電車の中でも寝る前のベッドの中でもサクサク快適に。
もっと読みたい！がどんどんみつかる。
「読んで」「書いて」毎日が楽しくなる小説アプリをダウンロードしよう。
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電車の中でも寝る前のベッドの中でもサクサク快適に。
もっと読みたい！がどんどんみつかる。
「読んで」「書いて」毎日が楽しくなる小説アプリをダウンロードしよう。
テラーノベル
アプリでサクサク楽しめる
At dawn on a spring day, at a tourist ranch in the Tama area of Tokyo, employees were herding several cows from the barn out to the vast pasture.
An older stable hand and a young rookie worked together to guide the cows into the open field. The young recruit repeatedly stifled a yawn.
Noticing this, the veteran laughed and said, “What’s the matter? You look like you can barely keep your eyes open.”
The rookie replied with a wry smile, “Well, I’d heard that mornings at the ranch start early, but … this is tougher than I imagined.”
“You’ll get used to it eventually. I was the same way when I first started this job.”
Just as they led the third cow out of the barn, the rookie pointed toward the edge of the pasture and muttered.
“What is that? That’s a huge bird.”
The veteran shielded his eyes with his hand and squinted.
“Did an ostrich escape from some zoo?”
At first, the giant bird moved slowly toward them, its thick legs striding along. One of the cows, sensing something amiss, let out a high-pitched bellow.
Hearing that, the giant bird suddenly picked up speed and broke into a sprint. A heavy thud-thud-thud sound echoed as it pounded the ground.
Thinking his depth perception might be playing tricks on him, the rookie rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. It wasn’t an ostrich.
It was far taller than an ostrich, and its head was disproportionately large — like that of a parrot.
“No, that’s not an ostrich. I-it’s a monster!”
The rookie shouted, while the veteran frantically shoved a cow back inside as it tried to escape the stable.
The approaching bird stood at least three meters tall. It possessed a massive body covered in reddish-brown plumage, legs like tree trunks tipped with hooked talons, and a thick, ivory-colored beak. Its head alone measured eighty centimeters in length — accounting for a full third of its total size.
Rushing forward with a ground-shaking thud, the giant bird raised one leg high and stomped down onto the back of a cow that had failed to escape in time.
The cow was pinned to the ground as the bird’s talons sank into its flesh. The massive beak then drove into the head of the thrashing, screaming animal.
After crushing the cow’s skull and silencing it, the bird’s beak tore open the carcass, gouging out chunks of flesh and viscera amidst a spray of blood.
The giant bird tilted its head straight up to swallow the torn meat. In moments, the cow was stripped of its flesh until the bones lay exposed.
Pale with terror, the two stablehands dashed inside the building and slammed shut the iron door of the stable where the cattle were kept; the veteran then rushed into the office.
With trembling hands, he punched the buttons on the landline phone. When the call connected seconds later, he screamed at the police operator on the other end:
“It’s an emergency — a cow is being attacked! No, not like that. It’s a bird. A huge, monstrous bird!”
The veteran worker’s face contorted as he glanced toward the glass window to check the situation outside. A bloodshot eyeball the size of a baseball was staring right at him from just inches away.
The deafening sounds of shattering glass and splintering wood frame rang out. Right before the eyes of the rookie worker — who was watching through the gap in the door separating the stable from the office — the veteran’s body was seized in a massive beak and dragged straight out through the window.
Collapsed on the floor in shock, the rookie could hear a voice coming from the landline receiver dangling off the desk.
“Hello? What was that sound? Can you hear me? Hello? What’s going on?”
Dozens of minutes later, a police riot squad had surrounded the ranch. The giant bird — which had kicked through the stable wall and devoured two more cows — was now sitting motionless in the pasture beneath the gloomy, overcast sky.
A patrol car slowly approached the stable and rescued the rookie worker, who had been trembling in the shadows.
Moving at a crawl to avoid provoking the bird, the patrol car returned to the squad’s staging area.
Inside the car, as officers questioned him about the incident, he spoke in a disjointed, delirious mumble.
“That monster … at the edge of the pasture … the cows got eaten … and then my senior colleague … my senior colleague … Aaaah!”
The riot squad commander rapped on the patrol car window. When the uniformed officer stepped out, the commander whispered to him, out of the worker’s earshot.
“Headquarters has issued an order to shoot it dead. We’ll move in as soon as the sniper rifle arrives.”
The uniformed officer responded with a look of relief.
“I’m counting on you. It doesn’t look like the sort of opponent we can handle with just our service pistols.”
“Also, just to be safe, the Governor of Tokyo has requested the Self-Defense Forces to deploy — under the pretext of pest control.”
“Even the Self-Defense Forces?”
“You need to get that young man to safety. Please also block off traffic in the surrounding area.”
Ten minutes later, a box-shaped riot police vehicle arrived, carrying sniper rifles. Ten riot police officers, each armed with a rifle, formed a semicircle and inched their way toward the giant bird.
The bird’s eyes snapped open, and it rose to its feet. Its bloodshot eyes, positioned three meters above the ground, scanned the officers; it seemed to have already sensed their presence.
Suddenly, the giant bird broke into a run, charging toward the officer positioned at the far left of the line. In mere seconds, it closed the distance and kicked the officer, sending his body flying through the air.
“Fire at will! Engage the target!”
The riot squad leader shouted the order, and the officers opened fire. The first two shots struck the bird’s body, sending reddish-brown feathers scattering into the air.
Yet, the bird showed little sign of damage and charged at the officer standing next in line. That officer fired his rifle but missed, unable to keep up with the bird’s incredible speed.
The officers couldn’t track the giant bird with their sights as it darted about at speeds likely exceeding sixty kilometers per hour.
The bird’s massive beak slammed into the face shield of the officer directly in front of it. Although he avoided a direct hit to his face, the impact sent him flying several meters backward.
The squad leader shouted: “Fall back! Retreat while rescuing the wounded!”
Other team members hoisted the two injured comrades onto their backs and sprinted toward the security vehicle. Just as they tried to scramble inside, the bird reached the vehicle first, swinging its massive head to deliver a crushing blow to the body of the car.
The security vehicle lurched violently and toppled onto its side. Behind the squad members — who were huddled together with their sniper rifles aimed outward — the horn of another vehicle blared shrilly.
An armored vehicle, featuring a dark green hull and eight wheels on each side, rumbled onto the ranch grounds. The riot squad leader muttered:
“Is that the Self-Defense Force?”
The machine gun mounted on the armored vehicle’s roof opened fire. With an agility that belied its massive size, the bird darted wildly in all directions, dodging the hail of bullets.
The armored vehicle came to a halt, and five Ground Self-Defense Force soldiers in combat gear leaped from the rear doors.
They unleashed a barrage of fire from assault rifles and light machine guns. With every hit, the bird’s reddish-brown feathers scattered and swirled into the air. Yet, the bird did not falter; it changed direction and charged straight toward the soldiers.
One of the soldiers shouldered an anti-tank recoilless rifle. He waited for the bird to close the distance, aimed at the center of its torso, and pulled the trigger.
Trailing a plume of orange flame, the anti-tank round shot forward and struck the bird in the belly. With a loud bang, a cloud of feathers exploded into the air, and the colossal bird collapsed face-first onto the ground.
Even as the massive body twitched spasmodically for nearly a minute, the soldiers kept their weapons trained on it, surrounding the creature.
Once they confirmed that the blood-soaked giant had finally stopped moving, the GSDF platoon leader reported the situation to his superiors via the armored vehicle’s radio. The platoon leader muttered as he returned the radio handset to its cradle.
“Looks like the Watari Lab is making an appearance.”
Late that afternoon, the Watari Lab van arrived at the ranch, escorted by a police car.
Professor Watari, Associate Professor Toyama, Matsuda, Miyashita, and Tsutsui gathered in a circle and looked down at the massive bird carcass.
Stroking his beard, Watari muttered: “By no stretch of the imagination is this a currently known species.”
Toyama pulled out a long tape measure and, with Matsuda’s help, began measuring the carcass. He murmured aloud, addressing no one in particular:
“Total length: 4 meters 12 centimeters. Standing height: just over 3 meters, I’d say.”
Miyashita grimaced, covering her nose with his palm.
“It looks like a bird, but … what exactly is it?”
Toyama spoke with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Sometimes, the intuition of a non-expert actually comes in handy. Don’t you agree, Ms. Tsutsui?”
Tsutsui started in surprise and replied hesitantly.
“Me?”
“How does it look to you? This creature.”
“Um, how should I put it? It’s like … if we took a Tyrannosaurus and swapped its jaw for a beak. There’s a theory going around lately that Tyrannosaurus had feathers, right?”
Toyama looked impressed.
“Spoken like a true newspaper reporter — you really know your stuff. You’re not far off the mark. This is likely a ‘terror bird.’”
Matsuda blinked in confusion and asked: “A ‘terror bird’? What exactly is that?”
Toyama answered while winding the tape measure back in.
“The Miocene epoch — well, about fifteen million years ago. It’s a general term for flightless birds belonging to the Phorusrhacidae family that flourished during that era. Instead of flying, they sprinted across the ground at high speeds. You see birds like that today, too — ostriches or cassowaries, for instance.”
Watari tilted his head and spoke.
“An ostrich’s head is much smaller than that. Besides, birds of that type are omnivores that lean toward a plant-based diet. Were there really birds that hunted and preyed on large animals like cattle?”
Toyama answered while searching for data on his tablet.
“Dinosaurs went extinct about sixty-five million years ago, ushering in the age of mammals; however, before the terrestrial food chain could fully re-establish itself, there was a period when the apex predator slot — previously held by creatures like Tyrannosaurus —was temporarily vacant. Essentially, there were no large hunters left to roam the land and prey on herbivores.”
Tsutsui gave a slight nod.
“So, the ‘terror birds’ stepped in to fill that role?”
Toyama nodded as well.
“This one looks to be a species called Kelenken. It was the largest species in the history of terror birds. After all, modern science accepts it as a fact that birds are the direct descendants of dinosaurs. It’s hardly surprising that a bird would take the place of a bipedal carnivorous dinosaur.”
Miyashita asked, still looking puzzled.
“Even if it is an ancient bird, does it not have wings?”
Toyama pointed to the body of the terror bird lying on its side.
“It does. Look, right there.”
Miyashita walked over to the carcass and peered closely; just below the base of the neck, there was a small, stubby appendage.
“Are these wings?”
“It appears to be largely vestigial. It likely served only to help balance the body while running at high speeds. That trait is believed to have put them at a disadvantage in the struggle for survival against large carnivorous mammals, leading to the extinction of the terror birds.”
Watari leaned forward, staring intently at the carcass of the terror bird as he spoke.
“Why has this terror bird — a creature supposed to be extinct — suddenly appeared in Japan? If it had actually survived, there should have been numerous sightings.”
Toyama’s expression turned serious.
“Carcasses of extinct Cenozoic species are sometimes found with partial cellular tissue preserved, not just as fossils. Frozen mammoths from Siberia are the prime example of that.”
Watari’s eyes flashed sharply.
“Are you implying it was brought back to life through cloning or something similar?”
“It’s purely a possibility. But, Professor Watari … we’ve encountered precedents like that plenty of times before, haven’t we?”
Early the following Monday morning, Watari and Matsuda were summoned to a faculty meeting at Teito University of Science. Watari returned to the lab just past noon, looking utterly exasperated, and slammed the stack of documents he was holding onto his desk.
Startled, Miyashita asked, “Professor Watari, what happened?”
Matsuda, who entered the lab right after him, scratched the back of his head and spoke apologetically.
“I’m afraid I’m the reason Professor Watari is so upset.”
Watari replied, his voice tinged with anger.
“It’s not Matsuda’s fault. Honestly, those blockheads on the faculty board are a real headache.”
Tsutsui asked, looking intrigued.
“Was there some kind of trouble? A campus scandal?”
Watari scowled and snapped.
“Just because your day job is a newspaper reporter, don’t go asking questions with such glee! They accused us — the Watari Lab — of conducting military research.”
Tsutsui nodded vigorously.
“Oh, I see. Well, we are dealing with the giant creature incident, after all. But it’s not military research, is it?”
Miyashita spoke with a sympathetic tone.
“You’re in a position that’s supposed to protect public safety, after all. But surely it’s not that unusual these days for Self-Defense Force personnel to enroll in university, is it?”
Matsuda replied with a wry smile.
“It happened right around the time the Air Self-Defense Force began deploying the Global Hawk, an unmanned aircraft. A lot of people mistakenly think it’s a weapon for killing.”
Tsutsui asked, “Isn’t that the same kind the U.S. military used for missile strikes in Iraq and Afghanistan?”
“No, that was the Predator — a completely different type. The Global Hawk is strictly for reconnaissance.”
“What about the Izumo-class destroyers becoming aircraft carriers?”
“The Izumo class are helicopter carriers. They simply carry anti-submarine patrol helicopters.”
“But they were modified to carry F-35Bs, right?”
“That seems to be a common misconception among the public. It’s true they’ve been modified to allow F-35Bs to land and refuel, but whether they’ll be used as attack carriers is a different matter entirely. Besides, which country would Japan possibly be launching airstrikes against from an aircraft carrier? The capability to do so and the decision to actually use it are two different things — it’s a matter of political judgment. The Self-Defense Force is strictly committed to a policy of exclusively defensive posture.”
Watari chimed in.
“With the level of scientific and technological progress we have now, drawing a clear line between military and civilian applications is impossible — and pointless. And that goes double for …”
Miyashita and Tsutsui couldn’t help but burst out laughing at Watari’s next words.
“As for researching artificial earthquake weapons — do you think that’s even possible, even if I wanted to? Just because I’m a seismology professor, of all people!”
The next day, while stopping by the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building for a personal matter, Miyashita noticed that the road leading to Shinjuku Central Park had been cordoned off by the police.
It was early afternoon on a weekday, and the area was bustling with pedestrians; ropes had been strung up, and over ten uniformed officers stood at various points along the street, directing passersby to take detours.
Miyashita took her police identification out of her inner jacket pocket and asked the nearest uniformed officer, “I’m Miyashita belonging to the Headquarters. Is there an incident?”
The officer glanced at her ID and quickly saluted.
“We discovered a number of illegally parked trucks along the roads bordering Shinjuku Central Park and Shinjuku Gyoen Park. None of the drivers were around, and since there was a fear they might be carrying explosives, we’re taking precautions just in case.”
“I’d like to see the nearest truck. Is that possible?”
“I’ll have someone show you. Hey, Officer Yokota.”
He called over a female uniformed officer standing nearby.
“This is an Assistant Inspector from Headquarters. Please guide her to the scene at Location 3.”
Led by the officer, Miyashita went to the road alongside the park and found a 10-ton truck brazenly parked in a no-parking zone.
A large, box-shaped container sat on the truck bed. Attached to the rear door of the container was a small device with an LCD display showing a countdown: 90 seconds remaining.
Miyashita and the female officer took cover in the shadow of a nearby building, waiting for the countdown to end.
The digital numbers on the container’s device all hit zero. At that same moment, the side wall of the container began to slide open.
Something stirred inside. From a crouched position, something rose and descended the wall of the container, which hung down to the ground.
The female officer gasped loudly. Miyashita, too, found her eyes riveted to the scene.
What emerged from the container was a massive bird — a flightless creature standing about three meters tall, covered in reddish-brown plumage and possessing a head unnaturally large for a bird.
It was a giant “terror bird” — the same species Toyama had called a Kelenken that had appeared at that ranch.
Several young men and women nearby, who looked like college students, blinked in surprise as they gazed up at the creature.
“What is that? A robot?”
“Is it a movie promo or something? It looks so real.”
The terror bird sprinted toward them and clamped its wide-open beak around the head of the nearest young man. It snapped its beak shut. Inside the crushing grip, the man’s body was mangled like a walnut in a nutcracker, and blood splattered across the road.
Bystanders finally realized the danger and scrambled to flee in a panic. Miyashita urged the female officer beside her to guide the crowd to safety, then drew her service pistol and attempted to sneak up on the terror bird from behind.
But she noticed the people who had just fled were running back toward her. Glancing in that direction, she saw the silhouette of another massive creature looming in the distance.
Another terror bird of the same type was walking toward them. Screams erupted from behind Miyashita and from streets further away.
Miyashita muttered in stunned disbelief.
“There’s more than one? Wait … They said many trucks …”
In the span of just over ten minutes, the Shinjuku skyscraper district transformed into a scene of utter pandemonium. Twenty Kelenkens — giant prehistoric birds —emerged from the beds of trucks surrounding the high-rises and began sprinting after the terrified, fleeing crowds.
Many people ran desperately, seeking refuge on the ground floors of nearby skyscrapers. However, these buildings often featured vast entrance halls with soaring atriums that opened up to the second or third floors.
For the Kelenkens, which stood three meters tall, these spaces were easily accessible. As people jostled and shoved in a frantic attempt to flee deeper into the buildings, the birds’ beaks struck down, one after another, at those unfortunate enough to be at the back of the pack.
Miyashita, too, was swept up in the wave of panic-stricken people and pushed toward the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building. While others swarmed the elevators, Miyashita unhesitatingly sprinted up the stairs.
One of the birds was slowly closing in on a crowd of people stranded in front of an elevator; the doors refused to close because the car was already packed tight, yet more people kept trying to force their way in.
Miyashita made it to an upper floor and ducked into a restroom at the end of a narrow corridor — a space too tight for the giant birds to enter — before pulling out her smartphone to call Watari’ Lab.
As she explained the situation, Watari’s voice boomed over the line.
“Ms. Miyashita! How many of them are there?”
“I don’t know. But I can say for sure — it’s not just one or two.”
The voice on the other end shifted to Toyama.
“Listen closely, Ms. Miyashita. We’ve figured out the structure of the Kelenken’s exterior. They have incredibly dense plumage and an extraordinarily thick layer of muscle and fat. Guns won’t take them down — not even machine guns.”
Miyashita turned pale and stared at the pistol in her hand.
“Dr. Toyama, then what should we do?”
“You’re on one of the upper floors of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, right? Don’t go outside. Don’t go down to the ground floor, either. Just stay put. The Self-Defense Forces are mobilizing right now.”
The 1st Infantry Regiment was immediately deployed from the Ground Self-Defense Force’s Nerima Camp. Three companies — armed with assault rifles, machine guns, and recoilless rifles — rushed to the scene, riding in a mix of armored vehicles and troop transport trucks.
However, an unexpected obstacle slowed their advance. The dense cluster of skyscrapers and poor aerial visibility made it impossible to track the Kelenkens flock’s movements from helicopters.
Furthermore, the mid- and low-rise buildings surrounding the skyscrapers created numerous blind spots.
To make matters worse, the underground shopping complexes — which the Kelenkens could easily enter and exit — along with elevated railway tracks and multi-level highway structures, provided the flock of terror birds with ample hiding places and routes for movement.
Even taking a few hits from rifle or machine-gun fire wasn’t enough to deal a fatal blow to the Kelenkens. Starving and yet to secure a meal, these birds maneuvered skillfully through the cityscape, ambushing Self-Defense Force personnel from unexpected directions and angles.
By the time the sun set and darkness fell, eight of the deployed Self-Defense Force members had lost their lives in the line of duty.
That night, the remaining four members of the Watari Lab sat in their laboratory, eyes glued to the breaking news on television, deeply worried about Miyashita, who was trapped inside the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building.
Tsutsui clenched her fists and shouted:
“Why doesn’t the Self-Defense Force use more powerful weapons? They have cannons and missiles, don’t they?”
Matsuda spoke up hesitantly:
“That’s not possible. Using heavy weaponry in such a densely built-up area would cause a catastrophe. Besides, there are still tens of thousands of people trapped inside the buildings of the Shinjuku sub-center.”
Watari furrowed his brow and asked: “So, it’s essentially like humans shields?”
Matsuda nodded.
“Self-Defense Force equipment is designed to stop invading external enemies at sea, in the air, or — at worst — along the coastline. Close-quarters combat in the heart of a major city isn’t a scenario they’re equipped for. As it stands, the Self-Defense Force isn’t capable of urban warfare.”
Toyama also spoke with a grimace:
“It’s their awkward size. If they were massive enough to tower over the buildings, we might be able to use air strikes, but with swarms of creatures standing three meters tall, close-quarters ground combat is the only option.”
Just then, the landline in the lab rang. Watari answered, sounding puzzled.
“Hello, Watari Lab. Huh? Yes, he’s here. Right, please hold a moment.”
Watari then called out to Matsuda.
“Matsuda, this is for you. They say they’re calling from the Amphibious Rapid Deployment Brigade.”
Matsuda immediately hurried over and took the receiver.
“Yes, this is Matsuda. Understood. I will report for duty immediately.”
Matsuda turned to face Watari, his expression stern.
“Professor Watari, I’ve been summoned. I am temporarily returning to active duty with the Self-Defense Force.”
“Why you? You’re supposed to nominally be on leave, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. But the order is to respond to the situation in the Shinjuku sub-center.”
Tsutsui spoke to Matsuda, her voice trembling as if she were on the verge of tears.
“Please, don’t push yourself too hard. Come back here alive!”
Matsuda snapped to attention and, holding a sharp salute, called out in a loud, clear voice:
“Second Lieutenant Kentaro Matsuda, reporting for duty!”
By the time Matsuda arrived by taxi at the Eastern Army Headquarters in Asaka, the date had already changed.
Upon entering the designated large conference room, he found about twenty Self-Defense Force personnel gathered there; some were in uniform, while others were in plainclothes.
He recognized a few of them. Noticing something, Matsuda spoke to one of the men.
“Could it be that everyone gathered here holds a drone pilot’s license?”
The man nodded slightly and replied, “It certainly looks that way. They seem to have rounded us up from various units.”
A superior officer wearing the uniform of a Lieutenant General entered the room. Matsuda and the others snapped to attention and saluted in unison.
The Lieutenant General had everyone take their seats and then invited a U.S. military officer into the room.
“We have received an offer of support from U.S. Forces Japan. Major Carter here will explain the details. Major, if you please.”
Standing at the podium, the Major began to speak in fluent Japanese.
“You are now going to learn how to operate the Switchblade. You must master it by dawn.”
As the Self-Defense Force personnel murmured in confusion, an image appeared on the screen. Someone shouted out in surprise.
“Is that a suicide drone?”
Hearing this, the Major gave a thumbs-up and thrust his fist forward.
“Exactly. To bring the situation in the Shinjuku skyscraper district under control, we need a weapon that packs a punch yet allows for precision guidance. The Switchblade was developed by the U.S. military for precision-guided attacks in urban combat. It is being provided to the Japan Self-Defense Forces as a special measure of support from the Pentagon. Since you all hold licenses to operate standard drones, you should be able to master it with just a few hours of training.”
The major grinned and continued.
“The explosive power is equivalent to a single hand grenade. We can use it without harming nearby civilians. These are known as ‘kamikaze drones.’ After all, it was you Japanese who invented the kamikaze attack.”
Dawn broke. Miyashita, who had spent the night inside the Metropolitan Government Building alongside staff members and civilians seeking refuge, roused herself from a brief doze and moved to the window to observe the scene outside.
It seemed the Kelenkens —being birds— did not remain active at night; they were sitting here and there among the city buildings.
Once hunger set in, they would likely begin prowling and running about again, pouncing on anyone lying in hiding.
A troop transport truck entered the silent streets of the Shinjuku sub-center. Tents were pitched on the far side of Shinjuku Central Park, and twenty Self-Defense Force personnel in combat gear took up their positions. Matsuda was among them.
They lined up metal tubes, each about a meter long, on the ground and pulled the levers attached to their sides. Slender, rod-like objects shot out of the tubes, soaring high into the air before unfurling four narrow, rectangular wings — two at the front and two at the back.
A propeller at the rear of the craft began to spin, sending it gliding through the air much like a radio-controlled plane.
A camera mounted on the nose of the drone transmitted a bird’s-eye view to the screens of the controllers held by Matsuda and his team.
Bathed in the morning sun, the flock of Kelenkens stirred to life. One by one, they rose and began to roam the streets in search of prey.
The acting commander issued the order to the team: “All units — commence attack!”
The Switchblades approached the Kelenkens from the sky, one by one. As instructed, they targeted the creatures’ heads.
One unit slammed into the back of a Kelenken’s head near the bus terminal. Instantly, a dull thump of an explosion rang out, followed by a plume of gray smoke.
The back of the creature’s head was blown away; blood gushed from the wound as it collapsed to the ground with a thunderous crash.
The Self-Defense Force personnel successfully guided the drones to strike the Kelenkens one after another. Some of the creatures tried to sprint away, but the Switchblades were overwhelmingly faster.
Even the Kelenkens that fled into the underground shopping mall were overtaken by the drones pursuing them inside and had their heads destroyed. Infantry regiment personnel rushed in to finish off any individuals that were still moving.
Finally, only one remained. The last Kelenken headed toward the park where Matsuda and his team had taken up their position; it seemed to have instinctively sensed the location of its enemies.
Matsuda began maneuvering the next Switchblade. Just as he was about to bring the drone down, a human figure entered his field of vision.
Startled by the sound of the drone exploding, the boy — apparently five or six years old — must have bolted outside; a woman, presumably his mother, was frantically chasing after him.
The pair was positioned right in the path of the last Kelenken as it charged forward. Matsuda raised his drone’s altitude again and shouted at the creature.
“Hey, you bird-brain! Over here! Come get me — I’ll turn you into a roast chicken!”
Hearing the shout, the lastKelenken* veered into the park. It didn’t seem to notice the mother and child right beneath it.
Seeing the Kelenken charging furiously, the other Self-Defense Force members began to retreat. Someone shouted at Matsuda:
“What are you doing? Get out of there!”
Matsuda didn’t budge; instead, he lowered the drone again. On his handheld screen, the back of the Kelenken’s head loomed larger and larger.
The Switchblade struck the back of the Kelenken’s head at point-blank range. The force of the blast blew Matsuda backward several meters.
He regained consciousness as someone shook him by the shoulders. He felt a slimy sensation running from his forehead down his cheek; he was bleeding a little, but the wound didn’t seem serious.
Suddenly remembering, Matsuda shouted to the surrounding Self-Defense Force members:
“Wait — there were a boy and his mother over there!”
The soldier holding his shoulders replied: “Another team member secured them. They’re safe — not a scratch on either of them. Good work.”
That night, in a penthouse apartment in a Roppongi high-rise, Himiko was speaking via video call with a middle-aged white man whose face appeared on the screen.
As usual, a mask concealed the area around her eyes. She spoke in fluent English.
“I appreciate what you did this time. As expected of the Deputy Secretary of Defense.”
The man replied with a laugh.
“No, the thanks should go to me. Thanks to you, I’ve got a chance to pitch drone weaponry to Japan. It’ll likely be on the agenda for the U.S.-Japan summit meeting on the sideline of the next G7.”
“Oh? I didn’t exactly intend for this to be a business deal, you know.”
“Hahaha. The image sensors for the Switchblade are made in Japan. And wasn’t Novel Renaissance a major shareholder in that manufacturer?”
“Oh, really? I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Hahaha — well, I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, I look forward to working with you again if the opportunity arises.”
“Yes … if the opportunity arises.”
She ended the call using a switch on the armrest, removed her mask, and let out a long, heavy sigh.
“Honestly … how are they supposed to defend the country with a military that can’t even handle urban warfare? They’re such a handful. The adults in this country are hopeless.”
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菊池川詠人さん、第16話読了しました😊 すごく重くて、でも引き込まれました…。3メートルのテラー・バードが新宿に放たれたシーン、もう圧巻でした。特に最後、松田さんが親子をかばって自爆型ドローンに挑むところ、心臓がぎゅーってなりました。現実の日本の防衛の隙を突いた設定と、ヒミコさんのラストの発言の冷酷さが印象的。 ただ、怖いだけじゃない、その裏側の物語もうかがえて、また深いなあと思いました。続き、ドキドキしながら待ってます！🤍
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