Chapter 3: Naguma Sawarabi (1)
The naginata.
It is a blade forged in the style of a traditional Japanese sword attached to the end of a long shaft. Depending on the length of the blade, it can be classified as either a larger “o-naginata” or a smaller “ko-naginata,” and depending on its shape, it can be further divided into the categories of the thinner “shizuka” model or the more curved “tomoe” model.
As a sword art, it is nowhere near as widely known as kendo (or similarly, iaido or battodo), but as is the case with so many things in the world, reputation and merit do not always go hand in hand.
The point worth mentioning first is the width of its range. Perhaps due to its larger number of female practitioners, naginata-wielding is often perceived as a defensive martial art—as a an art of self-defense that redirects an opponent’s attack momentum, much like aikido or Shorinji Kempo—but that is a mere misconception, and in reality, there are a great deal of more aggressive naginata techniques. Given that it comes from the same family of long-handled weapons as the spear and the nagamaki, there is no need to get close to the enemy in the first place, allowing the wielder to safely attack from somewhere the enemy’s blade can’t reach. On top of that, the power the weapon itself holds is nothing to be scoffed at. Even when wielded by the most powerless of people, by making use of the principle of leverage and centrifugal force, the strike of a naginata can easily break through a poorly made blade or a more brittle plate of armor.
Many of its techniques were developed with one-versus-many situations in mind, making it an incredibly practical martial art—or so one would think, but in practice, naginata wielders are seldom encountered. The long handle is a bit too conspicuous, and the weapon is far from convenient to carry around. Anywhere outside of battle, the blade becomes a nuisance—perhaps that would be another way of putting it.
As such.
When it came to the Twentieth Hell, Mind Render, Soushiki Zerozaki—this was the first time in his life he would face off against a naginata user.
“Iori-chan! Big brother came to save you!”
“Would you please stop that?!” Iori yelled, instantly crawling backwards into the furthest corner of the room. She kept an equal amount of distant from both Naguma and Soushiki. “Oh, come on, I’ve had enough of this!”
She had no idea why things had turned out this way. Where had she gone wrong to end up in a situation like this? After nearly getting killed by a classmate, she had accidentally killed him back, then the moment she decided to turn herself in, a weird wireframe man had shown up and dealt the final blow to said classmate, who it turned out wasn’t really dead after all, and then after she ran home in a panic, she had found a naginata-wielding man dressed for the wrong era eating at her own dinner table, and then the naginata man, who had apparently murdered her whole family, tried to kill her, only to be stopped by six severed heads flying in from the balcony together with a pervert who had come to rescue her.
What kind of messed up plot summary was that?
“F-For starters, how did you get in from the balcony?! This is the tenth floor! What, did you climb up the side of the building carrying six severed heads?!”
“Hm?” Soushiki paused the rotation of his scissors. “Oh, that. I climbed over from your neighbor’s balcony. They weren’t home, you see.”
It was a very pragmatic answer.
“T-Then, uh, umm, Soushiki-san, how did you know this is where I live?!”
“It was all the work of sibling love. If it’s for the sake of his dear little sister, there’s nothing a big brother can’t do.” Soushiki flashed a stylish grin. “Or, to be more specific, I snatched your student ID from the breast pocket of your uniform while we were grappling under the bridge.”
“That’s just plain old pick pocketing!”
Not only was he a murderer and a pervert, but he was a bold-faced liar, too.
Iori stood up and tried to put even more distance between her and the two men, but there was nowhere left to run. After a bit of deliberation, she decided to move closer to Naguma. Between a mystery enemy and a mystery ally, the latter seemed vaguely more troubling.
“For the record, I shadowed you on your way home and went on ahead while you were loitering outside the apartment building,” chimed in Naguma. His naginata was still pointed at Soushiki, but composure had begun to return to his expression. “Impressive, Mind Render. A mere six ‘puppets’ weren’t enough to pose a threat to you, I see.”
Then, Naguma swung his naginata through the air. All the things in the range of his weapon—the furniture, the table, the chairs, the television, the sofa, and even the six severed heads that had been carelessly strewn about—were smashed to bits and sent flying, leaving a wide, empty space around him. That move sure would come in handy during spring cleaning, Iori thought, but of course, spring cleaning was currently the least of anyone’s worries. Naguma commented, “You really don’t have any mercy,” as he gave a sidelong glance to the human heads that been scattered into various corners of the room.
“You knew full well, didn’t you, Mr. Mind Render? Whether it be that man on the train, or the owners of these six heads—you realized that they were all just ‘Marionettes,’ didn’t you? I sincerely doubt you wouldn’t be able to see through something so simple. You are a Zerozaki, one way or another.”
“…”
Soushiki met Naguma’s words with silence, but that wasn’t something Iori could keep quiet about. Mustering up all her courage, she asked the both of them, “W-What does that… mean?”
After all.
Whatever they were saying likely held true for the boy who had pointed a knife at her…
For Yasumichi Kagawa, as well.
“To put it simply, Iori-chan,”—the one to answer was Soushiki—”they were all the unfortunate victims of a hypnotic spell!”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to catch the last train.”
Iori turned to leave for the hallway, but Soushiki hastily blurted out, “Ah, wait, wait, wait, wait!” and managed to hold her back.
“What are you talking about, Iori-chan? This is your own home. Where exactly are you planning to take that train?”
“I’m going to transfer between the JR and Hankyu lines at just the right time and make myself an alibi.”
“I fail to see how that’s going to help here.”
“Nobody would buy ‘hypnosis’ as an explanation these days!” Iori shook her head furiously. Hypnotic suggestion. She doubted a scenario like that would have flown with an audience even ten years earlier. “The severed heads were already ridiculous enough… God, I think I’m starting to cry.”
“If ‘hypnosis’ isn’t the best term to use, then just think of it as brainwashing. Say, Iori-chan.” Soushiki took a step off the balcony and into the room. “This is just a hypothetical situation, but let’s say a person is locked inside a tiny room in a basement and subjected to some kind of indoctrination every single day for a month. Don’t you think it would be possible to completely remold their sense of values and morals? It doesn’t take all that much time or effort to turn a person into a puppet. Perhaps it would be easiest explained by using the crafty techniques employed by religious cults as an example.”
“…”
“The world is filled with all sorts of cunning, nefarious organizations. It should come as no surprise that there’s a circle specialized in brainwashing among them. They call it ‘Mind Manipulation,’ but to be quite frank, it’s not something very pleasant to hear about. The nastiest part of it is that it infringes on a person’s innermost personality. It’s hard to get more wicked than that. My heart goes out to the victims, really. I have nothing but the utmost sympathy for those poor, manipulated puppets.”
“This, coming from the man who killed every last one of them?” Naguma sneered. “And if we’re going to call people wicked—then you of the Zerozaki Family are far, far worse. Even among the seven ‘Killing Names,’ the only two families that outclass you lot are the Niounomiya and the Yamiguchi.”
Zerozaki—
There it was again.
Iori tilted her head to the side in puzzlement.
What in the world were the Zerozaki?
“You see, Iori-chan,” Soushiki spoke, perhaps having noticed Iori’s expression, “the Zerozaki are what you could call a group of psycho killers. Bandits form gangs and pirates form crews, yes? It’s the same idea. If I were to put it in more modern terms—yes, perhaps we’d be along the lines of a mafia family.”
His scissors rang out with a snap.
“And I am the oldest son of the Family—Soushiki Zerozaki. It is the duty of the eldest brother to protect his siblings—and so, my young naginata user. For the sake of protecting my brand new sister, I, the Twentieth Hell, will serve as your opponent.”
“…I see.”
One step at a time, the two men began to close the distance between them.
“Now I get it. I finally understand, Mr. Mind Render. You were in the process of inviting this girl—Iori-san—to be part of your family, weren’t you?”
“Inviting me…?”
His little sister—is that what he had meant when he said that? Iori glanced over at Soushiki, but Soushiki was no longer looking her way. The two men had already drawn fairly close to one another—and while they were still too far apart for Soushiki’s scissors to come close to reaching Naguma, Soushiki was mere steps away from entering Naguma’s range of attack.
“But it’s rather ironic, really… I suppose this means those Marionettes played a hand in the awakening of a new Zerozaki. The awakening of a Zerozaki—an event even more precious than witnessing a sea turtle laying its eggs. And even if it weren’t, a female Zerozaki is already plenty of a rarity on its own…”
“…Hmm.”
At that, for some reason or another, Soushiki slipped his scissors back into his suit. Naguma frowned in suspicion, but didn’t lower his naginata from its middle stance position. Soushiki, on the other hand, remained as composed as ever. It was hard to say whether it was part of his strategy or just his natural state of being, but he had yet to show a single crack in the self-assured way he carried himself.
“You don’t seem to be a puppet yourself, my dear naginata user, so would you mind sharing your name?”
“It’s Naguma Sawarabi… but don’t disappoint me like this, Mr. Mind Render,” said Naguma. “If you call a truce now, my dramatic entrance will go to waste. Things would end before I got the chance to flaunt a single one of my charms.”
“A truce? I wouldn’t ask for that. I’m sure there’s no point in negotiating with you, anyway—but ‘Sawarabi,’ hm? Yes, I believe I’ve heard that name before.” Soushiki chuckled. “Well then, Naguma-kun. Being the ignorant man that I am, I don’t know very much about that weapon of yours—that naginata, as it’s called—but I’m quite sure it’s not meant to be wielded in such a cramped room. I hate to put your clean-up job to waste, but how about it? Why don’t we move to a stage where we can both fight to the best of our abilities?”
“…I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.”
“I like my fights fair and square,” responded Soushiki. “I prefer a fair competition adhering to a strict rule set over a no-holds-barred match. …Or, I suppose, it just wouldn’t sit well with me if I trounced you here and now. If I beat you with ‘cowardly’ tactics, it would weigh heavily on my conscience later. My three most hated words are ‘dishonesty,’ ‘irresponsibility,’ and ‘heartlessness’; I always aim to be amiable to others, whether it’s someone I’m sending to their death or someone I’m fighting to the death. Hey, Iori-chan?”
“Y-Yes?”
“Is the roof of this building accessible?”
“Huh? Ah, mm—yeah.”
Iori gave a flustered response. She couldn’t keep up with anything that was happening. This was her own home, yet somewhere along the line, she had been left in the dust. Hey, wait, are these two planning to have a duel or something? How did we get to that point? The entire situation had transcended the limits of her understanding.
“I-It’s accessible, yes. When the weather’s nice, I oft like to lay out a blanket and do some sunbathing.”
“That sounds lovely. Yes. It has absolutely nothing to do with what’s going on right now, but that was a very charming anecdote. Well then, Naguma-kun.” Soushiki pointed his index finger at the ceiling. “Why don’t we settle this on the roof? It’ll be a fight to the top, as they say.”
That wasn’t what “fight to the top” actually meant.
“…I…”
Tentatively—Naguma relaxed his stance. However, he showed no further signs of lowering his guard, instead fixing Soushiki with a sharp glare.
“Whenever an opponent proposes something like that, I always have to wonder what they’re scheming. But still—I suppose there’s no point in trying to figure out what a Zerozaki is thinking in the first place.”
“Fair enough. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve left someone perplexed.”
“…Very well. I’ll go on ahead.”
Naguma swung his naginata through the air one more time, slung its handle over his right shoulder, and headed outside. After he had slipped past Soushiki and stepped out onto the balcony, lowering his naginata so it fit under the door frame—he looked back over his shoulder at Iori.
Their eyes met.
Naguma’s eyes and Iori’s eyes met.
Iori instinctively straightened up—however, Naguma didn’t say anything. All he did was smile. It wasn’t the same provocative smile he had shown her earlier, nor was it a smug smile of superiority; it was, how to put it…
A smile of pity.
The look on his face left Iori bewildered.
Why…?
Why would I… be getting a look of sympathy from a man like him…?
And then.
Naguma jumped from the balcony and disappeared.
“Huh? W-What?! D-Did he just jump off the building?!”
“No, he jumped on top of it.”
As he spoke, Soushiki drew closer to Iori. Iori pretended to move towards the balcony, then used that chance to run away. “Goodness,” sighed Soushiki with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Civilized people really ought to use the stairs. Quite impatient, that one. He almost reminds me of Ukyounosuke Okuda.[1] You know, ‘Don’t make a fuss!’ and all that. Do you know what that’s a reference to, Iori-chan?”
“I don’t know anything anymore…”
“You don’t know, hm? …Then would you like a more thorough explanation?”
While he said that, Soushiki made a show of turning the other way—only to then leap backwards with his back still turned to Iori, landing right next to her.
No escaping that one.
“A-An explanation…?”
“I don’t understand the full situation myself, but I’ve figured out enough to give a basic summary of what’s going on. Including what those puppets are,” he said, surveying the mess that had been made of the room. “But ‘Sawarabi,’ hm…? They’re a branch family of the Niounomiya. This is about the time they’d be undergoing generational turnover, so… yes, if I remember correctly, they were a set of three siblings. Mmmm…”
Soushiki pressed his finger against his forehead, as if he were trying to remember something.
“…A sword-wielding older brother, a naginata-wielding middle brother, and a bow-wielding younger sister—yes, I believe that was it. I don’t remember much else about them, but I suppose that means we have the middle child on our hands.”
“Uh, no, I don’t really care about his background or anything,” Iori responded, while slowly shuffling backwards. “Why did he show up at my house? No, not only that; going off the conversation just now, even Yasuchi’s attempt to kill me was his fault—or his responsibility, I guess, or something like that…”
“Do you want a full explanation?”
“…Umm…”
In all truth, that question gave her pause.
Right then, all Iori could think about—or rather, all Iori wanted—was one thing.
She didn’t want to get involved.
She wanted to escape.
She wanted to run away somewhere.
Duel or kill each other all you like, but do it away from me. Naginata or scissors, I don’t care—as long as you swing them down somewhere I can’t see.
Please, just leave me out of it.
“…But still…”
But still—unfortunately for her.
As things stood—in that particular moment, Iori wasn’t some bystander who had been dragged into someone else’s affair—that wasn’t the position she was in. She hadn’t gotten mixed up in anything, nor was she suffering the after-effects of some major incident. If there was anyone who fit that description, it would be Yasumichi Kagawa—or perhaps her father, mother, sister, or brother.
Unfortunately for her.
Iori Mutou was the protagonist of this story.
“…I do. I want an explanation.”
“Hehehe, well said. That’s a nice look in your eyes, and that’s some nice resolve.” Soushiki laughed, amused. “It’s resolve befitting a Zerozaki, one forsaken by the world.”
“…”
For a moment, Iori and Soushiki simply glared at one another.
No—rather than glaring, it was as though they were staring into each other’s eyes.
The psycho killer and the novice murderer stood face-to-face.
“In that case, turn your back to me, Iori-chan.”
“…Like this?”
“Put your hands together behind your back.”
“…Like this?”
“Say, Iori-chan.”
“Yes?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re not very bright?”
In the same instant, Iori felt something bind her wrists together. The feeling of her shoulders being yanked backwards threw her off balance, and Soushiki used that opportunity to kick her feet out from under her, sending her sprawling across the floor that Naguma had cleaned up earlier. As her hands were tied behind her back, she was unable to break her own fall, and her shoulders took the full brunt of the impact.
“Those aren’t handcuffs. I used a special type of elastic string. Well, I say ‘elastic,’ but it can’t be stretched or contracted with human strength.” Soushiki spread his hands in a self-effacing manner. “I could cut it with my Mind Render if I truly wanted to, but it would damage the blade, so I would rather avoid that. In any case, it can’t be undone by any of the usual methods, so I recommend you be a smart little cookie and give up now.”
“W-What are you doing?!”
“I’m tying up my little sister.”
“Pervert! Pervert!”
“Relax, I’m not planning to take advantage of you. That would be incest, you know, and incest is wrong. That elastic string is a just a stop-gap measure. As long as you have those on, you won’t needlessly kill anyone. I’m not doing this to be mean, alright? I hope you won’t misunderstand.” Soushiki gave an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. “I find your overwhelming disposition to be a tad bit dangerous; I’m actually a bit scared, you know, so go easy on me. Well, either way, it would be safest to seal your hands until you learn to control your impulses. We may be psycho killers, but it would be a real headache if we all went around killing people nonstop.”
“W-What do you mean, ‘disposition’?! I just stabbed him in a daze! I didn’t do it on purpose!”
“The problem isn’t that you killed him. The way you killed him isn’t the problem, either. It’s not even about whether or not you had killing intent. The one and only problem here, Iori-chan, is the fact that you’re someone capable of murder. I said I would give you an explanation, but honestly, I’d like you to tell me. How did you manage to immerse yourself in regular society for all these years? Even my little brother only managed to stay part of it until he graduated middle school.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Yes, I’m sure. Of course, of course. Pardon me, I’m going to do your legs now. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t look up your skirt.”
While he spoke in a placating tone, Soushiki lifted up Iori’s ankles as she groveled on the floor, tying them together with the same elastic string he had used to bind her wrists. Then, he used one last length of string to link the elastic around her wrists and the elastic around her legs together. With that, Iori was left completely paralyzed.
“Now then, just sit tight, Iori-chan. I’m going to go fight Naguma-kun. I’ll be right back, so you don’t have to worry; everything will be just fine.”
“I’m not fine! Worry a little more about me, would you?!”
“Iori-chan.”
Soushiki lowered his voice.
More slender and more pointed than she had seen them yet, the eyes beyond those glasses fixed themselves on Iori.
“From now on, you have no choice but to keep on killing. If you want to keep living, that is. You no longer have the options of ‘kill’ or ‘don’t kill.’ ‘Kill’—that’s all you have. You can only ‘kill,’ Iori-chan. To be unable to consider anything but ‘not killing’ is unhealthy, but the inverse is utterly beyond help. Such is the case for me, and such is the case for my little brother. It’s not that we can only think about killing; it’s that killing is a given. It’s a precondition. Whether it’s a friend or a lover, it doesn’t matter. Once we expose our disposition, there’s no turning back. A person who can run 100 meters in 10 seconds can’t be anything but a person who can run 100 meters in 10 seconds. Once they’ve started running, they can’t take 20 seconds to cover that distance. Those who get a perfect score on an exam don’t get that score because they choose to; they don’t know how to get any other score. It’s not so hard for someone who would get 0 points to get 10 points. But it’s impossible for someone who would get 100 points to get 90 points.”
“…”
“To be a psycho killer is to be alone. Those who kill others are intrinsically isolated. Utterly isolated. You can’t have friends. You won’t meet a kindred spirit. You’ll never find a lover. You can’t even hope for a friendly rival. You’ll never meet a confidant who can share in your suffering, nor will you have a mentor who can show you the way. You’re completely on your own, companionless and lonesome and miserable. Do you know what true loneliness is, Iori-chan?”
“…”
Iori couldn’t answer.
“To be truly alone means that it makes no difference whether or not you’re there. It’s a denial of one’s existence. It’s a denial of one’s way of being. And that—is something very sad. To be by yourself and to be alone are two completely different things. We want a friend who will play with us. We want a kindred spirit who will stay with us. We want a partner who will love us. We want a rival who will compete with us. We want a confidant who will understand us, and we want a mentor who will help us. We don’t want to be alone.”
“…”
“And that’s why we formed a pack—a family. That’s how the Zerozaki Family began. We’re fundamentally different from the Niounomiya and the Yamiguchi.”
The Zerozaki—Family.
An older brother. A little brother. A little sister—a Family.
A family.
“You look like you don’t quite understand. That’s fine. I’m not trying to tell you to abandon all hope. There’s even some chance that everything I’ve said so far was wrong, and you can still turn back. At this point in time, you’re still just ‘an upstanding citizen who acted in self-defense.’ I’m the one who killed Yasuchi, so from an objective point of view, there should be plenty of leeway for you to return to ‘that’ world. And that, my dear, is precisely why I’m tying you up. To leave you a bit of hope—to leave you a few options—for the future. Either way—no matter how things turn out in the end… it’s for your own good.”
“F-For my own… good?”
“I said this before—but I truly don’t understand. I have no idea how you were able to suppress such an immense disposition until you turned seventeen. If you told me you’d killed a thousand people in your lifetime, I wouldn’t bat an eyelash, but the fact that you haven’t killed a single one is downright bizarre. Even this time around—if you hadn’t been attacked by that puppet, you probably wouldn’t have killed anyone. To borrow Naguma-kun’s words, it is indeed a bit ‘ironic,’ but—there’s a very high likelihood that you wouldn’t have ‘awakened’ at all. Do you know what that means?”
“I-I don’t.”
“Yes, I don’t know either. In that case, allow me to formulate a hypothesis,” continued Soushiki, his tone rather grave. “…You are an impossible possibility. A rather unique possibility. The possibility of a psycho killer who isn’t alone—or perhaps not a ‘possibility,’ but a ‘hope.’ You still haven’t taken the exam. There’s no telling if you would get a 0 or a perfect score. No one knows what’s going to become of you from now on—and that’s where the hope lies. As such, I will do everything in my power to cover for you—as your older brother within the Zerozaki. Don’t worry; your brother is a reliable man.”
With that, Soushiki turned his back to Iori and headed for the front door. Evidently, he didn’t plan to imitate Naguma’s reckless jump from the balcony.
“…”
Back then—Soushiki had said this: “‘Someone is sure to show up at a turning point in my life’—the thought goes beyond arrogant and becomes downright laughable.” He had claimed that a hero wasn’t going to swoop in at just the right moment to save her from her crisis.
And yet.
Wasn’t what he was doing now—exactly that? She had received only snippets of an explanation, so Iori still couldn’t comprehend what was going on—but she had felt something when she first met him. And she had felt it again when he made his gallant entrance from the balcony.
Relief.
Her heart—was at peace.
Even now, he was leaving to go face off against Naguma. Wasn’t it safe to say that he was doing that for her? Just as she had thought earlier, this incident hadn’t begun when she ran into Soushiki. There was even a chance, perhaps, that this had all begun a long, long time ago, and Soushiki had only shown up much later. One could even say that he was the one who had been dragged into this mess. And when she thought about it, he had yet to do any harm to her; on the contrary, he had saved her life twice.
In that case…
Perhaps he was telling the truth, and the bindings really were to protect her.
Such went Iori’s thought process.
And once she thought that, there was nothing left she could say.
“Oh, right.”
After he had opened the front door, Soushiki looked back over his shoulder.
“In my own personal opinion, wearing spats underneath a skirt is an abomination, Iori-chan.”
“You were totally looking!”
Naguma Sawarabi was not ignorant to the terror of the Zerozaki Family; on the contrary, he was someone who had learned of that terror firsthand. If he was to go up against the Twentieth Hell, Soushiki Zerozaki the decapitator, he wasn’t foolish enough to take that opponent lightly. Needless to say, he had not lowered his guard against Soushiki Zerozaki even once so far—nor had he done so against Iori Mutou, at that. His flippancy and his frivolity, his composure and his agitation, and even the brief show of irritation he had made before Iori were nothing more or less than cards Naguma held in his hand, and none of them made up who Naguma Sawarabi was as a person.
And…
Naguma Sawarabi’s most powerful card was his naginata.
So long as he had that weapon of his, he was perfectly capable of holding his own against even Soushiki Zerozaki—so believed Naguma. No matter who he was fighting—with the sole exception of his own brother—he knew it was impossible for anyone to break through his defenses. That went doubly for the weapon Soushiki had brandished moments earlier, Mind Render—that pair of scissors with a range of attack equal to that of a knife, or possibly even shorter. No matter how abnormally long Soushiki’s reach was, it wouldn’t be enough to slip past Naguma’s naginata and get to his body. If they had proceeded with their knockdown drag-out match in that cramped room, he would have been at a bit of a disadvantage, but now that the stage had been moved to this wide open rooftop, he had a clear shot at victory against even the Twentieth Hell. A shot at victory that he was fairly confident of, in fact. That was the degree to which Naguma Sawarabi considered his naginata to be an absolute.
That conviction was strong enough to be called a belief.
Naguma placed more faith in his weapon than he placed even in himself.
“You know—if things go well, I might be able to put an end to this here and now, Brother…”
Naguma whispered that to himself—and then swung his naginata through the air, pointing its blade at the entrance to the roof. In the same moment, the door opened, and a man who looked much like a wireframe model, with a lean body and unusually long arms and legs—
A psycho killer entered the scene.
He was already prepared for battle, his scissors held at the ready.
There was something about him reminiscent of a demon—so thought Naguma.
It had been the same earlier. It had been like that all this time.
Somehow—it didn’t feel like he was facing off against another human. When Soushiki had swooped in from the balcony with no warning—and when Iori had pointed the tip of her fork at him, too.
And.
The very first time he and his sister had confronted a Zerozaki…
He had it felt it then, too.
It didn’t feel the slightest bit like he was facing off against another human.
He recognized that sensation.
Indeed, it was—the sensation of something inhuman.
Something beyond comprehension.
Neither strong nor weak…
Simply, truly something beyond comprehension.
A completely different kind of something than he was.
Standing before him—was something impossible.
He was facing off against something impossible.
He couldn’t help but get that feeling.
“Did I keep you waiting, Naguma-kun?”
The inhuman thing called out to him.
He was walking over briskly, failing to show the slightest bit of caution. The moment Naguma moved his naginata into the middle stance position, Soushiki finally stopped where he stood and chuckled.
“It’s a bit funny, don’t you think?”
“…What is?”
“Oh, you know… Just think about it. Two grown men in a quiet country town, standing on the roof of a perfectly ordinary, peaceful apartment building, getting ready to kill each other the moment their eyes meet. And with scissors and a naginata, at that. If I were a swordsman instead, perhaps this would make for a prettier picture.”
“…You certainly are confident, Mr. Mind Render.”
“By the way, why are you dressed so strangely?” Without even bothering to shrug in response, Soushiki simply pointed at Naguma’s clothing. “If you go around looking like that, you’re bound to get arrested in no time. Oh, no, I don’t mean to disrespect the Japanese style. I simply don’t understand. Why would you go so far—clothing yourself in a hakama and training gi, donning Japanese-style glasses, tying back your hair with a headband and wearing zori sandals, even making a naginata your weapon… Why would you go so far out of your way to stray from what’s ‘ordinary’ and ‘natural’?”
“What are you talking about?”
“To be perfectly frank, I rather despise you. Even setting aside what you did to my sister, to see someone take the one thing I want more than anything in the world and so casually cast it aside—even if it’s no business of mine, even if it’s someone else’s problem, it still makes me angry.” Soushiki hung his head. “If you witnessed a child drowning, even though it’s no business of yours, even though it’s someone else’s problem, you would still feel compelled to save them, wouldn’t you? It’s the same sort of feeling. But you’re not a Zerozaki, so I’m sure you would never understand.”
“…You didn’t come here to start an argument, did you, Mind Render? Let’s just begin. I should be able to settle this within five minutes.”
“Goodness, what confidence. You could probably call it ‘blind faith,’ at this point. Mm, how lovely. Heheh, heheheh, how lovely, how lovely,” said Soushiki, once again moving his legs in Naguma’s direction. “In that case, I hope you’ll give me a good workout. Whenever you feel like running away, do feel free; there’s no shame in that, and it will spare me from sullying my weapon any further. If I go around cutting apart six or seven people in a single day, even Mind Render here won’t hold up for another two years.”
“…Don’t you think you’re taking the name ‘Sawarabi’ a bit too lightly, Mr. Mind Render?”
Given Soushiki’s patronizing—no, downright insulting—choice of words, it was no surprise that Naguma argued back with a face twisted in displeasure. Soushiki was just one step—just another half of a step away from entering Naguma’s sphere. Conversely, Naguma still had plenty more room before he came within range of Soushiki’s Mind Render. By anyone’s measure—he was the one with an overwhelming advantage.
“Taking it too lightly, hm? I believe I’m giving it just the right amount of credit. Did I say something hurtful? If so, I won’t hesitate to apologize.”
“…Sure, we aren’t particularly famous compared to the Zerozaki or the rest of the seven Killing Names, including the main family of the Niounomiya… but reputation and merit don’t always go hand in hand. Such is the case with this naginata, for instance.”
“Allow me to correct a misunderstanding of yours.”
Just one step outside of Naguma’s field of attack, Soushiki once again stopped where he stood. It seemed he could clearly perceive the extent of the naginata’s range.
“You just mentioned the seven Killing Names—but in my own personal opinion, I’d prefer the name ‘Zerozaki’ not be listed with the rest of them. The Niounomiya are ‘hitmen,’ and the Yamiguchi are ‘assassins.’ The Susukino are ‘fixers,’ the Hakamori are ‘butchers,’ the Tenbuki are ‘custodians,’ and once we’ve reached the Ishinagi, we even have ‘reapers.’ Every last one of them is a group of ‘evil’doers, repulsive and terrifying to a hair-raising degree. …But Naguma-kun. We of the Zerozaki Family are not any of those things—we’re ‘psycho killers.’ We exist on an entirely different plane from the rest of you lot. I’m not particularly pleased to be grouped together with those who kill or don’t kill depending on the situation, and I’m sure it’s not particularly pleasant for you, either. Killing may be a job to you all—but to us Zerozaki, it’s a way of life.”
“…!”
“Well then.”
Soushiki Zerozaki…
The Twentieth Hell…
Suicidal Thoughts…
“Let us begin the Zerozaki.”
…stepped into Naguma Sawarabi’s field without the slightest bit of hesitation.
(Naguma Sawarabi—Commencing examination) (Chapter 3—The End)
————————————————————
[1] Reference to a naginata-wielding character from Sure Death 4: Revenge, a 1987 Japanese film. “Don’t start a fuss!” is one of the character’s famous lines.
Chapter 3: Naguma Sawarabi (1)
The naginata.
It is a blade forged in the style of a traditional Japanese sword attached to the end of a long shaft. Depending on the length of the blade, it can be classified as either a larger “o-naginata” or a smaller “ko-naginata,” and depending on its shape, it can be further divided into the categories of the thinner “shizuka” model or the more curved “tomoe” model.
As a sword art, it is nowhere near as widely known as kendo (or similarly, iaido or battodo), but as is the case with so many things in the world, reputation and merit do not always go hand in hand.
The point worth mentioning first is the width of its range. Perhaps due to its larger number of female practitioners, naginata-wielding is often perceived as a defensive martial art—as a an art of self-defense that redirects an opponent’s attack momentum, much like aikido or Shorinji Kempo—but that is a mere misconception, and in reality, there are a great deal of more aggressive naginata techniques. Given that it comes from the same family of long-handled weapons as the spear and the nagamaki, there is no need to get close to the enemy in the first place, allowing the wielder to safely attack from somewhere the enemy’s blade can’t reach. On top of that, the power the weapon itself holds is nothing to be scoffed at. Even when wielded by the most powerless of people, by making use of the principle of leverage and centrifugal force, the strike of a naginata can easily break through a poorly made blade or a more brittle plate of armor.
Many of its techniques were developed with one-versus-many situations in mind, making it an incredibly practical martial art—or so one would think, but in practice, naginata wielders are seldom encountered. The long handle is a bit too conspicuous, and the weapon is far from convenient to carry around. Anywhere outside of battle, the blade becomes a nuisance—perhaps that would be another way of putting it.
As such.
When it came to the Twentieth Hell, Mind Render, Soushiki Zerozaki—this was the first time in his life he would face off against a naginata user.
“Iori-chan! Big brother came to save you!”
“Would you please stop that?!” Iori yelled, instantly crawling backwards into the furthest corner of the room. She kept an equal amount of distant from both Naguma and Soushiki. “Oh, come on, I’ve had enough of this!”
She had no idea why things had turned out this way. Where had she gone wrong to end up in a situation like this? After nearly getting killed by a classmate, she had accidentally killed him back, then the moment she decided to turn herself in, a weird wireframe man had shown up and dealt the final blow to said classmate, who it turned out wasn’t really dead after all, and then after she ran home in a panic, she had found a naginata-wielding man dressed for the wrong era eating at her own dinner table, and then the naginata man, who had apparently murdered her whole family, tried to kill her, only to be stopped by six severed heads flying in from the balcony together with a pervert who had come to rescue her.
What kind of messed up plot summary was that?
“F-For starters, how did you get in from the balcony?! This is the tenth floor! What, did you climb up the side of the building carrying six severed heads?!”
“Hm?” Soushiki paused the rotation of his scissors. “Oh, that. I climbed over from your neighbor’s balcony. They weren’t home, you see.”
It was a very pragmatic answer.
“T-Then, uh, umm, Soushiki-san, how did you know this is where I live?!”
“It was all the work of sibling love. If it’s for the sake of his dear little sister, there’s nothing a big brother can’t do.” Soushiki flashed a stylish grin. “Or, to be more specific, I snatched your student ID from the breast pocket of your uniform while we were grappling under the bridge.”
“That’s just plain old pick pocketing!”
Not only was he a murderer and a pervert, but he was a bold-faced liar, too.
Iori stood up and tried to put even more distance between her and the two men, but there was nowhere left to run. After a bit of deliberation, she decided to move closer to Naguma. Between a mystery enemy and a mystery ally, the latter seemed vaguely more troubling.
“For the record, I shadowed you on your way home and went on ahead while you were loitering outside the apartment building,” chimed in Naguma. His naginata was still pointed at Soushiki, but composure had begun to return to his expression. “Impressive, Mind Render. A mere six ‘puppets’ weren’t enough to pose a threat to you, I see.”
Then, Naguma swung his naginata through the air. All the things in the range of his weapon—the furniture, the table, the chairs, the television, the sofa, and even the six severed heads that had been carelessly strewn about—were smashed to bits and sent flying, leaving a wide, empty space around him. That move sure would come in handy during spring cleaning, Iori thought, but of course, spring cleaning was currently the least of anyone’s worries. Naguma commented, “You really don’t have any mercy,” as he gave a sidelong glance to the human heads that been scattered into various corners of the room.
“You knew full well, didn’t you, Mr. Mind Render? Whether it be that man on the train, or the owners of these six heads—you realized that they were all just ‘Marionettes,’ didn’t you? I sincerely doubt you wouldn’t be able to see through something so simple. You are a Zerozaki, one way or another.”
“…”
Soushiki met Naguma’s words with silence, but that wasn’t something Iori could keep quiet about. Mustering up all her courage, she asked the both of them, “W-What does that… mean?”
After all.
Whatever they were saying likely held true for the boy who had pointed a knife at her…
For Yasumichi Kagawa, as well.
“To put it simply, Iori-chan,”—the one to answer was Soushiki—”they were all the unfortunate victims of a hypnotic spell!”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to catch the last train.”
Iori turned to leave for the hallway, but Soushiki hastily blurted out, “Ah, wait, wait, wait, wait!” and managed to hold her back.
“What are you talking about, Iori-chan? This is your own home. Where exactly are you planning to take that train?”
“I’m going to transfer between the JR and Hankyu lines at just the right time and make myself an alibi.”
“I fail to see how that’s going to help here.”
“Nobody would buy ‘hypnosis’ as an explanation these days!” Iori shook her head furiously. Hypnotic suggestion. She doubted a scenario like that would have flown with an audience even ten years earlier. “The severed heads were already ridiculous enough… God, I think I’m starting to cry.”
“If ‘hypnosis’ isn’t the best term to use, then just think of it as brainwashing. Say, Iori-chan.” Soushiki took a step off the balcony and into the room. “This is just a hypothetical situation, but let’s say a person is locked inside a tiny room in a basement and subjected to some kind of indoctrination every single day for a month. Don’t you think it would be possible to completely remold their sense of values and morals? It doesn’t take all that much time or effort to turn a person into a puppet. Perhaps it would be easiest explained by using the crafty techniques employed by religious cults as an example.”
“…”
“The world is filled with all sorts of cunning, nefarious organizations. It should come as no surprise that there’s a circle specialized in brainwashing among them. They call it ‘Mind Manipulation,’ but to be quite frank, it’s not something very pleasant to hear about. The nastiest part of it is that it infringes on a person’s innermost personality. It’s hard to get more wicked than that. My heart goes out to the victims, really. I have nothing but the utmost sympathy for those poor, manipulated puppets.”
“This, coming from the man who killed every last one of them?” Naguma sneered. “And if we’re going to call people wicked—then you of the Zerozaki Family are far, far worse. Even among the seven ‘Killing Names,’ the only two families that outclass you lot are the Niounomiya and the Yamiguchi.”
Zerozaki—
There it was again.
Iori tilted her head to the side in puzzlement.
What in the world were the Zerozaki?
“You see, Iori-chan,” Soushiki spoke, perhaps having noticed Iori’s expression, “the Zerozaki are what you could call a group of psycho killers. Bandits form gangs and pirates form crews, yes? It’s the same idea. If I were to put it in more modern terms—yes, perhaps we’d be along the lines of a mafia family.”
His scissors rang out with a snap.
“And I am the oldest son of the Family—Soushiki Zerozaki. It is the duty of the eldest brother to protect his siblings—and so, my young naginata user. For the sake of protecting my brand new sister, I, the Twentieth Hell, will serve as your opponent.”
“…I see.”
One step at a time, the two men began to close the distance between them.
“Now I get it. I finally understand, Mr. Mind Render. You were in the process of inviting this girl—Iori-san—to be part of your family, weren’t you?”
“Inviting me…?”
His little sister—is that what he had meant when he said that? Iori glanced over at Soushiki, but Soushiki was no longer looking her way. The two men had already drawn fairly close to one another—and while they were still too far apart for Soushiki’s scissors to come close to reaching Naguma, Soushiki was mere steps away from entering Naguma’s range of attack.
“But it’s rather ironic, really… I suppose this means those Marionettes played a hand in the awakening of a new Zerozaki. The awakening of a Zerozaki—an event even more precious than witnessing a sea turtle laying its eggs. And even if it weren’t, a female Zerozaki is already plenty of a rarity on its own…”
“…Hmm.”
At that, for some reason or another, Soushiki slipped his scissors back into his suit. Naguma frowned in suspicion, but didn’t lower his naginata from its middle stance position. Soushiki, on the other hand, remained as composed as ever. It was hard to say whether it was part of his strategy or just his natural state of being, but he had yet to show a single crack in the self-assured way he carried himself.
“You don’t seem to be a puppet yourself, my dear naginata user, so would you mind sharing your name?”
“It’s Naguma Sawarabi… but don’t disappoint me like this, Mr. Mind Render,” said Naguma. “If you call a truce now, my dramatic entrance will go to waste. Things would end before I got the chance to flaunt a single one of my charms.”
“A truce? I wouldn’t ask for that. I’m sure there’s no point in negotiating with you, anyway—but ‘Sawarabi,’ hm? Yes, I believe I’ve heard that name before.” Soushiki chuckled. “Well then, Naguma-kun. Being the ignorant man that I am, I don’t know very much about that weapon of yours—that naginata, as it’s called—but I’m quite sure it’s not meant to be wielded in such a cramped room. I hate to put your clean-up job to waste, but how about it? Why don’t we move to a stage where we can both fight to the best of our abilities?”
“…I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.”
“I like my fights fair and square,” responded Soushiki. “I prefer a fair competition adhering to a strict rule set over a no-holds-barred match. …Or, I suppose, it just wouldn’t sit well with me if I trounced you here and now. If I beat you with ‘cowardly’ tactics, it would weigh heavily on my conscience later. My three most hated words are ‘dishonesty,’ ‘irresponsibility,’ and ‘heartlessness’; I always aim to be amiable to others, whether it’s someone I’m sending to their death or someone I’m fighting to the death. Hey, Iori-chan?”
“Y-Yes?”
“Is the roof of this building accessible?”
“Huh? Ah, mm—yeah.”
Iori gave a flustered response. She couldn’t keep up with anything that was happening. This was her own home, yet somewhere along the line, she had been left in the dust. Hey, wait, are these two planning to have a duel or something? How did we get to that point? The entire situation had transcended the limits of her understanding.
“I-It’s accessible, yes. When the weather’s nice, I oft like to lay out a blanket and do some sunbathing.”
“That sounds lovely. Yes. It has absolutely nothing to do with what’s going on right now, but that was a very charming anecdote. Well then, Naguma-kun.” Soushiki pointed his index finger at the ceiling. “Why don’t we settle this on the roof? It’ll be a fight to the top, as they say.”
That wasn’t what “fight to the top” actually meant.
“…I…”
Tentatively—Naguma relaxed his stance. However, he showed no further signs of lowering his guard, instead fixing Soushiki with a sharp glare.
“Whenever an opponent proposes something like that, I always have to wonder what they’re scheming. But still—I suppose there’s no point in trying to figure out what a Zerozaki is thinking in the first place.”
“Fair enough. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve left someone perplexed.”
“…Very well. I’ll go on ahead.”
Naguma swung his naginata through the air one more time, slung its handle over his right shoulder, and headed outside. After he had slipped past Soushiki and stepped out onto the balcony, lowering his naginata so it fit under the door frame—he looked back over his shoulder at Iori.
Their eyes met.
Naguma’s eyes and Iori’s eyes met.
Iori instinctively straightened up—however, Naguma didn’t say anything. All he did was smile. It wasn’t the same provocative smile he had shown her earlier, nor was it a smug smile of superiority; it was, how to put it…
A smile of pity.
The look on his face left Iori bewildered.
Why…?
Why would I… be getting a look of sympathy from a man like him…?
And then.
Naguma jumped from the balcony and disappeared.
“Huh? W-What?! D-Did he just jump off the building?!”
“No, he jumped on top of it.”
As he spoke, Soushiki drew closer to Iori. Iori pretended to move towards the balcony, then used that chance to run away. “Goodness,” sighed Soushiki with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Civilized people really ought to use the stairs. Quite impatient, that one. He almost reminds me of Ukyounosuke Okuda.[1] You know, ‘Don’t make a fuss!’ and all that. Do you know what that’s a reference to, Iori-chan?”
“I don’t know anything anymore…”
“You don’t know, hm? …Then would you like a more thorough explanation?”
While he said that, Soushiki made a show of turning the other way—only to then leap backwards with his back still turned to Iori, landing right next to her.
No escaping that one.
“A-An explanation…?”
“I don’t understand the full situation myself, but I’ve figured out enough to give a basic summary of what’s going on. Including what those puppets are,” he said, surveying the mess that had been made of the room. “But ‘Sawarabi,’ hm…? They’re a branch family of the Niounomiya. This is about the time they’d be undergoing generational turnover, so… yes, if I remember correctly, they were a set of three siblings. Mmmm…”
Soushiki pressed his finger against his forehead, as if he were trying to remember something.
“…A sword-wielding older brother, a naginata-wielding middle brother, and a bow-wielding younger sister—yes, I believe that was it. I don’t remember much else about them, but I suppose that means we have the middle child on our hands.”
“Uh, no, I don’t really care about his background or anything,” Iori responded, while slowly shuffling backwards. “Why did he show up at my house? No, not only that; going off the conversation just now, even Yasuchi’s attempt to kill me was his fault—or his responsibility, I guess, or something like that…”
“Do you want a full explanation?”
“…Umm…”
In all truth, that question gave her pause.
Right then, all Iori could think about—or rather, all Iori wanted—was one thing.
She didn’t want to get involved.
She wanted to escape.
She wanted to run away somewhere.
Duel or kill each other all you like, but do it away from me. Naginata or scissors, I don’t care—as long as you swing them down somewhere I can’t see.
Please, just leave me out of it.
“…But still…”
But still—unfortunately for her.
As things stood—in that particular moment, Iori wasn’t some bystander who had been dragged into someone else’s affair—that wasn’t the position she was in. She hadn’t gotten mixed up in anything, nor was she suffering the after-effects of some major incident. If there was anyone who fit that description, it would be Yasumichi Kagawa—or perhaps her father, mother, sister, or brother.
Unfortunately for her.
Iori Mutou was the protagonist of this story.
“…I do. I want an explanation.”
“Hehehe, well said. That’s a nice look in your eyes, and that’s some nice resolve.” Soushiki laughed, amused. “It’s resolve befitting a Zerozaki, one forsaken by the world.”
“…”
For a moment, Iori and Soushiki simply glared at one another.
No—rather than glaring, it was as though they were staring into each other’s eyes.
The psycho killer and the novice murderer stood face-to-face.
“In that case, turn your back to me, Iori-chan.”
“…Like this?”
“Put your hands together behind your back.”
“…Like this?”
“Say, Iori-chan.”
“Yes?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re not very bright?”
In the same instant, Iori felt something bind her wrists together. The feeling of her shoulders being yanked backwards threw her off balance, and Soushiki used that opportunity to kick her feet out from under her, sending her sprawling across the floor that Naguma had cleaned up earlier. As her hands were tied behind her back, she was unable to break her own fall, and her shoulders took the full brunt of the impact.
“Those aren’t handcuffs. I used a special type of elastic string. Well, I say ‘elastic,’ but it can’t be stretched or contracted with human strength.” Soushiki spread his hands in a self-effacing manner. “I could cut it with my Mind Render if I truly wanted to, but it would damage the blade, so I would rather avoid that. In any case, it can’t be undone by any of the usual methods, so I recommend you be a smart little cookie and give up now.”
“W-What are you doing?!”
“I’m tying up my little sister.”
“Pervert! Pervert!”
“Relax, I’m not planning to take advantage of you. That would be incest, you know, and incest is wrong. That elastic string is a just a stop-gap measure. As long as you have those on, you won’t needlessly kill anyone. I’m not doing this to be mean, alright? I hope you won’t misunderstand.” Soushiki gave an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. “I find your overwhelming disposition to be a tad bit dangerous; I’m actually a bit scared, you know, so go easy on me. Well, either way, it would be safest to seal your hands until you learn to control your impulses. We may be psycho killers, but it would be a real headache if we all went around killing people nonstop.”
“W-What do you mean, ‘disposition’?! I just stabbed him in a daze! I didn’t do it on purpose!”
“The problem isn’t that you killed him. The way you killed him isn’t the problem, either. It’s not even about whether or not you had killing intent. The one and only problem here, Iori-chan, is the fact that you’re someone capable of murder. I said I would give you an explanation, but honestly, I’d like you to tell me. How did you manage to immerse yourself in regular society for all these years? Even my little brother only managed to stay part of it until he graduated middle school.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Yes, I’m sure. Of course, of course. Pardon me, I’m going to do your legs now. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t look up your skirt.”
While he spoke in a placating tone, Soushiki lifted up Iori’s ankles as she groveled on the floor, tying them together with the same elastic string he had used to bind her wrists. Then, he used one last length of string to link the elastic around her wrists and the elastic around her legs together. With that, Iori was left completely paralyzed.
“Now then, just sit tight, Iori-chan. I’m going to go fight Naguma-kun. I’ll be right back, so you don’t have to worry; everything will be just fine.”
“I’m not fine! Worry a little more about me, would you?!”
“Iori-chan.”
Soushiki lowered his voice.
More slender and more pointed than she had seen them yet, the eyes beyond those glasses fixed themselves on Iori.
“From now on, you have no choice but to keep on killing. If you want to keep living, that is. You no longer have the options of ‘kill’ or ‘don’t kill.’ ‘Kill’—that’s all you have. You can only ‘kill,’ Iori-chan. To be unable to consider anything but ‘not killing’ is unhealthy, but the inverse is utterly beyond help. Such is the case for me, and such is the case for my little brother. It’s not that we can only think about killing; it’s that killing is a given. It’s a precondition. Whether it’s a friend or a lover, it doesn’t matter. Once we expose our disposition, there’s no turning back. A person who can run 100 meters in 10 seconds can’t be anything but a person who can run 100 meters in 10 seconds. Once they’ve started running, they can’t take 20 seconds to cover that distance. Those who get a perfect score on an exam don’t get that score because they choose to; they don’t know how to get any other score. It’s not so hard for someone who would get 0 points to get 10 points. But it’s impossible for someone who would get 100 points to get 90 points.”
“…”
“To be a psycho killer is to be alone. Those who kill others are intrinsically isolated. Utterly isolated. You can’t have friends. You won’t meet a kindred spirit. You’ll never find a lover. You can’t even hope for a friendly rival. You’ll never meet a confidant who can share in your suffering, nor will you have a mentor who can show you the way. You’re completely on your own, companionless and lonesome and miserable. Do you know what true loneliness is, Iori-chan?”
“…”
Iori couldn’t answer.
“To be truly alone means that it makes no difference whether or not you’re there. It’s a denial of one’s existence. It’s a denial of one’s way of being. And that—is something very sad. To be by yourself and to be alone are two completely different things. We want a friend who will play with us. We want a kindred spirit who will stay with us. We want a partner who will love us. We want a rival who will compete with us. We want a confidant who will understand us, and we want a mentor who will help us. We don’t want to be alone.”
“…”
“And that’s why we formed a pack—a family. That’s how the Zerozaki Family began. We’re fundamentally different from the Niounomiya and the Yamiguchi.”
The Zerozaki—Family.
An older brother. A little brother. A little sister—a Family.
A family.
“You look like you don’t quite understand. That’s fine. I’m not trying to tell you to abandon all hope. There’s even some chance that everything I’ve said so far was wrong, and you can still turn back. At this point in time, you’re still just ‘an upstanding citizen who acted in self-defense.’ I’m the one who killed Yasuchi, so from an objective point of view, there should be plenty of leeway for you to return to ‘that’ world. And that, my dear, is precisely why I’m tying you up. To leave you a bit of hope—to leave you a few options—for the future. Either way—no matter how things turn out in the end… it’s for your own good.”
“F-For my own… good?”
“I said this before—but I truly don’t understand. I have no idea how you were able to suppress such an immense disposition until you turned seventeen. If you told me you’d killed a thousand people in your lifetime, I wouldn’t bat an eyelash, but the fact that you haven’t killed a single one is downright bizarre. Even this time around—if you hadn’t been attacked by that puppet, you probably wouldn’t have killed anyone. To borrow Naguma-kun’s words, it is indeed a bit ‘ironic,’ but—there’s a very high likelihood that you wouldn’t have ‘awakened’ at all. Do you know what that means?”
“I-I don’t.”
“Yes, I don’t know either. In that case, allow me to formulate a hypothesis,” continued Soushiki, his tone rather grave. “…You are an impossible possibility. A rather unique possibility. The possibility of a psycho killer who isn’t alone—or perhaps not a ‘possibility,’ but a ‘hope.’ You still haven’t taken the exam. There’s no telling if you would get a 0 or a perfect score. No one knows what’s going to become of you from now on—and that’s where the hope lies. As such, I will do everything in my power to cover for you—as your older brother within the Zerozaki. Don’t worry; your brother is a reliable man.”
With that, Soushiki turned his back to Iori and headed for the front door. Evidently, he didn’t plan to imitate Naguma’s reckless jump from the balcony.
“…”
Back then—Soushiki had said this: “‘Someone is sure to show up at a turning point in my life’—the thought goes beyond arrogant and becomes downright laughable.” He had claimed that a hero wasn’t going to swoop in at just the right moment to save her from her crisis.
And yet.
Wasn’t what he was doing now—exactly that? She had received only snippets of an explanation, so Iori still couldn’t comprehend what was going on—but she had felt something when she first met him. And she had felt it again when he made his gallant entrance from the balcony.
Relief.
Her heart—was at peace.
Even now, he was leaving to go face off against Naguma. Wasn’t it safe to say that he was doing that for her? Just as she had thought earlier, this incident hadn’t begun when she ran into Soushiki. There was even a chance, perhaps, that this had all begun a long, long time ago, and Soushiki had only shown up much later. One could even say that he was the one who had been dragged into this mess. And when she thought about it, he had yet to do any harm to her; on the contrary, he had saved her life twice.
In that case…
Perhaps he was telling the truth, and the bindings really were to protect her.
Such went Iori’s thought process.
And once she thought that, there was nothing left she could say.
“Oh, right.”
After he had opened the front door, Soushiki looked back over his shoulder.
“In my own personal opinion, wearing spats underneath a skirt is an abomination, Iori-chan.”
“You were totally looking!”
Naguma Sawarabi was not ignorant to the terror of the Zerozaki Family; on the contrary, he was someone who had learned of that terror firsthand. If he was to go up against the Twentieth Hell, Soushiki Zerozaki the decapitator, he wasn’t foolish enough to take that opponent lightly. Needless to say, he had not lowered his guard against Soushiki Zerozaki even once so far—nor had he done so against Iori Mutou, at that. His flippancy and his frivolity, his composure and his agitation, and even the brief show of irritation he had made before Iori were nothing more or less than cards Naguma held in his hand, and none of them made up who Naguma Sawarabi was as a person.
And…
Naguma Sawarabi’s most powerful card was his naginata.
So long as he had that weapon of his, he was perfectly capable of holding his own against even Soushiki Zerozaki—so believed Naguma. No matter who he was fighting—with the sole exception of his own brother—he knew it was impossible for anyone to break through his defenses. That went doubly for the weapon Soushiki had brandished moments earlier, Mind Render—that pair of scissors with a range of attack equal to that of a knife, or possibly even shorter. No matter how abnormally long Soushiki’s reach was, it wouldn’t be enough to slip past Naguma’s naginata and get to his body. If they had proceeded with their knockdown drag-out match in that cramped room, he would have been at a bit of a disadvantage, but now that the stage had been moved to this wide open rooftop, he had a clear shot at victory against even the Twentieth Hell. A shot at victory that he was fairly confident of, in fact. That was the degree to which Naguma Sawarabi considered his naginata to be an absolute.
That conviction was strong enough to be called a belief.
Naguma placed more faith in his weapon than he placed even in himself.
“You know—if things go well, I might be able to put an end to this here and now, Brother…”
Naguma whispered that to himself—and then swung his naginata through the air, pointing its blade at the entrance to the roof. In the same moment, the door opened, and a man who looked much like a wireframe model, with a lean body and unusually long arms and legs—
A psycho killer entered the scene.
He was already prepared for battle, his scissors held at the ready.
There was something about him reminiscent of a demon—so thought Naguma.
It had been the same earlier. It had been like that all this time.
Somehow—it didn’t feel like he was facing off against another human. When Soushiki had swooped in from the balcony with no warning—and when Iori had pointed the tip of her fork at him, too.
And.
The very first time he and his sister had confronted a Zerozaki…
He had it felt it then, too.
It didn’t feel the slightest bit like he was facing off against another human.
He recognized that sensation.
Indeed, it was—the sensation of something inhuman.
Something beyond comprehension.
Neither strong nor weak…
Simply, truly something beyond comprehension.
A completely different kind of something than he was.
Standing before him—was something impossible.
He was facing off against something impossible.
He couldn’t help but get that feeling.
“Did I keep you waiting, Naguma-kun?”
The inhuman thing called out to him.
He was walking over briskly, failing to show the slightest bit of caution. The moment Naguma moved his naginata into the middle stance position, Soushiki finally stopped where he stood and chuckled.
“It’s a bit funny, don’t you think?”
“…What is?”
“Oh, you know… Just think about it. Two grown men in a quiet country town, standing on the roof of a perfectly ordinary, peaceful apartment building, getting ready to kill each other the moment their eyes meet. And with scissors and a naginata, at that. If I were a swordsman instead, perhaps this would make for a prettier picture.”
“…You certainly are confident, Mr. Mind Render.”
“By the way, why are you dressed so strangely?” Without even bothering to shrug in response, Soushiki simply pointed at Naguma’s clothing. “If you go around looking like that, you’re bound to get arrested in no time. Oh, no, I don’t mean to disrespect the Japanese style. I simply don’t understand. Why would you go so far—clothing yourself in a hakama and training gi, donning Japanese-style glasses, tying back your hair with a headband and wearing zori sandals, even making a naginata your weapon… Why would you go so far out of your way to stray from what’s ‘ordinary’ and ‘natural’?”
“What are you talking about?”
“To be perfectly frank, I rather despise you. Even setting aside what you did to my sister, to see someone take the one thing I want more than anything in the world and so casually cast it aside—even if it’s no business of mine, even if it’s someone else’s problem, it still makes me angry.” Soushiki hung his head. “If you witnessed a child drowning, even though it’s no business of yours, even though it’s someone else’s problem, you would still feel compelled to save them, wouldn’t you? It’s the same sort of feeling. But you’re not a Zerozaki, so I’m sure you would never understand.”
“…You didn’t come here to start an argument, did you, Mind Render? Let’s just begin. I should be able to settle this within five minutes.”
“Goodness, what confidence. You could probably call it ‘blind faith,’ at this point. Mm, how lovely. Heheh, heheheh, how lovely, how lovely,” said Soushiki, once again moving his legs in Naguma’s direction. “In that case, I hope you’ll give me a good workout. Whenever you feel like running away, do feel free; there’s no shame in that, and it will spare me from sullying my weapon any further. If I go around cutting apart six or seven people in a single day, even Mind Render here won’t hold up for another two years.”
“…Don’t you think you’re taking the name ‘Sawarabi’ a bit too lightly, Mr. Mind Render?”
Given Soushiki’s patronizing—no, downright insulting—choice of words, it was no surprise that Naguma argued back with a face twisted in displeasure. Soushiki was just one step—just another half of a step away from entering Naguma’s sphere. Conversely, Naguma still had plenty more room before he came within range of Soushiki’s Mind Render. By anyone’s measure—he was the one with an overwhelming advantage.
“Taking it too lightly, hm? I believe I’m giving it just the right amount of credit. Did I say something hurtful? If so, I won’t hesitate to apologize.”
“…Sure, we aren’t particularly famous compared to the Zerozaki or the rest of the seven Killing Names, including the main family of the Niounomiya… but reputation and merit don’t always go hand in hand. Such is the case with this naginata, for instance.”
“Allow me to correct a misunderstanding of yours.”
Just one step outside of Naguma’s field of attack, Soushiki once again stopped where he stood. It seemed he could clearly perceive the extent of the naginata’s range.
“You just mentioned the seven Killing Names—but in my own personal opinion, I’d prefer the name ‘Zerozaki’ not be listed with the rest of them. The Niounomiya are ‘hitmen,’ and the Yamiguchi are ‘assassins.’ The Susukino are ‘fixers,’ the Hakamori are ‘butchers,’ the Tenbuki are ‘custodians,’ and once we’ve reached the Ishinagi, we even have ‘reapers.’ Every last one of them is a group of ‘evil’doers, repulsive and terrifying to a hair-raising degree. …But Naguma-kun. We of the Zerozaki Family are not any of those things—we’re ‘psycho killers.’ We exist on an entirely different plane from the rest of you lot. I’m not particularly pleased to be grouped together with those who kill or don’t kill depending on the situation, and I’m sure it’s not particularly pleasant for you, either. Killing may be a job to you all—but to us Zerozaki, it’s a way of life.”
“…!”
“Well then.”
Soushiki Zerozaki…
The Twentieth Hell…
Suicidal Thoughts…
“Let us begin the Zerozaki.”
…stepped into Naguma Sawarabi’s field without the slightest bit of hesitation.
(Naguma Sawarabi—Commencing examination) (Chapter 3—The End)
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[1] Reference to a naginata-wielding character from Sure Death 4: Revenge, a 1987 Japanese film. “Don’t start a fuss!” is one of the character’s famous lines.
