Vol 2 Chapter 1.1 (1/2)
SAt.u.r.dAY, AUGUST 6, 2011
[Novel] NO. 6 - Vol 2 Ch 1 (a)
These are English translations of the novel NO. 6 by Asano Atsuko.
CHAPTER 1
Of Life and Death
Thou livest; report me and my cause aright
- Hamlet, Act V Scene II [1]
s.h.i.+on closed the book. He could hear the sound of rain.
This underground room was cut off from most outside sounds. But for some reason, the sounds of the wind and the rain always seemed to seep through the walls.
A mouse scurried up s.h.i.+on's leg and perched on his knee. It twitched its whiskers and rubbed its front paws together as if in request.
”You want me to read this book to you?”
Cheep.
”You really like tragedies, don't you. Why don't you pick something more fun?”
The mouse looked up at him and blinked its grape-coloured eyes. s.h.i.+on adjusted himself in his chair and crossed his legs, with the mouse still on his knee.
The chair had once been quite a fine piece of furniture. It was evident from its st.u.r.dy build and the delicate patterns carved into the chair-back. But now, it was worn and old; the colour was peeling in various places, and the cus.h.i.+on had faded so much it was impossible to tell what colour it had been before. Still, it was one of the few pieces of furniture that this room had. A week ago, s.h.i.+on had dug it out from among the books that covered two-thirds of the room's floor s.p.a.ce.
”There might be an even bigger treasure hidden in these books, if you sorted them out.” s.h.i.+on had meant to sound serious, but Nezumi scoffed.
”Why don't you worry about building up some strength before thinking about stupid stuff like that? You're a little boy who's probably never had to do any physical labour since the day you were born. You're pale and skinny enough as it is.”
”I was in charge of cleaning duties at the park. I had to do physical labour all the time.”
Nezumi's shoulders hunched. His voice was tinged with contempt.
”Cleaning duties? Does cleaning count as physical labour in No. 6? All you had to do was operate the robots that did the maintenance and cleaning. What physical labour is, little boy―”
Nezumi grabbed s.h.i.+on's arm and dug his fingers in so hard that he winced. Nezumi's fingers, slender at first glance, had a surprisingly strong grip.
”―is using these arms, your legs, and putting your back into it. Using your own body. Remember that.”
Nezumi's biting and sarcastic way of speaking didn't bother s.h.i.+on much anymore after he had gotten used to it. In its harshness and cynicism, there was often a truth that he couldn't help but agree with, and oftentimes he would come away more persuaded than offended. It was true, the work that s.h.i.+on did in the Holy City of No. 6 was just to tap the keys of the control panel. He had never experienced the kind of labour that made his own body creak under its burden. He had no experience of what it was like to be damp with sweat, to have the skin of his hands blister and tear, to have his muscles ache from exhaustion; to be famished unbearably, and to fall into a comfortable slumber after a day's work.
He had never experienced it once.
”That's why I'm going to do this,” s.h.i.+on said determinedly, pointing at the mountains of books that piled high all over the room. ”I'm going to organize them, sort them out, and shelve them in order. If that's not physical labour, I don't know what is.”
”It'll take you a hundred years.”
”I'll do it in a week.”
Nezumi shrugged his shoulders again. ”As you wish,” he sighed.
”Do what you want. But stick with the books and bookshelves. Don't touch anything else.”
”You don't have much other than books and bookshelves in here.”
”Like you said, you might find some amazing treasure. To tell you the truth, even I don't know what's buried under these books.”
The mice were chattering to each other from the nooks and tiny s.p.a.ces between the books. s.h.i.+on picked up a small, light-green volume.
”Nezumi.”
”Hm?”
”How long have you been living here?”
These bare concrete walls, thousands of books, this underground room― it didn't seem well-suited to be a human dwelling.
”You didn't grow up here, did you? Where were you―”
He closed his mouth. He noticed that Nezumi's grey eyes were harbouring a steely glint.
”I'm― I'm sorry.”
Nezumi s.n.a.t.c.hed the book out of s.h.i.+on's hand and threw it aside.
”If you plan on staying here―” he wrapped his shoulders in the superfibre cloth, and gave an impatient sigh. ”Then do something about that interrogation habit of yours. I don't know how much more I can take of you nosing around every little part of my life.”
”I'm not nosing around. I just wanted to know.”
”Sniffing around and questioning people for every piece of information you want is called nosing around. Remember that too.”
s.h.i.+on felt a jab of irritation at the way Nezumi's words seemed to push him away. Indignation welled up inside him. He wasn't nosing around. He grabbed Nezumi's arm as he made to leave the room.
”I barely know anything yet. That's why I wanted to know.”
”And I'm saying that's called―”
”If it was something I could get by without knowing,” s.h.i.+on interrupted, ”I wouldn't want to know about it. But I do want to know. To me, this is something I need to know. I want to know, and that's why―ach―” He bit his tongue. He clamped a hand over his mouth and squatted on the floor in pain. Tears stung at his eyes and the pain smarted in his mouth. Nezumi burst out laughing.
”Geez, does clumsiness come naturally to you too? I never get tired of looking at you. ―You alright?”
”Somewhat. Biting your tongue is really painful.” When he had been in No. 6 ― that was from when he was born, to the age of sixteen― s.h.i.+on had never once tripped over his words enough to bite his tongue. And it was the first time, too, that he had grabbed someone's arm without thinking, out of desire to say what his heart raced to tell, his words unable to keep up with his thoughts.
”So?”
Nezumi knelt down, and peered into s.h.i.+on's face. The light in his eyes, which had the sheen of finely-woven cloth, had subsided to a gentle glow.
”What do you want to know?”
”You―” s.h.i.+on answered. ”I want to know about you.”
Nezumi's mouth fell open. He blinked several times.
”s.h.i.+on, have you been reading any strange books lately?”
”Strange?”
”Like romance novels, the kind that are cliché and over the top. You know, where a prince comes to rescue a damsel in distress, or when lovers who are torn apart overcome trials and tribulations to reunite again.”
”I don't think I've read any of those.”
”Then where the h.e.l.l did you come up with that line? 'I want to know about you',” Nezumi echoed in disbelief.
”I don't have to learn that from anywhere to say it.”
”Are you serious about what you just said?”
”Of course. Nezumi―” s.h.i.+on wiped his lips, and looked directly into his grey eyes. ”I want to know. I want to know because there are still so many things I don't know. All I know about you is that you've saved me. I don't know your real name, or how you grew up, or why you're living here alone― or what you're thinking of now, or what you're planning to do ― I have no idea. I don't know a single thing about you.”