Battle Royale

by Косюн Таками

  "I saw the light."

  Shinji clenched his teeth. It must have come from the flashlight he'd used just that one time to find the pulley. Shinji chided himself, how could he have screwed up like that, rushing to use that flashlight?

  Keita continued, "So I came here and saw that it was you guys...what are you doing? What were you carrying? Rope? Let me...let me join you guys."

  Knowing how their conversations were monitored, Yutaka knit his brow and looked over at Shinji, his eyes opened wide, realizing how Shinji hadn't lowered his gun.

  "Sh-Shinji, what's going on?"

  Shinji moved his open right hand and signaled Yutaka not to move forward. "Yutaka. Don't move."

  "Hey," Keita said. His voice was shaking. "Why are you pointing that at me?"

  Shinji took a deep breath and said to Keita, "Don't move." He could tell Yutaka was getting tense.

  Keita Iijima's pitiful face was visible in the moonlight as he took a step forward.

  "Why? Why won't you let me? Have you forgotten who I am, Shinji? Let me join you guys."

  Shinji cocked his gun with a click. Keita Iijima stopped. They still had plenty of distance, seven or eight meters.

  "Don't come near us," Shinji slowly repeated. "I can't let you join."

  Yutaka whined right beside him, "Why, Shinji? We can trust Keita."

  Shinji shook his head. Then he thought, that's right, there's something you don't know about us, Yutaka. It wasn't a big deal. In fact it was a trivial incident. It happened during their second year near the end of the term in March. Shinji went to Takamatsu to see a movie (there was no movie theater in Shiroiwa) with Keita Iijima. Yutaka was supposed to go too, but he had a cold that day.

  That was how Shinji encountered three tough-looking high school students in a back alley off the main street near the shopping arcade. Shinji and Keita had already seen the movie, and once they were done checking out the book and record stores (Shinji bought imported computer books. They were lucky finds. Even though they were technical books, the government strictly prohibited books from the West so they were difficult to come by), they were heading over to the train station when Keita realized he'd forgot to buy a comic book and went back to the bookstore alone.

  "Hey, you got any dough?" one of the high school students asked. This guy was at least ten centimeters taller than Shinji, who at 1,72 meters was short for a basketball player.

  Shinji shrugged. "I think I have 2,571 yen." The interrogator looked at the other two as if saying, how lame. Then he leaned over by Shinji's ear. Shinji was annoyed. Maybe it was from getting wasted on paint thinner or some wacky drug that was hip these days, in any case the guy's gums were receding, and the smell of his breath coming between his teeth reeked. Brush your teeth, man. The guy said, "Give it up. Come on, now." Shinji gave an exaggerated look of surprise and said, "Oh, so you guys are homeless! You know you should be content with twenty yen then. I actually might give you something if you get on your knees and beg for forgiveness."

  The guy with a gap in his teeth looked surprised while the other two grinned.

  "You still in junior high, right? You should learn to respect your elders," the guy said and grabbed Shinji by the shoulder. He kneed Shinji in the stomach. Shinji tightened his stomach muscles to take the blow. It didn't hurt that much. It was just a threatening knee kick. These guys could never take on someone their own age.

  Shinji calmly pushed the high school student away. Then he said, "What was that? A Russian hug?"

  The guys probably didn't even know where Russia was. But the guy with the gap in his teeth seemed irked by Shinji's tone of voice, and his thin, ugly face contorted.

  "That's it." He punched Shinji in the face. This also didn't hurt much, though the inside of Shinji's mouth got cut.

  Shinji stuck his fingers in his mouth to check the wound. It stung a little. He pulled out his fingers and found blood on them. It was nothing.

  "Come on, give us your wallet."

  Still looking down, Shinji broke into a grin. He looked up. When their eyes met the guy with the gap in his teeth looked intimidated.

  Shinji said playfully, "You made the first move," and then with the motion of a short hook punch he swung the hardcover imported book in his hand into the guy's filthy mouth. He felt the guy's teeth break, his head fly back.

  It took ten seconds for the fight to end. Of course his uncle's teachings had included fighting lessons too. It was trivial.

  What wasn't trivial was something else.

  As he glared at the passers by who were staring at the high school students on the ground, Shinji headed back to the book store and found Keita in the comics section. The book he went back for was already in a shopping bag. He seemed to be browsing aimlessly, and when Shinji called on him, he said, "I'm sorry. I remembered there was another book I wanted... " Then his eyes opened wide and he asked him, "What happened to your mouth?"

  Shinji shrugged and said, "Let's go home." He knew though that Keita had actually turned the street corner for a split second and ducked back when he saw Shinji surrounded by three high school students. Shinji had thought Keita might have gone to call the police. (Well, given how they were so occupied with the suppression of civilians instead of criminals they weren't all that dependable anyway.) Oh, so there was another book you wanted. I see.

  Thanks to this incident, the train ride back to Shiroiwa-cho wasn't much run.

  Keita probably thought Shinji could take on three high school students without any problem. And he was right. Keita probably didn't want to get hurt by getting involved in the fight. And okay, Shinji could understand how the high school students might take note of Keita's face if he'd called the cops. Uh huh. And Keita had no intention of apologizing to Shinji. Sometimes you need to lie to make the world go around.

  These things happen. As his uncle often used to say, cowards can't be faulted for being sly. They can't be held responsible for everything.

  But the cover was torn on the technical book Shinji bought. On top of that, the edge was stained with the guy's saliva and dented by his teeth. That really got Shinji. Every time he'd open that book he'd have to recall that annoying face. On top of that, and he might be called anal retentive for this, but he hated it when his books were torn or dirty. He always put covers on them when he read them.

  His uncle also said this. When you can't accept the results, then you have to punish whoever was responsible for them. Even the score.

  So from then on as a form of punishment Shinji decided to keep his distance from Keita. It wasn't such a severe punishment. After all, it wasn't like he decided they were enemies. They were both better off this way.

  So it was a trivial story. And he'd never shared the incident with Yutaka.

  But maybe trivializing a story like that one could get you killed in this game. This isn't revenge, Uncle. This is what you'd call the real world. I simply can't be friends with him.

  "That's right." In response to Yutaka's statement, Keita Iijima spread his arms. The kitchen knife in his right hand reflected the moonlight. "I thought we were friends."

  Shinji still refused to lower the muzzle of his gun.

  Seeing how adamant Shinji was, Keita looked like he was about to burst into tears. He threw the kitchen knife onto the ground. "See? I don't want to fight. Do you see now?"

  Shinji shook his head. "No. Scram."

  Keita's face flushed with anger. "Why? Why won't you trust me?"

  "Shinji—"

  "Shut up, Yutaka."

  Keita's face froze. He turned quiet...and then said, his voice trembling, "Is it because of what I did that time, Shinji? When I ran off? Is that why you don't trust me, Shinji?"

  Shinji aimed the gun at him without a word.

  "Shinji..." Keita's voice once again turned pathetic. He was practically sobbing, "I'm sorry about that Shinji. I'm so sorry, Shinji—"

  Shinji's lips tightened. He wondered whether Keita was being sincere or whether he putting on an act
. But then he dismissed the thought. I'm not alone. I can't risk Yutaka's life too. There was an aphorism he'd heard claimed by a Defense Minister of some nation, "We must defend ourselves according to our opponents' ability, not their intentions." They were approaching 1 a.m.

  "Shinji, what is going on—"

  Shinji held Yutaka back with his right hand.

  Keita proceeded forward. "Please. I'm so scared. Please let me join."

  "Don't come any closer!" Shinji shouted.

  Keita Iijima shook his sad face left and right and stepped out. He was approaching Shinji and Yutaka.

  Shinji pointed the gun downward and pulled the trigger for the first time. The shell popping out of the Beretta traced a pale white arc in the moonlight and a cloud of dust rose in front Keita's feet. Keita stared at it as if it were some rare chemistry experiment.

  But then he started walking again.

  "Stop! Just stop!"

  "Please let me join. Please."

  Like a wind-up doll Keita stepped forward. Right, left, right.

  Shinji clenched his teeth. If Keita was going to pull out something besides his knife, it would have to come from his right arm.

  Can you aim well? This time it won't be a threat. Accurately? Of course.

  There was no time left. Shinji pulled the trigger again. He felt his finger slip.

  A split second before the popping sound, Shinji suddenly realized that he was sweating. He was sweating from the tension.

  It happened so suddenly. Keita Iijima bent over as if his upper body had been punched in. He spread out his arms like a shotputter does right before throwing a shot, then bent his knees and fell on his back. Even in the dark Shinji could clearly see the blood spurting out of the hole in the right side of his chest like a small fountain. This was also instantaneous.

  "Shinji! What'd you do!" Yutaka screamed and ran to Keita. He knelt beside him and put his hands on Keita's body, his mouth agape. Then after hesitating for a moment he touched his neck. His face went pale. "He's dead... "

  Shinji remained frozen, still holding onto his gun. He felt like he wasn't thinking, but he was. How lame, the voice echoed in his head. Although it was irrelevant, the voice echoed the way it does when you talk to yourself in the shower.

  How lame. I thought you were supposed to be The Third Man, Shinji Mimura, who never missed a shot. The star shooting guard of Shiroiwa Junior High, Shinji Mimura, right?

  Shinji stood up and began to walk forward. As if he'd suddenly turned into a cyborg, his body felt heavy. One day Shinji Mimura woke up to find out that he had become the Terminator. Great.

  He slowly walked over to Keita Iijima's body.

  Yutaka glared back at Shinji.

  "Why, Shinji! Why'd you kill him!?

  Standing motionless, Shinji answered, "I thought we'd be in trouble if Keita had another weapon besides the knife. I aimed for his arm. I didn't mean to kill him."

  Hearing this, Yutaka checked Keita Iijima's body. As if to make a point, he looked through Keita's day pack too. Then he said, "He had nothing! How could you, Shinji!? Why didn't you trust him!?"

  Shinji suddenly felt hollow. But...it was necessary. Hey, Uncle, I didn't do anything wrong, did I? Right?

  Shinji looked down at Yutaka without saying a word. But—that's right—they had to hurry. They couldn't let their mistakes drag them down.

  Right before he was about to say this, something changed in Yutaka's face.

  His lips trembled. He said, "Oh no, Shinji, don't tell me you—"

  Shinji had no idea what he was referring to. He asked, "What?"

  Yutaka quickly stepped back. He distanced himself from Shinji.

  Yutaka spoke through his trembling lips, "Shinji, you didn't do that on purpose—"

  Shinji's lips tightened. He gripped the Beretta in his left hand.

  "You're saying I shot Keita to buy us time? That's..."

  Yutaka frantically shook his head. Then he slowly retreated. "No...no...this whole plan—"

  Shinji knit his brows and stared at Yutaka. Yutaka, what is it you're getting at?

  "This whole thing about our escape, that was just, that was—"

  Yutaka still didn't make any sense, but Shinji whose brains CPU was amazingly fast finally had understood what Yutaka was thinking.

  No, it can't be—

  But what else could it be?

  Yutaka was accusing Shinji of having no intention whatsoever to escape, that he had been planning all along to "play" this game. That's why he shot Keita.

  Shinji's face gave a look of absolute dismay. His mouth might have been hanging open for all he knew.

  Then he shouted, "Don't be stupid! Why the hell would I be with you then!?"

  Yutaka was trembling, shaking his head. "That's... that's..."

  Yutaka didn't say anymore, but Shinji understood that too. He probably wanted to say that Shinji was using him to survive, for instance by having him keep watch so Shinji could sleep. But waitasec here, I used the laptop to take on Sakamochi, and even after that failed, I came up with this other plan. So you're saying since I'm smart I was playing around with the cell phone and laptop to gain your trust and that my hidden intention was to use the gasoline and fertilizer to protect myself and win the game. That since I only had one gun, a special explosive would come in handy to survive in this game? That right before executing the plan to bomb the school I was going to say, "Nah, let's not"? Just like how I'd said, "It's not working" when I was computer hacking? Look, waitasec though, what about that wire we installed by the school? Are you saying I wanted to start a wire-can phone business on this island where all the phone circuits have been shut off? Or you're just saying that was another act? Or that I had some plan you couldn't even conceive of?

  When I said I'd help out after you told me you were going to avenge Izumi Kanai's death, you cried. So my response was another deception?

  That's too much, Yutaka. I mean there's no end to suspicion once you get going. But you're going too far. This is absurd. Really, it's hilarious. Funnier than your jokes. Maybe you're losing it from fatigue.

  That's what Shinji thought on a rational level. And if he could have gone through each explanation step by step then Yutaka would have realized how foolish every one of his suspicions were. In fact, everything Shinji could come up with might not have corresponded to Yutaka's suspicions. It might have been a simple case of fatigue combined with the shock of witnessing his close friend die suddenly giving way to a suspicion lurking somewhere in the back of Yutaka's mind. But...it came to surface because it had been there in the first place, his suspicion towards Shinji. And the thought of suspecting Yutaka had never even occurred to Shinji.

  All of a sudden, the exhaustion he felt was overpowering. A horizontal twelve-cylinder turbo engine. This level of exhaustion is top-class, yessir, it really is a steal, sir.

  Shinji uncocked the Beretta and tossed it over to Yutaka. Yutaka hesitated but received it.

  Emptied out, Shinji threw his hands onto his knees.

  "If you don't trust me then shoot me, Yutaka. I don't care, just shoot me." Crouching, Shinji continued, "I shot Keita to protect you, Yutaka. Damn."

  Yutaka suddenly looked at him blankly. Then ready to burst into tears, he uttered, "Oh...oh..." He ran to Shinji.

  Yutaka put his hand on Shinji's shoulder and began sobbing out loud. Shinji stared down at the ground with his hands on his knees. He realized his eyes too were filled with tears.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was telling himself, hey hey, don't you have more urgent matters to attend to? Look how vulnerable you guys are bickering like this. Have you forgotten, you're surrounded by enemies? Look at your watch for crying out loud, you're out of time...the voice resembled his uncle's.

  But Shinji's nerves were too worn out, his body too tired, and emotions too rattled from Yutaka's suspicion against him to take heed of this warning.

  He merely cried. Yutaka. I was trying to protect you. How could you sus
pect me? I trusted you...but then again, maybe Keita Iijima felt the same way. How horrible to be suspected by someone you trust. I did an awful thing.

  Amidst these worn out emotions of sadness, exhaustion, and regret, Shinji heard a rattling that sounded like the tapping of an old typewriter.

  A split second later, he felt as if burnt tongs were poking through his body.

  The wounds were fatal by then, but the pain made Shinji come to his senses. Yutaka, who had his hand on Shinji's shoulder, fell to the ground. Over at the far end of the farm coop parking lot was a figure in a school coat. He held a gun—something bigger than a pistol. It looked more like a tin box. Shinji realized he'd been shot—of course with bullets, damn—with bullets that had exited through Yutaka's body.

  His body felt hot and stiff (the guy just lanced me with lead bullets, duh), but Shinji reflexively fell to his left and picked up the Beretta Yutaka had taken and dropped. He aimed it at the figure, Kazuo Kiriyama (Male Student No. 6) and fired several times at his stomach.

  Kazuo Kiriyama shifted to the right before the shots got to him, though. Then along with the rattling sound, the tips of his hands flashed like out-of-season fireworks.

  The blows he felt in the right side of his stomach, his left shoulder, and chest were much worse than the one he'd just felt a moment ago. The Beretta fell from his hand.

  But by then Shinji had already begun running toward the farm coop. He staggered for a moment, but then crouched down and dashed off, leaping through the sliding door head first. A stream of bullets chased after him and right when Shinji thought he'd escaped them, it managed to blow off the tip of his right foot's basketball sneaker. This time Shinji grimaced in agony from the pain shooting through his body.

  But he had no time to rest. He grabbed the gas can in the shadow of the sliding door and retreated through the dark where the tractor and combine harvester were, practically crawling on his left arm and left leg. He dragged the gas can with his right hand.

  Blood was pouring out of his mouth. There were at least ten bullets in his body. And despite the sharp pain that shot up from his right foot he managed to glance at the vanished tip of his basketball shoes and thought, I guess I can't play ball anymore. Impossible now. Even if I could I'll never be in the starting lineup. So much for my basketball career.