Etsusa Bridge Volume 4, 4-A: Wolf in the West

Volu 4, Chapter 4-A: Wolf in the West

The rooftop of an abandoned building sowhere near the center of the island.

Ah, the wind feels great.

The sun shines on , 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 can get here.

I like places where I can be alone.

Because not eting anyone ans that I won’t have to kill anyone.

If I want to remain ‘’—if only to constantly prove that the individual called Yakumo Amagiri is normal—alone ti 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 ca 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 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 ti to spare thinking up reasons for killing people—I was busy trying to survive, and it would have taken forever.

So how did it co 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 ca to this island, I beca 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 mory. I rember I spent three whole hours mulling over it. It’s not a long ti to other people, but it was painful for because I think just a little faster than most.

And it was the endlessly clear sky on this island that cured 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 an I’m breaking even? Plus and minus and zero? So since I’m at zero… now what?

Is this island a plus to , 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-dinsional labels on my entire life? This isn’t good. Not good at all. Is this what they an by ‘gaming brains’ of the digital age? Hm. It’s all right, then. I never played a lot of video gas, 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 co to the island? Maybe once I solve that question, I’ll find an answer.

When did it start?

In elentary 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 rember Father was a mber of the prefectural assembly. I heard one of my relatives was a mber of the National Diet, but I don’t think the younger was interested enough to rember 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 extres. 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 so 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 ti seed 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 asurents, that I realized I was wrong. It happened to be around when I broke up with my girlfriend, so I rember I was having a hard ti 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 beca afraid.

Yes. I beca afraid.

Soone other than knew the even I didn’t know. It was like realizing that a stranger had been spying on for a very long ti.

Yes. That beca the trigger, and I slowly beca 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 ho 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 co 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 ho 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 mont, I had never faced death. I’d only just started high school—rembering how I’d stayed up all night as an elentary schooler crying in fear of what happened after death, I trembled.

That’s as far as I rember.

No… I lied. I just lied to myself. I actually rember 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 .

…From then on, I beca afraid to leave the island.

It was the island’s fault that I beca 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 —soone 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 mont to take it off.

Will the day ever co 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 sothing to motivate , I’d get to my feet in an instant.

And rather quickly, the motivation ca to .

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 sowhat 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 t a couple of tis, and I don’t know her na, 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 so 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 et here like this. I’ve co up to the rooftop a few tis when she was already sprawled out asleep, but each ti 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 sa 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 co today to find .

A girl and a lead pipe. It’s a strange combination, but not one to be underestimated. This island is ho 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 by and lies down where I had been lying just before.

“It is warm. It is cozy. Sleeeeeep.”

The hem of her clothes beca ssy, 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 mont, 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 an, 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.

chanically, she gave 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 aning was clear. In fact, I could only understand them because it was .

I see. So she’s a Western District executive… and probably related by blood to their leaders. Co to think of it, she has the sa 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 , 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 ho, 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 assus 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 . 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 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 ca 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 rcenary.

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 ti 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, so rumors claid that I was the culprit.

Co to think of it, I even heard rumors that the rainbow-haired demon had co back to the Pits. I think his na 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 ssy snapshots of daily life, just a few dozen ters below.

I quietly stepped off the side, indulging in a mont of weightlessness.

I focus. The world slowly rises around . In other words, I am falling.

Everything is in slow motion, including . Like a fra-by-fra 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 sa ti, I bent halfway to grab another piece of steel to steady my montum. …But it’s sad no one can listen to explain all this. Simply put, I climbed onto sothing mid-fall.

It was a bother to have to climb all this tal in order to reach the rooftop. But if I put a ladder here or sothing, the rooftop will beco 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 cos very often.

Co 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 soone 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 co to a certain height, I jump over to a nearby window. There was never any glass inside to begin with. It fascinates because it shows just how derelict this building is.

Alone again, I rembered 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 .

I’m scared that the recoil from all the ti 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 ss.

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 ?

I sound like a bored elentary schooler wondering what life is all about, but this is a question I inevitably have to answer. A human being falls into decline the mont 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… sowhere out there must be a cause that will free from these chains—this island—and let return to my original world.

But I can look for that cause so other ti.

I simply do what I have to do.

For myself.

For the I believe in.

Why am I moving, when it might not benefit 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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