—The shooting range. Located next to the cafeteria, the room was vast. There were ten wide shooting lanes, and the distance to the back felt like it was probably over a hundred meters. I was surprised there was this much space so deep underground.
“They’re at it again today.”
Director Hardy was already here at the training ground. The gunfire was clearly different from that of a standard handgun. In the adjacent lane, a man holding a gun in the same manner was firing continuously.
“Whoa, looks like they won’t be finishing anytime soon.”
Tremendous gunshots echoed continuously. The guns being fired by the Director and the man next to her were probably the same model. It wasn’t the sound of standard 9mm Parabellum rounds being fired. Both of them swiftly swapped magazines at almost exactly the same time and resumed firing.
Mr. Hayama spread his arms, striking an exasperated pose. He seemed to say something, but the gunfire was so intense that I couldn’t make out his words. Chris, smiling wryly, handed me a pair of earmuffs.
(Wow, I can barely hear the gunshots…)
When I put the earmuffs on, the sound of gunfire alone was masked to an astonishing degree.
“They’re the latest electronic earmuffs! You can change the noise-cancellation level with the dial on the right side. The dial on the left side adjusts the communication volume, so you can adjust them to your preferred settings.”
The earmuffs themselves seemed to have built-in microphones; Chris’s voice came directly through the earpieces.
“Once these two start competing, it takes forever for them to finish. Good grief, using up those expensive .50 AE rounds so generously…”
Mr. Hayama grumbled in an exasperated tone. If it was .50 AE ammo, the guns they were using were probably Desert Eagle .50 AEs. They swapped out the magazines lined up on the lane counters one after another, firing in rapid succession. Looking closely, I saw some sort of data displayed on a monitor on the wall behind the lanes. The numbers changed in sync with the gunshots. Were they being automatically scored?
(—I knew it, it’s Kamikura!)
The names of Director Hardy and Kamikura were displayed on the wall monitor. Their scores were nearly tied, though the Director seemed to have a slight lead. The scores accumulated with every gunshot.
(Kamikura! Do your best!)
Then, perhaps having emptied their final magazines, their gunfire ceased at almost the exact same moment.
“So close! Just three more points and it would have been a tie with the Director!”
The score was 1400 to 1397. It was likely a match to see how quickly and accurately they could fire using twenty 7-round magazines. Assuming a precise critical hit was worth 10 points, the Director was perfect. Kamikura must have had shots that strayed ever so slightly. To achieve such scores with magnum rounds that carry heavy recoil meant both possessed tremendous concentration and shooting accuracy.
“—I’m sorry. Did I keep you waiting?”
Perhaps basking in the afterglow of victory, Director Hardy smiled pleasantly. Kamikura was acting cool, but he looked frustrated.
“…It’s been a while, Himemiya.”
He grew taller again… That was probably just my imagination, but standing at 184 centimeters, he certainly looked large. However, he felt a bit thinner than he had a year and a half ago. Having miraculously recovered from a critical injury, his muscle mass likely hadn’t fully returned yet. His cheeks seemed slightly hollow as well.
Yet, what was it… His entire atmosphere felt completely different… What was this unapproachable aura…?
“Now then, let’s begin the shooting training—”
The Director’s words seemed to cut off any further exchange of words with Kamikura. We took our positions at the lanes and readied our guns. I was handed an M17. The matte grey color probably meant it was slightly different from standard specifications. This was the same gun I used in the FBI. Ten 17-round magazines were placed on the counter. Like the match between the Director and Kamikura just now, it seemed to be a drill on how quickly and accurately we could shoot. I had gone through more than enough firearms training at the FBI Academy. The targets were set for 50 meters. Humanoid holograms were projected from what looked like upper and lower projection devices at the back of the lanes, and the system seemed to score based on where the bullets passed through.
“Begin!”
At the Director’s signal, everyone started firing simultaneously. What I immediately felt was the lag in my firing intervals compared to the others. I was slightly slower. That slight delay gradually grew into a massive gap.
(—They’re all so fast!)
I emptied the magazine in the blink of an eye and quickly swapped it out. But my magazine changes were clearly the only ones lagging behind. As I gradually became conscious of my delay, it turned into impatience. Perhaps I was putting unnecessary tension into my grip; I couldn’t subtly control the recoil.
—It was over. I was the last one to finish firing all my magazines. Kamikura’s shooting was clearly a cut above the rest in speed. Mr. Hayama and Chris were also much faster than I expected. It wasn’t that I was underestimating them, but being shown such a gap in ability left me dumbfounded.
Looking at the monitor behind the lanes, our respective scores were displayed. Kamikura had a perfect score of 1700. Mr. Hayama scored 1586. Chris scored 1511.
(And I got 1381…)
“Alright, let’s start the second set.”
The shooting training continued after that. One set was 170 rounds. We did 10 sets of that. After that, we switched to HK416 assault rifles, using ten 30-round magazines per set. Like the handguns, we did 10 sets. We fired those on full-auto. The theoretical upper limit score for one set with the assault rifle was 3000 points.
—The results were disastrous. By the time I had emptied all the handgun rounds, my hands were already incredibly sore, and my sense of touch felt strange. I couldn’t put strength into my hands gripping the weapon. Shooting with appropriate intervals was completely different from rapid-firing as fast as possible.
Under such conditions, there was no way I could shoot an assault rifle properly. I tried to use my body to suppress the full-auto recoil, but the barrel inevitably wavered. As the sets went on, fatigue accumulated and everyone’s scores dropped, but Kamikura consistently maintained over 2800 points, and Mr. Hayama kept his above 2400. Chris’s score dropped significantly towards the end due to fatigue, but she still maintained over 2100 points.
“—Shooting training concluded. Hayama, I’d like you to push a bit harder. Chris, you lack stamina, so put more effort into it. And Himemiya—”
After a pause, Director Hardy spoke.
“At your current level, you’re going to die. For starters, your magazine swaps are fatally slow. If your accuracy drops significantly due to fatigue, why don’t you widen your firing intervals and aim more carefully? That’s why you get a score like this.”
(…The Director is right. I was just desperately trying to keep up with everyone else’s pace…)
From the 7th set of handguns onward, my score had started dropping sharply, resulting in 872 points in the final set. The assault rifle was ten 30-round magazines, meaning 300 rounds per set. The theoretical upper limit was 3000 points, but being fully automatic, it swayed more easily than a handgun. It was no excuse, but I couldn’t even reach 2000 points in the very first set. From the 1800s, my accuracy fell with each subsequent set, ending in a dismal 752 points in the final set…
“Himemiya, you lack the basics. Focus and aim first. Speed comes second. After taking a proper break, get back to training. Kamikura, I’m putting you in charge of instructing Himemiya on her shooting.”
“—Understood.”
—I returned to the cafeteria for a break. I wanted to regain the feeling in my hands, even just a little. I bought an iced lemon tea from the vending machine and sat at a table. Mr. Hayama and Chris had returned to their posts since they had their own work to do.
(I’m no good… I need to stay more calm…)
The shooting training score was one thing, but more than anything, I couldn’t forgive myself for losing my cool
. If I had been able to shoot at my own pace, just as the Director said, I wouldn’t have gotten such a score.
(Thinking about it now, ever since Kamikura disappeared, I hadn’t been able to focus on work, and I hadn’t done much shooting practice either…)
I keenly felt my own inexperience. While part of it was that I looked up to Kamikura, the reason I joined the NYPD and the FBI was because I wanted to protect the country and prevent heinous crimes. I wanted to make the world a place where many people could live safe social lives. It was because I had those thoughts.
The simultaneous terrorist attacks I experienced when I was young. Such an incident must never be allowed to happen again.
But what about the me right now?
Looking from the outside, do I look like I’m proudly fulfilling those duties…?
I gulped down about half of the cold iced lemon tea. I was thirsty, and I was sweating.
Just as the Director said, my current level is out of the question… I need to train more.
I had been worried about Kamikura all this time, but I could see that he was recovering well and was the same as ever
. There were mountains of things I wanted to ask him, but even if I did, he probably wouldn’t answer—no, he couldn’t
. After being transferred from the FBI to a certain agency, Kamikura had likely suffered a critical injury in some major incident. That agency, what happened there, and that place itself must be highly classified.
I think I know Kamikura’s personality well. He is absolutely not the kind of person to talk about such things to an outsider.
It seems I would need to move on my own to investigate what happened, but the duties of the UCIA are also highly classified and dangerous. I strongly feel that CODE:AW is closely connected to Kamikura.
Right now, all I can do is everything in my power and focus on my duties at the UCIA. What happened to Kamikura should naturally become clear…
With that thought, I finished off the rest of my iced lemon tea.
—Back at the shooting range. I calmed my mind and gripped the M17. The reason the Director was making us do this much shooting training was probably because the UCIA’s missions were extremely dangerous. A handgun was one thing, but making us do full-auto shooting with an assault rifle that many times was inconceivable for a single investigative agency. The total round count for one set was 300. Ten sets of that. I had never even heard of being made to continuously fire 3000 rounds in a single training session. The US military special forces probably used a considerable amount of live ammunition, but I couldn’t help but wonder if this was comparable to that.
(I… won’t lose!)
I pulled the trigger. A dry gunshot echoed. I aimed precisely for each and every shot, pulling the trigger.
Looking closely, there was a small monitor for the shooter installed on the counter in the lane. Before I knew it, my data was displayed, and the shooting data from earlier was clearly recorded.While checking my accuracy rate, I repeated my shots, one after another.
(!?)
Before I realized it, Kamikura was right behind me. I was caught by surprise.
“Hey, don’t just stand behind me all of a sudden!”
“I called out to you. You’re the one who didn’t notice.”
With an unsociable expression, Kamikura seemed to have been observing my shooting. Perhaps because I was so focused on shooting, I hadn’t realized at all that he had called out to me.
“W-Wait…”
Suddenly, Kamikura reached his arm around my right shoulder. His unexpected action threw me into a panic.
“Listen here. You think you’re controlling the recoil, but you’re not. Right before you shoot, and the moment you shoot, the muzzle is rising too much. Because you take too long to correct it, your next shot is delayed, and your accuracy drops.”
Kamikura placed his left hand over both of my hands holding the gun. Even through my blouse, I could feel his body heat on my back. His deep voice echoed in my heart as if whispering right in my ear.
(—Wait, why is my heart pounding so fast! This isn’t fair, Kamikura!)
I could feel my heart rate spiking rapidly. In all our past experiences, I don’t think our skin had ever touched at such a close distance before.
“I’ll hold the gun down from above with my left hand. You just aim as is and pull the trigger.”
Kamikura’s left hand touched mine. His fingers seemed longer than I thought, and his hand was large. His left hand, wrapping around mine with strength, and our sheer proximity were making my heart race.
Amidst an indescribable feeling of embarrassment, I aimed desperately and pulled the trigger.
A critical hit on the target. To my surprise, the barrel didn’t waver at all.
(Kamikura’s left hand is completely suppressing the recoil…)
“Keep shooting until the magazine is empty.”
I pulled the trigger again and again. The barrel remained completely steady. The bullets landed critical hits one after another, and the magazine was empty in the blink of an eye.
“Do you understand what you’re lacking? —Keep devoting yourself to it.”
Kamikura handed the M17 back to me.
“—Thank you.”
It all happened in a flash, but what I lacked was mainly the holding power of my left hand. I hadn’t realized that the muzzle was rising unconsciously. I wanted to thank him with an honest heart.
“—Himemiya.”
Kamikura spoke quietly.
“—What?”
“—If you came to the UCIA because you were worried about me, go back home tomorrow. —This is not a place where you belong.”
“…………”
Kamikura said that quietly. His sudden words caused my thoughts to freeze for a moment. His expression and tone of voice
. I couldn’t tell if those words were out of concern for my safety, or if he was just saying I was a burden.
However, an emotion boiled up inside me. It was an anger with nowhere to go.
“…Don’t screw with me. Just how many times do you think I’ve saved your life up until now? Disappearing all of a sudden without saying a word to anyone… Of course it’s natural to be worried when I couldn’t even contact you!”
My true feelings spilled out before I could stop them. Kamikura has his own circumstances that he can’t speak of. I know that, but I couldn’t suppress the feelings welling up inside me.
“…It’s true that I am grateful for the many times your ‘Intuition’ has saved me in the past. However—”
After taking a breath, Kamikura said.
“You’re a burden. I don’t want to lose anything anymore…”
(…………)
I couldn’t say anything back… At the UCIA, both the Director and Mr. Hayama are former Navy SEALs. Chris is also a former information specialist for the Space Force. Given the scale of the facility, it’s likely under the jurisdiction of the Pentagon. However, there was no way I could just shed tears and say “goodbye” like this. From the NYPD to the FBI Academy, I had made blood-curdling efforts. I had cried many times, crawling on my hands and knees to get this far.
“…I won’t lose. Not to you, and not to my duties. I won’t let you call me a burden!”
It was the best bluff I could muster. Tears naturally blurred my vision…
—A brief silence descended. With my eyes blurred by tears, I couldn’t move, just staring at Kamikura. After looking at each other for a while, Kamikura looked away.
“…Suit yourself.”
Leaving those words behind, Kamikura quietly walked out of the shooting range…
(…Don’t screw with me. You don’t even know how I feel…)
Alone in the shooting range. The sound of gunfire, like screams of bitter grief, echoed in my ears over and over again…