Battle Royale

by Koushun Takami

  The wound was on the outer calf. A section of flesh approximately four centimeters long and one centimeter deep had been scraped off. A thin stream of blood still flowed out of the ends of the pinkish flesh wound. It looked like she needed stitches.

  Shuya quickly turned off his flashlight and grabbed his sports bag instead of his day pack. He grabbed the bourbon flask and two clean bandannas he'd packed for the trip. He uncapped the flask.

  "This is going to hurt."

  "I'll be okay," Noriko said, but once Shuya tilted the flask and poured the bourbon to disinfect her wound, she let out a small hiss. Shuya pressed one folded bandanna onto her wound. He opened up the other one, folded it, then began wrapping it around her leg tightly like a bandage. This would stop the bleeding for now.

  After wrapping her leg, he pulled at both ends of the bandage tightly, tied them together, and mumbled,

  "Damn…"

  Noriko whispered, "You mean Nobu?"

  "Yoshitoki, Yoshio. Everyone and everything. I'm not into this. I am so not into this." As he moved his hands Shuya glanced at Noriko. Then he looked down and finished tying his knot. Noriko thanked him and tucked her leg in.

  "So Yoshio was the one who killed…" her voice was trembling, "…Mayumi?"

  "That's right. He was above the exit door. I threw the arrow at him and he fell." Now that he thought about it, Shuya suddenly realized he hadn't taken care of Yoshio. He'd instinctively assumed Yoshio would remain unconscious for a while, but for all he knew Yoshio might have woken up immediately afterwards.

  Which meant he might have taken his bow gun, climbed up on the roof, and continued his slaughter. Was I being too naive again? Should I have just killed him over there?

  With this thought Shuya checked his watch under the moonlight. The old, domestically manufactured Hattori Hanzo limited-edition diver's watch (along with most of his belongings, it had been donated to Shuya through the orphanage) read 2:40. Everyone might have left by now. At most there were only two or three students left, regardless of Yoshio Akamatsu's state. Shinji Mimura had already…Shuya was nearly certain Shinji could easily escape Yoshio...By now he'd already left too. Shuya shook his head. Now he felt foolish believing they could unite against their situation.

  "I never thought someone like him would actually try to kill everyone else to survive. I understand the rules, but I didn't think anyone would actually participate."

  "You might be wrong about that though," Noriko said.

  "Huh?" Shuya looked into Noriko's face, too dark to discern under the moonlight. Noriko continued, "You know how Yoshio was always timid. I think he was scared. That must've been it. I mean you have no idea who might turn against you. He might have been convinced everyone was coming after him. I think he was really scared. And that if he didn't do anything he would end up being…killed…"

  Shuya sat down against the nearest tree trunk and stretched his legs out. The ones who were terrified might try to kill each other…The same idea had occurred to Shuya, but he had also thought the ones who were scared would basically hide out. But if they were terrified out of their wits, they might actually take their own initiative.

  "I get it."

  I get it.

  "Yes," Noriko nodded. "It's still horrible that he started killing indiscriminately." They remained silent for a while. Then Shuya came up with an idea. "Hey, you think if he'd seen the two of us together he wouldn't have attacked us? Wouldn't it prove we're not playing the game?"

  "Well yes, maybe."

  Shuya started thinking. If as Noriko said Yoshio had just been overwhelmed by paranoia…

  That moment back there was when he first realized someone was willing to play. That was why he fled. But maybe that was wrong. How could they possibly kill each other? It was outrageous. Then should he have waited for the others, leaving aside what he should have done with Yoshio?

  Either way, it was too late now. Everyone would be gone by now even if they went back. Besides, did Yoshio do that simply out of fear?

  He was getting confused.

  "Hey, Noriko."

  Noriko lifted her face.

  "What do you think? I fled from the school grounds the moment I realized there might be others like Yoshio. But…if he really did it out fear…in other words, do you really think any of us would actually participate? What I mean is that… I'm thinking of gathering everyone together to escape from this game. What do you think?"

  "Everyone?"

  Noriko fell silent and tucked her knees under her skirt. Then she said, "Maybe I'm not as generous."

  "Huh?"

  "I couldn't handle some of them. I could trust my friends...." Noriko mentioned the name of their class representative, Yukie Utsumi. Shuya knew Yukie since elementary school.

  "Like Yukie. But I don't think I could trust the other girls. There's no way I could be with them. Don't you think? I have no idea what was going through Yoshio's mind, but I'm afraid of everyone else too. I mean…I just realized I don't know a thing about everyone else. I don't know what they're really like. I mean…you can't see into someone's mind."

  I don't know a thing about everyone else.

  She was right, Shuya thought. What do I know about this group that I spend the day with at school? He suddenly felt like there was an enemy out there.

  Noriko continued, "So I-I'd be suspicious. Unless it was someone I really trusted, I'd be suspicious of them. I'd be afraid they might want to kill me."

  Shuya sighed. The game was horrible. But it also seemed flawless. In the end, it was a bad idea to invite everyone indiscriminately to form a group unless you were certain about them. What if—let's just say what if—they betrayed you? It wasn't just his life but Noriko's too he'd be endangering. Yes—it was only natural the others before him had immediately fled the premises. That was more realistic.

  "Hold on a sec," Shuya said. Noriko glanced up at Shuya. "Then that means us being together won't necessarily prove we're harmless. The others might suspect that I plan on killing you eventually." Noriko nodded. "Yes, I'll be suspected too, just like you. A classmate might avoid us once they see us together, but I also think anyone we invite will turn away. I mean it would depend on each person." Shuya held his breath. "It would be scary."

  "Yes, it's really scary."

  So the ones who fled from the school premises might have been right. But what mattered to him was protecting Noriko Nakagawa, the girl Yoshitoki adored. Maybe he should have been content with the fact that at the very least Noriko Nakagawa was safe by his side now. He had done the safest thing. But…

  "But," he said, "at the very least I wanted Shinji to join us. I think he'd come up with a really good plan. You'd be okay with Shinji, right?"

  Noriko nodded and said, "Of course." Given the amount of time she spoke with Shuya at school, she had many occasions to talk to Shinji Mimura___Besides…

  Shuya recalled how Shinji had helped her up and how he'd signaled him to calm down. He realized now that if Shinji hadn't done those things, he and Noriko would have remained dazed and been shot down like Yoshitoki.

  As if she were thinking along the same lines that led to the inevitable, she looked down and quietly said,

  "So Nobu's gone."

  "Yeah," Shuya answered quietly, as if it were a bizarre fact, "I guess so." Then they fell silent again. They could reminisce but now was not the time. Besides, Shuya couldn't bring himself to take a stroll down memory lane over Yoshitoki. It was too heavy.

  "I wonder what we should do."

  Noriko stiffened her mouth and nodded without a word.

  "I wonder if there might be a way to gather the ones we trust together."

  "That's…" Noriko considered it, then became silent once again. It was true—there was no way. At least for now.

  Shuya sighed deeply once again.

  He looked up and saw through the twigs the gray night sky dimly glowing under the moonlight. So this was what it meant to be in a "no-win situation." If they simply wante
d everyone to join, all they had to do was walk around and shout. But that would be an open invitation to get themselves killed by any of their opponents. Of course he hoped there weren't any opponents but…in the end, he had to admit he was scared too.

  The thought led to an idea, though. Shuya turned to her and asked, "But you're not afraid of me?"

  "What?"

  "Didn't you wonder whether I'd try to kill you?"

  Under the moonlight, he couldn't see well, but Noriko's eyes seemed to widen a little. "You would never do something so horrible."

  Shuya thought a little more. Then he said, "But you can't know what someone's thinking. You said yourself."

  "No," Noriko shook her head. "I just know that you would never do that." Shuya looked at her face directly. He probably looked dazed. "You can…tell?"

  "Yes…I can. I…" She hesitated, but then continued, "I've been watching you for so long now." She might have delivered these words more stiffly in a normal situation, or at least one that was a little more romantic.

  That was how Shuya recalled the anonymous love letter he'd received written on light blue stationary. Someone had put it inside his desk one day in April. This wasn't the first love letter the former star shortstop and current self-proclaimed (sometimes by others as well) rock and roll star of Shiroiwa Junior High had received, but it made enough of an impression on Shuya for him to hold onto it. There was a poetic quality to the letter that touched him.

  It read, "Even if it's a lie, even if it's a dream, please turn to me. Your smile on a certain day isn't a lie, it's not a dream. But having it turn to me might be my lie, my dream. But the day you call my name, it won't be a lie, it won't be a dream." And then, "It's never been a lie, it's never been a dream that I love you." Was Noriko the one who sent that letter? He remembered observing how the writing resembled hers, and how the poetic style seemed similar too....So then…

  Shuya thought of asking her about the letter, but decided not to. This wasn't the right time. Besides, he had no right to bring it up. After all he was so hung up over another girl, Kazumi Shintani, who would never, to take the phrase from that love letter, "turn to him," other girls and that love letter were of little concern to him in comparison. The most important thing now for him was to protect "the girl Yoshitoki Kuninobu adored," not to find out "who had a crush on him." Then he recalled the bashful look Yoshitoki gave him when they had that talk. "Hey Shuya, I got a crush on someone."

  Noriko asked him, "What about you, Shuya? Aren't you afraid of me? No, wait, why then did you help me?"

  "Well…" Shuya thought of telling her about Yoshitoki. Come on, my best friend had a crush on you. So if I'm going to help anyone, it's got to be you, no matter what. I mean, really, come on. He decided against this too. They were better off discussing this later, hopefully when they could take the time to, assuming that is, there would be any time later.

  "You were injured. I couldn't just leave you alone. And besides, I trust you. I'll be damned if I didn't trust someone cute as you."

  Noriko broke into a slight grin. Shuya did his best to return the smile. They were in a horrible situation, but he felt slight relief in forming a smile.

  Shuya said, "In any case, we're lucky. At least we're together." Noriko nodded. "Yes."

  But…what were they supposed to do now?

  Shuya began packing his bag. If they were going to rest in order to come up with a strategy, they needed to find a place that offered visibility. Again, they had no idea what the others were up to. At the very least they had to be extremely cautious. That was what it meant to be realistic in the face of horrific circumstances.

  He kept the map, compass, and flashlight by his side. This was the world's worst orienteering game.

  "Can you still walk?"

  "I'm all right."

  "Then let's move on a little more. We have to find a place to rest." 38 students remaining

  11

  Mitsuru Numai (Male Student No. 17) proceeded cautiously between the grove and the narrow moonlit beach that was approximately ten meters wide. He was carrying his issued day pack and his own bag on his shoulder. He held a small automatic pistol in his right hand. (It was a Walther PPK 9mm. Compared to the other weapons that had been issued in this game, this one ranked high. Along with most of the guns used in this program, this mass-produced model was imported cheaply from Third World countries that had remained neutral towards both the nations of the Republic of Greater East Asia and the American Empire and its allies.) Mitsuru was familiar with a model-gun version of the pistol, so he didn't need the accompanying manual. He even knew there was no need to cock the pistol before pulling the trigger. It came with a cartridge of ammunition which he'd since loaded into the gun. The gun in his hand made him feel somewhat secure, but he held something even more important in his left hand, the supplied compass. It was the same cheap tin model Shuya had, but it did the job. Forty minutes prior to his departure from the classroom, his great leader, Kazuo Kiriyama (Male Student No. 6) had passed him this note: "If we're really on an island, then I'll be waiting at the southern tip." Of course…everyone was an enemy in this game. That was the fundamental rule. But the bond in the

  "Kiriyama Family" was absolute. It didn't matter that they were labeled thugs. They were thick as thieves. Furthermore, the bond between Mitsuru Numai and Kazuo Kiriyama was special. Because…in a way it was Mitsuru who made Kazuo Kiriyama into what he was now. If there was one thing he knew, that the other more square students like Shuya Nanahara didn't, it was the fact that as far as Mitsuru knew, Kazuo Kiriyama, at least until junior high, was no "delinquent." Mitsuru's memory of his first encounter with Kazuo Kiriyama was so vivid it remained unforgettable. Mitsuru had been a bully ever since elementary school. But he was never needlessly cruel. Brought up in a generic family, he wasn't particularly bright, nor did he display any other gifts. Fighting was the best way he could prove himself. "Strength" was the only standard he had, and he never fell short of it. So it was only inevitable, on his first day in junior high, he'd do his best to discourage any competitors coming from other elementary schools in his district. Of course, judging from the strength of kids he'd encountered in the local hang-outs, he knew the kids from the other elementary schools hardly presented a threat. Not everyone might have heard of him, though. There should be only one king— that was the best way to maintain order. Of course he wouldn't have thought to put it this way, but he knew this was what was going on.

  As expected, there were two or three competitors. It all happened after the entrance ceremony and class introduction, after school, when he was in the process of taking care of the last one. In the deserted hall by the art classroom, Mitsuru grabbed the kid by the lapels and shoved him against the wall. The kid was already bruised above the eye. His eyes were brimming with tears. It was a cinch. It'd only taken two punches.

  "Got it? So you don't mess around with me."

  The kid nodded his head frantically. He was probably just begging to be released, but Mitsuru wanted verbal confirmation.

  "I'm asking you! Did you get that!?"

  He thrust the kid's body up with his left arm. "Answer me. Am I the baddest guy in his school? Am I?" Mitsuru became irritated because his opponent wasn't responding. He lifted him up higher, when he suddenly felt those eyes on him.

  He let go of the kid and turned around. The kid fell to the floor and scrambled away, but there was no way Mitsuru could go after him now anyway.

  He was surrounded by four guys much taller than him. The badges on their worn out collars indicated they were third-year students. You could immediately tell what they were. They were just like him.

  "Hey, kid," the pimply faced one who had a creepy grin said. "You shouldn't pick on the weak." Another one with orange-tinted hair down to his shoulders pursed his abnormally thick lips and continued, "You've been naughty." His "faggoty" voice made the four of them crack up, laughing,

  "HEEEE," as if they were all insane.

  "We
'll have to teach you a lesson." "Yes, we must."

  Then they screeched again, "Hee hee!"

  Mitsuru tried a surprise kick at the pimply faced one in front of him, but he was immediately tripped by the one on his left.

  As soon as he fell back, the pimply one kicked him in the face, knocking out his front teeth. The back of his head pounded against the wall that he'd been busy using on his classmate. He felt dizzy. Something hot oozed down the back of his head. Mitsuru tried to get up on all fours, but then the one on his right kicked him in the stomach. Mitsuru groaned and puked. One of them said, "What a fucking mess." Damn, he thought. Bastards…fucking cowards…I could take on any of them if it was just one on one.... But there was nothing he could do now. After all, he'd been the one who deliberately chose a deserted place to intimidate his classmate. There wasn't a chance a teacher would appear. They pressed his right wrist against the floor. One of them carefully pried Mitsuru's index finger back and tucked it under his leather shoe. For the first time in his life Mitsuru experienced real fear. No…this can't be.

  It was. The sole of the shoe came down as Mitsuru's finger made a horrible cracking sound. Mitsuru shrieked. He'd never been in such pain. They kept laughing, "Hee hee hee!" Mitsuru thought. These bastards…they're insane…they're not at all like me…they're crazy…

  They were preparing his middle finger.

  "S-stop…"

  Without an ounce of pride left, Mitsuru begged for mercy, but they ignored his pleas. The same cracking noise came. Mitsuru's middle finger was ruined now. Mitsuru screamed again.

  "Let's have one more then."

  That's when it happened.

  The door to the art classroom suddenly slid open.

  "Can you guys keep it down?" The voice was quiet, though.

  For a moment Mitsuru wondered if it was a teacher. But a teacher would have intervened a lot sooner, and besides, a request to keep it down would have been strange.

  With his back still pressed to the floor Mitsuru glanced over at the door. He wasn't too big, but he was incredibly good looking. He was holding a paint brush. He'd seen him at the class introduction. He was one of Mitsuru's classmates. His family seemed to have recently moved here. No one knew who he was, but since he was quiet and appeared obedient Mitsuru didn't pay much attention to him. Given how his looks were so refined, he probably came from a nice family. Someone like him would do his best to avoid fights, so he was nothing to worry about. But what was he doing in the art classroom? Probably painting, but wasn't that a little strange on the first day of school?