Koushun Takami - Battle Royale

Then she looked over at Hiroki’s face.

“Long time no see, Hiroki. Are you glad you got to die with your beloved?”

She shook her head, disgusted, and proceeded to walk forward to pick up the Smith & Wesson M59 Kayoko dropped and the Colt Government .45 (which had been Mitsuko’s) Hiroki had tossed aside.

She looked down at the intertwined bodies and put her finger against her lips.

“Now what was that about building a fire?”

Then she shook her head. With her foot she brushed away Kayoko’s skirt covering part of the M59 and reached for the blue gun, when she suddenly heard the rattling sound of an old typewriter.

Her back was pummeled, repeatedly. Her chest burst open with blood. She staggered and felt something hot expand inside her, like burning embers.

She didn’t feel so much the painful shock as she felt dismayed. How could she not have heard someone sneaking up behind her in this mud?

The bullets had done enough damage, but Mitsuko managed to turn around.

There was a boy in a school coat. The unique slicked-back hair, the well-defined face, the gleaming, frigid eyes. It was Kazuo Kiriyama (Male Student No. 6).

Mitsuko squeezed her right hand holding the M19. Her muscles were nearly disabled, but she summoned all her remaining strength and attempted to raise the gun.

Suddenly Mitsuko’s thoughts—despite the fact that she was in a life-or-death confrontation—slipped into another dimension. It only lasted for a split second.

When I spoke to Hiroki Sugimura I said:

“I just decided to take instead of being taken.”

That’s what I said.

When did I become like that? Was it after the time I told Hiroki about, when I was raped by three men? That day I was raped by those men with the video camera in a rundown apartment room in the shabby outskirts of town? Or maybe the moment my drunken mother (I never had a father) left the room when she received the thick envelope (it couldn’t have been that thick) after taking me to that room before “it” happened? From then on? Or… was it after my elementary school teacher, the one person I thought I could trust, kindly addressed me, nearly numb from trauma, and I finally told him exactly what happened, when the look on his face changed, and it happened again? From that point on? In that small, dark reading room after school? Or after my best friend saw it (at least part of it) and instead of offering consolation, spread a rumor (which led to the teacher leaving the school)? Or was it three months later when I resisted my mother, who was trying to take me to do “it” again and accidentally ended up killing her? After getting rid of all the evidence and doing everything to make it look like a break-in, I sat on a swing in the park. From that point on? Or after being taken in by distant relatives, I was repeatedly harassed by their kid, and when the kid accidentally fell from the roof, the mother accused me of killing her since I was with her? From that point on? The father intervened and defended me, but then after a while, this father started fooling around with me. From that point on? Or…

Little by little—no, more like in big chunks, everyone took from Mitsuko. No one gave Mitsuko anything. And so Mitsuko ended up an empty shell. But…

…that didn’t matter.

I am right. I will not lose.

Her arms were suddenly strengthened, and she lifted the gun. The tendons in her wrist rose up, resembling violin strings. Then she pulled the—

The rattling Ingram M10 in Kazuo Kiriyama’s hands fired away a row of four holes that ran from her chest up to the middle of her head. Blood sprayed out of Mitsuko’s mouth. Her upper lip tore. She bent backwards.

Still Mitsuko managed to smile. She regained her footing and pulled the trigger. Over and over.

The four bullets from the chamber struck Kazuo Kiriyama’s chest.

But Kazuo remained calm as he staggered only slightly. Mitsuko didn’t understand why. Kazuo’s Ingram then fired away again.

Mitsuko’s face, once so beautiful, was torn up as if a strawberry pie had been flung into her face. This time her body was blown back—and the next moment she fell back onto the wet ground. By then she was dead. In fact, she may have been dead a while ago. Physically, several seconds ago, mentally, ages ago.

Kazuo Kiriyama walked up to her slowly, and then calmly removed the gun from her hand. He also picked up the Colt Government .45 lying by Hiroki Sugimura’s hand and the M59 Kayoko Kotohiki had tossed aside. He didn’t even bother glancing at the three rain-drenched bodies.

Mizuho Inada (Female Student No. 1) cautiously looked out from the shade of the bushes. Due to the relentless rain her neatly cropped hair stuck to her forehead.

Beyond the bushes there was a narrow farm field, and through the light sheet of rain she saw the back side of a school coat in the middle of the field. His slicked-back hair was also wet from the rain. It was Kazuo Kiriyama (Male Student No. 6).

Kazuo Kiriyama had formed what appeared to be two piles of branches. Now he sat arranging one of the piles.

Mizuho calmed her breathing. It was cold, and she was tired, but she didn’t really mind. After all, she was about to execute her most important mission…

…as a space warrior.

Are you ready, warrior Prexia Dikianne Mizuho?

In her mind, the God of Light Ahura Mazda asked her this. Apparently, this voice came from the spindle-shaped magic crystal (in fact the mail order item was made of glass but Mizuho believed it was crystal) she wore.

Of course, Mizuho responded. I saw that demon walk away after killing Yumiko Kusaka and Yukiko Kitano. I lost track of him, but just found him. And I saw him kill that other demon who killed Kayoko Kotohiki. I must defeat this enemy. And I have followed him this far.

Very well then. So you understand your mission?

Of course, sir. I received your message from the local fortune teller, that I would become a warrior destined to fight evil. I didn’t understand what it meant at the time. But now, now I understand completely.

Are you not scared?

No, sir. With your guidance I have nothing to fear.

You are a surviving member of the Holy Dikianne Tribe. You are a chosen warrior. The light of victory will shine upon you soon. Hm? What is it?

No, no. It’s just that, great Ahura Mazda, my fellow warrior, Lorela Lausasse Kaori was killed—in their former Class B classroom, Kaori Minami, who spent some time hanging out with Mizuho Inada, would restrain herself from yawning every time Mizuho told her, “You’re the warrior Lorela,” but whatever—She…

She fought to the very end, Mizuho.

Ah. Oh, I thought so. But, but, she was defeated by the evil forces.

Uh, well, yes. Well, that was because she was a mere commoner in origins. You are different. In any case, let’s not fuss over the details. The important thing is that you must fight for her sake. And you must win. All right?

Yes, sir.

Okay then. The light. You must have faith in the cosmic light. The light that engulfs you.

The light grew inside her. The great warm cosmic power that encompassed everything. Mizuho nodded again in her brief repose. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Then she pulled the double-bladed knife—when she found the weapon in her day pack she thought it most becoming for a warrior—out of its sheath. She held it up in front of her face. A white light covered the blue blade, and Mizuho looked at Kazuo beyond the light.