Episode 14: The Executioner

I've heard it said that, fundamentally, humans are creatures incapable of killing other humans.

During World War II, the rate of firing was below 15%. Even lower was the number of soldiers who could actually aim and shoot at the enemy.

The fact that most people lack tolerance for violence is evident in the fact that, despite the large number of people taking refuge at this school, no one has managed to eliminate a single "zombie."

"Zombies" are not human.

"Zombies" are the dead, and the personalities they had when they were alive have already vanished to some distant place.

They are "enemies of humanity," akin to pests.

There is only one solution: to deal with it properly.

...

I must be a pretty rare type of person to be able to think so clearly and decisively.

"Senpai... I heard it."

Rikachan looks at me with a worried expression.

Next to him stood Kōsuke-kun as well.

"Uh, I dunno... I kinda feel weird about this. Making senpai do all the killing like this... doesn't that seem off?"

He tilted his head and replied.

"Well, maybe it wouldn't have turned out this way if I'd realized sooner. But I was planning to take responsibility from the start."

"Th-That's not true... Senior isn't at fault at all! If anything, we didn't notice either!"

Kousuke fumed. He had a point, but my pocket held that cursed "dokukeshi" all along.

If I had just been more careful, no one would have died.

I don't know how it happened, but I somehow possessed a strange power.

I am aware that this power can save not only myself but also those around me.

I misused this power.

Even that alone is enough to bear full responsibility.

Well, I chose not to mention it to the two of them, as it would only complicate things.

▼

The sound of knocking on the door—equivalent to two zombies.

The old man and the man he bit must have turned into zombies.

Sawada Kozo and Professor Sasaki had taken positions in front of the door, waiting for the right moment.

All the remaining survivors—almost everyone—were watching us.

To be honest, I'm not used to being the center of attention, so this kind of thing makes my hands shake a bit.

But everyone strongly wished for us to witness what was about to happen. I couldn't bring myself to deny such a heartfelt request.

"Namandabu Namandabu... Namandabu Namandabu..."

With the elderly woman's voice chanting in the background, I draw my sword bare.

You okay? If you want, I can take over instead.

And then, Professor Asakura interjects.

Isn't something grotesque, well, not allowed?

Besides, handing off the baton right here feels a bit off in terms of timing and planning.

I'm going to... open the lock.

First, Mr. Sasaki removed the lock.

"Are you ready...?"

Mr. Asada asked me.

"Whenever you are."

At the same time, the sliding door swung open with a clatter.

And, tumbling out through the doorway like a zombie, was one such creature.

"Yikes...!"

Mr. Sasaki cried out, despite knowing it was coming.

The first to emerge was the familiar elderly "zombie."

His name, he said, was Ichiro Mizutani.

He swiftly plunged the blade into the back of Ichiro's head, sprawled face-down.

Ichiro, who had been flailing wildly with arms and legs, went completely still.

First one.

Without a pause, a middle-aged "zombie" lunged at me, his abdomen hanging open with a dangling red mass.

Let me introduce him. This is Yukinori Mizutani.

The woman with tuna-like eyes, moments away from being dispatched right there—she is Tadako Mizutani, the wife of Ichirō and the father of the girl, Rui Mizutani, huddled with her knees drawn up in a distant classroom.

After a brief moment to steady my breath, I swiftly pulled the blade from Ichirō’s back of the head and, with every ounce of strength in my body, severed the head of Yukinori.

Under the eyes of the crowd, Yukinori’s head soared through the air.

It rolled with a thud down the hallway.

Silence.

"Namandabu Namandabu...! Namandabu Namandabu...!"

The old woman's chant grew louder.

A few ladies fainted.

"Uaa... uuaaahhh...!"

Mr. Sasaki screamed in agony.

Everyone's gaze was fixed on the severed head I had cut off.

Drawn in by the scene, I looked at the head too.

Click, click, click.

The upper half of Kohinosuke’s head was moving up and down, opening and closing its mouth like a carp searching for food.

It seems the body continues moving indefinitely unless the brain is completely destroyed.

"Forgive me."

After muttering an apology, I gently drove my blade into Kohinosuke’s head, now pitiful in its state.

Good night, Kohinosuke.

May your soul find peace.