Battle Royale

Noriko chuckled, and as Shuya was about to, they heard, "No thanks."

Shuya glanced back at Shogo.

The strong, low voice echoed in his head.

Although Shuya wasn't familiar with the voice it obviously came from Shogo, who still kept his eyes closed, though he didn't seem asleep. Shuya all of a sudden realized he'd rarely ever heard Shogo's voice, even though Shogo had transferred to their school over a month ago.

Noriko glanced at Shogo and then looked at Shuya. Shuya shrugged in response and crammed another cookie into his mouth.

He continued chatting with Noriko and Yoshitoki for awhile but...

It was almost ten o'clock when Shuya noticed something strange.

Something weird was happening inside the bus. Yoshitoki, who was on his left, had suddenly fallen asleep and was softly breathing. Shinji Mimura's body was slouching into the aisle. Noriko Nakagawa was also asleep. No one seemed to be talking. Everyone seemed to be asleep. Well yeah, anyone excessively health-conscious might be going to bed now, but still, this was their long awaited trip. Wasn't it a bit early to rail asleep right after leaving? Why doesn't everyone sing or something? Doesn't this bus have one of those atrocious machines Shuya hated—karaoke?

Worst of all, Shuya himself was overcome with drowsiness. He looked around in a daze...then he couldn't even move his head, which felt heavy. He slouched against the seat. His eyes drifted through the narrow space to the rearview mirror at the center of the large windshield fading in the dark....He managed to make out the tiny image of the driver's upper body.

The driver's face was covered with what appeared to be a mask. A hoselike tube extended downward from the mask. Thin straps were wrapped around his head, strapped above and below his ears. What was that? Except for the hose extending downward, it resembled an airline emergency oxygen mask.

So we can't breathe inside this bus? Ladies and gentlemen, this bus will be making an emergency landing due to engine trouble. Like, please fasten your seat belts, wear your oxygen masks, and follow crew member's instructions? Yeah, right.

He heard a scratching sound on the right. Shuya had to struggle to catch a glimpse over there. His body felt so heavy. It was as if he were immersed in transparent jelly.

Shogo Kawada was standing up and struggling to pry open a window. But whether it was jammed shut from rust or a broken lock, the window refused to budge. Shogo slammed his left fist against the glass. He's trying to break the glass. Why all the fuss?

But the glass didn't break. The fist ready to strike the glass all of a sudden went limp and clumsily dropped. His body collapsed into the seat. Shuya thought he heard that low voice he'd only recently familiarized himself with faintly gasp, "Damn."

Almost immediately Shuya fell asleep too.

At approximately the same time, students' families in Shiroiwa were visited by men in black sedans. Alarmed by the late night visit, the parents must have been shocked when the visitors presented them with documents stamped with the government's official peach insignia.

In most cases the parents would silently nod as they thought of their children whom they most likely would never see again, but there were those who frantically protested, in which case they would be knocked out by an electroshock baton, or in the worst case, be pummeled by fresh bullets spat out from a submachine gun, one step ahead of their children in departing from this world.

By then the bus assigned to Shiroiwa Junior High School's Third Year Class B's study trip had long since branched off from the rows of other buses and taken a U-turn towards the city of Takamatsu. After returning to the city it wove its way through various roads before it finally stopped and quietly turned off its engine.

The man in his forties whose hair was peppered gray looked like a typical nice bus driver. Still wearing the oxygen mask that was digging into his slightly sagging chin, he turned towards the Class B students with a faint look of pity. But as soon as another man appeared under the window, his face stiffened. He gave the Republic's idiosyncratic salute. Then he pressed the switch to open the door. Shuya glanced outside as the masked men in battle gear came rushing in.

Under the moonlight, the bluish-white concrete pier gleamed like bone, and beyond the pier the ship that would transport "the players" was swaying sluggishly in the wide open black sea.

42 students remaining

1

For a moment Shuya thought he was in a familiar classroom.