White Devil Mountain by Hideyuki Kikuchi

heard herself use, full of surprise, fear, and despair.
    Her fingertip was damp with red. It was Lilia’s own lifeblood, trickling from the wound D’s blade had dealt her.

    II

    It was an hour later that the whole group set out. Once they’d partaken of some of the emergency rations the refuge was stocked with for humans, it only took thirty seconds to pack up the refuge. On seeing how the structure folded up into something the size of a slim music player with one press of a switch, Crey whistled.
    “That was a hell of a thing for ’em to make. Were the Nobles into mountain climbing in the snow, too? You know, because it was there? I bet they enjoyed skiing in winter.” Clutching his belly, Crey laughed. “What do you think, D? Picture it: pretty boys with fangs in black capes and women in evening dresses getting in a little night skiing. Laugh it up. C’mon! Give us a smile.”
    Naturally, D didn’t reply; he just walked on ahead of the rest.
    “Hey, wait up!” Lilia was about to chase after him when a hand reached for her shoulder, but the woman’s form spurted forward as if driven by a gust of air.
    Crey was grinning. That was probably par for the course with him. “A long time ago, I went to this island nation that’d half sunk into the sea. They had this weird phenomenon, a kind of mirage they called ‘the fleeing water.’ Just when you were about to touch it, it’d be off in the distance again. You’re ‘the fleeing woman.’ ”
    “In that case, try touching me,” Lilia said, twisting her body provocatively.
    “Maybe when you’re a little more my type,” he replied. “That reminds me—is D alive?”
    “What?” Lilia looked at the outlaw as if he’d lost his mind. Then a spiteful look rose on her face, and she replied, “Only half, I suppose.”
    “That explains it.”
    “Explains what?”
    Crey tossed his chin in the direction of the snow. “Pretty as a picture. Not a track on it.”
    There was no reply.
    Those behind him—the doctor and her protector with the burdensome boy—also looked down at the pristine snow, then turned their eyes toward D with unsettled looks on their faces.
    Did the sunlight of this fair day wish to conspire with him? Or was it that the endless silvery expanse would expel him, eternally cursed as he was? Whatever the case, no trace of the figure in black could be seen any longer.
    “Heeeeeeeeey!”
    The shout was in a man’s voice. D halted, started to turn around, and then halted again.
    “What is it?” asked the hoarse voice from the vicinity of his left hand.
    “If I turn around, my head will fly.”
    “What?”
    “I’m walking on the course.”
    “The course? Damn, I didn’t know that was there. You’ve got to get off to one side.”
    “It’s no use. Once you’re on this route, you could walk forever. We’ve got to somehow find the exit.”
    “Hmm. I hadn’t even noticed. When in the blazes did we . . .”
    “You’re useless,” D said, his tone colder than ice and snow.
    “Shit. The cold air’s dulled my senses. What’ll we do?”
    “All we can do is go on.”
    “Is their sword faster than yours?”
    “It’d be close. But if my head were cut off, I’d need to be brought back to life. Could you manage that?”
    The hoarse voice hesitated. What came next was a distressed groan. “To be honest, my eyelids are feeling pretty heavy. I’d appreciate it if you could pull through this on your own.”
    “Useless.” D’s tone was cold, but there was no blame in it. Even without his left hand and the hoarse voice, the young man could go it alone. However, the path passed by a rocky ridge. Would it lead to death before he reached it?
    “What’ll you do?” the hoarse voice asked, even hoarser than usual.
    D walked on without replying. Features gorgeous enough to shame the white snow showed no change, nor did his stride alter. It was only three more yards to the ridge. Two yards. One. Now, just a few more—
    The wind whistled behind