Copyright
THE ISOLATOR Volume 2
© REKI KAWAHARA
Translation by ZephyrRz
Cover art by Shimeji
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
ZETTAI NARU ISOLATOR
© REKI KAWAHARA 2015
All rights reserved.
Edited by ASCII MEDIA WORKS
First published in Japan in 2015 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.
English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo, through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.
English translation © 2016 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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First Yen On eBook Edition: November 2017
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ISBN: 978-1-9753-0075-3
E3-20171031-JV-PC
Sect. 002 THE IGNITER
1
What is a flame?
What happens when an object combusts?
In order to explain what happens during combustion, chemists in medieval Europe hypothesized an element they called “phlogiston.” It was thought all combustible material contained phlogiston, and when that material was heated, it would release the phlogiston in the form of fire and smoke. However, that hypothesis was discredited after experiments showed that when a material combusts, what is left over is slightly heavier than what was there before.
Of course, now we know that combustion is a form of oxidation. Fire is the result of when heated materials mix with the air to form a flammable gas and oxidize in a chain reaction, releasing light and heat. In other words, oxygen is the key to the mystery that allows the beautiful and intense phenomenon of combustion to take place.
Oxygen.
O-x-y-g-e-n, oxygen.
“Oxy…gen! ” sang a man, who goes by the name Ayato Suka, before spreading his arms wide and taking a deep breath.
The oxygen particles from the air that were sucked in through Suka’s nostrils flowed down his bronchial tubes and into his lungs, where they then passed through his alveolar sacs and into his bloodstream. The murky blood from his veins was cleansed and regained its brilliance and beautiful red color before being sent off to the rest of his body.
At the same time, tears gently flowed from under Suka’s closed eyes, tears of gratitude. The intensity of his gratitude sent shivers down his spine, and goose bumps rose all over his skin.
Right now, in the mitochondria throughout Suka’s body, ATP was being synthesized through reactions with hydrogen and oxygen. This, too, was a form of combustion. Oxygen, in all its glory and with its infinite mercy, allows not just mankind, but all life, a peaceful and harmless form of combustion.
It is for that reason, we must give our greatest thanks with every breath.
But even so…you people never…
Suka opened his eyes and looked down at the scene below him.
He was standing on a small ledge, beyond the fence on the roof of a fifteen-story building, so the people walking on the street below looked like specks. On the road in front of the west entrance to Ikebukuro Station were long lines of taxis and private vehicles, and the wide walkways were filled with pedestrians.
Inside of the engines of the cars crawling along the congested road, oxygen was sucked into the cylinders to be mixed with aerosol gasoline and forced into performing a meaningless combustion. The ugly chorus of exhaust sounded as if the oxygen particles were screaming out in anger.
Not only that, but the oxygen breathed in by the people walking down below was also being wasted for stupid reasons. To supply the energy for their meaningless conversations and their meaningless movements, oxygen was being polluted and released as exhaust.
But even so, they never give thanks… They don’t even think about the process at all.
You don’t know. You don’t know how glorious, how terrifying, how dangerous oxygen is.
“So I will show you,” Suka sang.
The center of Suka’s right palm throbbed with heat, as if it were agreeing with him, supporting him, egging him on. Suka extended his right hand, curling his fingers as if he were gripping a clear ball about ten centimeters in diameter. He had never successfully tried gripping something of this size before, but this time would be different. In preparation for this moment he had spent a month camping in the mountains of Okutama, at harmony with its sweet and fresh oxygen.
Moving his fingers, Suka focused on one of the people on the walkway far below.
It was a young businessman wearing a gray suit. Perhaps he was waiting for someone, as he had stood on the edge of the walkway for about thirty minutes without moving. As he irritatingly messed about with his smartphone, he breathed out clouds of smoke. At his feet on the pavement, where a NO SMOKING sign was painted, more than ten cigarette butts had accumulated. As Suka watched on, the man had already put another cigarette in his mouth and was pulling out his lighter.
“Oxy…gen…,” muttered Suka in a deep voice as he put strength into his grip.
As if the imaginary clear ball Suka was “holding” had suddenly taken form, he felt a strong resistance pushing his fingers back. At the same time, the throbbing pulse coming from the thing inside his hand began to accelerate. With his joints starting to creak, Suka put all his strength and energy into his grip, and the imaginary ball slowly began to shrink.
“O-oxy…!!”
As sweat formed on Suka’s forehead and the veins in his hand rose to the surface, the imaginary ball shrank to about five centimeters in diameter, but an overwhelming hardness kept his fingers from contracting any further.
Maybe this grip is more than I can handle, thought Suka, but if he couldn’t manage at least this much, he would never get the results he wanted.
Through clenched teeth, Suka’s abnormal voice rushed out. “…gen!! Oxy-gen!!!”
Leaning backward and pulling together all his strength, Suka was finally able to break through the invisible shell that was holding him back and grip his fingers together.
Through the gaps in Suka’s fist, crimson beams of light shot forth. On the walkway down below, a sudden gust rushed by as people stumbled, pulling at their jackets and holding down their skirts, but that wind was merely a side effect.
The young businessman Suka had focused on, not seeming to notice the gust, placed his thumb on the flint wheel of his lighter as he brought it to his face. The spark from the struck flint flew toward the oil-soaked wick. The resulting flame burned ferociously, leaping more than thirty centimeters into the air. The flame not only burned away the man’s cigarette but also engulfed his head and hair.
“Gyaaahhh!!!” Th
e man’s high-pitched screams could be heard even from where Suka stood, on the roof of that fifteen-floor building, and the screams from onlookers soon followed.
The businessman with his head on fire collapsed onto the pavement and squirmed, trying to put out the flame, but no matter what he did, it would not weaken or dissipate.
But of course. After all, that man was engulfed in a thick concentration of nearly 100 percent oxygen. With the power of the crimson sphere embedded in Suka’s right fist, he had pulled all the oxygen from the surrounding air and concentrated it in that one spot.
Now, the pillar of fire had engulfed the businessman and had risen to a height of several meters. Leaves and garbage that had been pulled in by the gust of wind exploded as they instantly burned away, adding in a little extra flair.
“Kuh… Ku-ha-ha-ha-ha,” chuckled Suka, unable to contain the laughter curdling deep within his throat.
Did you see that? Have you finally learned just how frightening and beautiful oxygen is?
In the midst of the flame, the businessman had stopped moving. His hands and feet melted and crumbled as he stood, and before long nothing remained but black carbonized ash. But still Suka would not release his grip. The flames heated the pavement until it glowed red, like lava. Who knows what the temperature had reached in the middle of that flame? But as long as there was material that could be oxidized, nothing would quell the intense anger of that oxygen.
Worship the flame, the beautiful phenomenon of oxidation.
Unable to run away, the idiotic onlookers had all fallen to their knees or collapsed. Of course, that was due to the fact the surrounding air was deprived of oxygen, but to Suka it looked as if they were bowing down in fear to the gigantic flame.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.” Suka’s thin body twisted as his shoulders shook with laughter.
Suka’s power, which for a long time could only start a small flame, finally was able to burn away an entire human being. But this still wasn’t enough.
It was not enough to cause the flames of Sodom that Suka needed in order to make humanity aware of its idiocy, aware of its wasteful synthesis of carbon dioxide from such a precious thing as oxygen.
Suka needed to take hold of the oxygen in an even wider area.
“Oxygen—! Oxygen—! ” he sang, finally releasing his grip.
“Oxy-oxy-oxygen—! ”
The skin in the center of Suka’s right palm was split, opened up like an eye slit revealing a glossy wet sphere the color of blood. As the wind settled down below, a section of the brick pavement was now like glass, exposed to temperatures more than one thousand degrees Celsius. In the center of that, a single irregular black stain was all that remained.
2
Minoru Utsugi stepped out of the taxi and stared blankly at the rows of trees on either side of the road. Adjusting his scarf, which had started to slip, he turned to his fellow passenger, who had just left the taxi herself.
“…Is this the place?” he asked.
“This is it,” said Yumiko Azu, nodding, with the hint of a mischievous smile as her glossy hair waved behind her.
Yumiko hadn’t said a word since they’d left Yoshiki High School in Saitama City, Saitama, so Minoru thought she might have been upset, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
Even so, Minoru didn’t have the composure needed to give much thought to Yumiko’s mood at the moment. After all, here he was, at the headquarters of the Ministry of Health, Labor, and Welfare’s Industrial Safety and Health Department’s Specialized Forces Division, the SFD. Yet this place Minoru was suddenly taken to go see, supposedly the headquarters of a secret organization founded to protect mankind, was a wooded area not unlike Akigase Park, located near Minoru’s home in the Sakura district of Saitama.
“…Where in Tokyo are we anyway?” asked Minoru in a low voice to Yumiko, his SFD senior, after waiting for the taxi, along with the sound of its electric motor, to leave.
The taxi, which had picked Minoru up right outside of school, had spent nearly thirty minutes on the expressway connecting Saitama and the Tokyo metropolitan area, before making several turns after exiting, so Minoru, who had no experience with the area, had no idea where they were.
“This is actually part of Shinjuku,” answered Yumiko before pointing a slender finger out toward the winter afternoon sky.
“West Waseda Station on the Fukutoshin line is over there, and over this way is Waseda Station on the Tozai line. I suppose we’re about halfway between the two. By its address, headquarters is in Toyama 3-chome, Shinjuku,” Yumiko continued.
“Shinjuku…”
The first things that came to Minoru’s mind were the iconic twin towers of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building. Having seen those towers in photographs and on TV before, Minoru looked around to see if he could find them, but he couldn’t see anything past the trees.
“Umm… So where is the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building?” Minoru asked.
Minoru thought he had asked a serious question, but after staring dumbstruck at him for a moment, Yumiko looked as if she was trying to hold back laughter.
“There’s no way we’d be able to see that from here. The Metropolitan Government Building is on the west side of Shinjuku Station, and where we are is basically the northeastern tip of the district,” she finally answered.
“Oh… All right, then,” muttered Minoru, nodding.
Was that really such a stupid question? In Saitama at least, you can see the tall buildings in the urban center from anywhere along the Arakawa River…, Minoru thought to himself.
“If there’s time later, why don’t you go walk around and familiarize yourself with the area?” Yumiko said, without offering to be a guide, and then lifted the backpack she was holding in her right hand and slung it over her shoulder.
“Come on, let’s go,” said Yumiko before starting off in a brisk walk down the sidewalk that ran along the trees.
It was Friday, December 13, exactly one week since Minoru had first encountered Yumiko at Akigase Park. Yumiko was wearing a black blazer, a gray pleated skirt, black tights, and mid-cut sneakers, just like she’d worn seven days before. Minoru couldn’t tell, however, whether she had the same high-powered stun baton or combat knife hidden away under her skirt as she did then.
Having walked about ten meters ahead, Yumiko took a sudden left. When Minoru rushed to catch up to her, he saw an iron gate red with rust, which opened to a small path leading into the trees. After walking down that path for another ten seconds, crunching over leaves that had fallen over the asphalt, the path led to a wide square enclosure with trees on all sides. There, Minoru stopped dead in his tracks.
What stood quietly before him was a boxy, old five-story apartment building.
The outer wall of the building was concrete, and it looked like it had seen better days. About 30 percent of the building was covered in green moss, another 30 percent covered in vines, and the remaining 40 percent was dark from stains left over from the rain.
Minoru guessed that there were four apartments per floor, making a total of twenty units in the five-story building. Looking up at the verandas above, there were even clothes and mats hanging out to dry. There was nothing that looked secret or base-like about it.
Well, actually… I suppose that’s the point, thought Minoru before timidly turning to Yumiko.
“So…does this mean there’s a high-tech secret base hidden underground?” he asked.
“If you dug around here, all you’d find is a base for earthworms and pill bugs,” answered Yumiko curtly. She walked ahead toward the building, and Minoru hurriedly followed after her.
When it comes to not looking the way you would expect, I suppose this building and Yumiko are the same. Who would expect this normal-looking girl in a school uniform to be hiding a stun baton, a large knife, and the ability to amplify acceleration? Not to mention the fact that she is the host of a “Jet Eye,” a black Third Eye…
No, I need to stop.
> Don’t look. Don’t think. Don’t make any more memories.
Minoru pulled his gaze away from Yumiko and stared at the ground beneath his feet.
When one first starts learning about someone, those memories that form will demand to expand. Even more dangerous than wanting to know more about someone is how that emotion later translates into oneself wanting that person to know more about them.
The reason I came here, as the host of a Jet Eye, was not to fight the Ruby Eyes, nor was it to protect the people who inevitably become their victims. It was in order for me to reach a world, which I have been searching for for so long, where no one would know who I am. That is the only reason I am cooperating with them.
Minoru walked forward, tugging at the collar of his Chesterfield coat, which he had on over his school uniform.
Yumiko wordlessly walked ahead into the entrance of the apartment building and pressed the button on an old-looking elevator positioned at the back of the first floor. The elevator opened slowly and reluctantly, as if there was something wrong with the joints in the door.
The elevator was cramped and shook back and forth enough to make Minoru nervous several times as it went up. When Minoru looked at the area over the door, he could not find an inspection sticker. If that wasn’t enough, for some reason the fragrance drifting over from Yumiko’s hair as she stood diagonally in front of him made him feel even more nervous.
Now that I think about it…I had PE fifth period. I probably smell sweaty. I bet that’s why she has her back turned to me, Minoru thought. He had just begun to consider activating his protective shell when the elevator finally reached the top floor.
The doors rumbled open and Minoru followed Yumiko out, pausing to take a short breath, and looked at his surroundings.
“Huh?!” Minoru gasped in surprise.
The first reason for his surprise was that the elevator did not lead out into a hall but opened immediately into a room. The second reason was that the room was incredibly spacious. There was a long distance between the left and right walls, and it appeared as if all of the interior walls on the fifth floor had been knocked out to make way for a large single room. The room spanned about 30 meters from east to west and 80 meters from north to south, which would mean the room had an area of 240 square meters. Given that one tatami mat is 1.6 square meters, this was a 150 tatami mat–size room.