In a near-future society, humanity is split into rulers and the ruled. The ruled have no rights. Children without parents are raised in facilities and shipped out as disposable resources once they reach adulthood. Werner, a noble of the ruling class, hosts death games as entertainment using these people. The preliminaries are a simple war of attrition—hundreds run, and only survivors advance. The champion of the main event is promised "human rights."
Kaito and Ren, both facility-raised, survive
A Will for the Survivors - Episode 4: Three Points Bring Death — The Arithmetic of Hesitation
The air before dawn smelled of wet iron.
Kaito had propped his back against the wall beside a window frame stripped of its glass, on the second floor of an abandoned factory, and surfaced from a shallow sleep. When he opened his eyes, the eastern sky was just beginning to pale. It was the hour when the outlines of the Sunadokei District slowly rose out of the blue-black dark.
(Could I sleep?)
He asked himself. The answer was vague. He couldn't tell where letting go of consciousness ended and simply having his eyes closed began. His body was heavy as lead, and every joint felt chilled through.
He glanced at the resource terminal on his wrist. In the small window on its surface, the character for "0." Zero rings in his possession. But in the chest pocket of his work clothes, three small hard rings pressed their weight through the fabric.
Unconfirmed rings.
Ones he'd picked up but didn't yet hold. They didn't show on the terminal. Invisible to the audience, to the oddsmen, to the other participants. The only loophole in this game.
Kaito rose slowly to his feet.
His knees creaked. Yesterday's breakout from the encirclement had left him with countless small cuts and bruises. There was pain, but not enough to stop him from moving.
(Today is the second day.)
A full day had passed since the main event began. The participants had numbered in the thirties. Of those, seventeen had already dropped out. Around twenty-some remained.
Rolling the numbers through his head, Kaito moved through the factory's interior. Killing his footsteps, going from shadow to shadow of rusted piping. Through gaps in the collapsed walls, he checked the outside.
In the distance, metal struck concrete.
Once. Twice.
On the third, the sound stopped.
(It's started.)
Kaito moved only his eyes, scanning his surroundings. A surveillance drone—a "fly"—crossed the still-dim sky without a sound. Its red eyepiece blinked faintly.
That was when it happened.
"—Inspection. Do not move from where you are."
The voice came from the factory entrance.
A young woman's voice. Flat, without inflection, mechanical in tone.
Kaito stayed hidden in the shadows and caught the speaker at the edge of his vision.
A gray uniform. Long black hair tied back in a single bundle. Narrow black eyes. A small mole behind her right ear. At her hip hung a terminal of the same model as the participants'.
Operations support.
A staff member of the Resource Management Bureau. She handled the game's practical affairs—explaining the rules, dealing with terminal malfunctions. He'd heard she was from the resources herself, contracted to be shipped out once the game ended.
Kaito watched her movements.
No wasted motion in her walk. Her gaze constantly swept her surroundings. Her right arm stayed positioned where she could reach the terminal at her hip at any moment.
(She's trained.)
The operations-support girl stood at the center of the factory and operated the terminal in her hand.
"All participants, we will now conduct a terminal inspection. Follow my instructions and hold up your left wrist where you are."
Her voice carried well.
From the shadows, several participants emerged hesitantly. Kaito didn't move. Most of them were survivors of yesterday's killing. Their faces were the color of clay, worn down by exhaustion and fear.
The operations-support girl checked each terminal swiftly. Her movements were precise, and no emotion showed at all.
"—A rules confirmation."
Without pausing her inspection, the girl spoke evenly.
"The survival line is three points. There are sixty rings in total. Timeout means immediate death. If you notice any abnormality in your terminal display, report it to me promptly. These are the rules—please confirm them."
Kaito watched the girl's mouth.
Her words were as precise as if she were reading from a textbook. But only her eyes moved, just slightly. She was appraising each participant's face, one by one.
(What is she looking at?)
Just then, the girl's gaze turned—for a single instant—toward the second floor of the factory, in the direction where Kaito was hiding.
Their eyes didn't meet—not exactly.
The girl looked away at once.
But a cold thing ran down Kaito's spine.
(She's noticed me.)
When the operations-support girl finished the inspection, she turned her back on the participants.
It was just before that.
"—Ah, and one more thing."
The girl stopped.
"Participants holding three points or more have been targeted since this morning. Be careful."
Her voice softened, just slightly.
For a single instant. Just a little.
Kaito didn't miss the change.
(A warning?)
Operations support, giving a warning to a participant. Did such a thing happen?
The girl said nothing more and walked off toward the factory entrance.
Her back disappeared into the dim light.
Kaito couldn't move for a while.
(That woman isn't just operations support.)
He was certain.
But chasing down her true identity wasn't for now.
Kaito exhaled slowly and stepped out from the shadows.
"—Hey, did you hear that just now?"
The voice came from behind him.
Kaito didn't turn around.
"I heard it."
"That woman's voice changed at the end, didn't it?"
Ren appeared from a gap in the collapsed wall. Brown curly hair, bright amber eyes. Freckles on his cheeks. A mouth that always seemed to be smiling. But his eyes weren't smiling.
"It was a warning."
"Right? Operations support, going out of her way. Something's off."
Ren stood beside Kaito. The distance between them was about a step and a half. Close enough that their shoulders didn't touch.
"People holding three or more are starting to get targeted."
"Even though they've met the survival line?"
"Because they've met it."
Kaito looked outside the factory.
"If you hold three points, you survive. So everyone else kills the ones holding three and takes theirs. If the survival line is three, then killing one person who holds three ends it."
"I see. Efficient."
Ren's voice was light.
But to Kaito, that lightness sounded forced.
"We're going."
"Where to?"
"To see what happens to someone holding three points."
Ren glanced at Kaito's profile for just a moment.
"...You really are merciless in that way."
"Like I care."
The two left the factory.
The morning Sunadokei District was quiet.
Almost too quiet.
Passing through the cluster of abandoned factories, the two moved to the north side of the block.
An old precision-machinery plant, where collapsed walls and rusted pipes tangled like a maze. Shattered concrete and twisted rebar lay scattered underfoot.
The air was cold, mixed with iron and oil and a faint trace of blood.
"Some people died around there yesterday."
Ren pointed toward a collapsed warehouse.
"I know."
"Right. Where were you hiding?"
"Over there."
Kaito pointed to the factory's second floor.
"Huh. I was on top of those pipes. The wind was strong all night. Thanks to that, I didn't sleep at all."
"Liar."
"You're so suspicious."
Ren laughed.
But behind that smile, Ren's eyes were constantly scanning their surroundings.
(This one hasn't slept either.)
Kaito saw the faint dark circles under Ren's eyes.
"—Stop."
Kaito suddenly halted.
Ren stopped at the same moment.
Ahead of them.
The factory's open atrium.
Morning light poured through the broken ceiling into a space about ten meters high.
Within that light were four figures.
One was on his knees on the ground.
Three surrounded him.
"Hey, wait. Let's talk."
The kneeling man was young. Around twenty. His work clothes were stained with mud and blood, and a blue bruise stood out on his face.
"I've got three points. I've met the survival line. So there's no reason for us to fight. Please, let me go."
The man set the crowbar he'd been holding on the ground.
"I've thrown away my weapon too. I'll give you my rings if you need them. So—"
"Shut up."
One of the three kicked the man in the stomach.
A dull sound.
The man's body folded into a V.
"You've got something wrong, don't you? We don't want your rings."
"Th-then—"
"It's that you're alive that's in the way."
Another one raised an iron pipe.
"If someone holding three points keeps living comfortably, we're in danger. So you're going to die here."
"Stop—"
The iron pipe struck the man's head.
A wet crunch.
The man's body toppled sideways.
The three stomped and beat the fallen man, again and again.
Soles slipped on blood. The iron pipe crushed flesh. The sound of bones breaking echoed through the atrium.
Kaito watched the whole thing from the shadow of a rusted pipe.
(—The reason to kill is that he met the survival line. That's all?)
The man was already motionless.
One of the three tried to remove the terminal from the man's arm. But it wouldn't come off. Instead, he bent the man's fingers one by one and forced off the rings he wore.
Three rings.
The three points the man had desperately protected.
The three took the stolen rings into their own hands.
That was the moment.
At the chest of the man who gripped the stolen ring, the terminal emitted a pale blue light.
"—Oh, it showed. Now I've got three points too."
The man smiled happily.
Surveillance drones captured that smile all at once.
Red eyepieces—three, four, five—gathered without a sound, scanning the man's face, his whole body, as if licking him.
(It lit up.)
Kaito narrowed his eyes.
(When you confirm a ring, the terminal lights up. If it lights up, the audience learns your location. The oddsmen too. And the other participants.)
The man still hadn't noticed.
How conspicuous he was right now.
"—Let's go."
Kaito left the spot without a sound.
Ren followed.
The two passed through the cluster of factories and moved to the wall of a collapsed warehouse.
"—Did you see that?"
Ren spoke in a low voice.
"Yeah."
"Even holding three points, you die. Rather, you die because you hold three points."
"That's right."
Kaito leaned his back against the warehouse wall.
"Meeting the survival line means, from the other participants' view, 'kill this one and I survive.' So anyone holding three points gets targeted first."
"...The organizers knew that, and still set the survival line at three."
Ren's voice turned cold.
"Make them hunt the ones holding three. The hunter becomes someone holding three. Then he gets hunted too. Forever, never ending."
"They won't let it end. The audience bets every time someone drops out. The longer the killing drags on, the more the betting heats up."
"...That's the worst."
"It's a bit late for that."
The two were silent for a while.
Morning light painted the warehouse wall white.
"—So, what do we do?"
Ren looked at Kaito's face.
"Don't pick them up."
Kaito said it shortly.
"If you pick them up, they register."
"Confirm them, and they light up."
"Light up, and you're targeted."
"In other words, we stay at zero the whole time."
"That's right."
Kaito put a hand to his chest pocket.
Three unconfirmed rings.
"Don't confirm what we're holding. Keep the terminal showing zero the whole time. That way, we look like 'two weak ones who haven't gotten any.'"
"If the ones holding three get hunted first, then the zeros get put off."
"Yeah. Because there's no value in hunting us."
"...Were you planning this from the start?"
Ren's eyes probed Kaito.
"You too."
Kaito met Ren's gaze.
Ren was silent for a moment.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"I guess so."
That smile was the closest to genuine he'd shown yet.
"Then it's settled. We play the two weak ones. The ones who can't get any, who aren't targeted, who have no value."
"Yeah."
Kaito pushed off the warehouse wall.
"—For that, there's one thing I need to do."
"What?"
"Back at that scene, two rings were lying on the ground."
Ren narrowed his eyes.
"Ones those three dropped?"
"Yeah. We don't pick them up."
"Don't pick them up?"
"If we pick them up, they show on our terminals. They light up.
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