and dodge it. That was how fast Kazuo's fist was.
But Hiroki had managed to dodge it. When he dodged it, he grabbed Kazuo's wrist with his hand that had dropped the stick. The next moment, he twisted his wrist back. Simultaneously, he kneed Kazuo in the stomach with all his might. The absolutely calm Kazuo gasped slightly.
With his left hand restraining Kazuo's arm, Hiroki pulled out his gun and cocked the hammer back. He pressed the gun against Kazuo's stomach and pulled the trigger.
He kept on pulling the trigger until he used up all his bullets. With every shot Kazuo's body flinched.
When the gun's breechblock held up, the eighth shell fell onto the floor with a clink, rolled, and then clicked against another shell.
He could feel Kazuo's right arm and the rest of his body slowly going limp. His slicked-back hair and the rest of his head fell forward. Once Hiroki let go, Kazuo's body would slide against corner of the table and fall onto the floor.
But right now Hiroki stood still facing Kazuo as if dancing a strange dance, panting, his chest heaving.
I won.
He won against
the
Kazuo Kiriyama. The Kazuo Kiriyama whose athletic prowess was probably superior to Shinji Mimura or Shuya Nanahara's, who'd never lost a fight as far as he knew. He'd defeated him.
I defeated—
Suddenly a sharp pain pierced the right side of Hiroki's stomach. He groaned, gasped…then opened his eyes wide.
Kazuo was looking up at Hiroki. And in his left hand…was a knife digging into Hiroki's stomach.
Hiroki slowly shifted his eyes from this hand over to Kazuo's face. Kazuo stared back with eyes that were as always beautiful and cold.
How…could he still be alive?
Of course it was because Kazuo Kiriyama was wearing Toshinori Oda's bulletproof vest, but Hiroki couldn't have known, and right now there wasn't much point trying to figure this out.
Kazuo twisted the knife and Hiroki moaned. His left hand's grip on Kazuo's right wrist was loosening.
Oh no, this is not good…at all.
But Hiroki managed to squeeze some strength out into his arm. He swung down his right hand that was still holding the emptied gun.
His bent right elbow struck Kazuo's lower chin.
Kazuo flew back and slid across the white table covered with blood. The blood stain that resembled the Republic of Greater East Asia's national flag now looked more like the stripes of the American flag.
Simultaneously, the knife in Hiroki's stomach, after tearing off approximately thirty grams of Hiroki's flesh, was torn out. Blood came bursting out. Hiroki gasped, but immediately turned on his heel and ran to the door leading out to the hall.
Right as he was entering it he heard gunfire, and the door frame cracked open. Kazuo didn't have any time to pick up the guns scattered on the floor. So he must have had a fourth gun (probably attached under his pants, tied to his ankle or something).
Hiroki ran, ignoring the gunfire.
He leaped over the scattered pile of chairs and desks. Right before he emerged outside he heard that all-too-familiar machine gun fire, but the shots missed him because he was crouched over.
The sky was cloudy enough to expect rain, but for some reason it looked bright to him.
Hiroki ran as fast as he could into the grove beyond the gate where the light truck was parked. He left behind a trail of red spots on the white sand.
He heard the machine gun rattle again, but by then he'd leaped into the grove.
Of course he couldn't afford to rest now.
8 students remaining
66
It began to drizzle. Rain washed over the bushes covering the island, and in the dim light a dark sheen fell through the drops of water and thick clouds.
Shuya slowly wove his way through the bushes. The area to his right was open and offered him a view of the sea, which was dull gray behind the white curtain of rain.
He now wore his shirt, school coat, and sneakers, which he found in the room where Yukie's group was.
Raindrops falling off tree branches dripped onto his coat. He had the Uzi slung over his shoulder, his right hand on the grip, and kept the CZ75 tucked in front. The Browning and the bullets he'd collected were inside the day pack on his shoulder.
Shuya left the lighthouse immediately, and as he'd expected fifteen minutes later, right when he began collecting wood to build a fire on a cliff near the northern tip of the island, he heard gunfire coming from the lighthouse. Despite the fact that the massacre of Yukie's group had occurred inside the lighthouse, he surmised at least two students had arrived upon hearing the shots and ended up fighting.
After some hesitation, Shuya started heading back to the lighthouse. It sounded like the all-too-familiar gunfire of Kazuo Kiriyama's machine gun. He doubted Noriko and Shogo would go out of their way to follow the gunfire, but there weren't too many students left. Supposing one was Kazuo, there was a good chance the other was Hiroki Sugimura. Of course, it also could have been Mitsuko Souma.
But the gunfire ceased immediately. Shuya stopped. He decided not to return to the lighthouse after all.
Even if he went back, there wouldn't be anyone there. Or at best there might be another corpse in addition to the bodies of Yukie's group.
It began raining when Shuya had finished preparing two fires on the cliff rock. He found a lighter in the lighthouse, but it was difficult to get the fire going because of the rain.
The rain grew heavy, so Shuya gave up and left the area. Noriko and Shogo probably hadn't moved much. C=3 was forbidden, but the adjacent D=3 and C=4 were still safe. They were probably in that area, so he could make another fire once he was in the vicinity.
With this thought in mind he began walking. That was when we heard the distant chirping sound of a bird as he turned westward on the north shore of the island around 2:30 p.m. Shuya listened closely…and quickly glanced down at his watch. The seconds hand moved seven degrees, and the faint chirping stopped. Shogo had said fifteen seconds. Given the time it took for him to look at his watch, its duration corresponded to that length of time. Besides, he doubted there were many birds chirping in the rain. And he heard none of those little birds that he'd heard during the day ever since the game began.
Shuya continued along the northwest shore of the island—and once again heard the same chirping. This time it was clear. Exactly fifteen minutes had elapsed since the last one—and it stopped exactly fifteen seconds later. It was Shogo. There was no need for the smoke signal. Shogo was using the bird call.
The third fake chirping occurred only three minutes ago. It sounded close. According to the map, Shuya was moving from B=6 to B=5.
Shuya rested a little, tucked the Uzi's barrel under his left wrist, and lifted his left arm. It was easier that way because he didn't have to exert his muscles. The watch hands, out of focus from the raindrops against the glass, indicated it was 3:05 p.m.
The chirping sounded closer to the mountain than it was to the sea. Shuya glanced at the sea, then moved towards and then up the gentle slope. As he looked up, he noticed that the northern mountain in front of him looked different, which made him realize he'd been moving along the foot of the mountain and was now approaching the western shore.
Just a little more. He'd barely covered 1.5 kilometers, but he still felt woozy from all the blood he'd lost.
The pain in his body was so severe he felt like throwing up (he really had to stop and rest). But he was almost there. Almost.
He made his way through the grove and his fatigue became overwhelming. Of course…he could be attacked at any point from the bushes. But he couldn't afford to worry about that. If that happened…he would just have to pull the trigger of the Uzi.
The low bushes became sparse and then were cut off. Shuya stood still. It wasn't as if there was someone holding a gun… but there was something strange in this narrow opening.
At first it looked like two stiff gray clumps to Shuya. On top of that, they seemed to be moving. He stared at them. There were black pants and sneakers poking out of these two clumps.
He realized they were corpses. Two boys had died here.
A flash of red color flew up from the stiff gray clump and cried, "KAW!" It was a large heron-sized bird, its head drenched in red. The birds were feeding on the corpses!
Shuya reflexively raised his Uzi at them. He put his finger against the trigger—but decided against it. He walked over.
The birds flapped their wings and flew away from the two corpses.
Shuya stood still in the rain by them…and lifted his right hand up to his mouth. He felt a sudden urge to vomit.
It was a chilling sight. The birds had picked away at their exposed faces. Their red flesh broke out of their skin. They were covered in blood.
Shuya held back his nausea and somehow managed to look at them. He saw they were probably Tadakatsu Hatagami and Yuichiro Takiguchi. Then he noticed something about Tadakatsu's face, which was in worse condition than Yuichiro's. The birds weren't responsible for his deformed skull. His nose, unharmed by the birds, was also crushed.
He looked around and found a bat lying on the grass. Even though it was washed by the rain, the tip of the bat was still tinged with red. Given the state of Tadakatsu's face, he was most likely beaten to death.
With the gear of his sport— a baseball bat.
Compared to him, Yuichiro's face was in relatively good shape. Of course… Shuya had a feeling his lips and eyeballs were gone by now.
One of the birds landed on top of Tadakatsu's face. Then several more birds came by. Given how Shuya remained frozen, they probably assumed they were safe.
Safe? You got to be kidding!
Shuya once again put his finger on the trigger of the Uzi…but restrained himself. The important thing was for him to get back to Shogo and Noriko.
More birds reappeared.
Were they feeding on the other bodies sprawled all over the island? Or was it just because they were near the sea?
Peeling his eyes off the two corpses, Shuya staggered around them and entered the bushes ahead. He heard the birds cry, "KAW!"
As he moved, he felt the urge to vomit once again. By now he was getting used to people dying, but the thought of these birds, these sky rats, feeding on them…I'll never sit on the beach and gaze peacefully at seagulls again. Even if I write my own songs, I'll never ever sing about birds. I might not even be able to eat chicken for a while. Man, birds… suck.
But then he heard that chirping sound again. He looked up. Large raindrops hit his face.
Ah—birds suck but…I guess a little bird's all right, huh?
Another full fifteen seconds passed and the chirping ceased. This time it sounded really close.
Shuya looked around. The bushes continued along the gentle slope. It must be…around here. They had to be somewhere near here. But…where?
Before he could think, the nausea he'd held back surged up. The two corpses, their faces messed up.
And their soft flesh would be the birds' afternoon snack. Yummy.
I can't puke. I'm weak enough as it is…but…
Shuya knelt down on the ground and vomited. Because he hadn't had anything to eat, it was all gastric juices. There was a sharp, acidic stench.
Shuya threw up more. A pinkish substance was mixed into the yellow liquid like a drop of paint. For all he knew, his stomach might be screwed up by now.
"Shuya."
He looked up. Reflexively, he pointed the Uzi over there. But the muzzle fell again.
Between the shrubs he saw that thuggish face. It was Shogo. In his left hand, Shogo held a bow which seemed to be carved out of wood, and in his right hand he was about to put down the arrow fixed to the bow. That was when Shuya realized, oh, I get it, I must have gotten caught on Shogo's tripwire.
"Hangover, huh?" Shogo said. His humorous remark was tinged with kindness.
There was a rustling sound. Noriko appeared behind Shogo. She gazed at Shuya through her rain-drenched hair, her eyes and mouth trembling.