Life flows slowly in its usual course — no upheavals, no new discoveries. Calmly walking the streets of the city, I continue searching for new places: secluded spots, hidden corners, abandoned buildings. Alas, there aren't many yet — a couple of derelict construction sites that don't suit me, and things like dark alleys or under bridges are out of the question too. As it turns out, finding a place for a maniac's lair is no easy task.
Over the past six months I've managed to provide myself with some semblance of protection — a gas canister, a stun gun, and a folding knife may not be the full arsenal, but they give a certain confidence. Plus, I follow the basic rules of a good boy: no walking around in the evenings, no entering suspicious places. I only look at them from afar.
Ideally, I'd get a gun, but that can wait — I already have a plan for how to obtain one. Of course, I understand that it won't do anything serious against someone who really wants to grab me — that same priest-maniac from the last war was supposedly shot with a machine gun and didn't even flinch. But a gun will still give me some inner confidence.
To be honest, the idea of a sect hideout appeals to me less and less the more I think about it. Suppose I find a person at night near my hypothetical base — I knock them out with the stun gun, and then what? Sure, I'm strong, but dragging them away without leaving traces is unlikely, and once or twice might work — but then investigations will start, they'll comb through the victims' routes or the presumed murder site, and nothing will stop them from searching the whole area.
I'm not confident I can properly camouflage the place. In the end, they'll find it, along with my traces. And again, the bodies. Where would I put them? All those fancy detective shows depicted dissolving them in acid in the bathtub or burying them in pieces in the forest, but the truth is that's a hell of a lot of hassle. In short, the idea sucks. The only reason to go through all that trouble is the ritual circle I'd prepare in advance.
Hmm, the circle, yeah. Why did I decide it had to be some grand, fundamental thing? Like straight out of the movies? A dark basement, candles, everything drawn on the floor with chalk. What I'm getting at is — what's stopping me from… hmm… drawing it? No, embroidering it… on a carpet? No, a carpet is clearly overkill. But the idea emerged that I could print it on something — I'm not sure what yet. Something like rubber canvas? Roll it up and carry it in a tube? This thought stunned me so much I froze in place.
Seriously, a portable ritual circle! That's genius! Hmm, for example, in the private sector I could just sneak into a house at night, knock out the residents, unroll my canvas with the circle and do everything right on it! Then get the hell out! And no need to dispose of the bodies! Aaaand… hmm. Probably should burn the house down afterward. Of course, the fire department will come and everything, and almost immediately they'll realize it was murder. But the fire will hide my traces. Haha, I'm a criminal genius!
With that thought I turned around and headed home. I had already found the ritual circle at Shirou's place and even sketched it on a sheet of paper. True, I had doubts about whether I'd be able to draw it later at the correct size, but with a portable canvas I wouldn't have to worry about that anymore! Though now the question is what kind of canvas to use — it'll be covered in blood afterward, and I'd preferably be able to wash it before the next use without washing off the circle itself. That made me think hard, yes.
A month later.
Damn, I'm so fed up! Without the internet or at least 2GIS, finding a store that sells thin rubber mats one meter by one meter is almost impossible — why almost? Just impossible! I'm starting to doubt such things even exist! So I had to change the plan, and I turned my gaze elsewhere. Another week of staring at everything gave me the answer — sails!
True, then I slightly changed my mind and shifted the focus to something lighter — a ship's flag! And it really was easier: ordering a plain black flag in the port turned out to be simple! And when asked why — I said for a pirate game, which sounded plausible! They even recommended a special paint to draw my own flag in the style of Jolly Roger.
And now I'm standing in the shed with the flag and paint, opposite the circle, and realizing that yes, I'm an artist, but I won't be able to copy it exactly. And I'm starting to doubt whether it's better to draw an exact copy, just in case. Scratching my head, I had to postpone the process for another couple of days. And go look for Whatman paper and stencil paper at the nearest stationery store.
A week later.
Finally, I did it! Only eight attempts… well, now we apply the resulting stencil and paint it red.
To my joy, it worked the first time, and now the conditional plans for this year are complete!
Six months later.
The school year is over, it's summer, the year is 2002. I'm riding the train in a raincoat with a knife tucked inside. Outside the window it's raining, and on the horizon Okinawa appears. Yes, the time has come — my first murder of a person. And at the same time, I hope to get a gun. I have a plan ready! And it's simple and brilliant, though most likely I'll run into difficulties during execution — when has it ever been otherwise?
In theory, I'm going home for the summer to Akito, but with a transfer in Okinawa. Of course, I could go direct, but I need Okinawa specifically! And the reason is simple: there's a U.S. military base there! And no, I haven't lost my mind planning an attack. It's simpler — soldiers are people too, and they go into town with guns. So I just need to stake out near nightclubs in the shadows for a couple of nights and wait for my target. And yes, an interesting fact — the local police only have batons and stun guns. I did consider the option of just stunning and robbing one, but no luck.
So I'll combine the pleasant with the necessary. And a soldier should be ready to die anyway. I thought about it for a long time and came up with a certain… mm… code of rules for myself? Like, no killing children unless absolutely necessary, no killing women unless simply necessary. But men — sure, go ahead. And I didn't pick the time randomly — I checked the weather forecasts for a week of rain; they're not rare anyway, but still. Because rain will wash away all traces and smells — yes, I'm paranoid. And I'll also need to hide the gun in the city and pick it up only at the end of summer, on the way back to Fukuoka.
Four hours later, alley.
Well, now rain has been added to the list of things I hate. It comes right after stairs. I've already been hanging around near the nightclub for an hour, freezing in the rain. Finally I see a target — some black guy with a beer bottle, arm in arm with a girl. And they go around the corner of the club. Well, everything seems obvious — my client, and no, it's not because he's black! Well, partly… and I'm not racist, almost. It's just that the only black people here are from the U.S. military base, and part of his clothes are in that famous khaki pattern!
Though for some reason I had a flashback from movies I'd seen before. And for some reason, the thought that if I go around the corner after them now, it'll turn out he's a vampire and the girl is his dinner. Or vice versa, he's her dinner. After rolling that thought around for a second, I concluded that yes, it's a cliché — but I'm in an anime. And there are vampires here, apparently.
Okay, enough doubting! I pulled myself together and quickly crossed the street, ducking into the alley. Well, it looks like they're just kissing, not trying to eat each other. Though why did they come out to do it in the rain? Slowly approaching the couple, I realize I don't know how to quickly slit their throats so they don't scream. And yes, I decided to take out the girl too — I don't need witnesses.
Hesitating for a second and discarding the idea of stabbing the heart or slitting the throat — that looks epic in movies, but in practice, with my height… Considering the options, I run up, hug them around the waist with my left arm, and start stabbing them in the side with the knife, one then the other. They start thrashing, but I hold them tight, moans are heard, and after a minute of stabbing they go limp and collapse to the ground.
Hah… hah. I killed a person. Really killed one. Until now it was all more theoretical, and I was brave, but now. Just like that. My hands are shaking, blood is pounding in my head, and I'm gripped by slight panic and the desire to run. No, stop, no one saw you. I look around the alley — empty. No one will come here. Come on, come on, search them — you didn't put on gloves for nothing. I need a gun and money.
I drop to my knees and frantically run my hands over them, not finding what I'm looking for. I set the knife aside and search more thoroughly. But all I manage to find is a wallet and some documents! Does he not have a gun on him?!
This thought is so absurd to me and my worldview that I even freeze. But… how?! I shift my gaze to the girl — some dress, no pockets, no purse either. I look at her and try to figure out where her things are. Maybe she left them in the club? Maybe he left a bag with a gun in the club too?
But their stuff could get stolen while they're out… another ten seconds I stare blankly at the two dead bodies, blood already starting to flow out from under them, mixing with the puddle. Soon the blood mixed with rain might start flowing out of the alley — this thought snaps me out of it, I need to get out of here!
I stand up and start leaving. Stop, the knife, damn, almost forgot the knife! I go back and find the knife in the half-darkness. And also force myself to think of some motive for what happened — let it be robbery! I take all the money from the black guy's wallet and throw it along with the documents right there next to the body. Yes, that'll look less suspicious.