That 220: A Liar's Child

Aizuki Migan was a liar.

The claim that she came from a high-end residential area in Saitama was a lie.

In truth, she was born in a rundown apartment in downtown Tokyo.

Saying she was a third-year middle school student was a lie.

In reality, she was in fifth grade elementary school.

The story about being nearly raped by her uncle was a lie.

Her uncle had hardly shown any interest in her at all.

The tale that her parents died protecting her was also a lie.

They had abandoned her and fled somewhere long ago.

The desire to help someone else was also a lie.

In the end, she just wanted to be free.

▼

With a soft *pssshhh*, the shelter's entrance opens, revealing a large screen displaying a mysterious animated character dancing.

Now that the monetary economy has collapsed, any form of advertising is meaningless—but the loud song emanating from this screen has the effect of attracting "zombies."

Akihabara was a "city that never sleeps."

Keeping its lights on around the clock had become almost a duty for this district.

The brighter the area glowed, the higher the survival rate of the refugees surrounding it.

"……Alright."

Amane Miyuki cautiously leaned forward into the darkness.

It seemed no one was pursuing her, at least for now.

She was aware that Asada Rika was utterly exhausted. So she surely wouldn't wake up from something minor, at least.

Yesterday, she had stayed up almost all night arranging armored vehicles and the like. Miyan, who was disguised among the supplies, had been closely observing her.

There are broadly two types of entrances connecting to the Akihabara Underground Shelter: one for residents' use, and another tightly controlled for outsiders.

The entrance Meiyan emerged from was the first type.

Even so, the area accessible to residents was further isolated from external contact within Akihabara. It would be difficult to escape directly to the outside world from here.

Miyagi's plan was to slip out of the city by hiding among supply vehicles or something similar.

— It'll be fine. We can do this.

Indeed, the guards' attention was focused entirely on "hostile life forms," making their pursuit of people inside rather lax. Even back at Sakaguchi High, she'd secretly sneaked in with her friends and stolen snacks on multiple occasions.

— Outside. Once we're out there, it's all ours.

She longed to live in the outside world rather than remain safely enclosed. At this age, she preferred facing risks and fears over living a disciplined life within a shared household.

"Goooooooooh, o, o, o……"

Suddenly, she looked up, reacting to a sound like an animal's howl.

The noise came from a narrow alley nearby.

A few men stood guard in front of the alleyway. Beyond them, they had no idea what barbaric acts were taking place, nor did they care.

Still, I thought there must have been some kind of violence involved.

Being in that place, Aizuki Miharu felt deeply at ease.

The world is, after all, just a mess.

There's no need for complicated rules that the people from Sakaoka supposedly trust.

The weak are oppressed by the strong.

Rangetsu Miyoi is still in elementary school, but at this age, she has already become aware of her own abilities.

Her ability is straightforward—natural talent for killing.

She has already mastered the skill of discerning whether an opponent truly possesses talent, or if they're just a fake assassin.

When she hammers the target's forehead, the eyes pop out like a shrimp jumping up.

Those who can laugh at that sight, and those who cannot—this is the difference.

And now, what is needed in this world is the ability to laugh—really laugh.

Migoto cautiously stood up and stepped out into the night street, where the scent of burning gasoline lingered in the air.

She was quickly called out.

"Hey, kid."

It was a man keeping watch in an alleyway.

The man had the round, jolly face of an elderly man gazing at his grandson.

"Hey, got any cigarettes on you?"

"…No."

"Ah, right. Too bad. Still just a kid, huh? Around middle school age?"

I knew this kind of voice—this way adults act when they're about to attack. When you want to crush someone, the best approach isn't to glare and charge. The most effective way is to smile first.

*Click.* I unfastened the throwing knife hidden in the opponent's blind spot.

"Hey, what's your name?"

"...Asada, Rika."

"Hey, Rika-chan. You're cute. If I had a daughter, I'd probably name her something like that. By the way, you drink, right? Let me teach you a thing or two?"

"No, I don't need it."

"Come on, don't be so cold. You're out here at this hour, digging up from underground, looking for something fun, aren't you? I get it. Underground's boring, you know? Can't even smoke a single cigarette—something about precious air and all that."

—This is bad.

Before I even realized it, I was surrounded by adults.

One right in front of me.

Another just behind that one.

Two more behind me.

I have some knowledge about rape. After all, a few of my friends had already gone through it.

Everyone’s reactions were varied and detailed—so many that they could fill an entire book. But it all boils down to one simple sentence:

It hurt.

Aizuki Miyoshi hated pain. She had grown strong to avoid feeling it.

Her hand rested on the hilt of the knife wrapped around her waist.

"You should stop."

"Huh?"

"I'm... a 'Player'."

Of course, it was a bluff. But they surely understood what those words meant.

Yet the men heard it and chuckled, smirking.

"Wow. So that's how it is....Then we'll get along even better. Our leader's like that too."

"……huh?"

"Someone who's having fun in the alley right now. Wanna come take a look?"

The man swayed his hips suggestively. His companions laughed heartily at the sight.

Migon looked away.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Been simmering up north for a while, but recently joined our crew."

"Hmm... interesting..."

I find it amusing.

To be honest, there's been a rumor I've always wanted to test.

I heard from a friend of a friend about two ways ordinary humans can become 'Players.'

One: being chosen by a god.

The other: killing someone who's already become a 'Player.'

It might sound far-fetched.

But... this could be my chance.

The corner of her young mouth twitched upward.

If that so-called 'Player' is truly 'enjoying' themselves right now, they must be utterly vulnerable. A friend once told me that the moment of mating is when creatures are at their weakest. So I bit down hard.

"Then, I'm going to meet your boss now."

"Ooh, cool. So let's get started, then—"

A casual grip on my shoulder. The hand was damp with sweat. From the man came the stale, pungent odor unique to someone who hadn't bathed in a month.

"Then, get out of here."

"——What?"

In an instant.

With practiced ease, he drew a knife and slashed the man's wrist—precisely where the thick vein ran.

"Gyaaah!"

Then, he drove the knife into the man's thigh, making him scream.

Without bothering to pull the blade out, he drew two more from his skirt and hurled one at each of the men behind him.

"Ah! Help! Help!"

Instinctively, the two men behind him sensed they were mere cannon fodder. Probably, scaring them off would be enough.

"Damn you!"

The problem was the man with the pistol, standing slightly farther away.

Migen threw a knife at the man's left shoulder, hitting him precisely.

"Gh… you bastard!"

But that didn't faze him at all.

With his remaining hand, he precisely aimed and squeezed the trigger—just before that, Migen barely managed to hide behind a nearby trash can.

The gunshot... was quieter than expected. Probably equipped with a suppressor. A precaution to avoid gathering unnecessary "zombies."

—Got it. Now the "player" won't notice.

Migoto, exhaling in relief, tossed a nearby trash bag. The bullet struck the bag mid-air, causing it to burst open.

At that moment, Migoto hurled two more knives.

One missed, but the other pierced the man holding the pistol straight in the chest.

"Gh… a…!"

The man cried out in agony, but Migoto closed in at lightning speed.

"Stop… please…!"

She couldn't afford to hear a plea for mercy.

He tried to kill Meien, and if he tried to kill someone, he deserved to die.

The world operates on simple rules.

"Goodbye."

Then Meien drove the knife, wielded with all his strength, straight into his forehead.

What happened next?

Poyon—like a shrimp, his eyeball popped out from his face.

"Hahaha..."

She laughed.