Published at 2nd of September 2019 2:20 pm

Volume 3, Chapter 2-A: Paw and Circumstance

This chapter is updated by NovelFree.ml

Somewhere aboveground, in the Western District.

Well, that was a close shave.

The Guard Team’s grasp on my movements just keeps improving. This almost never happens with anyone else.

…I guess that’s natural, since most other people who’ve seen me move are dead.

They would have got me if that pile of junk hadn’t collapsed. I would’ve made it out alive, probably. But not without a couple of deep injuries.

Today’s just not my day.

No, I’m not saying the grenade was because I was unlucky. I was unlucky that I ran into the Guard Team. I just wanted to enjoy myself at the casino. Why are they so desperate to get me?

Because I’m a killer?

That can’t be.

If you look at it that way, the Southeast Asian mafia in the Eastern District and the Chinese mafia in the West have a higher kill count. Or are they letting them off the hook because they’re mafia too?

Then I think they could extend that favor to me, too.

I mean, I don’t kill people to stuff my pockets.

…

I swear that I am more normal than them.

I am definitely normal.

They only want to be violent. Those gangs were formed to do bad things.

Mafia, yakuza, gangsters, they’re all the same. They don’t hesitate to turn to violence. That’s why they’re strong… and rich, probably.

And if you do go all-out as a gangster but still end up dirt-poor, you might as well get a proper part-time job to pay the bills.

Yes. That’s right. Those people are not normal.

Here is my proof. Even though I was holding Miss Nazuna hostage, that Guard Team member threw the grenade at us. ‘Evade’? That goes against every law of logic, morality, love, society, and evolution I know of!

Why…? Why is Miss Nazuna one of them?

She’s too lovely to be in the Guard Team.

She knew I could kill her, but she was determined to fight nonetheless.

I think that’s incredible.

It’s awe-inspiring. Just like the heroes I saw on TV and in comic books growing up.

In spite of her wounds, she would have faith in her friends and defeat her enemies. …Although it unfortunately happens that a simple misunderstanding cast me as her enemy, once we solve that trivial mistake we’ll be able to smile together.

…But the Guard Team betrayed her.

If she had died then, I would never have forgiven them. …Hm? But I was holding her, so there was no way she could have died. Because I am going to protect Miss Nazuna no matter what.

Or maybe I can’t protect her. But I believe I can. Because having firm determination makes me stronger. Well, problem solved.

…Wait! That was close. I almost ended up forgiving the bad guys with a self-resolution again!

Right. The conclusion isn’t the problem here.

The problem here is the fact that they tried to kill Miss Nazuna along with me.

…Wait.

Maybe Miss Nazuna told them beforehand, ‘Don’t worry about me—kill us both if you have to!’. Then… no no no no no no no no no no. The old guy told her to evade!

In other words, they’re awful people. The mafia is crazy, not me. But Miss Nazuna is one of them and chased me down, seeing me as an enemy—a killer. So in other words, I am a bad guy to this island, but because this island is the one that made me into the Killer Ghoul I am innocent and normal and therefore things should work out between Miss Nazuna and me.

Hm. I think I’m confusing myself.

In other words, there shouldn’t have been any obstacles between us in the first place!

Huzzah! Now I can stand by her side!

…Wait. Then why are we on opposite sides again?

I… I’m on the right track, aren’t I?

Sometimes these thoughts overwhelm me and I lose myself.

Maybe, I think, I’m the only crazy person in the world and everything else is normal.

Some people say that the world is made up of only what they can see, but I don’t agree. Who knows? There just might be a heated workplace drama underway in the factory where the sneakers I wear were made.

…Wait. That’s not right. That is something I can technically see. If I’m including cause and effect.

I don’t know what kind of drama might have happened around this pair of sneakers, but I am looking at the sneakers that resulted from that drama. Even the money in my wallet is there through a sequence of events I couldn’t have seen, involving politicians or businesspeople and their hard work or corruption or sense of justice.

…But none of that is something I can see with my own two eyes.

An overwhelming majority of what takes place in the world is unknown to me.

And most of what supports the world I can see with my eyes are supported by actions I can’t see.

…That scares me.

How does the world outside my scope of vision see me?

I am most definitely not insane.

It must be true, because I say so.

If the world is composed of everything I can think of…

Then my opinions couldn’t be wrong. Because everything is my world.

But the world doesn’t belong to me.

…I’m normal.

I’m normal. I’m okay. I’m still all right. It was all normal—my birth, my life, my childhood, my education, my fun memories, my disappointment, my enjoyment…

And now, I’ve fallen in love like a normal person.

I admit it. I’ll finally admit it.

I love Miss Nazuna. I only became convinced of that today. The moment I caught her in my arms as she fell unconscious… I almost wanted to run off with her. But I didn’t. I am not a stalker. I could never do such a thing while her heart hasn’t come around to me.

That was why I left her with the most kind-looking people there… a foreign couple, I think.

I suppose the volunteer police must have retrieved her and taken her to a doctor. Or maybe the foreigners are letting her rest somewhere.

…All right. I’ll try looking for the couple later.

Then, when I find Miss Nazuna… what am I supposed to say?

I think I should start by clearing up this misunderstanding. I am the Killer Ghoul; but I am only a killer because I am on this island. I have to explain that my status as a killer is the natural result of my being influenced by this unusual setting. Outside this island, I am a perfectly normal civilian. And I have something to brag about, though it’s not much.

I’m a little confident in my dancing skills. I’ve done everything from breakdancing to ballroom dancing, to traditional Japanese dance to Noh. That’s right. Come to think of it, before I came to this island I crossed over to Sado because I wanted to learn more about Noh. Of course, my favorite dances are tap-dancing and Beijing opera-style sword dancing—the flashy stuff—but right now… I’d love to try folk dancing with Miss Nazuna. Just like in good old elementary school, we could dance around a campfire in the middle of the school field and make memories together.

I once won a nationwide dance competition. I don’t know if I have a talent for teaching, but I think I can at least show an example that’s easy to learn from.

No. Actually, I don’t even need to teach Miss Nazuna.

I’d be happy even if all she did was watch.

Because just being with her would satisfy me.

…Wait a second.

That’s not it. That’s not the issue here. The important thing is how to explain myself to Miss Nazuna.

I have to prove that I am normal.

Normalcy… well, first, you’d have to define the standard of normalcy, but I think being ‘ordinary’ is important. After all, the ‘ordinary’—the majority—is becoming more and more important in society.

In that sense, all I ever did was ordinary. Studying, playing, going off quietly into my own thoughts… it was all ordinary.

I’m normal.

When I was little, I would always step on the white stripes on the crosswalk when I was crossing the road.

I’m normal.

I believed I could bend spoons with my mind, so whenever I watched a psychic on television I begged my parents to buy me a new spoon.

I’m normal.

In the end I never gained psychic powers and bent the spoon by force with a straight face, then showed off to my family and friends. It was only in junior high school that I realized that everyone already knew I was bluffing.

I’m normal.

I was the child who looked up at the sky and thought it would be fun to drop things from the clouds. …So I decided to drop all the characters from my favorite anime from the sky.

I’m normal.

It occurred to me that it was about time for the Takecopter(1) to be invented.

I’m normal.

In the middle of the night, I curled up under the blankets. And I fantasized about taking a spare pocket from a blue cat-shaped robot into a different anime. With tools from the 22nd century, I would be invincible. And with my favorite villains at my side, I would mock the heroes.

I’m normal. I’m normal. I’m normal…

When I could no longer remember any more of my childhood, I refreshed myself with a stretch.

The ruined buildings were full of life. I looked up, standing between then. The sky between the grey walls looked so blue.

Gazing into the narrow sky, I began to think like a junior high student who thought he knew everything, even though he hadn’t taken a single step into the real world. ‘Why do I exist?’.

I’ve never actually taken a step into the real world.

…All the memories I looked back on are of my childhood.

I came over to this island before I finished high school… and I became the Killer Ghoul. A criminal, from the outside world’s perspective. Someone who is clearly deranged.

I’ve never experienced real life. The only money I’ve ever earned for myself was the prize from the dance contest.

I was from a well-off family, and I could get my hands on most anything I wanted. But I wasn’t coddled. If I went too far, I’d get a slap from Father. Mother would use her fists. But about three years later, I came to see that that was all my own fault.

But… the parents who would hit me are not on this island. A boy like me, who hadn’t ever held down a real part-time job, had crossed over to an island with no real part-time jobs.

How ironic. By the time I came to that realization, I’d already killed many people, and the island was awash with rumors about me being a mass murderer.

Not many people look at my face and go, ‘Hey, it’s Yakumo Amagiri!’. Although it’s a different story with the Guard Team and the Eastern District’s executives, who’ve seen photos of me.

‘Yakumo Amagiri’ is just a pseudonym.

On this island, I am the Killer Ghoul. When I return to the outside world someday, I have to leave behind the Killer Ghoul persona. in other words, ‘Yakumo Amagiri’ is the glue that holds my persona and the island together.

I don’t need to reveal my real name on this island. It’s possible to live on here without ever telling anyone your name, so ‘Yakumo Amagiri’ is enough for me.

With these thoughts, I turned a corner in the narrow, tangled alleyways and immediately did a 180 as I stopped.

For a split second I spotted a silhouette in the direction I was walking from, looking as though it were spying on something.

The figure’s eyes widened as they noticed me hiding behind the corner, but escape was impossible. He could not even scream. By then, I had stuck my thumb into his mouth and grabbed his jaw with my fingers to drag him toward me.

A stranger.

He’s a mess. Unnecessarily so. Even on this island you rarely run into people dressed like this. They say that inexperienced reporters from the mainland dress like this when they come to the island in an attempt to blend in. But it looks like he has no idea it makes him stick out like a sore thumb. Poor thing.

I glanced at his face and tried to figure out his age, but quit.

If he were a buxom lady, I would have stared all the way into the layers of her makeup, but I have no interest in scruffy men.

“…Why are you following me?”

“Gah…”

He must have had no idea I could have been lying in wait for him. His face twisted in an instant, but not into fear—yet.

Did he follow me because he knows who I am? Or…

“Sorry. I’m actually the Killer Ghoul. So I think I’m going to kill you.”

“Huh…? K-Killa Ghoul…?”

I tried to coax information out of him, but the man just showed a half-smile. I think he thinks I’m joking around.

So he doesn’t know who I am?

“W-wait. I washn’t hollowin you! It’s a hishunderstandin!”

As the man made excuses, I reached into his clothes and pulled out a card-shaped digital camera.

“Ah…”

Anxiety flitted over his face, but that doesn’t matter.

Because I was still holding his jaw with my right hand, I used my left to turn on the camera and check its contents—Bingo. Photos of me, no question.

Hm. Was this after I left Miss Nazuna at the junkyard? Did this bastard blend with the crowd and happen to find me there?

Oh well.

First, I have to blow off this anxiety.

“I don’t know why you were sniffing around like that, but to be honest… it bothered me. The way you were mousing around me.”

“W-wai—here we out!”

His pronunciation’s great for a guy whose jaw I’m holding.

But I’m not going to forgive him. I refuse to hear him out.

“Although if you were a rodent like Nejiro, I might have spared you.”

“N-Nejiro?”

“Hm? You’ve never heard of him? I see. You’re new to this island, aren’t you. Nejiro is king over the rats on this island. They’re such tiny little rats. Those children, you know, are everywhere. It’s a little different from being able to go anywhere. Me and people like Yua can get anywhere, but those rats are different. Those rats, you see, are everywhere. That’s the important part. I’m emphasizing the everywhere because it’s most important. They spread into every corner of the city to nibble away at people and even the island itself. They’re some of the more annoying things around here. Although they’re no problem for me. Their eyes look completely empty, but at the same time they’re like mirrors. They reflect their leader Nejiro’s eyes. Sad and lonely, but unable to see that that’s what they look like themselves. I can’t say I know what they’re thinking. Just like you don’t understand a Killer Ghoul like me, I don’t understand rats. But it’s strange. They look like rodents to me, so I never get the urge to kill them. I’m a killer, not a butcher.”

I had to take breaths in between, but I tried to keep up a machine gun pace.

I did that to make sure the pitiful man never had the chance to interject. So I would cut off his apologies and pleas and even his breath.

At the end of my statements, the man was already silent.

He was just staring at my jaw, trembling in fear and already having given up on thinking of escaping. Huh. I was just rambling while making eye contact. Why is he so scared? Maybe putting more and more pressure into my grip was having an effect.

Oh well.

I decided to give the man an opportunity and tell him a story that was going around the island. The perfect story to teach him just what kind of a place this island is.

“All right. I’ll tell you. The legend behind the poor, sweet rats that nest on this island. You should pray that I change my mind while I talk. That I change my mind about killing you. That’s right. It was just about when the casino opened up in the Eastern District…”

“…and that’s how Nejiro really became the Rat King. And they all lived happily for a while. Wow, what a relief. Isn’t it great that he didn’t die at the hands of that awful sharp-eyed Chinese witch?”

I didn’t cry, but I put a lot of emotion into the telling. I embellished the story a little, but even I have to pat myself on the back for the scene where Yili strangles the Rats with her own hair.

But that’s that, and this is this.

“I suppose I should kill you after all… hm?”

I looked at the man, but he was gone. …Huh. When did I let go of him? I don’t remember.

Inconceivable! I must have gotten so absorbed in the story that I let the stalker escape.

“No way… he ran. I guess there’s nothing I can do.”

That was what my mouth said, but I didn’t feel that way.

I was furious with myself, but I decided to give up.

I wanted to grind his bones to powder, but only crazy people would do that to someone who doesn’t fight back.

…Damn it.

Something’s not right.

Normally, I would have outrun someone like him and left.

But I went out of my way to catch him and even threatened him. That wasn’t like me at all.

…Not good. Anger makes people hesitate.

And hesitation makes people strange. So for someone like me, who insists on a normal life, anger is not an option. …Wait. Anger is an instinct born from evolution. Maybe trying to hold it back is abnormal? …Actually, is anger even an instinctual emotion? I feel like it might be fundamentally different from things like fear or lust.

Not good. This is putting me on edge.

I should change my pace. Go meet someone. It might be best to meet someone and unwind before I go to see Miss Nazuna.

That’s right… maybe I should visit Nejiro’s haunt. The protagonist of that story I told.

I wonder how those mice are doing these days.

I think they hate me… or actually, they’re scared of me. But I’m fond of them.

Reining in my endless anxiety, I moved to leave the alley. But a moment later, a familiar voice reached my ears and sent my anxiety through the roof.

…I heard an agitating voice.

Yes. I did hear the infinitely agitating voice!

That’s right. I feel so anxious because I heard this voice. Let’s just say that’s what happened. I didn’t actually hear this voice before, but I’ll just pretend I did.

“…Shut up, Joplin.”

Spring-heeled Joplin is no sane person, no matter how much I think about it.

He’s supposedly a present-tense urban legend that people often mention alongside me.

He appears everywhere on the island to give advice to some and warnings to others.

From the way he talks I think he might be a foreigner, but it also kind of feels like he’s doing that on purpose.

He is a fickle creature that points a starving runaway girl a way out of the island’s labyrinth, but at the same time leads curious reporters and their sort to the casino or the Pits to bring them to a cruel end.

I don’t know how long he’s been on this island, and I don’t know why he’s here.

And since rumors about his appearance are inconsistent, half the talk is probably just that. Rumors. …Although in that case, the other half must be true.

There are a lot of theories on the true identity of Spring-heeled Joplin. From a crony of the Eastern District’s boss to a Western District exec, to a pawn of a political faction from the mainland. But because less than half the island even believes he exists, I don’t think any amount of theorizing is going to produce an answer.

He is this island’s very own madness incarnate. Someone who’s completely removed from common sense.

Getting involved is only going to mess with my head. This isn’t good. I don’t like this at all. The crazier someone is, the more normal they think they are or the more they convince themselves they’re working for some great purpose, which makes them harder to deal with.

I tried to ignore him, but his words wouldn’t stop reaching my ears.

Thunk. I heard a pleasant noise.

Crushing the tin toy fixed with a radio that was rolling around my feet, I tried to leave the alley—

“Meow.”

…But a cat with a radio tied around its body strolled toward me.

<—on you. Heh heh… That was cruel of you.>

Damn it! I can’t bring myself to crush it!

A simple trick that utilized my love of cats. I wouldn’t have batted an eye about stomping on a rhinoceros or a cow!

“I suppose I should apologize to the tin toy artisan if I ever meet them.”

“I’m so sorry that I’m wracked with guilt on the inside. Now go die.”

Joplin lets out a muffled laugh.

“What do you mean?”

I realized something, then.

The presences that had been slinking around me were all gone.

It is silent now, as if time’s been stopped. It is just me and the cat.

“…The final twist better not be that all those people following me were actually your goons.”

That’s what I said, but I know it’s not true.

Joplin would keep tabs on me even if he were alone, and he’s not foolish enough for me to notice him. That means he must have somehow gotten rid of all the people who were tailing me. Judging from his personality, he’s probably avoided violence and resorted to cajolery instead… or threatened them.

How does he do it? He is abnormal. But to be honest, I’m glad to lose all those tails.

“Fine. I’m grateful for that. But why are strangers keeping tabs on me?”

…I feel angry. I should have seen this coming. I was an idiot for feeling grateful.

“Then why did you help me, I wonder?”

I wasn’t expecting a very specific answer, but Joplin betrayed my expectations.

My identity? Oh. Something like, ‘the boy who won the dance contest all those years ago was the Killer Ghoul’? But that’s the other way around. Because I, the Killer Ghoul, am the mask. And without my mask… off this island, I could go straight back to being an ordinary young man.

I could explain, but this is such a long line of thought that I decided not to correct Joplin and instead continued the conversation.

“…Even if outsiders figure out who I am, I’m the only one who’d lose anything. Although if my parents decided to commit suicide or something I’d stop them somehow.”

I played with the cat, which seemed to be used to humans, and untied the radio. Then I flung the chattering box against the wall.

The cat mewled, frightened, and leapt away from me.

As soon as it disappeared from sight, emptiness rose from my gut and pressed against my heart. Being lonely also makes me afraid, but this sensation against my gut felt a little good.

But there is no one here anymore I can share this emotion with.

No one.

Nothing is here.

It’s empty. Everything is hollow.

To my eyes, the blue sky seems only like a symbol of nothingness.

…This is isolation.

It’s very lonely.

I want to see Miss Nazuna.

But would I scare her if I came out of the blue?

Would she start thinking about me the way I think about Joplin?

Damn it… I’d rather die than be treated the same as that sick creep.

…Hm?

…I see.

I get it.

I realized something. I understood something.

It’s because I’m a legend. Because I’m so unrealistic. That’s why the Guard Team is itching to get rid of me. Because supernatural things like magic and myth are only a nuisance to those who want to enforce control over the people.

Maybe Miss Nazuna doesn’t look at me as human because I’m an urban legend. Yes. That must be it!

Then it’s about time I told them.

It’s time for me to tell those who control this island that my fangs can indeed pierce their necks.

It’s about time for the island to know, I think.

That I am no legend, but a reality.

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