Battle Royale (41 page)

"We might die. Are you prepared for that?"

For a moment Yutaka fell silent. But then he answered immediately, "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Okay."

Shinji gripped the handle of the gas can again and was about to form a smile…

…that froze when he saw something in the corner of his eye.

Someone's head emerged from the farm east of the parking lot.

"Yutaka!"

Shinji grabbed Yutaka's arm and ran back behind the sliding door into the slate-walled farm coop building. Yutaka teetered for a moment, partially due to the heavy rope, but managed to follow him. By the time they were crouched over behind the sliding door, Shinji already had his gun aimed at the figure.

The figure shrieked, "D-don't shoot! Shinji! Please don't shoot! It's me! Keita!"

Shinji realized it was Keita Iijima (Male Student No. 2). Keita, relatively speaking, was friendly and got along with Shinji and Yutaka (after all they'd been classmates since their first year), but Shinji wasn't relieved someone was joining them. No, he felt like this meant trouble. That's when he realized he hadn't given much thought to the possibility of others joining them until now. Damn, why now!

"It's Keita, Shinji. Come on, it's Keita."

Shinji thought Yutaka's excited voice sounded a little inappropriate.

Keita slowly stood up and proceeded toward the farm coop premises. He held his day pack in his left hand and what looked like a kitchen knife in his right. He spoke cautiously.

"I saw the light."

Shinji clenched his teeth. It must have come from the flashlight he'd used just that one time to find the pulley. Shinji chided himself, how could he have screwed up like that, rushing to use that flashlight?

Keita continued, "So I came here and saw that it was you guys…what are you doing? What were you carrying? Rope? Let me…let me join you guys."

Knowing how their conversations were monitored, Yutaka knit his brow and looked over at Shinji, his eyes opened wide, realizing how Shinji hadn't lowered his gun.

"Sh-Shinji, what's going on?"

Shinji moved his open right hand and signaled Yutaka not to move forward. "Yutaka. Don't move."

"Hey," Keita said. His voice was shaking. "Why are you pointing that at me?"

Shinji took a deep breath and said to Keita, "Don't move." He could tell Yutaka was getting tense.

Keita Iijima's pitiful face was visible in the moonlight as he took a step forward.

"Why? Why won't you let me? Have you forgotten who I am, Shinji? Let me join you guys."

Shinji cocked his gun with a click. Keita Iijima stopped. They still had plenty of distance, seven or eight meters.

"Don't come near us," Shinji slowly repeated. "I can't let you join."

Yutaka whined right beside him, "Why, Shinji? We can trust Keita."

Shinji shook his head. Then he thought, that's right, there's something you don't know about us, Yutaka.

It wasn't a big deal. In fact it was a trivial incident.

It happened during their second year near the end of the term in March. Shinji went to Takamatsu to see a movie (there was no movie theater in Shiroiwa) with Keita Iijima. Yutaka was supposed to go too, but he had a cold that day.

That was how Shinji encountered three tough-looking high school students in a back alley off the main street near the shopping arcade. Shinji and Keita had already seen the movie, and once they were done checking out the book and record stores (Shinji bought imported computer books. They were lucky finds. Even though they were technical books, the government strictly prohibited books from the West so they were difficult to come by), they were heading over to the train station when Keita realized he'd forgot to buy a comic book and went back to the bookstore alone.

"Hey, you got any dough?" one of the high school students asked. This guy was at least ten centimeters taller than Shinji, who at 172 meters was short for a basketball player.

Shinji shrugged. "I think I have 2,571 yen."

The interrogator looked at the other two as if saying, how lame. Then he leaned over by Shinji's ear.

Shinji was annoyed. Maybe it was from getting wasted on paint thinner or some wacky drug that was hip these days, in any case the guy's gums were receding, and the smell of his breath coming between his teeth reeked. Brush your teeth, man.

The guy said, "Give it up. Come on, now."

Shinji gave an exaggerated look of surprise and said, "Oh, so you guys are homeless! You know you should be content with twenty yen then. I actually might give you something if you get on your knees and beg for forgiveness."

The guy with a gap in his teeth looked surprised while the other two grinned.

"You still in junior high, right? You should learn to respect your elders," the guy said and grabbed Shinji by the shoulder. He kneed Shinji in the stomach. Shinji tightened his stomach muscles to take the blow. It didn't hurt that much. It was just a threatening knee kick. These guys could never take on someone their own age.

Shinji calmly pushed the high school student away. Then he said, "What was that? A Russian hug?"

The guys probably didn't even know where Russia was. But the guy with the gap in his teeth seemed irked by Shinji's tone of voice, and his thin, ugly face contorted.

"That's it." He punched Shinji in the face. This also didn't hurt much, though the inside of Shinji's mouth got cut.

Shinji stuck his fingers in his mouth to check the wound. It stung a little. He pulled out his fingers and found blood on them. It was nothing.

"Come on, give us your wallet."

Still looking down, Shinji broke into a grin. He looked up. When their eyes met the guy with the gap in his teeth looked intimidated.

Shinji said playfully, "You made the first move," and then with the motion of a short hook punch he swung the hardcover imported book in his hand into the guy's filthy mouth. He felt the guy's teeth break, his head fly back.

It took ten seconds for the fight to end. Of course his uncle's teachings had included fighting lessons too.

It was trivial.

What wasn't trivial was something else.

As he glared at the passers by who were staring at the high school students on the ground, Shinji headed back to the book store and found Keita in the comics section. The book he went back for was already in a shopping bag. He seemed to be browsing aimlessly, and when Shinji called on him, he said, "I'm sorry.

I remembered there was another book I wanted…" Then his eyes opened wide and he asked him,

"What happened to your mouth?"

Shinji shrugged and said, "Let's go home." He knew though that Keita had actually turned the street corner for a split second and ducked back when he saw Shinji surrounded by three high school students.

Shinji had thought Keita might have gone to call the police. (Well, given how they were so occupied with the suppression of civilians instead of criminals they weren't all that dependable anyway.) Oh, so there was another book you wanted. I see.

Thanks to this incident, the train ride back to Shiroiwa-cho wasn't much fun.

Keita probably thought Shinji could take on three high school students without any problem. And he was right. Keita probably didn't want to get hurt by getting involved in the fight. And okay, Shinji could understand how the high school students might take note of Keita's face if he'd called the cops. Uh huh.

And Keita had no intention of apologizing to Shinji. Sometimes you need to lie to make the world go around.

These things happen. As his uncle often used to say, cowards can't be faulted for being sly. They can't be held responsible for everything.

But the cover was torn on the technical book Shinji bought. On top of that, the edge was stained with the guy's saliva and dented by his teeth. That really got Shinji. Every time he'd open that book he'd have to recall that annoying face. On top of that, and he might be called anal retentive for this, but he hated it when his books were torn or dirty. He always put covers on them when he read them.

His uncle also said this. When you can't accept the results, then you have to punish whoever was responsible for them. Even the score.

So from then on as a form of punishment Shinji decided to keep his distance from Keita. It wasn't such a severe punishment. After all, it wasn't like he decided they were enemies. They were both better off this way.

So it was a trivial story. And he'd never shared the incident with Yutaka.

But maybe trivializing a story like that one could get you killed in this game. This isn't revenge, Uncle. This is what you'd call the real world. I simply can't be friends with him.

"That's right." In response to Yutaka's statement, Keita Iijima spread his arms. The kitchen knife in his right hand reflected the moonlight. "I thought we were friends."

Shinji still refused to lower the muzzle of his gun.

Seeing how adamant Shinji was, Keita looked like he was about to burst into tears. He threw the kitchen knife onto the ground. "See? I don't want to fight. Do you see now?"

Shinji shook his head. "No. Scram."

Keita's face flushed with anger. "Why? Why won't you trust me?"

"Shinji—"

"Shut up, Yutaka."

Keita's face froze. He turned quiet…and then said, his voice trembling, "Is it because of what I did that time, Shinji? When I ran off? Is that why you don't trust me, Shinji?"

Shinji aimed the gun at him without a word.

"Shinji…" Keita's voice once again turned pathetic. He was practically sobbing, "I'm sorry about that Shinji. I'm so sorry, Shinji—"

Shinji's lips tightened. He wondered whether Keita was being sincere or whether he putting on an act.

But then he dismissed the thought. I'm not alone. I can't risk Yutaka's life too. There was an aphorism he'd heard claimed by a Defense Minister of some nation, "We must defend ourselves according to our opponents' ability, not their intentions." They were approaching 1 a.m.

"Shinji, what is going on—"

Shinji held Yutaka back with his right hand.

Keita proceeded forward. "Please. I'm so scared. Please let me join."

"Don't come any closer!" Shinji shouted.

Keita Iijima shook his sad face left and right and stepped out. He was approaching Shinji and Yutaka.

Shinji pointed the gun downward and pulled the trigger for the first time. The shell popping out of the Beretta traced a pale white arc in the moonlight and a cloud of dust rose in front Keita's feet. Keita stared at it as if it were some rare chemistry experiment.

But then he started walking again.

"Stop! Just stop!"

"Please let me join. Please."

Like a wind-up doll Keita stepped forward. Right, left, right.

Shinji clenched his teeth. If Keita was going to pull out something besides his knife, it would have to come from his right arm.

Can you aim well? This time it won't be a threat. Accurately?

Of course.

There was no time left. Shinji pulled the trigger again.

He felt his finger slip.

A split second before the popping sound, Shinji suddenly realized that he was sweating. He was sweating from the tension.

It happened so suddenly. Keita Iijima bent over as if his upper body had been punched in. He spread out his arms like a shotputter does right before throwing a shot, then bent his knees and fell on his back. Even in the dark Shinji could clearly see the blood spurting out of the hole in the right side of his chest like a small fountain. This was also instantaneous.

"Shinji! What'd you do!" Yutaka screamed and ran to Keita. He knelt beside him and put his hands on Keita's body, his mouth agape. Then after hesitating for a moment he touched his neck. His face went pale. "He's dead...."

Shinji remained frozen, still holding onto his gun. He felt like he wasn't thinking, but he was. How lame, the voice echoed in his head. Although it was irrelevant, the voice echoed the way it does when you talk to yourself in the shower.

How lame. I thought you were supposed to be The Third Man, Shinji Mimura, who never missed a shot.

The star shooting guard of Shiroiwa Junior High, Shinji Mimura, right?

Shinji stood up and began to walk forward. As if he'd suddenly turned into a cyborg, his body felt heavy.

One day Shinji Mimura woke up to find out that he had become the Terminator. Great.

He slowly walked over to Keita Iijima's body.

Yutaka glared back at Shinji.

"Why, Shinji! Why'd you kill him!?"

Standing motionless, Shinji answered, "I thought we'd be in trouble if Keita had another weapon besides the knife. I aimed for his arm. I didn't mean to kill him."

Hearing this, Yutaka checked Keita Iijima's body. As if to make a point, he looked through Keita's day pack too. Then he said, "He had nothing! How could you, Shinji!? Why didn't you trust him!?"

Shinji suddenly felt hollow. But…it was necessary. Hey, Uncle, I didn't do anything wrong, did I? Right?

Shinji looked down at Yutaka without saying a word. But—that's right—they had to hurry. They couldn't let their mistakes drag them down.

Right before he was about to say this, something changed in Yutaka's face.

His lips trembled. He said, "Oh no, Shinji, don't tell me you—"

Shinji had no idea what he was referring to. He asked, "What?"

Yutaka quickly stepped back. He distanced himself from Shinji.

Yutaka spoke through his trembling lips, "Shinji, you didn't do that on purpose—"

Shinji's lips tightened. He gripped the Beretta in his left hand.

"You're saying I shot Keita to buy us time? That's..."

Yutaka frantically shook his head. Then he slowly retreated. "No…no…this whole plan—"

Shinji knit his brows and stared at Yutaka. Yutaka, what is it you're getting at?

"This whole thing about our escape, that was just, that was—"

Yutaka still didn't make any sense, but Shinji whose brain's CPU was amazingly fast finally had understood what Yutaka was thinking.

No, it can't be—

But what else could it be?

Yutaka was accusing Shinji of having no intention whatsoever to escape, that he had been planning all along to "play" this game. That's why he shot Keita.