Battle Royale

"Don't be ridiculous," Shogo laughed and like the two soldiers sprawled in the corner of the room, he lay down on his side.

"Please." Shuya knelt down and touched Shogo's shoulder. "Please get up."

"Shogo." Noriko was crying.

"Noriko!" Shuya scolded her. Noriko looked over at Shuya. "Don't cry! Shogo can't die!"

"Shuya. Don't get angry with her over nothing," Shogo kindly admonished him, "You have to be kind to your girl." Then he added. "Besides, sorry, but I'm going."

Shogo's face became increasingly pale. In contrast, the scar above his left brow was dark red now like a centipede.

"Shogo..."

"I-I-I'm still not sure...," Shogo said. His head began to tremble. But he continued moving his lips, "...whether I'm going to join you. B-b-but I-I w-want to th-thank you guys."

Shuya shook his head over and over. He stared at Shogo. He couldn't say anything.

Shogo raised his trembling right hand. "G-g-goodbye."

Shuya held his hand.

"N-N-Noriko, you too."

Holding back her tears, Noriko held Shogo's hand.

Shuya now realized Shogo was dying. No, he had already known, but now he was accepting it. What else could he do? He tried to come up with something to say. He knew what it was.

"Shogo."

Shogo's eyes drowsily shifted over from Noriko to Shuya.

"I'll tear this fucking country down for you! I'll tear it down, goddamn it!"

Shogo grinned. His hand fell from Noriko's hand onto his chest. Noriko followed his hand, and squeezed it.

Shogo closed his eyes. He seemed to be grinning again. Then he said, "I-I-I-I-I told you, Sh-Sh-Sh-Shuya. Y-y-you d-don't h-have to d-d-do th-th-that. F-f-forget about i-i-it. You t-t-t-two sh-sh-should just try t-to 1-1-live, p-p-please. J-j-just like w-w-we d-did here, t-t-trust each other. A-a-all right?"

Shogo said this much and took a long, deep breath. His eyes remained shut.

"That's what I want," he declared.

That was it. Shogo stopped breathing. The dim yellow light falling from the ceiling of the pilothouse shined against his pale face. He seemed at ease.

"Shogo!" Shuya yelled. He still had more to say. "You'll see Keiko! You'll be happy with her! You're—"

It was too late. Shogo couldn't hear anything anymore. But his face just looked so damned peaceful.

"Damn it." Shuya's lips trembled along with his words. "Damn it."

Holding Shogo's hands, Noriko was crying.

Shuya also put his hand on Shogo's thick hand. A thought occurred to him. He searched through Shogo's pockets and found it...the red bird call. He pressed it into Shogo's right hand and closed his hands over it so he could hold it. Shuya then finally burst into tears.

Epilogue Umeda, Osaka

In the bustling crowd at the Umeda-Osaka train terminal, each pedestrian busy for whatever reason, Shuya Nanahara (Male Student No. 15, Third Year Class B, Shiroiwa Junior High School) heard the announcement, "We have this report on the recent murder of a Program Instructor in Kagawa Prefecture," as he was stepping off one of the pair of escalators that ran along the stations wide stairways. He gently squeezed Noriko Nakagawa's (Female Student No. 15, same school) shoulder with his right hand and stopped.

On the giant TV screen as high as the escalator, there was a large, closeup image of a reporter in his fifties, his hair parted in a 7:3 ratio.

Shuya and Noriko walked up to the screen together. It was Monday, past 6 p.m., so there were students and salarymen in business suits waiting around the area. Shuya and Noriko were no longer wearing their school uniforms. Shuya wore a pair of jeans, a print shirt, and a denim jacket. Noriko also wore jeans along with a dark-green polo shirt and a light-gray windbreaker on top. (They did however keep their sneakers, washing them after the game before they wore them again.) Shuya's neck was bandaged, but it was hidden by the jacket collar, and Noriko's left cheek was covered with a large bandage, but it was obscured by her black leather baseball cap that she kept pulled low over her eyes. She still dragged her right leg, but it wasn't so conspicuous anymore. Since his left arm was still paralyzed, Shuya shifted the bag strap against his left shoulder with his right hand.

Shogo's notes indicated the name of a doctor and his address in the city of Kobe. A small clinic in the back streets of the city, probably similar to the one Shogo's father ran. The doctor who still seemed to be in his twenties warmly welcomed them and treated their wounds.