The Fourth Shot

Smile World was a mind control drug; that much Fukei had learned. It also significantly boosted the recipient’s physical ability, judging by his encounters against said recipients. However, in return, the victims of the drug would always have a smile on their faces, hence the name.

Yet, on Fuutarou’s – one of the Smile World children – face right now, there was only half a smile. Perfectly split vertically on his face were two opposite reactions, one of sorrow and anger, while the other filled with the usual elation. While the faint of heart would lose their consciousness on the spot, for Fukei, who had already been through enough things to live off his entire life without any more stimulants, it was nothing short of a beacon of hope. All because of a simple matter.

The part that bore anger clearly was against Fukei. It focused all of its hatred against him, and it didn’t take a genius to guess why.

So he did care about the girl, Fukei clutched his fist.

That part was out to get Fukei with all it had. But it also meant that whatever Smile World was doing to their brain, a good enough shock could undo it.

At least, that was Fukei’s theory. However, in order to put it to the test, he needed a lot more than just half a facial expression.

He decided to bank on his intuition. “Come on, punk!” He taunted, and this time, it was him that showed the signature grin to his opponent. “Was that all you got? All of that just to stand there and yell at me like some old crone in a lawn? If you’re that pissed, then come and get me!”

“Satou Fukeiiiii!” The husk of a boy had snapped before those mere words. With his eyes turning white from madness, Fuutarou charged at Fukei like a wild bull. Or rather, a mad dog – his mouth was already foaming.

Fukei, however, took no time to rest. With a quick jump to the side, he avoided the charge with ease, and as a bonus, managed to sic the rampaging boy with the pocket knife he snatched away from Miko mere moments ago.

Though it pained him to admit it, Fukei was getting used to the situation. Goh was the initial trigger, but the two encounters with Shirou and Miko had tempered his mind into the sharpest steel. If his first shot was only an accident, his second was the consequences of an emotional outburst, then his third was a conscious act of self-defense. He was aware of the entire thing – and so came the rationale to calm his mind.

No more panic attacks. No more crumbling under pressure. Fukei was now, uncomfortable as it might be, comfortable with the idea of murder. It was them, or him – the choice was obvious.

But it didn’t mean that Fukei was trying to kill Fuutarou now. He was injuring his opponent, of course, but that was all part of his plan to awaken the raged beast fully. As long as the smile wasn’t wiped from his opposition’s face, Fukei would keep playing the villain until the end.

He was out of guns to fire, however, and his hand-to-hand combat wasn’t exactly stellar. Though his scuffles were aplenty with other kids in his school and in the neighborhood alike, Fukei never had a proper melee fight before in his life until now. And his inexperience showed – what he aimed for was a deeper cut to at least immobilize Fuutarou, all he managed to do was a slight scratch, barely enough to see a drop of blood oozing from the latter’s shoulder.

“I’ll kill you!” Meanwhile, the opponent was still in his maddening state. But whatever Fukei was doing, it was working: the smiling part hadn’t talked in a while now, and it had shrunken ever so smaller than before.

Fuutarou charged forward again, lowering his head even more – the only thing separating him and a wild bull by now was only a lack of horns. But in return, his speed was almost twice as fast, maybe even more. Combined with his constant screaming, it was more akin to seeing a freight train ramming itself straight towards Fukei.

But the boy had expected that. And this time, an idea came up within him.

As Fuutarou approached him, the image of Miko flashed within Fukei’s mind. The acrobatic move she did with Fuutarou as a base, aside from the fact that it was used in an attempt to kill him, was nothing short of breath-taking. Fukei had no base, but somehow, he thought that this would work. And it did, even if he himself was taken by surprise.

Taking a step back, Fukei jumped. It was entirely a vertical jump, but at the same time, his upper body shifted forward, and in turn, lifted his legs from behind. A classic front flip. As his body rotated according to its horizontal axis, Fukei put his strength into his right heel, and in turn, kicked backward as hard as he could.

A front flip turned into a mid-air axe kick. And the timing was perfect, as Fukei’s heel landed directly on Fuutarou’s charging head, delivering his full force onto his victim’s head. The impact was so great, in fact, that it planted the boy’s chin down a few centimeters onto the soft ground they were on.

But Fukei had no time to rest on his laurels. This was only step one of his plan.

Wasting no time from the movement, Fukei took advantage of the remaining torque in his kick to plant his legs firmly on the ground and leapt forward, flinging himself over Fuutarou’s belly-lying body. The target was only one – the gun he kept in his back pocket.

Even in their short confrontation, Fukei had already figured out that Fuutarou was the better marksman among the two siblings. Naturally, his gun would be in a more convenient place for him to get a hold on, but in this crazed state, the boy had discarded his advantages completely. In turn, as Fukei got more and more used to fighting, his skills with a gun slowly increased in the process.

Snatching Fuutarou’s gun with only a swipe, Fukei slammed his elbow down his opponent’s back and clocked the stolen gun immediately:

“Move and I’ll shoot! Now, answer slowly: how do you feel about me?”

The ground was silent. However, Fukei knew his target didn’t die – he could still feel the torso rising and lowering.

Did he lose consciousness? Fukei thought. But the voice that came after immediately proved him wrong.

And to make matters worse, it was the one voice he didn’t want to hear.

“Haha… Hahahahaha!”

It was a laughter that tore through the air itself.

“As I expected! Fukei, you have a gift!” Fuutarou exclaimed. Even if his face was eating dirt, the grin on it was clearer than ever. “Now, come on! Finish the job, and join our ranks as our sworn sibling!”

Fukei’s hands were shaking again. His push towards his opponent grew weaker, if just ever so slightly.

“I won’t do as you say anymore!” He shouted. “I have the upper hand now! Whether you live or die is up to me to decide!”

“Oh, is it?”

A snap echoed through the woods. Fukei’s heart almost jumped out of his chest right at that moment, when Fuutarou’s head made a complete 180-degree turn.

“Well, too bad for you!” The head laughed one last time before falling completely silent, yet its eyes still opened wide, and its grin was still present as ever.

However, the body had stopped. Fukei couldn’t feel his breathing anymore.

Still panting from the shock, the boy had no choice but to stand up. But he knew that his torment was not over yet.

For there was still the last of the siblings yet to arrive.

And as if on cue, before he could take another step, the back of Fukei’s head had already felt the cold, uncaring sensation of a barrel:

“Let’s talk a bit, shall we?” Ichigo had finally appeared.