Black Bullet, Vol. 1: Those Who Would Be Gods

by Shiden Kanzaki

  Just as he started thinking maybe he had passed them somewhere, he twisted around and discovered a police car parked next to a radio tower that had been bent in half. Rentaro put the brakes on about thirty meters before he reached it in order to keep from making too much noise. Then, he hid the scooter in what appeared to be the ruins of a gas station and approached carefully.

  He wondered why he was sneaking around like this, but for now, he trusted his hunch. He approached the police car, going around through the dilapidated buildings in front of him and cutting in. The first floor of one of the buildings he passed through was only exposed steel beams, and the concrete walls inside were scraped away, with wallpaper and wiring drooping like a horror movie. When he touched it with his hand, something plasterlike peeled off and crumbled away. It was hard to believe that it had only been abandoned for ten years. It was dead silent around him, and there was no sign or shadow of people anywhere.

  Crouching as he approached the police car, he peeked inside, but as he suspected, neither the girl nor the police officers were inside. Disgusted with himself for being inwardly relieved, he turned his attention to the radio tower facility, and began moving toward it. Going under the broken iron fence, he heard unexpected voices and hurriedly leaned his back against a nearby wall.

  Slowly peeking around the corner, he saw the backs of the skinny spectacled officer and the crew cut officer. A little distance away, made to stand in front of the iron fence, was the girl from earlier, unmoving. She must have had some idea of what was going to happen to her, and turned pale and shook with uneasiness.

  The officers with their backs facing him turned quiet, and Rentaro gulped in the uneasy atmosphere. As he frowned, wondering what in the world would happen next, the silence was suddenly broken by a gunshot.

  Blood gushed from the girl’s head, and she fell to her knees. She slowly touched her head and looked at the blood that dripped from it, trying desperately to understand what had just happened. Then, like raindrops came a rush of bullets, and her stomach, chest, arms, and legs were riddled with holes. Her body twitched as if she had been shocked, and she was thrown into the iron fence behind her.

  “Shit, she’s still alive?!” As the skinny spectacled officer approached her, he shot three more bullets into her head. The girl fell forward onto the ground, and as a torrent of blood flowed out from where she landed, she stopped moving.

  Rentaro covered his mouth with both hands, swallowing the scream that wanted to spill out of him.

  The police officers looked as if they had been cursed by something and looked left and right, quickly running away from the scene.

  With shaking legs, Rentaro walked over to the girl, got on his knees, and put his hands together. Damn it, Rentaro cursed inwardly. Holding her upright, he hugged her, not caring about getting his clothes dirty. He could feel her body growing cold from blood loss, and Rentaro shook with the rage that welled up within him.

  Wasn’t it the job of the civsec officers to bring justice to the innocent citizens? To protect the innocent citizens? And be a champion of justice? Damn it, why the hell did I just watch? I did nothing while a child was being murdered in front of my own eyes! What is right? What is wrong? Who is the enemy I should defeat, anyway?

  Rentaro succumbed to his unbearable thoughts and shook his head vehemently. At that moment, the girl in his arms choked and coughed up blood. Rentaro opened his mouth slightly. She was alive. She could still be saved. Before he knew it he was running, the girl in his arms.

  IT WAS AROUND 2:00 A.M.

  In the spring night’s lingering chill, so unlike the daytime weather, Rentaro staggered home. He didn’t know if it was from exhaustion or not, but he had an almost unbearable thirst and a pounding headache. A lot happened that day, so it could have been the aftershocks of everything.

  Now that he thought about it, holding a thirty-something kilogram girl in one arm and driving a scooter took extraordinary strength, but in his desperation, he hadn’t felt her weight. It was probably the same as how some people drew out great strength during a house fire.

  As soon as the girl reached the hospital, the ER doctors took her, and she disappeared into the operating room. As the operation took place, Rentaro sat on a chair in the hall being asked questions by another doctor. The doctor made an unpleasant expression when he heard that the girl was from the Outer District and had no relatives. Occasionally, if they operated on an orphan from the Outer District with no family registry, let alone insurance, they would not be able to get the operation fee from anyone, and the hospital would have to bear the cost. If Rentaro had not said he would cover the cost at that time, at the last moment, he probably would have been fed the transparent lie that there were no surgeons available.

  At the end of the eight-hour-long operation, the girl narrowly escaped death. The fact that the bullets were small in caliber, that they were not Varanium but regular lead shots, that as one of the Cursed Children, she had miraculous powers of regeneration, and that she had a tough skull—if any one of those factors were lacking, she would not have been saved, the surgeon who operated on her explained. Thankfully, the graying doctor was someone who understood the circumstances. He said, “You should tell the police who it was who shot her as soon as possible,” but Rentaro only said good-bye with a bitter smile.

  He was honestly glad that she had been saved, but he couldn’t completely rejoice when he thought of the operation fee and the cost of the hospital stay that he would have to pay later. On the highway in the middle of the night, Rentaro conscientiously stopped at the traffic light, but looking around, there were no signs of pedestrians or even cars anywhere.

  After a while, he finally saw his eight-tatami-mat apartment. The lights were off. Of course, Enju would not be awake so late into the night, but he had hoped that maybe she would be, so he felt a tinge of loneliness.

  “You seem tired, Satomi.”

  He drew his gun reflexively and pointed it at the voice. Looking slowly behind him, there was a gun pointed at the tip of his nose, as well.

  Before it had been customized, it had probably been a Beretta, and in the gas port at the top, there was a muzzle spike attached for close quarters combat. On the large stabilizer to reduce the kickback at the mouth of the gun, there was a bayonet housing attachment. There was also a long extension magazine with extra bullets. On the left side of the slide, there was a party seal that said, “Give the life with dignity.” On the right, it said, “Otherwise, give the death as a martyr.” Embedded in the grip was a medallion modeled after the evil god, Cthulhu. Sharp spikes covered the angles of the weapon. And the one holding the gun was—

  “That’s an evil-looking gun you have, Kagetane Hiruko,” said Rentaro.

  Kagetane laughed. “Good evening, Satomi.” The mysterious masked man in the tailcoat suddenly lowered his gun. Surprisingly, he had another custom Beretta in a different color. “This black one here is the machine pistol, Spanking Sodomy, and the silver one is called Psychedelic Gospel. My beloved handguns.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Actually, I came to talk to you. Won’t you lower your gun, too?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, dear.” Kagetane snapped his fingers with a click. “Kohina, cut off that troublesome right arm.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  As Rentaro reflexively jumped backward, the sound of wind accompanied a lighting-speed slash that came at the place where Rentaro had been. Before he knew it, a girl wearing a black dress appeared next to Kagetane. Kohina made a troubled face and looked like she was about to cry. “Come on, don’t move, or I’ll cut off your head by accident,” she said.

  Chills ran along his back, and he broke into a cold sweat. Crap, I couldn’t see her sword at all. The next time she attacks—

  Again, Kohina kicked up a cloud of dust and disappeared from sight. Even straining his eyes, he couldn’t follow her movements. Rentaro thought he was done for and squeezed his eyes shut.

  W
ith a clang, two bodies collided in midair and were blown apart with the sounds of scraping. Surprised comments came from both sides.

  “I couldn’t kick her?” said one voice.

  “What? I couldn’t slash her?” said another.

  “Enju!” Rentaro yelled. Next to Rentaro was Enju, with scorching red eyes.

  “Rentaro! Who are they?” Enju asked.

  “The enemy.”

  Kohina stood with her two swords out as if protecting Kagetane. Her personality seemed to change 180 degrees from her earlier timidity, and she stood firmly on the ground with her Varanium blades crossed in her unique stance. “Be careful, Papa. That one over there… She’s strong. She is probably a kicking specialist Initiator.”

  “Oh?” said Kagetane. “You must have a pretty good Initiator for Kohina to think so highly of her.”

  Kohina screamed, “You little squirt over there. Tell me your name!”

  Enju hopped up and down until her face turned red. “You are little, as well. How rude! I am Enju. Enju Aihara, a Model Rabbit Initiator!”

  Kohina kept her face down and grumbled softly to herself. “Enju, Enju, Enju… All right, I’ll remember. I am Model Mantis, Kohina Hiruko. In close combat, I am invincible.” Kohina changed completely and pulled on Kagetane’s sleeve with a sad expression. “Um, can I kill the rabbit? I’ll just leave her head, so can I kill her?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you, silly girl,” said Kagetane. “You may not.”

  “Aw, I hate you, Papa!”

  Kagetane said, “Oh, dear,” and fixed the placement of his silk hat, then turned back to Rentaro. “It looks like things have gotten complicated. Do you want to fight?”

  Rentaro kept an eye on Kagetane without letting his guard down and looked around. They were in a residential neighborhood, so if they fought here, there would be more meaningless victims. After biting his bottom lip hard, Rentaro lowered his gun. “Hurry up and say what you have to say, moron. I’m sleepy and still have to study for a quiz next week.”

  Kagetane snickered behind his mask and put his gun back in its holster, holding his arms wide open magnanimously with the moon as a backdrop. “Let me get straight to the point. Satomi, will you join me?”

  “What did you say?!”

  “For some reason, I’ve liked you ever since I first saw you. I thought it’d be a waste to kill you. If you join me, then I won’t.”

  “I’m still a civsec officer, you know.”

  “What of it? I am a former civsec officer myself. Unfortunately, there will soon be a wild storm that will bring Great Extinction to Tokyo Area. At the moment, I have some strong backup. If you become my ally, you can have money, women, power… I will give you anything you want.”

  Rentaro did not say a word.

  “Satomi, have you ever thought you wanted to change this unreasonable world? That the way Tokyo Area works is wrong? Have you ever thought that, even once?”

  Before he knew it, the image of the girl whose name he didn’t even know resurfaced from the back of his mind. Her head flew back in slow motion, and blood spurted from her forehead. The blood dripped slowly, getting absorbed by the ground. There was the girl, with her eyes refusing to accept what happened, the police officers whose mouths twisted in evil pleasure, and Rentaro, too cowardly to run out to save her because he was afraid he would be killed to keep his mouth shut.

  Seeing Rentaro’s hesitation, Kagetane pulled out a white cloth from his pocket and covered the ground, counting to three. When he pulled the cloth off, an attaché case appeared beneath it. “From what I hear, apparently, you are not doing very well economically.” Kagetane used his foot to slide the attaché case over to Rentaro. When the case stopped in front of Rentaro, the lid popped open. Inside, it was stuffed with stacks of bills. “This is just a small gift to express my feelings.”

  Rentaro stared at the stacks of bills without moving an inch.

  “I hear you make that Enju over there pretend to be human and have her go to school? Why would you do that? Those girls are the shape of the next generation of humans that have gone beyond the current Homo sapiens. The only ones left after the Great Extinction will be us, the strong. Join me, Rentaro Satomi.”

  Rentaro kicked the attaché case back with all his strength and shot it three times with his gun. The case jumped, and the bills were riddled with holes. Some of them floated out of the case like petals.

  Kagetane looked at the attaché case riddled with holes for a while. “You have made a grave mistake, Satomi.”

  “Mistake? If I made a mistake, it was that I didn’t kill you when I first met you, Kagetane Hiruko!”

  “Fool! Will you insist on completing your jobs till the end? No matter how hard you work for them, they will only keep betraying you.”

  Rentaro glared at Kagetane. Kagetane glared back at Rentaro. Rentaro wasn’t sure how long this went on, but after a while, they could hear the siren of the police car coming to investigate the gunshots.

  Kagetane sighed. “We will pick this up again later, Satomi. I don’t like doing things this way very much…but see what happens when you go to school tomorrow. You need to start looking at reality.” Throwing that last line at Rentaro, he took a big leap backward and melted into the darkness.

  Staring in the direction Kagetane disappeared, Rentaro asked Enju, “What do you think of his Initiator?”

  “She’s strong,” she said. “Frighteningly so.”

  “Can you beat her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I see…”

  The burden of Kagetane’s last words to him as they parted weighed down on Rentaro, and he couldn’t erase them from his memory.

  2

  “Is that true?” Rentaro stood as he squeezed his cell phone tightly. A number of his classmates who were idly chatting stopped in surprise and looked in his direction. Rentaro quickly lowered his voice. “I-I’ll be there immediately.” After folding his cell phone shut, he dashed out onto the school grounds and ran two buildings over to Magata Elementary School.

  Hastily taking off his shoes and putting on the visitor slippers at the entrance, he went to the staff room and grabbed Enju’s homeroom teacher, who was just about to head to the classroom. His face was pale and thin, and there were large circles under his eyes. He was shorter than Rentaro, but even though it wasn’t that hot, he kept dabbing his handkerchief on his forehead, and his eyeballs protruded like he was nervous. “Oh, you’re the guardian…”

  “What is going on? Is Enju really—?” Rentaro drew closer to him with a threatening look. Even though he knew that it was useless taking things out on her homeroom teacher, he couldn’t control his feelings.

  The man answered incoherently as he took quick glances at Rentaro. “Yes, the rumor that Aihara is one of the Cursed Children appeared from somewhere. At lunch, the…harassment…directed at her began.”

  “I can’t believe it… But…did Enju…deny it…?”

  The teacher looked down as he began to dab his forehead repeatedly with his handkerchief. That was better than any answer. “Satomi, you had Aihara attend this school without telling any of us that she was one of the Cursed Children.”

  “If I had told you beforehand, wouldn’t you all have just found a reason to refuse to admit her?”

  The teacher looked away from Rentaro and started wiping his mouth with his handkerchief again. “I had Aihara leave school early because of the shock. I have no right to ask this, but will you go be with her, Satomi?”

  Rentaro didn’t remember what path he took to go home. Unlocking the door, he entered the apartment panting, and a silent chill touched his skin. Enju was not there. She wasn’t anywhere.

  His whole body shook with chills, and even taking off his shoes seemed to take too long. He checked the bath and restroom and opened all the closets. She wasn’t there. He started to turn pale at the thought that maybe she hadn’t even made it home, but opening her clothes dresser, he saw traces that she had at
least been there once.

  As Rentaro fell into a panic, he let out a deep breath and bent his knees, fumbling around in his pocket to call Enju’s cell phone. She seemed to have turned off her phone, so he sent her a few texts. He did not receive any response.

  Rentaro took deep breath after deep breath and told himself, It’s all right. This is Enju’s only home. Rentaro kept waiting.

  But in the end, Enju did not return home that day.

  3

  Rentaro opened his eyes slightly at the sound of a soft tapping in the distance. The first thing that came into the field of his blurry and hazy vision was the brown ceiling. The grain of the ceiling changed shape with a twist and turned into a person being chased by a boar. The person was fleeing desperately, but it looked like the boar would catch them soon.

  He woke up with a start, and turned his neck to look around the room. He was alone. Enju hadn’t changed her mind and come home. His stomach was heavy with disappointment, and a headache that seemed like it was lying in wait attacked, making him crouch where he stood.

  Looking out the window, the rain on the glass distorted the view. That was the source of the tapping earlier. His eyelids felt heavy and cramped, and he felt worse than when he went to sleep. He was nauseated now, too. Pulling the clock toward him to look at the time, he saw that it was seven a.m. It had only been about fifty minutes since he’d fallen asleep.

  Because he hadn’t eaten anything since the incident happened yesterday, his stomach was so empty that it hurt, but he didn’t feel like cooking for himself. With his hazy vision and his head feeling like it was full of mud, Rentaro crawled to the fridge and, finding a half-full milk container, drank it dry. It tasted like bitter, half-solidified saliva. He cracked open a raw egg on the side of the fridge and dumped what was inside into his mouth, then chewed some mustard greens and lettuce in desperation. His own actions shocked him, given that he was usually proud of the fact that he liked cooking.