Ningen Series Volume 1 Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Naguma Sawarabi (2)

My dear brother.

I am sad.

I am mortified.

How very repugnant it is.

My incompetence.

My fragility.

My powerlessness.

I am weak.

So very, very weak.

Unable to arrive anywhere.

Unable to reach anything.

Unable to help anyone.

Only dragging the both of you down.

Always, always getting in your way.

Perhaps this is a fitting end to my life.

Suitable for a halfwit like me.

A suitable exit.

But Brother.

My dear brother.

I am sad.

My own fragility is terribly saddening.

I am mortified.

My own weakness is terribly mortifying.

How very repugnant it is.

My own transience is terribly repugnant.

I had believed.

I had kept on believing.

It had been the truth.

I had been so sure it was the truth.

And yet, it was plundered.

And yet, it was murdered.

I lost everything.

How light.

How light I have become.

I no longer have a thing to my name.

Why?

And yet—why?

In this moment—I have been given peace.

As if I were set free from something—I am finally at peace.

Although I am sad.

Although I am mortified.

Although it is repugnant.

I feel so free.

It had never occurred to me until now.

I had never thought about it until now.

But I believe I may have been pushing myself all this time.

Perhaps.

I pretended to be tough when I was fragile.

I pretended to be strong when I was weak.

I pretended to be resolute when I was transient.

Forcing myself through everything.

Always causing trouble for you two.

I cannot say anything with certainty.

I don’t know anything.

I didn’t know anything.

But that was for the best.

I don’t need anything.

I didn’t need anything.

I just wanted to be with you two, my dear brothers.

As long as I could be with you—that was enough.

And for that.

For that and that alone—I have pushed myself all this time.

No “perhaps” about it.

I pretended to be tough when I was fragile.

I pretended to be strong when I was weak.

I pretended to be resolute when I was transient.

Forcing myself through everything.

And so.

To die like this—feels so very pleasant.

I am not sad.

I am not mortified.

I do not find it repugnant.

Everyone—including myself.

I can forgive anyone and everyone.

I am so, so sorry.

My heart is full of regret.

Please do not forgive me.

I implore of you, don’t ever forgive me.

I am so content.

I’m so sorry for feeling content in a moment like this.

Brother…

Are you sad, Brother?

Are you mortified, Brother?

Do you find it repugnant, Brother?

Brother, are you sad?

Brother, are you mortified?

Brother, do you find it repugnant?

Brother.

Say, Brother.

What are we, really?

What are we, in essence?

Why are we—why are you…

Why are we siblings the way that we are?

Why did things end up this way?

No one ever allowed us to choose.

No one ever allowed us to learn.

What does it mean to die?

What does it mean—to kill?

✦   ✦

“…”

She had come to terms with it just moments ago, but on second thought, she hadn’t come to terms with it in any way, shape, or form. It was all well and good that he had tied up her hands. She could even generously overlook that he had tied her ankles together. But why on earth would he link both of them together? She was more than just paralyzed; her spine was making an uncomfortable creaking sound. She couldn’t even hope to crawl across the floor in her current state. Just staying still was already painful enough.

Iori was hopelessly indignant.

Or to put it plainly, she was p.i.s.sed off.

“…If I do this… and this…”

Mustering up every last bit of strength she had in her body, Iori flipped herself face up. Doing that took a bit of the strain off her back. Iori finally had a moment to catch her breath, but this was no time to be taking a breather. If she was comfortable enough to relax, she was comfortable enough to think.

For instance—that’s right.

That’s right—now that she had flipped herself over, she might be capable of a limited amount of movement. In that case—if she was able to cover a short distance…

She could go check on the neighboring room.

The corpses of her family.

Her father.

Her mother.

Her sister.

Her brother.

She could make sure of them with her own two eyes.

“…”

But—in the end, Iori gave up on that idea.

The biggest reason was that her back hurt, but it wasn’t only that; simply, she felt the action would be meaningless. There may be some sort of point in keeping a diary, but rereading that diary is never going to alter the past. The moment Naguma Sawarabi said he had disposed of them, there was no more hope for mercy left. There was no logic behind it; one look at Naguma’s eyes was enough to tell you that for a fact. That… was the way that was.

So there was no need for Iori to go check.

It wasn’t necessary.

“…Huh?”

Necessary?

Necessary—is that what she had just thought?

What was that about?

What an awfully cold thing to think.

It had been the same with Yasumichi Kagawa—she hadn’t felt any apprehension back then, either—but this time was different. This wasn’t some cla.s.smate she barely knew; this was her own family. Considering things in terms of necessity when it came to her own flesh and blood—wasn’t that a bit too unfeeling?

Huh?

What kind of slipup was that?

Am I… acting a little bit strange?

Have I… gone a little bit crazy?

Besides, there was always some small possibility that he had been lying, and even if he had disposed of them, with the right kind of treatment, there was still some hope they could be resuscitated.

“Possibility… and hope, was it?”

Those words were what Soushiki—Soushiki Zerozaki—had called Iori.

She didn’t have the slightest clue what he had meant by it.

She had no idea what he had been trying to say.

Iori couldn’t understand the majority of the things that came out of his mouth.

At the very least, he didn’t seem to be an enemy.

At least for now—he seemed to be an ally.

He seemed willing to rescue her.

“But he’s not my big brother…”

Seriously, who would want a brother like that?

Big Brother.

Bro.

Brother Dearest.

It didn’t make a difference how she said it.

“…Ugh…”

Lying face up had taken some of the strain off her back, but she could feel her legs slowly starting to ache in her new position. Iori wasn’t particularly flexible to begin with. Bending forwards 90 degrees and backwards 13 degrees was the limit of what she could handle. If she held her current pose for much longer, it wouldn’t be long before metal fatigue(?) set in and she broke a bone.

“There are a lot of things I should be giving some serious thought to right now… How come all I’m allowed to think about is the pain in my thighs…?”

Complaining wasn’t going to get her anywhere.

For lack of any other options, Iori tilted herself so that her weight would be shifted to her upper body. She a.s.sumed that doing so would take some of the burden off her legs. However, that turned out to be a huge mistake.

It was her neck.

Her neck made a loud crack.

It was a stomach-churning kind of sound.

“Aghhhhhh!”

Iori let out a scream like a dinosaur with its Achilles tendon cut, rolling around atop the living room floor. Of course, her current posture wasn’t very conducive to “rolling around.” A symphony of creaking—no, snapping sounds rang out from her arms, her legs, her hands, her feet, her back, her chest, and once again, her neck. There are those in the world who will partake in the cruelty of dropping a cat on a hot metal plate and watching it dance across the surface, and that was the first thing this particular spectacle was likely to bring to mind.

After slamming her body against a wall, Iori’s writhing finally came to a stop. If that living h.e.l.l had continued for even ten more seconds, in complete seriousness, Iori would have broken a bone. That wireframe man had done quite the job tying her up. Was there some kind of trick to it? Or maybe there was some kind of secret behind the elastic string itself.

“Whew… Anyway, that was a close call for lil ol’ Iori.”

And then…

After successfully escaping the danger she had inadvertently thrown herself into, she looked up at the wall she had hit her back against—and was shocked by what she saw.

It wasn’t a wall.

Iori was still near the center of the living room, positioned far from any of the walls. In that case, what was it that had saved Iori from the threat of a broken bone—given that Naguma had, after all, slashed away all the furniture earlier?

It was a man.

“…Huh? Ah…”

How long had he been there?

She wasn’t given enough time to wonder that.

Rather, before she could even get a good glimpse of the stranger…

“Excellent. This saves me time.”

Iori lost consciousness.

The man was holding a j.a.panese sword.

✦   ✦

The continuous sound of metal clashing against metal echoed through the area.

The blade of a naginata and the blades of scissors.

Naguma Sawarabi and Soushiki Zerozaki.

A hitman and a psycho killer.

Each of the blades of Soushiki Zerozaki’s Mind Render was double-edged, making for a total of four ways he could attack. When he went on the defensive, using the scissors’ cutting edge to block an attack would accelerate the deterioration of the weapon, so by necessity, he always used the ridges of the blades—or sometimes the handle—to defend himself. Of course, in a worst case scenario, he would have no choice but to catch the blow with one of the blades, leaving things up to a pure contest of strength.

A worst case scenario.

And—this had been the tenth “worst case” thus far.

“…Color me surprised,” Soushiki muttered, after retreating five steps in one giant leap and putting some distance between himself and Naguma. “It really is quite impressive—that naginata of yours.”

He had just enough time to adjust his grip on his scissors, but Naguma quickly closed the gap between them, his naginata held high above his head. They had been repeating that same pattern over and over. The moment Soushiki tried to enter Naguma’s range, Naguma would strike first, chase Soushiki out of his sphere, and then close that distance himself—rinse and repeat.

“…In any case, those are some fast strikes.”

He caught a blow with one of the blade ridges.

A metallic clang rang out.

Although he was a slender man, he was as strong as his towering physique would suggest; under normal circ.u.mstances, he could have used that same motion to send both weapon and opponent flying. However, it took every last bit of his strength just to block the strike from Naguma’s naginata.

“…In other words, it’s not just fast; it’s heavy, too.”

The principle of leverage, centrifugal force—and the wielder’s own physical strength. The combination of all three factors made for a tremendous display of power. Soushiki was doing everything he could to counter and to crush that force, but even then, his arms had begun to lose feeling.

As soon as he saw Naguma draw his naginata back, with only a moment’s delay, Soushiki finally took aim at Naguma’s throat with the edge of Mind Render’s blade, but…

“…But it won’t reach.”

His strike missed.

It could hardly be called a dodge. Naguma had merely shifted himself half a step to the side. That one motion had completely eliminated the need for Naguma to parry Soushiki’s blade, Soushiki’s attack.

In contrast, it had been some time since Soushiki had evaded even a single strike of Naguma’s naginata. If they kept reiterating their current pattern, it wouldn’t be long before the blade of the naginata burrowed itself into Soushiki’s flesh.

“Then, instead of running, I should move further in…”

A slash.

Soushiki rotated the handle of his scissors to hold them in an underhand grip, then used the renowned length of his arms to invade his opponent’s territory in a single stretch. From there, the blade could easily reach Naguma. Moreover, the attack range of the opponent’s blade—the naginata’s “edge”—didn’t include short range targets. The greatest weakness of a pole weapon: that is its effectiveness in close quarters combat…

Or so Soushiki had a.s.sumed, but that was a big mistake.

It was short-sighted.

Naguma spun his naginata around and used the end of the shaft—the part of the weapon called the “ishizuki”—to strike Soushiki in the stomach. The attack employed a full revolution worth of centrifugal force, so it packed quite the punch. Although Soushiki hadn’t been hit with the blade end, all that meant was that he hadn’t been cut. The moment he staggered back a step from the impact, another blow from the metal-adorned shaft erupted against his torso. Despite his interest in history, Soushiki possessed very limited knowledge about traditional martial arts and thus had no way of knowing, but wielders of pole weapons like naginata, spears, and nagamaki will often be masters of the staff arts of bojutsu and jojutsu as well. Therefore, an attack with a polearm doesn’t have to use the blade—it can come from any part of the weapon. That made the weapon leagues more practical than Soushiki’s scissors, which only had four areas of attack.

“…And as a result…”

Soushiki was forcefully expelled from Naguma’s...o...b..t.

In the next moment, yet another strike.

The sound of metal.

The eleventh worst case scenario.

“—Hold it, time out, time out!”

Without thinking, Soushiki raised his voice.

This was a disaster. If they continued for much longer, it wouldn’t just damage the blade; Mind Render would reach the end of its life span then and there. There was no replacing that beloved blade of his. The moment it broke, it was all over.

Naguma showed a bit of hesitation over Soushiki’s request for an intermission, but ultimately, he came to a stop just as he had been taking a step forward. Soushiki’s pathetic cry must have dampened his enthusiasm for the fight.

“…I really ought to apologize. Allow me to take back what I said earlier. I utterly underestimated you. I said something about ‘giving me a good workout,’ didn’t I? How embarra.s.sing. That was shameful, downright shameful.”

“…Wouldn’t you put up a better fight if you didn’t use such a ridiculous weapon?” Naguma voiced the question that had evidently been nagging at him for a while. “My naginata isn’t exactly standard, either—but fighting with a pair of scissors is a bit much. That’s how an elementary school student would arm themselves. We don’t call that a weapon. It’s just stationery.”

“Stationery, hm…? I’m actually quite attached to this weapon, you see. On a personal level.”

“If you stopped bothering yourself with worthless things like ‘attachment’ and wielded something like this naginata, or maybe even a sword or a knife, I’m sure you could become a talented pract.i.tioner, Mr. Mind Render.”

“I told you, didn’t I? Killing isn’t a job to us Zerozaki. It’s not a hobby, either. It’s a way of life—but if that choice of words doesn’t get the idea across, then, hmm, I suppose you could call it ‘fun.’ All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, does it not?”

“And did you really believe that someone who kills for fun could win against someone who takes killing seriously?”

“Oh dear, already using the past tense? Still, I’ll refrain from calling you conceited. I don’t care to make the same mistake twice.” Soushiki shook his head facetiously. “However—perhaps there’s no need for me to ask, but if I’m going to be fighting with my back to the wall, that’s all the more reason I have to know. What is your goal—the Sawarabi’s goal—in this whole affair?”

In response to that remark of Soushiki’s, laden with the implication that he wouldn’t give a d.a.m.n about the goal of an easily defeated opponent, Naguma neither answered nor relaxed his stance. After observing Naguma’s reaction with a, “Hmm,” Soushiki pressed on.

“From the start, none of this made much sense to me. The Sawarabi are a branch family of the Niounomiya, correct? Those people are truly the hitmen among hitmen, a purebred family line of slaughter. They would never do something as boorish as using Marionettes. You all are the ant.i.thesis of the ant.i.thesis of the ant.i.thesis of those ‘Tokinomiya’ brainwashers; I a.s.sumed such methods would lie outside your skill set and your paradigm.”

“…”

“Why would you go so far as to bend your principles in order to oppose the Zerozaki—to oppose us? I don’t mean to parrot what you said earlier—but a ‘Sawarabi’ ought to know what the terror of the Zerozaki Family entails.”

The mysterious band of psycho killers—the Zerozaki Family.

There are no common characteristics shared among the members of the clan, no rules that must be followed by the members of the clan, and no taboos that must not be broken by members of the clan. Only one thing can be said for sure.

Anyone who does harm to the family will be ma.s.sacred.

“…Conversely, so long as someone doesn’t raise a hand against us first, we’ll do our best to keep ourselves in check. That goes all the more for a pacifist like me. And it goes all the more for those like you, who only think of killing as part of your job. It’s not as though you’re going to get killed by one of us in a fluke accident.”

“…Oh, yes, I know all about that.”

Naguma grit his teeth hard enough to make a sound—and answered.

“Of course I would. My little sister was killed by the Zerozaki Family.”

“…Oho.”

Naturally—a bit of surprise seeped into Soushiki’s expression.

“You were a set of three siblings, if my memory serves me right… The oldest brother, a swordsman. The middle brother, a naginata user. And the younger sister—an archer.”

“That’s right. She was called Yumiya Sawarabi, named for the very bow she wielded[1]—and she was my precious little sister. The one I’d even call my pride and joy—my sister. Together with my brother, the three of us made for an invincible combination.”

“A short-range sword, a mid-range naginata, and a long-range bow, hm? If you ignore how anachronistic that is, it does sound like the three of you would make for a tough opponent.” He was having a hard enough time dealing with only one of them, the mid-range fighter Naguma. Soushiki couldn’t imagine what would happen if all three of them were together. “…And you’re saying the one who broke through your formation was a member of our Family?”

“For the sake of upholding the Sawarabi’s reputation, if you’ll allow me to make an excuse—Yumiya and I were alone at the time. My brother had stepped out for a bit.”

“I’m sure the two of you were still a force to be reckoned with. To be perfectly honest, if someone were shooting a bow alongside your attacks, I don’t think I would stand much of a chance. Say, would you mind telling me? The Zerozaki who killed your sister—what kind of psycho killer was he?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know his name. If you exclude Soushiki Zerozaki the ‘Mind Render,’ the only real celebrities among the Zerozaki are ‘Peril Point,’ ‘Seamless Bias,’ and at best, maybe ‘Bolt Keep,’ too. You’re too mysterious, the lot of you. That’s why we had to resort to such roundabout, disagreeable methods. …He was some kid I’d never seen before. I guess you could call the tattoo on his face his defining feature.”

“…I see.”

Soushiki Zerozaki’s face took on a serious look. Or, no—perhaps not serious, but a somber, troubled expression.

A kid—with a face tattoo.

And on top of that, a psycho killer.

A Zerozaki skilled enough to pick a fight with the second son and only daughter of the Sawarabi and ultimately break through their defenses…

That was all Soushiki needed to hear.

In other words—that was how it was.

This was all a direct consequence of his little brother’s negligence.

“…That little brat. He left an enemy alive, did he?”

What… naivety.

Did he do it on a whim, was he simply unable to kill them both, or did he just let his enemy get away? Soushiki had no way of knowing—though based on what he knew of his little brother’s personality, the first possibility seemed most likely—but either way, as a member of the Zerozaki Family, for him to make two enemies and kill only one was the height of folly. To simply kill a foe wasn’t enough; that would leave grudges and hatred behind. It would leave behind rage and resentment, chagrin and sadness.

Only through complete ma.s.sacre would fear and trepidation be born.

Those who kill cannot survive but by killing.

Making two enemies and killing twenty people—that was the Zerozaki Family.

That fool of a brother… I thought I had already taught him that.

“…I get it now. So your motive is revenge.”

“Does that seem too old-fashioned to you?”

Naguma shuffled forward, closing the distance between him and Soushiki. It was his way of saying that depending on the answer, he would go right back to slashing.

“To kill for a reason like that in this day and age—not to mention, for a ‘working’ man, as you’d put it, to oppose the Zerozaki Family—do you find that idiotic?”

“…Not at all. I whole-heartedly support you.”

That answer was not an example of Soushiki’s trademark self-effacement, nor was it sarcasm. It was true, genuine approval. No, not approval; it was a much more proactive emotion. He had begun to feel like the young man standing before him, who he had been fighting to the death just moments ago—the second son of the Sawarabi, which, despite their aversion to being grouped together, was a branch family of the Niounomiya—was a friend he had known for over a decade.

Revenge—for his little sister.

For his little sister.

For his family.

Braving the danger of opposing the Zerozaki Family, discarding his own principles and using Marionettes to investigate—all so he could avenge his little sister.

Admirable.

Absolutely admirable.

Beautiful.

“…”

But of course.

That didn’t mean that he was no longer willing to kill him, or that he was willing to be killed by him. That was a completely different issue, separate enough to be a dimension apart.

“Naguma-kun. I’d like you to tell me just one thing—who struck first?”

“Ah?”

“…No, never mind. I suppose that doesn’t matter. No matter who struck first or how it happened, it doesn’t change the fact that my little brother killed your little sister; it’s all the same. My little brother’s negligence is still my little brother’s negligence. …I’ve had enough poking fun at you. No more games. I’ll fight you seriously.”

After saying that, Soushiki removed the screw that held Mind Render together—and dismantled the weapon into two blades.

Then, with one in his right hand, and the other in his left…

He wielded the weapon with both hands.

“…Hehe.”

Naguma Sawarabi laughed.

“Hehe—hehehe. Now it’s starting to look more like a weapon—Mr. Mind Render. But whether you have one blade or two, they still aren’t long enough to reach my neck.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Ukyounosuke-kun.”

Soushiki grinned and took a step forward.

“I’m going to step right into your territory—then if a slash comes from the right, I’ll catch it using my left hand, and if a slash comes from the left, I’ll catch it using my right hand. Next, I’ll take whichever knife I have left—and throw it straight into your windpipe.”

“…Throw it?”

“All that talk about your sister gave me a hint. In the face of a projectile attack, the distance between opponents means nothing. Of course, a regular attack with a throwing knife would be brushed aside by your staff arts, but if it’s a counter—then there’s no need to worry about that.”

Slashing and stabbing aren’t the only ways to use a knife. There are a great number of knives designed for throwing—and now that it had been dismantled from its scissors form, Mind Render could serve that purpose quite efficiently.

The only challenge was that he would have to catch Naguma’s stroke using the ridges on only one blade—using only one arm—and what’s more, using an arm that had already been numbed out over the course of the battle. Soushiki was fully aware of that—and of course, Naguma could see that, too.

“Do you really think the first step of your plan is possible? A counter… That isn’t a bad idea. As they always say, whenever you attack someone, you inevitably leave an opening in your defenses. However—I could say the same to you. I’m sure you understand how difficult it is to defend yourself whilst trying to attack, don’t you, Mr. Mind Render? And that goes all the more in the face of my naginata,” said Naguma.

“It doesn’t matter,” spoke Soushiki, sidling closer. “That doesn’t matter at all. This is no longer a matter of what’s possible or impossible, Naguma Sawarabi-kun. I’ve explained my strategy aloud as a gesture of enmity. My sincerity—perhaps that’s what you could consider it. There is no longer any need for words. Kill me with everything you’ve got. I will kill you with everything I’ve got.”

Those were his last words.

In the next instant, Soushiki broke into Naguma’s territory. Not just so that he could bait him into attacking. Holding his blade so that it would pierce straight through Naguma’s heart if the latter hesitated to attack—he sprung forward into Naguma’s sphere.

“U… Ugh!”

Naguma’s body quivered, momentarily torn between whether to pull back or brush the attack aside—but in the end, he let out a determined cry of, “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!” and lunged forward with his naginata.

But it wasn’t a slash.

It was a thrust.

He stepped forward on his right foot.

And he aimed the tip of his blade at Soushiki’s heart.

Slashing attacks have a trajectory. With a weapon specialized in power and speed like a naginata, it is very difficult to change that trajectory mid-attack—therefore, the trajectory is easy to read, and therefore, the trajectory is easy to block. The strikes may be difficult to evade, but it is far from impossible to defend against each blow. Still, that quality is not consequential enough to be considered a weak point—after all, the naginata is a weapon capable of crushing that defense altogether.

However, while the weapon may be geared towards slashing strikes, it is just as capable of stabbing maneuvers, as he had shown during his fight with Iori in the apartment. On top of that, Naguma wasn’t just versed in bojutsu and jojutsu; he was skilled in the art of the spear as well. It was the perfect surprise attack to use against an opponent who had grown used to his slashes. The same applies in kendo—but there is no way to defend against a “thrust.” If it comes from a staff or a bare fist, there are ways to “soften” the blow, but to attempt that with a bladed attack is extremely dangerous. The required contact point is far too precise. And the power behind Naguma’s thrust was completely incomparable to a knife…

“Just as I thought, you went for the thrust,” noted Soushiki. “Then all I have to do is dodge it.”

Soushiki evaded the naginata’s blade, spinning around it in a spiral motion—and in an instant, he had drawn close enough to reach Naguma.

“…Huh?”

Naguma let out a dumbfounded voice.

That was to be expected. Soushiki hadn’t evaded a single one of Naguma’s slashes thus far. In terms of speed, Naguma had an overwhelming advantage. Even more so when it was a surprise attack launched head on; perhaps it could be brushed aside, but outright dodging it should have been impossible.

However, Naguma’s understanding was half right and half wrong. Soushiki’s inability to avoid the previous attacks had been no act—but it had been caused by the naginata’s application of centrifugal force. If it was a simple thrust, a maneuver that didn’t even bring the princ.i.p.al of leverage into play—and what’s more, if it wasn’t a surprise attack, but a thrust he had seen coming—then it wasn’t too fast for Soushiki to dodge.

And one more point to add to that.

Unlike the slashing attacks he’d been making until now—a “thrust” leaves the a.s.sailant leaning forward on one leg after the attack. One has to step fully forward on one foot or the other, or there won’t be enough power behind the charge. In that case…

“If I move in towards the side of your body opposite that leg—then your short range defense, those staff arts, will come just a moment delayed.”

Soushiki hadn’t been aiming for a counter at all.

He had been aiming for a feint.

Getting Naguma to unleash a “thrust,” an attack exceedingly difficult to follow up with a combo—that had been Soushiki’s true goal.

“…Kuh!”

Crossing his legs, Naguma Sawarabi attempted to reposition his naginata. However, that took him longer than it took Soushiki Zerozaki to readjust his grip on Mind Render.

“Naguma Sawarabi-kun.”

Soushiki spoke in a horribly cold tone.

“You ‘pa.s.s.’ You are overwhelmingly righteous; you are the very definition of ‘justice.’ Now, holding that righteousness in your heart, die by my hand.”

The moment Naguma Sawarabi turned his body to face the other man—one of the blades of Mind Render pierced deep into his chest.

✦   ✦

“…Yo.”

The setting was a neighborhood game arcade.

Just as he had gotten a game over screen, someone called out to Jion Tsuge from behind.

Jion was in an absolutely awful mood. For the very personal reason that he had witnessed a female cla.s.smate he secretly harbored feelings for (a cute, absentminded girl who wore a red knit cap) leave school with another boy (an irritating guy who fancied himself a sportsman)—he was in an absolutely awful mood.

Preoccupied with his sulking, he had yet to return home even after nightfall, skipping out on his part-time job to idly kill time in an arcade. Given his current frame of mind, a stranger calling out to him was little more than an unwelcome nuisance.

However, when he looked over his shoulder, Jion was met with a shock. He knew that person. Well, no, he didn’t know him personally—but he had heard about him before. What’s more, it was someone he had learned of just the other day.

He wasn’t particularly tall. His long, dyed hair was held back in a ponytail, and the ears peeking out from his hair were adorned with cell phone straps and a triad of piercings, among other things. What drew the eye most of all was the marking on his face, slightly obscured by his stylish sungla.s.ses: a sinister tattoo.

“…’Yo,’ I said. It’s a greeting.”

“Y-Yeah…” Doing his best to hide his inner turmoil, Jion gave a tentative response. “W-What is it? Who are you?”

“Me? I’m… well, let’s see, No Longer Human, I guess?” Along with that incomprehensible answer, the tattooed boy gave a shrug of his shoulders. “I called out to you ’cause—uh, whaddya call it, I need you to tell me the way. Oh, not that I’m asking you to tell me the meaning of life or anything. Kahaha.”

The tattooed boy laughed alone at his own lame joke (like, seriously f.u.c.king lame). He wore a strangely innocent, affable smile. While Jion struggled to come up with a response, the expression on the tattooed boy’s face turned serious, as if he’d shifted gears completely, and he continued, “Truth is, I’m looking for my older brother.

“His stupidity’s pretty distinctive, so if you saw him, he’d probably catch your eye right away. He’s stupidly tall and got stupidly long arms and legs, he keeps his hair stupidly slicked back and wears a stupidly unflattering suit, and he wears stupidly old-fashioned silver-rimmed gla.s.ses. But he keeps stupidly dangerous scissors on ‘im, too.”

“…Ah, uhh—I saw a guy like that… yesterday.” Despite some reservations, Jion decided to answer honestly. “He said he was in the area looking for his little brother…”

“…I see, I see. He was looking for his little brother, huh? That’s a real… masterpiece.”

Kahaha, laughed the tattooed boy.

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Uh, no, not exactly…”

“Gotcha. Then I guess I’ll prowl around the area a little longer. Thanks, man. Here, you can have this.”

The tattooed boy flipped a coin into the air and tossed it over to Jion. At first Jion thought it was an arcade token, but that turned out to be completely off the mark; it was a ten yen coin. Even cheaper than a token.

“…Ten yen?”

“Dumba.s.s, take a closer look. It’s not just any ten yen coin. It’s got ridged edges.”[2]

“…Thanks.”

“It’s nothing, don’t sweat it. Believe it or not—or maybe ‘as you can see’ is more like it—I’m renowned for being cool and generous.”

With a “See ya” and a casual wave of his hand, the tattooed boy turned his back to Jion.

And—it happened in that instant.

The hand Jion had used to catch the coin—his right hand, from the wrist up—was torn off with a loud snap, and fresh red blood began to gush from the wound.

“E-Eeeeeek?!”

“Hm?”

After hearing that scream, the tattooed boy looked back over his shoulder.

“…Ah. Whoops, my bad. Guess I killed ya.”

In that same moment.

All at once, lacerations broke out all over his body. Enough blood poured from Jion’s body to make a person wonder how it had all fit inside to begin with.

Red.

Everything was dyed in red.

His breath, his vision, his pain, his screams…

It was all stained with fresh blood.

It was all so very…

Red.

“Ah. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“It’s ’cause you’re wearing all that jangling metal, y’know? I’m telling you, that s.h.i.t’s dangerous. Watch out from now on, okay? Geez… Anyway, I’m kind of in a hurry, so I gotta go.”

After leaving only those words behind with a genial smile, the tattooed boy left as though nothing had happened. His small retreating figure soon disappeared entirely from Jion’s line of sight. No, that wasn’t quite true. Even his eyes had been torn apart, so his vision had simply been clouded in darkness.

Right there—Jion Tsuge fell down hard enough to scatter the surrounding chairs and arcade cabinets—

“—Ah, ah—ah…”

And with his final few moments of consciousness, he thought to himself.

Oh… I see.

This—what happened just now.

That was what you “die” if you encounter…

That which amounts to “death” just by interacting with it.

The concept of “evil.”

(Naguma Sawarabi—Pa.s.sed)
(Chapter Four—The End)

[1] “Yumiya” quite literally means “bow and arrow.”

[2] A ten yen coin with ridged edges (nicknamed giza-juu in j.a.panese) is a special kind of ten yen coin that was only produced between 1951 and 1958. Basically a j.a.panese collector’s coin.