Chapter 12 - Countdown

Fuuka's crying was shrill as an emergency alarm. The daughter of Kenji and Yuki had light brown hair, bundled up in a cute knot at the top. In imitation of her father, she sported a miniature curl that hung down about two and a half centimeters down her forehead. Her tears dribbled down her pudgy cheeks and chin, before sliding down her young neck and causing the collar of her pink blouse to stick to her. Her soft, teal pants were cut a little above the ankle; she wore pink and white tennis shoes, which her mother had recently tied for her.

Jennifer still held her tightly. At first Fuuka had been trying to squirm out of the woman's grip, but she had given up any effort. She was almost limp against the woman's jacket, which Kenji now noticed was buttoned all the way up, covering the whole of the white v-neck. This was the first time Kenji had seen Jennifer since all the finalists were gathered together, when this all started. It was hard to believe how much had transpired, in an incredibly short period of time. Yuri Teshima, Fukuda Naota, Tomii Ryunosuke—and, most recently, Ozzy Smith's lifeline was shattered.

That it was Jennifer, this seemingly civil and collected woman, who now threatened him was a true surprise. He realized now that it should not have surprised him. This survival game continued to prove that everyone had great potential for cutthroat behavior. Now Kenji stood paralyzed, his hands itching to reach into his jacket, for the sake of obtaining is weapons, but he refused to act.

"Unless you're a total idiot, I shouldn't have to make this any more clear than it already is: I intend to win this and go to space. I'm not here to take your place and see a loved one. I just knew that someone would be coming here, and it happened to be you… Prying this daughter of yours from JAXA's hands was easy for me, but I suspect what comes next will be much harder for you."

Kenji gave a shaky nod. His eyes darted for a moment to the stairs. No one was there. Even Furuya or Yamato would have been welcomed sights at this time.

"You're hoping that someone will save you, Kenji!" Jennifer said, with a glimmer of light beaming off her gold-rimmed glasses. "But maybe you don't deserve to be saved? It looks like no one is rushing at the opportunity right now. It's just you, me, and this beautiful little girl. What's her name?"

Tightening his fists, until his knuckles were trembling, Kenji answered with an unwavering glare, "Fuuka."

"Fuuka," Jennifer repeated, with a light smile, "That's a beautiful name. So, I will give it to you plainly: if you give me your Diary, I will give you Fuuka, no strings attached."

This was not a difficult decision. He knew what handing over his Diary meant. He knew what happened when even Serika, one of the most seemingly trustworthy of finalists, obtained Ozzy's Diary. The alternative, however, was surely worse. He was being held at gunpoint, and his daughter was in Jennifer's hands. Refusal of Number 10's request meant either death for him or a horrible fate for his daughter, if not both. He would have to take the risk of likely annihilation, as that was certainly better than certain annihilation.

Kenji reached into his jacket and toward the area where his Diary was kept—his fingers found nothing. He searched the other areas within his jacket, no doubt making Jennifer suspicious of whether he was trying to pull some sort of trick. This was nothing of the sort, however; he realized with wide eyes that Furuya still had his Diary. All the saliva in his mouth seemed to dry up. He had never taken back the Diary.

"Number 8 has my Diary," Kenji started to mumble. "He took it from me just a moment ago…"

Jennifer scoffed. "You really expect me to believe that you would let that happen? I know you're a better player than that, Kenji. You're one of the strongest in this competition."

Kenji shook his head, quickly. "N- no, it's true! I thought you would have heard him, too, even through the door… He was quite loud…"

"I heard nothing!" Jennifer snapped, pulling Fuuka in closer. "And I think I would've heard something, too, if it had actually happened! Kenji, you may be good at everything else, but you're a terrible liar!"

"I would never lie! If I had my Diary, I would have given it to you already!"

"Shut up, Kenji!" Jennifer, with masterful speed, shifted Fuuka over to her other side, so she could hold her against her side while still aiming the gun at her father. With this newly freed hand, she unbuttoned her purple jacket. "You're too stubborn to respond to threats against even your own life… I would admire that, if it weren't getting in my way."

She then used her free hand to fling the jacket half off her body, so that on the side she held the gun and Fuuka she still had the purple on the outside, but on the opposite side, it hung behind her. Now it was plain to see what she had been concealing within the purple jacket—there was a system of wires wrapped around her white shirt, which led to what looked like a good sized explosive. There was a black bar running through the middle, on the front of the bomb.

Jennifer pressed down on a button on top of it, and the bar now lit up—a digital timer began to run down from the two minute mark. "If you won't respond to threats against your own life, then what about the life of your daughter?" Jennifer smirked. "Or are you really that cold and ruthless, Makabe?"

Kenji held in his breath. He had been frozen before, but only in the sense of being nearly motionless. Now his body was truly frigid. He felt this clamminess all over, and internally, he was left almost nulled by the cold. His eyes again went to the stairs; nobody was there.

"Is this the price I have to pay, for what I have done?" He asked himself, in his thoughts. "For shooting that JAXA employee? I have only ever harmed to protect… I have only done what was necessary to prevent future death… Do those rational, preventative measures warrant this? Does my daughter need to die, because I tried my hardest to protect Nanba Mutta?"

He eyed the timer. He always thought that one, in knowing he was going to die soon, would find the time slipping by slowly, with each second having incredible weight. Instead, he was carried by the fast currents of his mind, and he found himself struck down by the fear that he would be too wrapped up in his private thoughts to do anything, even if the "anything" was just enjoying the last few moments he would have with his daughter.

"You… You're horrible, making me watch the countdown to Fuuka's… to her… To this." He really could not pronounce these horrible words. He could not even look at his daughter. He no longer heard her sobbing, even; it had transitioned into a silent, more thorough misery.

"Kenji, you and I are two of the three greatest competitors in this survival game," Jennifer concluded. "You and I will both do whatever it takes to have our goals realized. We'll use anyone or anything, to get what we want, and that is what it takes, to claim victory."

Kenji debated reaching back into his jacket, but he knew that she would shoot him before he could even finish pulling the gun out. "Who's the third?" He asked, looking down at the floor.

"Number 7, Ozzy Smith," Jennifer stated. "You two are a lot alike, you know—"

"He's dead," Kenji interrupted.

"Oh." Jennifer scratched her head with her free hand. "Better for us, then. I guess the old man's luck was going to run out sooner than later. Did you—"

"He did it to himself," Kenji answered immediately. "He's the reason he died. If he had not played offensively, he would have survived."

Jennifer chuckled. "You think so, huh? My, my, maybe you're not who I thought you were, after all, with that kind of stupidity…"

"Don't you find it interesting, Jennifer, that when that counter reaches zero, the three greatest competitors in this competition will be dead?" Kenji looked up at her. "The explosion will not only Fuuka and I, but you'll be blown up, too." He still could not look at Fuuka. He just hoped she couldn't hear him right now, through her emotional turmoil. He did not want these bad words in her head. He wished and nearly prayed in his head, "These should not be the last things she has to think about…"

Jennifer merely frowned. "Yes, really interesting, Kenji." The horrible countdown was at thirty seconds. "But… I've already done my fair share to affect the course of this game. I was the one who found the three Green Cards, before they could be nabbed. The grenades meant for you wound up in my possession, which I was able to use against you and Mutta during the aftermath of the first death in the survival game. The map that was meant for Mutta allowed me to seize your daughter, and now, the time bomb meant for Furuya is here to put an end to it all…"

"No! Jennifer, you are wrong!"

Kenji's lips had not stirred. He and Jennifer broke from the moment and looked up in unison, from the direction of the voice—there, Nanba Mutta stood, leaning over the railing. He was breathing heavily, the puffing out of his chest plain to see.

"What do you want, Mutta?" Snarled Jennifer. Behind the black lenses of her glasses, her eyes were likely narrowed in on the brother with the afro. "I have a time bomb strapped to me, and your friend is being held at gunpoint—what do you possibly think I'm wrong about?"

Mutta held up a single finger. "Only one thing!" He announced. "I overheard what you said about the Green Cards. This fits my understanding of what happened to me. I was given a Green Card that led me to searching behind a loose bathroom tile, only to find nothing behind it. The item was meant for me, and I now realize that it wasn't an arbitrary decision! JAXA chose our items, for a purpose!"

Jennifer's eyebrow raised. "What is your point?"

"Whoever wanted me to have the map knew that I was going to map out this survival game in my head, that I was going to pay attention to the details along the way," Mutta explained. "Whoever wanted Kenji to have the grenades suspected that he would eventually explode and make rash decisions with destructive consequences. So far, these two are right! I have reason to suspect, then, that the third one would be right, as well."

Mutta reached down and seized something in his hand; it was not until the handgun was aimed straight down that it was able to be identified. With an unreadable expression upon his face, Mutta fired a bullet straight down at Jennifer—a bullet that, remarkably missing Fuuka, pierced straight through the timer of the time bomb.

Kenji screamed, tears flowing, "No, no! Fuuka! No!"

He was holding himself, as though that would somehow protect him from the blast. He was on his knees, head buried toward the floor, waiting for the end. Instead of hearing the sound of an explosion, however, he heard the voice of Mutta hollering from above, "And if Furuya was to receive an explosive, then it would have to be suitable to him—something that appears fiery on the outside, but inside is harmless."

Jennifer's mouth hung open. Kenji, at this point, rose to his feet. He swayed from side to side, trying to stand straight, but finding it impossible. The curl that was suspended from his hairline was now coming apart, splitting into several strands. He was now breathing heavy, emotional breaths.

"Mu-kun," he whispered. "You really did mean it, when you said you'd be here when it mattered…" Tears continued to form in Kenji's eyes, but instead of coming down in streams, they heavily dropped as individual tears now.

Jennifer's whole body tensed up. She released Fuuka in a fury, throwing the girl to the ground, shouting, "Mutta, just because your brother is an astronaut, you think you deserve it more than me?" Her grip on the handgun was faltering; it shook violently in her hand. "I have worked for NASA for years, watching from the sidelines as idiots like you constantly upstaged me! I was always trying to be the best, the most knowledgeable about space, but when I told people that I wanted to go to space, they laughed! They thought I was fit to give tours, but anything more than that was out of my range! And now, I was finally given a chance, and I have given it my all… This game might seem brutal to you, but it's fair to me! This is how it should be—a selection process that ignores sob stories and inspirational speeches, but instead focuses purely on skill and the wits of survival! And now, and now—now I am going to be upstaged by an imbecile like you, Mutta? That, that can't happen… Give me at least one victory, give me at least one claim of success—"

Mutta tightened his grip on the railing and called down, "Jennifer, I don't know you, but I'm sure you're a good person… You don't have to do things like this!"

There was a glint of light in Jennifer's glasses. "I know that!" She hissed. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to!" Jennifer then shot her gun, three times in succession, each bullet piercing through Kenji's chest. Makabe staggered back, his face betraying how truly he was not able to comprehend what had just happened, and then his body collapsed to the floor with a thick thud.

Mutta's head swirled. He found his body moving without the slightest command of his mind. He was thoughtless, merely an empty sense object. Serika was a short distance behind him, tears welling up in her eyes. If he had turned her head, he might have found her beautiful, even in despair, but this was not the time for that. He could hardly turn his head, for he had no will at all. His body conducted itself now.

Jennifer reached into her jacket and, with her free hand, procured a grenade and hurled it straight for the stairs Mutta had just begun to descend. The explosion that resulted demolished the stairs, causing them to come crashing into a pile at the floor; along with them, Mutta helplessly tumbled from above. Serika, however, was left motionless right before the part where they had broken off. She was thus severed from those down below, helplessly able to only watch and cry out Mutta's name.

He remained down in the pile, limbs sprawled out. His face was buried down in the remains, with only his afro sticking out, to make clear that his head was still attached to his shoulders. Serika kept calling his name, but he did not stir. Again. Kenji was laying, a distance away, only he was face-up, eyes wide open. Fuuka had kneeled by his side, and her whole tiny form was shaking. All her tears had been let out already; she had nothing left inside her to give.

"N-Nanba-san! Nanba-san!"

Jennifer turned her head from Kenji, to the form that was lying so helplessly in the remains of the staircase. She started to walk in that direction, with a confident stride. The grip on her handgun was now solid.

"Mu-chan!"

Between Jennifer and Number 11, a white blur descended to the floor. Jennifer was taken aback and paused immediately. In front of her now was a tall figure in an astronaut's suit, and in the figure's hand, a katana had been drawn.

The voice that came out of the helmet was distorted and unrecognizable, but its words were clear to all who in the room—"Jennifer, stay away from my big brother."