Chapter 5: Hawatari Sawarabi (1)
The Family’s general consensus regarding Soushiki’s little brother—Hitoshiki Zerozaki—was that he was strangely elusive and difficult to understand—and while Soushiki made a show of protesting that a.s.sessment on the surface, in truth, he found it to be a rather apt description. All the members of the Zerozaki Family, a gathering of eccentrics, were more or less viewed that way by outsiders—but all the same, the fact that his little brother was seen that way even by insiders certainly made him a bit unusual. There were various ways it could be expressed—but it was like he would be facing east one moment and west the next, and if you hurriedly followed his gaze to see what he was looking at, he would already be staring off to the south. By the time you realized what was happening, he would be standing there watching your gaze dart every which way with a grin on his face. That was the brand of “impenetrability” Hitoshiki Zerozaki possessed. Take even the greatest maverick and eccentric among the Zerozaki Family: “Suicidal Tendencies,” a.k.a. “Mind Render”; take even the most infamous psycho killer among the Family at that point in time: “Cutting Remark,” a.k.a. “Peril Point”; take even the one who was known for having killed the most people in the entire history of the clan, and for doing it using exceptionally violent and merciless methods, even by the Zerozaki Family’s standards: “Praise of Folly,” a.k.a. “Seamless Bias”; take even the one and only member of the family who chose his victims based on certain requirements and hated indiscriminate murder with a pa.s.sion: “Girlish Predilections,” a.k.a. “Bolt Keep”—dispositions aside, in terms of personality, they would all pale in the face of Hitoshiki Zerozaki. In the entirety of the rather brief history of the clan, the only ones capable of rivaling Hitoshiki had been his own “parents.” And seeing as those two were already dead, that was now a matter of the past.
The Zerozaki among Zerozaki.
That was why Hitoshiki was referred to as such within the Family.
He was no longer young enough to be considered a child.
Still, Soushiki didn’t feel comfortable leaving his little brother to his own devices.
He always tried to keep him close by—or else he would get anxious.
If anyone found out that someone like that…
That something like that existed within the Zerozaki…
There were bound to be some who wouldn’t keep quiet about it.
This particular incident appeared to be something close to that.
Indeed…
Hitoshiki Zerozaki.
The Zerozaki among Zerozaki.
His little brother—being the one and only purebred Zerozaki the world had ever known—inevitably held the key to the destruction of the Zerozaki Family.
As such—Hitoshiki Zerozaki.
His existence was considered something of a taboo even within the Family.
Something that must never be mentioned, almost like a forbidden word.
That said, given his easygoing att.i.tude, it was hard to tell whether the boy himself was aware of that, and it was never clear exactly what was going on in his head. Even after Soushiki had invited Hitoshiki to join their clan—the Zerozaki Family—he had remained enrolled in middle school, and apparently he had held every intention of going on to high school as well. If his lifestyle itself hadn’t been run into the ground, he probably would have done exactly that. After he graduated—from the time he turned fifteen until the present day, Hitoshiki Zerozaki’s entire personal history could be expressed as one long, ongoing game of hide-and-seek with his older brother Soushiki Zerozaki.
Hide-and-go-seek.
There were only two things that could be said for sure about the strangely elusive and impenetrable Hitoshiki Zerozaki—and one of them was that he was filled with an overwhelming, incurable wanderl.u.s.t.
No one knew the reason for his vagrancy.
“It’s not that I want to go somewhere in particular…
“I hate walking.
“There isn’t any place I want to go.”
When asked about it, that was the offhand answer he would give.
“It’s just, you know…
“There’s someone out there I really want to meet.
“I’ve got no idea who they are…
“But I have to meet ’em.
“Once I do…
“Something will work out somehow.”
When Soushiki Zerozaki heard that—the moment he heard that.
However many years ago.
He abandoned his attempts to understand his little brother—Hitoshiki Zerozaki.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand.
It was that he gave up on even trying to understand.
An answer that sounded like it had been made up on the spot.
A non-answer of an answer.
In the end—those were his little brother’s honest feelings.
Even his honest feelings were a lie.
To this boy, even the truth was a lie.
There was no truth to this boy.
In that case, Soushiki would never understand him.
He could never understand him.
And—he didn’t want to understand him.
And so, Soushiki abandoned his attempts to understand…
And he decided to simply accept him instead.
But truth be told, it wasn’t quite as clear how Hitoshiki felt towards his older brother. No matter where he wandered off to, as soon as he was found, he would always abide by Soushiki’s instructions without making any particular fuss about it. Soushiki had known Hitoshiki from the time he was genuinely a child—but as far as he could tell, the boy had never gone through a rebellious period. And yet, it was like he was complying just for the sake of complying—that was how it felt. Soushiki couldn’t tell why his little brother chose to obey him.
He couldn’t tell what he was feeling.
He didn’t understand.
In the end, he just didn’t understand.
However, because of the second thing that could be said for sure about Hitoshiki Zerozaki—regardless of what he thought of Soushiki himself, he did hold an extraordinary amount of interest in his older brother’s longtime weapon, “Mind Render.”
Hitoshiki Zerozaki loved sharp objects.
Sharp objects.
It didn’t have to be a blade.
It didn’t even have to be a weapon.
Whether it was a shard of gla.s.s, a razor-sharp string, or a sc.r.a.p of paper—if it was sharp and pointed, Hitoshiki Zerozaki adored it.
It could even be called a fixation.
From the time he was an infant, Hitoshiki had gone out of his way to collect shiny objects, the kind you could easily cut yourself on if you weren’t careful. It goes without saying that every last person belonging to the Zerozaki Family was a “psycho killer.” Each and every one of them bore that t.i.tle in all its entirety, holding it close to their chests. In that one respect—counting nearly every Zerozaki, from Mind Render to Bolt Keep—there was no disparity between members of the family. Although each “psycho killer” in the Family, Soushiki included, possessed their own unique outlook on life, their own unique philosophy, and their own unique boundaries—that was the one and only point that differentiated them from the rest of the Killing Names.
However.
Hitoshiki Zerozaki was different.
That was not the case for Hitoshiki Zerozaki.
Hitoshiki Zerozaki had collected “sharp objects”—still did collect them—independent of their value as tools for murder. In that sense, rather, you would be hard-pressed to find a psycho killer more indifferent to killing than Hitoshiki.
Yes—in short, it came down to a matter of meaning.
If handed an X-Acto knife, most members of the Family would use that to cut “someone’s” carotid artery. Or perhaps to stab “someone” in the eyes. Or perhaps to strike at “someone’s” wrists. If it were Bolt Keep, he might aim for the person’s internal organs, and if it were Soushiki Zerozaki, he might swap the knife out for his Mind Render.
However.
Hitoshiki Zerozaki was different.
Hitoshiki would use it to sharpen a pencil.
He would carefully, meticulously sharpen a pencil.
Next, he would stab someone with that pencil.
As if to test how sharp it was.
And then, he might mutter, “Still needs more work.”
He sought out sharp beings.
He created sharp items.
Almost as if it were in his very nature.
Almost as if it were his vice.
He collected sharp objects.
“Hey, Bro—,” Hitoshiki would often say.
Over and over again.
More times than Soushiki cared to hear it.
“You got any plans to give that up?
“Give it to me.
“I want it.”
It was no different from a child pestering an adult for a toy he wanted. Each time, Soushiki would reply, “I can’t give you this,” with a wry smile.
“It happens to be very precious to me. I’m not a playboy like you. I’m faithful to both my women and my weapons.”
“Hmm…”
His little brother smiled.
Well, no, his little brother was always smiling.
He’d never seen his brother without a smile on his face.
“…Then how about this? Once you die, I’ll take those stupid scissors off your hands.”
“As a memento, you mean?”
“As garbage collection.”
“Hmm—well, you’re free to do as you like. It wouldn’t do to drag my beloved weapon all the way with me to h.e.l.l…”
“This, coming from ‘h.e.l.l’ himself?” Hitoshiki responded. “…Kahaha. Then—you know, in that case. I could always just kill you and take those scissors by force.”
“Well… I suppose you could.”
“Well, aren’t you confident. You think I’d never stand a chance at killing you or something? You think you could kill me anytime you want?”
“Who knows.”
“Tch…”
His little brother clicked his tongue in displeasure.
Though, of course, he was still smiling.
It was a smile that could be described as “pure,” even.
“I have no intention of fighting you to the death, in any case. The question itself is moot.”
“Then, hypothetically speaking—like, if we’re just imagining ‘what if’ scenarios—if we had ourselves a serious death match, which one of us would be left standing in the end?”
In response to his little brother’s question—the older brother answered.
“If it’s a question of who would survive, it would almost certainly be me—but if it’s a question of who could manage to murder their opponent, it would almost certainly be you.”
“Yeah? And why is that?”
“A little brother who would kill his older brother could very well exist in this world, but there’s no such thing as an older brother who would kill his younger brother.”
“Now that’s not true. It’s a pretty big world we live in, you know? Bet you could find an older brother who’d kill his little brother if you really tried.”
“An older brother who would kill his little brother. A person like that can’t really be called an older brother. Such a person is no longer a human, no longer even a demon. He’s just a beast—or perhaps a monster.”
“Hah—a beast or a monster, huh?”
That’s a real—masterpiece.
Yes…
That was what he had said back then.
After saying those words, his smile had grown all the wider.
Soushiki remembered that much.
He remembered it vividly—however.
Considering his current situation, considering his current condition—even if it were just a hypothetical scenario, one with no firm basis in reality—if he were asked right then whether he would be able to survive a fight against his little brother, he wasn’t sure he would be able to nod his head.
“…”
All alone, on the open rooftop of an apartment building—Soushiki Zerozaki lied spread-eagled, twirling a giant pair of scissors around his fingertips. One of the cuffs of his suit jacket had been stained with fresh, red blood. That blood belonged to the man he had been dueling to the death just minutes ago—Naguma Sawarabi the naginata user.
Naguma was no longer anywhere to be found.
“…To let two targets escape my custody in one day… I suppose the ‘Twentieth h.e.l.l’ is a thing of the past,” Soushiki muttered, with a touch of self-deprecation.
But still—it was a shocking state of affairs. For Soushiki, the entire situation still felt hard to believe, enough so that he needed a bit more time to understand what had transpired.
Soushiki had unquestionably, undoubtedly thrust one of the blades of his scissors into Naguma’s chest—and if it had penetrated even a centimeter deeper, it would have been a fatal wound with no hope for recovery—
But who would have guessed a comeback was possible at that stage.
Who would have guessed a comeback was possible from that point—Soushiki hadn’t even considered the possibility.
“Or, rather… Most people would give up after being stabbed in the chest. To nonetheless keep hold of his will to fight and attempt an escape after that—Naguma-kun really is something else.”
But of course—it wasn’t only that.
Soushiki Zerozaki wasn’t so forgiving an “enemy” that one could survive against him purely on ideals like “the will to live” or “the determination to fight.” The biggest reason that Naguma had been able to escape from Soushiki—
That was because he had stepped forward on his right foot during his thrust.
Naturally, to avoid that, Soushiki had been forced to move in to the left of Naguma, from his point of view—and thus carry out his attack with Mind Render using his right hand.
His right hand.
His hand on the right.
It was the same hand that Iori had wounded earlier that evening. It was a minor, trivial injury—but that minor, trivial difference had dragged Soushiki down and spared Naguma’s life. As a result, Naguma had avoided a fatal injury, jumped off the roof of the building, and succeeded in escaping from Soushiki Zerozaki.
“Heheheh—I told him he was free to run away, but I had no intention of actually letting him go…”
Having finished his reflections—Soushiki leapt off the ground and back onto his feet in one smooth motion, his wireframe model of a body springing up like a clockwork toy. He flicked the blood off his scissors, then stowed the weapon away inside his suit.
“Now this is a pickle. I’m no good at dealing with that type. No good at all. The heroic ‘berseker’ who, regardless of the inferiority of his skill, regardless of his bottom of the barrel talent, can always survive by the skin of his teeth—as a concept, it’s close to the notion of the ‘living dead.’ I, Soushiki Zerozaki, am but a psycho killer. How am I to be expected to kill a corpse?”
That brainless little brother of his would probably describe the situation as a “masterpiece,” but unfortunately, Soushiki was not one to derive enjoyment from adversity. Now that Soushiki had more or less tipped his hand, Naguma Sawarabi—and that “brother” of his, as well—had solidified themselves as “enemies” beyond redemption, ones that warranted an overwhelming amount of caution.
“His ‘little sister’ was murdered—I believe that’s what he said. If I have the time, it might behoove me to look into the facts of the matter. …Oh, but Iori-chan comes first. If I leave her like that, it won’t be long before her spine breaks with a nice, clean crunch.”
After saying that like an afterthought, Soushiki turned on his heel. He opened the door, went back inside the apartment building, and walked down the stairs. Although he whistled a carefree tune all the while, that was little more than bravado, and his mind was abuzz with thoughts on what steps to take next.
At any rate.
Now that they had made contact, now that they had confronted one another, Naguma Sawarabi was an “enemy.” Not Soushiki’s own personal “enemy,” but an “enemy” of the entire Zerozaki Family—no matter the cost, once the time was ripe, he had to be eliminated. The reasons behind his actions were irrelevant.
And.
At the same time, there was the issue of Iori—and as far as issues went, that one was the bigger dilemma. Including his little brother, this was his second time confronting a “Zerozaki” outside the “Zerozaki” group—but in her case, considering that she had yet to kill a single person, while it may have applied in theory, in practice, she couldn’t really be labeled a “psycho killer.” His little brother’s case had been unique in its own way, too—it had been so unique that “unique” was the only way to describe it, but at the very least, he had already been a “murderer” by the time he met Soushiki.
But then—there was Iori’s case.
“Well, now that she’s come into contact with me—and with another Zerozaki, I’m sure the resonance will only ‘stimulate’ her ‘disposition.’ It’s like what they say about one rotten apple spoiling the bunch. I suppose the situation is too dicey for me to be using words like ‘hope’ and ‘possibility."”
And on top of that—there was Soushiki’s original goal.
As things stood, his search for his little brother had been put entirely on hold.
That made for a total of three tasks to be addressed.
Given that Soushiki Zerozaki could only be in one place at one time, he would have to decide which matter took priority, which was to be left for later, and which was to be put on the backburner…
“…It might be easiest to do things the logical way and call someone to help, instead of trying to do everything myself—but as the eldest son of the family, I’d rather not disgrace myself by admitting that I let two different people escape my grasp.”
While muttering that to himself, he opened the front door to the apartment where he had left Iori. There in the living room, right near the entrance, Iori was lying tied up and unconscious, having fainted in agony—or at least, she should have been.
There was no one in the living room.
Not a single person.
“…Hm?”
Tilting his head to the side, Soushiki stepped into the living room without taking off his shoes. Naguma had cleaned up the area earlier, so there was nowhere to hide. Just in case, he checked every nook and cranny of the room, but just as it seemed, there was not a single person, not a single presence to be found—however, on one of the white walls of the s.p.a.cious, deserted room—
—The word “Sawarabi” had been carved.
The letters looked rough and uneven, as if they had been sc.r.a.pped out of the wall with some kind of blade.
That was enough to tell him everything.
“The oldest brother was a swordsman—wasn’t he? My, my.”
Without showing any obvious signs of panic, Soushiki shrugged his shoulders.
“So is that what this is? Iori-chan has been kidnapped—and so Soushiki-san must rush to her rescue. It’s that sort of scenario?”
How complicated.
There was no time to rest.
That naginata user—no wonder he had fled so quickly. If he stood a chance at winning, he ought to have settled things then and there, but clearly there had been no real need for him to rush the duel to a conclusion.
“In that sense, it was actually a stroke of genius to tie up Iori-chan’s arms and legs. So long as she doesn’t try to put up a fight, she should get out of this without too many injuries.”
He had no way of knowing whether she was unharmed or not—but all he could do was have faith in the oldest Sawarabi brother, whoever he was. Still, seeing as their target was not Soushiki himself, but the Zerozaki Family as a whole—that meant Iori was included as one of those targets. She was currently straddling the line between human and “psycho killer”—but they were unlikely to take that into consideration. In that case, to a.s.sume that she would make it out with all her limbs intact was, perhaps, a hasty conclusion.
“Well, at worst, she might be tortured a bit and lose an arm or a leg in the process. A hostage is meaningless if they aren’t left alive.” As he muttered those troubling possibilities in a perfectly calm manner, Soushiki left the living room. “But still—if they’re going this far to declare a full-blown war on the Zerozaki Family, they certainly are a superlative example of ‘justice.’ Come h.e.l.l or high water, I really must do away with them myself, by my own hand and by my own blade.”
Then, he went out into the hallway, and in a fluid motion, without any particular enthusiasm or hesitation, pulled open the door to the neighboring apartment. The moment he did, a suffocating, revolting stench came wafting from the room.
It was the stench of flesh—and blood.
There were four corpses inside the apartment.
No possibility or hope about them—
Just four corpses.
Just four lumps of meat.
“Iori-chan’s mother—her father—her older sister—and I suppose this one is her little brother? Or maybe her older brother? It’s hard to tell.”
Soushiki carefully examined each of the corpses.
“They were all killed with one strike from a naginata, hm…? Well, I saw those techniques of his. An amateur would go down in an instant.”
After finishing his inspection, Soushiki once again put some distance between himself and the corpses—and then, as if to offer a silent prayer, he brought both of his hands together as he gazed in their direction. He maintained that silence for about a minute. Finally, wearing an expression so humble it looked out of place on his face, Soushiki opened his mouth to speak.
“Perhaps it was because she was surrounded by a family like you—that she was able to live such a wholesome life. I’m sure that to her—that as she moves forward, those seventeen years she spent with you will be valued as an irreplaceable, one-of-a-kind… brilliant and precious treasure. Thank you for ‘protecting’ her all this time.”
Soushiki turned his back to the four.
Iori Mutou—the girl in the red knit cap.
That day, her everyday life had reached a turning point.
That day, her everyday life had been turned on its head.
That day, her everyday life had collapsed in on itself.
That day, her everyday life had been laid to ruin.
That was no longer any one person’s responsibility.
It wasn’t the fault of the Sawarabi brothers; it wasn’t the fault of the one who had purportedly started it all, Soushiki’s little brother; of course, it wasn’t the fault of Soushiki Zerozaki—and.
Most likely, it wasn’t even the fault of the girl herself.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault—however.
The fact that she—that Iori Mutou had been able to live her everyday life as Iori Mutou for so long—was undeniably thanks to these four people. That alone went without a doubt. There was no room to doubt it.
“Take pride in that fact; I have the utmost respect for you. Without a doubt, you all ‘pa.s.s’ with flying colors—and so, from here on, please leave everything to me. I will be sure to protect your beloved ‘family’—my little sister.”
After returning to Iori’s living room, Soushiki picked up the telephone receiver hanging on the wall. Deftly dialing a 24-digit telephone number, he connected with the person he wanted to reach.
“—Yes, things have turned into a bit of a ha.s.sle… or a nuisance, really. I’ll be waging an all-out war in this town soon; I’d like you to handle the ‘cleanup’ afterwards. That includes yesterday’s incident on the train. It’s a fight to the death between fellow brutes, so there’s no reason for you to be concerned. No matter which of us dies, it just amounts to one less of our kind. Very convenient for your side, isn’t it? If you’re lucky, we might take each other down, and then it’s two less. All you have to do is keep quiet and manipulate the flow of information. Well then, I’m counting on you, Ujigami-san.”
Once he had finished the call and hung up the phone, Soushiki took Mind Render out of his suit. The action signified that he was ready for battle—a stance that would not be relaxed until he had rescued Iori in one piece and executed the Sawarabi brothers.
Once the Zerozaki has begun, it doesn’t end until the enemy is eliminated.
✦ ✦
“…Uuuuuuuugh…”
Iori Mutou groaned.
“…Bleeeh…”
There was no point to it; she simply had nothing better to do than groan. Of course, she could have managed a scream or a yell if she really felt like it, but that was bound to tire her out, so she didn’t bother. It always pays to be energy-efficient. Everyone has limited stamina, so it’s best to use it wisely.
By the time she had come to—by the time she had regained consciousness, the elastic string linking the bindings around her arms and the bindings around her legs had been undone, so compared to before, her posture had become a great deal more comfortable. However, that was only comparatively speaking, and it was hard to say that her actual circ.u.mstances had improved. The situation was as miserable as ever.
The situation—
Her hands, still bound together with elastic string, had been hung from the ceiling using some sort of rope—and her legs were dangling entirely off the ground, leaving Iori completely restrained. Her own red knit cap had even been pulled down over her eyes as a blindfold.
“…S-Schoolgirl Bondage!”
With no audience to hear it, the joke she had made at the expense of her own wellbeing only echoed in vain.
“…Bleeeh…”
a.s.sessing the situation from an objective point of view, it seemed she had been kidnapped. Even with the blindfold, she could tell that this wasn’t the living room of her apartment—and in the last bits of consciousness she could recall, she had seen a fourth character, neither Soushiki nor Naguma, make an appearance. Most likely, that man—she was pretty sure it had been a man—had somehow rendered her unconscious and carried here all the way here (where exactly was “here”?)—or something along those lines. In which case, that man must have been the one to cut the third elastic string.
“…I guess I owe him a thank you for that part.”
Still, her current state…
Her current state, with her arms hung from the ceiling and her feet unable to touch the floor, was no less strenuous. Iori’s weight was on the light side for someone of her height, but nonetheless, it felt like her arms were on the verge of tearing off.
Honestly, now…
What was the point of all this?
It felt stupid to even bother worrying about it anymore.
But if she were to force herself to come up with a theory—most likely… that man was in cahoots with Naguma Sawarabi, the traditionally-dressed naginata user. She remembered Soushiki muttering that he had a sword-wielding older brother, or something like that. Based upon her dim recollection, Iori was pretty sure the man who kidnapped her had been holding a j.a.panese sword.
The Zerozaki and—the Sawarabi.
Were they engaged in some sort of conflict—perhaps?
There seemed to be a subtle difference of nuance there—but thinking about it that way made things easy to understand. She didn’t understand why, but Iori apparently belonged to the “Zerozaki” side—which made her current situation incredibly dangerous. Now that she had fallen into the “enemy’s” hands, she was a regular carp on the chopping block.
“…”
And yet.
Even now that it had come to this—
Iori somehow lacked a sense of crisis.
She didn’t feel anxious.
She wasn’t taking things seriously.
Not that she was being irresponsible, exactly…
More accurately, somewhere deep in Iori’s heart—there was a part of her that felt distinctly rea.s.sured. To ill.u.s.trate that feeling, it was the sense of security that comes from the thought, “No matter what happens to me, I know there’s someone out there who will come rescue me, so I’ll be fine.”
In other words—Soushiki Zerozaki.
It was because of that wireframe man.
Why?
Since when—had she come to depend on him so much? There hadn’t been any occasion for her to develop those feelings. Her first impression of him had been nothing beyond “pervert,” and little had happened after that to change her opinion. He may have swooped in from the balcony to save her, but as her current situation showed, he hadn’t actually succeeded. There was even a chance he had already been murdered by Naguma Sawarabi on the roof of her apartment building. They hadn’t spoken to each other that many times, and most of what he had said had been lost on her. There had been close to zero opportunities for him to earn her trust.
And yet.
Here she was—trusting him.
Here she was—relying on him.
She had faith that he would come rescue her.
“…”
Almost like he was family.
Before he had done anything—without any reason—without any basis—despite all the evidence to dissuade her—she believed in him, as if it were perfectly natural.
Thinking back, that may have been true from the start.
The disa.s.sociation from reality when she stabbed Yasumichi.
The disa.s.sociation from reality throughout her entire life.
Perhaps the source of it all had been one and the same.
If so, that would come as quite the shock.
Iori—had believed in Soushiki since before she met him.
“…I wonder what you call this feeling…”
Iori let slip a small giggle of a laugh.
“How to put it… It’s not ‘comical,’ exactly… Yeah, that’s it. It’s what you’d call—a ‘masterpiece."”
In that moment…
There came a metallic squeak.
It was probably the sound of door hinges creaking—someone must have come into the room. Of course, that was a.s.suming this was some kind of room. Iori hadn’t necessarily been strung up indoors, so on the chance that she was actually outside, it may have been the sound of someone exiting a building. Judging from the stagnation of the air, the first possibility seemed most likely, but seeing as she was blindfolded, Iori couldn’t draw a conclusion with any confidence.
The one who showed up—was a man carrying a j.a.panese sword.
He was wearing a baseball cap with a skull and crossbones on it, along with a pair of thick purple sungla.s.ses. A baggy sweatshirt with a collar tall enough to cover up his mouth, and brown shorts that likewise looked about three sizes too big. Thick-soled, gaudily decorated basketball shoes on his feet—and to top it all off, various accessories adorning the rest of his body. Everything about the way he dressed himself clashed wildly with the traditional sword he held in his left hand.
Not that Iori could see any of that, of course.
Another creaking sound rang out. Apparently, he had closed the door. Next, Iori heard the sound of footsteps drawing near—and finally, they stopped somewhere close to her.
“…Such a calm expression you’re wearing.”
Iori recoiled at the chill in his voice.
Showing no concern for her reaction, the man with the sword continued.
“I see—so this is the Zerozaki Family. Truly sublime—however, there is nothing more repulsive than the bond of trust between fellow psycho killers. It really is—the worst.”
“…?”
In response to Iori’s confusion—the man with the sword introduced himself.
“My name is Hawatari Sawarabi[1]—although my enemies all refer to me as ‘the Haze of Purple Bloodstains."”
“…I-I see…”
Judging by the man’s unsettling alias—Iori’s future prospects seemed bleak.
“U-Umm, you see…”
Iori’s confusion hadn’t abated in the slightest, but regardless, she opened her mouth to speak. Staying quiet was the worst thing she could do in this scenario. If she didn’t say anything, the other man would dominate the conversation. She had learned that the hard way with Soushiki Zerozaki and Naguma Sawarabi.
“U-Um, first of all, would you be kind enough to let me down from here? As you can see, I am but a slender young girl. Very frail. I’m actually rather sickly, too, cough, cough.”
“…”
The man went quiet.
But that wasn’t going to be enough to stop her. You can do it, Iori!
“Cough, cough… Gogh! Sunflowers!”
She flashed him a smile reminiscent of a sunflower.
No reaction.
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“You are the bait.”
After a long silence—the man spoke as if nothing had just happened.
“The bait to lure out the Twentieth h.e.l.l—and bait serves no purpose if it isn’t dangled.”
“Come on… It’s not like you’re fishing for a black ba.s.s or anything…”
“That aside, this is a rarity. A Zerozaki is a ‘Zerozaki’ by birth, and yet is not a ‘Zerozaki’ by birth. I knew the fact itself—but I never imagined I would have the opportunity to witness the ‘transformation’ with my own two eyes.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m some kind of endangered species…” Iori shook her head back and forth. “But more importantly, umm, Hawatari… san, Hawatari-san. Naguma—that Naguma Sawarabi person—am I correct in a.s.suming he’s your little brother?”
“Indeed. He is my little brother, incompetent as he may be,” Hawatari answered in a cold tone of voice. “He should be returning here shortly. Although I don’t intend to make light of my brother’s abilities, I doubt he would be able to secure a victory against the Twentieth h.e.l.l.”
“…”
“My brother—still has his shortcomings, it seems.”
So—they really were brothers. Now that she was conscious of it, their voices sounded almost identical. However, they were polar opposites in att.i.tude, and she couldn’t sense any of the qualities of the flippant and frivolous Naguma in this man. Although they had the same voice—the warmth in those voices differed greatly. Naguma’s tone hadn’t been so cold.
Or, rather.
Never in her life had Iori heard such a cold voice. It was a frigidity that would never be heard within “everyday life,” that could never be cultivated living an ordinary life, that was impossible to imitate even if you tried—
The Haze of Purple Bloodstains.
“…This ‘Twentieth h.e.l.l’ you mentioned, um, that’s him, Soushiki-san—isn’t it?”
“Correct. Your ‘brother."”
“…”
Apparently, everyone had reached the implicit understanding that Soushiki was Iori’s brother. The only one left who was too stubborn to accept it was Iori herself—well, no, at this point, even Iori had come halfway to accepting it.
Halfway.
At the very least, she was in the process of changing.
Somehow, she was mutating.
Something was mutating.
Just yesterday, if she had been dangled from the ceiling like this, she almost certainly would have burst into an unabashed fit of tears.
Just what—did that imply?
She was no longer able to cry.
Did that mean she had become stronger?
Or did it mean she had become weaker?
Halfway.
In that case, once the “mutation” was fully complete…
What was going to become of her?
“For what reason—why are you going after Soushiki-san?”
“You’re in no position to be worried about others. We are not going after Soushiki Zerozaki; our target is the Zerozaki Family, the ‘Zerozaki’ as a whole. You fall into that same category, as it were—don’t make the mistake of thinking those bindings will be undone while you still live.”
“…A-Ahaha, you know, with the way you phrased that, I could take that to mean, ‘We’re totes gonna kill you someday, Iori-chan!’…”
“I would be impressed by your language skills if you could find another way to interpret it.” In contrast to the stiff smile plastered on Iori’s face, Hawatari Sawarabi didn’t so much as smirk. “The Zerozaki Family is a small group, consisting of a mere 24 people in total—25, if we include you. To annihilate the clan in its entirety should not be overly difficult.”
“…”
A 24-person group of psycho killers sounded like a pretty big deal, but Hawatari Sawarabi, who had the nerve to declare he was going to annihilate them all, was clearly no less of an anomaly.
“Disregarding a few unknown elements, perhaps the biggest powerhouse among the Zerozaki Family is Soushiki Zerozaki—the Twentieth h.e.l.l, Mind Render. In other words, if we are able to eliminate him, exterminating the rest of the family should not be an impossible task.”
“W-Why would you do that…? This isn’t some kind of manga, all this talk of killing is just so…”
“…”
When asked why he would do that—Hawatari Sawarabi did not answer. It was different from his previous lapses of silence; it was a silence that gave off the sense of a willful refusal.
But why?
Was it, perhaps, not that he simply wouldn’t answer—
But that he didn’t want to answer…?
Either way—silence wasn’t good.
“E-Er… Then, let’s change the subject. Voila! Umm, where are we right now?”
“Did you really believe I would tell you that?”
“B-But, you see. If no one knows where we are, Soushiki-san will have no way of rescuing me. Right?” While noting to herself that she had spoken as if Soushiki “rescuing” her was a given, Iori pressed on. “So you see, you could at least give me a rough idea of our location…”
“Your concern is unnecessary. Those of the Zerozaki Family have a way of ‘identifying’—no, I should say ‘resonating’ with one another. I don’t have to go out of my way to notify him of our general location. Left to his own devices, he will track us down of his own accord. Therefore… there is no need for you to know where we are.”
“…”
“The same could be said of nearly any Zerozaki, but Mind Render is a rather confident man. He is sure to come here by himself, without anyone else’s help—and that is precisely when ‘h.e.l.l’ will meet the worst possible demise.”
“…Hey, aren’t you pretty confident yourself?” Iori said to Hawatari, voicing the “youuu (↑)” with a deliberately taunting inflection.
At any rate, things weren’t looking good. Hawatari was giving off the vibe that he was just about ready to end the conversation with Iori and leave the area. Tied up and strung off the ground as she was, conversing with him like this was all Iori could do… In that case, she had to extract as much information from Hawatari as she possibly could. First, she had to tear down Hawatari’s cool-headed sagacity, his calm and collected demeanor—the man’s stronghold of frigidity. Depending on the situation, that could be a dangerous course of action, but as far as danger went, it was questionable whether Iori had any options left that weren’t dangerous.
“Who’s to say that your little brother, Naguma-san, hasn’t been done in as we speak? And there’s no guarantee that you’ll win against Soushiki-san, either. Using me as a hostage might not be as effective as you think.”
“…”
Ooh. No response.
Maybe it was working?
Then she had to keep pushing. It was time to bring out the peace negotiations.
“After all, isn’t Soushiki-san the ‘worst,’ as you’d put it? There’s no way anyone could win against the worst, nope, not happening. ‘Cause the worst is, you know, the worst.”
“…”
“Well then. Why don’t you make things right with me and undo these bindings right now? If you do that, I’ll let everything slide. Don’t worry, I have a big heart. I am the female protagonist, after all.”
“…”
According to Iori’s script, that was where he was supposed to come back with, “So you’re a heroine in both body and soul, huh?”, a sign that he had been cowed into submission, but it appeared her plan had failed miserably, as silence was Hawatari’s only reply.
“…Another unnecessary concern.”
The sound of him turning on his heel.
Ah—apparently, he was ready to take his leave.
She wished he would at least lower her enough to let the tips of her toes touch the floor.
“I am well aware of what the terror of the Zerozaki entails. Therefore, I am not foolish enough to confront one without taking precautionary measures.”
“…Then, you’re saying you have a plan to oppose Soushiki-san?”
“I have two, at the very least.”
“…Am I one of them?”
“No—,” answered Hawatari. “—You are nothing more than a sort of insurance. Nothing that could be considered a plan… Moreover, you aren’t a hostage to be used against Mind Render; you are a hostage to be used against the Zerozaki Family as a whole. Your job is to stay here and lure in the remaining Zerozaki indefinitely—the perfect role for one as powerless as yourself.”
“…Wow, that’s the worst.”
“…Don’t use the word ‘worst’ so casually. It makes me sick to my stomach. How irritating.”
In response to Iori’s joking reply, Hawatari’s tone grew harsher. Evidently, he had some sort of hang-up about the word “worst.”
“So, what are the two plans?”
“As if I would tell you.”
Hawatari gave that answer as if it were a matter of course (well, it pretty much was), followed by the creak of a door closing.
“…”
Iori had been left behind.
Her wrists still hurt, and she still didn’t understand anything.
Hardly an acceptable state of affairs for a heroine.
“…T-The Hanged Man!”
Of course, there was no response.
Moreover, using the card’s drawing as a reference, she was in the reversed position.
…Its meaning is “a meaningless sacrifice.”
✦ ✦
Yumiya Sawarabi—archer.
Naguma Sawarabi—naginata user.
Hawatari Sawarabi—swordsman.
Each Sawarabi was specialized only in his or her particular style of martial arts, with all the respective advantages and disadvantages that entailed, but for that very reason, once their three abilities were brought together, they became a nearly unstoppable force. Enough even to rival what was essentially the Sawarabi’s head house, the “Niounomiya” Sleight of Slaughter Group.
To begin with, Hawatari, Naguma, and Yumiya had been designed as one unit in the form of the three people. As the oldest brother, Hawatari was generally the one to give the orders—but there was no established hierarchy among the three. Each respective member of the three would take their own respective course of action—and always obtained the best possible results. Indeed—if the three of them were together, even the Twentieth h.e.l.l would be nothing to fear. That was what Hawatari Sawarabi believed. There would be no need to go to such elaborate lengths, no need to adopt such an uncharacteristic strategy—even without any of that, they would be able to cut down Soushiki Zerozaki where he stood.
However.
One point of their triangle was missing now.
They were no longer in perfect condition.
Perhaps Naguma would deny it—but the members of the Zerozaki Family were not the type to be taken on in a one-on-one fight. That didn’t just apply to Soushiki Zerozaki as an individual; yes, it went even for the girl in the red knit cap—Iori Mutou, if he remembered correctly. That was the reason that the Zerozaki, despite otherwise playing second fiddle to the Niounomiya and the Yamiguchi, were the greatest object of fear and evasion among the Killing Names.
As such.
As such, it was necessary to have a plan—
“…!!”
After exiting the shed where the Zerozaki girl was imprisoned—Hawatari Sawarabi noticed it and stopped where he stood. Hawatari’s immediate instinct was to draw his sword—but he narrowly managed to stop himself and slide it back into its sheath.
“…So—you came.”
In a low, horribly cold tone, he questioned it.
With a presence so indistinct it was hard to tell whether it was really there or not, it vaguely maintained a human silhouette in the dim light. Possessing an indeterminate quality that made it hard to tell how long it had been there, in a way that seemed to scrutinize Hawatari—there it stood. He could only faintly make it out—but he could just barely tell it was wearing red clothing. Anything beyond that was like a void, impossible to pin down.
The color red—completely shut out its existence.
“To tell the truth, we hadn’t held very high expectations…”
Hawatari strung his words together with the utmost nonchalance—but he didn’t relax his guard. He was poised to draw his sword at any moment, and he was radiating murderous intent with no attempt to hide it. That was not a calculated action so much as an emotional reaction—without doing so, it would be impossible for Hawatari to stand before it.
Noting Hawatari’s stance, the red silhouette gave a light laugh of, “Ha!” and a shrug of the shoulders. As if to call it insignificant, as if to say it was nothing that merited concern, the figure didn’t so much as flinch in the face of Hawatari’s bloodl.u.s.t.
“There’s this one ‘debt’ I owe the Zerozaki Family, you see—and besides, the way things stand now, the scales are overwhelmingly ‘unbalanced.’ Doesn’t make for a very interesting story,” said the silhouette, almost like a taunt—or to be more accurate, simply in a tone dripping with sarcasm. “Someone has to even things out. ‘Help the weak and crush the strong’—that’s my creed. Now that you Sawarabi boys have lost your younger sister, it’d be a tall order to take on Mind Render by yourselves.”
“So you’ll—step up to a.s.sist us?”
“Of course—so long as I get what I’m owed, ‘take on any task, regardless of the difficulty’ is my other creed. Unlike you boys, I’m traditionally apolitical. Revenge and the like mean nothing to me… As long as I’m having fun, I don’t care about anything else—as long I’m having fun. The more fun I have, the less I care about the rest.”
“…Very well, then. There is no alternative.”
The moment Hawatari nodded, the red silhouette flashed a cynical grin and abruptly disappeared. Not the slightest trace or sound had been left behind. It was easy to doubt whether anyone had truly been there to begin with. In a way, it felt as though he had fallen victim to some sort of illusion.
He relaxed his stance and took a deep breath.
“Indeed. That woman may make for a repulsive enemy—but she is no less terrifying to have as an ally… Still, true enough,” Hawatari muttered to himself apathetically, “a superlative is necessary to combat a superlative. The one to take down the ‘worst’ should be none other than the ‘strongest."”
(Hirofumi Mutou—Pa.s.sed)
(Miharu Mutou—Pa.s.sed)
(Hatsubame Mutou—Pa.s.sed)
(Kengo Mutou—Pa.s.sed)
(Chapter Five—The End)
[1] The first character in Hawatari’s given name is the kanji for “sword.”