Part I - Start Game

42 students remaining

As the bus entered the prefectural capital of Takamatsu, garden suburbs transformed into city streets of multicolored neon, headlights of oncoming cars, and checkered lights of office buildings. A group of well dressed men and women stood talking to each other in front of a streetside restaurant while they waited for a taxi. Tired, squatting youths smoked in the clean parking lot of a convenience store. A worker on his bicycle waited for the lights to change at the crossing. It was chilly for a May evening, so the man had put on his worn out jacket. Along with these other drifting impressions, the worker disappeared behind the bus window, swallowed by the low engine rumble. The digital display above the bus driver's head changed to 8:57.

Shuya Nanahara (Male Student No. 15, Third Year Class B, Shiroiwa Junior High School, Shiroiwa Town, Kagawa Prefecture) had been staring outside, leaning over Yoshitoki Kuninobu (Male Student No. 7), who had the window seat. As Yoshitoki dug through his bag, Shuya stared at his own right foot, which was sticking out in the aisle, and stretched out his Keds sneakers with his toes. It used to be that Keds weren't hard to find, but now they were extremely rare. The canvas of Shuya's shoes were torn on the right heel, and the stray threads stuck out like cat's whiskers. The shoe company was American, but the shoes themselves were made in Colombia. At present, 1997, the Republic of Greater East Asia hardly suffered from a shortage of goods. In fact it was rich with commodities, but imports were hard to come by lately. Well, it was only to be expected in a country with an official policy of isolationism. Besides, America—both the government and the textbooks called them "the American Imperialists"—was an enemy state.

From the back of the bus, Shuya watched his forty-one classmates, who were illuminated by dull fluorescent lights fixed in dingy ceiling panels. They were all in the same class from last year. They were all still excited and chatting away, since hardly an hour had passed since their departure from their hometown of Shiroiwa. Spending the first night of a study trip on a bus seemed a little cheap. Worse yet, it felt like they were going on a forced march. But everyone would calm down once the bus crossed the Seto Bridge and got on the Sanyo Highway and headed towards their destination, the island of Kyushu. The loud students at the front who were sitting around their teacher Mr. Hayashida were girls: Yukie Utsumi (Female Student No. 2), the class representative who looked good with braided hair; Haruka Tanizawa (Female Student No. 12), her volleyball teammate who was exceptionally tall; Izumi Kanai (Female Student No. 5), the preppy whose father was a town representative; Satomi Noda (Female Student No. 17), the model student who wore wire-rimmed glasses which suited her calm, intelligent face; and Chisato Matsui (Female Student No. 19), who was always quiet and withdrawn. They were the mainstream girls. You could call them "the neutrals." Girls tended to form cliques, but there weren't any particular groups that stuck out in Shiroiwa Junior High School's Third Year Class B, so categorizing them didn't seem right. If there was a group, it was the rebel or—to put it more bluntly—the delinquent group led by Mitsuko Souma (Female Student No. 11). Hirono Shimizu (Female Student No. 10) and Yoshimi Yahagi (Female Student No. 21) rounded out that bunch. Shuya couldn't see them from where he was sitting.

The seats right behind the driver were slightly raised, and popping up above them were the two heads of Kazuhiko Yamamoto (Male Student No. 21) and Sakura Ogawa (Female Student No. 4), the most intimate couple in the class. Maybe they were laughing, because their heads shook slightly. They were so insular, the most trivial thing could have been entertaining them.

Closer to Shuya, lying in the aisle, was a large school uniform. It belonged to Yoshio Akamatsu (Male Student No. 1). He was the biggest kid in the class, but he was the timid type, the kind of kid who'd always end up the target of pranks and insults. His big body was crouched over, and he was busy playing a handheld video game.

Also in the aisle were the jocks Tatsumichi Oki (Male Student No. 3, handball team), Kazushi Nüda (Male Student No. 16, soccer team), and Tadakatsu Hatagami (Male Student No. 18). They were all sitting together. Shuya himself had played Little League baseball in elementary school and was known as a star shortstop. Actually he'd been friends with Tadakatsu, but they'd stopped hanging out. Partly this was because Shuya had stopped playing baseball, but it also had to do with the fact that Shuya had started playing electric guitar, which was considered an "unpatriotic" activity. Tadakatsu's mother was uptight about that sort of thing.

Yes, rock was outlawed in this country. (Of course there were loopholes. Shuya's electric guitar came with a government-approved sticker which read, "Decadent Music Is Strictly Prohibited." Decadent music was rock.)

Come to think of it, Shuya thought, I've changed my friends too.

He heard someone laugh quietly behind big Yoshio Akamatsu. It was one of Shuya's new friends, Shinji Mimura. Shinji had short hair and wore an intricately designed ring on his left ear. By the time Shuya and Shinji became classmates in their second year, Shuya had already heard of him. Shinji was known as

"The Third Man"—the team's first-string shooting guard. His athletic skill was equal to Shuya's, though Shinji would have said, "I'm better, bro." Together on the basketball court for the first time in their second-year class competition, they made for a deadly combo, so it was only natural they'd hit it off. There was a lot more to Shinji than sports, though. His grades in subjects other than math and English weren't great, but his breadth of real world knowledge was incredible, and his views were mature, way beyond his peers. He somehow had an answer for any question about overseas information that couldn't be obtained in this country. And he always knew the best thing to say when you were down, like, "You know it, I'm the man." But he was never arrogant. Instead he'd smile and crack a joke. He was never full of himself. Basically Shinji Mimura was a good guy.

Shinji appeared to be sitting next to his buddy from grade school, Yutaka Seto (Male Student No. 12), the class clown. Yutaka must have cracked another joke, because Shinji was laughing. Hiroki Sugimura (Male Student No. 11) sat behind them. His tall, lanky body barely fit into the narrow seat. He was reading a paperback book. Hiroki was reserved and studied martial arts, so he projected toughness. He didn't hang out with the other guys much, but once you got to know him a little he turned out to be nice. He was just shy. Shuya got along with him. Was he reading that book of Chinese poetry he liked so much? (Chinese books in translation were fairly easy to obtain, not surprising considering the Republic claimed China as "part of our homeland.")

Shuya once came across a line in an American paperback novel he'd dug out from a used bookstore (he managed to get through it with a dictionary): friends come and then they go. Maybe that's how things were. Just as he and Tadakatsu were no longer friends, there might come a time when he wasn't friends with Shinji and Hiroki anymore.

Well, maybe not.

Shuya glanced at Yoshitoki Kuninobu, who was still digging through his bag. Shuya had made it this far with Yoshitoki Kuninobu. And that would never change. After all they were friends ever since they wet their beds at that Catholic institution with the bombastic name, "the Charity House"—where orphans or other children who, due to "circumstances," were no longer able to be with their parents. You could say they were almost cursed to be friends.

Maybe we should cover religion while we're at it. In fact this country, under a unique system of national socialism ruled over by an executive authority called "the Dictator" (Shinji Mimura once said with a grimace, "This is what they call 'successful fascism.' Where else in the world could you find something so sinister?"), had no national religion. The closest thing to religion was faith in the political system— but this wasn't paired up with any established religion. Religious practice therefore was permitted as long as it remained moderate and at the same time wasn't guaranteed. So it was only practiced in private by dedicated followers. Shuya himself never really had any religious inclinations, but it was thanks to this particular religion's institution that he managed to grow up relatively unscathed and normal. He thought he should appreciate that much. There were state orphanages, but apparently their accommodations and programs were poorly run, and from what he heard they served as training schools for Special Defense Forces soldiers.

Shuya turned around and looked back. The group of delinquents that included Ryuhei Sasagawa (Male Student No. 10) and Mitsuru Numai (Male Student No. 17) was sitting on the wide seat at the back of the bus. There was…Shuya couldn't see his face, but he could see between the seats the head with the oddly styled, slicked-back, long hair poking out by the right window. Though on its left side (well, it seemed Ryuhei Sasagawa had left two seats open in between) the others were talking and laughing over something dirty, the head remained absolutely still. Perhaps he'd fallen asleep. Or maybe like Shuya he was watching the city lights.

Shuya was completely baffled by the fact that this boy— Kazuo Kiriyama (Male Student No. 6)—would actually participate in a childish activity like a study trip.

Kiriyama was the leader of the thugs in their district, a group that included Ryuhei and Mitsuru. Kiriyama was by no means big. At best he was the same height as Shuya, but he could easily pin down high school students and even take on local yakuza. His reputation was legendary throughout the entire prefecture. And his father being the president of a leading corporation didn't hurt. (There were rumors though that he was an illegitimate child. Shuya wasn't interested, so he never bothered to find out more.) Of course that wouldn't have been enough. He had a handsome, intelligent face, and his voice wasn't particularly low, but there was something intimidating about it. He was the top student in Class B, and the only one who barely kept up with him was Kyoichi Motobuchi (Male Student No. 20), who studied so hard he didn't get much sleep. In sports Kazuo was better and more graceful than almost anyone else in the class. The only ones at Shiroiwa Junior High who could compete with him seriously were, yes, the former star shortstop, Shuya, and the current star shooting guard, Shinji Mimura. So in every respect Kazuo Kiriyama was perfect.

But then how could someone this perfect end up a leader of thugs? That was really none of Shuya's business. But if there was one thing Shuya could tell, it was a sense, almost tactile, that Kazuo was different. Shuya couldn't say exactly how. Kazuo never did anything bad in school. He'd never bully around someone like Yoshio Akamatsu the way Ryuhei Sasagawa did. But there was something so…remote about him. Was that it? At least that's how it felt.

He was absent a lot. The idea of Kazuo "studying" was completely absurd. In every class Kiriyama remained quietly seated at his desk as if he were thinking of something that had nothing to do with class. Shuya thought, if the government didn't have the power to enforce compulsory education on us, he probably wouldn't come to school at all. On the other hand he might just show up on a whim. I don't know. In any case, Shuya thought, I expected Kazuo to skip something as trivial as a study trip, but then he promptly shows up. Was this on a whim too?

"Shuya." Shuya was staring at the ceiling panel lights wondering about Kiriyama when a perky voice interrupted his thoughts. From the seat across the aisle, Noriko Nakagawa (Female Student No. 15) offered something wrapped in crisp cellophane. The bag sparkled like water under the white light, and it was filled with light-brown discs—cookies, probably. On top was a bow tied with a gold ribbon. Noriko Nakagawa was another girl who was neutral like Yukie Utsumi's group. Other than her kind eyes, which were noticeably dark, she had a round, girlish face and shoulder-length hair. She was petite and playful. In short, she was an average girl. If there was something particular about her, it was probably the fact that she wrote the best compositions in literature class. (This was how Shuya got to know Noriko. Shuya would spend break periods writing lyrics for his songs in the margins of his notebooks, and Noriko would insist on reading them.) She usually hung with Yukie's group, but because she'd showed up late today, she had no other choice but to take an open seat.

Shuya half-extended his hand and raised his brow. For some reason Noriko became flustered and said,

"They're leftovers from the ones my brother begged me to bake. They're best fresh, so I brought them for you and Mr. Nobu."

"Mr. Nobu" was Yoshitoki Kuninobu's nickname. Although he had bulging, friendly eyes, the nickname seemed appropriate for someone who could be, oddly enough, mature and wise. None of the girls called him by that name, but Noriko had no problem calling the boys by their nicknames, and the fact that this hardly offended any of them indicated how uniquely disarming she was. (Shuya had a sports-related nickname, the same name as a famous cigarette brand, but in the same way that Shinji was referred to as

"The Third Man" no one called him by this to his face.) He'd already noticed this before, Shuya observed, but she's the only girl who calls me by my first name.

Yoshitoki, who'd been listening in on them, interrupted. "Really? For us? Thanks so much! If you made them, I bet they're delicious."

Yoshitoki snatched the bag from Shuya's hand, quickly untied the ribbon, and took out a cookie.

"Wow, these are awesome."

As Yoshitoki praised Noriko, Shuya grinned. Could he be more obvious? The moment Noriko sat next to Shuya he'd been repeatedly glancing over at her, sitting upright, completely nervous. It was a month and a half ago during spring vacation. Shuya and Yoshitoki had gone fishing for black bass at the dam reservoir that provided the city its water supply. Yoshitoki confessed to Shuya, "Hey Shuya, I got a crush on someone."

"Huh. Who is it?"

"Nakagawa."

"You mean from our class?"

"Yeah."

"Which one? There are two Nakagawas. Yuka Nakagawa?"

"Hey, unlike you, I'm not into fat girls."

"What the…? So you're saying Kazumi is fat? She's just a little plump."

"Sorry. Anyway, well, uh yeah, it's Noriko."

"Huh. Well, she's nice."

"Isn't she though? Isn't she?"

"All right, all right."

Yes, Yoshitoki was totally obvious. But in spite of his behavior Noriko seemed oblivious to Yoshitoki's feelings for her. Maybe she was slow with stuff like this or something. It wasn't surprising, given her personality.

Shuya took a cookie from the bag still in Yoshitoki's hand and examined it. Then he looked over at Noriko.

"So they lose their flavor?"

"Uh huh," she nodded. Her eyes strained, oddly. "That's right."

"Which means you're sure they taste pretty good."

He might have learned this form of sarcasm from Shinji Mimura. Shuya often used it lately, to the dismay of other classmates, but Noriko just emitted a happy laugh and said, "I guess so."

"Come on," Yoshitoki interrupted again. "I told you they were good, didn't I, Noriko?" Noriko smiled. "Thanks. You're so nice."

Yoshitoki all of a sudden froze up as if he'd jammed his finger into an electric outlet and turned mute. Staring silently into his lap, he proceeded to devour his cookie.

Shuya grinned and ate the rest of his cookie. The warm, sweet taste and smell spread through his mouth.

"These are good," Shuya said.

Noriko, who'd been observing him all this time, exclaimed, "Thank you!" He could be wrong, but somehow the tone of her voice was different than when she thanked Yoshitoki. Well, wait…true, she was staring at him while he was eating the cookie. Were they really leftovers from the batch she'd baked for her brother? Maybe she'd baked them for "someone else." Or maybe he was just plain wrong. Then for some reason Shuya thought of Kazumi. She was a year ahead, and a fellow music club member until last year.

In the Republic of Greater East Asia, rock music was strictly prohibited in school club activities, but when their adviser Ms. Miyata was absent, music club members would play rock on their own. That was the kind of membership the club attracted in the first place anyway. Kazumi Shintani was the best female saxophone player. When it came to rock saxophone though, she was the best in the entire club. She was tall (almost the same height as Shuya, who stood 170 centimeters) and plump, but with her remarkably mature face and her hair bundled by her shoulders, she looked awesome with her alto saxophone. Shuya was thrilled by the sight. Then she taught Shuya how to play difficult guitar chords. (She said, "I played a little before I started playing the saxophone.") From that point on Shuya spent every spare minute he had practicing his guitar, and by his second year he was the best player in the club. It was all because he wanted Kazumi to hear him play.

Then one day, when the two of them happened to be alone in the music room after school, Shuya played and sang a version of "Summertime Blues" which impressed her. "That was so great, Shuya. That was so awesome." That day Shuya bought a can of beer for the first time in his life and celebrated with a private toast. It tasted great. But three days later when he asked her out, confessing, "Um, I really like you," she responded, "I'm sorry, I'm already going out with someone." She graduated and went to a high school with a music department, along with her "boyfriend."

Which reminded Shuya of his conversation with Yoshitoki at the dam over spring break. After sharing his feelings for Noriko, Yoshitoki asked him, "Are you still hung up on Kazumi?" Shuya answered, "Yeah, I think I'll be hung up over her the rest of my life." Yoshitoki looked stumped. "But she has a boyfriend, right?" Throwing the silver lure with all his might as if throwing a ball in from the outfield, he answered,

"That doesn't matter."

Shuya took the bag of cookies from Yoshitoki, who was still staring down into his lap. "Aren't you going to leave some for Noriko?"

"O-oh yeah, I'm sorry."

Shuya returned the bag to Noriko. "Sorry about that."

"That's all right. I don't mind. You guys should take them all."

"Really? But we shouldn't be the only ones."

Shuya took his first glance at the guy sitting next to Noriko. Wrapped in his school uniform, Shogo Kawada (Male Student No. 5) leaned against the window with his arms crossed and his eyes closed. He might have been asleep. His hair was cropped so short he looked like a monk. His slightly stubbled face reminded Shuya of a punk racketeer at a carnival. Wow, facial hair, everyone! Doesn't he look kind of old for a junior high school student?

Well, there was one thing he knew. Although Class B consisted of the same students as it did last year, Shogo Kawada had transferred last April from Kobe. And due to some circumstance, an injury or illness (he didn't look like the bedridden type so it must have been an injury), Kawada had to stay behind a year because he was unable to attend school for over six months. In other words he was one year older than Shuya and his classmates. Shuya himself never told anyone this, but that was what Shuya had heard. In fact he hadn't heard good things about Shogo. There was a rumor that he'd been a notorious thug at his last school and that his hospitalization was a result of a fight. To support this rumor, his body was covered with scars. A long scar from what appeared to be a knife wound ran over his left brow, and when they changed in the gym lockers (this was besides the point, but Kawada's body was built like a middleweight boxer's), Shuya was shocked to find the same kind of scars covering his arms and back. There were two round scars next to each other on his left shoulder. They looked like gunshot wounds, but that was unbelievable.

Every time he heard these rumors about Shogo, someone would inevitably suggest, "He's probably going to end up fighting Kazuo." Right after Shogo transferred to their school that fool Ryuhei Sasagawa tried to intimidate Shogo. The exact details of what followed were only hearsay, but apparently Ryuhei turned pale, retreated, and went crying for help from Kazuo. Kazuo looked indifferent though, and only glanced at Ryuhei. He didn't even say a word to Shogo. So at least for the time being they'd managed to avoid a confrontation. Kazuo didn't seem interested in Shogo. Shogo didn't seem interested in Kazuo. As a result Class B remained peaceful. They lucked out.

Everybody avoided Shogo because of his age difference and the rumors. But Shuya didn't like judging people on rumors. Someone once said, if you could see for yourself then there'd be no need to lend an ear to what others said.

Shuya pointed his chin past Noriko toward Shogo.

"I wonder if he's sleeping."

"Hmm…" She glanced over at Shogo.

"I didn't want to wake him up."

"He doesn't look like the type who's into cookies anyway."

Noriko chuckled, and as Shuya was about to, they heard, "No thanks." Shuya glanced back at Shogo.

The strong, low voice echoed in his head.

Although Shuya wasn't familiar with the voice it obviously came from Shogo, who still kept his eyes closed, though he didn't seem asleep. Shuya all of a sudden realized he'd rarely ever heard Shogo's voice, even though Shogo had transferred to their school over a month ago. Noriko glanced at Shogo and then looked at Shuya. Shuya shrugged in response and crammed another cookie into his mouth.

He continued chatting with Noriko and Yoshitoki for awhile but…

It was almost ten o'clock when Shuya noticed something strange.

Something weird was happening inside the bus. Yoshitoki, who was on his left, had suddenly fallen asleep and was softly breathing. Shinji Mimura's body was slouching into the aisle. Noriko Nakagawa was also asleep. No one seemed to be talking. Everyone seemed to be asleep. Well yeah, anyone excessively health-conscious might be going to bed now, but still, this was their long awaited trip. Wasn't it a bit early to fall asleep right after leaving? Why doesn't everyone sing or something? Doesn't this bus have one of those atrocious machines Shuya hated—karaoke?

Worst of all, Shuya himself was overcome with drowsiness. He looked around in a daze…then he couldn't even move his head, which felt heavy. He slouched against the seat. His eyes drifted through the narrow space to the rearview mirror at the center of the large windshield fading in the dark___He managed to make out the tiny image of the driver's upper body.

The driver's face was covered with what appeared to be a mask. A hoselike tube extended downward from the mask. Thin straps were wrapped around his head, strapped above and below his ears. What was that? Except for the hose extending downward, it resembled an airline emergency oxygen mask. So we can't breathe inside this bus? Ladies and gentlemen, this bus will be making an emergency landing due to engine trouble. Like, please fasten your seat belts, wear your oxygen masks, and follow crew member's instructions? Yeah, right.

He heard a scratching sound on the right. Shuya had to struggle to catch a glimpse over there. His body felt so heavy. It was as if he were immersed in transparent jelly.

Shogo Kawada was standing up and struggling to pry open a window. But whether it was jammed shut from rust or a broken lock, the window refused to budge. Shogo slammed his left fist against the glass. He's trying to break the glass. Why all the fuss?

But the glass didn't break. The fist ready to strike the glass all of a sudden went limp and clumsily dropped. His body collapsed into the seat. Shuya thought he heard that low voice he'd only recently familiarized himself with faintly gasp, "Damn."

Almost immediately Shuya fell asleep too.

At approximately the same time, students' families in Shiroiwa were visited by men in black sedans. Alarmed by the late night visit, the parents must have been shocked when the visitors presented them with documents stamped with the government's official peach insignia.

In most cases the parents would silently nod as they thought of their children whom they most likely would never see again, but there were those who frantically protested, in which case they would be knocked out by an electroshock baton, or in the worst case, be pummeled by fresh bullets spat out from a submachine gun, one step ahead of their children in departing from this world. By then the bus assigned to Shiroiwa Junior High School's Third Year Class B's study trip had long since branched off from the rows of other buses and taken a U-turn towards the city of Takamatsu. After returning to the city it wove its way through various roads before it finally stopped and quietly turned off its engine.

The man in his forties whose hair was peppered gray looked like a typical nice bus driver. Still wearing the oxygen mask that was digging into his slightly sagging chin, he turned towards the Class B students with a faint look of pity. But as soon as another man appeared under the window, his face stiffened. He gave the Republic's idiosyncratic salute. Then he pressed the switch to open the door. Shuya glanced outside as the masked men in battle gear came rushing in.

Under the moonlight, the bluish-white concrete pier gleamed like bone, and beyond the pier the ship that would transport "the players" was swaying sluggishly in the wide open black sea. 

42 students remaining