kscans

Chapter 233 - Epilogue-7: Please Chant My Name Along with Me

Dazzling sunlight piercing through closed eyelids pulled my consciousness back to reality.
I am, I am, I am, I am—who exactly am I? Where is this? My body sways, and in a field of vision where the left half is invisible, the bright sunlight stabs at my eyes.
I intended to look away from the sun in a hurry, but even just turning my head was a sluggish movement like a turtle's crawl. And seeing the window reflected at the edge of my vision, I realized I seemed to be inside a room somewhere.
Turning my eyes away from the sunlight through the window, a white ceiling entered my view. There were fluorescent lights, but the power was not on. The light shining through the window was the only light source.
I was being laid on a bed, and seeing the empty beds lined up on both sides, I realized this seemed to be a hospital room. Opposite the bed I was lying on, there was a door left open, which likely led to a hallway, but no one was in sight.
I was intensely thirsty. I opened my mouth to call someone, but what came out instead of a voice was only a groan.
When I tried to raise my upper body, I felt a sensation of my arms being pulled by something. I thought to throw off the blanket covering my body, but my arms wouldn't lift. Feeling something hard rubbing against my wrists, I deduced that both hands were likely restrained to the bed by handcuffs or something similar. My legs were also similarly restrained; they would only lift a tiny bit.
Why am I being restrained? Not knowing the reason, I simply swung my limbs around, trying to remove the shackles. The noisy metallic sound of the handcuffs hitting the bed frame echoed, and immediately, I heard multiple footsteps approaching from the open door in front.
"It seems he's awake...!"
I heard a woman's voice. Turning my gaze to the front, multiple silhouettes entered the hospital room from the entrance.
The first two to enter were a white man and a black man wearing blue camouflage. Both held guns in their hands, and the muzzles were pointed this way. Following them were two people of Asian descent, a man and a woman wearing white coats; from the fact they were speaking Japanese, they seemed to be Japanese.
"Calm down, please don't struggle. Do you understand what we're saying?"
The man in the white coat, likely a doctor, said with his hands spread as if to soothe me. Beside him, the white man in camouflage spoke to the doctor with a vehemence that suggested he might fire his gun at any moment.
"Doc, no way in hell this thing’s human. Let’s shoot it already."
"Listen, I need to check if he’s still conscious. Until I do, please don’t shoot him."
It seemed the soldier wanted to kill me, but the doctor was holding them back. At the same time, I realized I understood the English conversation.
"Ah—do you understand Japanese? Please, stop struggling."
At this rate, I'd likely be shot by the soldier. Understanding that, I stopped swinging my limbs. Seeing that, I saw both the doctor and the soldier widen their eyes.
I tried to make a sound, but my throat was still raspy, and not even a proper word would come out. But after several deep breaths, I finally succeeded in squeezing out words.
"...Give me... water..."
That voice was a hoarse voice, like an old man's. Everyone in the room widened their already round eyes even further and looked at each other as if they couldn't believe it.
"Jesus Christ..."
The other soldier muttered. The doctor hurriedly instructed the woman who seemed to be a nurse to hand over water, and the nurse picked up a pitcher that had been placed on the room's desk and held it out.
I desperately poured water into my mouth from the spout, and my raspy, parched throat began to regain its moisture. In no time, the pitcher was empty, but when I said, "One more cup..." the nurse hurriedly went to fetch more water.
Once I finished drinking until I was satisfied, the doctor suddenly approached his face with a look of trepidation. In his eyes, colors of fear and confusion flickered.
"Do you understand the words I am saying?"
"Yeah..."
"I see, that's good. First, I'd like you to tell me your name. Who are you?"
"I am..."
There, I suddenly realized.
"Who... am I...?"
"...Even so, he's a creepy guy, isn't he?"
I heard one of the adults surrounding the bonfire mutter. Akira reflexively asked back, "Creepy?" and Tanaka, holding a hunting rifle, looked at his face and continued.
"I think he's a suspicious guy. In this day and age, there's no way someone would just wander in and help without asking for anything in return."
"But we were saved by that person..."
"Maybe he's planning to make us feel safe like that, then attack us once we let our guard down. We have the numbers, but don't relax."
Tanaka, the leader of Akira's group, said that and placed his hand on the hunting rifle resting on his lap. Seeing that, Akira looked back toward the small bonfire burning alone several dozen meters away from them. In front of that bonfire, a single man sat with his back turned to Akira and the others. The man who had suddenly appeared before the group of boys traveling north and saved them from a predicament seemed to be staring only at the bonfire without even looking back.
Nearly a year had passed since the sudden radio broadcast by the government began. While that broadcast, saying there was a safe place in Hokkaido, gave hope to survivors who had been living with bated breath to hide from the infected, the content stating there were no plans to conduct any rescue operations in Honshu was also enough to drive survivors to despair.
Even if it's impossible now, someday a rescue will come. For the survivors who had been hoping for that somewhere in their hearts, that broadcast was a cruel one. That said, they couldn't keep hiding somewhere forever. The vast amount of supplies left in the towns would eventually run out since people were gone, and there was no guarantee that where they were now would remain safe forever.
Above all, the maximum problem was the progressing degradation of various fuels. Gasoline is highly volatile, and as time passes, its degradation progresses further and further. There were plenty of cars left in the towns and gasoline left in them, but whether the engine would start without problem was a different story.
If it were diesel, the progress of degradation would be slow, but even so, the day would eventually come when cars could no longer be moved. When that happened, it would be almost impossible to aim for Hokkaido on foot, so if they were to move, they had to do it while cars were still usable.
The group Akira was moving with was also originally a gathering of people who lived in the Chubu region. For over a year since they began living with bated breath to hide from the infected, many comrades had been killed by the infected during that time, and many had also died from illness or injury.
Since the government broadcasts began, the adults had been preoccupied with the debate over whether to go to Hokkaido or continue hiding like this, and opinions were split to the point of shouting matches and physical altercations, but to Akira, who was a middle schooler, it didn't particularly matter.
In the end, the survivor group Akira belonged to split into two. One group would stay in place until supplies ran out, hiding and living in the hope that the government would someday dispatch a rescue team. The other group would head north while cars could still be moved, aiming for Hokkaido on their own.
Akira decided to follow the group aiming for the north. His parents and friends were already dead, and there was no meaning in staying in his hometown. Above all, even if he stayed there, there was no sign of anything improving. Since the government broadcast had repeatedly said rescue wouldn't come, there was no point in hoping for it. In the current situation where time had passed since production and fuel degradation was progressing, it was expected that they would eventually become completely unable to move.
The group, which had about 30 people when they left their hometown, had decreased to a little over 20 by the time they reached the Tohoku region. It wasn't that they had plenty of food or fuel; the cause was the need to stop at some town along the way to resupply.
Akira's group suffered attacks from the infected along the way, or comrades lost their lives one after another on the journey due to being caught in traps that other survivors seemed to have set and sustaining heavy injuries. There was a doctor, but he was originally a veterinarian, and since they didn't have plenty of medical supplies, even a small injury could lead to death.
And today, while gathering supplies in a town they stopped at, Akira and the others were attacked by a swarm of the infected. Although they were armed with hunting rifles, crossbows, and handguns obtained from the bodies of police officers, the number of infected was overwhelming. Naturally, they chose to flee, but it was just as they were bracing for death as the infected gradually drew closer. That was when that man appeared.
The man, wearing a black coat and a balaclava that a robber or terrorist might wear, skillfully used a machete taken from under his coat, a double-barreled shotgun with the barrel cut down to the limit for better handling, and a rifle he carried on his back to wipe out the infected closing in on Akira and the others. And after escorting them to the vehicle convoy, he even guided the survivors to this suburban campsite, saying there was a "safe place."
Even Akira, who was not a combat specialist, could tell that the man was used to fighting. This campsite seemed to have been long since people stopped entering; grass was overgrown and there were places where soil had collapsed here and there. However, since it was away from the urban areas, there was little fear of being attacked by the infected.
After the man in the balaclava said it was better not to move tonight, he distanced himself from the group of survivors, including Akira, who were rejoicing at having survived for the time being, and was facing a small bonfire alone. Akira and the others had felt grateful for being saved at first, but as time passed and they regained their composure, someone had started the conversation of "What exactly is that man?"
"For starters, don't you think it's strange that he was in a place like that alone? Besides, what does he gain by helping us?"
The one who raised that doubt was Tanaka. He was one of those saved by the man, but suspicion seemed to be stronger now. That said, what he was saying had a point, and many members agreed with him.
Akira and the others didn't know, but apparently, there were many infected in that town. Was he saying he was in such a dangerous place alone? Even if food, water, and medical supplies could be obtained, it would be meaningless if he were killed by the infected. Or was he saying he had been going around defeating all of them?
Besides, there would be no merit for him in saving them. If he had been hiding and living in the town, it should have been more profitable for Akira and the others to be killed by the infected. If he held his breath, the infected would go to attack Akira and the others, and if he collected their belongings after they died, he could make them his own. Since there was only danger and no merit in going to help, it was natural that they couldn't understand why that man in the coat tried to help them.
Furthermore, knowing that this campsite was safe was also a factor deepening their suspicion. When guiding the convoy along the way, the man spoke as if it wasn't his first time coming here, so he must have brought survivors here before. If so, what happened to them?
"Maybe he's planning to make us think he saved us, then lead his comrades here once we've let our guard down..."
"It's better not to neglect guarding the perimeter. Don't take your eyes off him either."
As if completely unaware of the adults whispering words to each other, the man in the coat was still turning his back this way. That back remained motionless while staring at the bonfire. What on earth is he thinking? Akira was a little curious.
"Hey Akira, take this to that person."
Suddenly called, he returned his gaze to the front to find a steaming cup noodle container before him. The one holding it out was a man about a decade older than Akira named Onodera.
Onodera, who used to work for a prop-making company, was the next youngest after Akira in the survivor group aiming for the north. Perhaps because of that, the two of them often acted together, and today it was Onodera who had acted as Akira's partner for the supply search in the town.
"Is it okay? Giving a precious item like cup noodles to a total stranger."
"It's cheap as a reward for saving our lives. Besides, this is the portion we found today; one shouldn't matter."
"That might be true, but... why me?"
"Things like this are less likely to be met with caution if a kid takes them. Come on, please."
If he put it that way, it couldn't be helped. Akira decided to take the cup noodles, which had hot water poured in and the lid closed, to the man sitting a short distance away. Preserved foods like cup noodles were also becoming precious items lately. The expiration dates had long since passed, and even if they could be eaten, they didn't have the same deliciousness as before. Still, since it was one of the few warm meals, it could be said to be in the luxurious category for a survivor's meal menu.
"Um, excuse me."
When Akira called out from behind like that, the man turned around and his face, covered by the balaclava, pointed this way. That there seemed to be no light in his left eye was not just because of the darkness of the night. There was no pupil in his left eye.
"Ah... you... is something the matter?"
He had heard the man's voice when they were saved in the town, but it was a raspy voice like an old man's. Partly because his features were unknown due to the balaclava, Akira even thought for a moment that this man might actually be an old man.
"Um, please have this. It's a thank you for saving us today."
"What, you didn't have to worry about that... but I was hungry too, so I'll gratefully accept."
Saying that, the man received the cup noodles from Akira. Although more than three minutes had already passed since the hot water was poured, there was no sign of the man starting the noodles. Since he had been handed disposable chopsticks as well, he should have been able to eat immediately.
"...Aren't you going to eat? There's no poison or anything in it."
"Ah... no, it's not that I'm doubting that..."
The right eye, which held light, turned toward Akira. If he weren't wearing a balaclava, his tone suggested his face underneath would surely be a troubled one.
"Sorry, but could you go over there for a while?"
"Eh? Did I do something to bother you?"
"It's not that... I'm shy, you see. It's embarrassing to have people watch me eat."
A man who could defeat several infected in an instant shouldn't be shy or anything. He thought to say that, but stopped. He closed his mouth because he thought it would be rude to force the man who saved them to do something he disliked, and more than that, because he noticed through the hole in the balaclava that the man's eyelid, which could be seen slightly, was severely inflamed.
"...Then, I'll be going."
"Yeah, thanks."
Akira turned his back to the man and started walking toward his comrades. But, as expected, he just couldn't help but be curious and looked back, seeing the man rolling up the mouth area of the balaclava and eating the noodles.
His bare skin, reflected in the light of the bonfire, looked hideous after all.
Early the next morning, Akira's convoy departed the abandoned campsite. The man in the coat had said it was better not to move for a while, but the leader, Tanaka, had forced the departure. In addition to the feeling of wanting to aim for the north as quickly as possible, the feeling of not being able to trust this man was also a factor among the survivors.
The man had been trying to hold Akira and the others back somehow, but when he learned their will to depart was firm, he pressed them to at least tell him which way they would go. The leaders grew increasingly suspicious of the man's offer that they should avoid certain places because he knew they were dangerous, and they departed the convoy with a momentum that almost shook him off. Suspecting that he might tell the route to comrades lurking somewhere to set an ambush, they had paid almost no heed to what the man said.
Watching the man silently seeing off the convoy at the campsite, Tanaka and the others were laughing, saying he should be grateful they didn't kill him. Even though he saved us... Akira thought, but he also couldn't discard the feeling of suspecting the man just like Tanaka and the others.
It's foolish to help people in this day and age. Even if you're kind to someone, there's no reward, and rather, there's no meaning in an act that only exposes yourself to further danger. Akira thought so. That's why he could only think that someone trying to help someone else was either thinking of something bad behind the scenes or was going to demand an outrageous reward.
Even though his life had been saved by the man, he still couldn't trust him, as he wandered alone in a dangerous town and tried to help others without seeking any reward. That's why Akira also felt somewhat relieved when Tanaka decided to leave the man behind at the campsite.
However, several dozen minutes later, Akira would come to regret not listening to what the man said.
The survivors, including Akira, who were split into several passenger cars, were avoiding narrow mountain paths and driving along the former national highway, aiming for the north. They knew that most of the wide roads were unusable due to accidents or police blockades during the early chaos of the pandemic, but it wasn't that all roads had become impassable. However, narrow mountain paths in remote places could be impassable due to rockfalls or shoulder collapses, and because they were so narrow they couldn't even turn around, if they entered such a place, they would have no choice but to back out for a long distance or abandon the cars.
Thinking so, Tanaka and the others had found a place that wasn't blocked and were driving the cars on a wide road, but that was a mistake. Akira and the others were naturally guarding the outside from within the cars in preparation for the infected, but the lead car blew a tire with a burst sound like a gunshot and, while scattering sparks, lost control and crashed into the guardrail at the side of the road. Immediately after the following vehicles stepped on the emergency brakes upon witnessing that, multiple silhouettes rose from the bushes around the road, and a shout of "Don't move!" was heard.
The ones who showed themselves from the bushes were about ten men. In terms of numbers, this side was superior, but more than half were armed with guns. One of them held an automatic rifle that seemed to be from the JSDF.
"This is bad..."
Tanaka was in the car that had just crashed into the guardrail, and there was no sign of him coming out. Even if the remaining members were to fight, the number of guns on this side was smaller. Besides, the opponent even had an automatic rifle, while the weapons here were only hunting rifles with specifications in accordance with the Swords and Firearms Control Law, police handguns, and several crossbows.
In this situation where they were already surrounded, the moment they tried to take out a gun, they would likely be shot. There seemed to be nails or caltrops or something placed on the road, so they couldn't force their way through like this. That said, if they put it in reverse and tried to pull back the way they came, bullets would likely fly the moment they did.
"Throw away your weapons, put your hands up, and get out!"
The other members inside the cars were looking at each other, wondering what to do. Should they follow instructions, get out and fight, or run away? However, no matter which they chose, it was dangerous all the same. Moreover, while they were doing so, men with weapons were also moving around to the rear of the convoy.
After hesitating, the first one to say, "...For now, let's do as we're told," was Onodera.
Placing down anything that could be a weapon, they opened the doors with resolve. And then, with their hands up, Akira and the others got out of the cars.
The ones pointing guns at them were men who appeared to be in their 20s to 30s. The one with the automatic rifle seemed to be the leader, and the other members were also armed with hunting rifles and crossbows. Following Onodera and Akira, survivors got out of the other cars with their hands up as well.
"Sorry, but this road is closed. If you want to pass, we'll have you hand over what you've got."
"Hand over... what..."
"All your belongings. Cars, fuel, food, weapons, medicine, and the women..."
The rioters pointing guns at Akira and the others wore vulgar smiles at the last words. He had heard rumors that there were people doing whatever they wanted by taking advantage of the fact that the police weren't functioning, but this was the first time he had actually encountered them. He had been braced for the possibility of running into such people someday, but if possible, he hadn't wanted to meet them in his entire life.
"Th-that's... if you take even our cars, how are we supposed to..."
One of the rioters suddenly struck the survivor who raised a voice of protest. Seeing that, everyone else fell silent, and only the groans of the man who was struck could be heard.
"Who said you could talk?"
"We could kill all of you, you know? We're being kind by not doing that."
Watching the laughter rise among the rioters, Akira felt sick to his stomach from the bottom of his heart. Which would be better, these guys or the infected? The infected don't try to torment their opponent excessively and just try to eat them, so they might be better than humans.
"Oi, everyone line up there with your hands up! Do you want to die!"
A rioter thrust a gun at Akira and the others along with a verbal abuse. They were serious. Akira realized that these were the kind of people who would easily kill someone if they felt even slightly displeased. Perhaps they had survived precisely because they were such people, and they likely had no hesitation in threatening others and stealing things like this.
After lining Akira and the others up on the road, the rioters immediately began rummaging through the cars. They devoured the food they found on the spot and stuffed the spoils into their pockets by the handful.
In the lead car that had crashed into the guardrail, Tanaka was groaning. Apparently, he had barely survived. It seemed the others riding with him had also escaped with their lives, but the rioters didn't even spare a glance at the heavily injured Tanaka and the others.
"Um..."
The moment Akira raised his voice, the man with the automatic rifle glared at him fiercely.
"Hey."
And pointing the muzzle at Akira, he continued irritably.
"I told you to shut up, didn't I?"
"But, Tanaka-san and the others are still alive..."
"Who cares, idiot."
In an instant, the rioter's fist slammed into Akira's stomach. Seeing Akira crouch down from an impact and pain that made him think his stomach might burst, the other rioters raised vulgar laughter. To laugh at seeing someone being struck—these guys really aren't sane. While groaning and clutching his stomach, Akira thought so.
"This is getting annoying, should we just kill everyone?"
The leader of the rioters, holding the automatic rifle, said with a click of his tongue. His index finger was on the trigger, and it was clearly not a threat.
The other rioters also pointed their guns at Akira and the others with faces like children who had grown bored of a toy. While screams and pleas for life rose from his comrades, Akira suddenly noticed that he could hear a sound from far away.
Apparently, it was an engine sound. It seemed the comrades who were about to be killed and the rioters who were preoccupied with tormenting them hadn't noticed, but that engine sound was gradually drawing closer.
And from the shadow of an abandoned car left at the side of the road, a single motorcycle appeared. The one driving was the man clad in a black coat with his face hidden by a balaclava—the man Akira and the others had left behind at the campsite.
"What's with that guy!?"
The rioters also seemed to have noticed the man approaching on the motorcycle. For a moment, they looked at each other, but the leader of the rioters shouted, "Kill him!" and they hurriedly readjusted their guns.
The rioters' guns spat fire all at once. But the man skillfully maneuvered the motorcycle and, while hiding his body in the shadow of the vehicle's frame, pressed toward them. On the other hand, the rioters didn't seem used to handling guns, as they could be seen missing their aim or taking time to reload. The leader of the rioters also pulled the trigger of the automatic rifle he held and fired in bursts, but the muzzle was pointing significantly upward due to the recoil.
The man in the coat could be seen taking something out from his breast while approaching on the motorcycle. A voice from the man, loud enough not to be drowned out by the engine sound, echoed, "Get down!" and Akira instinctively crouched on the spot along with Onodera and the others.
To the rioter who had exhausted his double-barreled shotgun and was hurriedly trying to reload, the man in the coat charged straight ahead while opening the throttle fully. The rioter, seeing the motorcycle heading toward him, threw away his gun and tried to flee to the side, but the man in the coat was swinging something he held.
What the man in the coat held was a telescopic baton. To the rioter who had moved away from the approaching motorcycle at the last second, the man in the coat swung the baton down with all his might. The blow from the baton, which also carried the speed of the motorcycle, seemed quite heavy, as the rioter who took a direct hit to the shoulder was rolling on the ground with a scream.
"Kill him!"
The leader of the rioters shouted that and tried to fire the automatic rifle, but the man in the coat had gotten off the motorcycle before anyone knew it. And he rushed toward one of the rioters reloading a hunting rifle, striking the right hand holding the gun with the baton.
"Ugh!?"
The rioter whose back of the hand was struck by the baton dropped the hunting rifle, but the man in the coat didn't even look at the gun that fell to the ground. Swiveling around to the rear of the rioter whose face was distorted in agony as he held his right hand, he thrust a knife against his neck before anyone knew he had taken it out.
In the split second the rioters hesitated to fire because their comrade was being used as a shield, the man in the coat pushed the back of the one he used as a shield and rushed toward the other rioters. "Help me!" the man who was used as a shield with a blade thrust against his neck was screaming.
And as he approached the other rioters, he shoved the one he had been using as a shield, and one of them was pinned underneath. While the two were down on the ground, he approached another of the rioters and flicked the muzzle of a bolt-action rifle upward from below with the baton. The rifle bullet, fired as the trigger was pulled by the recoil, shattered a grimy streetlight, and glass fragments rained down from overhead.
"Does that guy not value his own life...?"
The one who muttered that was Onodera, who was crouching on the ground next to Akira. Despite there being nearly ten enemies, and more than half of them armed with guns, the man in the coat was rushing in without hesitation and unfolding a battle on equal terms.
No, it was more than equal. The man in the coat carried a rifle on his back, but there was no sign of him using it; he was fighting the rioters with only the baton as his weapon. The rioters weren't used to shooting to begin with, and because the man in the coat had brought it into close combat and created a situation where they would hit their comrades if they shot poorly, they were unable to utilize their numerical advantage and the strength of guns as weapons.
"Dieeeee!!"
Because he had knocked down the enemy within reach, one of the rioters aimed a reloaded over-under shotgun, taking advantage of the split second the man in the coat had no one he could use as a shield. But before that, the man in the coat had drawn something from his waist.
It was a handgun. But even when its trigger was pulled, no gunshot thundered; instead, a faint sound of air leaking, like when opening a cola can after shaking it hard, was heard with a pash.
"It hurts!!"
The rioter who was just about to shoot the man in the coat dropped his gun and rolled around on the ground, covering his face with both hands. From the gaps between the fingers of both hands covering his face, blood could be seen streaming down.
Apparently, what the man in the coat fired was not a real gun, but something like an airsoft gun that had been illegally modified to increase its power. Despite being shot from a distance of over ten meters, the fact that a grown man was bleeding and rolling around in pain meant that it had been modified to a considerably increased power.
"Uwaaaaaa!!"
Raising a shout that was neither a scream nor a roar, one of the rioters attacked the man in the coat with a machete in hand. But the man showed no sign of panic and caught the swung-down machete with his left arm.
The blade of the machete did not slice through the man's skin, shatter his bone, and sink deep into his left arm—instead, along with a dull sound of metal clashing, the blade of the machete the rioter swung down was deflected in an unexpected direction. Apparently, the man was wearing a protector or something under his coat. "Eh, no way, why..." the man slammed a fist into the face of the rioter who was looking alternately at the man and the machete in his hand, and then faced the leader who was left at the end.
"Damn it, what are you!!"
Apparently, he had fired in bursts in his panic and exhausted the bullets in an instant; the leader of the rioters was hurriedly trying to change the magazine of the automatic rifle. But perhaps because of the impatience and fear, the magazine wouldn't fit well, and in the meantime, the man in the coat picked up a stone about the size of a fist from his feet and threw it with all his might.
The thrown stone struck the temple of the rioter leader directly, and the leader, who was trying to aim the automatic rifle he had finally finished reloading, fell over on the spot with blood flowing from his forehead. In front of the leader who was reaching for the dropped automatic rifle while crawling on the ground, the man in the coat, who had approached before anyone knew it, picked it up with a flick.
"Don't move, put your hands up."
It was a raspy voice like a grandfather's, yet it was a voice so chilling it was terrifying.
The leader of the rioters, who was now on the side of having the muzzle of the automatic rifle he had held pointed at him, reluctantly raised both hands while glaring at the man in the coat.
"You guys don't move either! And you all, pick up their weapons and watch them."
The "you all" seemed to refer to Akira, Onodera, and the others. Looking around, the nearly ten rioters who had been thrusting weapons at Akira and the others and toying with their lives until just a moment ago were now groaning and rolling on the ground at the hands of the man in the coat alone.
It was a reversal of the situation. Akira and the others hurriedly stood up and picked up the guns and weapons the rioters had dropped. Into the hands of Akira, who hadn't been allowed to hold a gun until now because he was still a child, an over-under shotgun taken from a rioter was also pressed.
"This bastard, I'll kill him!"
Perhaps the resentment of being tormented by the rioters and exposed to the fear of death had exploded; one of the survivors thrust a picked-up hunting rifle at a rioter fallen on the ground. He had almost been killed, and Akira thought no one would complain even if he pulled the trigger as he was. It's better to kill these guys here. That was the thought of the survivors, including Akira, but there was one person in this place who had a different opinion.
"Hey, stop it."
The one who said that and grabbed the muzzle of the shotgun pointed at the rioter, turning it upward, was the man in the coat who should have been the one to knock those rioters down. His sharp eyes peering from under the balaclava shot through the survivors, and the one who was about to shoot the rioter instinctively recoiled.
"What! Why are you stopping me! Whose side are you on!?"
"I intend to be on your side. But if you're going to try to kill these guys, that's a different story."
"What are you talking about, these guys tried to kill us! We have to kill people like this here! These guys are scum, they have no value in living!"
Voices of agreement rose from the other survivors as well, saying "That's right, that's right," but the man in the coat didn't move an inch. Despite knocking the rioters down to help Akira and the others, he was now trying to protect the lives of those rioters. Akira also didn't understand what the man in the coat was thinking.
"I certainly think these guys are scum too. Considering what they did to you, it can't be helped even if they're killed, and it might indeed be better to kill them here."
"Then don't stop me!"
"But, don't you think there's a possibility that any human can start over? A second chance should be given to anyone. Even these guys might reflect after having a painful experience here and live a decent life from now on."
"What if that doesn't happen? If because you let these guys go, they do the same thing again and cause someone to die, can you take responsibility!"
Akira thought that was exactly right. He didn't know if the man in the coat was a philanthropist or a humanitarian, but if he let the rioters go here, there was no guarantee they wouldn't do the same thing again. Even if their weapons were taken and they were released, it was easy to imagine that they might find other weak people like themselves and repeat the cycle of threatening them, using violence, and taking their lives. He didn't think taking a person's life was a good thing, but even as a child, Akira thought that there were such things as necessary killings in this world.
The man in the coat didn't answer that question and thrust the automatic rifle at the groaning rioters, waving the muzzle as if to tell them to go over there. The rioters, whose weapons had been taken and who were injured in various places, stood up unsteadily and gathered around their leader, who was glaring bitterly at the man in the coat.
The man in the coat pointed the muzzle at the rioters who had gathered in one place. For a moment, Akira thought he might be planning to shoot the rioters where they had gathered. But instead of pulling the trigger, the man questioned them.
"The reason I didn't kill you was because I wanted to see if you had the will to sincerely reflect and start over. If you swear never to attack or hurt anyone again, I'll release you just like this. Though I'll be confiscating all your weapons as a nuisance fee."
"...And if I say I don't want to?"
The leader of the rioters, whose face was dyed bright red with blood flowing from his forehead, said with a faint smile. In response to that question, the man readjusted the automatic rifle he held.
"Because I can't overlook innocent people being hurt by letting you run wild, I'll kill you here."
"I get it. I get it, I've reflected. We were wrong. We won't do it again. ...Is this enough?"
"What are you doing, shoot them," the survivors' voices rose. It didn't seem at all like the rioters were stating words of reflection from the bottom of their hearts. They were only thinking of getting through this situation with a superficial apology, and it was entirely possible they would repeat the same thing once they left this place.
The rioters each spoke words of reflection and apology, and after hearing them through, the man in the coat lowered the muzzle.
Or so it seemed, but he aimed the gun again. Akira expected for a moment that he would shoot after all, but instead of a gunshot, what was heard was the man in the coat's playful voice saying, "Bang."
While everyone was taken aback, the man in the coat finally lowered the gun for real. And approaching the rioters, he said.
"Fine, I'll believe you. You died once here; from now on, live seriously as if it's your second life. However..."
Saying that, the man in the coat placed a hand on the balaclava he was wearing and pulled it off in one go. Seeing the man's face under the balaclava, the survivors gasped in fear.
The face of the man in the coat was a terrible sight. Perhaps he had sustained a major burn; his face was greatly burned and inflamed, and he had a face like a skull, as if flesh had been haphazardly and thinly added to a skull with clay.
He had the minimum facial parts like a nose, lips, and cheeks, but his original face and appearance before the burn were completely unimaginable; it was a terrifying face that didn't seem to belong to this world at all. And in his left eye, there was no eyelid, and a pure white eyeball without a pupil was staring out ghoulishly.
A skeleton corpse resurrected from hell is speaking. Akira thought so.
At that incredibly eerie bare face, pathetic screams also rose from the rioters. Their somewhat mocking attitude from just a moment ago had vanished, and their faces were distorted with fear.
When the man in the coat with the skull-like face took a step forward, the rioters recoiled all at once. Akira felt the same way. He had thought he was wearing a balaclava to hide a burn or something, but he hadn't expected him to have such a terrifying appearance.
"Remember this face well. If your words were a lie and you continue to do the same thing in the future, I will find every single one of you and kill you."
The single pupil deep within the burned eyelids glared firmly at the rioters. Combined with his raspy voice, it was as if a dead person were speaking.
At that incredibly terrifying appearance, the rioters' heads bobbed up and down shakily. There was a pressure in that face that allowed them to say nothing but "yes" or "I understand."
"You... what on earth are you..."
"Just an emissary from hell who punishes people like you who do bad things, in the name of the moon."
At that moment, the roars of the infected echoed throughout the surrounding area. Since the rioters had been firing guns that much, it wouldn't be strange for the infected to have noticed. "This is bad, they found us!" someone shouted.
"They're here..."
The man in the coat put the balaclava back on to hide that skull-like face, pressed the automatic rifle he had taken from the rioter into the hands of Onodera, who was nearby, and took the bolt-action rifle he had been carrying on his back until then. Noticing something as he looked around, he aimed the rifle and peered through the mounted scope.
When Akira followed the tip of that muzzle with his gaze, he saw several infected running toward them. A gunshot thundered, and one of the infected fell on the spot with the upper half of its head blown away.
"You all, hurry up and pull your comrades out of that crashed car and pull back the way you came!"
Pulling the bolt handle to eject the empty shell and loading the next round, the man in the coat shouted. Another gunshot thundered, and another of the infected fell.
Akira and the others had no time to think and simply started moving, somehow getting Tanaka and the others out of the lead vehicle that had crashed into the guardrail.
"And you guys! If you don't want to die, hurry up and run away from here. Don't waste the life you just picked up."
Those words seemed to be directed at the rioters who were standing there wondering what to do. The rioters, who seemed to have been unable to gauge the man in the coat's true intentions, looked at each other, but seeing the man firing at the infected again, they apparently judged there was no margin to think. The man in the coat spared a glance at the rioters who started running headlong toward the mountains, and then lowered the rifle and carried it on his back again.
"I'll buy time, so you all return to that campsite. This road is closed ahead anyway."
Saying that, the man took out the side-by-side shotgun with the stock and barrel shortened to the limit from under his coat and rushed toward the infected closing in on the convoy stopped on the road. Why he was risking danger to help them, whom he had only met yesterday, he didn't know. But for now, it was better to follow what that man said. Akira and the others understood that somehow.
Somehow getting Tanaka and the others, who seemed to have sustained fractures from the impact of hitting the guardrail, into the following vehicles, they drove in reverse until they reached a place wide enough to turn around. In front, the man in the coat was standing alone against the infected who were closing in.
He aimed the double-barreled shotgun with one hand as if it were a handgun and fired at two infected a short distance away. Without reloading, he drew a machete from under his coat and slashed at the neck of an infected right in front of him. He kicked away the infected whose movement had slowed for an instant after its artery and trachea were severed, and then thrust the blade into the face of another infected that reached out. The tip of the machete's blade pierced the infected's eye socket and reached the brain, and the infected, killed instantly, collapsed on the spot.
Finally reaching a place where they could turn around, the convoy Akira and the others were in made a 180-degree turn and began to return the way they came. Since they didn't know where was safe, they had no choice but to return to that campsite.
Glancing back, the man in the coat was still fighting the infected. Several infected corpses were rolling on the ground, but several more could be seen heading toward the man. He was the one who said he would buy time, but was it really okay to leave him behind alone? Akira thought so, but everyone else accompanying him seemed to be thinking only of leaving this place as quickly as possible. Revving the engines, the convoy started running at full speed toward the campsite.
Whether against humans or the infected, the man in the coat seemed used to fighting anyway. Akira could only pray for the man's safety.
Within less than 30 minutes after the convoy shook off the infected and returned to the campsite, the man in the coat arrived later, with the engine sound of the motorcycle echoing. Perhaps he was covered in blood spray; the moment he got off the motorcycle, red liquid dripped onto the ground from the black coat he was wearing.
"That's why I told you it's better not to move yet."
The first thing the man said upon returning was what he had warned them of in the morning. If they had listened even a little to the man's story, Akira and the others might not have been ambushed and attacked by the rioters.
"The numbers are... it seems everyone is alive. I'm glad you're safe."
"What on earth are you. Why are you doing something like this that doesn't gain you anything? What do you gain by helping us? We left while laughing at you as a fool, so why did you go out of your way to come help us?"
At the words Onodera spoke as if he couldn't understand, the man scratched his head as if troubled.
"Even if you ask why... I can only say I'm doing it because I want to."
"Because you want to—and you don't care if you face a situation where you might die?"
"If we talk about that, it'll be a bit long... for now, why don't we have lunch? You've had a scary experience, you must be hungry."
The food they had loaded in the convoy had been recovered from the rioters along with the weapons. Beside everyone who had fallen silent after their first experience of almost being killed by other humans, the man silently maintained the motorcycle he had ridden in on.
"Where was there still usable gasoline left? The gasoline at the gas stations in our town or in the cars that were left behind had turned into a thick, bright yellow sludge, and car engines wouldn't start..."
"There's such a thing as canned gasoline for emergencies; because it's sealed, it can be used for three years from production. Since it's for emergencies, the cans are only about 1-liter size, so you can't be extravagant even if you find them... Also, even with degraded gasoline, you can sometimes manage if you mix in additives. Even that isn't a trick you can use much, so in the end, gasoline will eventually become unusable."
After Akira and the others left the campsite, the man had apparently hurriedly prepared the motorcycle and gasoline and chased after the convoy. Apparently, this campsite was a place the man used as a base; inside the management building, there were plastic jerry cans covered with plastic sheets, several motorcycles and spare tires, and cars were placed in the parking lot.
"...You saved us twice, thank you. And I'm sorry for not listening to your warning."
The one who spoke was Tanaka, who served as the leader of Akira's survivor group. Tanaka, who had crashed into the guardrail along with the car when they were ambushed by the rioters, seemed to have broken his leg, but his life was not in danger.
"No, I understand how you feel. Anyway, you want to go to Hokkaido quickly."
"Aren't you going to Hokkaido? In Hokkaido, there are safe places and few infected. You don't have to worry about food; that's what the government is broadcasting on the radio."
"I know. But I'm not going to Hokkaido. I have things to do here."
Things to do? Tanaka muttered back like an echo. The man, who had finished maintaining the motorcycle, put away his tools and, while disassembling the automatic rifle he had taken from the rioter leader this time, spared a glance at Akira and the others.
"You all asked me what I was earlier, didn't you. Actually, I don't know what I am either."
"Are you kidding—"
"I don't remember anything. Not my name, my face, my age, or my address; I don't know anything."
The man's memory didn't exist at all from a little over a year ago. When he woke up, he was in a hospital bed with his limbs restrained and guns pointed at him.
"Apparently, I was picked up when I was washed ashore on a beach. Due to massive bleeding and severe burns, I was apparently in a state like a corpse that was breathing."
The ones who picked up the man were US Navy sailors. While the number of infected was exploding in America, the US military deployed overseas was all called back to the mainland for the sake of maintaining public order. The USFJ was no exception, and the fleet that had Japan as its home port also set sail with the sailors' families on board, but the infected had boarded some of those ships.
The narrow interiors of the ships were quickly filled with the infected, and the few sailors who managed to survive abandoned the ships, boarded lifeboats, and washed ashore on the coast of Japan. The sailors had been living in hiding while cooperating with local residents to protect themselves from the infected and rioters, but one day, they said they found the man washed ashore on the beach.
"At first, they thought I was a corpse. Because I moved there, they thought I was an infected and tried to kill me, but because I was muttering something, they thought I might be human and brought me back."
"Thinking you were an infected? No, certainly if you had sustained such a major injury that you had a face like that, you might not be thought of as human..."
As if to say it wasn't that, the man laughed softly. And removing the glove on his left hand, Akira noticed there that the tips of the man's pinky and ring finger on his left hand were missing.
The man silently rolled up the left hem of his coat. There were burn scars here and there on his arm as well, and—.
"Apparently, I have a constitution different from other people."
There was a scar like a human bite mark at his wrist. The moment they saw that, everyone around the man recoiled all at once.
If you're bitten by an infected, you become an infected too. Akira knew that well.
But the man, seeing Akira and the others' reaction, was laughing as if it were nothing.
"Don't be so scared; if I were going to become an infected, I would have joined them long ago. After all, I was apparently done in over a year ago."
"Over a year...?"
Looking closely, the bite mark scars weren't just on his wrist. They were also on his upper arm, and there were places where flesh was greatly gouged out, as if it had been bitten off. Unless he had been done in by a cannibalistic deviant, it was a fact that the man had been on the verge of being eaten by the infected.
However, Akira hadn't thought that there were really humans who didn't get infected even if bitten. Back when the internet was still usable, rumors had circulated that there were humans who had immunity to the virus and didn't become infected even if bitten. There were also stories that scientists were desperately searching for humans with such immunity to produce vaccines and anti-viral drugs, but in the end, it was certain that the current state of affairs resulted because no one was found.
If the virus enters the body through a bite from an infected and reaches the brain, that human loses both intellect and reason, and turns into an infected that attacks others, driven only by appetite and murderous impulse. It doesn't matter if the opponent is family or a lover. They turn into a beast in human form that thinks of nothing but eating and killing the person in front of them, but the man in front of him seemed to have both reason and intellect no matter how he looked at him. Far from attacking humans, he was even protecting humans from the infected.
Seeing the man's words and the scars on his arm, Akira understood. The reason the man took on the role of the rear guard to let Akira and the others escape was likely because he knew he wouldn't get infected even if bitten.
"Among the people who picked me up, there was luckily a doctor too. Apparently, there was an opinion that I should be killed while in a coma because it would be dangerous if I woke up and started attacking other people, but that person protected me as a precious sample."
And the man finally regained consciousness a month after washing ashore. But when the doctor questioned him about who he was, the man realized then that he didn't remember anything.
"I can speak Japanese. I could understand the English the sailors were speaking. I knew how to handle weapons and how to fight. But I didn't remember anything about myself. Not my name, my age, my family, where I lived, or what I was doing. ...And, my original face."
"...Memory loss, is it?"
"Apparently. According to the doctor who saved me, it seems I was caught in an explosion or something at close range. It might be because of the shock at that time or because I was deprived of oxygen while drifting at sea, or maybe because fragments are stuck here too, and they might be doing something bad."
Saying so, the man tapped his own head. As a result of consuming precious electricity to take X-rays, it was found that countless fragments were stuck inside the man's body, perhaps from being caught in an explosion. Some of them seemed to have penetrated the skull and reached the brain.
Since there was neither a neurosurgeon nor tools, it was an environment where brain surgery was absolutely impossible, and he received rehabilitation to regain his memory, but in the end, he remained unable to remember anything. He also hadn't been carrying anything that could identify an individual when he washed ashore, and the man didn't know who he was.
If the man had a criminal record or dental records, it might be possible to identify the individual from fingerprints or treatment marks. However, if there were no records of that physical information, identifying the individual would be difficult, and even if there were records, there was a possibility they had been lost in fires or the like under these circumstances. Even if he had taken a face photo for a driver's license or student ID, how much of his original features would be recognizable from a face that had sustained major burns?
The man had also injured his throat, and he said his raspy voice was because his vocal cords were damaged. In other words, the method to identify the man as an individual was in a situation where it was almost impossible unless his own memory returned.
There were also methods like searching for family and doing DNA testing, or searching for friends and acquaintances, but in the current situation where everyone had lost close people, there was no guarantee anywhere that someone who knew the man was alive.
"I have nothing. Not a name, a past, or even a face... I don't have a single thing that tells me who I am. But, I realized there is one thing left."
"Something left?"
"The future. If I don't have a past to look back on, I have no choice but to look forward and move on. ...Though I only have one eye to look forward with."
The man laughed as he said that, but Akira couldn't laugh at all. Despite not knowing who he was, having lost his past, and having lost even his face, which was his greatest physical characteristic to remind him of his past, why was this man so positive?
"I am a nobody, and I have nothing. And I thought. About what I should do. And while I was thinking about what I should do, it suddenly came to me. Help as many people as possible; that's what you should do."
Whether that was a strong will that someone who used to be the man had continued to hold, or whether it was a command issued by a brain that had gone strange from the fragments stuck in his head, he didn't know. But someone inside the man seemed to be shouting that.
The man with no name, past, or even a face decided to follow that inner voice. Now that he had lost everything, there was nothing else he should do or follow.
And the man began to train his body and learn how to fight from the soldiers. Curiously, the man's body seemed to know how to fight, and he improved rapidly in both gun operation and martial arts after being taught just once.
"It was a help that there was a cook among the sailors who washed ashore who said he was former special forces. I had combat training thoroughly drummed into me by that person."
And two months after awakening, the man departed aiming for the north. There was no one to accompany him, including the sailors. In the village where the man had washed ashore, many people were living in hiding, and people were needed to protect them. Besides, he couldn't involve others in a dangerous act that the man had decided he wanted to do on his own.
"It was over half a year ago that I came to this area. It's a reasonably sized city, but supplies are still left. People aiming for the north often come for supply searches. But the city is crawling with the infected..."
"You mean they get attacked like us."
"I intended to have written warning texts in various places in the city saying it's dangerous ahead; did you miss them?"
If so, it was also understandable why the man was in the city yesterday and immediately appeared to help Akira and the others. He must have seen people who entered the city to gather supplies and were attacked by the infected many times before.
"You all are aiming for the north, aren't you? Three times so far, I've escorted groups saying they're going to Hokkaido as far as Aomori. I'll accompany you."
"...I don't understand. What do you gain by doing such a thing? To risk your life for a total stranger... I know I shouldn't say this as someone who was saved, but are you a fool?"
Tanaka said as if truly perplexed. Akira and the others had also lived by helping each other when they were in their original town, and they were helping each other on the journey aiming for the north, but that was strictly limited to within their comrades. Even if a total stranger was being attacked by the infected, they had normally done things like leave them to their fate as long as no harm came to themselves.
Besides, helping each other within comrades wasn't out of friendship or humanity, but because if they didn't do so, they couldn't unite as a group due to mutual distrust of "What if that guy abandons me in an emergency?" They were only doing so because they couldn't reach Hokkaido unless they helped each other, and if they found out the other person was incompetent, selfish, or a nuisance who dragged them down, they would be kicked out of the group.
If you try to help someone, your own life is also exposed to danger, and you might consume precious supplies like bullets and fuel. It would be the worst if the person you helped at such a cost turned out to be useless. That's why they only helped someone when they thought it would lead to their own profit. Akira thought that was the common sense of people living in today's world, not just themselves.
But the man in front of him seemed different. Without any calculation of profit or loss, he was acting only to help someone in front of him.
"I have nothing. That's why I want the people living now—the people who have what I lost—to live. If someone is seeking help, I'll go to help. I'll fight in place of people who can't fight, and help as many people as possible. I can do that because I don't get infected even if bitten. So I think that's my role now."
"...Even if the opponent is a bad person, you'll help?"
The man didn't kill the rioters who attacked Akira and the others, and even went so far as to let them escape from the infected. Did he not think that because he let them escape, someone else might suffer the same experience?
"I believe a second chance should be given to all humans. Because I beat the hell out of those guys today, they might reflect and think they should stop attacking people, and live properly from now on."
"Isn't it more likely that won't happen? Rather, they might think of doing it better next time and do the same thing. Even so, you'll give a chance even to bad people?"
"Yeah."
The man stated that without any hesitation. In his right eye peering from the balaclava, there wasn't a single speck of cloudiness.
"Actually, I should have died without ever waking up... but I'm living like this now. Thanks to that, I was able to help you all."
Saying that, the man looked at the tips of the fingers on his missing left hand. Akira thought that the man, who had been bitten here and there by the infected, sustained major burns, and had countless fragments stuck in his body, must have surely continued to fight until just before he lost his memory.
"I don't know if the me before my memory was blown away was a good person or a bad person. But as long as I'm living, I'm sure something good will happen. I think so. That's why I want to give a second chance no matter who the opponent is. But if the opponent is going to waste that opportunity, that's a different story; I'll take responsibility and kill them so they don't cause trouble for anyone else."
Though humans don't change that easily. To the man who muttered that, Akira understood that the man had been putting his previous words into practice. When he gave a chance to the rioters, it didn't seem at all like he was saying it as a joke, and above all, he even thought this man would really do so.
"The guys who attacked you today were just amateurs who had grown bold after finding guns and couldn't even maintain guns properly. People like that won't do the same thing so easily once they've had a painful experience. But there are also guys whose purpose itself is to kill. People like that are beyond help. It's a good day if they even listen to persuasion."
The man wiped the dirt off the parts of the automatic rifle he had disassembled and began to reassemble it again. Despite there being parts with complex shapes, the gun was reassembled in an instant with smooth hand movements.
"Unfortunately, it seems there are not just the infected but also such dangerous people in Japan now. The guys we ran into today were just the beginning; there are even more dangerous people. Even if you're going to Aomori from here, I know the places where such people are. So you'd better take me along too."
Saying that, the man lightly tapped the reassembled automatic rifle.
Akira and the others felt keenly that they had just happened to come this far by luck. There was no guarantee that humans other than themselves were decent, even if they had only encountered the infected on the journey so far.
Tanaka and the other adults looked at each other and said, "...Let us think about it for a bit," and turned their backs to start some kind of discussion. Akira, the child, was not invited, and having time on his hands, Akira spoke to the man.
"...Um, isn't it scary not knowing who you are?"
Losing his memory, losing his face, and having not a single family member, friend, or comrade who knows him. The man is truly a "[Mr. (Mister)] [Nobody (Nobody)]". If he fell into such a situation, would he be able to maintain his sanity?
But the man laughed as if to say, "Is that all?"
"It was scary at first. Because I have nothing; I'm a hollow, blank human. I tried to remember who I was somehow, and I almost went crazy with the fear of not knowing who I was. But..."
The man looked up at the void.
"I thought about it the other way. That I don't have to remember what kind of guy the previous me was. That I'll do what I want to do now. Since I don't even know if I have family or friends anyway, then there's nothing to bind me. I can do anything."
"And what you thought you wanted to do was helping people, is that it?"
The discussion there ended, and Tanaka and the others returned. And Tanaka, while looking at the man's face, held out his right hand.
"From here to Aomori, I think it'll be a short time, but I look forward to working with you."
He could tell the man laughed under the balaclava. The man shook hands with Tanaka with his right hand, which had all five fingers.
The words that he had escorted survivors to Aomori three times seemed to be true; the man knew the passable roads along the way, the towns that were dangerous because of the infected, and the cities where supplies remained. Because they had been moving while searching for passable roads while being cautious until now, the progress pace of Akira's convoy had been sluggish, but after the man joined as a guide, they were able to move forward as if it were a lie.
"Come to think of it, what should we call you?"
In the car one day when they were a few days away from entering Aomori, Akira asked the man. The motorcycle the man had ridden in on was loaded into the cargo van to save fuel, and except when going out on reconnaissance, the man was riding in that van with Akira and the others.
"Call me whatever you want. Whether it's Nanashi no Gonbei or John Doe. Either way, I don't know my real name either."
Because he had no name, the man was only called by pronouns like "you" or "hey" by everyone. But as expected, isn't it inconvenient to not have a name forever? Akira, who thought so, thought for a bit and spoke the name he came up with after seeing the man's bare face.
"Isn't something like Skull Man cool?"
"It's one thing to be called that by others, but it's honestly cringey to call myself that. Are you in eighth grade?"
"I'm in middle school, but..."
From the rear, he heard the sound of someone rummaging through and turning something over, so he looked back to find Onodera fishing through the contents of a box containing materials in the cargo area. Although they called it materials, it was just a collective name for usable things they found in the city; what was in the box were armor and protectors collected as countermeasures for bite wounds from the infected.
"Are you looking for something?"
"I'm sure there was a decent-looking face guard around here..."
Onodera continued while fishing through the contents of the box.
"You're hiding your face with a balaclava, but to someone who doesn't know the circumstances, you look like nothing but a suspicious guy. They can only think you're a robber or a terrorist."
"Well, I think so myself... but if I stay with this face, people get scared instead. I've had times where people wouldn't listen to me and ran away."
That's true, Akira thought. Although the right eyelid, cheek, lips, nose, and ear—the minimum parts—remained, the man's face had sustained such major burns that his original features were unrecognizable. Just as Akira and the others had been, and the rioters as well, those who saw that face would only have the impression that it was terrifying.
If one suddenly ran into a person with such a face in the city, they would look like nothing but a monster, and it wouldn't be strange if they raised a scream and ran away. If one ran into him at night, they might faint from fear.
"That's why I'll make a mask with a slightly cooler appearance for you. One like a hero that people who see you won't be scared and run away from, but rather think you're reliable."
Onodera, who used to work for a prop-making company, said he had experience working on everything from small props for dramas and movies to costumes for heroes in children's programs. Utilizing that experience, Onodera's main role was to self-make armor from materials found in the city or hand-make equipment that was lacking.
"A mask?"
"That's right. They say appearance is 90% of a person, right? No matter how much you say you're a good person, that outfit isn't persuasive. I also think what you're doing is a good thing, but for that, you have to have an appearance that puts people at ease first, or no one will listen to you."
Akira also thought what Onodera said was right. He thought the man's idea of trying to save others without seeking any reward and without regard for his own danger was noble. However, even if the man said he wanted to help someone, it would mean nothing if he was suspected or feared from the point of his appearance. It could even be thought that the opponent might run away or, at worst, attack him before they were done in.
To prevent that, it's important to have an appearance that makes the opponent likely to listen. Exposing his bare face, which had become like a monster's, was out of the question as it would intimidate the opponent from the first move, and a balaclava like he had now also couldn't shake off the feeling of being a suspicious person.
"Well, leave it to me. I've made cosplayers' costumes many times. I'll show you I can make a mask that's cool and easy to use."
Saying that, Onodera began to develop a design on a sketchbook while combining face guards and goggles taken from the box. Akira and the man were looking at him with slightly exasperated eyes.
A few days later, Akira's convoy had reached the Shimokita Peninsula in Aomori Prefecture. From here to Cape Oma, which served as the gateway to Hokkaido, they could reach it in less than half a day by car in normal times. However, since there were roads occupied by the infected or blockaded, the prospect was that it would take more than double the time if they tried to move by car through passable places.
Despite nearly a year having passed since the government broadcast about accepting refugees to Hokkaido began, the human base on the Honshu side still remained at Cape Oma and its surroundings. The maximum factors were said to be that fuel and ammunition were not plentiful, and above all, the number of combatants was insufficient.
Unlike the man, ordinary humans turn into infected if bitten. If the infected are in a wide, empty plain, they can just be shot or bombed unilaterally from afar, but it doesn't go that way in urban areas. In urban warfare where they check and sweep buildings one by one, close combat with the infected inevitably occurs. If that happens, no matter how much they've hardened themselves with protectors and the like, those will be forcibly torn off and they'll be bitten and it'll be over.
For that reason, the sweeping of the infected in Honshu had not progressed at all.
"Well, I'm done here."
At the timing the convoy stopped for a short break in a small farming village, the man said that and got out of the van.
"Are you really planning to go back?"
The man had said he had escorted survivors to Aomori three times so far. He could have crossed over to Hokkaido just like that if he wanted to, but he hadn't, and although he had told Akira and the others he would only accompany them as far as Aomori, no one truly believed in their hearts that he intended to pull back to the south. Despite being able to go to a safe place in another day or so, Akira and the others couldn't understand his feeling of going back to a dangerous place on purpose.
"Yeah. There are likely still many people troubled, seeking help. I can't go to a safe place alone while abandoning such people."
There, the man seemed to have noticed something and added.
"I don't want you to misunderstand; I'm not saying you all who are aiming for the north are heartless people who don't think anything of others. It's natural to want to go to a safe place after having scary experiences until now. Besides, to reconstruct Japan, the labor of even one more person will be necessary. You all are the people needed to create the future ahead. So have pride in your choice and go to Hokkaido without hesitation."
Akira and the others couldn't make the choice to stay here and continue fighting like the man. Rather, they were full of the feeling of wanting to go to a safe place as quickly as possible. After having experiences of almost being killed by the infected many times, losing comrades, and even being attacked by rioters, it was natural to think they never wanted to have the same experience again. Even if other people were living with bated breath in fear at this very moment and were about to be killed right now, if they were strangers whose names and faces they didn't know, honestly it didn't matter, and they had no margin to spare a thought for such people.
However, the man didn't criticize Akira and the others at all, and rather even affirmed it as a choice necessary for the future.
"You're a bottomless softie... don't you think about the possibility of being betrayed or deceived by someone and facing a terrible experience yourself? In this day and age, I think there are normally people everywhere thinking of such things. What will you do if, in the future, the people you tried to help trap you or betray you?"
When Tanaka said that as if exasperated, he could tell the man laughed under the balaclava.
"Well, there will likely be people thinking of such bad things. But rather than doubting everything, designating everyone besides yourself as an enemy, and living while being jumpy, isn't it more fun to live by trying to believe in the person in front of you first? If I'm deceived, then... I'll just pay them back later. I know myself that this way of thinking is easygoing, but I want to try believing in humans."
The man who said so had no cloudiness in his right eye, and he was conveying to Akira and the others that he was saying that from his true heart. This goodness of the man who tried to believe in people no matter what—was it something he had possessed since before he lost his memory? Or did it sprout because he forgot everything and became a blank human?
But, in any case, Akira and the others couldn't do the same as the man. Akira and the others would cross to Hokkaido, and the man would remain in Honshu. They would just do what they could there.
"You're going to keep working hard for someone's sake; here's a present for you."
Saying that, what Onodera took out was the mask he had been making for the man for the past few days, even sparing time for sleep.
The mask Onodera had built, based on a combination of a sports face guard for the upper half and a wire mesh face guard for airsoft for the mouth area, was well-made even though it was a rush job from the materials on hand. While considering not to affect the field of vision and not to hinder breathing or hearing, he had given it a certain strength. It also had enough strength that even if bitten by an infected, it wouldn't be crushed or the teeth wouldn't penetrate.
"The eye parts have lenses removed from sunglasses that are said to be bulletproof. They're the kind that are okay even if shot with a shotgun from 10 meters away."
"No, I'm grateful for that, but this design is..."
Although it was a base of inconspicuous colors like black and gray in consideration of low visibility, the mask Onodera made had an appearance like something a hero in a children's special effects program would wear. The eye parts were made large, and decorations like fangs were applied around the mouth. It was a design that could be believed if someone said it was a handmade mask of a local hero from some municipality with no budget.
"I actually wanted to add horns too."
Onodera grumbled so, but it would be putting the cart before the horse if it got caught on something or hindered movement. The man was checking the strength by tapping the mask he received from Onodera or checking the degree of bending to see if it fitted his face, but he seemed to have judged there was no problem. He took off the balaclava, and his skull-like face was exposed.
The man's left eye had almost no eyelid, and a white eye without a pupil was ghoulishly bared. He heard that the left eye had been crushed when he washed ashore, so it was removed and he was wearing a prosthetic eye made with a 3D printer.
They had been acting together for many days, but Akira and the others were still instinctively looking away when they saw the man's terrifying face. If someone with this face said, "If you do something bad next time, I'll kill you," they would certainly think they wouldn't do anything bad anymore. The man's face was that ominous.
The man donned the mask over that bare face and put a knit cap on his head. He was checking if there was any hindrance when turning his neck or moving his body, and checking the field of vision, but there seemed to be no particular problem.
"Heh, it's well-made."
"Right? I'll make an even cooler one next time we meet."
To Onodera who continued, "Don't die until then," the man answered, "I don't intend to die."
In reality, the possibility of them being able to reunite with the man in the future was not very high. They would cross to Hokkaido, and the man would remain in Honshu. Unlike in the old days when they could come and go easily, now the only means to cross the strait was the ship the government was putting out about once a month. Furthermore, since they heard they would be moved to isolation zones in various places once they crossed to Hokkaido, they might as well think there would be no opportunity to meet the man directly.
"Then, finally, I'm counting on you."
Saying that, the man rolled up the sleeve of his coat, and his arm, full of burns and scars, was exposed. A person with experience as a veterinarian among Akira's group tied up the man's upper arm with a belt and thrust a syringe into the bulging vein.
Bright red blood began to accumulate in the syringe, and just as it was almost full, the belt tying the arm was removed and the needle was pulled out. The blood accumulated in the syringe was transferred to a blood collection tube, and three collection tubes filled with the man's blood were tucked into a portable refrigerator loaded in the car.
"Make sure you hand it over."
To the man who said that, Tanaka nodded back firmly.
The one who suggested that Akira and the others, who were heading to Cape Oma to cross to Hokkaido, should take his blood was the man. He heard that he always did so whenever he escorted survivors to Aomori.
"For some reason, I remain fine even if bitten by the infected. Whether it's immunity or constitution... by studying my blood, maybe a countermeasure against the virus can be found."
Currently, it was clear that no vaccine or the like had been developed. When the communication networks were still alive, he had heard on the news that virus research and vaccine development were progressing in various countries, but all of them apparently ended in failure. He heard that before the government evacuated to Hokkaido, they had even mobilized JSDF special forces to desperately search for those with immunity to the virus in various places, but there were no results.
"Was there no radio in the village where you were picked up? You could have used it to request the government in Hokkaido to rescue you for research because you have immunity."
"I already tried that... but they didn't believe me. In reality, it seems there were many times right after the pandemic where people who hadn't even been bitten by the infected made false rescue requests saying they had immunity because they wanted to be saved alone."
The same thing was repeated many times, and in the beginning, the government and JSDF believed it and sent rescue teams. However, the results obtained in exchange for dangerous rescue activities and the accompanying loss of personnel were always just small-minded people who lied to be rescued despite having no immunity, and in the end, they began to ignore communications saying they were humans who didn't get infected and to help them.
"That's why I want you all to take this blood. Maybe the people I sent before have already handed it over, but there's a possibility the samples were insufficient. Or maybe they weren't believed and it was thrown away."
"What if they don't believe you this time either?"
To that question, the man answered with a light laugh.
"In that case, I'll just have the next people I send take my blood."
After finishing the blood collection, Tanaka took a digital camera from his pocket and photographed the bite wounds on the man's body. It was a plan to increase the credibility that the blood was taken from a human who didn't get infected by showing the blood samples and the photos of the man's bite scars at the same time.
To Tanaka and the others' suggestion that he should come with them as far as Cape Oma where the JSDF was stationed, the man shook his head. If the man were the first non-infecting human the government or JSDF had found, there was no telling what kind of treatment he would receive afterward. He might be confined in a hospital and researched endlessly, or in the worst case, he might be subjected to dissection.
Researching the man might lead to the development of a vaccine and the saving of many people, but that said, the man couldn't leave alone the people who were seeking help all over Japan right now.
"Well then, it's finally time for goodbye."
The man, donning the mask made by Onodera and adjusting his clothes, said. With protectors attached to his arms and shins, a double-barreled shotgun and a machete under his coat. The man, fully armed with a rifle on his back, would now be heading south to danger again.
The man straddled the motorcycle and started the engine. Plastic jerry cans were strapped to the rear of the motorcycle, and he said there was enough gasoline to somehow return to the south. To the question of what he would do if usable gasoline became unavailable in the future, the man answered nonchalantly, "I'll just look for a bicycle then."
"You've managed to survive. Don't waste that life."
Finally saying that, the man started the motorcycle. Along with a reliable engine sound, the motorcycle began to run, and the back of the coat grew smaller and smaller.
What on earth was that man, Akira thought again.
The man said he was a nobody. A nameless man who had lost his memory and face and returned from hell. At the root of his actions was the simple thought of wanting to help someone.
For that, he didn't care how much danger he faced or how much he lost. He fought those who tried to hurt someone and reached out to those seeking help.
He's like a hero I saw on TV when I was a kid. Remembering the mask Onodera made for the man, Akira thought so.
Only, it was regrettable that he couldn't know the man's name until the end.

---

I look forward to your opinions and impressions.

The next one will truly be the final chapter (planned). Probably.

This time it really is the end, so please stay with this hellish world for just a little longer.