“There must have been others,” Zerozaki objected. “People working on the case and such.”
“True. There were plenty of people who knew. But Muimi was the only one who thought it was a dying message.”
“Ahh, because the police think it was the killer’s signature rather than a dying message. And?”
“In Akiharu’s case, Sasaki said there were indications that the victim had written the message himself. Why only in this instance? Most likely because the killer coerced her victim into writing it before killing him to emphasize that this was a third case.”
“And she wouldn’t have had that idea in the first place if she hadn’t thought it was a dying message. So, did Atemiya know what ‘x over y’ means?”
“Probably not.”
If she’d known the meaning of the formula, she probably wouldn’t have used it even if it would enhance the semblance of continuity.
“And that was enough for you to decide that Atemiya was the culprit?”
“Yeah. Of course, it was partially speculation. I kind of figured she seemed the most likely to do such a thing. Even I was moved by her loyalty to Mikoko.”
“Liar.” Zerozaki chuckled. “Man, I’m not trusting a thing you say anymore. You’re no bystander, you’re just a plain old liar.”
“I believe I told you that.”
“Don’t flaunt your faults.”
“Yeah, I know I shouldn’t,” I deflected. “Anyway, it looks like you don’t have any other questions. Can we close the books on this case?”
“Not a very grand finale… Hah… How do you say it? Hearing the whole story laid out, it seems like such…”
“A riot?”
“Nah, nonsense,” he corrected, as if he’d been treated to the lamest of jokes.
I felt pretty much the same way.
It was terribly grotesque, terribly warped, and terribly vile; its ludicrous, embarrassing, and unsightly shape like some joke.
In the end, your thinking didn’t cease.
No matter how much you willed yourself.
Your brain matter kept at it, automatically.
Who and what were in the wrong?
That was probably simple enough in and of itself. It involved familiar issues and could win anyone’s understanding and sympathy and compassion.
That was what made it so unpleasant.
I don’t get it─how I wish I could have thought so and washed my hands of it.
“Well, without prying too deep,” Zerozaki said, looking off the other way like he was through with me. “I’ll bet you won’t give me a straight answer, so…forgetting all of that.”
“Huh. You’re awfully quick to give up.”
“I’ve got a few ideas up my sleeve, but will you tell me one thing, nonsense user?”
“What is it, serial killer?”
“Your thoughts?”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
“I mean, how do you feel about the fact that three people have died around you?” He suddenly seemed to be enjoying himself. He sounded like a carefee boy who was getting a kick out of gazing into the mirror. “You had people killing friends, killing themselves, killing for their friends, being killed for friends, and as a bonus, you almost got killed. How do you feel about all that?”
“……”
A straightforward question that I doubt I could have posed.
I tried to fold my arms and make like I was thinking to buy some time, but my broken fingers wouldn’t even allow that.
“Zerozaki, here’s how I feel about this string of cases.”
“Okay, let’s have it.”
“I talked a little too much this time. My throat hurts almost as much as my fingers.”
“……”
Zerozaki froze. His face twitched for an instant before he exploded into laughter.
“Gahahahahaha! I’ll bet it does. In other words, you don’t care if your friends die.”
“No, even a guy like me undergoes some shock at the death of a friend. It’s just that I hadn’t become friends with these people yet.”
Of the lot of them, I resembled Tomoe Emoto the most, and surely that closeness was why she was the most distant.
I couldn’t respond to Mikoko Aoii’s affection with affection, and Muimi Atemiya’s aggressive displays of emotion were totally foreign to me.
Likewise, Akiharu Usami’s graciousness was something I lacked.
“You’re so unfree,” accused Zerozaki.
“Not really.”
“Yes you are. You restrain yourself.”
“Better than having others restrain me. What exactly do you think it means to be free? Does freedom mean killing people?”
“Ah… My idea of freedom? Keheh,” Zerozaki let out a suggestive snicker. “Well, to be honest, I hate that damn word. I despise it. It makes my skin crawl.”
“Yeah, I don’t like it either.”
“It’s a cheap word in Japan, huh? People just throw it around in any context. They use it like an excuse. As in, Don’t I at least have the freedom to dye my hair? What a load of crap. But I pretty much just do what I want, so I don’t care what freedom really means. To hell with restraints, whether it’s others’ or your own.”
“Fair enough.” I sighed and nodded. “Then I guess if I hadn’t restrained myself, I would’ve turned out like you.”
“Does that mean if I’d restrained myself, I would’ve turned out like you?”
How utterly unappealing.
“I think I’ll pass on that.”
“Yeah, that’s a big no thank you.”
Zerozaki laughed, and I didn’t.
Despite our idle chatter, at some point the hospital had appeared before us. We’d been conversing while standing still for some time now, which I hadn’t noticed at all. At this point, I really had been talking too much.
From there, we discussed things that had nothing to do with the murders. Things that had nothing to do with anything besides us.
For probably two whole hours.
Ridiculous things that would serve no purpose in life. Things that would bring neither help nor harm to the world.
Some topics he would bring up. Some topics I brought up.
If you had three wishes, what would you ask for? If you found a hundred million yen, how would you spend it? Which is more beautiful, an isosceles or an equilaterial triangle? Which is bigger, a kilometer or a kilogram? Would you rather belong to the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn or the Rosicrucian Order? Is it possible to have a 115-by-115 magic square? What was the deal with 88 Othello, anyhow?
We conversed like two good friends.
But Zerozaki was no friend of mine, and I was no friend of his.
We may as well have been talking to ourselves.
It was all meaningless, worthless small talk.
I thought it neither enjoyable nor unenjoyable.
I was reexamining how I’d lived these past nineteen years.
A reflection of light.
Hitoshiki Zerozaki.
It was a wholly inconceivable chunk of time, but sure enough, the hands of that enchanted clock slowly made their way to zero.
“Well, that puts my doubts to rest,” he said. “I guess this is farewell.”
“Yeah,” I agreed readily.
“Nice killing time with ya.” Zerozaki lifted his rear end off the banister he had been sitting on. “Say,” he asked with a sideways glance, “you planning on staying in Kyoto permanently?”
“Hard to say. I’m kind of a wanderer. I reckon I’ll be here as long as I’m in college, but you never know when I might drop out.”
“Gotcha. Well, then what’s a place you don’t think you’ll ever go in your whole life?”
“Hmm… I doubt I’ll ever go to the North or South Pole, for starters.” After pretending to give it a moment’s thought, I gave my stock answer. “The one place I definitely want to avoid is Texas in America. Especially Houston. I’d rather have every damn bone in my body broken than go back there.”
“Huh.” Zerozaki nodded. “I guess I’ll go there, then.”
“Can you speak English?”
“I went to junior high. Besides, a knife gets through where words don’t. Of course,” he layered caustically, “your knife probably wouldn’t.”
I shrugged at his biting comment. “Then I guess we won’t meet again.”
“Fine by me, since it’s not the most pleasant sight.”
“Yeah, true enough.”
And we probably wouldn’t. I’d have no desire to see him, and he’d feel the same way. This had been an impossible encounter to begin with, so such was the logical conclusion.
I posed one last question.
I was taking a good look at the deepest, darkest part of me.
“Tell me, Zerozaki.”
“What?”
“Is there someone you love?”
“Hell no, man. Incidentally, I hate myself the most. Or maybe you. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve got someone.”
Zerozaki looked just a bit surprised but soon gave a gloating sneer. “When I asked you before, you said you didn’t know.”
“Yeah, I was lying.”
“I see. Well, I guess that’s the difference between you and me.”
“Yeah, guess so.”
“You’d better keep on living, then. Don’t become like me.”
“Same to you.”
His back to me, he began walking toward Imadegawa Street, and my back to him, I began walking toward the hospital reception.
Neither of us said a word, but I’m sure we were thinking the same thing.
“Now then…”
The tale had ended for me, too.
But even if a world or two that were the other side of the mirror crumbled, I could think of at least a couple of people who had no intention of letting things end thus, and that made me melancholic.
Maybe there was a kind of rough justice to it.
“Life is rough, isn’t it, No Longer Human?” muttered the Defective Product.
I was speaking to myself.