Murderer in the Flower of Death (3 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She— Eiri said it as though it were nothing.

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

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

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

“Hey, next in line! What’re you waiting for?!” Kurumiya’s irritated voice jolted the class back to attention. “Get to the podium on the double! Unless you wanna be disciplined?!”

There was a crash from somewhere behind and to the left of Kyousuke’s seat. “Eeee!! S-ssss-ssowwy! Owow…” A petite girl with short chestnut-colored hair made her way up the aisle, her slippers flapping audibly. “R-really sowwy……I was s-ssss-spaced out! Waaahh!” With an appearance reminiscent of a small, vulnerable animal and a childish, inarticulate way of speaking, the tiny girl seemed so shaken by Kurumiya’s angry tone that she barely made it to the lectern, tripping over herself several times in the process.

Her tear-soaked, flaxen-colored eyes wandered restlessly left and right, and she said, “A-ahm…well, it’s…ah…sorry for being born!” She bowed vigorously…and with an audible
whack!
threw her forehead into the flat wooden top of the podium.

The classroom fell silent again. The girl didn’t move, her forehead stuck where it had impacted, until finally: “Wa…wah…waaaaaaaah…” Her stiff body began to tremble, little by little.

Now see here, don’t cry
, thought Kyousuke, just as Kurumiya readied her iron pipe and said, “Go ahead and cry. Should I smash your stupid skull?” Her face was perfectly expressionless, her threatening voice low and dry.

The trembling girl’s body twitched with a noticeable start, and she raised her tear-streaked face. “I-I’b alweady…cwyinnng…sowwwyyy…
hic
.”

“Hmph.” Kurumiya’s cheek twitched. Kyousuke was sure it was over. Probably anyone would have thought the same. The girl let out a
small shriek, clearly at her wit’s end, and pressed her eyes closed, hard. “Hmm, well, I guess that’s that, eh?” Kurumiya sighed.

The iron pipe swung downward, slicing audibly through the air with bone-crushing force.

“Continue your self-introduction. You have one minute, forty-six seconds remaining.” The tip of the iron pipe had come to a stop just inches from crushing the small girl’s skull.

“……Wha—?” The girl opened her eyes a sliver to see that Kurumiya had already replaced the iron pipe back over her shoulder and fallen back half a step.

Facing the girl, whose eyes were still wide with terror, Kurumiya spoke again. “Heya, stupid! What do you think you’re doing, huh? Get on with it already! Don’t think that just ’cause you’re such a pip-squeak, you can test me.” Apparently Kurumiya felt some sympathy for the girl; maybe looking at her reminded the sadistic teacher of herself in some small way.

“Eh? Ah…y-yeeeeees!!” Wasting no more time, the small girl at the podium straightened her shoulders and raised her voice, speaking in a skittering lilt without pausing or breathing.

“Maina Igarashi, fourteen years old! My favorite foods are fluffy things and springy things and sweet things, and my least favorite foods are crunchy things and sticky things and bitter things—I meeeaaan—ah, um, what was it…o-oh yeah! The number of people you killed! I’ve killed…”

Tears filled the small girl’s—Maina’s—eyes once more. She bit her lip and continued in a shaky voice, “…Three people. But that was an accident…because I’m stupid. Because of me, everyone…” She’d begun to sob now in short, high-pitched shudders. “I didn’t kill them because I wanted to…
hic
…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m an idiot, I’m so sowwy…I didn’t say that right. I’m incompetent, but nice to meetchu…I didn’t say id wight agwain. Ah, I messed ub the mess ub!” Maina dejectedly returned to her desk, her tear-soaked face showing an awareness of profound sin.

Looking at Maina, who sobbed convulsively in her seat, Kyousuke
felt his heart lighten.
There is one, a decent person! Murder is murder, but…
The impression given by the first girl had been so jarring that he’d thought for sure that his classmates were nothing but deviants incapable of contemplating anything other than cold-blooded murder…but thinking it over, Kyousuke realized that there were probably a handful who’d committed crimes of passion.

Maina had said that it was an “accident.” She had said that she didn’t kill them because she wanted to. She seemed just like a normal schoolgirl, this young woman who had killed people through no intention of her own and who now trembled under the terrible weight of her crime. Why, if you took her out of this obscene circumstance…
Igarashi must also be uneasy in this place…that’s it!

Kyousuke resolved to try to talk with her as soon as possible. And if there were any other normal classmates, they could all form a group together and oppose dangerous people like Eiri. It seemed like the best idea he had.

“Okay, okay, next! There’s thirteen of you left, so let’s get on with it already!” Despite Kurumiya’s impatient tone, Kyousuke relaxed, letting some of the tension slip from his shoulders. He didn’t know how the next hour would go, but surprisingly, he thought he could manage.

…There was no way he would manage.

Two more classmates had given their self-introductions after Maina, and they very much belonged here. Kyousuke could feel his earlier sense of relief rapidly slipping away.

The first had been a small hunchbacked boy surrounded by an aura of melancholy who introduced himself as Kagerou Usami. Most of his face had been hidden by long, greasy bangs, and he’d mumbled in a low voice that made him difficult to understand. From what little Kyousuke had been able to make out, Usami had killed one person, but he’d mostly spent his time at the podium reciting strange names that Kyousuke didn’t recognize, like “Jeffrey Dahmer” and “Ed Gein.”
…Maybe they’re actors?
The strange hunchback oozed a curious grotesqueness, and Kyousuke made a note to avoid him as much as possible.

After Usami was a tall boy with dark skin who wore thick dreadlocks and sunglasses even indoors; Arata Oonogi, he’d said his name was, before proudly boasting about how he’d “broken up two lovebirds with his knife.” Nothing close to remorse had passed over his face as he’d recounted the murders: He didn’t even seem to be aware that he’d committed a crime. Another student that Kyousuke would have to try his best to avoid.

And after Oonogi…

“Next is the asshole in the very front row! Go on up!” Kyousuke’s turn had arrived. Swallowing audibly, he stood—fists clenched, brow dripping with sweat—and, trying to keep his body’s trembling in check, ascended to the podium. With a deep breath, he turned to face the room.

The scene was like something out of a hallucination…or a nightmare. Inside the graffiti-covered ruins of a high school classroom, arranged in four rows and four columns, the bizarre assortment of student criminals seemed even stranger and more threatening, and Kyousuke, who was accustomed to dealing with delinquents and thugs, couldn’t help but cringe.
No way…what are these people? Are there no decent ones after all?
He could feel every murderous eye in the room watching his every move, and it filled him with a deep sense of dread. He wanted to escape somehow, to run and not look back…but that wasn’t an option.
I’ve got to give it all I’ve got; I won’t back down from a bunch of low-life killers.

Gathering his mental fortitude, Kyousuke glared out across the class. “…Kyousuke Kamiya, fifteen years old. The number of people I killed is twe—” He hesitated. While he couldn’t admit that he’d never killed anyone, would confessing to the crime they’d falsely pinned on him really be a good idea?
No, I’ll just have to give a different number, something small, something believable. After all, the nail that sticks up gets the hammer.
Even in a place like this, it wouldn’t be a good idea to stand out.

“Um…the number of people I’ve killed is one. I didn’t use a weapon, I beat him to death with my bare hands—”

“You’re lyyyiiing,” Kurumiya interrupted. “You killed twelve people, didn’t you, Kamiya? Is our all-star murderer feeling modest about having
the highest kill count in the class
? Heh-heh-heh!”

Kyousuke didn’t have a reply. Just like that, his planned illusion had been shattered, swept away by the giggling schoolgirl teacher, who now grinned at him with sadistic glee.
I’ve “killed” more than anyone? I’m the head of a class of murderers?!

Staring at Kyousuke, who was rapidly turning an ashen shade of white, Kurumiya continued, the rest of the class murmuring while she twisted the knife, as though this were some ordinary schoolyard gossip that had nothing to do with mass murder.

“You locked twelve older boys in a warehouse, and then, using metal bats and chains and concrete blocks and anything else you could get your hands on, you totally slaughtered them, isn’t that right? I’ve met a lot of killers, but in all of Japan, there’s no one as atrocious as you! Why, on kill count alone, you’re ranked fifth in the history of the country! Second for most kills at once, just behind the ‘Tsuyama Thirty Massacre.’ And not only that, you didn’t even use a gun! You
beat
them to death with whatever was lying around! And to top it all off, you’re still a minor! How absolutely hellish! I bet you were planning on acting all mature and aloof, thinking you’d trick me right along with the rest of the class, eh? But so much for that idea, huh? That’s right…I promise here and now that I’m gonna beat that cowardly, cunning little mind of yours into shape!!”

That’s it… I’m done for!
Kyousuke could hear the whispers of his classmates.

“Who the hell is this guy, Kyousuke Kamiya…? He’s really horrible! Double digits? That’s too awful!!” “A mass murder? Twelve people at once? That’s crazy! What a frightful person! Ha-ha-ha…,” “H-hee-hee…the spurting body fluids, the gray matter flying around, the agonized death shrieks… Hee-hee-hee-hee…,” “Oh…scary…that’s scary…help me, Daddy…Mommy…get me out of here…,” and so on. Every voice, even those that mumbled incoherently, was filled with a mix of fear and admiration, intrigue and envy.

In perhaps the worst possible turn of events, Kyousuke had just gotten everyone’s attention. And there was no going back now.
Dammit! Now I’m a target for sure… After class, I bet, someone’s going to…
He hung his head, shoulders drooping, and returned to his seat in a gloomy mood.

As soon as he took his place, however, Kyousuke felt someone’s stare bore into him, and looking around, he saw the beautiful young woman and killer of six—Eiri—was looking him over with a piercing gaze.

Immediately, she averted her eyes, returning to her nail art.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.
There could be little doubt: Eiri Akabane was interested in him. Whether her strange hostility was born of curiosity or envy, Kyousuke couldn’t tell. Her drowsy gaze only seemed to sharpen when focused on him.

Those rust-red eyes, sharp like blades… Kyousuke’s skin prickled in horror, and for a moment, it felt as if a knife was lodged in his throat.
This is bad…really bad! Not just Eiri…everyone is looking at me!
As the self-introductions continued, Kyousuke wondered how many days he could survive.

“Hello, everyone. I’m the ‘Japanese Ted Bundy,’ Shinji Saotome. Heh-heh… I’m sure you all know who that is, right? Ted Bundy? He’s that peerless strangler from America, the murderer whom I admire and respect the most! And while I personally can’t compare with his marvelous thirty-person kill count…well, I
have
killed two people, both of them girls. I strangled them with my bare hands… I could feel it all between my fingers…especially their final, delicate breaths…