He rambled on as he pulled the knife out of my arm. The pain was so intense I couldn't even groan. A feeling of being impaled dominated, robbing me of any expression.
"Unfortunately, this isn't my first time dealing with a murderer. It's a shame you don't remember."
He was saying something, but I could hardly hear him.
All I could think of was escaping this discomfort.
"Anyway, you're so stupid. In my heart, I was like, 'Is he the protagonist with a non-killing belief?' I thought you were like a boy who admired trumpets and was glued to shop windows. Or maybe you're a villain organization that doesn't attack during transformation, or a hero who listens to the villain's unfortunate stories. By the way, did you spend half a year alone on a deserted island and now you can talk to animals? Or did you time-travel to the future with SF power and meet the first person who understands you? Was my story that interesting to you?"
Indeed, he was right. Why did I act on the premise of not killing him immediately and instead enjoyed a friendly chat? My oversight was such a warm reason for failure.
I saw him crouch down next to me. Maybe my thigh wound reopened as he jokingly muttered, "Ouch, ouch." Then, without hesitation, he grabbed my left arm, positioned his knee at the joint, and broke it. A scream escaped from deep within my throat, but he showed no reaction. It was probably the same sentiment I had when I dissected a corpse. The manner one adopts when carrying out a task. Then, he broke both my ankles. By then, the pain had numbed, and what had initially felt like an iron pole in my face now seemed embedded throughout my body.
I failed.
I could only kill someone unconsciously.
I was breaking. Or perhaps, I was already broken.
The fear he spoke of earlier, whether it was a lie or truth, I couldn't tell, but it seeped into me. I wanted to die. I wanted to end this discomfort and confinement.
I tried to convey this through my gaze, but he wasn't looking at me. He was visually examining the blood dripping from the knife, both mine and his, in the darkness.
Indistinguishable, the same colored liquid.
It didn't matter whether our meeting here was intentional or fate, but I could agree on one thing: we were of the same kind.
As you said.
But then,
Everything went as I predicted.
A discussion wasn't enough.
Was it my fault?
Perhaps I got the order wrong.
If we had talked first,
What would have happened?
Could we have become friends?
Did I even want that?
I felt both rejection and a deep sense of acceptance.
"Remember me in your fleeting memories," was the last thing I heard him say in an attempt to sound cool.
Ah, I am being killed by one of my own.
Chapter Four, The Aftermath "Release"
Corpses everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. You're drenched, Ma-chan. Corpses everywhere.
"I failed."
Looking around, that's my only impression.
Even though the scattered bodies of promising runaway boys and girls should be a sign of success.
The only one lying around is the unconscious murderer.
"But to think that a murderer wouldn't kill me. Maybe it's thanks to something beyond friendship." But it's something less than that.
Shining a light into the thickets, the willow trees sway in the wind, but there are no ghosts.
"It seems Kotaro and the others managed to escape safely..."
What's left is for me and this guy to be tied up and that's the end. If the world were the protagonist, it would be an unbeatable happy ending.
I remove the black hood from the murderer. The most assertive student from the school newsletter, Kaneko, who belonged to the same club,
was lying unconscious, drooling foam, snot, and tears. He tried to act tough, but he didn't kill.
"I wonder if this will be considered excessive defense."
It's more of an attack than defense.
"But you didn't bring any souvenirs, did you, Mi-kun?"
Speaking to the unconscious Sugawara Michizane. He must have been quite popular on the trip.
"Right, Mi-kun?"
In the end, he never showed interest in that nickname.
"You've forgotten, haven't you? About me, Mayu, and yourself."
You should at least remember the face of a student from the same grade. I wonder what would have happened if you remembered Mayu...
A murderer seeking his kind.
It's more appropriate to say Mayu is of the same type rather than the same kind.
It's more fitting to describe one person with two traits.
It's not what Sugawara wants.
So, what will happen?
...Will nothing happen?
Did we just pass by each other, and this is the end?
"Man, relationships between men and women are complicated."
The imagination of a high school boy who faked his background to live together probably peaks around here.
But the SF (slightly indecent) story I fed to Kotaro and the others was quite well-made, I must say.
The location of the confinement is a mystery to keep things interesting. If you specify a location, it gives it away. I, the perpetrator, am portrayed as a dual-wielding pervert who loves children. And when I tried to take the two of them outside, we encountered a currently popular murderer. While I was having a shootout with him, the two of them managed to escape in a three-legged race fashion. Yes, perfect. My debut work captured their expressions with great subtlety. While I managed to convince them with my deceitful rhetoric, I'm slightly worried about whether they'll respect the original. It feels hollow to have your work altered even before it's presented to the public.
"Don't worry, wouldn't it be bad if they were just honest and good kids?"
If that were the case, Mayu would be headed for prison. The backup plan has too many holes.
"...Right, I need to make that call."
Reluctantly, though.
As I reached for my cell phone, I remembered the pen-shaped self-defense tool in my hand.
"It came in surprisingly handy."
I'm grateful as I twirl the stun gun in my hand. It's a good thing I fulfilled the conditions on the first day.
"But really, I messed up."
I had planned for Sugawara to kill the two of them, then report him to the police for capture.
The siblings running away, getting involved in heinous acts, or some such misunderstanding would have spread, silencing them, making it perfect to clear both Mayu's and my suspicion. I had planned it that way.
Deceiving them to act as bait with the promise of rescue is one thing. But actually saving them? I must be insane.
The moment Sugawara stood still above Kotaro, I automatically sprang into action.
Picking up a nearby weapon, I charged.
For someone who is rational, cool, and full of ennui (the last one being the only applicable descriptor for me), it was an unthinkable blunder.
"...Maybe I got excited seeing a rival in front of me... Yeah, let's go with that."
I rationalize with a flimsy reason. I'm incredibly weak for tear-jerking, human drama stories. That's a lie, of course. From the moment I let those kids take a bath, the plan was falling apart.
"Because it's what I do."
There's no instance where it went well.
"Alright, reflection time is over."
I discard the stun gun in the same direction as the knife.
Taking out my phone from my hoodie pocket, I select the most recently registered number and press the call button. It rings fifteen times.
"...Hello? Don't sleep, Geronimo, we have work. Yes, work. Confession? I found some snacks rotting in the closet... Yes, I randomly ran into a murderer. Yes, 'randomly'. Without following any divine revelation, just a fated encounter. Please come and arrest him. We're near the community center's shrine. What, now? No way, people sleep at night. Yes, thank you."
I end the call, thinking of how wasteful the call charges are.
Staring at the call duration and charges on the display, I think of the person on the other end.
"I remembered, Nagatsuki-san."
I used to call her 'big sis' the first time we met.
"I wonder if Nagatsuki-san remembered."
Certainly,
Regardless of who asks, she'd respond, "Of course, I haven't forgotten even for a day. Rather, you forgot, didn't you? I've been waiting for you to remember every single day." She'd definitely say that.