Murderer in the Flower of Death Page 2

  “Don’t make excuses to me, of all people!” Metal ladle met bruised forehead with a dull thunk! and Kyousuke quickly shut up. Ayaka Kamiya, Kyousuke’s little sister and the one thing he truly valued in the world, stared up at him, hands on hips, smooth cheeks puffed out in frustration, eyes full of accusation. Thirteen years old this year, she wore her pigtails tied in purple-checkered ribbons and sported a matching apron. “Really…I was so worried about you, you know? That convenience store is less than five minutes’ walk away, and you were gone almost an hour! I thought you were over all that fighting, but here we are…”

  She gazed up at him with tearful eyes, and Kyousuke grew flustered. “M-my bad…I’m sorry! Really I am! I’ll act better from now on, so…”

  “Uh-huh. You said that last time, remember? When you burst in alone on that huge biker gang meet. Big brother, how much will you make me worry before you’re satisfied? No matter how tough you think you are, if you keep getting into these crazy fights…someday you’re going to get in over your head, and you won’t be coming back here for me to scold! Don’t you understand?!”

  Her unusually firm tone struck a soft spot in Kyousuke’s heart. “I’m sorry, Ayaka. Really, I am.” His apology was genuine this time, and he cast his eyes down at the floor. “From now on, I’ll be careful, I promise.”

  Ayaka sighed. “Well, it’s fine. At least you came home in one piece…even if your whole body is covered in cuts.” Her tone was gentle, and when Kyousuke lifted his gaze to meet hers, Ayaka was smiling sweetly.

  Suddenly embarrassed, Kyousuke unconsciously turned to look away. “Nah, they’re just scratches. Rub a little spit on ’em and they’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, really? Then, I guess I should—”

  Lick.

  “Wha—?! What the hell, Ayaka? J-just licking my cheek out of nowhere…?!”

  “If I rub some spit on it, it’ll heal, right? And what’s with the surprise? How adorable!”

  “…Shut up.”

  Kyousuke put his hand to the cheek she had licked, looking at her with reproachful eyes. But that glinting look that shook up the hooligans was completely wasted on an opponent like his little sister.

  Ayaka returned a mischievous wink, and stuck her pink tongue out at him, saying, “By the by, big brother. You have to properly sterilize your cuts, you know? And wash your clothes… Ah, do you want to get in the bath first? And then dinner? …A-and then, some Ay—”

  “Don’t say it!! —‘Some Ayaka’? If that’s what you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear anything about it!!”

  “Eh? What are you saying, big brother? I was gonna say, ‘Have some ice cream.’ Do you really want to make out with your sister that much? Heh-heh.”

  After dramatically tilting her head, Ayaka laughed weirdly.

  “…Hey, come on. I totally got you! You’re so embarrassed!”

  Kyousuke turned his mouth down into a slight frown, but otherwise took his younger sister’s ridicule in stride. Whenever he came home after a fight, she found a way to teach him a lesson. Oh, Ayaka… I may not be able to avoid these pointless fights, but I still hate to make her worry. Kyousuke’s hand clenched into a tight fist.

  With these fists, he would protect his family from everything wicked in the world. Any snotty brats who might tease Ayaka…any arrogant punks who might catcall her…just like he’d crushed those hooligans earlier, Kyousuke would use these hands to strike down anyone who dared to cross him.

  He wasn’t exactly sure when he had started to be called things like “Slayer” and “Megadeath.” It took a real bunch of geniuses to pick such trashy nicknames, that was for sure, but even so, once word got around, Kyousuke had found himself something of an outcast, feared and distrusted by normal people…and especially by girls his own age, it seemed. The only girl in the world who dared to get close to Kyousuke without hesitation was his little sister.

  “…Well, then. I guess I’ll head back to the kitchen.” Ayaka, retying the strings of her apron, snatched up her ladle, her whole demeanor growing cheerful in an instant. “Mama and the others are still gone for a while on their trip overseas…so I have to do my best! Big brother, why don’t you go take care of your wounds? Dinner will be done soon, so you’d better get moving!”

  “O-okay.” Kyousuke frowned. “Sorry you always have to take care of me.”

  He was no match for his little sister, who was always so grounded despite her young age. With their parents constantly occupied at work, Ayaka managed to keep the household running like clockwork while still attending school.

  She was completely different from her worthless older brother, who did nothing but get in fights. But Ayaka was…

  “Ah-ha-ha, you really are a handful. You’d lose your head if it weren’t for me, you know… But I need you, too! You keep me safe, so I can live with a smile on my face! Stay by my side forever, and let me take care of you, ’kay?” She flashed him an innocent grin.

  Kyousuke felt his cheeks flush. Apparently Ayaka needed him after all. So he would… “Of course! I’ll always be by your side, and I’ll give you plenty to worry about.”

  Days like these were precious, and he wished they could continue on forever.

  “And on to our next item…,” the news anchor said. “Just after six PM tonight, the bodies of several young men, all of them appearing to be around twenty years old, were discovered in an abandoned warehouse in the eastern district of Otsuki town. Reports indicate that the police are treating this as a murder case.”

  The dining room was immaculately clean, decorated in soft uniform shades of white and beige. Kyousuke, who had been gleefully enjoying Ayaka’s homemade stuffed cabbage, choked in surprise.

  “Big brother?! Hey…a-are you okay?! Don’t tell me there was something wrong with my cooking!”

  “N-no, but…,” Kyousuke coughed, “the news…on TV…” Doubled over, he pointed shakily at the television.

  Ayaka rushed around the table, knocking over a chair in her haste. “Huh? The TV news? What’s on the news…?” Her eyes followed Kyousuke’s finger to the screen.

  Displayed there was a clearly abandoned warehouse, barely standing it was so old and ruined. It was the same place that Kyousuke had been taken by the hooligans just a few hours earlier. They said there had been a murder there?

  “Altogether, twelve corpses were discovered,” the anchor continued. “The victims appear to have succumbed to extreme blunt force trauma. Investigators say that a large number of weapons, including metal bats and iron pipes, were scattered about the scene and are believed to have been used in the crime. The police will be conducting a full investigation, but cannot rule out the possibility that these young men were involved in some kind of gang violence.”

  “N-no way!” Staring intently at the screen, Ayaka gave voice to her surprise. “That’s close to home, right, Kyousuke? Yeah, it can’t be more than a short walk from here…”

  Kyousuke remained silent, trying his best to make sense of the situation. A place he’d been just a few hours before…a bunch of punks he’d just beaten down…the same weapons they’d tried to use on him…and now, they were all a bunch of corpses?! Ridiculous! But the way it looked, it was like…

  Like he had gathered them up in the warehouse, sealed it off, and slaughtered each and every one of them.

  “…Hey, big brother…what’s up? You look pale.” Ayaka’s voice was heavy with concern. “Could it be…? Don’t tell me you had something to do with this?!”

  “No! I don’t know anything about it!” Kyousuke’s voice came out so loud that it even surprised him.

  For a moment, Ayaka recoiled from his frightening expression. However, she immediately stood back up straight, taking hold of her confused brother.

  “Calm down, Kyousuke! What are you so worried about? It’s not like you were involved…right?”

  Kyousuke remained silent.

  “Please…just tell me,” Ayaka pleaded softly. “Did you go to that warehou
se today, big brother? What happened there? You don’t have to tell me all at once, but just talk to me, okay?” As she spoke, Ayaka gently rubbed Kyousuke’s tense shoulders, and gradually his heart rate returned to normal.

  The anchor on the TV was already reading another news story.

  “A-ah…sorry. I’m fine, Ayaka, really…I’m just…sorry.”

  “I know, I’m not worried,” she assured him. “I just…I want to hear about it.”

  “You’re sure? All right…I’ll tell you, Ayaka.” And Kyousuke did.

  He told her about the abandoned warehouse where he’d been taken, about how he had turned the tables on the twelve hooligans by himself. How he had done it all with his bare hands, not using a single weapon. And how he had definitely not killed any of them, leaving the hooligans beaten and battered—but alive—as he fled the scene.

  As Kyousuke finished his story, Ayaka’s face took on an unusually serious expression. “So then, do you think that after you left, somebody went to the exact same warehouse, and…and murdered those people? Is that what you’re telling me?” Kyousuke nodded. “I’m sure if you talk to the police…I’m sure you can clear this up.”

  “Hmm…I guess…I guess you’re right.” Kyousuke fished his cell phone from his pocket, flicking through his contacts in search of a particular name. “First, I’ll talk to Zenigata.”

  Zenigata was a detective, a veteran of the force, who was always looking after Kyousuke, even though it often got him into trouble. He was one of the few people who understood Kyousuke, understood how he all too often found himself on the receiving end of a misunderstanding. With a deep breath, Kyousuke prepared to push the call button.

  Diiing-dooong.

  Diiing-dooong…

  “Huh? Who is that at this time…? Maybe a package from Mom?” The faulty doorbell continued to ring, as though it were breaking down for good, and in that moment, a chill ran down Kyousuke’s spine. He had a very bad feeling about this.

  “Wait, Ayaka!” Kyousuke managed to stop his little sister, who was turning toward the entryway. “I’m…I’m going out. You wait here. Got it?”

  “Big brother…? Y-yeah…I got it.”

  He left Ayaka standing in the dining room with a worried expression and headed toward the door. As he advanced down the hallway, the terrible feeling settled into his gut, growing stronger, thicker, heavier. Could it be? With timing like this?

  “Excuse me for calling so late at night. You must be Kyousuke Kamiya?” A well-kept man wearing a neat black leather jacket—clearly a policeman—stood in the entryway, several subordinates in shabby suits shuffling behind him. He closed the notebook he was carrying and turned his stern gaze on Kyousuke. His eyes were predatory, the eyes of a hunter accustomed to catching its prey.

  He had a menacing aura about him that was quite at odds with his friendly tone and polite speech. He seemed nothing like the other cops that Kyousuke knew. Criminal Investigation Unit 1. They handled high-profile murders. The dark feeling in his guts began to squirm.

  Kyousuke cleared his dry, sticky throat. “Y-yeah…I’m Kyousuke Kamiya. But—”

  “Do you have a moment?” The detective cut him off sharply.

  “Y-yes. That is, I don’t mind. I-in fact, I was just about to call the police about an incident that happened in a nearby abandoned warehouse a little while ago……”

  “Hmm…in that case, this is perfect.” The detective didn’t smile. “Why don’t you come give a statement down at the station?” As he spoke, he drew a pair of handcuffs from his belt, snapping them around Kyousuke’s wrists with a cold, metallic click.

  “Eh…?” This didn’t make sense. The policeman’s eyes seemed to bore right through Kyousuke, as though he were looking past a pile of garbage. “D-detective! What the hell kind of joke is this?”

  “Kyousuke Kamiya,” the man recited his name, practically spitting the syllables. Kyousuke thought of his accomplishments, the peaceful times he’d treasured, the happiness he had managed to hold on to up to this point. The detective’s next words swept all that away.

  “With regard to the incident in which twelve young men were murdered inside an abandoned warehouse in the eastern district of Otsuki town—I am placing you under arrest as a suspect.”

  “…And that’s how it is,” Kurumiya continued. “The sixteen of you are gathered here in the first-year Class A at Purgatorium Remedial Academy because you are all killers. Take a look around, eh? Everyone you see is the same: a murderer. The tough-looking ones…the ones that seem harmless…all the same! Heh-heh-heh…you should definitely take this chance to get as buddy-buddy as you can in the next few hours.” She finished with another childish giggle.

  Kyousuke clenched a fist under his desk, resisting the urge to stand, to shout, to flee. He was trapped. Get friendly…? As if I could get friendly with these scumbags! What a joke! He kept his head low, shaking only slightly.

  Fifteen murderers, all in the same room with him…it was almost too much. And then Kyousuke realized that no, there weren’t fifteen, not anymore, anyway. As Kurumiya had been speaking in her oppressive yet sweetly lisping way, people in white medical garb had come and fished Mohawk out from the ocean of blood, carrying his mangled, nearly unrecognizable form away on a stretcher with a practiced manner.

  He wondered if Mohawk had also committed murder. He shuddered, thinking that he had gone and picked a fight with someone like that. If Kurumiya hadn’t shown up, Kyousuke probably would have been the one carried out on a stretcher. A school where juvenile convicts were gathered—he’d heard about it and thought that surely it was a place like a reform school; clearly, he’d been naive. A whole class full of murderers…it seemed unreal. This is bad…this is really bad. A place like this, I’ve got nowhere to turn. There was no way that in this schoolhouse full of lunatics there was another normal person like Kyousuke.

  Even though he had been arrested as a murderer, even though he had been found guilty, even though he had been forced into this madhouse of a school…there had to have been some mistake! This wasn’t right, this couldn’t be!

  And yet, there was nothing he could do. Just by being here, enrolled in this school, Kyousuke was a murderer in everyone’s eyes but his own. Kurumiya, his classmates…he might as well have been one of them.

  I feel like a sheep thrown into a wolves’ den. If word got out that he was just a normal teenager…would he be laughed at…humiliated? Or worse, he might be killed on the spot! I guess I don’t have much of a choice… I’ll have to pretend that I’m a murderer, too. Faced with the threat of a gruesome death at the hands of his classmates, Kyousuke steeled himself.

  “Okeydokey, then,” Kurumiya was saying. “I’ll have you each come forward, one by one, and give us all a little self-introduction. Tell us your name and age, how many people you killed, how you killed them, your motives and so on…and make it good, ’kay?” She grinned menacingly. “You each have three minutes. We’ll go in seating arrangement order. Oh, and if you try to screw around or crack jokes…I’ll make you puke blood.”

  Hefting the still-sticky pipe over one petite shoulder, Kurumiya stepped away from the lectern. Within such easy reach of that lethal weapon, the pressure to give an acceptable self-introduction was palpable.

  Kyousuke, however, was facing a unique difficulty. He would be expected to explain the method of his killings and his motivation, but he had never killed anyone in the first place. Clearly he’d have to make something up, but every one of the other students listening was an experienced murderer. Shuddering under the weight of anxiety, Kyousuke wondered how he could possibly get through this alive.

  “…Geez, what a pain,” grumbled the older girl next to him as she rose to her feet, stifling a yawn. She seemed to be up first. Tossing her manicure tools down onto her desk, she languidly approached the podium, and Kyousuke noticed, for the first time, her incredible beauty.

  She had smooth alabaster skin and delicate, handsome features. She wore her rust
-red hair in a long, wavy ponytail, the shapely bangs framing an aristocratic face. Her eyes, the same dark wine color as her hair, were half closed, her full eyelashes casting thin shadows over lightly made-up cheeks.

  She was tall and slender, with a model’s figure. Her legs extending from beneath her short skirt were long and beautiful, and the black-and-white striped kneesocks offered a tantalizing glimpse of her upper thighs.

  Kyousuke gulped, feeling a different kind of tension than before.

  She sat right next to him, so he could probably try and talk to her.

  Not that he would, of course. Not after her introduction.

  “I’m Eiri Akabane,” she began in a listless voice. “Fifteen years old. I’ve killed…six people.”

  She— Eiri said it as though it were nothing.

  “…Wha—?!” The classroom was noisy. Even Kurumiya seemed somewhere between astonished and impressed. Everyone looked shocked at the number of people she had killed. And it was no wonder, for who would think that such a lovely girl was a cutthroat who had taken six people’s lives?

  “I mean…whatever.” Dropping her gaze to her half-finished manicure, she continued, seeming mildly annoyed, “…I slit their throats with knives. The usual way. No reason. Not really. Even if I had one, I don’t remember it. So, no reason. Is that all? Eh, I guess. Anyway, nice to meet you.” Finishing with another small yawn, Eiri stepped down from the lectern.

  She’s seriously bad news. I was fooled by her appearance, but… Kyousuke glanced sidelong at Eiri, who had taken her seat and resumed decorating her nails. No way can I get involved with her. He wiped away a cold sweat, trying to regain his focus. All of my classmates are murderers. That’s the way it is. Even the ones that look harmless. I can’t forget that.