The blood stain spread all over the grass underneath.
He had shielded Mitsuko. That one instant.
Mitsuko slowly knelt down by Yuichiro. She could tell he was still breathing as she bent over.
After some consideration, Mitsuko moved over to block Yuichiro's view of Tadakatsu's corpse. Then she grabbed his shoulder to turn him over.
Yuichiro moaned, "Urgh," and opened his eyes in a daze. His school coat had two holes, one in the left chest and the other in his side. Blood came pouring out, absorbed by the black fabric. Mitsuko held Yuichiro up.
His eyes wandered around for a while. Then he looked at Mitsuko. His short breaths came intermittently, matching his heartbeat. "M-Mitsuko…" he said, "wh-what about Tadakatsu?"
Mitsuko shook her head. "He panicked after he shot you and just ran away."
Tadakatsu had tried to kill Mitsuko so this explanation didn't make much sense. But…maybe he couldn't think much anymore. Yuichiro seemed to nod slightly.
"R-really…" His eyes seemed out of focus. He might only have a partial image of Mitsuko now. "Y-you didn't get hurt, I hope?"
"I'm fine." She nodded. And then said, "You saved me."
Yuichiro seemed to form a slight grin. "I-I'm so sorry. I-I don't think I can protect you anymore. I-I can't m-m-move…"
Foams of blood came bursting out the sides of his mouth. His lungs must have been punctured.
"I know." She leaned over and gently hugged his body.
Mitsuko's long black hair fell onto his chest, its ends stained by the blood pouring out of his wounds.
Before she pressed her lips against his, Yuichiro's eyes moved slightly but then they shut.
This kiss was different from the whore's kiss she gave to Tadakatsu moments ago. It was soft, warm, and kind even though it might have been mixed with the taste of blood.
Their lips parted. Yuichiro opened his eyes again in a semi-daze.
"I-I'm sorry…" he said, "it looks like…"
Mitsuko smiled. "I know."
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! With these dull gunshots Yuichiro's eyes opened wide.
Staring up at Mitsuko's face, and probably having no idea what had just happened, Yuichiro Takiguchi was now dead.
Mitsuko slowly removed the smoking revolver from Yuichiro's stomach and held Yuichiro's body again.
She looked into his now vacant eyes.
"You were pretty cool. You even made me a little happy. I won't forget you."
She closed her eyes. Almost remorsefully, she once again gently pressed her lips against Yuichiro's. His lips were still warm.
The sunlight was finally shining on the western slope of the northern mountain. Under Mitsuko's head, blocking this light, Yuichiro's pupils dilated rapidly.
14 students remaining
58
Shuya Nanahara (Male Student No. 15) suddenly woke up. He saw the blue sky framed by brilliant green grass.
He got up. Beyond the grass surrounding him, there was the familiar sight of Shiroiwa Junior High School in the pleasant sunlight.
Several students were on the school field in their gym gear. Maybe they were playing Softball for gym class. He could hear their cheering.
He was in the garden at the edge of the courtyard. He saw the large leaves of the phoenix tree looming above him. This was where he took a nap sometimes, either during lunch or when he cut class.
He stood up and checked his body.
He had no wounds at all. Flakes of grass were stuck to his coat. He brushed them off.
A dream…
Shuya shook his head, still in a daze. Then he knew for certain.
It was all a dream. All of it.
He wiped his neck with his hand. It was moist with sweat. He was drenched in sweat as if he'd had a nightmare.
What…what a horrible dream! Killing game? We were selected for that "Program"!
Then he realized. The ones in the field…gym class?
He checked his watch. Afternoon classes had started. He'd overslept!
He quickly left the garden and trotted over to the school building. Today…today was…he checked his watch while running and saw it was Thursday.
The first Thursday afternoon period was literature. He felt relieved. He liked literature, and he did pretty well in that class. Plus his teacher, Kazuko Okazaki, liked him. So all he'd have to do is bow apologetically.
Literature. Favorite subject. Grades. Ms. Okazaki.
These words passing through his mind triggered a nostalgic feeling.
Shuya really did like literature. Even if the stories and essays in the textbooks were inundated with slogans in praise of the Republic or some silly "ideology," Shuya managed to discover words he liked.
Words were just as important to him as music. Because rock couldn't do without lyrics.
Speaking of words… the top student in literature, Noriko Nakagawa, wrote beautiful poetry. Compared to the song lyrics he struggled to come up with, her words were so much more concise and brilliant…they could be open and gentle on the one hand and harsh and strong on the other…he thought they represented the nature of girls in general. Sure, Yoshitoki Kuninobu had a crush on Noriko, but what really struck Shuya was this part of her.
Which made Shuya realize, oh, that means Yoshitoki is alive. Realizing how silly the whole ordeal was, he was about to cry from relief as he trotted over. How silly. I can't believe I could dream of Yoshitoki dying.
And how did I end up with Noriko?…Hey wait, since when did I stop calling her "Noriko-san"? How presumptuous…in that stupid dream, he thought. They were linked together in the dream…so does that mean I have some feelings for her beyond admiring her poetry? Uh oh, that means I'll end up fighting with Yoshitoki. That's trouble.
Still, this idle thought made him grin.
Shuya entered the school building, now hushed because classes were in session. He ran up the stairs.
Third Year Class B was on the third floor. He skipped every other step.
He reached the third floor and turned right into the hall. The second classroom was Class B.
Shuya stopped by the door for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse for Ms. Okazaki. He was feeling sick…no, he had a dizzy spell. So he had to lie down and rest. Would she believe him, given how he was always in perfect health? Yoshitoki would give an exaggerated shrug, and someone like Yutaka Seto would say something like, "I bet you were sleeping," Shinji Mimura would snicker, and Hiroki Sugimura, his arms folded, would look mildly amused. Noriko would smile at Shuya as he scratched his head. All right, that's what I'll go with. So what if it's embarrassing.
Shuya put his hand on the door, made himself look as apologetic as possible, and gently slid it open.
Right before he looked up from the formal posture he assumed, a stench assaulted him.
He looked up. He slid the door open with all his might.
The first thing he saw was someone lying by the lectern.
Ms. Okazaki…
It wasn't Ms. Okazaki. It was their head instructor, Masao Hayashida. And…
His head was missing. There was a puddle where it was supposed to be. Only half of his eyeglass frames were lying beside him.
Shuya tore his eyes off of Mr. Hayashida's corpse and examined the rest of the class.
There were desks and chairs lined up as usual.
The strange thing was that his familiar classmates were all sprawled over their desks. And…
The floor was covered with blood. An intense stench wafted up.
After standing still for a moment, he quickly reached out for Mayumi Tendo—and realized that an antenna-like silver arrow was planted in her back. Its tip was poking out of her stomach while blood dripped down and off her skirt onto the floor.
Shuya moved forward. He shook Kazushi Nüda's body. Kazushi's body tilted with a jerk, revealing its face.
Shuya felt a chill run up his spine. Kazushi's eyes were now two dark-red holes. Blood and a slimy egg-white-like substance oozed out of them. Then… there was a gimlet-like object with a thick handle stabbed into his mouth.
Shuya screamed and ran to Yoshitoki Kuninobu's seat. There were three holes in his back, each one blooming with flowers of blood. As he held him up, Yoshitoki's head slumped over onto his shoulder. His bulging eyes gazed up at the ceiling.
Yoshitoki!…
Shuya raised his voice. Then he looked around frantically.
Everyone was either slouched back in their chairs or lying on the floor.
Megumi Eto's throat was slashed like sliced watermelon. A sickle was planted in Yoji Kuramoto's head.
Sakura Ogawa's head was split open like an overripe fruit. Only half of Yoshimi Yahagi's head existed.
An axe was planted in Tatsumichi Oki's head, his face cracked down the middle, left and right out of alignment like a split peanut. Kyoichi Motobuchi's stomach looked like a sausage-factory trash bin.