Mission 2

“Saruhiko, Aya saw the ranking of the nationwide mock exam results. What’s up with the 45th place? Did you, like, have a stomach ache?”

It was fall and theiruniforms had gone back to the winter version when Oogai Ayaapproached Fushimi after a long time. Although it felt like summer was still lingering around, since the second semester had started there were mock exams every once a month and they had been forced into the role of examinees.

“Ah, I haven’t seen the results yet. 45th place? Maybe that’s because I didn’t prepare for it at all.”

They were standing in the hall in front of the boys’ restroom. While they led a conversation in a complaining tone, a group of boys in the same year came out of the toilet and stared at them startled. It seemed like they had just now shown each other the list of the mock exam’s result that had been sent to each of their PDAs.

“Uwah, you’re the worst. You just displeased the whole country’s middle school seniors with what you said. Don’t complain if you get stabbed while walking around at night. Clinging to the 45th place even if you didn’t have any motivation makes you irresolute. If you’re, like, going to fall then at least fall below the 100th place. Aya easily made it into Tsubasagahara school’s A level.”

Maybe it was because of the appeal of being an examinee that Aya pushed up her black-green angular gla.s.ses and showed Fushimi her PDA on which the list of the results was displayed. Although it was annoying Aya wouldn’t let him get away so Fushimi gave up and fed up with it, he answered her.

“Aha. Though if you’re going to go to Tsubasagahara’s high school then it would’ve been good to go to their middle school as well.”

And then I would’ve gone through middle school without having to see your face in the same school, is what Fushimi hinted distinctly.

“Hmph. In that middle school are, like, only idiots who stopped studying in the 6th grade. Aya must not a.s.sociate with dunces.”

The one who’s gonna get stabbed while walking around at night is you. It’d be good if you’d get stabbed though so I won’t warn you.

“You’re not together with Misaki-kun today? How rare. Even though you two who don’t have any friends are always together.”

“It’s not like we have to go to the bathroom together.”

He and Yata had fortunately been in the same cla.s.s from the first year to the third, and they had reached their last year with Fushimi fortunately never sitting in the same cla.s.sroom as that annoying second cousin. For Fushimi it was good luck but for Aya who took a liking to Yata it had to be bad luck and she seemed to resent Fushimi for it.

“Ah, Saruhiko!”

Yata who came rushing energetically from the corner of the corridor spun around and ran towards them vigorously.

“O-oo, Oogai.”

He came to a halt and made sure that Fushimi was between him and Aya who he had noticed belatedly because she was hidden in Fushimi’s shadow.

“Oh? Oogai, have your eyes been bad? What, did you study too much and your eyesight dropped?”

When Yata asked that in a surprised tone Aya stuck out her chest in pride and theatrically pushed up her gla.s.ses.

That’s right, she didn’t wear them before, noticed Fushimi after he heard Yata’s comment. He hadn’t been aware of it because frankly, he didn’t care.

“How rude. Aya can do well without having to try so hard that her eyesight drops from studying.”

“Hm? Your gla.s.ses, don’t they look like Saruhiko’s?”

“Coincidence. More importantly, how, like, has the mock exam been for you, Misaki-kun?”

“R- right. Saruhiko-”

With the topic Aya brought up Yata’s expression turned miserable and he relied on Fushimi.

“My mom somehow knew that the results for the mock exam are released today and she’s eagerly waiting for me to come home. Well, it couldn’t be helped even if I’d hide it so I’ll show her the results, but it’ll be settled more peacefully when my dad’s home so, y"know, I want to kill some time until evening.”

“Sounds like a really bad result, huh. How pitiful, Misaki-kun. Well, the results until place 150 have been made public and there obviously hasn’t even been a hint of your shadow, so I understand already.”

“A- anyway, how was it for you, Oogai?”

“Aya is, like, on place 30. 15 places higher than, like, Saruhiko.”

“Don’t boast with the 30th place.”

When Fushimi interrupted them Aya pushed up her gla.s.ses and glared at him.

“Well, 45th place is quite shameful and you can’t talk about it proudly in a loud voice, can you?”

“30th place or 45th place, aren’t you talking about a perfect 100 point score? Hah, your lineage is really outstanding. You’re on a totally different level then me….”

Lamented Yata and let his shoulders drop.

0 points, putting me in the same category as her based on our lineage. Having gotten displeased, Fushimi left the other two behind and started to walk away. Why did we have to talk in front of the toilet anyway.

“Hey? Saruhiko? You’re free to go back home together today, right?” “Saruhiko! You are really egoistic, aren’t you!” The two ran after Fushimi, clamoring for a reaction.

                                                     † 

“Hah, I really want some flexible vehicle soon. Using the bus just doesn’t fit my style.”

As they were sitting next to the bus station “Torimochi City 5th Street” and waiting for the bus back home, Yata was diligently playing a game on his PDA and Fushimi was looking through the internet on his PDA whose screen he was apathetically flicking while sipping on a carbonic acid drink.

The boundary line between Torimochi City and Shizume City was this bus’ route. This bus stop was the starting point for everytime Fushimi and Yata were moving in Shizume City.

“Ah s.h.i.t, I died. Huh? If I use a coin I can continue? Well if you say it like that then I’ll definitely continue!”

It seemed like Yata was allowing himself to play games today to escape the result of the mock exam. But it was obvious that Yata couldn’t concentrate and, Fushimi could only hear the sound from next to him, but Yata had been quickly losing the whole time and continued the game while cursing. Those coins cost money, don’t they? He’s thoroughly hooked up on the game, thought Fushimi and left it as is.

“Oh-…to-…sh-…s.h.i.t, how annoyin-… hey, Saruhiko. I heard from Oogai today that your dad has been hospitalized all this time…?”

Mumbled Yata without looking away from the game. When that girl’s around Yata finds out unnecessary information, huh. “Ah, yeah.” Exasperated, Fushimi gave a non-committal response.

That man had been hospitalized since summer and hadn’t gotten better yet. Not having to see that guy in about three months was lately contributing a big part to the stability of Fushimi’s heart.

“Did you go visit him?”

“Why. I haven’t.”

“Even if you ask why…in the end he’s you’re dad, right?” Occupied with the game, Yata gave an vague answer. “……I already know but, say, for you he’s really, a lot, y"know…”

“Say it properly. He’s a weirdo, a creep, human trash.”

“He’s sick right now, isn’t he? Isn’t what you’re saying harsh, despite everything?”

Yata raised his eyes from the game. In exactly that moment came a explosion sound from within the game and Yata tore at his hair. “Ah, d.a.m.n!”

“Misaki. You’re tedious today.”

Fushimi gulped down a mouthful of the carbonic acid drink and spat out those biting words together with a little belch.

“I told you not to call me by my name when there are people around. And the h.e.l.l do you mean with tedious.”

In Yata’s voice was also a stinging tone mixed in.

“I only said normal things.” He hesitated before he continued. “……well, my normal and your normal are different.” He said sullen and curled his back to hold onto his PDA. “Let’s play one more time, suckers!”

Fushimi felt a bit let down by Yata. Haven’t you lately been swallowed up by the atmosphere of the examinations and withered? A Yata who has only 40 or 50 points isn’t interesting at all. You’re good when you throw with all your might and hit 0 points or 100 points.

Fushimi had been going absent-mindedly through the internet but there was no especially interesting information either.

He shoved the PDA into his pocket and when he was about to glumly raise the bottle to his mouth

“s.h.i.t– I died.”

it was s.n.a.t.c.hed from beside him with a curse. Yata gulped down the content of the bottle and with a “Ah, d.a.m.n, ’s tedious, a lot of things.” he flung the bottle away in a burst of anger into a random direction, but the moment he noticed that he had messed up and he let out a small “Oops”.

In the direction in which the bottle was flying while spinning were unfortunate pa.s.sersby.

Fushimi drew a sigh inwardly, lifted himself and grabbed the back of Yata’s blazer. It was preparation for an immediate escape should they get yelled at.

The bottle was going to hit the pa.s.serby’s back of his head with splendid aim — but right before that happened, the pa.s.serby securely caught the bottle with one hand.

It was a man with sharp eyes and his hair, that might be red through dying or by nature, was standing up looking like a lion’s mane. Near him were five, six followers accompanying him. They were only young hoodlums and their looks made it hard to tell if they were good people. Of all the targets they could have hit, this one was worse than the worst. In Shizume City were several groups ordinary people absolutely shouldn’t have anything to do with. This was unlucky even for times where things weren’t going well.

You, huh was how the redhead was glowering at Yata.

“Mikoto, don’t go scarin’ the young"uns.” Chided a tall man at the redhead’s side the latter in a light tone and with a soft Kansai dialect.

“Wh- wh- who is scared…!”

Tried Yata to charge at them while being very obviously scared. Fushimi promptly held Yata back by his shoulder and scowled at the guy with the Kansai dialect. The redhead might be the leader but Fushimi estimated that the guy with the Kansai dialect was the one who grasped the redhead’s reins. He showed a wry smile and shrugged his shoulders.

“Should we go?”, he urged the redhead who smirked, turned around and started to walk away. The remaining underlings followed them in droves.

“Tha- that scared me.”

Let Yata out in a whisper and fall back on his behind as if he had lost all his strength. Fushimi also took a breath and when the tension lessened—.

The redhead who was walking away threw the bottle casually behind his back. Drawing a parabola the bottle came flying and landed right in front of Yata’s feet.

In that moment was the bottle shrouded in violent flames. At the hot air warming his face and the dazzling light Fushimi unintentionally closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened his eyes the bottle had, through the high temperature in that one moment melted and turned into a liquefied state. It was simmering like magma and seething in a red color but it quickly cooled down and hardened. The bottle however had completely lost its shape and had turned into gooey slime.

                                                     † 

This legend was not as old as the legend of the man flying in the blimp. It seemed like this legend had risen in the gossip of the people sometime in the last year.

Like the legend of the man flying in the blimp, this was an urban legend concerning one man. It told of a monster in Shizume City who possesses the power of raging flames. Because of his eyes that harbor a gold color that dazzles like a fierce carnivorous beast’s and his hair that has the color of burning flames he is called “The Red Monster”.

“The Red Monster” leads his followers and strolls around destroying thugs who have been active in Shizume City’s underworld for a long time. There were also a lot of people who wanted to belong to the comrades of “The Red Monster”, who had rapidly expanded his influence within the thug groups. Although it was said that often the people who wanted to be part of the “The Red Monster”’s group were only burned by the flames of the monster and died. But the ones who overcome the flames and survive obtain a “power”.

“Power”…? What kind of…? Like the one that had melted the bottle…?

Fushimi stopped his thumb that had glided over his PDA’s screen.

He thought of himself as foolish for searching for a source that confirmed the urban legend as true. They had pulled some kind of trick, that was all. What Fushimi had been drinking was definitely just a normal carbonic acid soda he had bought at a vending machine, but when the redhead had thrown back the bottle Yata had tossed at them, he must have subst.i.tuted it with another one.

“If you’re goin’ to waste yer time here, then why don’t ya come with us, kids?”, was the message the guy with the Kansai dialect who had left together with the redhead, had left them. “We’ll offer ya a place to let off some steam.”

Shizume City had indeed near the station shopping buildings lined up that displayed huge electronic billboards and the city evolved into a city for the young generation, but at the same time there was another side of the city, it was also a city for gangs. I you took just one step into a back alley then immoral dealings of criminal groups were rampant and the clashing of members of delinquent groups had not stopped either.

Within that a gang that had quickly extended its influence — joining them? Had the guy with the Kansai dialect invited us? Middle school students like us? Ridiculous, there’s no way they could have been serious. They just had made fun of us.

“……Fushimi.”

Supposing that they had been serious and invited us middle school kids, there was no way they could use us for anything. The final outcome is us becoming sacrificial p.a.w.n. Or something like a…what was it called again? Like an existence that exists simply to take out an opponent?(1) I wonder if they simply drew in dumb youths with that kind of performance, invited them to join and then walked off? That was the kind of “You’ll quickly expand your power” trick they pulled on them. Weren’t they more like simple street performers rather than a gang ?

“…..Fushimi. …Fushimi!”

A loud voice from right above his head pierced through him as if it was drilling into his skull. Fushimi had heard the whole time that he was called, however he had not felt the need to reply but because it was inevitable he raised his eyes.

Next to his seat stood their english teacher, who had been their cla.s.s teacher since the first year and frowned at Fushimi. Nearly all of his cla.s.smates, who were latching onto their desks and struggling with the exam had their faces turned towards Fushimi some secretly, some broadly, but they all seemed troubled.

“Your PDA is confiscated. Hand it over.” said the teacher and reached out.

The school had just recently realized that there were students who used their PDAs during cla.s.s even though it should be locked. How they had done the cheating in their first year, about which Yata had also wondered about had also been exposed with this and it had turned into a big problem. The countermeasure the school had thought of was to collect the PDAs during main examinations like the mock exams and other tests, but that did not solve the main problem in the least.

The school didn’t yet grasp that the app that removed the lock was «jungle» which was very popular among the students. The reason why «jungle» could do that was not only the astonishing incompetence of the person who was in charge of the school’s system, but also the fact that «jungle» frequently did minor version updates which continued to alter how they slipped into the PDA’s system—-just like a screen saver that wriggly continued to change its shape on the display.

“Didn’t I say to hand it over?”

When Fushimi ignored the teacher, the latter tried to take the PDA by force.

Showing his own huge incompetence, what exactly is it this teacher plans to teach the students?  This genuine question was all that popped into Fushimi’s mind.

“Don’t touch it.”

He whisked off the teacher’s hand and shoved the PDA into his blazer’s pocket.

“I’m done, sir.” said Fushimi in a monotone voice, left his already finished test sheet and his writing materials on the desk and only took his bag as he stood up from his seat. He pa.s.sed though the back of the slightly noisy cla.s.sroom and headed for the door. This route went right behind Yata’s seat. Yata bent his body on his chair and called out. “Saruhiko.” Fushimi made an fleeting eye contact with Yata and left the cla.s.sroom.

“Fushimi! Don’t be so full of yourself! Even if you’re good in off-campus mock exams, you’re school report is still the worst!”

The teacher’s hysteric voice pierced through the corridor. He sounded like nothing but a sour loser.

“Hey, Yata?! You, too?! You’re different from Fushimi, you know! In your case you’re just a useless guy running away! When people like you with no perseverance go out into society…” “Saruhiko, you going home? Then I’ll also go home”, said Yata as if to push away the teacher’s voice. He was carrying his bag and stumbled while running after Fushimi.

“Are you sure? Even though we’re different from each other, it seems.”

When Fushimi said that coldly, Yata pouted. “…..I’m sure.” He shouldered his bag and started to walk at Fushimi’s side.

Right now Fushimi had been deliberately mean. Because he was irritated, unintentionally.

Their slippers made a tapping sound while they walked next to each other through corridor that had quieted down. Fushimi took out his PDA once more. It displayed the site he had looked at earlier. It was a site that had been linked to from another site where various information on urban legends were collected.

“This site.”

Fushimi showed Yata the screen.

“Hm? Ah, that’s the shady guy with the Kansai dialect from the other day, isn’t it…?”
“Yeah.”

The picture of a man polishing a c.o.c.ktail gla.s.s behind a stylish, wooden long table that probably was a bar counter was posted on the site. It looked like he was talking to somebody with a smile, but his eyes were not turned towards the photographer. The picture quality was poor and it seemed like it had been taken from a distance and then zoomed in. The photo had probably not been taken with a proper camera, but rather with a PDA’s photo function.

That was not the only photograph.

When you scrolled down the screen then there were other pictures lined up as well. Next to the guy with the Kansai dialect where also several pictures with the faces of the people who had followed the redhead the other day. The backgrounds were various, like the interior of always the same store, or the outdoors. Even though Fushimi quickly scrolled down by letting his thumb glide over the screen, the photographs did not break off and he thought that there had to be around one hundred. The pictures had no captions and the one who had uploaded them as well as the site’s purpose was unclear.

“These were taken in secret, right…?”

“Has to be.”

If the ones whose picture were taken would have witnessed it they probably would have felt at least a bit unwell by it. Although this website wasn’t really hidden and could be easily reached through a web search. Instead Fushimi deduced that the photographer had a.s.sumed he would attract the attention of the people he made pictures of.

Who would, for which purpose…?

“There sure are people who do sick stuff. Why would they do something like this, huh?”

Yata shrugged but what he had said struck Fushimi.

“What did you just say?”

Yata raised his head and blinked his eyes.

“Hm? There sure are people who…”

People, had Yata said as if it was natural.

“Why do you think there are several people?”

“"Why’…these photos are somehow all other the place…it just seems to me like they were taken by various people.”

When Fushimi scrolled through the pictures in reversed order while looking at them once more he too understood why Yata thought of them as all other the place. The picture quality and the hue weren’t uniform and there was a fairly wide range of distance, viewpoint and recording time.

Various people….collectively….

He only thought about it for a short moment.

“Yata. There’s something I want you to request from Oogai Aya. You have my mailing app, with that you’re connected to her, right?”

“Okay, but a message from me? Couldn’t you just contact her?”

“She hates me, doesn’t she. She’d rather listen if you talk to her.”

Yata made a surprised face and while pulling out his own PDA he muttered: “I’m pretty bad with girls but I can’t help but feel like you’re unexpectedly slower than me…”

                                                     † 

When they arrived at Fushimi’s place and waited in his room, the data was sent to Yata’s PDA through their usual mailing app roughly an hour after he had contacted Aya.

“It’s here, it’s here!”

Both of them peered into the display.

[You’re, like, asking because of Aya’s connections, right? You should at least be grateful. You wouldn’t get your information without Aya and Aya will, like, keep that in mind….]

They skimmed over the mail’s text which consisted of a long paragraph demanding grat.i.tude and only paid attention to the attached data. Aya was still a heavy user of «jungle» and had many “friends” she was connected to within «jungle» (in contrast to that she had no real friends). She had used those “friends” and gathered information about “missions” from the past for Yata.

Because they didn’t know what they were looking for they had made double sure and asked Aya to collect as many missions that had been offered during a certain time period as possible.

Fushimi was still not certain who it was who must not understand this information. But he believed that he could a.s.sure his a.s.sumption with this.

Yata was scrolling down the screen. The mission’s t.i.tles and summaries popped up one by one.

“Go back a bit…that one.”

Fushimi flicked the screen into the other direction from next to Yata’s finger. What caught Fushimi’s eyes was a mission recruiting spies.

In a bar in Shizume City are criminal dealings carried out. The partic.i.p.ants have gotten instructions from a NPC “detective” and are supposed to go after the real facts, was the kind of story the mission followed. With that kind of appearance they had skillfully stimulated the users’ interest. The first order was to take pictures of the people who frequented the bar in question, bar “HOMRA”.

“Bingo. The pictures that are exposed on that website, they’re collected from this mission.”

Bar HOMRA —- the headquarters of “The Red Monster” and a gossiped about bar. It didn’t seem likely that this was mere coincidence. The one who had set this mission had gathered the pictures that had been secretly taken of “The Red Monster”’s gang and exposed them on the internet.

“Without letting the users know what they were actually made to collaborate with they partic.i.p.ated, thinking it was a game. With letting a lot of people indiscriminately partic.i.p.ate their real goal has been made unclear. a.s.suming “The Red Monster”’s gang would’ve thought of it as suspicious and thus caught the photographers they wouldn’t have been able to deduce the truth because the ones who took the pictures are middle and high school students, just like us. “The Red Monster” who destroys other gangs in Shizume City and his gang are brutal, but even if they’d strangulate the ordinary people who are related to this mission one by one, they couldn’t destroy a gang or anything.”

“…uhh, I couldn’t keep up with what you said at all, but what exactly are we trying to find out?”

As Fushimi mumbled to himself to sort his thoughts Yata shook his head lightly and widened his eyes.

“There are people who think of “The Red Monster” as an obstruction, right? With a method “The Red Monster” can’t destroy they make people take action in Shizume City, a feint like this, a demonstration…”

“Um? So, who does that? «jungle»?”

“….who is «jungle»’s service provider anyway?”

Halfway through Fushimi wondered that himself. While he turned his eyes towards his PDA his focus wasn’t on it but on the empty s.p.a.ce right above the screen.

“Well, ‘who’, isn’t it just some kind of company? It’s written somewhere in the terms and conditions, right? Well, I haven’t read them so I wouldn’t know.”

“They’re definitely hiding their real nature. It’s not how you say, in the core of «jungle»’s structure is…”

Because the phone started to ring Fushimi startedly cut off his sentence.

It wasn’t the PDA of either of them. The irksome sound came from the first floor. Fushimi looked doubtfully towards the door.

“It’s the phone, right? And the maid isn’t here right now either, is she?”

Yata said that suggesting that Fushimi obviously had to go get the phone, but Fushimi was hesitating to stand up. The landline phone in this house seldom rang. Keeping the telephone line was unnecessary, was how little the phone rang. That woman was a person with many business and personal contacts, but everybody probably knew that she was barely at home so if they had a concern with her they contacted her directly on her PDA. And Fushimi knew nothing about that guy’s contacts and acquaintances. He didn’t know what that guy usually did when he was outside, and he didn’t want to now either.

When they waited for a few moments like this, the ringing stopped.

“They hung up, huh.”

“……was probably just telephone selling.”

For some reason Fushimi felt relieved and took his eyes off the door.

“Um, so? Saruhiko, you were saying something, right? In the core of «jungle»’s service is…?”

“…There was something I had always sensed…I can’t explain it properly, but, y"know, there is “malice”… I always disliked that.”

“Malice….?”
Yata made a meek face and swallowed.

“I told you countless times that «jungle» implants a spyware, right? The spyware sucks out the personal information in the PDA. The majority of the information from common people is useless trash, but if there is a fairly high-level text a.n.a.lyzing algorithm then they could with high accuracy salvage the useful information from within the sea of useless trash. If they’d use this algorithm they could for example extract “malicious words”. In our first year there had been that group chat mistakenly delivered to your PDA, right? It had been the reason why you had gotten excluded.”

“Eh? Ah, y- yeah, that had happened back then…right?”

Said Yata sounding like he had completely forgotten about it, and frowned.

“They are able to extract “malicious words” out of the vast amount of messages that are exchanged in «jungle» and turn them into usable data. Additionally they a.n.a.lyze the data and can so identify the person who the malice is aimed at. Then they send it to the very person….with the spyware they can of course also draw out the mail address. I’m just guessing, but what happened in our first year might have been a test use of that algorithm. You unfortunately had received those insults…..”

It wasn’t like Fushimi had just recently noticed that. He had come to this presumption more than half a year ago because online had been a rumor that “«jungle» collects people’s insults”. It seemed like users from the whole country had experienced the same thing like Yata and, Fushimi didn’t know how much of it was true, but they had even talked about suicide attempts and cases in which arguments had turned into a.s.sault and murder—even though something like this had happened the number of people who use «jungle» continued to grow. You should just quit, are you all stupid or what, is what Fushimi thought. It’s probably…because everybody uses it n.o.body can quit. You all really are stupid, is what Fushimi concluded.

“Though I don’t know what a tasteless thing like a.n.a.lyzing insults could be used for. The real purpose could be for example, to get the pa.s.sword to access confidential national information from the trifling e-mail exchanges of the state’s influential people’s families…well, it could be something like this.”

“Hoaa… That’s really amazing, Saruhiko, that you thought of something like this.”

Yata gaped his mouth open and heaved a sigh. It was only a guess but Fushimi thought that Yata felt a bit down because the truth of the incident from two years ago had been dug up. Yata was slacking with an expression as if he was terribly tired, but he suddenly made a somewhat nasty snicker and softened his face. Seems like he isn’t feeling down after all.

“You know Saruhiko, I believe that somewhere in this world there is some kind of huge power we aren’t told about. That there is some guy who possess the power to affect the world, not a politician or anything, but someone unthinkably stronger. Remember when we had chased the blimp? At that time I believed that kind of power certainly exists. But, y"know, I couldn’t have thought of that  myself. Because I am an idiot and can’t think of more than what is right in front of my eyes.”

A bit embarra.s.sed, Yata scratched his cheek and after he had said that, he heaved himself up and moved towards Fushimi.

“Saruhiko, you showed it to me. You made sure that I’d also be able to experience the existence of a world like that. I don’t understand half of the things you think about, but only listening to what you say, makes me more excited than ever.”

This time it was Fushimi who had been surprised, and he gazed back into Yata’s sparkling eyes. With the praise and affection directed straight towards Fushimi, for him Yata was an as mysterious being as “the world with some kind of huge power” Yata had talked about. Somehow that was a feeling that had his body itching to do something…like a hot propellant was plunged deep into his body, a feeling like that.

Two years ago, the time when they hadn’t been able to catch the blimp, that is, the time when Yata had firmly believed that there existed some kind of amazing power, In that time Fushimi had felt let down. Nothing had changed, is what he had thought.

But, since that time something might have started to change little by little.

“We had talked about making our own headquarters a while ago, but can’t we really do it? We said after graduating from middle school, but there is no time to put it off. Let’s actually do it right away! Let’s make a base to figure out the true colors of «jungle»’s “malice”. Our base.”

Proposed Yata, completely caught up in the moment.

“What will you do about the exams? You’re a useless guy running away, remember?”

“Ugh…th- that is, well, what about it?”

When he was pushed away for the time being, Yata got discouraged and frowned, but Fushimi was already making up his mind.

“Misaki. I won’t go to high school. Up until middle school is enough. Being forced to listen to adults’ long talks any more is only unpleasant and pointless. If you’d say this then it’d be a useless guy running away, right. So if I invite you then that’s a good excuse.”

Invite…huh. Somehow that was a fresh word. Had this kind of word lied on his tongue from his birth until now?  Inviting somebody and doing something together with them, until now Fushimi hadn’t had this kind of principle for his conduct.

“Quit with exams and stuff. Your parents will be angry, right, but just blame me, I’ll be the one your parents will resent.”

“I- I won’t blame you or anything. Don’t just proceed with the conversation on your own.”

Replied Yata promptly with an angry face.

“I decided to bear my own responsibilities. I understand already. I…won’t go to high school either! Today I’ll stop being an examinee!”

Yata cheered, jumped up with his whole body and landed face up on the bed.

“Ah, I feel refreshed somehow!”

Yata started to flail his arms on the bed and immediately baffled Fushimi. “You’re too carefree…” is what Fushimi said, but he smiled fondly at Yata and let out a small laugh.

Fushimi didn’t particularly hate studying, so he didn’t feel like the exams were difficult. But why did he have to be judged by people who were below him?

There was no need for school. They didn’t need any adults in their own world. Even if they wouldn’t be cared for by adults that didn’t inconvenience them and it would be very easy to live like that.

Building a base for two middle school students to confront an intrigue that was secretly spun somewhere in the world — only thinking about it made it seem stupid, but this seemingly stupid thing, Fushimi believed they could seriously succeed in doing it.

They weren’t hesitating or dreading. They weren’t even thinking of failure. There was nothing but impudence right now.

                                                     † 

The phone in the first floor was ringing again. Fushimi could count on one hand how often it had  happened that the phone in this house rung twice in one day since his childhood.

It was after Yata had left. Fushimi was lying down on his bed in his room and twiddling with his PDA but he took his eyes off it and turned his face towards the door.

It just didn’t stop ringing. They’re persistent this time, what the h.e.l.l…

With no other choice left Fushimi rose to his feet and left the room. In summer the air conditioner was overworking in the house, but when it became this kind of season then it was outside his room  just as chilly as outdoors. Because Fushimi had gotten out of his room barefooted his toes immediately became cold when he stepped on the hard floor that was meant to be walked on with shoes. In the first floor where no signs of humans were only continued the phone to ring. When Fushimi stood in the living room’s doorway the phone which was in a dusty nook made a green lamp flicker as if it was trying to remember its own capacity after such a long time.

Fushimi took the telephone receiver and answered.

“…..yes.”

No “h.e.l.lo”, no “Here is Fushimi”.

“h.e.l.lo. Am I right that this is Fushimi Niki-san’s home?”

Hearing that name right from the beginning made Fushimi feel regret about having answered the phone.

It was a man’s voice. It wasn’t the voice of a debt collector nor the voice of a haughty policeman, it was the calm voice of an older man.

“h.e.l.lo? Am I right that this is Fushimi Niki-san’s home?”

Because the man asked again seemingly worried, Fushimi finally answered. “…yes.”

Though he didn’t know if this place could be called the “home” of a person who comes back only for a few days in a month.

“I’m doctor at the XX general hospital. My name is Fujimine. You are the son, right? I am your father’s attending doctor. Is your mother home?”

Son? Father? Mother? When Fushimi heard in succession these words n.o.body in this house used, his heart quickly got cold.

Expressly denying it towards another person was a pain but Fushimi didn’t want to affirm it either so he answered: “There is n.o.body but me here right now.”

“I see… In what year are you? If I talk to you will you understand me?”

“I’m a middle school senior. I’ll understand it.”

Petulant, Fushimi used a mature-sounding voice to answer.

“Okay, please stay calm and listen. Your father’s condition took a sudden turn to the worse. It’s a situation where I’d like for the family to come over quickly, just in case. It is harsh but even if his condition would improve tonight, entering the new year might be difficult for your father in any case.”

Ah- come to think of it, has that brute even issued a health insurance?  Things like that were half of what Fushimi was thinking about while he listened to the doctor’s voice. Receiving support despite not being a human, this country’s system was really bulls.h.i.t.

“Is everything okay? Can you hear me?”

“I hear you. I understand.”

“That’s a relief. Then could you contact your mother right away? I’ll wait for you. You can enter through the after-hours staff entrance, please talk to the person on duty. I’ll make sure that they understand right away. Stay calm. It’s nighttime, so please be careful.”

That man’s attending doctor was too good for him. He seemed like a doctor with a good personality.

After the conversation ended Fushimi couldn’t move for a moment. He then put the phone receiver back in a slow movement.

“……Haha.”

He let out a laugh in a tone he himself thought was rare. He turned towards the ground and his shoulders trembled.

Today there had been a lot of good things. It felt like change had slowly, slowly come and when it had been here it had immediately received positive energy and increased its speed.

Hm, I’m hungry…I wonder if I should go buy something to eat. Even his mood had become rarely energetic and Fushimi went away from the phone. He never thought back to the phone call’s content again.

—-

1. the word used here is 鉄砲玉 (teppôdama), a yakuza term for a person who exists just to kill an enemy and doesn’t care about the consequences for themselves.