>

It was the cell phone call that had summoned Mika Harima to this location.

“Hello?”

As soon as she answered the call in the middle of her lunch at Russia Sushi, the female voice on the other end had said, “I want to talk to you in private about Seiji. I’d prefer if he didn’t hear about this. Is that all right?”

The caller gave no name, and Mika did not ask for one. She played along and responded in a breezy tone so that Seiji could hear.

“…Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Hang on.”

Once she was outside the restaurant, the woman on the other end continued, “I’m guessing you managed to fool him. You really are despicable, the way you can just lie to Seiji like that.”

“Says the woman who messed with my face for the express purpose of deceiving her brother,” Mika replied, fully aware that she was speaking to Namie.

The other woman didn’t miss a beat or take the bait. “I didn’t lie to Seiji. I loved him,” she said, a bizarre excuse. “If you want that head the two of you are looking for…I could give it to you.”

“Huh?”

“However…I want to talk to you in person first.”

A lie.

Anyone who knew Namie even the least bit could instantly understand that she was lying.

“…Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“Listen, I’m not sure what to do, either… If I hand over the head to a foreign company, I have a guarantee that the police and Yagiri Pharmaceuticals’ muscle will protect me…but I want that to be my final resort.”

“…”

“But if I give Seiji the head, it will steal Seiji from me. I want to avoid that. If there’s anything where our interests are aligned, it’s that, isn’t it? So…I want to discuss what to do with the head—without Seiji knowing about it.”

Nothing in what Namie said was trustworthy. Nothing.

But Mika took her up on the offer, anyway.

As suggested, she came alone, without informing Seiji.

And now there she was, staring down the oncoming point of a pair of scissors…

But Mika was neither stupid nor ignorant enough to come without caution nor preparation.

Still, even though she was neither stupid nor ignorant, her choice of preparation was a rather odd one for a teenage girl.

Metal twanged awkwardly.

The next moment, the scissors were stuck in the ceiling, and a silver object in Mika’s right hand reflected what little light there was in the entrance.

“…What’s that?” Namie asked, glancing at the object.

“Isn’t it obvious? You did receive an education, didn’t you?” Mika mocked.

Namie snapped, “Of course I know what it is. The implication of my question was why you are carrying such a thing.”

Her eyes were narrowed, staring at the tool in Mika’s hand.

It was a trowel—the kind used in gardening, with a pointed tip. At first she’d thought it was a kitchen knife, based on the size and shine; but no, it was just a compact hand shovel.

The item was totally out of place in Mika’s outfit, in this location and situation. And yet she had swung it out of nowhere, deflecting Namie’s scissors in midair.

Why is she carrying that thing around? the other woman wondered. The question was only natural.

There were two women in an unoccupied building. One threw a pair of scissors, and the other deflected them with a hand shovel. The sequence of events was patently bizarre.

But the girl at the center of this abnormality merely grinned and said, “A part of me believed.”

“?”

“I knew this was a trap, but a part of me wondered if you might actually have a good reason to give me the head. I mean, you’re still Seiji’s sister.” Mika chuckled. But her eyes were not laughing. “Just by being related to Seiji, you have the gift of my unconditional trust. Isn’t that great? You’re so lucky! You should be much, much, much more grateful to him! You should be grateful to God. You should be very, very, very, very grateful that you were fated to be born in Seiji’s family!”

“Enough jokes. I want to know why you have that trowel,” Namie demanded.

Mika looked up at her and smirked. “Well…if I actually get the head, I’ll need a shovel, won’t I?”

“…?”

“I’ve been doing lots of tests, assuming that it’s about the size of a watermelon. I packed meats and bones of different sizes and toughness inside, did some tests…”

“What are…you talking about…?”

There was no abnormality in the girl’s voice. That was what helped Namie realize that she wasn’t bluffing or attempting to rattle her with nonsensical threats.

Mika was speaking the truth, nothing more.

“I figured that an edge this big…would be about the right size. But I can’t imagine the taste. I can’t imagine how a dullahan’s head will taste.”

A nasty, cold shiver ran down Namie’s back. An ordinary person would have trouble instantly processing what the girl was saying. But Namie, who had already ventured into the realm of the abnormal, understood what she meant within seconds.

Because she knew that if she were in that position, she would do the same.

So, she’s— Yes, I understand now.

“Are you claiming you intend to be one with the head? That’s totally illogical.”

Mika beamed, satisfied that the other woman understood her plans, and admitted, “That’s right. But so what? What’s your point?”

“…I have no point.”

Namie Yagiri’s frown softened somewhat. She took a moment to consider things.

Yes, she would do the same thing if she were in Mika’s position. If Seiji loved nothing but it, then just getting rid of that head wouldn’t be good enough. It would only become eternal within his own mind that way.

She had to be the head.

She would attempt to be one with the head, no matter how preposterous and illogical that might be.

Well…I suppose the difference is that I’d shave the head’s face off and place it over my face instead.

In fact, Namie was in a position to do exactly that. The reason she wouldn’t and hadn’t was because she still had pride in her position as his big sister. She couldn’t abandon all the love she’d built up that way.

It was this understanding of her own nature that made the presence of Mika Harima unforgivable to Namie.

“I need…to reassess my opinion.”

She reached down to her waist belt, running her fingers over an object attached to it. Then she pulled it loose from its case, revealing an eerie silhouette to Mika.

“Before, I just assumed you were a pesky nuisance…but from now on, I’ve upgraded you to the level of rival.”

In Namie’s hand was an aged medical saw, its blade rusted here and there.

She took a crisp step forward and, like flowing water, accelerated toward Mika.

With the tool in hand as her weapon and her twisted love for her brother her source of energy, Namie Yagiri turned into a hunter, closing in on her prey of Mika Harima.

“But in either case…what I do to you will be the same.”

A few dozen minutes earlier, on a cell phone call

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Dr. Kishitani? It’s been a while.”

“Oh? Ohh, ohh! It has been a while! You’re still alive—should I be congratulating you on that?”

“…We can skip the pleasantries. I’d like to schedule an emergency surgery—can you come to Yagiri Warehouse Three? It’s easy to get in there still because Nebula hasn’t started clearing it out yet.”

“Goodness me, has someone shot you? You certainly sound well enough over the phone.”

“…Actually, I’d like to request the same operation as last year. I want you to re-create a woman’s face. It’s the same girl as the last time, so it should be familiar enough, I believe?”

“Uhh…I’m not going to ask about the circumstances. Is tomorrow night all right?”

“You can’t do it now?”

“I’m afraid I’m off duty today. I’m not in Tokyo at the moment.”

“Ah…that’s too bad. She was unlucky.”

“…She was?”

“Yes.”

“If you don’t show up, I’ll be forced to carve up her face myself…and I’m guessing it will be quite painful to her.”

“And I suppose the humane thing for me to do is stop you?”

“It’s too late for you to do anything now, Doctor. But you were never the type to be concerned with things like this, were you?”

“Well, in this case, that girl happens to be Celty’s cooking teacher.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. If my intent was just killing her, I wouldn’t bother to call you.”

Namie ended the call there but continued speaking into the dead receiver.

“However, on your express request…I can make sure her tongue and right hand still work.”

Present moment, warehouse interior

“Knock it off and play nice… I was planning to leave your tongue and right hand functional…but if you keep darting and sneaking around, I can’t even guarantee that.”

The piles of wooden crates and cardboard created a simple maze in the warehouse, like miniature stacks of shipping containers on a dock. Namie prowled among them with her bone saw, taunting and threatening.

“I’m an amateur at plastic surgery, you know.”

They’d been playing tag for nearly ten minutes already.

Namie was on the prowl, reveling in her hunt like a monster.

After Mika just barely managed to block the first attack with her trowel, she knocked Namie over and escaped into the warehouse. Amid the gloom of the mazelike interior, lit only by the outside light coming through the open hallway, Mika’s voice echoed, “I’m surprised! I would have assumed you were just coming to kill me!”

“If that were the case, I would have just piped in poison gas the moment you entered the building.”

The queen of envy strode boldly, steadily, like the guardian of the labyrinth. In addition to the case for the saw, she had a number of other waist pouches equipped on her belt.

“I don’t want you to disappear; I want you to regret trying to steal Seiji from me. Plus, if you go missing…Seiji might take it upon himself to search for you, won’t he? He’s kindhearted enough to do that… I don’t want him to waste his time like that, but I also don’t want to show him your dead body, if I can avoid it,” Namie said, trembling slightly as she envisioned her brother’s face. “He’s just such a good boy… You can easily imagine him racked with grief over your death, even if you were just a stopgap solution. And I wouldn’t want you to confuse that emotion with love.”

“Ah-ha-ha-ha! Well, at least we agree that Seiji’s full of kindness!”

“Don’t you dare…use his name so casually,” Namie menaced, her voice’s pitch suddenly lowering. She twisted and swung into a reverse roundhouse kick, aimed at a cardboard box on a steel shelf. The movement was as precise and deadly as a metal-cutting machine.

The box shot off the other side of the shelf.

There came a short, sharp gasp from close beyond.

Damn, I missed.

Namie wasn’t a master of any particular martial arts, nor did she have the brute strength of a fellow like Shizuo Heiwajima. But she had been trained in self-defense methods since a young age—and when her emotions got the best of her, she could employ her body’s full potential to deliver lethal blows like this one.

As a matter of fact, she could have easily broken her leg. She’d be feeling the damage in her muscles and joints tomorrow.

But all that aside, Namie was not the type of fool to let her momentary opportunity escape.

She instantly launched herself off the floor and through the box-sized hole she had just created. It was not the superhuman movement of a gymnast or of a daring thief limboing through laser security, nor was it the sort of thing that an ordinary human would ever do without some amount of hesitation or preparation.

Namie could easily have significantly hurt herself in the attempt, but she was fearless, sliding across the long shelf and popping up to peer around the spot where she’d knocked off the cardboard box.

She’s not here?!

But she had heard the gasp come from right around this area. It was only seconds ago.

She glanced down both sides of the makeshift hallway bounded by standing shelves of materials but found nothing.

Where…?

Her ears, laser focused by the tension of the scene, picked up the sound of something shifting, scraping. Not from the left, right, front, or rear—but above.

“…!”

She looked up and tried to leap out of the way, but it was too late.

“Hi-yah!”

Mika, who had held her breath and climbed the shelving after that kick to the cardboard box, leaped onto Namie from above.

“Hi-yah”? Who are you acting cute for, you little bi—?

“Ah!” Namie gasped as she was slammed to the floor. Mika was sitting atop her chest, practically straddling her. The skin of her thighs beneath the skirt pressed against the swell of Namie’s breasts, soft flesh against soft flesh.

It would make for an erotic pose—if it weren’t for the hand shovel held menacingly against Namie’s throat.

“Don’t move now ,” the girl said impishly, staring down at the demon woman. She prodded her throat with the tip of the trowel.

Namie’s chest rose as she inhaled, rubbing against Mika’s thighs through her shirt. The girl on top grimaced and noted, “You’re hiding more under those clothes than I thought, Sister-in-law. Ha-ha!”

But her eyes were not laughing. Or rather, they were—but with a tinge of madness that was a far cry from ordinary good humor.

“So, how about it? Are you going…to tell me…where to find the head?”

Bit by bit, the end of the spade prodded harder into Namie’s throat. Despite being in danger of losing her life, her first instinct was to offer praise: “I’m…impressed. I didn’t think you were physically capable of this.”

“Let’s just say I’ve had experience climbing up apartment building walls and over fences.”

“Now you’re just bragging about your criminal record. Why don’t you save your stories for a blog? Then you can get flamed, tell Seiji you’re leaving him, and kill yourself,” Namie spat mockingly.

Mika merely put more weight on the blade. Bit by bit, bit by bit. But suddenly, the pressure stopped, and the shovel fell out of her hands.

“Wha…? H-huh…?”

The tool rolled off Namie’s throat to clatter against the floor of the warehouse.

“Why…can’t I…squeeze…?”

“About time it started working,” Namie grumbled. She held her left hand up so Mika could see. It was holding an object, likely taken from one of the pouches on her belt, just like the rusty saw.

“It’s a painless injector I bought from Nebula a while ago. You didn’t feel a needle, did you? Maybe more like…being grabbed by fingers trying to pry your leg away?” she taunted, tossing the injector onto the floor.

Powerless to stop itself, Mika’s body toppled and rolled to the left, allowing the other woman to switch places with her.

“That’s an old muscle relaxer I cooked up years ago. Don’t worry—it won’t kill you,” Namie said, taking a seated position over Mika’s waist so she could stare down at the girl. “What a horrid, hateful face you have. That doctor did good work,” she murmured, stroking Mika’s cheek.

“Ah…”

“Now, out of curiosity…how far have you and Seiji gotten?” Namie asked suddenly. It was the kind of question a close girlfriend would ask another teen. Only in this case, there was no curious, excited grin on her face—there was no smile at all.

“Please…don’t make me say it out loud,” Mika said in embarrassment.

“Have you…kissed yet?”

“…”

Mika merely looked back at Namie and then averted her eyes again.

“…So you have,” the older woman said, taking the girl’s response as confirmation.

“S-so…so what if I— Mmph?”

Namie leaned closer and covered Mika’s mouth with her own.

“Mm! Mmm?!”

Mika tried to struggle, to flop her limbs around, but her body wouldn’t take orders. After several seconds that felt like an eternity, Namie slowly pulled back. Her eyes were cold, full of hatred and disgust.

“I cannot stand the thought…that your face still bears the sensation of kissing Seiji. I feel sick doing this with another girl, but focusing on the fact that I’m indirectly kissing him almost puts me in a trance…”

Namie’s mouth curled into a mocking smile, triumphant now that she had paralyzed her opponent. Then it took on a crueler note, and she pulled a bottle of medicine from another pouch.

“You know, I could have just carved it off with the bone saw,” she said, holding up the unlabeled brown bottle, “but instead, I think I’ll use this fast-acting solution designed to melt human skin off without being fatal. It’s not my own formula, but it’s just so hard to work with sulfuric acid without killing the patient, you know?”

“…”

“Whoever made this sure was a sicko…but it seems like the perfect medicine for your problem, no?”

There was no bluff, no threat in Namie’s eyes—only truth.

Mika instinctually understood that the woman was about to obliterate her face. But without being able to control her body, there was very little she could do to protect herself.