Hanzai Japan: Fantastical, Futuristic Stories of Crime From and About Japan (38 page)

In the center of this cavernous space sat a single chair at a single desk, and in that chair was Takumi. The transfer girl stood behind him, cradling her arms around his neck, just like she had been when I went to bring him his bento box lunch.

Takumi had his notebook open, and was jotting down notes from a blank chalkboard. My chain saw’s clamor was keeping cats on the other side of the schoolyard from napping, but Takumi didn’t seem to notice the sound.

My hands tightened around the grip until my fingers turned white. I stepped into the room.

Raising my voice above the machine roar, I said, “Get away from him.”

“And if I do, what then?” she said.

“I’ll kill Takumi.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll kill you.”

The girl gave me an exasperated shrug. “I never expected to encounter such resistance to altering the delicate state of this starting condition. This is the price I pay for underestimating you as a mere native of an undeveloped planet.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“We weren’t supposed to be enemies, you and I. I’m protecting your beloved man from assassins. But by being constantly at his side, you’d get in my way.”

“Are you moving, or aren’t you? Choose.”

I readied my chain saw, holding it level. The teeth rotated around the guide bar as rapidly as my heart was beating.

“Fine,” she said, her expression mocking me. It’s that same look from before, the one for the pitiful sewer rat that had come crawling out from a drainpipe to find itself on a subway platform. Blood rushed hotly up the base of my neck.

“Go on,” she said. “Do it if you can.”

She put her hands on Takumi’s waist, stood up, and thrust him at my chain saw. It happened in a flash. Propelled by her force, he staggered limply toward the blades. I looked to the steel teeth as they raced down the guide bar at forty-five miles per hour, their metal flashing as they caught the light, and I looked to Takumi’s face and its sleepwalker’s expression, and …

I can kill him right now.

Reflexively, I pulled back the chain saw.

The sharp metal grazed his shirt and left a tiny scratch in his skin. Dark red blood splashed from the tear. Most of it hit the linoleum floor, but a single drop landed on my clothing. This one single drop seemed more tragic than the sea of the stuff I’d already spilled. But with my uniform thoroughly soaked red, I couldn’t determine where his went, and something about that was utterly heartbreaking.

Takumi passed me and fell limply to the floor.

My hands trembled. I’d come all this way only to hesitate in killing him. After piling up all those dead bodies, I flinched at adding just one more. It was my purpose, my only purpose, that led me here, but I didn’t do it. How weak does that make me?

I looked down at Takumi and asked, “Don’t you have anything to say?”

He seemed a little confused. Lying on his side, he looked around the room, then finally up at me and my chain saw.

“I don’t really know what’s going on,” he said, “but if it’s your choice to kill me, that’s good enough for me.”

There was trust in his eyes. Not fright or dread, nor a hint of despair. He looked at me with unwavering trust.

And now, in this moment, I knew.

I couldn’t kill him.

I could carve up every human being on the face of this earth, but not Takumi. I can’t take his life. Takumi, my love, my love, I want you to live forever, even if I’m gone, even if you don’t love me, even if you give that smile to another woman.

My head drooped.

“I’m sorry,” I said, the words coming out on their own.

And I told myself I wouldn’t apologize. There’s something terribly wrong about refusing to apologize to the people I kill, and apologizing to the one I let live. But I really was sorry. If Takumi had never met me, he might have had a happy life, found a wife with perfect teeth, and been surrounded by disgustingly happy and cute children.

Because of me, his life was strewn with corpses. And yet I still couldn’t kill him. I’d caused all this mayhem only to abandon him in the absolute worst place and in the absolute worst way.

And she was just standing there with that calculated smile, watching us.

She knew. She knew I couldn’t kill Takumi. She pushed Takumi at me fully aware that I would pull back the chain saw. Tears streaming, I readied my weapon and said to her, “You, I’ll kill.”

I didn’t care how much he’d hate me for it. I could never forgive a girl who would push him into a chain saw. A girl like that had no right to love him.

She said, “I’d much rather you were the one to die.”

Takami called my name, but I told him to stay back.

“Die!” the girl cried, rushing toward me.

I swung my chain saw up.

Sparks flew, accompanied by a harsh metallic noise, like train wheels screeching against the tracks during an emergency stop. The girl deflected my chain saw with something like a metal pipe. I didn’t know where in that school uniform she had been hiding it, but I guess the kind of girl it takes to draw Takumi’s attention would be full of surprises.

Our weapons clashed two times, then a third. She seemed to know how to fight. Her footwork and stance were masterful.

But the advantage remained mine. No weapon exists on this earth superior to the chain saw. Its stainless steel teeth shred anything at the slightest touch. My opponent had to put force behind every thrust and slash, but all I had to do was make contact. A chain saw in skilled hands will overpower anything else in a close fight.

If she had really wanted to kill me, she should have blown up the entire school with a missile. She wouldn’t even need to be an alien or anything so wild to pull it off. The American and Japanese militaries have missiles; even terrorists have them. There are things of this world that she could use to take me down.

At least that way, Takumi and I would have died together. But no, she had to do it this way, and now she was going to regret it.

I pressed her with blows from above, from the side, from below, and followed with a flip. I swung the chain saw up in an arc and again we clashed among the flying sparks. Each time we met, I pushed her back a little farther.

I nearly had her cornered against the wall.

“With this body,” she said, “our abilities are too mismatched.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll become you. If I had done that at the beginning, there wouldn’t have been any trouble. Not with you, and not with him.”

Her shape began to change.

Her chest, rather large for high school, shrank, and her arms and legs shortened. Her spotless uniform became as blood-soaked as mine. Within ten seconds, this girl was a perfect replica of one Fumio Kirisaki, her too-pale ink-wash eyes staring back at me.

I froze in astonishment as the girl with my face extended her hand to me. Her fingertips caught the temples of my glasses, and she flung the bloodied things to the floor, where Takumi picked them up. The girl reached into some other space and retrieved a chain saw identical to mine.

Takumi looked up at us.

But we were both covered in blood, we both had the same face, and we both were sans glasses. Takumi didn’t seem to know to which of us he should return the pair.

The me who wasn’t me pulled on the starter rope and brought her chain saw to life, performing the operation with a skilled hand. Our two metal beasts roared. The classroom floor shuddered under the overwhelming noise.

The imposter said, “Now you die,” and swung her chain saw.

I immediately dodged back.

A battle between chain saw duelists is unlike any other. Whenever the guide bar’s tip strikes or catches on something solid, the chain saw’s force causes a kickback, suddenly turning the sharp cutting blades against their wielder. On the other hand, if the guide bar is struck from below, the chain saw kicks forward. The high-speed metal teeth are the chain saw’s greatest strength and simultaneously its greatest weakness; the key to victory lies in making contact where you expect to and where your opponent does not, thereby sending her off balance.

We swung our chain saws, pulling back the strikes just before the blades met. A single careless connection equals defeat. A single, fleeting lapse of concentration will not be pardoned.

Clang. Clang.

Sparks flew.

Her technique was expert. She was as good as me—or rather, exactly the same. She feinted from the upper right, only to switch into a horizontal spinning strike. It’s a move I came up with on my own. She’s not only a copy of my outer appearance, but everything inside as well.

Our skills were matched. Our bodies, matched. Our chain saws, matched. But I’d come from fighting my way through the school in a bloody battle. I’m merely a teenager, and I was at the limits of my stamina. The eighteen pounds of my chain saw grew heavy. My muscles ached and protested, and every joint in my body creaked. My lungs thirsted for oxygen, and my heart was about to explode.

But the enemy I faced was as fresh as a boxer who’s just heard the opening bell.

Her attacks began to surpass mine. My tired muscles responded just a little more slowly, and she steadily pressed me into an increasingly disadvantageous position. My feet moved ever backward, never forward. Once she got me against the wall, I’d be finished. I no longer had the strength to repel a fatal blow.

Desperately my mind worked.

She was different than me. She must be.

She had my power and my knowledge, but what did I have that she didn’t?

And in that moment, I saw Takumi.

Takumi stood, unmoving, in the same place he had fallen. The gash in his arm was painful to see. Surely by now he’d realized this girl’s true nature. She was no transfer student or anything like that, but something unknown. A thing that stole my body. But he wouldn’t be able to tell which was the real me by looks alone.

She was using Takumi, and nothing more. But I trusted in him. She and I both needed him, but I loved him. I could accept death if it were him killing me and not her.

An idea came to me.

I edged away from her, then broke into a sprint, putting Takumi between us. She and I circled clockwise around him. But this clock had no hour and minute hands; our chain saws were exactly the same length.

“Takumi!” I shouted, and he turned to me. “Don’t move a single step.”

If he dodged, I would lose.

I shifted from my circling pattern and ran toward her in a straight line. Takumi was between us. I saw the trust in his eyes. I swung the chain saw in an arc that would cut him clear in two, from between his legs straight up to the top of his head. From here, she couldn’t see my chain saw. The metal teeth growled, almost upon Takumi now.

She was already reacting, moving to intercept my attack. As I came around Takumi’s left, her weapon bore down at me, dead on target. With my heavy chain saw, I could never hope to dodge. The gleaming blades passed over my right arm, aiming to knock my weapon aside before she would deliver the killing blow.

But my chain saw wasn’t there. Her blades made a jingling sound as they caught the fabric of my collar.

I appeared,

from Takumi’s left,

and my chain saw appeared,

from Takumi’s right,

coming for her.

I slid my chain saw along Takumi’s body. The metal beast, drooling oil, pivoted around him in a mad dash to exactly where I wanted it to be.

Takumi didn’t move, and nothing ever made me happier. He didn’t flinch from those deadly blades. Had he moved one iota, the chain saw could have flown anywhere.

I extended my right arm. I didn’t have to look where to reach. The chain saw’s grip landed in my hand. Welcome home.

Her face distorted in astonishment. Mine was smirking.

“Wait!” she cried. “You’ve got it all wro—”

Too late.

Die.

The rotating blades dug into skin the same as my own. The hooklike teeth spaced every three-eighths of an inch tore her clothes, shredded her skin, carved her flesh, shattered her bones, drove all the way through and split her in two. Her face, identical to mine, stared back at me, her mouth in the shape of a scream and her eyes bulging.

That’s right, I thought. You’re the only person I could never forgive.

Before she fell, I pivoted my chain saw and matched the vertical cut with a horizontal one, splitting her into four pieces. The two top parts went flying, creating a starburst organ splatter on the wall. Her two legs wobbled, then fell in different directions. Amid the thick, bloody mist, I took in a deep breath and blacked out.

I woke up on the floor. Faces I recognize were looking down at me with concern. I scanned the crowd for Takumi, but he was not among them.

So this is Hell,
my mind told me through an exhausted haze. I wasn’t sure why all the classmates I’d killed were down here with me, but they each must have done something that sent them to hell. As long as Takumi hadn’t been brought here with me, I didn’t care if I was dropped into a pool of blood or thrown onto a mountain of thorns.

“Are you all right?” asked the teacher whose head I had lopped off first.

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say, but then I answered, “Yes.”

“Well done. We all owe you.”

He thanked me? Had I heard him wrong? Not, “You killed me, you piece of shit,” but, “Well done?” I suppose I did well by some measure, but those aren’t words that should be coming from a teacher I brutally murdered. What’s going on here?

I sat up and found that I was in the classroom. The desks were all cleared away, as they were when I killed the girl who had appropriated my body, and my classmates were all standing around.

I asked, “What happened to Takumi?”

One student pointed to a hole in the wall that looked like it had been punched out with a cookie cutter.

The hole offered a dazzlingly bright view of the outside. The punched-out concrete rested at an incline, along which blood droplets formed a dotted trail down toward the schoolyard’s center.

In the yard was a deep impression left where some massive object must have been only moments ago. I looked to the sky, and just barely caught a glimmer of light. In the blink of an eye, the thing vanished, not even leaving a contrail behind.