Hanzai Japan: Fantastical, Futuristic Stories of Crime From and About Japan (36 page)

Everything the voices have told her has come true, whether it was the car accident that would befall the head teacher of C Class, or what would be on our math test, or the whereabouts of Sakagami’s missing gym clothes.

Anyway, that was how our friendship began.

And everything was going all right until that girl came to our school.

When I told Kaoruko about Takumi and the new girl, my friend stated matter-of-factly, “Takumi is being targeted by aliens.”

“Aliens?” I asked.

“Yes. Aliens.”

You’ve probably heard of the butterfly effect. A butterfly flaps its wings in Beijing, and a hurricane arrives in New York. It’s all based on some theory that I might understand if I were more into science than literature.

According to Kaoruko, galactic science has progressed far enough to be able to see through the chaos and predict the future. For each future, certain starting conditions become crucial, and Takumi plays the role of one such condition. Supposedly, Takumi’s fate plays a decisive role in the outcome of a galactic war. Aware of this fact, aliens have come to secure their so-called “butterfly from the galactic frontier.” And now, Kaoruko told me, I’ve gotten caught up among the events.

I knew she was saying all this to make me feel better. Regardless, I argued with her.

“I can’t accept that,” I said.

From Kaoruko’s expression, I might as well have denied that one plus one equals two. “Why not?” she asked.

“I just can’t.”

“You can believe in reincarnation, but not aliens?”

“That’s not what I mean,” I said. “I can’t accept it, period. End of discussion.”

“I’m telling you, Takumi is under her control.”

“Please, just drop it!”

She gave me a look I’ve never seen before, like she had accidentally touched a searing-hot metal plate.

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her. I don’t hate science fiction. In fact, I wanted to believe her. She would never lie, and she always looks out for me. We’re true friends who share a soul-bond.

But I couldn’t allow myself to deny the truth that Takumi had dumped me. Whether or not that was actually true mattered less. It was a problem of self-respect. Between choosing to believe in my one and only friend, or in the “truth” that my boyfriend had dumped me, I chose the latter. That’s the kind of girl I am.

The following day, I tried to apologize to Kaoruko for dismissing what she had to say.

But she no longer had any words for me. She ignored me, her manner that of a complete stranger. Takumi did it too. He ignored me the same as if I were some part-time worker distributing tissue-pack advertisements outside the train station and he was just trying to walk by. He didn’t respond to my texts, either. Nor, of course, would he answer my calls. I was all alone.

I left school after second period that day.

The following day, I skipped entirely.

Then, wiping my tears, I withdrew my chain saw from its resting place at the back of the storeroom.

It was a birthday present from my departed grandfather.

The next morning, I went to school, bringing with me my grandfather’s present, polished to a shine.

I’d already cut the cord to the receiver of the public phone at the convenience store nearest the school. I also destroyed the nearby cellular broadcast towers. My preparations should buy me some small amount of time before the police would be contacted, whether someone runs far enough to get a signal or finds some house with an open door. Once notified, the police should take another five minutes or so to arrive. By my worst estimate, I’ll have roughly twenty minutes starting from the first casualty. A mere twenty minutes to finish everything I must do.

I pressed the button on the stopwatch I’d prepared. The numbers on the digital display began counting down this most special time for Takumi and me. I tucked the watch, and those precious, precious numbers, into my skirt pocket. Those numbers are for him and me alone. I won’t show them to anyone else.

Cradling my chain saw, I stood before the school gates, my feet planted firmly. I pushed on the hand guard and activated the chain brake. I engaged the choke’s lock-out switch and pulled the starter rope, first slowly, then, when I felt resistance, I gave it more force, and then—

With a great noise, the chain saw’s engine began to breathe. It seemed to like the clear morning air. The machine let out a bestial roar as it greedily burned its fuel. I released the choke, switched the control lever to idle, then squeezed the throttle trigger.

“You there!” a voice shouted. “Kirisaki! What do you think you’re bringing into school? Hey, I’m talking to you—”

It was one of the teachers. He scowled at me, still yelling, but it was all drowned out in my chain saw’s roar. Fourteen summer cicadas could be perched at my neck, and they’d still be quiet compared to my machine’s fury.

Releasing the brake, I swung my chain saw. At the impact, a light jolt traveled up my arm, and the teacher’s head, high above me to begin with, went flying even higher, tracing an arc some three meters up in the sky before thudding against the schoolyard gravel, bouncing a couple times before it came to a stop. A fountain of dark red blood sprayed from his stump of a neck, sent there by a heart unaware that his head was long gone, and the fluid began adding black to the red of his shirt.

Some of the blood cascade landed on me, imparting my school blouse with its deep crimson color and iron smell. I’d hoped Takumi’s blood would be the first to fall on me, but oh well. You start swinging a chain saw around and I suppose this is what happens. By the time I reach him, I’m sure my pure white uniform will be red all the way through.

Cradling my growling chain saw, I ran across the schoolyard and arrived at the front of the building.

Our classroom is the farthest on the third floor. There is one more room behind ours, but everyone’s having fewer children, and that means fewer students, so that room is going unused. At our school, students graduate down a floor each year. Those on their third and final year get the ground floor, but luckily for me, they must have been too stressed out by their college entrance exams to have noticed anything amiss.

The building had a side stairwell for emergencies, but I snuck in last night and jammed the locks on every floor with superglue. If Takumi tried to leave, he’d have no choice but to take the central staircase, which was right where I was headed.

Knowing I’d only have one chance at this, I called Takumi’s mother this morning to check that he’d come to school. He’s a diligent student like that. I bet he’s sitting at his desk now waiting for the chime to announce the beginning of class. He has nowhere to run except right past me.

I’d be seeing him soon.

The thought sent my heart racing with elation.

A boy was standing at his shoe locker, in the process of switching out his outdoor shoes for indoor slippers, when he noticed me and said, “What the hell are you doing?”

He’s one of my classmates, although I don’t remember his name. Even though we’re in the same class, he never said a word to me before now. His eyes locked on to my chain saw.

You never speak to me, I thought, so don’t butt in now.

I swung my chain saw upward. With a roar, its sharp teeth tore through the side of his waist, severing his torso along a diagonal line that reminded me of sashes worn by the anchors in our school relay races. From the force of my swing, the portion with his head and one arm sailed upward and got snagged on the very top of the lockers, where it dangled in a limp, beckoning wave. His lower half twitched before collapsing to rest on his knees. The angled cut revealed his gray lungs, white bones, and pink heart.

When my grandfather taught me how to wield a chain saw, he told me that the fighting style was developed by lumberjacks near the end of the American Civil War in hopes of staving off the Union advance. As simple men lacking rifles or cannons, they utilized the familiar tools of their profession to wage guerrilla warfare within the thick woodlands. These rough woodsmen had created their own martial art, and much like the slaves in Brazil and their capoeira, the men took great pride in it. Not that I know a thing about capoeira.

I do know for a fact that the lumberjack trade had boomed in Texas, until the twentieth century and its oil fields came along. I’m not so sure about chain saws being invented in time for the Civil War, but on the other hand, my Texan grandfather could masterfully wield three chain saws simultaneously, so who knows. Maybe chain saws were around back then, if only in America.

Without changing my shoes, I stepped up into the school proper and began climbing the central stairs. At the first landing, I opened the window, bringing into the school fresh air free of the scent of blood.

I didn’t see anyone in the yard below.

My chain saw’s battle song resounded through the hallways, echoing off the walls. Butchered corpses lay in the front gate and entryway. Despite all that, had none of the students on the first floor noticed? Or had they decided that someone waving a chain saw through the school wasn’t any of their concern? The indifference of the latter seemed extreme, even for high schoolers. Well, it was working out fine for me.

I don’t want to place the blame for this massacre on anyone. Neither Takumi nor Kaoruko are at fault. This decision was my own. I’m not sure I carry any blood or tears within me. I’m a cold-blooded girl; of course Takumi would dump me, and of course Kaoruko would ignore me. The only blood I have is the stuff dripping from the stainless steel teeth of my chain saw.

I had believed Kaoruko’s talk of reincarnation not because I needed a friend, but rather because she was my first friend.

But that’s all over now.

I’m without my love and without my best friend.

The class bell rang.

Carrying my bloodied chain saw, I climbed another step.

At the second floor, a male and female pair blocked my path.

The girl was the disciplinary committee student I encountered in the entryway three days ago. The boy looked fit, like he did judo or something. If we were to take a measure, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had three times the muscle mass I do. The committee girl brought him along like her guard dog.

Angling her armband so I could see it, she announced, “You there. Wearing your shoes inside the main building is against school rules.”

I had some trouble hearing her over my chain saw’s echoing rumble. Its steel teeth were still dripping blood.

Having stepped in the pool made by my now-former classmate, the sticky mess was clinging to the bottom of my shoes, leaving black-red graffiti behind every footstep. So, yes, I was wearing outside shoes, and that was against school rules. But didn’t she have more important things to point out? I guess the student handbook doesn’t explicitly forbid bringing a chain saw into the school, nor is there any rule against decapitating fellow students.

What was this, some sort of sick joke?

Thinking objectively, my entire existence this moment was some kind of sick joke, but somehow her reaction was on a whole other level of messed up. On a basic level, I’m actually impressed. I’d thought that only in a manga would a morals committee student care enough about her duty to confront a person swinging about a chain saw.

Up until now, I’d been so obsessed with Takumi that I’d never realized I attend what’s kind of an interesting school. Too bad I only noticed it once I’d already begun wreaking havoc with a chain saw. Maybe only in this most extreme of circumstances is it possible to notice the beauty in the world around me.

But anyway. I had little time. Anyone standing in my way must be removed.

The committee girl said something else, but her voice was drowned out by engine noise, and I couldn’t make out her words. Her guard dog, ferocious, stepped toward me. I swung my chain saw.

The blades sank into his shoulder, the saw grinding and jolting as it cleaved through his collarbone, spine, and ribs, splitting him into two pieces. He was sturdily built, and big-boned, and slicing through him was fairly tough. Maybe he drank his milk every day. His lower half, dead and disconnected, relentlessly continued its charge, knocking me flat at the very top of the stairs. I choked on the 98.6 degree heat emanating from the cross-section cut of his corpse.

The girl ran toward me. With a flash of my chain saw, I severed her legs. Everything from her knees down remained on the second floor, while the rest of her, blood spraying, tumbled past me, her skull jolting and bouncing down the steps.

I stood up.

Now I was covered in even more blood. I took out a handkerchief to wipe the specks from my glasses, but the gore had seeped into my pocket and stained the handkerchief bright red, so I used the hem of my skirt instead.

I wanted as few people as possible to meet their ends as a future source of rust on my chain saw. If they valued their lives, I hoped they’d remain in their classrooms until I reached Takumi. For Takumi and me to die in this sudden, unhappy ending was already two lives too many.

But my wish went unfulfilled. While my attention was elsewhere, easily one class’s worth of students had filled the stairway above. Everyone from the second floor up had no other route of escape. The students stared at me in silence. Or they could have been talking among themselves, with nothing reaching my ears. My chain saw’s battle cry swallowed all other sound. Slowly I scanned my surroundings.

If they wanted to go around me—keeping their distance, of course—I’d make no move against them. My goal was to kill Takumi; everyone else was nothing more than obtrusive white noise. The actions taken by the morals committee girl left her lower legs on the second floor and the rest of her down the stairs. These students could take that result as a warning or as a declaration of war. It was all up to them. Keeping a watchful measure of the distance between the group and myself, I advanced.

“Do it now!” a boy shouted. “Crush her!”

Had they lost all reason, feeling that there’s no escape? Packed in that swarm, did they feel safe from my spinning blades? Did they think me a short, bespectacled girl who would be easily defeated? Fine then. I’d play their game. I raised my chain saw.