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 fun.
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?