Vol 2 Chapter 3.2 (1/2)
[Novel] NO. 6 - Vol 2 Ch 3 (b)
This is a continuation of PART A.
”We're here.”
Nezumi's feet stopped. They were standing in front of a three-storey building. At least, it resembled more of a building than the ruins that const.i.tuted the hotel, but in the sense that it was also falling apart, they were none too different.
The arched entranceway and the red brick walls had probably once carried an air of pomp, but were now strangled by vines, crumbled in places, and radiating an aura of dilapidation. Nezumi jerked his chin upwards.
”Someone's home.”
There was a light in the third-floor centre window. From its brightness, it was most likely an electric lamp. That meant there was electricity running in this building.
They pushed the wooden doors open, and entered inside. There were no signs of people on the first or second floors. The stairs, which were also wooden, creaked loudly with each step they took.
If Inukas.h.i.+'s tip was a good one, a former reporter from the Latch Bill newspaper was supposed to be living here.
They climbed up to the third floor. There was light spilling out from a crack of the open door into the wooden hallway, which was carpeted with a thick layer of dust. In the pool of light, there were several empty gla.s.s bottles. It was easy to tell what these bottles used to hold. s.h.i.+on didn't have to pick one up to check, for the strong smell of alcohol filled the air around them. In a darkened corner of the hallway, there were towering piles of bundled papers, and empty cans littered about it. Only the door from which the light was spilling was neither dirty nor broken, though it was very old. s.h.i.+on raised his hand to knock, but Nezumi held him back.
”What's wrong?”
”No, it's just― the air is strange.”
”Air? What do you―”
Before s.h.i.+on could finish his sentence, he heard a yell from inside the room. It belonged to a man. There was the sound of furniture being knocked over. A high-pitched voice screaming angrily. He could hear the sound of gla.s.s being smashed.
”Sounds serious. What now, s.h.i.+on?”
”What do you mean, what now?”
”It looks like they're busy at the moment. Should we come back another day?”
”As if.”
”Thought so.”
There was a loud noise again. A man's deep voice yelled out for help. s.h.i.+on tried to burst into the room, but Nezumi restrained him and opened the door.
The room was well-lit by a large lamp. It was the brightest light s.h.i.+on had seen since coming to the West Block. The light was illuminating clearly every corner of the room. By the window there was a large desk, and against the wall was a rather unimpressive textile sofa. The floor was covered, again, with bundles of paper and books that were piled up or scattered haphazardly. But these were all things he had noticed when he had taken a good look around the room much later on. What s.h.i.+on saw immediately over Nezumi's shoulder were two people entangled with each other. It was a man and a woman. The man was wearing pants, but his upper body was naked. The woman was clad all in black. Her hair, cut straight across at the shoulders, was also black. She was straddling the man. The hem of her slitted skirt had flipped up to reveal her thigh. She had well-endowed, curvy body. She had a round face, round nose and round eyes. Her face was tense.
The woman swung her right hand up.
”Help!” The man yelled. s.h.i.+on realized that there was a knife in the woman's hand. Nezumi tsked his tongue shortly.
”You good-for-nothing!” The woman shouted. Nezumi moved at the same time. Soundlessly and in a flash, he was holding the woman's wrist mid-swing. Without a word, he twisted it.
The knife clattered to the floor. s.h.i.+on hastily picked it up. He spotted a red knife pouch in the corner of his vision. He grabbed it reflexively, and sheathed the blade. He felt relieved.
”What the h.e.l.l are you doing?” The woman screeched shrilly. She had fallen backwards on her bottom from being dragged by Nezumi.
”I don't think you should be swinging around a toy like this, Miss. It's dangerous,” Nezumi said softly.
”Leave me alone. What's any of this got to do with you? This good-for-nothing, s.h.i.+tbag of a womanizer deserves to die.”
The woman dissolved into tears on the floor. Still holding the knife, s.h.i.+on looked down at her hunched back. He didn't know what to do. There was nothing in s.h.i.+on's manual that told him how to deal with this kind of situation. Nezumi knelt down, and gently stroked her back as it shook with her sobs. He lowered his voice into a quiet murmur.
”Don't cry. No― you should cry. Cry to your heart's content. You'll feel better that way. Go on, cry―”
It was like a lullaby. His whisper was deep and soothing, and soaked into s.h.i.+on's soul like the sound of the rain that seeped into the bas.e.m.e.nt room. He could see the woman's agitation subside as its gentleness and tranquility washed over her. But there was no gentleness or tranquility in Nezumi's gaze. After taking a quick glance around the room, his gaze stopped at the middle-aged man who was gasping, half-naked on the floor. Then his eyes flicked up to s.h.i.+on, who was stock-still, rooted to the spot. s.h.i.+on took a step forward.
”Um― are you Rikiga-san? The one who used to work for the Latch Bill newspaper?”
The man raised himself unsteadily and began to put his arms through a s.h.i.+rt that had been draped over the sofa. Though not exactly obese, he was rather fleshy around the shoulders and waist. There was a white scar that ran diagonally across under his right shoulder blade.
”Uh― have we gotten the wrong person?” s.h.i.+on asked uncertainly. ”We've come here today because we heard we could meet a Rikiga-san here―”
”You've got the right one.”
It was the woman who had answered. Her face was a sopping mess of tears, sweat and snot, but she was not crying anymore.
”This good-for-nothing liar goes by that name. Once upon a time he was a newspaper reporter, but now this s.h.i.+tty excuse for a man is reduced to making s.h.i.+tty p.o.r.no magazines to pay for his liquor habit.”
”And who's the one who had a hysteric fit when she got dumped by said excuse for a man, huh?” retorted the man who had been called Rikiga.
”What're you talking about?” the woman shot back. ”You're the one who said you wanted to get married!”
”And I'm telling you, issues have come up, and I can't get married to you anymore.”
”What issues?”
”Well― ah, um― you see...”
”If you're gonna try to trick me, at least take the time to think up a proper lie. I'm not one to be messed with.”
Sparked to anger by her own words, the woman's wrath threatened to boil over again. She suddenly lunged a s.h.i.+on, breathing fast.
”Give me my knife back!”
”No―I can't do that―” s.h.i.+on resisted. ”Stop, please. It's dangerous.”
”I said give the d.a.m.n thing back. What 'issues', huh? Let's hear your excuse. I can't believe I'm being s.h.i.+tted like this. I'm gonna kill you.”
”Stop, watch it―”
Nezumi stood up. With one step, he strode to Rikiga's side and put a hand on his shoulder.
”Father, is she going to be our new mother from now on?”
The woman froze. Her mouth gaped open, and her eyelid twitched.
”Father?”
Nezumi nodded with an affectionate smile.
”Yes. We're his sons.”
”You― you had kids? I've never heard anything about that before.”
The woman's voice turned hoa.r.s.e. Rikiga blinked.
”Father and Mother separated a long time ago,” Nezumi explained. ”But Mother pa.s.sed away just last month, and so we came back to live with Father. We've already heard before that Father has someone he loves. But he said he would give up getting married so that we could live together as a family again, the three of us. Right, s.h.i.+on-niisan?”
”Huh?”
”We came all the way here searching for Father, right?”
”What? Oh― yes, we have. We're his sons. Nice to meet you.”
Rikiga cleared his throat a few times.
”―That's how it is. They're my sons. I've had to take them into my care now... raise these two on my own. Living will become much more difficult. I couldn't put you through that, honey. I love you, I love you so much. But these kids need their father... I couldn't burden you by asking you to be their mother. I had no choice but to ask you to break up with me.”
”So that was what came up...”
”Well― pretty much.”
The woman ran a hand through her hair, and sighed. ”So that's how it is.”
”That's how it is.”
The woman ran a hand through her hair again, and picked up her coat and purse, which were lying on the floor. She looked at s.h.i.+on, and drew her chin back slightly.
”You have strange hair. Is it a wig?”
”Oh, um― stuff happened...”
”More issues? Like father like son, you guys must love your issues. Oh well, fine. If that's what's going on, I'll break up with you. As if I would want a middle-aged man with kids anyway.”
The woman gave an energetic wave of her hand.
”Good-bye, then. It was fun while it lasted.”
The door closed. s.h.i.+on let the knife in his hand drop to the floor. His palms were sweaty from nerves.
Rikiga lifted the chair and placed it upright on the floor, and began to gather the pieces of broken gla.s.s. There had probably been some kind of drink in it, for its contents had made a stain on the carpet that emitted such an overpowering smell of alcohol that it made s.h.i.+on feel ill.
”Good G.o.d, she certainly let herself go,” grumbled Rikiga. ”It was fun while it lasted, huh? Putting on a cool face at the last minute. Geez.”
Rikiga looked alternately at s.h.i.+on and Nezumi, and grinned.
”You saved me from the gallows. First, let me give you my thanks.”
He had strong, broad shoulders and considerable height. The bridge of his nose was high, and it suited his moustache well. His face was neither handsome nor ugly. It was a face that was both energetic with optimism and worn with hards.h.i.+p; it was a face of cunning, and steely, resilient willpower.
”Your acting could have been better, though. Especially for a star of the show like you, Eve.”
Nezumi scooped the knife off the floor and smiled thinly.
”You know about me?”
”I'm your fan. I went to see your show last week.”
”That's nice to hear, but I didn't appear in any shows last week.”
”Really? Well, anyway, we wanted to do a special feature in our magazine about you. We asked your manager to get an interview with you, but he turned us down.”
”He probably would, for a magazine like this.” Nezumi's fingers flipped casually through the pages. The cover was a photo of a naked woman. On the whole, she was rather blurry. All the other pages were somewhat similar. Naked women, half-naked men. Lewdness and provocation overflowed in the flimsily-bound pages of the magazine.
”It's the go-to for young people,” Rikiga said. ”Teaches them everything from birth control to picking up women.”
”You should do a feature about the right way to dump a woman next, old man.”
Nezumi tossed the magazine aside. Rikiga raised his hands in an exaggerated gesture.
”Ouch Eve, that was pretty harsh. I thought you'd be more of a pansy.”
”Nice to hear that coming from someone who was pinned on the floor by a woman just a minute ago.”
”I was drunk, alright? And she suddenly just jumped at me― but I never would've guessed that she had a knife on her. Scary things, those women.”
s.h.i.+on took half a step forward.
”Eve... is that your real name, Nezumi?”
”No way. It's just for work.”
”Your work... so you're a stage actor.”
”Nothing half as cla.s.sy as that. Maybe a couple steps above this magazine.”
”But― oh,” s.h.i.+on murmured in realization. ”So that's why you speak and move so gracefully.”
A spotlight s.h.i.+nes on a dark stage, illuminating a single actor as he floats up out of the darkness. Captivating the eyes, ears, and souls of all who watch, his voice rings out― at times, with a soaring, elegant air; at times, with a pained tremor like a wind that whistles low to the ground.
Nezumi snorted.
”What're you imagining, s.h.i.+on? We're talking about a playhouse here, in the West Block. People who've got a little spare cash to spend come out to forget their worries for a little while. We haven't got any embroidered drop curtains, decent costumes, or stage props. It's mostly impromptu song or dance. That's it.”
”But it still makes people forget their worries, right?”
”Huh?”
s.h.i.+on was gazing unblinkingly at Nezumi. In these past few hours, he had experienced almost as much as― no― perhaps even more than what he had seen and heard his entire life. Of course, this was still only just a glimpse. But he had caught a glimpse of how harsh and brutal it was just to live a day, an hour, even a moment, in this world. If these people, in their brief moment of respite, chose to go to this place of their own free will, and that was where Nezumi was, then he thought it was amazing. It neither filled their bellies, nor quenched their thirst. But people still yearned for this crude stage and the tales told on it, and immersed in them, they forgot their melancholy. They clapped, wept, laughed, and bustled with noise. There was no way of telling when death might come sweeping down upon them. But in this moment, they could still live and enjoy life. They could live and enjoy life all the more because of it.
”I think it's amazing, Nezumi.”
Nezumi sighed, caught himself hastily, and grimaced.
”Knock it off. It's not as rosy as you make it out to be. You've probably never even seen a stage.”
”You're right― In No. 6, students weren't allowed to watch plays.”
”I would've thought so. Especially for top-rankers like you, Mr. Elite. Everything you watched or read would be strictly limited― though you probably never even realized it was being withheld from you.”
”No. 6?”
Rikiga stopped mid-gesture as he was bringing a cigarette to his lips. ”Hey, wait a minute. Are you saying this wig-boy is from No. 6? You gotta be kidding me.”
”This is no joke, old man. And he isn't wearing a wig.”
”Then is it some kind of new hat? Is that what's popular in fas.h.i.+on these days?”
”No, it's my real hair,” s.h.i.+on answered. ”Just― a lot of things have happened due to― uh, issues.”
”Oh?” Rikiga said. ”There's nothing I love more than issues. If you've really tumbled out of No. 6, you must have issues like no other. I want to hear your story. And the reason behind that hair.”
Nezumi hoisted himself up on the desk, and let his legs dangle.
”Does it smell, old man?”
”What?”
”Your nose twitched. Did you sniff out an interesting scoop, or what?”
Rikiga clapped a hand to his nose. Nezumi continued laughing softly.
”It's the same nose wild dogs make when they smell food. It twitched, then your nostrils flared.”
Rikiga's brow furrowed, and an expression of clear distaste spread over his features.
”I've mentioned this before, Eve. I think I've had misconceptions about you. I thought you'd be more gentle and refined. I would never have imagined such a rude and brash kid. I'm disappointed, frankly.”
”I thought you were my fan?”
”You can count me out from now on. Good G.o.d, I don't know what you enjoy so much about taunting adults like this.”
”Karan,” Nezumi spoke quietly. Rikiga froze. ”Do you know a woman that goes by that name?”
Rikiga's body, beginning to show the signs of middle-aged weight gain, teetered dangerously. His throat contracted as he swallowed.
”You know Karan...? Are you acquaintances with her?”
”She's my mother.”
Rikiga appeared not to understand s.h.i.+on's words immediately. He sucked in a deep breath.
”Mother?”
”I'm― oh, my name is s.h.i.+on. I'm Karan's son.”
”Son... Karan's son, huh... who's the father?”
”I couldn't say.”
”You couldn't― don't you know who he is? Is he deceased?”
”No― I've heard from my mother that they separated shortly after I was born. It's just been the two of us all my life. I've never met my father.”
Nezumi continued to laugh.
”Are you telling me there's a possibility he might be your son?”
”No― that can't be― wait a minute, er, what was your name again?”
”s.h.i.+on.”
”s.h.i.+on― aster, huh. Karan did like that flower a lot. Uh― s.h.i.+on, will you hold on for a minute? I'll get you a drink― ah, I mean, a non-alcoholic one, of course... what would you like? I have everything. Oh yes, here― let's move somewhere more comfortable where we can talk.”
Rikiga knocked the wall behind the sofa, and pressed his right hand on it. The wall soundlessly slid to the side.
”Wow,” Nezumi whistled. ”Fingerprint recognition? You've got fancy gimmicks on this place. Guess it's not as shabby as it looks.”
Beyond the wall appeared a rather extravagant room. The floor was lined with a luxurious carpet, and there were leather chairs, a leather sofa, and a table. There was a fire burning in the fireplace set into the wall.
”Come in, this way. I'll pour some coffee. Are you hungry? I have some excellent pie.”
s.h.i.+on had forgotten that he was starving. His empty stomach ached.
”What kind of pie?” Nezumi said. ”I prefer meat.”
”You can shut up.” Rikiga waved his hand irritably at Nezumi.
”You're horrible, treating us so differently like that.”
Rikiga ignored him and disappeared into a small adjacent room. The aroma of coffee soon wafted over to them.
”Coffee and pie, huh. I don't believe it.” s.h.i.+on had barely tasted any such savoury foods since escaping from No. 6. Nezumi let his gaze wander about the room.
”You're right. They're luxury items, for sure. And seeing how this room is outfitted... it looks like Inukas.h.i.+'s information was spot-on after all.”
”If that's the case...” s.h.i.+on said pensively. ”No, that can't be...”
”What can't be?”