Volume 4, Chapter 4-A: Wolf in the West
The rooftop of an abandoned building somewhere near the center of the island.
Ah, the wind feels great.
The sun shines on me, and as it reflects against the concrete it warms my body.
There isn’t a pile of rubble in sight; all around is a clean, drab world. The rooftop is relatively low, but because the building’s stairs have all collapsed, only athletic people like me can get here.
I like places where I can be alone.
Because not meeting anyone means that I won’t have to kill anyone.
If I want to remain ‘me’—if only to constantly prove that the individual called Yakumo Amagiri is normal—alone time is absolutely essential.
In that sense, this is a marvelous place.
For being a slice of this incurably crazy island, it’s such a comfortable spot.
“…Yawn…”
I wiped the tears that came with the yawn and lay down on my back on the concrete.
With my gaze on the endlessly clear blue sky, I thought about myself.
When I was in junior high school, I always thought about who I was and what my purpose was.
…Actually, I did a bit of that in high school, too. Not when I won the dance competition, though… That’s it. Maybe when people lose their purpose or get too bored, they occupy themselves with idle thoughts.
The sky is blue today, too.
So will that make me want to kill again today?
…That’s the reasoning I’ve given myself, but I might be reaching my limit.
In the past, I didn’t have the time to spare thinking up reasons for killing people—I was busy trying to survive, and it would have taken forever.
So how did it come to this?
I killed people because the sky is blue.
That should have been enough. I’d never questioned that.
…It’s all because of what happened two months ago.
After what happened with Miss Nazuna, I changed.
I think… after I came to this island, I became desensitized to killing people. After my first kill, I was obviously lost and lost and lost and scared and scared and scared out of my wits. I felt sick to my stomach. I did throw up. It’s a terrible memory. I remember I spent three whole hours mulling over it. It’s not a long time to other people, but it was painful for me because I think just a little faster than most.
And it was the endlessly clear sky on this island that cured me of that sickness. But now that I think about it, it’s this island’s fault in the first place that I killed people, so does this mean I’m breaking even? Plus and minus and zero? So since I’m at zero… now what?
Is this island a plus to me, or a minus? Wait. Before that, was my life before the island in the plus zone or the minus zone? Is it even right to put such two-dimensional labels on my entire life? This isn’t good. Not good at all. Is this what they mean by ‘gaming brains’ of the digital age? Hm. It’s all right, then. I never played a lot of video games, so according to what a certain scholar says, I don’t have a gaming brain.
In other words… I’m normal.
Normal… Yeah. Thinking fast has nothing to do with your moral character.
What a relief. It’s such a relief to know that I won’t go crazy today.
I looked up at the sky and found myself getting emotional. So I slowly thought about myself. Nothing as deep as philosophy, though.
Why did I come to the island? Maybe once I solve that question, I’ll find an answer.
When did it start?
In elementary school… I was normal. At least, I think I was.
My family wasn’t normal, but there was nothing I could do about that. Apparently we were well-off and well-known in the area, and I remember Father was a member of the prefectural assembly. I heard one of my relatives was a member of the National Diet, but I don’t think the younger me was interested enough to remember the details.
It was a life of freedom. I’d gone through the motions of crying and laughing and bullying and being bullied, but never to extremes. Lifting girls’ skirts or getting clobbered by the big kid on the street was as bad as it got.
I liked music.
I thought I’d wanted to be a musician or a singer when I grew up, but for some reason I wasn’t passionate about it. I think I was just starting junior high school when I realized that I preferred moving to the songs other people made instead of composing them myself.
So I began practicing.
Little by little, I trained. But I guess it didn’t seem so little to other people. It must have been around then that I realized I thought a little quickly.
The more I focused, the slower time seemed to flow.
I never talked about it with anyone.
I thought it was normal.
I thought everyone could do it.
It was only when I started getting strange tests, where they put funny machines on my head and took measurements, that I realized I was wrong. It happened to be around when I broke up with my girlfriend, so I remember I was having a hard time in a lot of ways.
No. That’s fine. I don’t really mind that I was treated like a guinea pig.
But what I couldn’t accept was that other people found out about my quick thinking.
I hadn’t done anything.
I’d never told anyone. In fact, I hadn’t even known until the doctor explained during the test.
…I became afraid.
Yes. I became afraid.
Someone other than me knew the me even I didn’t know. It was like realizing that a stranger had been spying on me for a very long time.
Yes. That became the trigger, and I slowly became distorted.
I honestly don’t know where the distortions began. Maybe it was in society, or maybe it was in the life I wanted for myself.
It was like I was getting twisted. I went out at dark and got into fights, and in the end, I ran away from home without finding a solution.
But with nowhere to go, I found myself turning to the abandoned island—a place I knew only through television, magazines, and the internet. Now that I think about it, it was an idiotic decision.
That’s right… If all I’d done was come to the island, I still could have gone back.
Yes. Things quickly went wrong. Days passed, and my outlook on life hadn’t changed. So I was just considering going home when I was mugged.
I’d gotten better at fighting, but I never thought he’d pull out a gun.
To be honest, I was scared. I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do. Death… That’s right. Until that moment, I had never faced death. I’d only just started high school—remembering how I’d stayed up all night as an elementary schooler crying in fear of what happened after death, I trembled.
That’s as far as I remember.
No… I lied. I just lied to myself. I actually remember what happened after that.
I ended up moving out of the way of the muzzle and twisted his arm upwards.
I thought, once the gun was pointed at him, he would drop the gun—but before the dull mugger understood what was going on, he pulled the trigger… and blew half his face off. Ugh… just thinking about it nauseates me.
…From then on, I became afraid to leave the island.
It was the island’s fault that I became a killer. If not for this island, things would have been different. …But… but what if I left the island, and nothing changed?
In fact, was it even acceptable for an abnormal person like me—someone who’s committed murder—to go back? At that point, I was scared stiff. I wonder… in places with war or poor security, where death is common, do the people there not worry about these things? Or maybe they do?
…Not good. I almost went on another tangent.
Anyway… I think I’ve started thinking too much these days.
In the years I spent on this island, my killer’s mask settled over my face. Now I just have to wait for the right moment to take it off.
Will the day ever come that I can leave the island? Maybe this is what shut-ins feel when they refuse to leave the house. People have it rough.
That’s right. I’m not the only one who has it rough.
There’s no point in mumbling to myself about it.
Right now… I just do what I have to do.
That’s what I thought, but the weather today stole my motivation.
I want to fall asleep with the tepid wind on my skin. I want to wake up. My feelings are getting jumbled. I wonder which opinion’s coming from the angel and which one’s coming from the devil.
If only there was something to motivate me, I’d get to my feet in an instant.
And rather quickly, the motivation came to me.
I heard a clatter.
Before I knew it, a girl was standing on the nearly-empty rooftop.
Oh. Her. As quiet as ever.
She wears a somewhat eye-catching Chinese dress and a pair of beautiful white flowers in her hair. She still looks young, but she’s beautiful. Although the robotic face she’s always making detracts from all that.
We’ve only met a couple of times, and I don’t know her name, but she was one of the few people who could use this rooftop.
She’s always holding a lead pipe in her right hand, and I’ve seen her elsewhere with some of the Rats or talking with the Western District executives. From her looks she must be part of the organization.
It’s probably been about three months now since we began to meet here like this. I’ve come up to the rooftop a few times when she was already sprawled out asleep, but each time I climbed back down because I didn’t want to wake her. I know I’m being too sensitive, but it’s kind of awkward to sleep in the same place with a girl you’re not even dating.
But… even though I still have no idea what she’s thinking, if she’s affiliated with the Western District’s organization, she might have come today to find me.
A girl and a lead pipe. It’s a strange combination, but not one to be underestimated. This island is home to a girl who dual-wields chainsaws.
“Hey. It’s been a while.”
First, I greeted her and waited for her reaction.
She’s quiet and has a distinctive way of speaking, so we’ve never really talked. But—
“I sleeeeeep.”
As usual, the blank-eyed girl said exactly what she needed to say and no more. Did her empty gaze speak for the darkness in her heart, or was she just sleepy? I had no way of knowing. And knowing wouldn’t change a thing, anyway.
“It is recently. I see rat children. It is in island. I see rats. I hug rats. I pet rats. It is adorable. I hug. …Sleepy. Sleeeeeep…”
Her long lead pipe dragging against the ground, she passes me by and lies down where I had been lying just before.
“It is warm. It is cozy. Sleeeeeep.”
The hem of her clothes became messy, but she didn’t seem to care. As mysterious as ever, but people like her were not unusual on the island. Evidence for just how crazy this island is. Hm? Wait. Even in a normal school you’d find at least one or two strange girls like her—wait wait wait. A girl sauntering around with a lead pipe? This goes beyond simple cat fights.
At that moment, the girl’s eyes opened slightly and she spoke.
“It is white clothes. It is white skin. You take off clothes.”
“Huh?”
What does she mean, I should take my clothes off? Talk about an awkward seduction. What do I do? She’s beautiful, but all her gloom drops my romantic interest in her to the negatives. I’ve never even seen her as a woman.
But it looks like I was jumping to conclusions.
Mechanically, she gave me a word of warning.
“Now, Elder Brother search. Elder Sister search. Father search. Killer Ghoul wear white clothes. Searching. You wear white clothes. If mistake, die. It is careful.”
It was a series of incomplete sentences, but her meaning was clear. In fact, I could only understand them because it was me.
I see. So she’s a Western District executive… and probably related by blood to their leaders. Come to think of it, she has the same eyes as Yili. Then she must be a daughter of Ei daren, the head of the Western District.
It was surprising, but not completely unexpected. I wasn’t taken aback.
“…I see. I’ll be careful. But what if I’m the Killer Ghoul?”
Anyone would jump to that conclusion first. A man in white sprawled out lazily on a rooftop like this. Even I would think that was suspicious.
Because she’s clearly younger than me, I could talk to her easily. Maybe it was because of my strict upbringing that I’m deferential to my elders by habit. After running away from home, I could act violent with people of any age—but I could never make friendly conversation with older people. That’s probably why the Guard Team assumes I’m so quiet.
“You, Killer Ghoul? You, Yakumo Amagiri? It is you?”
She lazily opened her eyes and sighed, shaking her head.
“…No. Killer Ghoul is not you. No bloodlust. If Killer Ghoul, killed me. I nap. I am defenseless.”
It looks like she knows I left her alone when she was sleeping on the rooftop. That was a bit of a surprise. I changed my mind about her slightly.
“…Or maybe I am the Killer Ghoul, but I just happened to not want to kill you.”
“If Killer Ghoul, I kill. It is good. Now, sleepy. Sleeeeeep.”
Why does she only lengthen the word ‘sleep’, I wondered uselessly, but I quickly righted my thoughts and continued the conversation.
“So you can sense bloodlust?”
“I execute. For organization. Kill many. Many. Many. Bad people for organization. Many. Assassin. So I know.”
…Is she really allowed to disclose so much information?
And I’m not sure a lead pipe is the best weapon for an assassin.
I expected nothing less of the island. There are so many strange people here, regardless of affiliation. They’re abnormal. …Looking at them convinces me that I am still normal. In that sense, maybe I should love this girl and all the other abnormal people here as my neighbors. …In theory, anyway.
As I came to an understanding of sorts and turned to leave, the sleepy-eyed girl spoke.
“And… If Killer Ghoul, take off white clothes. Early.”
“Oh… You’re right.”
When I turned, she was already fast asleep.
She looked like a defenseless girl now. But if she can sense people approach in that state, she must have the instincts of a hardened mercenary.
I turned and headed for a corner of the roof.
When I looked up, the charred black wall of a building leapt into my sights.
It’s been two months already since the explosion, but it’s as real as if it were yesterday. Two whole months… And the culprit’s still at large.
In any case, I was flabbergasted at first.
That happened to be around the time I reached many turning points in my life.
One night, explosions shook the island and filled the city with a glow like sunset.
With the explosions and its many casualties as the trigger, the island was stirred into a frenzy.
A whirlwind of emotions coursed through the city as if the island was one large organism. All kinds of rumors spread throughout the people like a rejection of the explosions. Rumors about the culprit. Rumors about diplomacy between the Western District and Eastern District. And even unlikely rumors about foreign terrorists hiding out on the island.
And though it brought a wry smile to my lips, some rumors claimed that I was the culprit.
Come to think of it, I even heard rumors that the rainbow-haired demon had come back to the Pits. I think his name was Inui. I ran into him just once, but he was interesting. From the way he moved, he was a lot like the Guard Team. But the difference was that he never moved with teamwork in mind. He was a loner.
In any case, one big fire was enough to bring incredible change to the island. I couldn’t say how exactly, but the air was clearly colder than before.
There have been several more bombings since then, but the first was the most influential. After all, you can see the scorch marks from anywhere aboveground.
Averting my gaze from the exhausting sight, I looked down at the rubble spread under my feet.
Yes. I am standing on the rooftop of a relatively low building.
From the edge I can see messy snapshots of daily life, just a few dozen meters below.
I quietly stepped off the side, indulging in a moment of weightlessness.
I focus. The world slowly rises around me. In other words, I am falling.
Everything is in slow motion, including me. Like a frame-by-frame shot of a droplet falling into a glass of milk. Elegantly. Lithely.
I placed my right foot on a jutting piece of steel, and dampened the impact by slowly bending my knee. At the same time, I bent halfway to grab another piece of steel to steady my momentum. …But it’s sad no one can listen to me explain all this. Simply put, I climbed onto something mid-fall.
It was a bother to have to climb all this metal in order to reach the rooftop. But if I put a ladder here or something, the rooftop will become another pile of filth and people. The building is inaccessible because of the loads of construction materials piled up inside; I have no intention of opening up my little oasis to the public.
I see. I understand exactly why manga characters lie on earthen pipes stacked in grassy lots. It just feels good, looking up at the sky when no one’s near, lazing around as much as you want. So much that you end up wanting to monopolize it.
But I don’t want to go so far as to fight over my oasis. Not even the sleeping girl up there comes very often.
Come to think of it, I wonder how she made it up there. Does she have a trick she uses with her lead pipe? I was curious, but I was uncomfortable asking when we weren’t even that close. And if she’s supposed to be an assassin, she’s probably athletic at least… I am curious to know how someone who reveals her identity like that climbs up a wall like this.
As I lost myself in useless thoughts, my body slowly fell between the steel beams.Clack clack. Clack clack. Clack clack. Clack clack. Like a ladder-daruma dropping from one rung to the next.
Once I’ve come to a certain height, I jump over to a nearby window. There was never any glass inside to begin with. It fascinates me because it shows just how derelict this building is.
Alone again, I remembered what the girl had said.
The real Yakumo Amagiri would have switched out of his clothes.
She’s right. In fact, she hit the nail on the head. Even a baby knows that you have to start with your clothes or your hairstyle when you’re disguising yourself. But I never thought of that.
I think I’m afraid.
I’m afraid of casting aside my Killer Ghoul mask. Of casting aside ‘Yakumo Amagiri’ and going back to the real me.
I’m scared that the recoil from all the time I’ve worn this mask will crush my body and my mind.
Then for now, I just have to live as my mask dictates.
On this island.
On this liberating island, where the Killer Ghoul is allowed to exist.
…Wait a sec.
What was I just thinking?!
Objectively speaking, it’s this island’s fault to begin with that I’m in this mess.
I can’t let myself think well of the island.
No. This isn’t good. I really must be getting tired these days. But… I can’t run from this particular question.
What is this island to me?
I sound like a bored elementary schooler wondering what life is all about, but this is a question I inevitably have to answer. A human being falls into decline the moment he stops thinking. And dies. There is a cause for everything—for my being on this island, for people being killed, for people becoming Killer Ghouls, for people becoming perfect saints.
And, naturally, there must be a cause behind the state of this island.
Then… somewhere out there must be a cause that will free me from these chains—this island—and let me return to my original world.
But I can look for that cause some other time.
I simply do what I have to do.
For myself.
For the me I believe in.
Why am I moving, when it might not benefit me in the least?
It must be because the sky is blue.
So in the end, that’s my answer.
I think that’s good enough.
I’m the only one who reads my thoughts, so things are fine as long as I’m convinced.
The biggest problem, then, is the fact that I’m not really convinced.
But I move anyway.
That’s right. Right now, I have to—
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