Battle Royale: An Alien Perspective

by The Passionate Admiral

An American scholar is spending his ninth-grade studying abroad in Japan. The day before the class graduates, the American and his 44 classmates wind up in the absolute worst scenario imaginable. When a "new rule" is introduced, the American is certain more than anyone else that he will not survive the ordeal. On HIATUS as of 2/17/14

38. Selfless Concern

Note: I meant to have this up during Thanksgiving Week, but I was down in Austin visiting my brother and his family. Now I've got finals to study for, too. Fortunately, I've managed to find a way to work on this while studying for my exams at the same time. This week will be unbelievably hectic, though; I'll have no chance of working on the next chapter during it. However, it's just eight more days until I begin my winter break, so I should have more time for writing in the ensuing three or four weeks.

8bitmatter, I'm relieved to know the last chapter was worth the wait. I hope this one was, as well. I'm confident that the interval between this one and the next one won't be nearly as long. Yeah, the whole point of Yuriye catching a cold was meant primarily as a way to emphasize how seriously Kenzou is taking any possible threat in the Program. Another excellent way to demonstrate his usefulness as a medic, as well. Friends with benefits is sort of the idea. I have explicitly stated that Yuuga and Yuriye's friendship is non-sexual, but they do acknowledge each over's physical attraction. I'm IMMEASURABLY glad to know that you were so fascinated by the "multi-verse" layout of this story, if that's the appropriate label for it. One thing I've wanted to highlight on since the beginning of this story is indeed how EVERY decision made by the contestants is meaningful and can even open up a new storyline. That was the basis for the first half of the conversation between Kenzou and Yuuga. The second half – where they criticize each other for their actions back at the river – was meant to capitalize on how they have stilled retained some sense of what is right and wrong, and how their capacity to judge can conflict with that sense at times. I know what you mean; I delighted in drafting that last section between Genji and Eiko, as well. The idea of antagonists of opposite genders bonding with each other on a personal level is something I've always found to be strangely absorbing. Sort of like Bonnie and Clyde. Riyeko has her reasons for waiting until a certain time to leave Wakana's mansion. That will be discussed in further detail in her next section. Getting back to Genji and Eiko, you have an excellent interpretation of their conversation. Genji may just be using Eiko, but he hasn't really done anything to deceive her. That strongly entails that he may actually like her on a more intimate level. We shall see. I also find it amusing how the names of some of your Japanese friends remind you of some of the characters in this story. By the way, as soon as I'm done with my finals, I'll read the next chapter of your story. As for Akiyo… believe it or not, his specialty is in history and cultural refinement. That's where he got his interest in Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers from (which, as you may recall, in turn eventually made him into the pervert he is, albeit indirectly). Had he graduated from Keio University, he probably would have gotten a job as museum curator. But his museum may have been shut down after an overwhelming number of sexual harassment lawsuits were filed by both the customers and the staff alike, heh heh heh…

Fire, thank you for taking the time to read this story, my friend. I'm pleased to know you have enjoyed it so far. I understand that Blaine isn't really all that interesting; I'm attempting to give him a little more personality in this story. To be honest, I never really intended him to be the most intriguing character. Main character, yes; most likeable character, no. Glad to know that Chiaki and Eiko are your favorites; they're two of mine as well. Trust me, Akiyo will be dealt with in time. He's one character I'm NOT particularly proud of or fond of. Hope you continue to enjoy reading and reviewing this story!

Now, without any more hindrances, we shall venture forth…

As any persistent individual could tell you, failure is never an option. No one in Class 3-A believed that better than Osamu Sano (Boy #9). He had been raised to think that there was no such thing as putting too much effort into anything, as long as the ultimate objective was meaningful and worth working for.

Osamu was never one to waste energy on what he deemed "pointless ambitions." During elementary school, most of his friends went through a phase when they had aspirations to become a famous performer, a powerful politician, or a wealthy entrepreneur after their compulsory education was over. Osamu, however, had a much more practical interpretation of the future. He found it reasonable to assume that regardless of what goals his peers had, the vast majority of them might actually end up working behind a desk, in a field, or on a pension. He also realized there was a chance his own future would turn out that way.

Needless to say, Osamu was hugely dissatisfied with the idea that his life would ultimately lead him nowhere. He had an enduring desire to somehow make a name for himself. He certainly had ample qualifications to do so. He was quite intelligent, he had excellent judgment, and he was a natural leader. His admission into the prestigious Keio University was one aspect that distinguished him from the "dreamers." It was a sign that he was destined for something better than a mere pedestrian job, and it further improved his drive to succeed in life.

However, before he even started junior high school, Osamu had been aware of the fact that as long as the government was overseeing him, it would be difficult to attain any particularly auspicious objective. He and his equally-ambitious friend Gakuto Yamashita had tried to cultivate a way around this ever-present obstacle.

After envisioning and subsequently dismissing several ill-conceived ideas, Gakuto proposed forming a gang and getting involved in the criminal underground. He expected Osamu to be at least partially skeptical at first. Quite the contrary; he took an instant liking to this suggestion. He saw this as the perfect way for them to create a reputation for themselves whilst avoiding any inconveniences from the government altogether.

Building up their numbers was barely a hassle. There was plenty of dexterity and potential to be found at Keio Shonan-Fujisawa Junior High. On the first day of school, Osamu and Gakuto studied their fellow classmates and pondered on who amongst them would make the most ideal recruits. Whenever they decided to approach one of their prospects, they started out by passing subtle hints. Once they were confident that the person would have no qualms with conducting crime, they became more direct and presented the offer to join. Within a month, their group had expanded from two members to six.

These six individuals had accomplished more over the past three years than the local Yakuza typically did in five. Their bond was much firmer by comparison, as well. This proved to be a huge asset on their part, as their ability to cooperate and treat each other with respect allowed them to successfully carry out the vast majority of their activities. On occasion, one of their operations would fail dismally, but they made certain to correct their errors. Osamu could never tolerate insufficient results.

Unfortunately, there was no way for him to fix the mistakes that had been made in the Program. Back home, the group had been involved in multiple dangerous situations, but no harm had ever come to the six friends. They did not have nearly as much luck in a Battle Royale; since the start of the game, their numbers had dropped from six to three.

Osamu had managed to put aside his grief for Kazumitsu Hayashi and Kaminari Ishida, but he was nowhere near the end of his period of mourning for Reika Fujihara. After he killed Hina Tashima and returned to Reika, he had been devastated to discover she had passed on. He had spent a long time kneeling next to his late paramour. All the while, he had cradled her lifeless body in his arms, weeping into her shoulder. Typically, Osamu could be almost as stolid as Yuuga Suzuki, but like Yuuga, he had a breaking point. The Program had provoked one out of both of them. While Yuuga's was in rage, Osamu's was in despair.

However, Yuuga's bout had lasted less than a minute. This was partly because his best friend had been around, and her intervention had enabled him to snap out of his vehement frame of mind before his fury could consume him. After Reika was killed, there was no one left with Osamu. Thus, since there was no one around to comfort him or ease his misery, his interval of emotional disarray had gone on for over an hour. Every minute of it was just as sorrowful as the first.

One could speculate that so much grief would eventually degenerate Osamu's mind into hysteria. He himself certainly felt as though he was going mad. Thankfully, he managed to avoid entering a fugue state or slipping into insanity. Ninety minutes after Reika had died, his sobbing gradually began receding into light crying. Ten more minutes later, the tears had stopped flowing from his eyes altogether. Either his eyelids had nothing left to pour out, or Osamu had finally come to his senses.

Whatever the reason, he had ceased his lament. He continued holding Reika's now cold body in his arms. The shoulder sleeve of her jacket was soaked with his tears; some of them had seeped through the material and gotten the shoulder sleeve of her blouse damp.

Osamu sniffled deeply, rubbed his bloodshot eyes, and gazed at Reika's stiff face. While her front was riddled with bullets and her back was lying on a bed of broken glass, her head had been entirely undamaged. In a peculiar way, Osamu thought she was still distinctively beautiful. The most gorgeous girl in all of Keio Shonan-Fujisawa Junior High was no longer breathing, but she had retained her splendor even in death.

While Osamu was angered by the deaths of most of his classmates, he was downright outraged by Reika's. Not only because they had lost their virginity to each other just a few hours earlier, but also because beauty such as hers was a bona fide rarity.

On the day she was born, Reika's parents thought of her as the most beautiful baby of all-time. Of course, one would expect anyone's parents to have this view at first. However, the doctor and the midwife who assisted him had also regarded Reika as the most beautiful infant they had ever delivered. This was the very first recognition Reika received for her radiant appearance. Over the next fifteen years, she would receive much more of it. Little girls are often told by their family, friends, family of their friends, and friends of their family about how "pretty" they are as they grow up. While most of them are being sincere, some of them may just say it to increase the girls' self-esteem. Reika was frequently given this compliment by family, friends, family of friends, friends of family, and even complete strangers on occasion, and all of them genuinely meant what they said.

When she began junior high, she quickly became popular in the student body. There were always boys marveling over her appearance and girls wondering what her secret was. Some of her more jealous female classmates had suggested that part of her physique may have been "artificial." All of them were quite wrong. Reika had never gotten liposuction or plastic surgery. She hardly ever used makeup, as well. She was just a natural beauty. Some of her friends remarked that she had "the face that launched a thousand ships," in reference to Helena, the mortal woman created by Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love and Desire, to appease Troy in Homer's The Iliad. A woman so attractive that the envy of her husbands' rivals was one of the factors that ultimately led them to lay siege to Troy.

Reika's fair façade and figure was not only known by the citizens of Fujisawa. Like several of her peers, she had her own blog on the internet. She had included many pictures of herself in her blog, and it was open to the public. It normally got over a thousand hits a week, and some of them must have been high-ranking socialites. In the past year, she had been contacted by three different modeling agencies across Japan, along with two in Europe and one in America. Although she was only fifteen, the agencies could tell that Reika was a person with all the qualities they looked for in an ideal model. She had poise, elegance, confidence, and grandeur. She actually considered accepting one of the offers, but she wanted to discuss her options with her family and friends before she made any decisions.

Reika's faultless complexion was not her only advantage, however. She was also cunning and bright, as well as shrewd, compassionate, and supportive. Her admission in Keio University was evidence of her intellect. She also had a bit of a desire for rebellion, and she had a talent for using her face and body as a means of manipulating people. These two characteristics encouraged Osamu to invite her into their gang. She questioned their intentions at first, but when she was certain that their motives for approaching her were not based on sex, she consented to join them.

At the time, Osamu did acknowledge Reika's impeccable appearance, but he did not feel any particular attraction towards her. Now that they had opened up to each other, he absolutely adored her. That was why her abrupt death had hit him so much harder than Kazumitsu's and Kaminari's. In Osamu's mind, Reika was the type of person who only comes around once in a lifetime; one who was crafted flawlessly into existence. In actuality, the full profile of her beauty cannot be appropriately depicted in words. Even if he survived the Program, Osamu doubted he would ever meet a woman remotely as gorgeous as Reika.

Interestingly, the thing he most appreciated about Reika was not her guise, but her witty and sensible personality. That was one quality he loved about her, and Osamu was certain no other woman could ever emulate it. He would deeply miss it, almost as much as he would miss Reika. On that note, he still could not grasp the notion that she was permanently out of his life.

After he stopped sobbing, Osamu still felt a profound yearning to remain close by Reika's body. However, even in the midst of all this emotional turmoil, he had retained a trace amount of common sense and rational judgment. Although he was overcome with despair, he reminded himself that the Program was still going on, and that much work remained to be done. For one thing, Toshirou and Gakuto were somewhere out in the city. Osamu remembered he had proposed that they meet back at the carpentry shop around midnight. He quickly got out his watch and found it was close to two o'clock. He was both annoyed and surprised by this discovery. He was annoyed because it meant he was two hours overdue for the deadline, and he was surprised because this indicated that Reika had been dead for less than two hours. He felt as though she had been gone for a lot longer than that.

Osamu took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he quietly uttered "I gotta keep a clear head. Reika's dead, but as horrible as that is, it shouldn't overshadow the fact that I'm alive. I can't lose my mind now; not when I've made it this far. Not when Toshirou and Gakuto are still active. I need to move on. For them."

As much as Osamu wanted to stay by Reika, he realized that he would accomplish nothing by doing so. At least nothing beneficial or productive. After all, the last thing he and his remaining allies needed was for him to become unstable. He needed to find a distraction to prevent Reika's death from plaguing his conscience and to avoid returning to a state of desolation. He decided that in order to manage this, he would have to somehow keep himself busy.

He was definitely not ready to completely leave Reika behind just yet, but he was willing to move a certain distance from her body. It also occurred to him that since he had not returned to the carpentry shop, Toshirou and Gakuto might not have gotten there either. Even if they had arrived there, they would know where to find him and Reika. With all this in mind, Osamu chose to pass the time by carrying out various tasks around the mall. That way he could remain in the vicinity with Reika and be efficient at the same time.

Thus, through sheer force of will, Osamu managed to pry himself away from Reika's body. Once he was separated from her, he supposed that it might be easier for him to focus if he did not disturb, move, or approach Reika again unless it was absolutely necessary. In fact, it probably would have been for the best if her body was not even visible. Since he was unwilling to drag or carry her from her current spot, his only other alternative was to cover her up. Osamu labeled this as his first task.

He quickly developed an uncomplicated strategy to achieve it. Osamu swiftly made his way back to the furniture store and acquired a bag of fresh white bed sheets. When he returned to Reika, he opened the bag, removed the sheets, completely unfolded them, and spread them out over his late accomplice one at a time. After all three of the sheets were draped over Reika, Osamu took a moment to bow his head in respect for her.

Once that moment was over, Osamu contemplated what to do next. Then he recalled that at this time, he was only carrying his Swiss army knife. While there was no denying that his knife was single-handedly responsible for saving him from the same fate as Reika, he was certain there were still plenty of threats to be found in the game. Threats deadlier and more menacing than Hina Tashima. If so, than his knife would be insufficient to defend him from incurring their wrath.

So Osamu made arming himself with more proficient weapons his next directive. He was actually able to devise and settle this one on the spot. As it turned out, Hina had dropped her handgun on the ground outside the joke shop when Osamu stabbed her in the palm. He simply reached down and picked the gun up. As he stood back up, he noticed that Reika's pistol was lying about a foot away from the nearest side of the bed sheet. He considered retrieving it, but he debated as to whether or not taking along Reika's weapon might end up impairing his judgment somehow. Ultimately, he decided that he was needlessly worrying about his psychological well-being. After all, while the pistol would be a constant reminder of its owner, it was in pristine condition and it had not been fired yet. Also, Osamu would have hated to waste resources; so he approached the firearm and collected it off the ground.

Now Osamu was well-armed. He carried the handgun in the right side of his belt, the pistol in the right side of his belt, and his Swiss army knife up his sleeve. This way, all of them would be easily accessible at all times. No one would catch him off his guard or unarmed.

This brought him to form his next objective. He was not entirely certain how Hina had gotten inside the mall. While he found it reasonable to assume she had used the same entrance as him and Reika, he could not ignore the possibility that Hina may have entered through another orifice. He wanted to ensure that there were no breaches in the foundation's layout, so he planned to go around the mall and methodically inspect each window and door.

He was aware that this task could have taken him hours to accomplish, but after what he had just been through, he believed he had ample cause to deem it an indispensable precaution. So after he reclaimed his supply pack and backpack from the furniture store, he navigated his way to the nearest stairwell and proceeded down to the first floor.

As he travelled to the west end of the mall, he extracted a notepad and pencil from his backpack. In addition to conducting a thorough search of the foundation's infrastructure, Osamu wanted to record the condition of all the possible entrances. If any of them appeared to be insecure or loose, he labeled them as weak spots and made a note to consider reinforcing them later on. If they were sealed off and locked up tight, he categorized them as safeguarded. The majority of the entrances received the latter marker. But he discovered that several doors and windows in various shops had been unlocked, and the window in the frozen yogurt parlor was slightly ajar.

After verifying that an opening was secure, Osamu also jotted down its location so that he would know where to find it. He also did this as a means to ensure that he would not come back to it. He was in a very large mall, and since Osamu had so much ground to cover and a relatively limited amount of time to do his work, he wanted to prevent examining any entrances he had already inspected. He also made a note of which shops had alarms and of those, which were active.

It took him about an hour and three-quarters to survey the entire first floor. But because there were far few entry points on the second, third, and fourth floors, he was able to overview each of them in twenty minutes apiece. The cumulative total amount of time he spent scrutinizing the safety of the mall was approximately two and three-quarter hours. When Osamu was finally finished, he declared that the mall would indeed make an ideal fortress for him and his allies, albeit it would be a massive fortress. After pronouncing this verdict, he checked his watch. It was about 4:50; the morning announcements would be in a little more than an hour.

He wondered what else he could do to keep himself occupied. Then he realized there was a crucial detail in the original escape plan that he and Reika had neglected. Even if they successfully shattered the window in the clothing department, shoved the mattresses out to form a stable pile, and landed on them safely from a forty-foot fall, they would not entirely know what they could be up against once they were outside the city. For all they knew, the army could have patrols miles in the distance as a secondary precaution.

Osamu felt it ideal to do a little investigating to determine if this was in fact a legitimate concern. He was compelled to think he would have a better view of the county's outskirts if he was on higher ground, so he decided to go up to the roof of the mall.

In order to see across a vast distance, he knew he would need a little aid. So he acquired a pair of binoculars from an ocular kiosk on the second floor. Then he headed toward the nearest stairwell. On the way, he passed by Hina Tashima's body.

Hina had never been regarded as one of the "pretty" girls. Few boys had ever looked her way, and those who did notice her thought she appeared more attractive with her glasses on than without. Now her glasses were etched into her face. Or what was left of it, if it could be regarded as a face.

The acid had stopped dissolving her facial features hours earlier, but the remainder of her head was totally unrecognizable. Seeing it in its current deformed state made Osamu feel extremely satisfied. After all, Hina had been responsible for his prolonged episode of grief from earlier. However, Osamu no longer harbored any major ill will towards her; what would be the point of holding a grudge against a corpse? But he knew full well that the individuals who allowed Hina to commit that murder were still around. Those were the people he chose to vent his current anger towards.

"I can get proper revenge at the end of all of this," Osamu whispered to himself. Whether he was attempting to reassure himself or convince himself of this statement, I do not know. Truthfully, Osamu was not sure of it himself. He just gazed at Hina's body as he passed her and muttered "In the meantime, you can rot in hell, you worthless, lowlife piece of shit. Furutani and the soldiers will be along shortly."

That was the last acknowledgement he gave to Hina. After that, he looked away, approached the nearest stairwell, and ascended up to the roof. The door at the top of the staircase was sealed off, but he managed to use his Swiss army knife to pick the lock. Once the latch was undone, Osamu pushed the door open and walked out onto the roof.

Most of the surface of the roof was flat and bare. However, there were some supplies sheds, ventilation units, and other apparatuses that had been built on certain spots. Cameras and loudspeakers had been installed on several of them. Osamu noticed them straightaway. Although he knew this meant the instructors would still be watching him, he did not let this fact bother him.

There were no railings or barriers around the edges of the roof, meaning there was nothing to prevent a person from jumping over the side. Osamu approached the northern end of the roof and gazed straight down. While it was easily a clear drop to the other side of the fence, there was over eighty feet between his position and the ground. The probability of remaining completely unscathed from such a jump was very small, even with mattresses to break the fall.

"Guess we'll still be plummeting from the second floor," Osamu observed. He was totally alright with this verdict, as it was part of the initial plan.

He spent the next half-hour pacing around the roof of the mall and surveying the foundation's surroundings. It was after five o'clock; the daylight would be returning to the city very soon. Some sunshine was already peeking over the horizon. There was not much, but there was enough so that Osamu was able to use it to see clearly in the distance. He used his binoculars to make out the area beyond the city limits. He spotted a couple mountains about twelve miles away. There was nothing but grassy terrain, some clusters of trees, and a couple roads between those mountains and the city's northern border. However, there did not appear to be any army patrols in all that space. So while anyone crossing that mostly-naked land would be out in the open, they would not be in danger of being apprehended by the authorities. Osamu was content with this.

When he was finished studying the outlying regions, he redirected his attention to closer environs. He paid especial attentiveness to the sentries along the fences. This was the first time he had an opportunity to study the soldiers standing guard, and he made certain not to waste it. He remembered that Furutani had stated that the sentinels had been in place ever since the start of the Program. He wondered if they had rotated, or if they were the same units from the previous day. Since there did not appear to be any soldiers outside the city other than the ones in the outposts, Osamu found it reasonable to assume the latter theory was correct. If it was, that would entail that they were just as vulnerable to exhaustion as Osamu and his classmates were. They would be able to exploit that to their advantage.

Osamu stood near the northwestern corner of the roof and concentrated on the closest outpost. It was over five hundred feet away, so he used his binoculars to focus on it better. There was only one soldier in the tower, well-armed and in full uniform. While he did seem to exhibit signs of fatigue, he may have been as alert and perceptive as ever. Osamu quickly noticed that the soldier appeared to be gazing his way. That implied that the soldier was watching him as closely as he was watching the soldier. Osamu was slightly nervous by this discovery, but he calmed himself by recalling that the soldiers had been given explicit orders not to fire on the students unless they were making a direct effort to escape. The soldier had his rifle at the ready, but he was not aiming it at Osamu. Because of this, the gang leader was confident he was not doing anything that would be regarded as cause for execution, so to speak. All the same, he made a note to proceed with care and cast an occasional glance at the watchman. If that soldier caught on to what he was doing, he would probably call in to Furutani and inquire if he should take action.

By the time Osamu concluded his inspection, it was 5:30. The sun was rising over the eastern apartment complex, and its rays had reached the tallest buildings in the city, including the mall. Osamu took a break to witness the sun's ascent from the east. He sighed and stated "Time sure does fly. At least I was able to use it to my advantage. I suppose I may as well take a break."

He removed his backpack and supply pack, dropped them to the ground, and sat down against them. Then he rubbed his temples with the palms of his hands and yawned loudly. A minute later, he gazed down at his notebook and looked over its contents. Altogether, he had written enough data in the past four hours to cover both sides of eleven sheets of paper. He muttered softly "Hopefully, the others will find this information useful."

The chief reason Osamu had taken so many notes was not so that he would have a record of helpful tips to reference in the future. Instead, it was because he planned to share them with Gakuto, Toshirou, and any allies they may have made. Whenever he rendezvoused with them, he aimed to pass his notebook on to them. However, while he wanted them to use his transcripts, he did not have any intention of accompanying them himself.

This may have seemed like a bizarre arrangement, but there was some very logical reasoning behind Osamu's resolution.

When he and his five companions first formed their gang, they were told to speak with Kaito Oshiro, the head of the Yakuza in the Kanagawa Prefecture. In order for anyone to partake in the world of crime, they would be required to receive permission from the most prominent mafia boss in the prefecture of their hometown. Anyone who conducted criminal activity without proper authorization would have been seen as threats to official gangs, and they would have been treated as such.

Kaito Oshiro was a very cautious and selective mafia boss. No one ever came to visit him unless he approved them beforehand. Of all the individuals who came to him for his blessing, very few had been summoned by him directly. The vast majority had been referenced to him by his aides before he even heard of them. Osamu and his friends were one such example. They had been recommended to Oshiro by his Underboss Naoaki Tanabe, and Tanabe had come to know them through casual interaction.

Oshiro was normally quite hesitant about allowing children into the underground, especially when they were teenagers just starting junior high school. They did not even have an adult to supervise and guide them. However, Tanabe assured his Boss that Osamu and the others had ample qualifications. He used their acceptance into Keio University and their natural talents in various fields as evidence. Eventually, he managed to convince Oshiro to give them a chance.

Sure enough, Oshiro was quite impressed from his first meeting with Osamu's gang. The six junior high school students had plenty to bring to the table, and they all had potential to rise up. However, he was not one to judge a person's ability solely on their appearance. He explained to them that before he could consider giving them his permission, they would have to prove themselves. So he gave them four assignments, each one a different job. One was smuggling, one was robbery, one was assault, and one was espionage. While he deemed the jobs simple in nature, he was certain they would need some assistance along the way. Since he had vouched for them, Tanabe was assigned to escort and guide Osamu's group throughout their tasks.

The smuggling job involved transporting a shipment of weapons into Fujisawa. The source of the weapons was unknown, and Osamu and his friends saw no need to ask about their origin, but it was more than a little likely that the firearms came from one of the factories of Genji Nishihara's father. Getting them into Fujisawa was quite easy once they got past the peace officers at the entrance of the city.

The robbery job was composed of an old-fashioned holdup. However, rather than striking an ordinary low-risk objective like a bank or a jewelry store, their target was a technology center. After casually walking through the front door, they drew guns on the staff and forced them to access the safe in the back of the room. All they stole was a single box of microchips. Very valuable microchips. This chips would be used by the Yakuza to operate their vehicles, computers, and tools. That way, there would be no risk of tracing any of the aforementioned merchandise back to the Yakuza if they were ever attained by the authorities. Tanabe and the teenagers managed to accomplish this goal without harming a hair on anyone's head. That was fortunate for them; Tanabe's weapon was the only one that had been loaded. Osamu and the others had been asked to wield empty firearms for two reasons. Tanabe did not want to risk one of them losing control and letting off rounds at their hostages, and in case the robbery was botched and they were caught, the teenagers would not be charged with armed robbery.

The assault job required them to confront a group of twenty-somethings who had been foolish enough to operate in the black market without Oshiro's consent. This was by far the simplest task. Even though the unlicensed individuals were larger and more mature, the students from Keio Shonan-Fujisawa Junior High were far better at tactics and skirmishing. After just one "meeting" with Osamu and his colleagues, the unauthorized group pulled their presence out of the black market and swore never to reenter it without an express sanction from Oshiro.

These first three jobs had been carried out without any huge difficulties. Unfortunately, the last one did not go as well.

Then again, the espionage job was the one that posed the largest likelihood of failure since the beginning. Oshiro had explained to Osamu's group that he was fairly certain there was a police officer working undercover somewhere in his organization. To verify his suspicions, he instructed the students to sneak into the local police headquarters. Their goal was to access the station's personnel archives, look up the non-official cover list, make a copy of it, and bring it to him so that he could learn the identity of the mole.

This job may have seemed like too much for junior high students, even ones enrolled at Keio University. However, Oshiro wanted absolute confirmation that Osamu's group was as dexterous and resourceful as Tanabe claimed them to be. So he entrusted them with getting the job done.

Breaking and entering was effortless enough for them. After Kazumitsu disabled the guard at the back entrance, Toshirou sliced into the defense grid and programmed it to give them admittance into the building. Kaminari had managed to acquire some blueprints of the building's layout; she led them to the archive chambers. To avoid detection, they limited their movements to areas covered in shadow. A few minutes earlier, Reika had uploaded a program into the security mainframe that would cause the cameras to recycle footage from before the group entered the building. This allowed them unrestricted movement throughout the darkened parts of the station. Once they arrived at their destination, Gakuto went to work downloading a copy of the non-official cover list onto a portable memory device. Tanabe had provided him with the correct authorization codes; all he had to do was duplicate the information and then erase any entry of it being accessed. All of this had been accomplished under Osamu's firm leadership.

Everything had gone so smoothly up until this point. It was not until after they had logged off the supercomputer that something went terribly wrong.

By the time the group began making their way out the building, the technicians in the observation room had noticed a few glitches in the surveillance system. They dug a little deeper and soon realized that someone had hacked in less than twenty minutes beforehand. Upon this discovery, they triggered the alarm. As it turned out, Toshirou, Reika, and Gakuto had not hidden their tracks as thoroughly as they believed.

The seven companions took the alert as a sign that their cover had been compromised. So they rushed to the back entrance as fast as their legs would allow. But right when they reached it, they encountered two cops. Kazumitsu and Tanabe quickly engaged the officers in hand-to-hand combat. The latter ordered the others to run to the car and assured them that they would be along shortly.

Reluctantly, Osamu complied with this command. They had parked their car about a block down the road. Toshirou had driven them there, so he climbed into the front seat. Osamu rode shotgun, and Gakuto, Reika, and Kaminari piled into the backseat. Osamu had Toshirou start the engine so that they would be able to leave as soon as the others returned.

About thirty seconds later, they heard a gunshot resonate around the area. Its point of origin could have only been the police station. But for this mission, none of them – not even Tanabe – had brandished a gun. That meant one of the policemen must have drawn his weapon.

About a minute later, Kazumitsu turned around the corner of the block and sprinted towards the car. He was holding a large figure in his arms. As he got closer, his friends realized it was Tanabe. The Yakuza member was clutching a part of his chest intently; he had been shot just above the abdomen.

When he reached the car, Kazumitsu opened the trunk, placed Tanabe inside, climbed in after, shut the door behind him, and shouted "Get us the hell out of here!"

That was all the encouragement Toshirou needed to kick the car into gear. There was the sound of a motor revving, followed immediately by the sound of rubber treading against asphalt, and then the area was totally silent. The car had vanished just fifteen seconds after Toshirou reacted. Not two minutes later, the police were all over the scene.

The group was uncertain about what to do next. Reika, Kazumitsu, and Gakuto felt obligated to take Tanabe to a hospital, but Kaminari, Toshirou, and Osamu were concerned that the doctors would detain them and phone the police once they discovered that Tanabe's injury was a gunshot wound. In the end, they decided to just bring him back to Oshiro and hope that he would be able to fix this problem.

Oshiro was surprised and disappointed when he discovered that his Underboss was gravely wounded. However, he was pleased to see that they had brought him the non-official cover list. Once he received it from them, he congratulated the students on their work. Then he gave the list to his top intelligence operatives and had them examine the files to locate the mole. After that, he ordered his privately-employed surgeon to operate on Tanabe. Once everything was being handled, Oshiro offered for the six teenagers to spend the night. They respectfully declined, saying that they had to get back to their houses in Fujisawa before their parents started worrying. Oshiro told them that he understood, but that he wanted them to report back to him first thing in the morning.

The six teenagers expected the matter of the mole and Tanabe's gunshot wound to be resolved by the time they next spoke with Oshiro. As it turned out, they had been resolved, but neither in the way they had hoped for. When they met with Oshiro, the Yakuza Boss informed the students that he had two pieces of very bad news.

First, he revealed that their act of espionage had been in vain. His intelligence operatives had gone over the non-official cover list four times over the night, but not one of the policemen on it was assigned to infiltrate Oshiro's organization. As it turned out, there was no mole in the local Yakuza. In fact, nowhere in the Kanagawa Prefecture was there a cop working undercover in the Yakuza. Osamu hypothesized that perhaps they had only managed to extract a part of the non-official cover list and that the undercover operative was still on it, but Oshiro grimly clarified to him that that was not possible.

The students were dismayed by this revelation, but the second bit of bad news hit them much harder. When asked what it was, Oshiro snapped his fingers. In response, one of his advisors rolled a metal cart into the room. On the cart was a human-shaped lump covered by a white sheet. The advisor moved the cart between Oshiro's desk and Osamu.

"Take a look," Oshiro proposed, gesturing to the left end of the cart.

Osamu slowly brought his hand to this side of the cart, took ahold of part of the sheet, and pulled it down. Next thing he knew, he was gazing directly into the wide-open lifeless eyes of Naoaki Tanabe. Truthfully, Osamu was not greatly surprised that Tanabe had died, but that did not make seeing his corpse any easier. He backed away from the cart and clamped his hand over his mouth as if he was suppressing the urge to vomit.

"He died this morning, about two hours before you all arrived," Oshiro elucidated, "We managed to repair most of the preliminary damage. But it turns out the bullet had grazed a critical artery which my surgeon had overlooked. It was not until after we sewed him back up and he regained consciousness that the artery collapsed. He died moments after that happened."

"I'm so sorry," Osamu whispered sincerely yet hauntingly, "This is all my fault. If I'd only been more careful, he would still be alive."

Osamu's five friends spent the next minute trying to comfort their leader and to convince him that he was not the only one to blame. They each claimed that they should divvy some of the fault, and that their share of it was as large as his.

Once they were finished, Osamu turned to face Oshiro and stated "I suppose that after this disaster, you wish for us to leave and never come back. We would completely understand it if you did decide to forbid us from joining the underground."

There was tense and unpleasant silence for about a minute after this. Then Oshiro sat up in his chair and remarked "While I am saddened to have lost my Underboss and that he virtually died for nothing, the six of you were at least able to show me that you are capable of accomplishing great things through your adroitness and association. However, while you have sufficient merits and initiative, you must not allow this sort of incident to relapse. After all, Tanabe was the one who vouched for you, and with that in mind, you must realize that if you did blunder last night, your failure cost him his life. Do not ever forget that."

"We shall not, sir," Osamu affirmed to the Yakuza Boss.

"I would like to believe that," Oshiro thought aloud. He paused for a moment, and then he announced "I wish to speak to Osamu alone for a few moments."

Obediently, the other five students and Oshiro's bodyguards filed out of the room, closing the door behind them. When it was just Osamu, Oshiro, and Tanabe's body, the Yakuza Boss declared "Osamu, there is something very important that you must learn from Tanabe's death."

"What might that be, sir?" Osamu enquired.

"If you fully intend to develop a reputation through a life of crime, loss is something you must be prepared to face at every turn," Oshiro expounded, pointing at Tanabe's remains, "Because in this way of life, this is the price of failure. It could come about at any time and catch you completely off-guard. You must also realize that the greatest disadvantage to working against the government is denying yourself and your associates the protection of the government as well. I hope you realize the full degree to which this generalization applies. You must acknowledge this if you intend to make a living from criminal activities. Can you bring yourself to accept it?"

Osamu nodded his head firmly and said confidently "I can, sir. On that, you have my solemn vow."

Oshiro grinned, stood up from his chair, held his hand out to Osamu, and, as they shook hands, told him "Then on behalf of the Yakuza and the other mobster syndicates in this country, I officially welcome you into the criminal underground."

That was the last time Osamu and any of his friends ever saw Oshiro. While they were not on any real benevolent or malevolent terms with the Yakuza, they occasionally clashed with them over certain business dealings.

Oshiro's sermon had left a huge impact on Osamu. However, at this time, he believed he may have misunderstood Oshiro. Originally, he had just assumed that Oshiro meant that anyone who worked beneath the law could be killed at any time. Of course, he had been aware of this possibility since the day he had decided to form a gang. He deemed the benefits to be worth the risks of it.

It was only now that he fully comprehended the real message behind Oshiro's words. Oshiro had been gesturing to Tanabe's body throughout the duration of his lecture. While he was talking about death, he never explicitly referred to the idea of himself dying. He had put great emphasis on the concept of his own people undergoing that terrible outcome. Essentially, Oshiro was telling Osamu that if he screwed up, he would not be the one who suffered the worst. Instead, his companions would be the true victims of this fate. In other words, any mishaps made under his leadership would be responsible for all the pain and strife his friends went through. To Osamu, that was even worse than experiencing the agony himself. While the group had rarely gotten in trouble back home, their luck did not fare nearly so well in the Program.

To Osamu's horror, his worst nightmares were starting to become reality. Certainly, Kazumitsu and Kaminari had voluntarily decided to go on a gasoline run, but Osamu had approved their choice to do so. Since they never came back alive from that errand, he felt strongly responsible for whatever had happened to them.

Worse yet, there was the matter with his late paramour. He recalled that Reika had assured Osamu that she would be alright searching the mall by herself. He had initially opposed this idea and offered to join her, and she responded by asserting she would be fine. He felt he should have insisted to accompany her. If they had gone out together, he may have been able to stop Hina from attacking her. But he did not. Instead, he was foolish enough to believe no dangers were lurking inside the mall. Now Reika was gone because of his error in judgment.

As he sat on the roof, he wondered what Gakuto and Toshirou were up to. Whatever it was, he prayed that they were unharmed. He was beginning to regret the decision he had made to split them up the previous day. If they had all stayed together, maybe their safety in numbers would have kept them all alive and well.

Back in Fujisawa, Osamu's gang had rarely failed under his command. But here in the Program, so much had gone wrong in the past eighteen hours. Three of his friends had been killed, and he had no clue as to where the surviving two may have been. If things continued this way, they could all be dead before the end of the day.

Osamu still blamed himself and himself alone for all the tragedy his gang had been through. He had no desire to hinder them any more than he already had. He wanted everything to go as smoothly as possible for the rest of them, and he was starting to believe that the best way for that to happen would be if they no longer relied on him to come up with their strategies.

Osamu realized then that there was only one surefire way that he could avoid failing the others. If he was no longer around, they would be totally free to make their own decisions and draw up their own plans.

His plan to "no longer be around" was not as extreme as it may have sounded. While he was still in the midst of a depression, he had no intention of taking his own life. After all, Reika would have wanted him to keep going. Had he been the one to die, he would have wanted her to continue striving for survival as well. Plus, if he just committed suicide out of the blue, this friends may interpret it as a sign that he had lost all hope and resorted to the easy way out. If they became convinced he had lost hope, that might have impelled them to lose faith as well. Osamu had no desire to destroy their morale in that fashion.

All the same, Osamu wanted to take steps to ensure that he would not lead Toshirou, Gakuto, and all of their potential allies to their doom. So he had formulated a delicate plan for how to achieve this goal. Whenever Gakuto and Toshirou rendezvoused with him, he would turn his notebook over to them and apprise them on everything he had studied over the past few hours. Then they would go their separate ways. While they returned their attention to the escape plan, he would find another indirect way to contribute to their efforts.

He predicted that they would openly oppose this idea at first, but he was confident that he would somehow be able to convince them that this arrangement would be for the best. He would not ask them to abandon him, nor did he plan to write them off. He just wanted to ensure that no more of his choices would endanger them.

"After all, what can I possibly do to redeem myself?" he said to himself.

Immediately after he made his comment, he heard a gunshot. Osamu promptly snapped to attention, jumped to his feet, and reached for the pistol in his belt. He did not draw it, but he kept one hand on the handle. He was ready to arm himself at a moment's notice.

After confirming that he was still alone, Osamu redirected his attention to the source of the commotion. It sounded as though it originated from somewhere to the west of the mall. He had no idea what sort of firearm had made that noise, but he was compelled to believe it had been discharged in close proximity.

Osamu approached the western ledge of the roof and gazed into the distance. While he could not see anyone in the streets or on the buildings, something in the nearest outpost caught his eye. The soldier appeared to be moving about erratically. Osamu wondered if he had been the one who fired the shot. So he raised his binoculars, pointed them at the outpost, and peered into them. Then he made an astounding discovery.

The soldier at the outpost was frantically staggering back and forth. He had dropped his rifle and he was gripping his throat with both of his hands. Osamu looked a little closer and noticed that there appeared to be a small trail of red flowing down the soldier's neck. The sun had barely risen and the outpost was over five hundred feet away, but Osamu quickly realized what was wrong with the soldier. He had seen Naoaki Tanabe exhibit those same conditions during the botched espionage job nearly three years ago.

The soldier had been shot in the neck. He was losing blood at a rapid pace. Based on the rate of his blood loss, he would be dead in less than three minutes. Sooner if he could not manage to catch his breath.

Osamu could only watch as the soldier struggled desperately to cling on to his life. One would have thought Osamu would be deeply pleased to see one of the class's captors perish in such anguish. Truthfully, Osamu was elated, but he was apprehensive to a much larger degree. He was certain that the soldier's misery was the result of the handiwork of one of his classmates. However, he could not imagine who among them could have had the audacity to gun down one of the guards.

A couple minutes later, the soldier stopped squirming and collapsed onto his back. Osamu transferred his attention to the area south of the outpost. He found it reasonable to assume that whoever killed the soldier must have been in the immediate area or close to it. At first glance, he could not spot anything or anyone moving throughout the city.

About five minutes later, he saw a figure moving to the west. Its back was turned to him, but he could tell it was brandishing a huge rifle. Logically, he inferred that the figure must have been the guilty party. Now he just needed to uncover its identity. He assumed that if he remained focused on the figure long enough, it would eventually gaze over its shoulder and allow him to get a full view of its face.

Ten minutes later, the figure turned around entirely and inclined its head upward slightly. It was almost as if it was staring right back at Osamu. The real reason for it stopping was entirely unrelated to the gang leader, however. After concentrating on the individual's face for long enough, Osamu was able to determine who it was.

When he did, his pupils dilated in astonishment, he moved his head away from the binoculars, and he mumbled softly "Oh, my God. It's…"

…

Osamu was not the only person whose attention had been drawn to the slain watchman. Many of the soldiers at the school were currently very preoccupied with the matter of their murdered colleague.

Furutani had been in contact with the sentry when he had gotten shot. Osamu's activities had actually been the topic of their discussion.

"Any change in his behavior?" Furutani inquired.

"No, sir; it's been a while since he stopped moving about the mall," the sentry reported, "Right now, he's just sitting near the southwestern corner of the roof. As far as I can tell, all he's doing is overviewing his notes and musing."

"Has he noticed you?" asked Furutani.

"Yes, and he knows I've seen him," the soldier replied, "Do you want me to mediate?"

"No, as long as he doesn't try scaling the wall on the north side or anything similar, he's not posing any threat," Furutani responded, "But keep a close eye on him. Several hours ago, he was sobbing like a little bitch over the death of his one-night stand. Yet now he's strangely serene and levelheaded. That could be a sign of irregular behavior."

"If he tries anything extreme, I'll be certain to apprise you," the sentry assured his superior.

"Very well, but remember that he's not the only person out there," Furutani reminded him.

"Of course, sir," stated the watchman, "I've gone over his profile in the time he's been at the mall. According to it, while he may not be the most unpredictable contestant, he could be capable of becoming the deadliest. That is, if his reputation and his earlier kill is any-"

His dialogue was then interrupted by a gunshot. A split-second later, the sentinel felt as though a tiny metallic projectile had penetrated a spot on his neck. He dropped his communicator and his weapon, both his hands went up to his neck, and he lurched against the back wall of the platform he was on. The wall was only a meter high. If it was any shorter, he would have tumbled over it. Blood gradually started flowing from the spot the projectile had hit, and the soldier began frantically gasping for air.

The line on his communicator was still open. Furutani could clearly discern his rapid breathing over it. He uttered in surprise and apprehension into his own communicator "Lieutenant Tsukuda? Lieutenant Tsukuda, what's going on? Are you alright? Report!"

Several of the soldiers in the teacher's lounge stopped what they were doing and gazed over at their supervisor. Furutani continued to request an assessment from Lieutenant Tsukuda. The sentry gave them no discernable response; all they heard was the sound of his agitated respiration, which became progressively weaker over the next couple minutes. Finally, it stopped altogether.

Furutani stood frozen in his stance for almost a minute. In that short interval of tense silence, the soldiers somberly watched him and anxiously waited for his next orders. Ultimately, Furutani grimaced angrily, lowered his communicator, approached one of the soldiers monitoring the surveillance system, and commanded him "Bring up the camera along the center of the northwestern corner of A-7."

The soldier complied with this demand straightaway. After pressing a few keys, his console displayed the feed from the specific camera his boss had asked for. Lieutenant Tsukuda's outpost appeared onscreen, and the watchman was slumped motionlessly against the back wall. There was a black hole in his neck, and blood was steadily pouring out of it. The sentry's eyes were focused fixedly back at the camera.

"He's definitely dead, sir," the surveillance overseer declared.

"Who could have done that to him?" questioned another of the overseers.

"We'll most certainly find out," Furutani mumbled furiously through gritted teeth. He turned to another soldier in the room and asked him "Who's posted the nearest to Lieutenant Tsukuda?"

This soldier was the chief of security. He had been in charge of constructing the fences and outposts all around the city. He was also the officer who assigned all the guards to those outposts individually. He was seated in front of a map of the city. This map was much more detailed than the ones given to the students. There were dozens of labels on the borders of it which the security chief used to keep track of the exact position of each and every lookout. He gazed down at his diagram of the city, and then he informed his Boss "Lieutenant Nohara is just a few hundred feet to the west."

Furutani lifted his communicator back up to his mouth and spoke into it "Lieutenant Nohara, this is Instructor Furutani. Come in, please."

A voice on the other line promptly responded with "Lieutenant Nohara here, sir. Is everything in order?"

"Not quite…" Furutani tentatively told him, "Lieutenant, have you been paying attention to all the activities on both sides of the fence in your sector?"

"Yes, as per your orders, sir," Nohara replied, "Is there a problem?"

"Have you seen any drifters on the city limits?" Furutani queried.

"No, I have not," Nohara expounded, "Every couple hours or so, I've seen one of the contestants in the distance. However, the landscape beyond the city limit has been entirely deserted since the game began. From what I've observed, no one has approached the external side of the fence. Do you have reason to believe we may have a wanderer?"

"I admit that could be a possibility," Furutani stated, "But before we consider that, I must ask you a question. Did you happen to hear a gunshot about five minutes ago?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Nohara answered him.

"Do you have any clue as to its point of origin?" asked the instructor.

"Yes, it sounded very close by," Nohara recalled, "It was maybe one or two hundred meters away. I believe the direction it came from was the southeast. To be more precise, east-southeast."

Furutani was stunned to hear this piece of information. He muttered quietly "Are you telling me the gunshot was fired from within the city?"

"That is correct, sir," Nohara confirmed. He had noted the new tone of nervousness in his boss's speech, so he enquired "Why do you speak as though that unsettles you, sir?"

"Lieutenant Tsukuda was killed by the bullet from that gunshot," Furutani apprised the sentry.

Nohara sounded absolutely stunned to receive this bit of news. "What happened?"

"A few minutes ago, I was talking to him," Furutani explicated, "He was updating me on the status of one of the remaining contestants when gunfire interrupted him in the middle of the sentence. He died shortly after. There is no way he could have been hit by friendly fire, and based on what you've told me, we haven't had any unexpected visitors near the northern border of A-7. These facts would hugely limit our list of suspects."

"So he was taken out by one of the students?" Nohara assumed.

"It would seem so," Furutani acknowledged, "As of right now, that's the only possible explanation."

"Any idea who it may have been?" Nohara asked in interest.

"No, but I plan to conduct a full-scale investigation," Furutani assured him.

"Is there anything I can do to assist?" Nohara offered.

"For now, just keep a close eye on the surrounding area," Furutani ordered him, "If you see anyone passing through within a mile or so, report them in straightaway."

"It will be done," Nohara guaranteed his superior.

"Excellent, Instructor Furutani out," The supervisor lowered his communicator and stood still for a few seconds. Then he looked around at the soldiers assembled in the teacher's lounge and announced to them "Gentlemen, it would be an understatement to say we have a situation. One of our own has been brutally murdered. We must identify who pulled that trigger, or we may be looking at a repeat of the Battle Royales of 1979 and 2000. Now, our first priority should still be to the Program and ensuring that the rest of it plays out properly. But I want to put every available effort into locating Lieutenant Tsukuda's killer. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," the soldiers affirmed.

"Where should we begin?" asked one of the men at the security station.

"We start with the basics," Furutani answered. He walked over to the workstation that monitored the whereabouts of the collars and asked the men seated there "How many signals are currently in A-7?"

The men studied the grids on their computers, and then one of them proclaimed "We're detecting three: Boy #9, Girl #13, and Girl #19."

"I already know about them," said Furutani, "The latter two are dead, and the former hasn't moved four meters in the past twenty minutes. Are there any other signals?"

"No, sir," another of the observers notified him, "Those are the only three."

"Then move on to A-6," Furutani instructed them, "Is there anyone there?"

"Negative, that area's totally vacant," stated the first monitor, "Besides, don't forget that it's a danger zone."

"Well, what about the adjoining zones?" Furutani proposed.

"They're empty," the second monitor reported.

"All of them?" Furutani commented in surprise.

"Well, Boy #7 is in B-6, but he's been out of the game since yesterday evening," the observer expounded, "Girl #3 was in B-7 recently, but she moved into C-7 at least ten minutes before the gunshot was fired. Other than that, there is no one anywhere near Lieutenant Tsukuda's outpost."

"How can that be?" Furutani wondered in amazement.

"Perhaps he was shot by a weapon that is designed to cover a large distance," one of the guards speculated.

"That could be possible," one of the surveillance men concurred, "How many long-range firearms did we pass out this year?"

"There were two," the quartermaster disclosed, going over the armament manifest, "There was a Winchester rifle given to Boy #22 and a Zastava sniper rifle given to Boy #10. However, both of them were killed yesterday morning after that incident with loudspeakers."

"Have their weapons changed hands in the time since then?" queried one of the men at the station which monitored the contestants' life signs.

"No one's gone anywhere near the insurance skyscraper in the time since Boy #10 died," stated one of the men at a map hanging on the far wall which was used to document the activities of the contestants, "So the sniper rifle has not been picked up by anyone. Boy #20 is currently in possession of the Winchester. But he's nowhere near A-7."

Furutani sighed in annoyance and remarked "None of this adds up. Lieutenant Tsukuda must have been killed by one of the students, but everything we've found so far suggests that none of them could have been close enough to him to commit the crime. Are we chasing after a ghost or something?"

"That may very well be the case," one of the surveillance coordinators solemnly pronounced.

Furutani turned to this soldier and asked in confusion "What do you mean?"

"You better take a look at this, sir," was all the coordinator told him.

Furutani moved over to the surveillance station and focused on the screen. There was a male student standing on the ledge of a tall building with his back to the camera. The coordinator explained to his superior as he studied the screen "This is live footage from the roof of the mall in A-7. Ever since the gunshot was fired, Boy #9 has been tracking someone several hundred feet west of the foundation."

"Several hundred feet to the west?" repeated Furutani, "But that would place the individual somewhere along the center of the border between A-6 and A-7."

"Which is completely impossible," one of the monitors inferred, "There are no signals in that area."

"Then I suppose my eyes are deceiving me," the coordinator bluntly commented.

"Not unless mine are, too," Furutani casually agreed, "Not to mention Osamu Sano's."

He turned to another of the coordinators and ordered him "Display the cameras near the center of the border of A-6 and A-7 simultaneously."

"Which ones, sir?" requested the coordinator, activating the split screen effect.

"The ones aimed at the street that this 'apparition' is traversing through," Furutani clarified.

The coordinator nodded and went to work executing this command. However, when he brought up the specified cameras, all the feedback he received was a cross between indistinct imagery and static.

"What the hell?" he remarked in shock, pressing a few keys in attempt to remedy the sudden problem.

"What's going on?" asked Furutani in astonishment.

"Someone's been tempering with these cameras," the coordinator explicated, "The quality control feature has been widely adjusted."

"Are you certain they could not have just malfunctioned on their own?" Furutani suggested.

"Negative, each and every one of the cameras was inspected before and after installation," another of the coordinators informed him, "They would not have been mounted if they were liable to break down. No, someone has been messing with the surveillance system."

"I thought the cameras' settings could only be modified from these consoles," Furutani observed.

"That's definitely the fashion they were designed in," remarked a third coordinator, "Apparently, someone has found a way to access and amend the cameras on the border of A-6 and A-7."

"Why would they want to do that?" queried another of the guards.

"To cover up their getaway, perhaps?" Furutani hypothesized. Once he had the attention of all his men again, he stood up straight and added in "Gentlemen, I believe we just found Lieutenant Tsukuda's assassin. We still have yet to learn their identity, though."

"Who do you suppose this unlucky fool could be?" said the quartermaster.

"I haven't any leads," Furutani admitted, "But whoever it is, this person is definitely not foolish or unlucky. He or she cannot be regarded as an imbecile. We must be dealing with an architect."

"An architect?" asked one of the overseers.

"Think about everything we've seen so far," Furutani elucidated, "We have verified that the killer is there, but it took a tremendous amount of effort just to localize their position. We are still receiving eighteen active signals, so one of them must have found a way to manipulate the tracking chip in their collar. There's also the matter of the faulty cameras. No amateur technician could have sliced into those cameras. Obviously, the culprit must have accounted for every single hindrance and obstacle before he or she moved in on Lieutenant Tsukuda. Based on their movements, we wouldn't even be able to use the satellite to take a picture of their face. Thanks to these expertise, they've avoided getting caught."

Several of the soldiers whistled in amazement. One of the machinery operators pronounced "Whoever committed this crime must have been an individual who excels in both mechanical and electrical engineering."

"Knowing that may provide us a great deal of aid," the psychological evaluator observed. He had two stacks of 45 folders on the counter in front of him; each one contained a profile of a student in Class 3-A. There were 27 in the larger pile and 18 in the smaller pile. They were organized into the deceased students and the alive students respectively. He pulled the smaller pile closer, gazed over at his supervisor, and told him "Sir, if we cross-examine the skills and specialties of the surviving students, we may be able to greatly narrow the list of suspects. We might even reduce it down to one."

"Do it," Furutani authorized him.

The evaluator quickly made himself busy. Furutani trusted him to work swiftly and efficiently, but he was compelled to adapt a second strategy to discover the assassin's identity. This was mostly just in case the first approach took too long or led nowhere.

Furutani raised his communicator up to his ear and stated "Lieutenant Nohara, come in."

"I'm here, sir," the sentry responded, "How is the investigation coming along?"

"We believe we've found the offender," Furutani explained to him, "However, we're having a few technical difficulties with the surveillance and tracking systems."

"What sort of difficulties?" queried Nohara.

"The wrongdoer has somehow interfered with them to avoid detection," Furutani replied, "We're having to resort to some drastic measures to learn their identity."

"Is there something I can do to aid your efforts to counter the resistance?" Nohara propounded.

"Yes, that is why I contacted you again," Furutani illuminated to the sentinel, "As you know, there is a team of combat medics stationed about seven outposts west of yours. I want you to call them and apprise them of the situation. After that, tell them to go to Lieutenant Tsukuda's outpost and conduct an autopsy on his body on site. If they can determine what type of bullet he was shot with, we may be able to trace it back to the weapon that fired it."

"You aim to isolate the guilty party through their assigned armament?" Nohara presumed.

"Exactly," Furutani confirmed, "Tell the medical team to contact me when they have completed the autopsy. And be sure to express to them that time is of the essence."

"I shall," Nohara granted him.

Once more, Furutani lowered his communicator and placed it on the table in front of his chair. He leaned against the surface of the counter, sighed deeply, and stated to no one in particular "This is truly remarkable, is it not? Six years I've been the head instructor of the Program, and I've never encountered anything quite like this. Whoever this person is, he or she might have made a fantastic criminal back home. I mean, look at how hard it is for us just to dig up a hint about their identity."

"If only we could use the archived feed to assist us," one of the coordinators proposed, "It must be convenient for the culprit that even we cannot watch any of the previously-recorded footage until the game is over. Otherwise, we'd be able to rewind the impaired cameras and catch the perpetrator in the act of sabotaging them."

"That implies we'll have to wait until the live broadcast is over before we can hope to repair or even use any of the cameras," one of the overseers ventured.

"Or maybe not," another coordinater refuted. This was the soldier that was monitoring Osamu's behavior. He called out to Furutani "Sir, I've got something that might be useful."

Furutani speedily made his way back over to the coordinator and noticed that the screen had been divided into two halves. They appeared to be displaying content from the camera Osamu Sano had been standing in front of. The surveillance man informed his boss "The left side is playing live feed from the roof of the mall. The right half is a five-second clip I managed to record and isolate from that same camera about a minute ago. Watch and listen closely, sir."

Furutani leaned in closer and focused his eyes and ears on the right half of the screen. He watched as Osamu lowered his binoculars and muttered quietly "Oh, my God. It's…"

Furutani moved in a little further, but he could not hear Osamu finish his sentence. He turned to the coordinator and asked him "Can you enhance the audio?"

"I've already tried that, sir," the soldier apprised his superior, "Unfortunately, even on maximum volume, I can't make anything else out. Either he was inaudible, or he never actually uttered the killer's name. However, there's still something in this clip that we can use."

At this, he paused the video at a particular instant. Then he pointed out Osamu's binoculars and announced to Furutani "Watch what happens when I magnify this section."

Furutani paid careful attention as the coordinator cropped up a section surrounding the lens of the binoculars and zoomed in on it. After that, he stated "Now all I need to do is enhance it. Then…"

After he improved the resolution of the image of the lens, he proudly declared "We've got a headshot."

Furutani smiled in approval and patted the coordinator on the back. "How convenient for us that Mr. Sano was in that place at that time. So, who is it?"

"I can't quite tell just yet," the coordinator reported, "You see, because it's been enlarged so greatly, the image is somewhat distorted. However, I think I'll be able to digitally reconstruct it. Once I have, we'll be given a totally clear picture."

"How long will it take you to restructure the illustration?" queried Furutani.

"No more than a half-hour," the coordinator assured him, "I'll enlighten you the moment I'm finished."

"Alright, good work," Furutani told the surveillance man, patting him on the back once more. He then took a look at his watch and muttered "Perfect timing, too. The morning announcements are on in fifty-five seconds. Is the loudspeaker network online?"

"Whenever you're ready, sir," the broadcast director corroborated.

Furutani picked up his microphone and the updated Program Obituary sheet off the table in the center of the room. Then he settled down in his chair and waited until his watch read 6:00:00. Once it did, he spoke into the microphone in the dissolute and unsympathetic tenor that the surviving participants were so familiar with. He said "Wakey-wakey, my young fighters. If you look to the east, you'll see that the sun is rising. It's the ubiquitous sign that the day has officially begun. Those of you who are still around should take that as a sign to rejoin the hunt. After all, the finest catch of the day can normally be found in sunlight."

He paused for a moment to let his morning greeting sink in. Then he went on with "While I know most of you feel incapable of sleep at this time, I'm hoping you all got enough rest to remain awake. After all, yesterday was a particularly invigorating day, and I'm hoping that day will be just as eventful. I won't accept the idea that you're all too tired to continue playing. Because I know you aren't, if the last six hours is any indication."

Furutani turned his attention to the Program Obituary. Then he announced "Now's the time for you to get out your casualty lists. The last announcement had five victims. This one has five as well. As always, they will be disclosed in chronological order. We start off with Girl #19, Fujihara Reika-san. It's an absolute travesty that such a vision of loveliness had to be taken away from us. A genuine natural beauty such as her only comes around about once in a lifetime. At least she had someone properly mourn over her, which is more than I can say about the majority of the preceding victims.

"Next up, Girl #13, Tashima Hina-san," Furutani continued, "Isn't it peculiar that the class clown – who spends all her time smiling and laughing – would ultimately go down screaming and hollering in anguish? Then again, she probably had the worst demise out of any of the contestants so far. Talk about brain damage. Anyway, let's move on to Girl #20, Yamakawa Tomoe-san. How about that? The fastest runner in the class, but she wasn't fast enough to dodge a bullet. Because of that, her soul's currently flowing down the River Styx, and her body is somewhere in another river."

Furutani took a brief break here, and then he proceeded with "Alright, enough with the fine ladies. We now have Boy #17, Hirata Fumitaka-kun. Shame that his newfound reputation as the quickest sprinter in Class 3-A was so short-lived. Even more unpleasant is his firsthand experience with the negative effects of electricity on the human body. The most unfortunate aspect of all is that it appeared as though one of his future family members would have never known him. But that matter seemed to resolve itself when Girl #8, Kikuchi Akina-san followed him soon after. In all my years as an instructor, I've never seen someone undergo a fate quite as gut-wrenching, both literally and metaphorically. Such a pity that an innocent life had to be taken alongside hers. Oh, well; I guess that's just the tragedy of nature at play."

Furutani then stood up from his chair, approached the table, and set the Program Obituary back down. Then he rose the microphone again and stated "On the subject of victims in this game who are not even participants, there is a delicate matter I must address. Two of you already know of it, but the remaining sixteen need to be apprised."

Furutani paused yet again, and then he took a deep breath and continued ominously with "A little more than twenty minutes ago, one of my sentries was shot and killed. By one of your classmates, nonetheless. For safety's sake, his killer shall be kept anonymous, just like all the other killers in this game. I will admit that the responsible party is very clever and crafty, but if he or she is honestly convinced that they will get away with this murder, they are sorely mistaken. I'm not telling you all this to give you the idea that there is a weak spot in the city's perimeter. Nor am I trying to imply that it's open season on the soldiers. I'm telling you this to give you a warning. If any more of my men die, I will give the order to have all the remaining collars detonated. Trust me when I say that is not a bluff."

He allowed a couple moments for this caveat to sink in. Then he returned to his usual uncomfortable tone of voice and remarked "Now that that's out of the way, all that remains to be discussed are the danger zones. Those shall be uncovered right now. At 0700 Hours, G-10 becomes forbidden. By 0900 Hours, you'll want to be out of I-1. At 1100 Hours, don't be anywhere near A-2. Did you get all that? You better hope so; I won't repeat any of it."

After taking one last short hiatus, Furutani concluded the second morning announcement with "Twenty-seven down, eighteen to go. Actually, seventeen would be more correct. If you're lucky, it may even be sixteen. As long as you try to take advantage of that new rule, there's a strong likelihood of that. Keep up the good work, and one or two of you will be back in Fujisawa soon enough. Have a lovely day!"

Furutani then flicked his microphone off and placed it back down on the table. Then he liberally rubbed his eyes with the tips of his index fingers, stretched his back and legs, and yawned loudly.

"Tired, sir?" queried one of the guards.

"Slightly," Furutani admitted, standing up straight and fixing his tie, "Rather ironic, isn't it? I advised the contestants to remain well-rested, yet we ourselves have been awake for longer than any of them. Thank goodness for those stimulants, otherwise I doubt I'd be able to make it through the game this easily."

"If you want, sir, you can go lie down somewhere and get some rest," one of the observers suggested, "We'll still keep you informed of any notable breakthroughs regarding Lieutenant Tsukuda's killer or the game."

"I appreciate the offer, but I must decline," Furutani replied, "After all, as the head instructor, I'm required and obligated to see this entire Battle Royale through from the beginning to the end. Aside from that, I do not wish to miss even one minute of this absolutely riveting game. Although it may be too early to say for certain, this is probably my favorite Program to date. There may not be as much violence, sex, and profanity as the previous games, but I don't think there's ever been a Battle Royale with this much drama in it. Personally, I believe that psychological development between the contestants is far more intriguing than any amount of violence, sex, and profanity could ever be."

"You'll find that the majority of us share that sentiment, sir," stated one of the monitors, "I was especially fascinated by that discussion between Boy #14 and Girl #17 at the fire department."

"Yes, that was certainly one of the main highlights," Furutani coincided. He then abruptly turned to face a few soldiers who were responsible for selecting what got broadcasted on live television and said to them lugubriously "But nothing from that one part of their conversation was broadcasted, correct?"

"As you ordered, we made certain to exclude everything pertaining to that munitions empire that was supposedly established by the father of Boy #14," one of the broadcasters confirmed.

"Excellent," Furutani nodded in approval, "It would be ideal for us to keep all that material confidential. The last thing we need is for a political and social scandal to surface without confirmation."

"Pardon me for saying so, sir," stated one of the moderators, "But Boy #14 sounded quite serious about everything he said. I see no reason to doubt that he was telling the truth about those covert factories."

"I understand where you're coming from," Furutani assured his subordinate, "But first you should consider everything we've observed about Boy #14. His profile regards him as an open, compassionate, thoughtful leader who is devoted to his peers. That completely contradicts the malevolent, scheming, secretive traitor he's been since his encounter with Girl #7. If he is capable of exhibiting two entirely different personas, who's to say he might not also be a chronic liar?"

"That's certainly a reasonable hypothesis, sir," admitted one of the guards, "But his story seemed too convincing and elaborate to have been fabricated. If we're not going to let the public know, shouldn't we at least report it to the board of directors?"

"I've honestly considered that," stated Furutani, "However, in the long run, all we would really have to base our report on could be interpreted as nothing more than the testimony of a minor. Hardly enough to warrant a subpoena, let alone an investigation. We can arrange to conduct a much more thorough examination into this matter later on. That will be before we pass along any of the material we acquired from Mr. Nishihara to the government or anyone else. So until that time, none of that information will leave this room. Is that understood?"

Some of the soldiers seemed hesitant to accept this proposal, but Furutani was both their manager and an agent of the federal government. Both of those merits gave him a marvelous amount of authority. So they had little choice but to agree to his commands.

Once he felt he had ample reassurance that his orders would be obeyed, Furutani returned to his chair and sunk down into it. He spent the next several minutes thinking about the events of the past six hours. In his opinion, it had been the tensest segment of this year's Battle Royale by far. A few of the previous Programs had gradually gotten duller after midnight of the first day. Not this one; it only gone more and more thrilling with every passing hour. For the first time ever, Furutani found himself empathizing with some of the contestants. Most notably Fumitaka and Akina.

As a parent, he knew what the two of them must have been going through when their unborn child was in jeopardy. As a parent who worked for the federal government, he went through a similar worry just about every day of his life. He may have sounded as though he did not really care when he announced how Fumitaka and Akina died. In actuality, he did feel genuine pity for them. He just disguised his tone to hide his true emotions.

Furutani was not usually one to select favorites in the Program, but secretly, he had been rooting for Fumitaka and Akina for most of the game. He could respect the bond the two of them shared. It was the basis of a strong relationship based on two young lovers who had eyes for none but each other. Furutani had a similar relationship with his wife.

One may challenge this notion by recollecting the very first event of the Program. When Furutani first explained the rules, he had casually remarked about how he found Blaine Rhodes' mother physically attractive, and he shamelessly admitted to raping the class's teacher Nami Kawano. However, while there was some reasoning behind Furutani's words and actions, it was much different than what one would originally suspect.

While he did indeed think of Hillary Rhodes as an attractive woman, he had only mentioned his interest in her to taunt and aggravate her son Blaine. Furutani mostly said those things to try to incite a reaction out of the Program's first-ever American contestant. Needless to say, he was quite amused.

As for the matter concerning Ms. Kawano, it was even more intricate. Ms. Kawano had been gang-raped by several of the soldiers; Furutani had only joined in as a way to reassert his authority to the unfortunate teacher. While he did like reaffirming his position, he did not take any especial pleasure in the rape itself. He just wanted to convince the students he enjoyed it so that they would have more cause to fear him. In the long run, Furutani only had eyes for his wife. All the same, he had no desire to bring this matter up to her. If so, he would probably risk losing her, and losing her would have been as devastatingly bad to him as losing one of their children.

Of course, that was a worry Furutani had already been through. When his son was in the ninth-grade, he had been concerned that his class would get selected for the Program. To his vast relief, the class chosen that year was from a school all the way on the other side of the country. So while Furutani had what could be regarded as a close call, it was only his first. In three years, he would have to go through it again when his daughter graduated from junior high school. He kept trying to remind himself that chances of selection were virtually insignificant, but he could never ignore the fact that it always had to be someone's kids.

Until his daughter reached the end of ninth grade, all he could do was silently hope that she would be fortunate enough to avoid certain death, just as her older brother had avoided it.

In the midst of his reverie, Furutani was interrupted by the eager voice of one of the coordinators: "Sir, I've just finished recompiling the image!"

At that, Furutani snapped out of his muse, looked over at the surveillance station, and requested fervently "Well, who is it?"

"I'm printing out a full-size copy of the headshot right now," the coordinator answered him, "Once it's out, you should be able to identify."

"Very well, proceed," stated Furutani. The coordinator nodded and entered a command for the computer to print the new version of the image. A minute later, the printer near Furutani's chair gradually expelled a single piece of paper. Once the ink had totally dried and the sheet was resting on the top tray, Furutani reached out, picked it up, and looked down at it.

He carefully studied the face on the paper, and he quickly determined who it was. Then he simply raised an eyebrow in interest and asked the coordinator "You are certain of this?"

"Absolutely, sir," the coordinator assured him, "I tested the integrity of the image myself, and while I did enhance it, it has not been altered. You're seeing what Mr. Sano saw forty minutes ago."

Furutani gazed back down at the sheet and insouciantly perceived "Well, I was wondering when she would turn up."

Who did he see?

He saw a person Kiyomi Takayama had spent a great deal of time with back in Fujisawa. She and this person had been very close for as long as they had known each other. In fact, Kiyomi had a picture of this person in her bedroom at her house back in Fujisawa. She had written a caption under that picture in ancient Japanese characters. Roughly translated, the characters spelt "Best Friends Forever."

There was no caption on the sheet in Furutani's hand. There was nothing on it except a broadened close-up of the puzzlingly menacing complexion of Asayo Endou (Girl #5).

…

Furutani and his men had successfully discovered a lead as to the identity of Lieutenant Tsukuda's killer. However, this matter remained a complete mystery to most of the contestants. They found it perplexing how one of their own classmates could have been so bold as to commit such an impudent action. While they were all pleased to hear that one of their captors had been executed, some were skeptical about the motives of the perpetrator, and they visualized several different theories about the killer's reasons.

Three such individuals were Blaine Rhodes, Tatsuo Inoue (Boy #2), and Kiyomi Takayama (Girl #12). At the present, they were standing outside a warehouse in E-8, which was where they had stopped for the morning announcements. Originally, they had planned to just pause for the broadcast, listen intently to it, jot down any valuable information, and simply move on. However, Furutani had made a few particularly intriguing statements which had attracted their attention. So they chose to remain outside the facility and discuss them. There was also something Blaine had been meaning to bring up to his best friend and girlfriend. He had been putting it off for hours because he was uncertain how to address it. But at this point, he was convinced that he could not afford to delay it any longer. So he decided that once he spotted an ideal place in their conversation, he would speak to them about this delicate matter.

"Am I the only one who thinks that Furutani seemed strangely distraught when he mentioned Fumitaka and Akina on the casualty list?" Blaine noted in puzzlement.

"I noticed that, too," Kiyomi nodded her head candidly, "Rather surprising, seeing as how he didn't sound so concerned about anyone else's fate during the previous announcements."

"Yeah, I was beginning to think he didn't give any shits whatsoever about any of us, or about how we died," Tatsuo commented drily, "But now there's evidence that suggests I may be wrong. What do you suppose happened to Fumitaka and Akina to warrant empathy from Furutani?"

"Well, there was that statement he made about an 'innocent life' being lost," Blaine recalled.

"That was a rather interesting point," Tatsuo remarked, rubbing his chin, "I wonder who it was. The army made certain that this entire city was evacuated days before we arrived, and I find it very unlikely that any civilians could have gotten past the barricades. Who else could he have referred to?"

"Well, since he mentioned it when he got to Akina's death, I feel I can venture a guess as to what he meant," Kiyomi said self-assuredly.

Blaine shrugged casually and presumed "You believe Akina was with child?"

"Well, we've dismissed every other option, so that's the only one that's still available," Kiyomi reasoned, "It's also the one that makes the most sense. After all, it's no secret that Fumitaka and Akina were sleeping together."

"Yeah, but I never would have guessed that Akina was pregnant," stated Tatsuo, "After all, knowing how open she normally was about telling the truth, she wouldn't have tried hiding it or covering it up."

"It's likely that she only found out herself recently," Blaine inferred, "I mean, it's quite obvious she must have known. Otherwise, how could Furutani have been aware of it?"

"That sounds like a graspable assumption," Kiyomi speculated, "Still, I'm fairly certain that nobody else in the class knew. I'll bet Fumitaka didn't even know about Akina's condition."

"Then he would have died without learning that he could have been a father," Tatsuo pointed out, "Some may consider that a tragedy, but that's just one way of looking at it. Think about it in this fashion: since he perished before Akina, Fumitaka was spared the terrible process of witnessing the death of his child."

"Avoiding that pain would certainly be desirable," Kiyomi remarked.

"I'll bet that the parents of every student in this class would wholeheartedly agree with that statement," Blaine surmised, "Right now, they all must be undergoing that type of anguish."

"That could very well be the reason Furutani appeared to be conveying his sympathy towards Fumitaka and Akina," Tatsuo observed, "He probably has children of his own."

"Wouldn't surprise me," Blaine pronounced, "If one of his own kids was in this game, I don't think Furutani would be anywhere near this city. He may be a creepy-ass son of a bitch, but for all we know, he may be a family man as well."

"If he does, it would probably be that dirtbag's one redeeming quality," Kiyomi sharply declared.

"Plus, considering how furious he sounded when he got to the fate of that sentry, he must at least be capable of showing respect towards his coworkers," Blaine positively alleged.

"That's an even more intriguing subject than the one we've been talking about," Tatsuo stated, "Maybe we should give it some attention."

"Alright," Blaine acknowledged.

"Sounds fine to me," Kiyomi coincided.

Tatsuo leaned against the wall of the warehouse and inquired "You guys have any idea about who may have slaughtered that patrolman?"

"Oh, I can think of a few potential suspects," Kiyomi remarked, "However, given the fact that most – if not all – of us have adapted a capricious tendency, it would be more realistic if we assume that anyone could have done it."

"That's a very practical outlook," Blaine concurred, "For all we know, the culprit may have been the very person we're after right now."

"I don't think so," Tatsuo countered, "While we do not know very much about that hooded figure, everything we do know indicates that he is totally committed to playing and winning this game. With that in mind, if he is so bent on that objective, why would he eradicate one of the people who are there to ensure the Program's continuation?"

"I suppose that would be some irrefutable logic," Blaine admitted, "I guess somebody else is to blame. I wonder who could have managed to pull off that stunt."

"If you ask me, I'd say it was someone who is either extremely confident or excessively nonchalant about dealing with the consequences of their actions," Kiyomi wisely observed, "They had to be one or the other. I mean, what else could have driven them to target a soldier?"

"I can imagine a number of probable reasons," Tatsuo answered, "Maybe it was anger or rage that compelled them to act. It could have been a desire to avenge our late classmates, as well. Perhaps they were just fueled by a thirst for blood. Then again, maybe they were just testing their weapon on the nearest living being."

"Or… it could very well be possible that the offender wanted to give Furutani and his men a demonstration of what they are capable of," Blaine hypothesized, "Case in point, it could have been done out of defiance or assertion."

"Personally, I doubt the instructors would really have been that impressed," Kiyomi proclaimed, "But if that actually was the killer's motive, I'd understand where they were coming from."

"At any rate, Furutani sounded very pissed off when he brought it up," Tatsuo recounted, "So at the very least, it certainly must have left an impression on him."

"Let's just hope everybody takes his warning seriously," Kiyomi perceived, "Because he's threatened to detonate the collars if somebody provokes him like that again. Then we'll all be permanently out of the game."

"That's unacceptable," Tatsuo pronounced, "Not only because we'd all be out of commission, but also because all our efforts to survive and escape this game will have been in vain."

Tatsuo's last statement was very relevant to the delicate topic on Blaine's mind. Right then, the American student spotted an ideal opportunity to address the matter with his friends. He still felt profusely uncomfortable about it, but he felt it was something that had to be discussed, and it would be better to bring it up sooner rather than later.

Since neither of his friends had anything more to say, Blaine tentatively began with "Guys, on that note… there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about. I would have brought it up earlier, but… well, let's just say I was certain it would not play well with either of you."

"Well, I'm sure you had your reasons for keeping it silent," Tatsuo assured his best friend.

"Go ahead, Blaine," Kiyomi told her boyfriend, "We're willing to listen to whatever you have to say."

Now that he had their undivided attention, Blaine could finally proceed. He inhaled deeply, exhaled loudly, and said to them "I know this has probably occurred to you already, but I still feel the need to ask. Have you considered the possibility that this may be a lost cause?"

"In what way?" Tatsuo asked in perplexity.

"Well, it's been nine hours since that fiasco at the hotel," Blaine explained, "In all that time, we've searched less than a tenth of the city, seven more members of the class have been killed, and we haven't discovered any trace of that hooded figure. I'm beginning to question if we'll ever find him. And if we do, there's still no verification that he'll have what we need."

"What do you mean?" queried Kiyomi.

"Well, maybe he's destroyed the flash drive," Blaine theorized, "Or maybe he's modified or sabotaged it. It could be possible that the device will be completely undamaged, but what if it turns out that Teru didn't finish rewriting his disruption code? Imagine what it would be like if the code doesn't even work."

"That would be greatly disappointing," Tatsuo admitted, "However, that doesn't mean we can't try repairing the damage. Teru was the best at computer programming, but there are still several others who excelled in that class. Chiaki, Toshirou, Asayo… especially Asayo, she'd probably be able to help us."

"Aside from that, we could always try finding another means of escape," Kiyomi proposed, "In the Battle Royale of 2000, one of the contestants – Shinji Mimura – developed a bomb which he intended to use on the school. Coincidentally, his class number was the same as Teru's, Boy #19. He probably would have succeeded, had he not been intercepted by the game's deadliest contender."

"That's all very fine and good," Blaine remarked, "But let's say for a moment that we can't use the disruption code, it can't be fixed, and we can't come up with another escape plan. What do you suppose would happen?"

"Well, hopefully, most of us would continue resisting the game for as long as possible," Tatsuo speculated, "But there's no way around the inevitable. Eventually, after a string of failed endeavors, people will start to panic."

"Once that transpires, it will only be a matter of time before somebody snaps," Kiyomi observed, "In that scenario, having so many allies would prove to be a huge disadvantage. The more people we're around, the greater chance there'd be that at least one of them will lose their cool."

"That's the point I'm trying to make," Blaine informed them, "Look, I'm not trying to discourage you from continuing to pursue the prospect of escape, but we should take a moment to acknowledge the possibility that it may just be a false hope. Once everybody else realizes that, tensions will run higher than they already are. In the long run, this game might have to end the traditional way where only one person is still breathing."

"Actually, there could be two survivors this year," Tatsuo casually reminded him.

"That brings me to the focal point of this conversation," Blaine sheepishly went on, "This part of it is the reason I was so reluctant to have it in the first place. Before I proceed, promise me that neither of you will freak out or anything before I'm finishing talking."

Initially, Tatsuo and Kiyomi gazed at each other in confusion, but then they turned back to Blaine and nodded their heads in confirmation. The American student paused for a few seconds to mentally prepare himself, and then he advanced with "Guys, suppose it turns out escape is not possible and that our allies become just as big a threat to us as that hooded figure. The bloodshed will only continue, and it's unlikely that we'd be able to survive the bulk of it. However, if we are careful enough and watch out for each other, we may manage to outlive everybody else. If that happens, I have a plan to get the government to let both of you out of this city."

"But Blaine, the only way the government would allow two victors would be if there were at least two other contestants and one of them killed you," Kiyomi uneasily pointed out.

"Exactly," Blaine calmly stated. Tatsuo and Kiyomi appeared to be troubled by this one-word sentence, but they had sworn not to lose their composure until he was finished speaking. So he looked away for a second, and then he brusquely told them "If it gets down to just the three of us… I want one of you to shoot me."

Now they had his permission to go berserk. And they almost did.

"What?" Tatsuo uttered quietly, "Tell me I just misheard you."

"Perhaps you should have kept that quiet after all," Kiyomi muttered in distress, "How could you even suggest we do that?"

Blaine dispassionately rubbed his forehead with his free hand and thought aloud "I predicted you'd react this way to my proposal."

"'Proposal?'" Kiyomi spoke softly, "That's not a proposal; it's a death wish. It's goddamn lunacy!"

"She's right," Tatsuo unbendingly concurred, "Have you already lost your sanity, Blaine?"

"I've never been saner or more serious in my life," Blaine assured them, "I'm totally coherent right now. I am not speaking from a suicidal tendency. Nor am I testing the durability of our friendship. Believe me when I say I don't want to die. Hell, I'm terrified of dying. But let's face it; your government would only allow me to survive this ordeal if everyone is dead, including you two. I can't bear the thought of that happening. I couldn't live with myself, knowing I could have saved both of you."

"Blaine, we do appreciate your selflessness," Tatsuo countered, "We are extremely grateful for that. But what you're asking is… atrocious."

"You're basically asking one of us to look you in the eye and execute you like an animal," Kiyomi stated in agreement.

"No, the arrangement I have in mind is much more intricate than that, Kiyomi," Blaine enlightened her, "I fully intend to retain some form of pride and dignity when it happens."

"'When' it happens?" Tatsuo repeated, "What are you? Your own judge, jury, and executioner? You're talking as though your fate's already been decided."

"He's right," Kiyomi firmly agreed, "You must realize that you can't force us to comply with this request. There's no way we'd do it unless we voluntarily consent to it. So unless you somehow managed to convince us, it will never happen."

"I was prepared to face some resistance from both of you," Blaine disclosed, "So I formulated a few arguments to defend my reasoning. For starters, don't you know that several members of the class would give anything to be given the offer I'm giving you?"

"Of course we're aware of that," Kiyomi answered, "But we're not them, and we don't plan to be."

"And if we encounter any of those people, I wouldn't hesitate to kill them," Tatsuo affirmed, "Any enemy of my friends if an enemy of mine, as well."

"I am relieved to hear you say that," Blaine revealed, "However, what if I told you this is what I wanted? If I managed to save both of you by giving my own life, I would be content with whatever fate awaits me. That's what I want."

"Is that supposed to make your idea any easier for us to comprehend?" Kiyomi snapped, "Blaine, what about what we want? You must realize how much you've impacted our lives in these last nine months. You're the first man outside of my family that ever kissed me. You're the first guy I ever dated. I was never with anybody before you; I barely even looked at boys. You showed me what it actually meant to be loved. After the class trip, I would have gone with you to the airport to say good-bye whenever you went home. I would have wanted to stay by your side for as long as possible. And as of right now, you and I are the only couple that's still intact. Mamoru and Yasuko committed suicide, and Fumitaka and Akina were killed just this morning. That's something that's precious, and you're asking me to destroy it. That's a horrible concept, and you know it."

Blaine could not deny that Kiyomi was making a great deal of sense. He turned to Tatsuo hopefully, but his best friend shook his head, crossed his arms, and stated "No matter how opposed Kiyomi sounds to your scheme, I'm just as opposed, if not more so. Blaine, before you visited this country, I had no one to talk to about my interests. No one. Not even my parents and siblings. Sure, Kiyomi and the other members of our group accepted me and were willing to listen, but they just 'put up' with my deep-seated fascination in western culture. Whenever I talked about that stuff, it was pretty much a one-sided conversation on my part. I was even worse off before junior high, when I was ostracized and derided for my tastes. In fact, I almost wasn't accepted in Keio University for that reason alone. I'm fortunate that the staff was impressed by my vast understanding of politics and history. Otherwise, they may have denied my entrance. So when you came to Japan, it was like a blessing in corporeal form. You were the first American I ever met, and you confirmed my notion that my government's portrayal of your country as corrupt is a crock of shit. You shared firsthand experiences with me that I could not find anywhere else. The memories of those events are more meaningful to me than ten times the amount of prize money that's awarded to the winner of this stupid game. What kind of friend would I be if I took all that and threw it away?"

Blaine found himself speechless. Apparently, he had either overestimated his ability to present a fine argument, or he had underestimated his friends' ability to counter one. At any rate, they appeared to be inflexible on their profound disapproval of his plan. He assiduously declared "There's something I've always admired about the Japanese. You know what that is? It's the unyieldingly strong bonds they have between family and friends. According to your country's history and what I've actually seen, family has always been viewed as one of your people's biggest assets, and friendship goes beyond 'mere acquaintances.' I suppose I should have known better than to ask either of you to go through with my idea without considering the personal inner-conflict you may have had about it. I wasn't trying to sound selfish or demanding. I just wanted to ensure the likelihood of your survival."

"Don't get us wrong, Blaine; we appreciate your concern," Tatsuo assured him, "In fact, all that stuff about unbreakable bonds of friendship… the Program is probably the government's way of testing our resolve. But I'm determined not to give in to this madness."

"As am I," Kiyomi added in, "Besides, how would we even decide who would… do it?"

Blaine lightly scoffed and replied "I was thinking you could just flip a yen. It'd be as good a stratagem as any."

"You shouldn't even joke about that," Tatsuo adversely remarked, "Selecting a person's fate by a simple coin toss… that'd be a reprehensible disregard for life."

"Well, my second idea was that I'd just leave it up to you two," Blaine thought aloud, "After all, the principal deciding factor in this matter wouldn't be my fate. It would be the person who carried it out. So it would be more appropriate if the choice was yours entirely. However, based on what you've told me, you'd both probably strongly disagree over who should do it. That may generate some pressure between the two of you, and that's the last thing I'd like to do. So I'm out of ideas."

There was a very long, very unpleasant period of silence following Blaine's last comment. Then he sighed once more and told his friends "Just keep everything we've discussed in mind. Once we've recovered that flash drive and determined its usefulness, we'll decide what to do from there. It may turn out my fears are unwarranted, after all. But until then, we cannot take the concept of escape for granted. It may help if you just think of my proposal as an unconditional last resort in the worst case scenario. Is that suitable enough for you?"

Kiyomi and Tatsuo took a while to think about everything Blaine had told them. After about two more minutes of thorough contemplation, they turned back to him and nodded their heads in agreement. They were not promising anything by this gesture, but they were giving him some assurance that they would not try to forget all about his proposal either.

Another thirty seconds later, Tatsuo got out his watch and checked it for the time. Then he whistled and announced to the others "We better press on. We've been here for almost a half-hour."

"Very well," Blaine agreed. He gripped the strap of his backpack and inquired "Where should we head next?"

"Why not go back into the eastern apartment complex?" Kiyomi advised, "We've left it most unexplored, and it strikes me as an ideal place to find a formidable hideout."

"Then let's do it," Tatsuo concurred. He slid his watch back into his jacket and took a few steps out into the street. As he did, he said "We may as well encounter a clue about-"

Without warning, a long, thin wooden device sailed past Tatsuo's face and grazed his right cheek. His hand shot up to his cheek, and he shouted in shock and pain as he dropped to his knees. Blaine and Kiyomi were immediately at his sides.

"Tats, what's wrong?" Blaine asked frantically. Tatsuo just gazed at the ground and kept his hand pressed against his cheek. When Blaine noticed a few red drops were dripping out of the spaces between Tatsuo's fingers, he was overcome with alarm and worry. He requested pleadingly "Let me see it."

Tatsuo slowly removed his hand from his cheek, and Blaine and Kiyomi discovered that a shallow yet extensive gash had been made in the side of Tatsuo's face.

"What the hell is that?" Blaine whispered hauntingly.

"It's too wide to be a gunshot wound or a knife wound," Kiyomi nervously perceived, "It must have been caused by… an archer."

At that, Blaine armed himself with his shotgun and Kiyomi drew her revolver. They looked all around the area, but it appeared to be deserted. Rather than lingering out in the open until this outlook could be disproved, the trio decided to take advantage of it and locate some shelter. They were less than five meters away from the entrance to the warehouse, so they chose that. Tatsuo still had the capacity to stand and walk, but Blaine gave him a helping hand while Kiyomi kept an eye out for any hostiles. Once they reached the doors, Blaine opened them up and slipped inside with Tatsuo. Kiyomi followed shortly after and closed the doors behind her.

"Did you see anyone?" Blaine queried anxiously.

"No, whoever it was must have left," Kiyomi deduced.

"Well, let's not take any chances," Blaine recommended, "We should locate a back entrance to this place, just in case we're unable to leave through the front without being detected."

Kiyomi gazed around the room they had just entered and noticed it was the warehouse's main storage unit. There were crates piled everywhere in various sizes and amounts. There also appeared to be some more doors along the other three walls. After she was done studying the room, Kiyomi told Blaine "Alright. You stay here and look after Tatsuo. I'll go see if any of the other doors leads anywhere."

Blaine accepted this strategy. While he examined the cut on Tatsuo's face, Kiyomi went to work running around the storage unit and checking each and every door for accessibility. Sometimes she could not get the door open. Sometimes she did, but closed it shortly after. A couple times she got one opened, ran through it, and came back a few seconds later. About ten minutes later, she had circled the entire storage unit. When she returned to Blaine and Tatsuo, she apprised them of her findings: "Bad news. I tried every single door in this room. It turns out all of them either bolted shut, lead to private offices, or lead to a corridor of offices. Some of the offices had windows, but they've all been barred. None of the doors brought me to a room that leads outside. The only way we're leaving this building is if we go out the way we came."

"I was afraid of that," Blaine remarked uneasily, "I just looked out the window about a minute ago. Our mysterious guest has returned."

At that, Kiyomi approached the nearest window and gazed outside. She immediately discovered that Maki Nakamura (Girl #15) was standing across the street. She had a longbow in her left hand and a quiver of arrows strapped to her back. She eyed the entrance to the warehouse in interest, as if she was eagerly awaiting the trio of friends to emerge.

Kiyomi groaned in despair and sank to the ground. There was no denying it now. They were trapped.

18 Students Remaining