Battle Royale

And now the Browning was emptied out, the breechblock held open. He was out of bullets.

They were approaching the mountain. A familiar sight. Strangely enough, there was a farmhouse surrounded by a concrete wall. And a field. A tractor.

Shuya realized this was where they first fought against Kazuo. But now they were on the opposite side.

"Shogo, I'm out of bullets! Are we escaping into the mountain!?"

Shuya could make out Shogo's profile breaking into a slight grin. He replied, "Oh, we still got bullets."

Shuya knit his brows, puzzled.

The truck ran off the entrance road that led to the farmhouse and dashed onto the ridge road. He passed by the side of the tractor. The road ahead became too narrow for the truck.

Shogo didn't seem to care and drove the truck straight ahead. Kazuo came after them, maintaining the same distance behind—only twenty meters. He fired from the driver's seat.

The truck dove into the farm and stopped. The side of the front passenger's seat where Shuya sat now faced Kazuo. Shogo kicked open the door and yelled, "Get out, this way!" He jumped out of the car.

Shuya nudged Noriko, crouched down and followed them. He glanced back. Kazuo's minivan was coming right at them!

There was a blast.

The left front tire of Kazuo's minivan was blown off. It was only ten meters in front of them.

The minivan tottered...and slid along the ridge of the elevated field on the left, and its front went up in the air like a surfboard taking on a large wave. The next moment it rolled over on its roof into the field.

Right before or after the minivan came to a complete halt, a black shadow leaped out. By the time it somersaulted and came to a kneeling position, Shuya could see it was Kazuo. Sparks flew out from his hands with a continuous popping noise. Then there was another blast.

Shuya was still inside the truck as he saw it through the window of the passenger's seat: the sight of Kazuo Kiriyama's body being blown back like an arrow.

Kazuo landed on the field with a thud. He was completely still.

Shuya suddenly recalled the way Kyoichi Motobuchi had died. His sausage-factory trash-bin stomach. Kazuo was too far away to check the condition of his stomach. Still, given how he was pummeled with shotgun pellets, there was no way he could have been alive.

Then Shuya finally emerged from the truck. He saw Shogo holding that shotgun—the one Shuya had tossed into the field when he was running away from Kazuo—as he rose from behind the truck rack.

"Oh, we still got bullets." Shogo had picked up the shotgun Shuya tossed away yesterday, loaded the shotgun cartridges he still had (he must have only been able to load two shots in that span of time), and fired away...and shot down Kazuo.

"Right at the beginning...," Shogo said slowly, "...he missed us with his surprise attack. So he lost. Because then he had to take on all three of us."

He took a deep breath, put down the shotgun which thumped against the refrigerator on the truck rack, and took out a pack of Wild Sevens from his pocket. He took one out and lit it.

"You're bleeding, Shogo," Noriko said, pointing at his left shoulder.

"Yeah." Shogo glanced at his wound and then grinned. "It's nothing." He exhaled.

Bang. Shogo's body bent over. The Wild Seven cigarette fell from his mouth, leaving a trace of smoke in the air. The stubbly face contorted. His eyes gazed down at Shuya's feet.

Shuya saw Kazuo's raised torso on the lower field, holding a gun in his right hand. He was still alive! But his stomach had been pummeled by the shotgun blast!

Shogo's body slowly caved in. Kazuo quickly pointed his gun at Shuya. Shuya realized that he was, along with Shogo, no longer behind the truck. He had no gun in his hand. No, he had no bullets. It was too late for him to reload the shotgun on the truck rack. It was way too late.

The small muzzle of Kazuo's gun a good ten meters away looked like a giant tunnel. A black hole engulfing everything.

Bang. Shuya instantly closed his eyes. He felt a piercing sensation run through his chest and thought, oh, man, I'm dying.

He opened his eyes.

He wasn't dead.

There was Kazuo in the diagonal orange light of the setting sun, a red dot punctured by his nose. The gun fell from his hand. He immediately fell back and crashed onto the ground.

Shuya slowly turned his head to his left. Noriko was standing, holding the Smith & Wesson .38 caliber revolver with both of her hands.

Wow. So that's what it was. While Shogo loaded the shotgun, Noriko had also loaded the revolver Shuya had tossed aside yesterday with her remaining .38 Special bullets.

Noriko's hands were trembling with the gun.

"Huh." Shogo stood up before Shuya could even help him up.

Shuya nervously asked, "Are you all right?"

Shogo didn't respond. He picked up the shotgun, and as he loaded it with the cartridges in his pocket, he walked toward Kazuo. Exactly two meters in front of him, he pointed the gun at Kazuo's head and pulled the trigger. Kazuo's head flinched only once.

Shogo turned on his heels and came back.