Book 5: Chapter 2 |
Daiya Oomine 09/06 SUN 12:05 PM
“I was really surprised… Yes. Yes. I had heard about the dog-people before, of course. But, well, in my mind, they were just something you saw on TV. I never imagined one would show up among people I knew.”
The LCD TV screen shows a woman with her face blurred out. She’s middle-aged, apparently a housewife, and the note of irritation in her mechanically altered voice isn’t quite concealed.
“Tell us about Mr. —.” The name is bleeped out.
“Hmm… I guess he was normal? Quiet, though. Even when I said hi to him, he would just mumble back. I wasn’t sure if he was replying or not.”
“Did you notice anything different about him?”
“…Recently, or maybe not so recently, his parents disappeared. Ever since then…I guess he became a…a what do you call it, a shut-in? That’s how it seemed to me. A job? …Who knows? I have to wonder what he did for work.”
“And what about his parents? You said they disappeared?”
“Yes… Oh, no, it could be that his parents just moved to a different piece of property. It’s only a rumor that they vanished. I’m not really sure. Anyway, Mr. — didn’t really interact with anyone in the neighborhood, you know.”
The middle-aged woman is obviously having trouble replying. “…Yes. They’re criminals, right? And their crimes were particularly heinous.”
“The criminal record of Mr. — has yet to be revealed, however…”
“All I know is that I saw him start howling and drop onto all fours. I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything—”
The camera cuts to show the host and commentators in the studio; the woman must not have known any other useful information.
Everyone looks so serious, but they also seem unsure what the appropriate reaction even is to this somewhat ridiculous phenomenon. It’s a strange, altogether inexplicable anomaly; their comments are all painfully forced and do nothing to address the real topic at hand.
I sit back down on the bed with a sneer.
As I intended, the talk shows have been discussing the “dog-people” for several days now.
That’s what they’re calling the phenomenon—average folk suddenly lose the ability to speak one day and begin walking on all fours. Of course the talk shows jumped on such a sensational story.
Still, it’s unlikely the cause will ever come to light, no matter how big of a topic it becomes. At present, all sorts of doctors, academics, and other learned minds are investigating the dog-people. No matter what angle they approach it from, though, not one of them is ever going to know that it is the work of a Box.
So, in the end, these figures are just going to disappoint their audience with some sensible, worthless conclusion that it’s “acting” or “a belief that they are a dog” or “a mental illness,” even though those could never be the case. No, the spiritualist quack they brought on the show primarily for laughs had a much more satisfying theory for the audience: “This is a trial brought upon us by the gods! It is a reminder to any humans arrogant enough to believe they are special—that they are just another animal.”
I snigger.
No way in hell.
For starters, if you’re gonna talk about arrogance, it’s way more prideful to think the gods would so conveniently test us. After all, we don’t care about how cheeky a caterpillar gets, right?
That’s why the only one who could come up with something as ridiculous as dog-people is a fellow human.
I look toward the television, and the host is insincerely expressing his “heartfelt wish” for the victim’s full recovery. And with that, today’s feature on the dog-people comes to an end.
You “wish for his recovery,” do you? Well, you won’t for much longer.
The reason being that Katsuya Tamura, or our “Mr. —,” with his squeaky-clean criminal record as of now, is a murderer who killed his parents. It won’t be so easy to say your well-wishing once the truth comes to light.
And this crime known only to Katsuya Tamura and me will become known to the world.
As for why, the public mind can’t ignore the fact that all the dog-people discovered before now have been found to be violent criminals. It follows, then, that the police can’t disregard public opinion, either. They’ll probably come up with some grounds for an investigation, then find the remains of Katsuya Tamura’s parents in the garden of his home.
And so Katsuya Tamura will be thrown into prison, where he should have been to begin with. Well…now that he’s basically a dog, his mental state may make sending him to prison a bit more difficult, but that’s not a problem. Punishing the criminals who have escaped judgment isn’t what I’m after.
If the case of Katsuya Tamura goes as I intend…
I have no more pieces to put in place. The truth is, the ability I received from my Box can make others into dog-people whether they’re guilty of a crime or not, but I have deliberately used my ability to look into those with criminal records and do it to them alone.
My goal is to plant an idea—that the dog-people must be lawbreakers—in the minds of the general public.
Those dumb dogs crawling on all fours are criminals.
If this assumption spreads among the populace, then simply being a dog-person will be enough to link someone to a history of violent crime.
And now the result.
You’d be hard-pressed to find a sight more wretched than these human canines. No capacity for thought, naked and barking and crawling around awkwardly—it’s enough to fill anyone with revulsion. You can’t treat them like people, either, so they’re not going to inspire any natural sympathy. Especially when everyone knows they’re a criminal deserving your hatred.
They’ll all come to fear such a state.
Commit a crime, and you could be next. But what exactly causes the phenomenon will never be fully understood. The only answer for avoiding the humiliation will be a life of integrity, free of misdeeds.
And crime will fall.
The total number of these dog-people is too low, of course. I have to make criminals believe it could happen to them easily, so I’ll create many more. I’ll cause a mass outbreak.
When I do, no one will be able to avert their eyes.
I look back at the TV.
The topic has changed, and another image fills the screen. It looks like a video recorded by some regular person on their mobile phone. The footage is rough and blurry in places, and I can hear the surprised exclamations of whoever filmed it.
Several dozen adults have formed a crowd, bowing their heads to the ground on a main thoroughfare in the Kabukicho neighborhood of Shinjuku.
It’s impossible to tell at first glance what group these people prostrating themselves belong to. Yakuza, drag queens, salarymen, high school girls—there doesn’t seem to be a common element among them.
This motley group is bowing toward a figure at the center. And weeping.
The camera zooms in on the person at the middle of it all.
A young man with silver hair and earrings in both his ears, gazing coldly down at the people kneeling toward him.
I don’t need to say that the young man is me, Daiya Oomine.
“…Hmph.”
All according to plan. Every cell phone comes with a camera these days; I knew if I created a show like that on a major street, someone was bound to record it.
The TV coverage was another factor I had taken into account.
The TV personalities back in the studio are frowning at the video and throwing out totally wrong ideas. “Is this some sort of new religious cult?” they ask.
Naturally, that’s not at all the truth.
The dog-people and the ones bowing to me both came about due to my abilities.
No one in the studio has connected the two as of yet. Of course, someone will eventually try to link such concurrent, unexplained anomalies. People on the Internet are already suggesting the two have something in common—cheap guesses, but not incorrect.
This footage is a bit of foreshadowing.
When the dog-people become even more unavoidable for society, I will make them understand the significance of the person in the center of this video.
And that is when my plans will truly begin.
I exit the business hotel and walk the streets of Shinjuku.
It’s a crowded Sunday afternoon. The sheer number of people is unbearable. It makes me dizzy.
I already know most people are sinful to some degree. More people than I can imagine have corruption hidden inside them like sludge under their skin. I have the power of my Box to thank for that knowledge.
Now that I know, I can’t see this throng as anything more than so many wriggling sacks of slime.
…But, well, I guess I’ve gotten used to that by now.
Though the calendar says it’s already September, the temperature during the day still feels like summer, with practically no signs of dropping. A look down at my watch indicates it’s two o’clock in the afternoon.
The sun has begun to sink, which means my shadow is stretching.
People passing by step on it, one after the other.
And that—is what activates my Box.
Each time a foot lands on my shadow, I see crime after crime after crime.
“……”
In the beginning, it was more than I could bear. I couldn’t even stay upright. You can get used to anything, though. That inability to process the revolting sensation is a thing of the past. I’ve long rid myself of such weakness.
Now, this is just another task.
“Urgh!”
This one is more foul than usual, and I let out a gasp of agony.
What the hell is this? It’s utterly vile, like someone threw up in a blender and added shit, used vegetable oil, and tiny cicadas and poured the results down my throat.
What scum would be carrying such a sin?
Pressing my temples, I turn my eyes toward the one who stepped on my shadow to see just how despicable this person must look.
“……”
Now, this is a surprise.
It’s a girl in middle school with a black bob haircut, the very definition of “plain.” There are no classes today, but she’s wearing her navy-blue sailor uniform all the same. From her appearance, you’d find her so innocent, it would be hard to even imagine her in the chaos of the city streets, much less as an evildoer.
The middle school girl suddenly lets out a whimper and directs a dubious gaze toward me and my scowl. …Ugh. As if you don’t know who’s at fault here.
Our eyes meet, but that’s all, before she tries to continue on her way.
“Don’t try to get revenge. You have my sympathy, but this is your own doing.”
She was starting to leave, but now she stops in her tracks and turns around. The blank look on her face probably isn’t so much due to surprise as it is to incomprehension.
“I’m sure you feel like you’re punishing him, but the guys paying money for your body aren’t the same as the bastard who gave you HIV. They aren’t even in the same category. Their crimes aren’t as grave as the one you’re about to commit, either. Though I doubt you’d accept that.”
Her eyes betray a hint of bewilderment, but her face remains expressionless. She may not be that adept at expressing her feelings.
“What I’m saying is, stop selling yourself to infect others.”
Her face still blank, the girl opens her mouth. “…Please don’t say ridiculous things like that in public.”
She finally speaks. Her voice is thin and so faint that I have to strain to catch what she says. Guess she’s not the lively type.
“Relax. See, no one’s paying any attention to our conversation. If you worry about each and every person passing you by in the city, your nerves will be shot. They don’t care if a wanted person is wandering around.”
Well, they might if you start acting like a dog, though.
“How do you know about me…?”
“I don’t. All I did was catch a whiff of the rotten things you’ve done.”
The face of this somewhat lifeless girl scrunches up. I suppose she’s trying to scowl, but I think she really is just bad at showing her feelings. All she does is narrow her eyes a bit.
She turns her back on me and begins to run. It must’ve finally dawned on her to make a break for it.
“You can’t escape. You’re already mine.”
I shut my eyes.
I close off my vision, and I close off myself.
Now that the girl has stepped on my shadow, I’ve taken in her crimes. I grope around in the depths of my mind, searching for her sins.
—Shnk.
My insides tingle with pain.
I seek out her thoughts, fighting down the discomfort. The vast collection of murky, hateful intent within me is like a mass of filth, down to the way it makes me want to plug my nose even when it has no smell. Think of what you might find in the cauldron of an evil witch in a fairy tale, boiling and bubbling with lizards and poisonous herbs.
The pain in my gut is most likely an illusion, just the scream of my mind. The pain is an expression of its abhorrence at making contact with something so foul. I feel like I’ve been infected with horsehair worms.
As I choke down my disgust, I at last come across this girl’s thoughts among the rest I have taken. They appear similar to shadows.
They are all crimes committed by another.
I reach down into the hideous cauldron within me—and take hold of a shadow.
“Ungh, ah…!”
Almost a hundred meters away, the middle schooler fleeing from me doubles over.
Got her.
I open my eyes.
Pressing hard against my chest to calm the tingling inside me, I slowly approach the girl.
“Ah…aaaaAAAAAh…”
The middle schooler gasps in distress, tears flowing from her eyes.
Unsurprisingly, she is beginning to catch some looks from those around her, yet not one of them offers to lend her a hand. They all either ignore her or give her a wide berth as they watch in confusion.
“What you’re feeling is just the misery of looking directly at your crimes. Do you understand?”
The speechless girl only weeps.
“Don’t worry. I don’t intend to make you into a dog-person. The ones I see as dogs, as no better than animals, are the lowest of the low who’ve shut off their minds, fled from their crimes, and forgotten how to feel guilty. That doesn’t apply to you. Your suffering proves it. You’re just in a desperate, self-destructive spiral, which means you still have room to grow. Still, it seems you need to be watched. So—”
I take the shadow of the girl’s crimes in my hand and pop it into my own mouth.
“—your own crimes shall take charge of you.”
An intense bitterness spreads throughout my mouth.
And control of the girl is mine.
“Crime, Punishment, and the Shadow of Crime” is the name of the Box I’ve obtained.
In simple terms, it’s able to control others by playing upon the feelings of guilt that haunt them.
There are some conditions, though. Conditions I imposed myself. In order to control a person, I must stare at their crimes head-on, essentially viewing the most despicable parts of them. For example, this middle school girl here has launched into a reckless, self-destructive campaign after being infected with HIV while working as a prostitute. Now, she’s sold her body numerous times specifically to infect the men who come to her for these paid liaisons. Even though this is hurting herself more than anyone else, even though her awareness of her misdeeds is crushing her, she cannot bring herself to stop. Her sins have taken on a will of their own and run amok, attacking her and others.
I accept those sins.
I accept the malicious aggression that accompanies them, too.
Her sins will attack me as well, of course.
But this is the only method that lets me control my targets.
A Box can grant any wish.
But no person can make a wish without at least a few wrinkles. A Box takes these distorted wishes and makes them come true, flaws and all.
It’s no different for me. My realistic sensibilities get in the way, and I find that I can’t believe completely in the power of the Boxes. A certain part of me refuses to let go of the idea that it’s impossible to grant any wish.
If you use your Box without being a little clever about it, then your wish will be left twisted and unrealized.
Fortunately for me, I understood this. That’s why I didn’t use my Box immediately after receiving it from O and decided first to learn how I could put a Box to best use.
Before long, opportunity came calling within Koudai Kamiuchi’s “Game of Indolence.” That’s where I was able to find my answers.
The trick is to not use the Box to grant my wish directly. The trick is to ask the Box for the means to make my wish into reality.
Let’s say I wanted to destroy the world. If I made a direct wish to the Box to destroy the world, I wouldn’t be able to manipulate it correctly. The wish is just plain vague, and I would also harbor doubts over whether such a thing was possible. So I create a buffer and ask for a switch that sets off nuclear bombs. That’s more than enough power to destroy the world, not to mention tangible and easy to imagine.
It’s an outrageous wish all on its own, to be sure. You still have to believe that Boxes have the capacity to do such things. But I’ve witnessed the awesome power of Boxes firsthand. It’s already feasible to me that I could receive a weapon found in the world today.
With this technique, even a realist such as myself can use a Box properly.
My true wish is to drive all the fools who lack imagination from the world. I didn’t ask the Box for that directly, but rather, I asked for a weapon that is up to the task.
“Control over others” is the power I chose.
I can probably thank my core personality for the fact that it was granted. Someone else might not be able to believe that taking control of others was possible, so it wouldn’t have come true for them. I, on the other hand, know I can control others to a certain extent with my words and deeds. It’s a bit of an assumption on my part, but, well, an assumption is good enough, as long as I can believe it. That’s how my wish came true without being warped. What’s more, I’ve made my wish even stronger by burdening myself with strict limitations. Going to such lengths was what granted me this power.
Unfortunately, the power itself is a bit lacking when it comes to achieving my ultimate purpose. Such a roundabout approach is limited when it comes to achieving my goal. I’m a little irritated with my own nature as a realist, which is what forced me to choose this method.
But I also think it’s as it should be.
After all, nothing feels strange about this ability.
That must mean it’s a perfect match for me, right?
The girl is still crouching with tears streaming from her eyes.
“Can you stop this senseless revenge?” I ask her.
Though her whimpering ah, aaaah isn’t a proper reply, she manages a nod.
I believe her beyond a shadow of a doubt. This girl is going to give up her stupid vendetta. As it stands, I don’t have any need to maintain total control over her.
Now that my business with the girl is done, I begin to move away, only to find that a pair of men, maybe college students, are blocking my path.
“…Hey, what’d you do to her?”
The man’s tone is calm, but they seem upset. They aren’t going to let me get away with what they saw as injustice. They probably think I was harassing the girl.
“I didn’t do anything. Did I?” I ask, turning to look at her.
The girl hastily scrubs her tears away and stands upright. “No.”
She raises her head.
At that one simple action, the two men flinch.
What’s the matter?
I immediately understand once I see the girl’s face, though.
I’m not surprised they reacted as they did. One look at such an expression would knock me for a loop, too.
The girl’s smile is unnatural, as if the corners of her mouth are being forcefully pulled back with bits of kite string. Her eyes gleam dully.
This again, huh…?
“This person is a god.”
Oh, give me a break.
All I did was stoke this girl’s feelings of guilt. I didn’t take direct control of her body or anything. I just drew out her guilt and forced her to look at it, which I’m guessing allowed her to put her heart in order. You could say she happened to get some counseling that proved immediately effective. For her, this was salvation itself.
I suppose I would seem like a god, getting results instantaneously with my mysterious powers. This does happen sometimes, in rare cases.
This was more than they bargained for, I guess; the two anxious-looking men shift away from us after the girl makes her proclamation.
I look at the girl with equal apprehension. She’s squinting at me and panting heavily, as if she truly is beholding the divine.
What is it with this god stuff? Cut it out. Seriously, just stop. It freaks me out. It feels like fingers pushing into the back of my throat. I’m not a god at all. I don’t want to be anything like one.
But…
“—You’re right. I am.”
…I have to allow her to call me that.
I’m still weak. I haven’t entirely rid myself of the boy I was before I pierced my ears, the boy who believed the world was kind. That’s why shouldering the crimes of others brings me pain.
Is suffering just part of being human?
If so, then I can’t afford to be human. I must forsake my human heart. If even strangling Koudai Kamiuchi to death wasn’t enough to free myself from this frailty, then I need to kill someone else. No matter what it takes, I have to purge the weakest parts of my being.
I will transcend myself.
If I must be a god to achieve my purpose, then a god I shall become.
“……”
I look at the girl worshipping me.
I had thought there was no need to control her completely…but now I see there’s no reason not to control her, either. What sort of god am I if I’m not prepared to rob her of her dignity and utterly humiliate her?
I’ll make a ruin of her life.
It was pretty much over to begin with anyway. And so—
“I want you to offer me everything.”
—I touch her shadow of a crime within my own chest and begin to take control of her.
“…Ah.”
A carnal sigh escapes her, and she pushes herself against me. She gazes up at me with moist eyes, imploring me to take command.
“Be grateful. I’ll find a role even for a depraved girl like you. I’ve got an idea. For starters, you can get down and lick my shoes.”
“Oh, wow, thank you so much! Thank you!!”
Without a shred of resistance, she sticks out her tongue and slides it across the bottom of my boot.
“I’m so happy. I’m truly, truly blessed that you would allow someone like me to touch something you wear, even if just with my tongue!”
As all the bystanders watch with curiosity and contempt, I think:
This is ridiculous. Making her do this brings me no pleasure, only shame. I’m getting nauseated. All the same, I have to make everyone submit to me like this.
I must discard all my emotions, even the most trivial.
“—Urgh.”
But my chest still hurts.
I touch my earrings.
I now have six piercings total. I just had this desire to put holes in my body.
“—”
For some reason, Kokone Kirino’s face appears in my mind.
I must rid myself of my feelings for her, but still, I remember.
The girl in my mind’s eye isn’t the shallow, disingenuous girl who wears contacts, changes her hairstyle frequently, and spends over an hour doing her makeup in the morning.
The Kokone Kirino I remember will forever be the timid girl always following along behind me and worrying about how others felt. The bespectacled girl whose diffident eyes were only for me.
I drive the image of Kiri’s face from my mind.
Yeah, I get it. My attachment to Kiri will prove to be the greatest obstacle in the path to my goal.
I lower my gaze to the girl still licking my boots.
I will change the world.
I will transform it.
“…That’s right.”
In order to make this possible, I will need to do away with Kokone Kirino.
And I will have to defeat my ultimate foe.
“I’m going to meet the zeroth Maria.”
My once foolish and carefree foe found his resolve and changed during the killing game.
He’s a specialist at crushing wishes, so he’s bound to show up. Unlike before, he isn’t going to get caught in this Box. He’ll dive into it headfirst. Then he will destroy my wish.
—Kazuki Hoshino.
Our battle will begin.