Vol 1 Chapter 4.2 (1/2)
[Novel] NO. 6 - Vol 1 Ch 4 (b)
This is a continuation of PART A.
With a hand still laid on his hair, Nezumi was checking s.h.i.+on's breathing as he slept. It was a little weak, but relaxed. It was not erratic.
―You made it through.
It was quite something. He wasn't exaggerating out of politeness or encouragement. s.h.i.+on housed a lot more vitality than his looks gave away. It was a vitality that was tenacious and strong. Nezumi gazed at s.h.i.+on's sleeping face― exhausted and weakened, but still breathing regularly nonetheless― and realized how tired he himself was as well. He was mentally, not physically, exhausted. He could neither understand nor come to terms with what he had just experienced. A sense of unease consumed his mind and made his very blood tingle.
―What's happening in there?
No. 6. Something was beginning to brew in the interiors of what they called the Holy City. Something that exceeded the depths of human imagination was being born, and developing slowly but surely. Nezumi dug into the very back of a shelf and pulled out a petri dish. It contained something he had removed from under s.h.i.+on's skin when he had cut the blister open.
―I can't believe this.
Yes, unbelievable things happened sometimes. Reality betrayed people almost too easily, and yanked people's lives at whim in unexpected directions. At times, it flung them to the depths of despair. It was cruel and violent. Absurd, even. It couldn't be trusted. Anything could happen at any time.
Nezumi knew it well. But he couldn't help being perturbed by this reality. Was it possible for something like this to happen? ―But the truth was that it had already happened. It was something that couldn't be brushed away, and he couldn't turn a blind eye to it now.
Nezumi returned to s.h.i.+on's bedside. He lightly stroked s.h.i.+on's hair again.
―When you wake up, will you be able to believe this reality?
Would he be able to handle it? Here was a boy who had been cradled and sheltered in the Holy City's core until the age of twelve. Until sixteen, he lived in Lost Town ― the outskirts of the city, but still part of it nevertheless ― and as a citizen, he was treated as such. Would someone who had been housed in such a protective sh.e.l.l be able to handle reality? Was he strong enough?
―Probably not weak enough to be crushed, though.
But he didn't know. He didn't know how much strength or weakness resided in the boy sleeping quietly before him. Whether he would withstand it, or collapse ―Nezumi didn't know. But s.h.i.+on had survived, and that was another reality. To survive, you had to sink your teeth into Life and hold fast. No matter if it was unsightly or harsh ― those who desired Life most greedily were the ones that survived. Nezumi, from experience, was painfully aware of this fact. The boy before him possessed that avarice. It was far more difficult to survive in an unsightly manner than to die a beautiful and heroic death. It also held much more value. Of this fact as well, Nezumi was painfully aware.
―You'll be alright.
Nezumi moistened s.h.i.+on's parched lips with water. Then he quietly opened the door and slipped outside. Dawn was breaking. The sky was lightening from black to purple, and a sprinkling of stars winked in the sky.
”No. 6.” Nezumi addressed the mammoth city darkly looming in the distance. ”You just wait. Some day, I'll carve out that infection of yours, and lay it out in the open.”
A streak of light shot across the sky. A flock of birds took flight. The sun was rising. Morning was coming. The West Block was still thrown in the depths of darkness, but the Holy City, bathed in the light of the rising sun, glittered as if to laugh in contempt at it. Nezumi stood still, facing the City in silence.
The streets below were br.i.m.m.i.n.g with light. He never tired of gazing out at the morning scene from this room; that was how magnificent it was.
―Exquisite.
The orderly streets, and the lush colours of the abundant trees that lined them were beautiful. It was a place of full functionality and vigour. Nowhere could one find anything wasteful or ugly. This was a product of human hands, the highest possible―
There was a chime. A monitor set into the wall flickered, and displayed the long, thin face of a man.
”I apologize for disturbing you so early in the morning.”
”No need. I've been waiting for you.”
”The investigation is complete. I would like to report the results to you directly, in person.”
”In person? That's rather cautious of you. Is there something amiss?”
”The suspect has escaped.”
”It seems so― I've heard. But surely that's not of overt importance.”
”He was involved in it. He aided in the suspect's escape.”
The man on the screen pushed his gla.s.ses up his nose. They were rimmed black, and visibly old-fas.h.i.+oned. Perhaps he was under the impression that they suited him best, because he had not changed his frames once for the past ten years.
”Are you sure of that?”
”We've confirmed it. The vocal signatures match.”
”Aiding in escape, huh... and his method?”
”I'll report all the details to you shortly.”
”Understood. I'll be waiting.”
”If you'll excuse me, then.”
The image disappeared, and the monitor faded back into the wall. The man let his gaze wander around him, then out the custom gla.s.s panels of his window to the sky that expanded beyond. It was a deep blue that pierced his eyes. The seasons were taking their course again.
―So you've come back.
What did he return for? Why did show himself again? A single petal loosened itself from the bunch of roses displayed on his desk, and fluttered silently to the floor.
―You should have stayed quietly where you were... idiot.
He crushed the crimson petal with his foot. It smeared on the lush carpet, leaving a stain that reminded him of blood.
Yamase was squatted on the floor, hugging his knees, his head bowed. He looked like a child sulking after being scolded.
”Yamase-san.” s.h.i.+on called over to him. There was no answer.
”Yamase-san, what's wrong?”
Yamase dissolved into tears.
”Yamase-san, don't cry.”
s.h.i.+on placed a hand on Yamase's shoulder. Yamase's anguished sobbing tore at his heart. It was painful just to listen to him.
”What's making you cry like this? Is there anything I can do?”
”There is.” Yamase's hand grasped s.h.i.+on's ankle.
”s.h.i.+on, I don't want to be alone. Why did you have to get saved?”
”Huh?”
”Come with me,” he pleaded. ”You will, won't you?”
”Yamase-san, what―?”
The hand grasping his ankle changed colour. It was beginning to rot. Chunks of flesh decayed and fell away from Yamase's arm. s.h.i.+on could see his bone peeking through.
”We'll go together... right?”
s.h.i.+on's ankle was being tugged harder. He was being dragged into total darkness. Yamase's arm continued to rot as it grew in length, and wound around s.h.i.+on's torso until it finally reached his neck and began to choke him.
”No―stop―”
”s.h.i.+on....”
s.h.i.+on reached out as far as he could. He felt something firm and definite, and closed his hand around it, gripping hard. And he screamed.
”No!”
s.h.i.+on awoke with a start. His throat was painfully dry.
”No, what?” Nezumi was peering into his face with a serious expression.
”Nezumi....” s.h.i.+on murmured dazedly. ”Oh... I'm alive....”
”You are. Congratulations on your safe return. And I'm sorry for ruining your moment, but can you let go of my hand? You're holding on pretty tight, and it hurts.”
He had been grasping Nezumi's hand, so strongly that his fingers were digging into his flesh. He had clung to this hand to escape from the darkness.
”Want some water?”
”Yeah,” s.h.i.+on said gratefully.
The water was cold, and quenched every corner of s.h.i.+on's body.
”I remember you giving me water like this... again and again.” Words formed slowly on s.h.i.+on's lips, and left them in awkward fragments.
”There's a spring nearby that's not too bad. It's free, so you don't need to worry.”
”You... saved me again.”
”I'm not the one that saved you. There aren't any adequate doctors or medical facilities here anyway, and even if there were, they wouldn't have done any good. No one could have saved you. You brought yourself back. You put up quite the fight. I'm a bit impressed, actually. I promise I won't call you a little boy anymore.”
”It's all... thanks to you...”
s.h.i.+on brought his hand up to his face to gaze at it. It felt somewhat dry and rough, but there were no spots or wrinkles on it. It was still the same young hand. He breathed a sigh of relief.
”I had a bad dream....” s.h.i.+on began softly. ”I wanted someone to help me, and I reached out as far as I could... and I grabbed onto your hand.”
”That frightening, huh?”
”Yamase-san was there― he told me I can't be the only one to be saved... his arm was wrapping around me, from my torso to my neck...” s.h.i.+on trailed off to feel at his neck. It was wrapped in bandages.
”From your torso to your neck?” Nezumi gave a short intake of breath. He lowered his gaze, and moved away from the bed.
”Yamase-san was never the kind of person to say that...” s.h.i.+on continued reflectively. ”He would have been happy for me, that I was saved... why would he come into my dreams and....”
”Because you feel guilty about it,” Nezumi said shortly, wrapping the superfibre cloth around his shoulders. A mouse leapt up onto one shoulder from a pile of books. ”That Yamase guy died, and you survived. You're feeling guilty over it, and that's why you're having stupid dreams like that.”
”Everything's stupid or useless to you, isn't it....”
”Whoever lives wins. Don't feel guilty about having survived. If you have time to be feeling guilty, work on living a day longer, a minute longer. And once in a while, remember the ones that died before you. That's good enough.”
”Are you saying that to me?” s.h.i.+on questioned.
”Who else could I be talking to?”
”It sounded like―” s.h.i.+on hesitated. ”Almost like you were telling it to yourself...”
Nezumi blinked. He stared at s.h.i.+on for a moment, and then muttered ”ridiculous” under his breath.
s.h.i.+on tried to lift himself up on the bed. He still couldn't move his body as well as he wanted. He noticed that his entire torso was wrapped tightly in bandages.
”Why are there so many...”