The frivolous one, Tahara, approached the lectern from the side of the hall, placed his hand on the zipper, and pulled the bag open. Something drenched in red liquid…
“AIEEEEE!”
Before it was fully open, one of the girls in the front row screamed and was immediately followed by the others. As the desks and chairs made a clattering sound, other voices asked, “Whaaat?” and a soprano chorus swelled up.
Shuya held his breath.
He could see the body of the teacher in charge of Class B, Masao Hayashida, inside the half open bag. No, he was now their former teacher. Or in fact he was now the former Mr. Hayashida.
His flimsy blue-gray suit was drenched in blood. Only half of his large black glasses that earned him the nickname “Dragonfly” remained. What could you expect, only the left half of his head remained. Underneath the remaining lens the marblelike, crimson eyeball gazed absently at the ceiling. Gray jelly, what must have been his brains, clung to his remaining hair. As if relieved to be released, his left arm, still wearing a watch, poked out of the bag, dangling in front of the lectern. The ones sitting in front might have actually seen the second hand ticking away.
“All right, all right, all right, quiet now. Be quiet. Silence!” Sakamochi clapped his hands, but the girls’ shrieking wouldn’t subside.
Suddenly, the boyish looking soldier named Kondo pulled out his pistol.
Shuya expected a warning shot into the ceiling, but the soldier instead grabbed the bag containing Hayashida with one of his hands, and dragged the bag down from the lectern. He snapped Hayashida’s head up to his face. He looked like a hero in a sci-fi flick fighting a giant bagworm.
The soldier pumped two bullets into Mr. Hayashida’s head. The rest of Hayashida’s head flew apart. The high powered bullets tore apart his brains and bones which formed a bloody mist and splattered all over the faces and chests of the students in the front row.
The echoes from the gunfire subsided. There was hardly any trace of Hayashida’s head. The soldier tossed Hayashida’s body to the side of the lectern. No one was screaming.
4
Most of the standing students timidly returned to their seats. The uncharismatic soldier on the far side dragged the bag containing Hayashida’s body to the corner of the classroom, then joined the other two standing by the lectern. Sakamochi returned to his position behind the lectern.
Once again the room turned silent, but that silence was soon broken by the sound of someone groaning in the back, followed by the damp splash of vomit splattering against the floor. Shuya could smell it.
“Listen up everyone. As you can see, Mr. Hayashida vehemently opposed your class’ assignment to the Program,” Sakamochi said, scratching his hair. “Well, it was all so sudden, we do feel bad about it, but…”
The room grew silent again. Everyone now knew. This was real. It was no mistake, nor was it a prank. They were going to be forced to kill each other.
Shuya desperately tried to think clearly. The unreal situation had put him in a daze. His mind was spinning from the horrible corpse of Hayashida and the role it played in this horror show.
They had to escape. But how?… first he’d meet with Yoshitoki… Shinji and Hiroki… but how was the Program actually conducted? The details were never publicized. Students were given weapons to kill each other. That much was known. But could they talk to each other? How did the government monitor the game?
“I… I…” Shuya’s thoughts were interrupted. He looked up and opened his eyes.
Yoshitoki Kuninobu half rose and gazed at Sakamochi, unsure, it seemed, whether he should continue. He looked as if his words were beyond his control. Shuya’s body tensed up. Don’t provoke them, Yoshitoki!
“Yeeees? What is it? You can ask me anything.”
Sakamochi offered a friendly smile, and like a puppet Yoshitoki continued, “I… don’t have parents. So who did you contact?”
“Ah ha,” Sakamochi nodded. “I remember there was someone from one of the welfare institutions. So you must be Shuya Nanahara? Let’s see, according to the school report you were the one with dangerous ideas. So…”
“I’m Shuya,” Shuya interrupted, raising his voice. Sakamochi glanced at Shuya and then back at Yoshitoki. Still in a daze, Yoshitoki glanced back at Shuya.
“Oh, that’s right. I’m so sorry. There was one more. So you must be Yoshitoki Kuninobu. Well, I contacted the superintendent of the institution where you were both raised. Yes… she was very pretty,” Sakamochi said and grinned. While his smile appeared to be cheerful, there was something disturbing about it.
Shuya’s face tensed up. “What the hell did you do to Ms. Anno?”
“Well, like Mr. Hayashida, she was very uncooperative. They both didn’t accept your assignment, so in order to silence her, well, I had to…” Sakamochi continued calmly, “…rape her. Oh, don’t worry. It’s not like she’s dead.”
Shuya flushed red with anger and leaped up, but before he could say anything, Yoshitoki said, “I’ll kill you!”
Yoshitoki was standing up. His expression had changed, though. He’d always been so friendly to everyone. No matter what happened, it was impossible to imagine him getting angry. His expression now was something he saved for those rare times he was truly enraged. No one else in class might have ever seen him like this, but Shuya had seen him this upset twice. The first time was when they were fourth graders and a car ran over the Charity House’s pet dog, Eddie, right in front of the gate. Frantically, Yoshitoki chased after the fleeing car. The second time was only a year ago, when a man had been using the school’s debt as leverage to come on to Ms. Anno. After she managed to pay back the money, and thereby rejected his advances, the man cursed her out right in front of them, as if he wanted all the Charity House’s residents to hear him. If Shuya hadn’t stopped Yoshitoki, the man would have lost his front teeth, though Yoshitoki would have also been severely injured. Yoshitoki was extremely kind, and even when he was insulted or picked on he usually laughed it off. But when someone he truly loved was hurt, his response was extreme. This was something Shuya admired about Yoshitoki.
“I’ll kill you, you bastard!” Yoshitoki continued, screaming, “I’ll kill you and dump you into a pile of shit!”
“Hmm.” Sakamochi looked amused. “Are you serious, Yoshitoki? You know one must be responsible for the things one says.”
“Give me a break! I’m going to kill you! Don’t you forget it!”
“Stop it, Yoshitoki! Stop it!” Yoshitoki paid no attention to Shuya’s screaming.
Sakamochi spoke in a strange, kind voice, as if to appease Yoshitoki. “Look, Yoshitoki. What you’re doing right now is voicing your opposition to the government.”
“I’ll kill you!” Yoshitoki didn’t stop. “I’ll kill you I’ll kill you I’ll kill you!”
Shuya could no longer contain himself and right when he was about to scream again, Sakamochi shook his head and waved his hand at the three Special Defense Forces soldiers standing by the lectern.
They resembled a chorus group, like the Four Freshmen. The men in fatigues, Tahara, Kondo, and Nomura, all lifted their right hands in a dramatic, emotionally charged pose. But their hands were holding guns. Now the chorus would have been something like, “Baby please, baby please, spend this night with me—”
Shuya saw Yoshitoki’s bulging eyes open even wider.
The three automatic pistols exploded all at once. Just as he was stepping out into the aisle, Yoshitoki’s body shook as if dancing the boogaloo.