Shuya managed to raise his upper body with his right elbow and looked up at the window above his head. The window was sealed with wooden planks and light leaked in through the gaps. This was done to keep intruders out—but right now it also served as an ideal place to lock him up.
The fingers of his near paralyzed left arm reflexively formed guitar chords under the blanket. The chords from that hit tune sung by the rock star the middle-aged man, the one who gave him his guitar, worshipped, “Jailhouse Rock.”
Shuya took a deep breath and lay down on his bed. The slight movement was enough to send sharp pain through the wound in his side.
60
The Okishima Island lighthouse was old but durable. It faced north with a tower seventeen meters high, and the living quarters, a single-story brick building, had been built as an annex to the tower on its south side. The dining-kitchen-living room was immediately south of the tower, and further south was the storage room and bathroom. Further down were two bedrooms, one large, the other small, along with another storage room right near the front entrance. The hall running on the west side of the building connected these rooms. (Shuya was resting in the small bedroom by the entrance.)
In the corner of the kitchen-living room, which was at least as large as a classroom, was a small table that looked out of place. Yuko Sakaki (Female Student No. 9) was sitting on one of the stools around the table, slumped over the white tabletop as if she were dozing off. Unlike the other five girls, she had wandered around the island for hours on end, so a single night here had hardly alleviated her fatigue. No wonder. She had a reason for not sleeping at all last night.
Yukie Utsumi’s team used this room as their living quarters and slept here too. Someone had to keep watch at the top of the tower, but otherwise Yukie decided that everyone should stick together.
Right behind Yuko, Haruka Tanizawa (Female Student No. 12) and Chisato Matsui (Female Student No. 19) were busily preparing the preserved food in front of the stove, where solid fuel was lit up in place of the shut-off gas. At 172 centimeters tall, Haruka was an attacker on the volleyball team. She and Yukie, who was a setter, formed a great duo. She had short hair, so next to the long-haired, petit Chisato they almost looked like a couple. The meal was a retort stew mixed with canned vegetables. Above them were planks of wood they found in the storage room and hastily hammered into the frosted glass window, which let in the dull light of the cloudy sky. The planks were there to keep intruders out. As soon as they had arrived Yukie and the girls immediately sealed off every entrance and exit from the inside of the building. (The front entrance was designated as their primary entrance-exit, which was where they took Yuko in, but now it was barricaded with desks and lockers.)
Yuko had a clear view of the other side of the room where there was a writing desk with a fax machine and computer. To the left of it, Satomi Noda (Female Student No. 17) was sitting on a sofa placed against the wall, while the table that had been in front of it was now used to barricade the front entrance. Along with Yukie, Satomi was a model student, and although she always seemed a little frigid, now she looked pretty exhausted as she raised her wire-rimmed glasses and drowsily rubbed her eyes.
To the left of the sofa, the kitchen’s side door connected to the hall that led to the front entrance. On Yuko’s right, the far door on the other side led to the bottom of the tower, and the first several steel stairs leading up to the lantern room were visible. Yuka Nakagawa (Female Student No. 16) was up there, supposedly keeping watch. Yuko hadn’t kept watch yet, but Yukie had told her that since the lighthouse faced the ocean, and since there was only one narrow path from the harbor behind the building, the rest of the area surrounded by mountains, it wasn’t very difficult to keep watch. Yukie was now in the room right by the entrance where they’d kept Shuya Nanahara.
Shuya Nanahara.
Yuko felt the tremor of fear returning. Along with it the image that was burnt into her memory. The cracked head. The bloody axe removed from it. And the boy who held this axe.
It was a chilling memory. And this boy—Shuya Nanahara—was now in the lighthouse, the same building she was in. That was—
No, it’s all right. It’s all right.
Trying to keep herself from trembling, she stared at the white tabletop and reminded herself, he’s dying, he can’t possibly wake up after so many injuries and so much bleeding.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she looked up.
As Haruka Tanizawa sat down next to her, she stared at Yuko and asked, “Did you get any sleep?” She was taking a break from cooking. Chisato Matsui seemed to be checking the cooking instructions, examining the package of preserved food. (Chisato had in fact been quietly weeping this morning. Haruka Tanizawa had whispered to her it was because of the 6 a.m. announcement of Shinji Mimura’s death. Until then Yuko hardly knew Chisato had a crush on Shinji Mimura. Her eyes were still red.)
Yuko forced a smile and answered, “Yeah, a little.” It was all right. As long as she was with these other five friends she was all right. She was safe here. Even if that safety would expire when their time ran out. Still—
Haruka brought up the matter. “What you said about yesterday.”
“Oh,” Yuko smiled. “It’s all right now.”
Yes, it was fine now. She didn’t even want to think about it. Just the memory sent chills down her spine. But in any case, Shuya Nanahara wasn’t going to wake up again. Then it was all right. Just fine.
Haruka smiled ambivalently. “Well then, okay.”
When Shuya Nanahara was discovered unconscious in front of the lighthouse yesterday, Yuko had vehemently opposed taking him in. She had explained (she was shouting rather than explaining) what she’d seen, Tatsumichi Oki’s split-open skull, how Shuya Nanahara had removed the axe, how dangerous he was, and how he would try to kill them if they let him live.
Yuko and Yukie were on the verge of fighting, but then Haruka and the others insisted they couldn’t just let someone die, so they brought Shuya in. Yuko looked on, face ashen, keeping her distance, while the others carried the blood-drenched Shuya. It was as if they were welcoming a strange, scary monster that haunted you in your childhood dreams into your house. No, that’s exactly what it was like.
As time passed, Yuko convinced herself Shuya was dying. After all, he couldn’t possibly survive those wounds. Knowing he would die of course was unappealing, but in any case she managed to hold herself back. The one condition she insisted on, though, was that his room be locked.
Haruka continued. It was the same question they had asked several times yesterday. “You say you saw Shuya kill Tatsumichi, but it might have been in self-defense, right?”
That was true. She’d been hiding in the bushes when she heard the thudding sound. By the time she looked, the only part she really witnessed was Shuya removing the axe from Tatsumichi Oki’s head. Then she immediately ran away.
In other words, as Haruka said (which was based on Yuko’s own description), Yuko had only seen the aftermath. It was possible he had done it in self-defense. However, no matter how many times Haruka and Yukie said this to her, Yuko just couldn’t see it that way. No, she simply rejected the idea.
What do you mean, “possible”? I saw that cracked skull. I saw Shuya Nanahara holding that axe. The bloody axe. The dripping blood.
Her thoughts revolved around this scene now. Yuko couldn’t be rational about Shuya Nanahara anymore. It was like a natural disaster, like a flood or tornado. The moment Yuko began thinking about Shuya, that scene and her fear would just wash it all away. The only thing left was an axiom that was nearly visceraclass="underline" Shuya Nanahara was dangerous.