Murderer in the Flower of Death (17 page)

Eiri’s nails. Her nails were beautiful, with a foundation of bright red polish, ornamented with multicolored rhinestones and Swarovski crystals, the pointed ends bordered with black.
Bordered with—black-luster steel
.

“
Suzaku
fingernail blades.
Ultra-thin, miniature Japanese blades attached to the tips of my fingernails.
They can slice right through wood, plastic, and of course flesh and bone as easily as butter. Three fingers on each hand, index, middle, and ring finger, wear these tiny blades. Six in all—that’s my deadly weapon.”

Eiri’s eyes, which were now wide open, gleamed like naked steel. Sharpened to a diamond edge, they were the crystallization of her sheer, murderous will.

The bewilderment that had spread among the murderers turned to shock—then fear.

Eiri Akabane. She was a slasher who had killed six people, the true top of the class.

This was the first time that Kyousuke had seen her terrible glory with his own eyes.

“…Do you know why I’m telling you about my deadly weapon before I kill you? It’s because showing you my weapon before I kill you is, in a way, a warning. I’m giving you a second chance. Though I’d be happy to just slash you right now… Keeping my nails so pristine can be a real pain. If you swear not to come near us again after this—I’ll overlook this for you this one time.”

Eiri glared at them, murder flashing in her coppery-red eyes. The boys encircling Kyousuke seemed to falter slightly at the sight of her bloodthirsty gaze.

“H-hey…what do we do?” “Are those eyes for real?” “Gyaaah?! My left arm…” “But there’s only one of her.” “Plus it’s a girl.” “Plus, hee-hee, she’s so flat chested…hee-hee-hee.”

A restless light glistened in Eiri’s eyes. “…I see. Then, I’ll start by killing this one. First, I’ll push my finger into your kidney area. A lot of nerves are gathered there, so this will hurt so badly you’ll wish you were dead! You’ll convulse with intense, gut-wrenching pain, and once your body collapses and you’re pinned to the ground, I’ll slit open your belly for you…cutting open your skin and tearing through your flesh, shaving off your fat and slicing up your bones, churning up your internal organs—”

“I g-g-get it! Please stop! I’ll do as you say, so stop!” Shinji cried, interrupting Eiri’s dispassionate monologue. All of the color had drained from his face, and it seemed like the rest of his murderous entourage had lost their nerve as well.

Eiri smiled in satisfaction as she delicately traced a finger from Shinji’s throat down to the side of his abdomen, just where his kidney would be.

“…Ehh, is that so? Well, that’s fine if you get it, but only if you
really do
get it. After all, you’re a cowardly fool who can’t do anything more than torment helpless prey, so… Hey, you guys! Pick up those idiots sleeping over there, and get out of here. Once you’ve done that, I’ll let this one go… Now, get lost!”

No one dared defy Eiri’s orders. Discarding their weapons and shouldering their unconscious comrades, they ran away as fast as they could. As he was leaving, Oonogi spat out a reckless parting remark. “I…I’ll remember this, tiny tits!”

But Eiri just glanced at him and snapped back, shaking her fist,
“Tiny tits are the best! Cutting boards reign supreme! A cups are seriously great!” An instant later and he was gone with the rest of them.

Her anger beginning to dissipate, Eiri let out a small sigh as she kicked the revolver away. “…Well, that happened. Now you disappear, too. Never start something with me again, Shinji, you laughable pervert. I don’t want to sully my perfect nails with your filthy blood.” With that, she kicked Shinji square in the back as hard as she could.

“Gyah!!” Shinji pitched forward from the kick, falling awkwardly to all fours. With his head hung low, the boy’s expression was not visible. Was it fear or something closer to shame—? His body trembled slightly. His grasping fingers dug into the dirt on the ground.

“Heh…hee-hee…hee…ha-ha…fwa-ha-ha…” Eerie laughter echoed up from Shinji’s still-bleeding throat. “I understand, Miss Eiri…I will never again meddle in your affairs. Only…” Slowly standing, Shinji turned to face Eiri again; his sick smile was so wide that it threatened to tear his face apart. “Please remember this
very
well. Going forward, if you should happen to die, Miss Eiri…I
will
be putting my hands on
you
! Like flies and hyenas, I will sniff out the scent of death and do just as I please with your body once it has become a corpse…heh-heh-heh.”

“……”

“Until then, good-bye. So that I might rush to your side at the moment of your death, I will always be sniffing around… Won’t you please remember that
very
well, Miss Eeeiri?” Leaving his words to linger like the promise of a curse, Shinji turned on his heels and calmly walked away.

Glaring at the retreating rapist, Eiri snatched the revolver up off the ground and, with one hand, casually aimed it at Shinji’s back. “You’d better die before me… Bang.” She pretended to pull the trigger, then shrugged. Her harsh, half-lidded eyes, as always, seemed to take no heed of the words Shinji had left behind…

Kyousuke was once again reminded that Eiri was one person whom he absolutely did not want to have as an enemy.

“…Tch. You’re pathetic, Kyousuke. Don’t fall apart.” Eiri advanced toward where Kyousuke sat leaning against the wall of the
gymnasium. Mindful of her hidden blades, she pushed her hair back using her thumb and pinkie finger and looked down at him sternly.

“…So this is our top-of-the-class murderer? What a joke! Never mind twelve people, you didn’t even kill
one
. If you’d wanted to, you should have been able to take out any number of them, so…why?”

“Uh, well…that’s, you see—”

I want to, but there’s no way that I can answer her truthfully.
Even less so after he had found out Eiri’s secret to success as the Scarlet Slasher. Kyousuke kept silent and averted his gaze, and Eiri let out another sigh.

“…You’re difficult to understand, you know that? You’ve killed twelve people, and yet, in a strange way, you’re charming. This time, you didn’t bother to tell us honestly that you had been called out… And you even made up an excuse to get away. You were acting strange, and when I secretly came to see what was going on…you were going to go and get yourself killed. It doesn’t make any sense…what was that about?” Kicking at the dirt with her toes, Eiri prattled on in irritation.

Yet Kyousuke searched Eiri’s face for any indication that she had been worried about him. Her half-lidded eyes were only sleepy, and he detected none of the sharp bloodlust that had been there a short while ago. Like a sword returned to its scabbard, she had completely returned to being normal Eiri.

A girl who, while appearing sullen, in reality was always worrying over other people. He understood her far less now after seeing her behave as the Scarlet Slasher.
Why would Eiri act this way—?

“I may be strangely charming, but aren’t you just the same way? You’re a cutthroat who has murdered six people, and on top of that, you fuss over using the blades on your nails to kill. Why did you take it upon yourself to come save me? And not just me, but Maina, too. You’re always meddling in one thing or another! In the end, you threatened them, but you didn’t kill anyone, either.”

“……”

Eiri raised her eyebrows high, frowned, and kept quiet for a moment. After a brief silence, she looked down at Kyousuke, scoffing. “Huh…? Don’t lump me in with you! The reason I let those guys live was because I decided that just threatening them was enough. I was entirely prepared to slit his throat. Compared to you, who had no inclination to kill in the first place, I’m…different. Mostly, I’m—”

Stopping for a moment, Eiri looked hard at her fingernails. Ingeniously camouflaged, she had kept these deadly weapons hidden until now. Devised solely for stealthy slaughter, her nails were razor-sharp works of art. The fingernail blades, “Suzaku.” They were the culmination of Eiri’s exceptional fastidiousness toward the art of murder.

“I’m no amateur killer—” she mumbled, still staring at her deadly nails. “I’m a professional.”

“…Huh?” Kyousuke clearly had no idea what Eiri was saying. “A professional…at killing?”

“Yeah, that’s right. A hit man. Though in my case, ‘assassin’ is more appropriate. People who kill in the course of some individual event, or who do it as a hobby, those are amateurs. Those of us who take requests and orders to carry out kills are professionals. …That’s why I don’t kill people recklessly. I’m not in the habit of cheap murder, with no reason or significance or profit. Surely you understand that I’m not an amateur, having seen my concealed weapons?”

Closing one eye, Eiri held up her brightly colored nails. It was too refined a weapon for an amateur to wield, but it seemed reasonable that Eiri would use it as a professional. There was one question, however, that needed to be answered.

“Supposing you’re not just a killer, but a professional one—an assassin, as I understand it. At least, I think I understand it… Then, why are you in a place like this? Purgatorium Remedial Academy is a facility for rehabilitating killers, isn’t it? Isn’t it strange that someone like you would be here?”

Eiri grimaced at Kyousuke’s inquiry. “…Hmm.” After standing there quietly for a short while, she sullenly looked away. “…Not particularly. There’s no special reason for it. I just
screwed up
, that’s all. I was witnessed doing a job by an ordinary person, and I got caught, nothing more. Don’t ask me anything else about it. Okay?”

She glanced at him, glaring with half-lidded eyes.

Kyousuke couldn’t say another word, pinned under that strong gaze.

“…”

“…”

For a short while, a delicate silence descended between the two,
alone together in the quiet shade behind the school gym—but it was quickly broken by the chime signaling the end of lunch period and the start of the rest of the day.

“…and that’s the reason for it. And that’s basically what capital punishment is—”

“Sorry I’m late.” The door in the front of the classroom opened with a clatter, and Eiri stepped through.

At the chalkboard, Kurumiya’s smooth writing came to an abrupt stop.

The students’ eyes quietly gathered on the intruder.

“Oh…Eiri,” Maina wondered, her eyes growing wide.

Shinji, Usami, and Oonogi stiffened visibly.

Without bothering to look at them, Eiri yawned softly, facing Kurumiya, who had not moved from her place in front of the blackboard. “…I’m late because during lunch I saved Kamiya from getting killed by these guys and then stopped by the infirmary on my way back.” She threw down the assorted weapons that Shinji and his lackeys had pulled out earlier.

Among them, lying on the podium behind Kurumiya, was Shinji’s revolver.

“Eeeek!! A g-gg-g-gun?!” Maina’s hysteric shriek led the uproar that engulfed the class. Shock, excitement, and confusion… Even among this crowd of murders, it was likely the first time that most had seen a real firearm.

In the midst of the tumult, in a severe voice that demanded attention, Eiri addressed Kurumiya, who had yet to move. “Is it acceptable for such contraband to be circulating among the student body, Ms. Kurumiya? If you happen to have any free time in between disciplining latecomers, would you please do something about this? Luckily, Kamiya wasn’t hurt, but—” Looking over her shoulder, Eiri frowned. “What were you doing out there, anyway?”

Kyousuke’s bandage- and gauze-covered face peeked out from around the door, where he had been watching events play out. “Ah, sorry… Geez, you really have a way of putting things, don’t you…?” Feeling the pressure of Eiri’s reproachful gaze, he turned away.

Talking in that brazen manner, in such a snappy tone…won’t that rub Kurumiya’s nerves the wrong way?
With a glance at his teacher, who for some reason had still not moved an inch, not even to acknowledge Eiri’s words, Kyousuke took a timid step into the classroom.

Snap!
Like a desiccated bone, the stick of chalk in Kurumiya’s hand shattered.

“…I see. You’ve had your say. Yes, I understand very well.” Crushing the remaining chalk in her hand, Kurumiya turned to Kyousuke and Eiri, a faint smile adorning her cherubic face. “…And?” she demanded in a low, girlish voice. “Is that all you wanted to say?” In the opposite hand from the one that had crushed the chalk, she gripped her menacing iron pipe.