It was Ms. Nomura.
That was definitely who Seiji was looking at: a quiet, well-behaved, middle-aged woman in a drab business suit. Someone who was as bad at talking to people as he was.
And yet she was holding that knife. The vicious serrations on its blade gleamed red in the light of the lamp.
Step by step, she was coming closer.
Aaaaaaaaaargh, dammit! This crud is happening way too often!
Seiji had been attacked by a lot of violent individuals recently, and all he could do was curse his luck: Why is it always me?! As he was rattling the handcuffs, trying to break the chain somehow…
Huh?
…something struck him as odd.
It was the way Ms. Nomura was holding the knife. She had the blade pointed up, almost as if she were planning to stab herself in the throat.
Meaning…
The moment his mind found the word suicide, his body just moved.
“Huh?” Ms. Nomura yelped.
Seiji had stretched his leg as far as it would go and kicked at the knife, and it had flown right out of her hand.
He might not look it, but he was pretty confident in the length of his legs. His slump canceled out that length and then some, but still.
“Wh-why would you just—? Why?!” His voice cracked.
Raising her head, Ms. Nomura met his eyes for the first time. There was a savage desperation in her face. “B-because I don’t want to be a murderer! That means dying first is my only option!” The words didn’t make any sense, but her voice was almost a shriek. “S-so I thought I’d at least die in front of the people who set this up. I’d bleed all over the place to harass them. I was going to go find that man, Takamura.”
In other words, she’d run into Seiji first and thought, Fine, he’ll do. I’ll just die in front of this guy. Was that it?
But…
“Um, the thing is, I’m not the executioner—”
“I know that.”
“Huh?”
The corners of Ms. Nomura’s lips seemed to spasm. “As if someone like you could kill anybody! You’re the sort of person who tells other people to confess their sins as well! Murder and the police feel like somebody else’s problem to you; that’s why you can talk like that!”
Her shrill, hysterical voice was trembling painfully. It was almost like a death rattle.
“Was I really that bad, though?! Is it all my fault? In the end, there were no good people anywhere; why am I the only one who has to be a murderer?! Was I wrong to envy her?! But I wasn’t the one who talked people down or hurt them! I’m not like her; I never even said bad things about anybody! Why me?!”
That’s— But Seiji’s throat closed up on him.
He couldn’t find the right words. It felt as if no matter what he said, he might as well have said nothing at all.
Still, I have to do something.
That had to be why Ms. Nomura had chosen him instead of Takamura: Since Seiji had failed to prevent a suicide once, she knew he’d try to stop her. She was attempting suicide so that someone would stop her—just like Inokoshi had.
“But I think that person probably didn’t want to die, either. Just like you right now, Ms. Nomura.”
The moment the words were out, a shock ran through his cheek. The stinging pain set in a second after he realized she’d slapped him.
“…You don’t know a thing,” Ms. Nomura spat.
Her voice was a mixture of irritation and contempt. Just like Inokoshi’s had been when he’d told Seiji, “Man, you haven’t changed a bit.”
“In the end, you didn’t understand anything about your friend who killed himself, either. He’d destroyed his health, quit his job, gambled himself into debt. He couldn’t face anybody. If he went to see an old childhood friend like you despite all that, it’s clearly because he wanted you to encourage him to go back home.”
It felt like she’d hit him again.
She was right. Inokoshi had parents and grandparents. “Going back home is a pain; they’re always all over me,” he’d grumbled, but he’d looked a little shy and embarrassed.
He’d had a place to go back to.
Oh, I see. That’s why he came to me at the end.
If Seiji had offered to go home with him, would Inokoshi have lived? Or if he’d at least urged him to go back to his hometown…
But he hadn’t been able to do it. Was that why Inokoshi had pushed all that debt onto him?
And had it taken him a whole year to figure out something that simple?
Still, I guess Inokoshi didn’t understand me, either.
To Seiji, that port town in Kanagawa hadn’t been “home.” He’d been neglected, cursed at, chased off as a nuisance—and he’d come to Tokyo to get away.
In the end, we were just different.
Still—even then, they’d been friends.
Since they were different, they hadn’t understood each other, but the fact that they were different was also why they’d been together.
I wish I’d asked. I wish I’d been able to tell him.
All he could do now was say he hadn’t wanted him to die.
Even so…
“In that case, please don’t die, Ms. Nomura.” His voice had gone damp; the tears were threatening to come. Gritting his teeth, he went on. “If it hadn’t been me—if it had been you, I bet Inokoshi would have survived. In that case, never mind me; I want you to live. People who can understand other people’s feelings shouldn’t ignore their own. Please,” he said, his voice trembling. Then he bowed his head.
Silence fell.
A long, long silence.
At some point, Ms. Nomura had sunk down to sit on the floor in front of him. She was gazing at him vaguely, hugging her knees like a child. She wasn’t mocking him or blaming him or getting angry. She just seemed tired.
“…To tell you the truth, I knew when I heard your confession,” she murmured. Her expression hovered somewhere between tears and a smile. “I was running away, only pretending to live, too. In my case, I pretended I was trying hard and ran away from running. Even though, no matter how hard I tried, I was just giving up on myself…”
The words fell quietly, one by one, like tears.
But then…
“So I won’t die. I’ll kill instead.”
“Huh?”
Seiji thought he’d heard wrong. The statement had been a complete non sequitur.
Before he could ask any questions, Ms. Nomura got to her feet. “I’m going back to my room,” she told him.
“Wha—? Wait…!” Seiji called after her, but she only walked faster, disappearing through the door to Car 3.
“K-kill”? She can’t have meant…
Had she been talking about the executioner or Takamura? That would mean they’d all go up in flames. No, more importantly— If it’s Shiroshi or Mao or somebody else…
The second that thought occurred to him, Seiji broke out in goose bumps.
I have to stop her.
However, Shiroshi—his only hope—was still under arrest in Room 202. That didn’t make it okay to expose Mao to danger, though. He had to get these cuffs off somehow.
“Ngh, ow!”
He twisted his wrist, straining, and a burning pain shot through it. It felt like he’d scraped himself up royally. This was no time for complaining, though. As he was putting more and more force behind the motion, trying not to cry…
“Ah, thank goodness. You’re all right.”
“Huh?!”
Incredibly, it was Shiroshi.
Tosu had come in right behind him. He shot Seiji a glance out of the corner of his eye, then hurried through the other door, heading for Car 3. Was he going after Ms. Nomura?
“Wh-what are you doing here? No, never mind that…” The two of them had entered from Car 4, but they should have been in Room 202, on the other side of the train. “Did you switch cars while I was out?”
“No, we were in Room 601 all along. I’ll explain later. For now…” Shiroshi brought out a bundle of keys that Seiji didn’t recognize. Apparently, he’d gotten the keys to the handcuffs from Tosu. The cuffs were the double-locking type, with two keyholes.
Wh-what the heck is going on? Or, no, that’s not what’s important right now.
Ms. Nomura came first.
With a clank, the cuffs were off. As Seiji had figured, he’d scraped himself up badly enough that he was bleeding, but he ignored the pain and followed Shiroshi through the door.
In the corridor of Car 3, they ran into Takamura on his way back from the front of the train. With Tosu standing by, he promptly used his master key to unlock the door to Room 301, Ms. Nomura’s compartment.
Seiji had a really bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. The premonition, along with the tension, seemed to crush his lungs.
With a click, the door opened.
“…It’s the same,” Shiroshi murmured, and Seiji felt his heart turn over.
Again.
Once again, there was a puddle of water in front of the door. It was just like the one they’d seen in Godou’s room. And, again, there was no one inside.
“No…,” Seiji said, groaning. His voice was hoarse and shaky.
The fear seemed to have leeched away his body heat; his teeth were chattering uncontrollably. What he was seeing terrified him.
The bottom line was that Ms. Nomura had disappeared from Room 301.
For the second time, someone had vanished.