(0/6) Yuki awoke to a dust-filled breeze. (1/6) She was lying inside a wooden shack. The rotting ceiling, mold-covered walls, and missing planks in the floor suggested the structure was on the verge of collapse. Both windows were shattered, granting the outside air full liberty to brazenly infiltrate the room. The floor was caked in dust, which presumably had been carried in on the wind. That was the room where Yuki awoke. She sat up and looked down at herself, discovering she was dressed in a highly embarrassing getup: a cowgirl outfit. On her head sat a ten-gallon hat, the very symbol of the Wild West. The shirttails of her top were tied together, reducing the length of the garment enough to fully expose her stomach. Her denim bottoms had been trimmed as short as possible, and her boots had spurs jutting out the back. A handgun in a holster was attached to her belt. Yuki pulled out the firearm—a revolver. She fiddled with the gun a bit, and the cylinder swung open to reveal six loaded cartridges, the maximum capacity. That seemed to constitute her entire supply of bullets, as no spare ammunition turned up even after she conducted a thorough search of her costume. Although she wanted to give the gun a test shot, her severely limited supply of ammo and reluctance to make unnecessary noise convinced her to hold off for the moment. Yuki opened the dilapidated door and stepped outside. A Wild West townscape came into view, one that complemented her outfit well. The surrounding buildings and the dirt at her feet were both brown. Even the sky appeared dull and drab. Since nobody else was in the vicinity, the only movement came from rolling tumbleweeds that one would see in a Western. Yuki looked down at her hands. Cracking all ten fingers, she set off on foot. (2/6) Yuki Sorimachi was a death-game player. That meant she made a living from risking her life in dangerous games for prize money. She had only just learned about the existence of the games several days ago. In her first competition, Yuki had needed to complete a deadly obstacle course while dressed in school gym clothes. For her second, she had been tasked with kicking other players off a stage while wearing an idol outfit. Having cleared her first two games with flying colors, Yuki now found herself in the midst of her third go-round. Apparently, the rules differed from game to game. In some competitions, like Yuki’s first, players were forced to overcome a precarious venue, while in other games, like her second, the participants were pitted against one another. Evidently, her current game fell under the latter category. Yuki fired a shot from her revolver. A second later, blood spattered out from the girl standing in front of her. Thanks to the Preservation Treatment, a body modification procedure that all players underwent, the girl’s blood immediately transformed into a fluffy white material. For that reason, the blood neither dirtied Yuki’s body nor marred the scenery of the frontier town. After taking Yuki’s bullet to the center of her chest, the girl collapsed to the ground, never to rise to her feet again. She had breathed her last. That girl was another player. Like Yuki, she was dressed as a cowgirl, but her costume had a different style. It gave off a neat, clean-cut appearance, and far less of her body was exposed than Yuki’s; it was likely meant to be a sheriff’s outfit. The wind blew away several scraps of paper the girl had been holding. One of them flew in Yuki’s direction, and she managed to snatch it out of the air. It was a wanted poster with a large picture of Yuki’s face smack-dab in the center. The word Wanted was written above her photo, while the very bottom of the flyer featured the phrase DEAD OR ALIVE, along with a monetary reward. That hinted at the setup of the game: a shoot-out between outlaws and sheriffs. Yuki and the other outlaws would clear the competition upon escaping the town alive, while the sheriffs would have to amass enough reward money by apprehending outlaws. Yuki proceeded with the game. Through sharing information with other players and making inferences based on her own observations, she was able to ascertain more details about the game’s setup. There were around one hundred players in total, roughly split eighty to twenty between outlaws and sheriffs. Several locations around town had been designated as “Sheriff’s offices,” where the sheriffs could take the outlaws they captured. In accordance with the “dead or alive” rule, many outlaws were brought in as corpses, but it seemed those captured alive would also be executed at the end of the game. Both teams had been supplied with identical revolvers, but unlike the outlaws, who only had six bullets each at their disposal, sheriffs could restock on ammunition at the offices. Additionally, the reward for capturing a specified outlaw was not fixed but continuously updated as time went on, fluctuating based on factors such as an outlaw’s kill count and their distance from the town’s exit. In other words, the more formidable the player, the sweeter the reward for killing them. For better or for worse, the bounty on Yuki’s head continued to rise, which saw her entering more and more shootouts with sheriffs. Since Yuki had never once set foot off Honshu, the main island of Japan, much less her home country, she had no experience wielding a gun. Yet just like in her first two games, she somehow managed to excel. Shooting down sheriffs one after another, she came closer and closer to the town’s exit. Suddenly, Yuki stopped in her tracks—or to be more precise, she was forced to stop in her tracks. She carefully took in the scene before her eyes. In the distance was an arched sign bearing the name of the game, HORMONE TOWN. Miles and miles of wasteland stretched beyond the arch, presumably indicating the edge of the settlement. All that separated Yuki from the exit was a row of dilapidated buildings. Not a soul was in sight—at least, not that her eyes could see. However, Yuki could perceive numerous signs of life scattered around the area. A large contingent of sheriffs was hiding in the shadows of the buildings, lying in ambush near the exit. “…What a pain.” Yuki adjusted her ten-gallon hat and slipped into one of the buildings. (3/6) Just as Yuki had anticipated, a sheriff was standing by inside. Without a moment’s hesitation, Yuki aimed her gun, killed the other player, and stole her bullets before moving on to the next building. She shot down the sheriff there, too, along with the sheriff in the following building—rinse and repeat. Of course, the sheriffs attempted to fire back, but not one of their bullets found their mark. Somehow, Yuki could sense the exact moment they pulled the trigger, thereby allowing her to dodge out of the way. Guess I have a knack for these games, she thought, the same conclusion she had reached in her first two competitions. Soon, without sustaining a single wound, Yuki arrived at the final building. Upon opening the back door, she came face-to-face with the final sheriff: a slender player with wavy white hair. Just as she had done with her other opponents, Yuki aimed her revolver at the white-haired woman. In each of Yuki’s previous encounters, her opponents had all reacted in one of two ways. First, there were those who attempted to draw their weapon, only for Yuki to shoot them in the head. Second, there were those who would take desperate, evasive maneuvers. That led to another branching path, where the sheriff either succeeded or failed in dodging Yuki’s bullet. But even if they ducked out of the way, it only took Yuki another one or two pulls of the trigger to send them to their graves. In this instance, however, the white-haired sheriff went down a third route: drawing and firing her gun faster than Yuki. “……!” Yuki scrambled to evade, slipping behind the door she had opened not a moment ago. Then she shut the door and began moving along the building’s outer wall. Reentering from the back door would be unwise beyond measure. Yuki figured she would have to circle around to the main entrance or a window before going on the attack. Alas, that strategy was a disastrous miscalculation—since the bullet from earlier penetrated the wooden wall and hit Yuki in the leg. She fell forward, falling chest-first into the dirt. Ironically, since the impact made it difficult for her to breathe, she avoided uttering a scream. Yuki turned in the direction of the rear door, and it swung open that very moment. The white-haired sheriff stepped out and took in the pathetic sight of Yuki collapsed on the ground. “How stupid can you be?” the sheriff mocked. “There’s no way this shabby old wall could ever stop a bullet.” She was absolutely right. Yuki had naively thought that any kind of obstacle would shield her from bullets. That was how it worked in video games, after all. This was a painful lesson in how the mechanics of death games differed greatly from those of other “games.” Yuki aimed her gun at the white-haired player. This time, she was faster. The firing pin of her revolver struck against a cartridge, sending a bullet flying straight at the sheriff’s face— —but the woman dodged it by tilting her head to the side. “Don’t aim for the skull,” the sheriff said. “It only takes the tiniest of movements to dodge a shot like that. You’d only ever hit the weakest of the weak.” Yuki’s eyes widened in surprise. The player standing before her also had the skill to evade bullets. Who in the world was this woman? Unfortunately, she was afforded no time to ponder the question. The sheriff unleashed a barrage of bullets. Every single one of them hit Yuki. One shot to her uninjured leg. Two shots to her torso. One shot each to her left hand and left shoulder. Yuki’s firearm flew out of her left hand and landed a great distance away. Since the white-haired player had followed her own advice by not aiming for Yuki’s head, none of Yuki’s wounds were fatal, but she was rendered powerless to resist. The white-haired player approached the immobilized Yuki. The woman had already fired six bullets, including her first shot, which meant her six-chamber revolver was out of ammo. As a sheriff, she was almost certainly carrying spare ammunition, but she made no effort to reload her weapon. Instead, she pulled out a second gun from her holster. Yuki naturally expected a bullet to come her way, but the sheriff held the revolver by its barrel. It was a scene Yuki had previously seen play out in a film—the woman’s posture was that of someone about to beat another person silly with the grip of their gun. The white-haired player stepped on Yuki. Her gaze was so cold that it was hard to believe she was about to initiate a violent beatdown. “Who the hell are you?” Yuki asked in a half groan. The sheriff gave a terse answer as she swung down her gun. “Hakushi.” Everything faded to black. (4/6) Yuki woke up from being violently shaken. She quickly realized she was riding in the back of a horse-drawn wagon. Beneath her were wooden planks, while above her was an arched canopy. At the front of the vehicle sat a driver who was holding the reins of two horses. Since Yuki’s vocabulary could be put to shame by a dictionary for grade schoolers, she could come up with only one term that fit the bill: horse-drawn wagon. Yuki was not the only passenger on board. There were around a dozen others who, judging by their outfits, all appeared to be sheriffs. Among them was the white-haired player Yuki had faced off with earlier. “Ah—” At the exact same moment Yuki opened her mouth, the woman glanced over. “Finally awake?” the white-haired player asked. “…Where are we?” “In a wagon, obviously.” Yuki turned to the rear of the wagon. Off in the distance, the arch with the words HORMONE TOWN—the name of the town where players had fought up until a short while ago—was slowly disappearing into the horizon. She had escaped the town. The game was over, and Yuki had survived. —Despite having been captured by a sheriff. “How?” Yuki asked. “Consider yourself lucky. You lived,” replied the white-haired player—Hakushi, if memory served. “You took out all the sheriffs who didn’t have enough reward money in that murderous rampage of yours. After that, there was no more need for killing.” Yuki noticed all the other players—sheriffs—were staring at her. Although they had only been at odds with one another because of the game, Yuki was their former enemy, and as such, their gazes contained little warmth. “You weren’t gonna kill me?” Yuki asked. “Like I said, there was no more need for death. Or would you rather I had shot you in the head?” Yuki offered no answer. Instead, her lack of a reply spoke volumes about her inner emotions. A feeling of frustration bloomed in her chest, like that of a bungee jumper who had missed the right moment to take the plunge. Whether or not the woman was aware of Yuki’s frame of mind, Hakushi asked her a question. “What’s your name?” “Huh?” “What, didn’t you hear me? Tell me your name.” “…Yuki Sorimachi.” “Your player name?” “Yuki.” “Your first instinct being to give your real name tells me you’re a rookie. How many games have you played?” “This was my third. What’s it to you?” “Is anyone mentoring you right now?” Yuki was unable to answer immediately, as her brain needed some time to process the meaning of the word mentoring that had come from out of nowhere. “What? ‘Mentoring’?” Yuki parroted back. “Right, well… It’s a common practice in this industry.” “Seriously? In death games?” “It’s common because these are death games. It’s far too difficult to survive in this world learning the ins and outs yourself.” Hakushi shot another glance at Yuki. “So? Are you being mentored by anyone?” “Why would I be?” “That tracks. In that case, I’ll take you under my wing as my protégée.” The wagon started buzzing with commotion. Hakushi’s declaration must have been incredibly shocking, as all the other sheriffs shared looks of bewilderment. However, Yuki was confident she was the most bewildered of them all. “It’s what you need,” Hakushi continued. “You have a knack for these games, but you won’t get far on raw talent alone. You need to acquire more knowledge and skills.” “You don’t get to decide that for me,” Yuki snapped back, while still in a state of shock. “What are you, my mom?” “That attitude will lead you to an early grave.” “Forget it. I don’t want what you’re selling. Mind your own business.” “Are you really going to say that after you were on death’s doorstep just a little while ago? You’d be dead by now if you weren’t lucky.” “Who cares? I wouldn’t be here if I wanted a long life.” Hakushi paused for a moment, taking the time to carefully choose her words. Yuki had a hunch as to what would come out of the woman’s mouth next. People like Hakushi would always say the same kind of thing in these situations. “A long time ago, I didn’t care when I died, either,” Hakushi said, exactly as Yuki had anticipated. Although she had expected the words, she felt warmth fill her head. “What’re you getting at?” Yuki asked. “I don’t feel that way anymore. And someday, you may go through a similar change of heart. That’s why you should learn the techniques you’ll need to live a long life.” “Oh, so you’re reaching out ’cause you see your past self in me.” Words started racing out of Yuki’s mouth. “Let me give you a lesson in manners. If you’re gonna chat with someone, treat her like she’s her own person. It’s rude to talk to her like you’re looking at the ghost of your past self. It’s sickening.” Hakushi shut her mouth. This time, it seemed she was not carefully selecting her words but rather simply keeping quiet. “Point taken,” she finally said. “Then, I’ll leave it to you. If you want to be my protégée—if you wish to level up as a player—if you ever hope to have a change of heart…” Hakushi cut off a piece of her ten-gallon hat, scribbled something down, and passed the note to Yuki. “Anytime is fine. Come to that address.” (5/6) In the end, Yuki accepted Hakushi’s invitation to become her protégée. Not even Yuki could explain why she had made that decision. Maybe Hakushi’s words had been particularly persuasive. Maybe Yuki had simply done so on a whim. Maybe she’d wanted to see Hakushi again to give her a big slap across the face. Or maybe, deep down, she’d been truly afraid of death. Whatever the reason, meeting Hakushi greatly altered the course of Yuki’s fate. She would end up walking the path of a death-game player and even go so far as to inherit her mentor’s goal of achieving ninety-nine consecutive victories. A long time had passed since then. Now Yuki was the one in the role of a mentor. (6/6)
Chapter 28
15 min read