Battle Royale

It was useless though. Takako's right middle finger and thumb tore through his eyelids and dug into his eye sockets.

"AIEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Kazushi screamed. He fell on his arms, got up on his knees, dropped his nunchucks, and tried to brush off her hands. His body moved frantically as he tried to get rid of her.

Takako held tightly onto Kazushi and refused to let go. She pushed her fingers in further. Her thumb and middle finger dug in up to their second joints. As she dug in, she felt something pop and realized it was his eyeballs. She didn't expect eye sockets to be this small. Takako didn't hesitate to bend her sharp fingers inward. Blood and a semi-transparent slimy liquid came oozing down his cheeks like weird tears.

'ARRRRGH," Kazushi cried as he got up and swung his arms around frantically. He tried to pry her right hand loose from his head with both of his hands and pulled at Takako's hair.

Takako leaped off Kazushi, who ended up with what felt like several strands or even a bundle of hair. Well, she couldn't be worried about that now.

She looked for her ice pick and found it. She snatched it up.

Kazushi moaned and swung his arms at the (literally) unseen enemy. Then he fell back on his rear end. His eyes were open, but his eyes were completely immersed in a sea of red. He resembled an albino monkey now. Takako dragged her right leg and limped toward him. She lifted her wounded right leg and stomped down onto his unprotected crotch. The purple-striped white track sneaker was now red, soaked with Takako's own blood. Underneath its sole she felt a squashing sensation as if she were crushing a rodent. "URGH," Kazushi moaned. He held his crotch and turned on his side, balled up like a fetus. Now Takako began stepping on his throat with her left leg. She put her weight on it. Kazushi reached out, trying to move her foot, hitting it feebly, trying to free himself.

"Hel..." Kazushi uttered. It sounded like a tiny draft of air because his throat had been crushed. "Help..."

Yeah right, Takako thought. She could tell her mouth was breaking into a grin. She realized she wasn't angry anymore. She was actually enjoying this. She was sure about it. So what? She never claimed to be Pope John Paul II or the 14th Dalai Lama.

On her knees now, she thrust the ice pick into his mouth (she saw several cavity fillings). His arms which were struggling to pull at her leg suddenly froze. Takako pushed further. It sunk into his throat without much resistance. Kazushi's entire body, from his chest down to his toes, then went into convulsions as if swimming the submariner. Then it stopped. The albino eyes still remained open, surrounded by a spider's web pattern of gooey blood like running paint.

She felt a sudden surge of pain in her right leg and fell on her back by his head. She was panting now the way she did after doing the 200-meter dash twice for physical tests.

She'd won. But she also felt empty. The actual fight might have lasted less than thirty seconds. She wouldn't have survived a longer fight. In any case...she won. That's what mattered.

Takako held her blood-soaked right leg as she looked down at the corpse of Kazushi, who resembled a traveling magician attempting to spit out an ice pick from his throat. Now ladies and gentlemen, I shall spit out what I just swallowed—

"Takako."

The voice came from behind her. Still seated, Takako turned around. She reached out and pulled out the ice pick from Kazushi's mouth (which resulted in Kazushi's head rising a little and then falling to the ground).

Mitsuko Souma (Female Student No. 11) was looking down at Takako.

Takako quickly looked over at Mitsuko's right hand. Her small hand was holding a large automatic pistol.

She had no idea what her intentions were. But...if like Kazushi Niida she intended to kill her (it was likely, this after all was Mitsuko Souma),Takako had no chance of winning. Mitsuko had a gun.

She had to escape. She had to. Takako pulled at her right leg in pain and tried to get up.

"Are you all right?" Mitsuko asked. Her voice sounded terribly kind. She didn't point the gun at her.

But Takako had to be cautious. She moved back and finally managed to get up by holding onto a tree nearby. Her right leg felt incredibly heavy.

She answered, "Well, I suppose."

Mitsuko looked over Kazushi's corpse. Then she looked at the ice pick in Takako's hands.

"You killed him with that? I have to say I'm impressed. Speaking as one girl to another."

She really sounded like she was impressed. It almost sounded cheerful. Her angelic face was beaming.

"I guess," Takako responded. She felt as if her body were off balance. Perhaps it was from the heavy loss of blood from her right leg.

"Say," Mitsuko said. "You never went out of your way to impress me."

Still unable to tell what Mitsuko's intentions were, Takako stared at her. (The two most beautiful girls in Shiroiwa Junior High were staring at each other. Nice jewelry and a boy's corpse. Oh, you're so pretty.)