Noriko followed Shuya's eyes and turned around. Her face suddenly grew tense. That's right…what was going on with Tatsumichi? Was he an enemy or not?
Tatsumichi Oki stood there, staring at them. Shuya felt his field of vision grow narrow from the tension—the way it might in a speeding car—but in the corner of his eye he could still make out the large hatchet in Tatsumichi's right hand.
Shuya reflexively raised his hand to the knife tucked in his belt.
That set it off. Tatsumichi's hand, the one holding the hatchet, twitched, and then he began running towards them.
Shuya shoved Noriko, who was still holding the cat, into the bushes.
Tatsumichi was already right in front of him.
Shuya quickly lifted up his day pack. The hatchet went right into it, splitting it open so its contents spilled to the ground. Water sprayed out of the bag from the broken water bottle. The blade reached Shuya's arm. A searing pain ran under his skin.
He tossed down the torn day pack and leaped back to gain some distance. Tatsumichi's face was so wound up the whites of his eyes formed circles around his pupils.
Shuya couldn't believe it. Yes, they were in a dire situation, and Shuya had been for a moment suspicious too, but how could he?…How could that cheerful, nice guy, Tatsumichi, do such a thing?
Tatsumichi quickly glanced over to where Noriko was, in the bushes. Following his gaze, Shuya looked over at Noriko too. Noriko's face and lips froze at Tatsumichi's glance. The cat had already gone off elsewhere.
Suddenly Tatsumichi turned to Shuya and swung his hatchet sideways.
Shuya met the blow with the knife he'd pulled out from his belt. Unfortunately it was still inside its leather sheath, but in any case, there was a locking sound. He managed to stop the blow about five centimeters away from his cheek. Shuya could see the blue ripple on the hatchet blade, probably formed when it had been forged.
Before Tatsumichi could swing back, Shuya tossed his knife out and grabbed Tatsumichi's right arm, which was holding the hatchet. But Tatsumichi forced a swing, which although slow managed to hit the right side of Shuya's head. Some of the slightly wavy long hair above his right ear fell, and a sharp tear ran through his earlobe. It didn't hurt much. A silly, inappropriate thought crossed his mind: well, it's no big deal, Shinji had his pierced, after all.
Tatsumichi switched the hatchet from his right hand to his left but before he could swing at Shuya again, Shuya swept his left leg under Tatsumichi's feet. Tatsumichi's legs swayed, all right now, fall!
But he managed to stay up, teetered, and then spun around. He fell on top of Shuya. Shuya moved back into the shrubbery. The sound of crushed branches surrounded them.
Shuya continued moving back. Forced by Tatsumichi's awesome strength, he was now practically running backwards. Noriko's face was vanishing from his sight. In this unreal situation, another absurd thought crossed his mind. He recalled Little League practice. Shuya Nanahara, backwards-running champion, yeah!
Then his feet felt funny.
He suddenly recalled how there was a steep slope towards the field with the shrine. I'm falling!
The two of them tumbled down the slope covered with shrubbery. The clear early morning sky and greenery spun around and around. But he still managed to hold onto Tatsumichi's wrist. He felt as if they'd fallen from a great height, but it was probably only ten meters or so. Their bodies crashed with a loud thump, and they were still. The area was bathed in sunlight. They'd fallen into the field.
Shuya was crushed under Tatsumichi. He had to get up before Tatsumichi could!
But that was when Shuya felt something strange. Although Tatsumichi had come at him with the force of an air compressor, the strength in his arms had completely gone. They'd gone limp. His face under the lower part of Tatsumichi's chest, Shuya saw why, as he looked up. Right above him, the hatchet was lodged into Tatsumichi's face. Half of the blade stuck out from his face like the top layer of chocolate on a Christmas cake. The hatchet had landed on his forehead, neatly split open the left eyeball (a gooey liquid leaked out with his blood), and a pale blue light reflected off the blade inside his mouth.
Tatsumichi still held onto the hatchet, but Shuya was the one holding his wrists. Shuya felt a horrible sensation running at the speed of light from Tatsumichi's face to his wrists. As if tracing the course of this sensation, blood slid down the blade, flowing from Tatsumichi onto Shuya's hands holding Tatsumichi's wrists. Shuya let out a low groan, released his hands, and got out from underneath Tatsumichi's body. Tatsumichi's body rolled over, face up, his horrific dead face thrust into the morning light.
Huffing and puffing, Shuya felt a numb urge to vomit.
The incomparable horror of Tatsumichi's face wasn't a trivial matter, but for Shuya something even more important concerned himself. Yes. He had killed someone. Worse yet, a fellow classmate. It was no use convincing himself it was an accident. After all—he had done everything he could to deflect the blade, and therefore direct it towards Tatsumichi by twisting Tatsumichi's wrists as far back as possible.
He felt incredibly nauseous.
But Shuya gulped and held back the urge to vomit. He lifted his head and looked up at the slope he'd just tumbled down.
He couldn't see beyond the shrubbery covering the slope. He'd left Noriko alone. That's right, the important thing now was to protect Noriko. He had no time to puke. He had to hurry back to Noriko, Shuya told himself as if these thoughts would calm him down. He stood up and stared down at Tatsumichi's face and the hatchet for a while.
He hesitated but then pursed his lips together and pried Tatsumichi's fingers loose from the handle of the hatchet that split his face. He couldn't just leave Tatsumichi like this. Of course he couldn't bury him—but Tatsumichi's hatchet face was just too much. He couldn't bear it. He grabbed the handle and tried to pull the hatchet out of Tatsumichi's face.
Tatsumichi's face was stuck to it though as it came up with the hatchet. The hatchet was lodged in so deeply, it was stuck.
Shuya took a deep breath. Oh God.
Then he thought about it. No. What's this about God? Ms. Anno was a devoted Christian but no thanks to her faith in God she ended up getting raped by Sakamochi. Ah, praise the Lord. Shuya felt another surge of anger.
He clenched his teeth and knelt beside Tatsumichi's head and put his trembling left hand on his classmate's forehead. With his right hand he pulled on the hatchet, which made a horrible spurting sound as blood sprayed out of Tatsumichi's face, and the hatchet came loose.
He felt as if he were in a nightmare. Cracked in the middle, Tatsumichi's head was now asymmetrical. It looked too unreal. It looked like a plastic fake. Shuya realized for the first time in his life how malleable and fragile the human body was.
He gave up trying to close Tatsumichi's eyes. His left eyeball and eyelid was split, the eyelid shriveled and swollen so badly it couldn't be shut. His right eye was probably manageable, but who'd want a winking corpse? It was in bad taste given the circumstances.
He felt sick again.
But he stood up again and turned around. To get back to Noriko he'd have to take the long way around up the foot trail.
Shuya's eyes opened wide again though now because…
…there was a boy wearing glasses and a school coat in the middle of the field—the male class representative, Kyoichi Motobuchi.
And this representative was holding a pistol.
30 students remaining