Battle Royale

Shuya wanted to scream, you're full of it! But with the Fumiyo-Fujiyoshi-executed-for-whispering incident only moments in the past he could only stay put.

Everybody remained silent, but something had suddenly changed and Shuya knew it.

Everyone was looking around, glancing at the others' pale faces. Whenever anyone's gaze met, their eyes would nervously turn toward Sakamochi. It only happened within a matter of seconds, but their expressions were exactly the same: they were tense and suspicious, wondering who was already ready to take part. Only a few, like Shinji Mimura, remained calm.

Shuya clenched his teeth again. You're falling into their trap! Think about it, we're a group. There's no way we can kill each other!

"All right then, I need to make sure you get my point. You'll find some paper and pencils in your desks."

Everyone timidly took out their paper and pencils. Shuya had no choice but to follow his instructions.

"Now then, I want you to write this down. To memorize something, it's best to write it down. Write this. 'We will kill each other.' Write it three times."

Shuya heard the pencils scribbling against the paper. Noriko too held her pencil, looking morose. While Shuya wrote out this insane motto, he glanced at Yoshitoki's body, which remained lying between the desks. He recalled Yoshitoki's warm smile.

Sakamochi continued, "Okay then. 'If I don't kill, I will be killed.' Write this down three times too."

Shuya also glanced over at Fumiyo Fujiyoshi. Her white fingers poking out of the cuffs of her sailor suit uniform gently formed a bowl. She was the nurse's aide. She was quiet but very caring.

Then he looked up at Sakamochi.

Fucking bastard, I'll stab you in the chest with this pencil!

40 students remaining

6

"Now then, let's see, every two minutes one of you will be leaving the classroom. Once you go through this door and turn right down the hall you'll find the school exit. You are to leave immediately. Anyone loitering in the hall will be immediately shot. Now, who do we start with? According to the Program rules, once we determine the first person, the rest of the order will correspond to your classroom seating assignments. Male, female, male, female, got it? Once we reach the last seat number, we start over from the first number. So..."

At this point, Shuya recalled that Noriko's seating number was 15. It was the same as his. Which meant that he and Noriko could leave almost simultaneously (unless she was chosen first, which meant he would be the last one to leave).

But...could Noriko walk?

Sakamochi took out an envelope from his inner coat pocket.

"The first student is selected by lottery. Hold on a second..."

From his pocket Sakamochi produced a pink-ribboned pair of scissors and ceremoniously cut open the end of the envelope.

That was when Kazuo Kiriyama spoke up. Like Shinji Mimura, he also sounded calm. But his voice sounded cold with a harsh ring. "I was wondering when the game begins."

Everyone looked back to the last row, where Kiriyama was sitting. (Shogo Kawada was the only who didn't turn. He just continued to chew his gum.)

Sakamochi gestured with his hand, "As soon as you leave here. So you all might want to hide out to cook up your own strategies...since it's night right now."

Kazuo Kiriyama didn't respond. Shuya finally confirmed it was midnight, or 1 a.m.—no, it was already near 1:30 a.m.

After cutting open the envelope Sakamochi pulled out from it a white sheet of paper, and he unfolded it. His mouth formed an "O" and he remarked, "What a coincidence! It's student No. 1. Yoshio Akamatsu."

Hearing the announcement, Yoshio Akamatsu, who sat at the front row of the column near the windows (steel plates), looked shaken. He was 180 centimeters tall, weighing 90 kilograms, so he was large, but he couldn't even catch a fly ball, nor could he run a full lap around the track. Yoshio was always bumbling through gym class. Now his lips were pale blue.

"Hurry up, Yoshio Akamatsu," Sakamochi said. Yoshio held the bag he'd packed for the study trip and staggered to his feet. He made his way forward and received his day pack from the camouflaged trio, who now held their rifles at their waists. He stood at the open door and faced the darkness. He looked back at everyone with a terrified face, but then a moment later he vanished beyond the door. Two or three footsteps turned into the pounding sound of his running, which then faded away. It sounded like he fell once but then it sounded like he dashed off again.

In the quiet room several students took a deep, restrained breath.

"Now we will wait two minutes. Then the next one will be Female Student No. 1, Mizuho Inada—"

This routine continued ruthlessly on and on like this.