Vol 2 Chapter 2 (1/2)

Mission 2

“Saruhiko, Aya saw the ranking of the nationwide mock exam results. What’s up with the 45th place? Did you, like, have a stomach ache?”

It was fall and theiruniforms had gone back to the winter version when Oogai Ayaapproached Fus.h.i.+mi after a long time. Although it felt like summer was still lingering around, since the second semester had started there were mock exams every once a month and they had been forced into the role of examinees.

“Ah, I haven’t seen the results yet. 45th place? Maybe that’s because I didn’t prepare for it at all.”

They were standing in the hall in front of the boys’ restroom. While they led a conversation in a complaining tone, a group of boys in the same year came out of the toilet and stared at them startled. It seemed like they had just now shown each other the list of the mock exam’s result that had been sent to each of their PDAs.

“Uwah, you’re the worst. You just displeased the whole country’s middle school seniors with what you said. Don’t complain if you get stabbed while walking around at night. Clinging to the 45th place even if you didn’t have any motivation makes you irresolute. If you’re, like, going to fall then at least fall below the 100th place. Aya easily made it into Tsubasagahara school’s A level.”

Maybe it was because of the appeal of being an examinee that Aya pushed up her black-green angular gla.s.ses and showed Fus.h.i.+mi her PDA on which the list of the results was displayed. Although it was annoying Aya wouldn’t let him get away so Fus.h.i.+mi gave up and fed up with it, he answered her.

“Aha. Though if you’re going to go to Tsubasagahara’s high school then it would’ve been good to go to their middle school as well.”

And then I would’ve gone through middle school without having to see your face in the same school, is what Fus.h.i.+mi hinted distinctly.

“Hmph. In that middle school are, like, only idiots who stopped studying in the 6th grade. Aya must not a.s.sociate with dunces.”

The one who’s gonna get stabbed while walking around at night is you. It’d be good if you’d get stabbed though so I won’t warn you.

“You’re not together with Misaki-kun today? How rare. Even though you two who don’t have any friends are always together.”

“It’s not like we have to go to the bathroom together.”

He and Yata had fortunately been in the same cla.s.s from the first year to the third, and they had reached their last year with Fus.h.i.+mi fortunately never sitting in the same cla.s.sroom as that annoying second cousin. For Fus.h.i.+mi it was good luck but for Aya who took a liking to Yata it had to be bad luck and she seemed to resent Fus.h.i.+mi for it.

“Ah, Saruhiko!”

Yata who came rus.h.i.+ng energetically from the corner of the corridor spun around and ran towards them vigorously.

“O-oo, Oogai.”

He came to a halt and made sure that Fus.h.i.+mi was between him and Aya who he had noticed belatedly because she was hidden in Fus.h.i.+mi’s shadow.

“Oh? Oogai, have your eyes been bad? What, did you study too much and your eyesight dropped?”

When Yata asked that in a surprised tone Aya stuck out her chest in pride and theatrically pushed up her gla.s.ses.

That’s right, she didn’t wear them before, noticed Fus.h.i.+mi after he heard Yata’s comment. He hadn’t been aware of it because frankly, he didn’t care.

“How rude. Aya can do well without having to try so hard that her eyesight drops from studying.”

“Hm? Your gla.s.ses, don’t they look like Saruhiko’s?”

“Coincidence. More importantly, how, like, has the mock exam been for you, Misaki-kun?”

“R- right. Saruhiko-”

With the topic Aya brought up Yata’s expression turned miserable and he relied on Fus.h.i.+mi.

“My mom somehow knew that the results for the mock exam are released today and she’s eagerly waiting for me to come home. Well, it couldn’t be helped even if I’d hide it so I’ll show her the results, but it’ll be settled more peacefully when my dad’s home so, y'know, I want to kill some time until evening.”

“Sounds like a really bad result, huh. How pitiful, Misaki-kun. Well, the results until place 150 have been made public and there obviously hasn’t even been a hint of your shadow, so I understand already.”

“A- anyway, how was it for you, Oogai?”

“Aya is, like, on place 30. 15 places higher than, like, Saruhiko.”

“Don’t boast with the 30th place.”

When Fus.h.i.+mi interrupted them Aya pushed up her gla.s.ses and glared at him.

“Well, 45th place is quite shameful and you can’t talk about it proudly in a loud voice, can you?”

“30th place or 45th place, aren’t you talking about a perfect 100 point score? Hah, your lineage is really outstanding. You’re on a totally different level then me….”

Lamented Yata and let his shoulders drop.

0 points, putting me in the same category as her based on our lineage. Having gotten displeased, Fus.h.i.+mi left the other two behind and started to walk away. Why did we have to talk in front of the toilet anyway.

“Hey? Saruhiko? You’re free to go back home together today, right?” “Saruhiko! You are really egoistic, aren’t you!” The two ran after Fus.h.i.+mi, clamoring for a reaction.

†

“Hah, I really want some flexible vehicle soon. Using the bus just doesn’t fit my style.”

As they were sitting next to the bus station “Torimochi City 5th Street” and waiting for the bus back home, Yata was diligently playing a game on his PDA and Fus.h.i.+mi was looking through the internet on his PDA whose screen he was apathetically flicking while sipping on a carbonic acid drink.

The boundary line between Torimochi City and s.h.i.+zume City was this bus’ route. This bus stop was the starting point for everytime Fus.h.i.+mi and Yata were moving in s.h.i.+zume City.

“Ah s.h.i.+t, I died. Huh? If I use a coin I can continue? Well if you say it like that then I’ll definitely continue!”

It seemed like Yata was allowing himself to play games today to escape the result of the mock exam. But it was obvious that Yata couldn’t concentrate and, Fus.h.i.+mi could only hear the sound from next to him, but Yata had been quickly losing the whole time and continued the game while cursing. Those coins cost money, don’t they? He’s thoroughly hooked up on the game, thought Fus.h.i.+mi and left it as is.

“Oh-…to-…sh-…s.h.i.+t, how annoyin-… hey, Saruhiko. I heard from Oogai today that your dad has been hospitalized all this time…?”

Mumbled Yata without looking away from the game. When that girl’s around Yata finds out unnecessary information, huh. “Ah, yeah.” Exasperated, Fus.h.i.+mi gave a non-committal response.

That man had been hospitalized since summer and hadn’t gotten better yet. Not having to see that guy in about three months was lately contributing a big part to the stability of Fus.h.i.+mi’s heart.

“Did you go visit him?”

“Why. I haven’t.”

“Even if you ask why…in the end he’s you’re dad, right?” Occupied with the game, Yata gave an vague answer. “……I already know but, say, for you he’s really, a lot, y'know…”

“Say it properly. He’s a weirdo, a creep, human trash.”

“He’s sick right now, isn’t he? Isn’t what you’re saying harsh, despite everything?”

Yata raised his eyes from the game. In exactly that moment came a explosion sound from within the game and Yata tore at his hair. “Ah, d.a.m.n!”

“Misaki. You’re tedious today.”

Fus.h.i.+mi gulped down a mouthful of the carbonic acid drink and spat out those biting words together with a little belch.

“I told you not to call me by my name when there are people around. And the h.e.l.l do you mean with tedious.”

In Yata’s voice was also a stinging tone mixed in.

“I only said normal things.” He hesitated before he continued. “……well, my normal and your normal are different.” He said sullen and curled his back to hold onto his PDA. “Let’s play one more time, suckers!”

Fus.h.i.+mi felt a bit let down by Yata. Haven’t you lately been swallowed up by the atmosphere of the examinations and withered? A Yata who has only 40 or 50 points isn’t interesting at all. You’re good when you throw with all your might and hit 0 points or 100 points.

Fus.h.i.+mi had been going absent-mindedly through the internet but there was no especially interesting information either.

He shoved the PDA into his pocket and when he was about to glumly raise the bottle to his mouth

“s.h.i.+t– I died.”

it was s.n.a.t.c.hed from beside him with a curse. Yata gulped down the content of the bottle and with a “Ah, d.a.m.n, ’s tedious, a lot of things.” he flung the bottle away in a burst of anger into a random direction, but the moment he noticed that he had messed up and he let out a small “Oops”.

In the direction in which the bottle was flying while spinning were unfortunate pa.s.sersby.

Fus.h.i.+mi drew a sigh inwardly, lifted himself and grabbed the back of Yata’s blazer. It was preparation for an immediate escape should they get yelled at.

The bottle was going to hit the pa.s.serby’s back of his head with splendid aim — but right before that happened, the pa.s.serby securely caught the bottle with one hand.

It was a man with sharp eyes and his hair, that might be red through dying or by nature, was standing up looking like a lion’s mane. Near him were five, six followers accompanying him. They were only young hoodlums and their looks made it hard to tell if they were good people. Of all the targets they could have hit, this one was worse than the worst. In s.h.i.+zume City were several groups ordinary people absolutely shouldn’t have anything to do with. This was unlucky even for times where things weren’t going well.

You, huh was how the redhead was glowering at Yata.

“Mikoto, don’t go scarin’ the young'uns.” Chided a tall man at the redhead’s side the latter in a light tone and with a soft Kansai dialect.

“Wh- wh- who is scared…!”

Tried Yata to charge at them while being very obviously scared. Fus.h.i.+mi promptly held Yata back by his shoulder and scowled at the guy with the Kansai dialect. The redhead might be the leader but Fus.h.i.+mi estimated that the guy with the Kansai dialect was the one who grasped the redhead’s reins. He showed a wry smile and shrugged his shoulders.

“Should we go?”, he urged the redhead who smirked, turned around and started to walk away. The remaining underlings followed them in droves.

“Tha- that scared me.”

Let Yata out in a whisper and fall back on his behind as if he had lost all his strength. Fus.h.i.+mi also took a breath and when the tension lessened—.

The redhead who was walking away threw the bottle casually behind his back. Drawing a parabola the bottle came flying and landed right in front of Yata’s feet.

In that moment was the bottle shrouded in violent flames. At the hot air warming his face and the dazzling light Fus.h.i.+mi unintentionally closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened his eyes the bottle had, through the high temperature in that one moment melted and turned into a liquefied state. It was simmering like magma and seething in a red color but it quickly cooled down and hardened. The bottle however had completely lost its shape and had turned into gooey slime.

†

This legend was not as old as the legend of the man flying in the blimp. It seemed like this legend had risen in the gossip of the people sometime in the last year.

Like the legend of the man flying in the blimp, this was an urban legend concerning one man. It told of a monster in s.h.i.+zume City who possesses the power of raging flames. Because of his eyes that harbor a gold color that dazzles like a fierce carnivorous beast’s and his hair that has the color of burning flames he is called “The Red Monster”.

“The Red Monster” leads his followers and strolls around destroying thugs who have been active in s.h.i.+zume City’s underworld for a long time. There were also a lot of people who wanted to belong to the comrades of “The Red Monster”, who had rapidly expanded his influence within the thug groups. Although it was said that often the people who wanted to be part of the “The Red Monster”’s group were only burned by the flames of the monster and died. But the ones who overcome the flames and survive obtain a “power”.

“Power”…? What kind of…? Like the one that had melted the bottle…?

Fus.h.i.+mi stopped his thumb that had glided over his PDA’s screen.

He thought of himself as foolish for searching for a source that confirmed the urban legend as true. They had pulled some kind of trick, that was all. What Fus.h.i.+mi had been drinking was definitely just a normal carbonic acid soda he had bought at a vending machine, but when the redhead had thrown back the bottle Yata had tossed at them, he must have subst.i.tuted it with another one.

“If you’re goin’ to waste yer time here, then why don’t ya come with us, kids?”, was the message the guy with the Kansai dialect who had left together with the redhead, had left them. “We’ll offer ya a place to let off some steam.”

s.h.i.+zume City had indeed near the station shopping buildings lined up that displayed huge electronic billboards and the city evolved into a city for the young generation, but at the same time there was another side of the city, it was also a city for gangs. I you took just one step into a back alley then immoral dealings of criminal groups were rampant and the clas.h.i.+ng of members of delinquent groups had not stopped either.

Within that a gang that had quickly extended its influence — joining them? Had the guy with the Kansai dialect invited us? Middle school students like us? Ridiculous, there’s no way they could have been serious. They just had made fun of us.

“……Fus.h.i.+mi.”

Supposing that they had been serious and invited us middle school kids, there was no way they could use us for anything. The final outcome is us becoming sacrificial p.a.w.n. Or something like a…what was it called again? Like an existence that exists simply to take out an opponent?(1) I wonder if they simply drew in dumb youths with that kind of performance, invited them to join and then walked off? That was the kind of “You’ll quickly expand your power” trick they pulled on them. Weren’t they more like simple street performers rather than a gang ?

“…..Fus.h.i.+mi. …Fus.h.i.+mi!”

A loud voice from right above his head pierced through him as if it was drilling into his skull. Fus.h.i.+mi had heard the whole time that he was called, however he had not felt the need to reply but because it was inevitable he raised his eyes.

Next to his seat stood their english teacher, who had been their cla.s.s teacher since the first year and frowned at Fus.h.i.+mi. Nearly all of his cla.s.smates, who were latching onto their desks and struggling with the exam had their faces turned towards Fus.h.i.+mi some secretly, some broadly, but they all seemed troubled.

“Your PDA is confiscated. Hand it over.” said the teacher and reached out.

The school had just recently realized that there were students who used their PDAs during cla.s.s even though it should be locked. How they had done the cheating in their first year, about which Yata had also wondered about had also been exposed with this and it had turned into a big problem. The countermeasure the school had thought of was to collect the PDAs during main examinations like the mock exams and other tests, but that did not solve the main problem in the least.

The school didn’t yet grasp that the app that removed the lock was «jungle» which was very popular among the students. The reason why «jungle» could do that was not only the astonis.h.i.+ng incompetence of the person who was in charge of the school’s system, but also the fact that «jungle» frequently did minor version updates which continued to alter how they slipped into the PDA’s system—-just like a screen saver that wriggly continued to change its shape on the display.

“Didn’t I say to hand it over?”

When Fus.h.i.+mi ignored the teacher, the latter tried to take the PDA by force.

Showing his own huge incompetence, what exactly is it this teacher plans to teach the students?  This genuine question was all that popped into Fus.h.i.+mi’s mind.

“Don’t touch it.”

He whisked off the teacher’s hand and shoved the PDA into his blazer’s pocket.

“I’m done, sir.” said Fus.h.i.+mi in a monotone voice, left his already finished test sheet and his writing materials on the desk and only took his bag as he stood up from his seat. He pa.s.sed though the back of the slightly noisy cla.s.sroom and headed for the door. This route went right behind Yata’s seat. Yata bent his body on his chair and called out. “Saruhiko.” Fus.h.i.+mi made an fleeting eye contact with Yata and left the cla.s.sroom.

“Fus.h.i.+mi! Don’t be so full of yourself! Even if you’re good in off-campus mock exams, you’re school report is still the worst!”

The teacher’s hysteric voice pierced through the corridor. He sounded like nothing but a sour loser.

“Hey, Yata?! You, too?! You’re different from Fus.h.i.+mi, you know! In your case you’re just a useless guy running away! When people like you with no perseverance go out into society…” “Saruhiko, you going home? Then I’ll also go home”, said Yata as if to push away the teacher’s voice. He was carrying his bag and stumbled while running after Fus.h.i.+mi.

“Are you sure? Even though we’re different from each other, it seems.”

When Fus.h.i.+mi said that coldly, Yata pouted. “…..I’m sure.” He shouldered his bag and started to walk at Fus.h.i.+mi’s side.

Right now Fus.h.i.+mi had been deliberately mean. Because he was irritated, unintentionally.

Their slippers made a tapping sound while they walked next to each other through corridor that had quieted down. Fus.h.i.+mi took out his PDA once more. It displayed the site he had looked at earlier. It was a site that had been linked to from another site where various information on urban legends were collected.

“This site.”

Fus.h.i.+mi showed Yata the screen.

“Hm? Ah, that’s the shady guy with the Kansai dialect from the other day, isn’t it…?”

“Yeah.”

The picture of a man polis.h.i.+ng a c.o.c.ktail gla.s.s behind a stylish, wooden long table that probably was a bar counter was posted on the site. It looked like he was talking to somebody with a smile, but his eyes were not turned towards the photographer. The picture quality was poor and it seemed like it had been taken from a distance and then zoomed in. The photo had probably not been taken with a proper camera, but rather with a PDA’s photo function.

That was not the only photograph.

When you scrolled down the screen then there were other pictures lined up as well. Next to the guy with the Kansai dialect where also several pictures with the faces of the people who had followed the redhead the other day. The backgrounds were various, like the interior of always the same store, or the outdoors. Even though Fus.h.i.+mi quickly scrolled down by letting his thumb glide over the screen, the photographs did not break off and he thought that there had to be around one hundred. The pictures had no captions and the one who had uploaded them as well as the site’s purpose was unclear.

“These were taken in secret, right…?”

“Has to be.”

If the ones whose picture were taken would have witnessed it they probably would have felt at least a bit unwell by it. Although this website wasn’t really hidden and could be easily reached through a web search. Instead Fus.h.i.+mi deduced that the photographer had a.s.sumed he would attract the attention of the people he made pictures of.

Who would, for which purpose…?