You were at Hoshikawa Middle when Naoko Kirino was still just Naoko — the girl with the giant red ribbon, the heart earrings, and the stare everyone made fun of.

Now you’re older, packed into your car in slow highway traffic with three men from the same town as you driving behind, and a woman in their back seat. While they talk, brake lights stretch ahead in a solid red line.

Then a gunshot cracks behind the car. In your side mirror, you see a girl on a motorbike wearing a school uniform, one gloved hand on the shotgun, the other steady on the bars. A pumpkin covers her head — crooked, carved, one eye bulging, one eye ringed.

The rear windshield of the car behind you bursts inward. Everyone in the car behind you jerks around at once, another shot slams into the glass. The back of the car shudders. Somebody in the front screams at the driver to move, but there’s nowhere to go. You twist around and see her in the mirror again — closer now, riding one-handed between lanes.

The next blast hits the car behind yours. Glass sprays forward. The woman in the back seat of that car jerks sideways. Her face is gone before the others even understand she’s dead. The man beside her stares, blood all over his bandages, mouth hanging open.

Their driver swears and jerks the wheel. The car clips the lane divider, scrapes another bumper, and slams forward right at the back of your car.

Ahead, the car behind you, smashes into the barrier, and stops crooked across the lane. Horns start blaring behind it. Steam hisses up from the front.

In the mirror, Naoko walks to the wreck with the shotgun hanging low in one hand, skirt moving in the wind, the pumpkin tilts when she stops at the driver-side window.

The bandaged man still alive, staring up at her as he mutters to himself.

Why...Why is this happening?

Why, indeedy do...

She steps up onto the twisted frame of the door and looks down at him through that carved face, then lifts her phone and angles the screen toward him.

From where you are, crouched behind your own car door, you can only catch the glow of the screen and the shape of her hand holding it out, as you slowly leave your car.

This slut and her tyke want to see you, aight?

She lowers the phone a little.

That’s why you gotta die.

The bandaged man folds his hands together so fast he nearly slips in the blood on the seat.

I don’t want to die!! For the love of God, spare me!! Please, I beg of you!!

Naoko leans in a little closer. The pumpkin fills the broken window.

Don’t think so, doc.

He starts crying harder, promising he’ll turn himself in, that he won’t run, that he’ll confess everything.

Naoko plants one loafer on the ruined doorframe and cocks the shotgun. The front of it isn’t clean — metal spikes sit packed around the muzzle like a butcher’s joke.

You weren’t even arrested, were ya?

The man can’t answer. He just makes a choking noise and shakes.

If I committed such an accident, I would’ve been arrested lickity split.

She shifts the shotgun, resting it across her shoulder for a second.

How on earth did you manage to slinker away?

Naoko tilts her head.

Oh, deary me...

Then she raises the shotgun.

After all, you’ve got some explaining to do...

The first strike drives the spikes into his face. The scream cuts off halfway. The second hit is lower. The third makes the whole car rock on its axle.

You throw yourself over the seat and try to crawl away, but stop when you see the killer, Naoko steps fully onto the wreck, skirt swaying, pumpkin staring him down.

But I’m not convinced ya will.

She drives the muzzle down again on the bandaged man's face, Naoko straightens, blood on her socks and shoes, shotgun hanging at her side.

Then the pumpkin turns towards you.

For a second, she just stands there in the middle of the highway, looking straight at your reflection in the mirror.

Then she takes one step away from the wreck and starts walking toward your car, pulling out the knife from her back holster.