Vol 2 Chapter 5.2 (2/2)

I told you, didn't I? They can never co-exist. I've told you so many times, and you still don't seem to get it.

He swallowed a sigh that was halfway up his throat. The lump sank deep down into his chest again.

As Nezumi was about to lock the door, a mouse came rubbing itself against his foot.

”You're back.” He scooped it up in his hand. The mouse seemed exhausted. Its grape-coloured eyes were bleary.

”You've worked hard. Rest up.” The mouse shook its head, and spat a capsule onto Nezumi's palm. There was a light blue piece of paper inside.

”A reply, huh.” If it was, s.h.i.+on would rejoice. Today must be a lucky day for letters.

Just for an instant, a blackness flitted across his heart. A black thing. It had no form― it was only dark. Uncertainty, a bad premonition. A dull pain throbbed in the back of his head.

His ability to smell impending danger or calamity was something he had had since birth. Thanks to this ability, he had been able to escape numerous times, in some instances by a mere hair. The contents of this capsule carried a bad smell. It smelled like the first step toward something that would chase him into destruction....

He opened the capsule. The paper was scribbled with what looked like Karan's handwriting.

The pain got worse. Nezumi screwed his eyes shut, and leaned heavily against the door.

Safu― it was that girl. Why was she― wasn't she an elite? Just like s.h.i.+on... just like s.h.i.+on... which means― she was taken in place of him? The second scapegoat? But he didn't know for what reason. Why do they need a sacrifice? s.h.i.+on was framed as a murderer to cover up what the parasite wasp did. They should only need one perpetrator. So why― why did the authorities want another sacrifice? Why―

Either way, if that girl is the second sacrifice, she hasn't been taken to the Security Bureau. She's headed for the Correctional Facility. A mouse takes half a day to get back from No. 6. There's no more time. She's probably been imprisoned in the Correctional Facility already.

Why were they eliminating so easily a Gifted Curriculum student that they had measured, carefully selected, and spent considerable funds and time to raise?

Why? Why― what was going on? What are they hiding? What's about to happen?

Nezumi slowly brought himself upright.

He didn't know. It was a mystery. But now was not the time to be solving puzzles. He had an important decision to make.

What to do with this?

If he showed this scribbled note to s.h.i.+on, he would probably head right for the Correctional Facility, without even knowing what kind of place it was. He would go, with the single intention of rescuing Safu. A sheltered simpleton of a little boy like him would never be able to let a friend's death go unheeded. If he could prevent it, it was reason enough for him to go diving head-first into a nest of venomous snakes. He would willingly embark to his own death.

Or do I crush it?

It was very easy to do. This girl, Safu, had nothing to do with Nezumi. She was a stranger. It wasn't any of his business what should happen to her. He could leave things be, and it wouldn't matter. Nothing would change.

But if s.h.i.+on died, something within him would change greatly. He didn't want to see s.h.i.+on die. He would probably suffer. Not s.h.i.+on, but he― Nezumi― would suffer, from having to live and stand before s.h.i.+on's corpse. He would be experiencing the same suffering again, of being broiled alive in h.e.l.lfire.

You've gotta be kidding me. I've had enough of this already.

He didn't want to lose him. He didn't want to experience the remorse of having been the one that lived.

I don't want to lose him? I would suffer?

He was clicking his tongue in frustration.

So this was what he had come to. He almost felt like curling up on the ground.

He had rescued s.h.i.+on from the hands of the Security Bureau to return the debt that he owed him. That was it. He never wished to be attached to him. s.h.i.+on wasn't the only one― he had never wished to be attached or to share his heart with any other person. Feelings for others were even more dangerous than the light. He was not to share a connection with anyone. Whether it be with a man or a woman, he was only to develop relations.h.i.+ps that could be severed easily.

Never open your heart to anyone. Don't believe in anyone but yourself.

The last words of the old woman. He was turning against them again.

I don't want to lose him. I would suffer.

Nezumi carefully folded Karan's memo again and stuffed it inside the capsule.

He was used to loss, he was used to suffering. Wasn't he? Even if s.h.i.+on did die, perhaps he wouldn't moan in agony over his gaping loss. Even if he did, perhaps it would only be for a short while.

He would be able to use his bed and shower freely. He wouldn't have to worry about making enough soup. He wouldn't be pelted incessantly with questions, or be spoken to. He would be released from having to look up halfway through a book to lend an ear to the other's words, and to give an answer while trying to restrain his irritation.

He would go back to his normal life. That was it. He should just pa.s.s the memo, capsule and all, to s.h.i.+on, and then turn his back on him.

On a whim, Nezumi opened his door again.

Before him was his room, filled with books and spa.r.s.e furniture. The bas.e.m.e.nt chamber, surrounded by thick walls, was a nest that suited a rat like him well.

The room looked barren and dark, and larger than usual. Its coldness, darkness and vacant s.p.a.ce seeped into his bones.

That was what being attached to someone meant. He would no longer be able to live alone anymore. It was one of many artfully-set traps that lurked at every corner of his life. And to this one, he had fallen victim.

Have I still got a chance?

”Nezumi, what's wrong?” s.h.i.+on called from the top of the stairs, the entrance that led to ground-level. ”The dog's pulling at me. Hurry and come on up.” His shadowy figure floated up against the glare of noon.

Have I still got a chance? s.h.i.+on, will I still be able to live without you? After some amount of suffering, would I be able to detach myself from the trap you've become?

Would I be able to sever you?

”Nezumi?” The voice from above dropped apprehensively.

”Nothing― I'm coming.” He closed the door. He heard the dog bark. There was light. The rustle of a breeze.

Nezumi wrapped the superfibre cloth around his neck again, and ascended the stairs step by step. He kept ascending to the ground above.

-- END OF CHAPTER 5 --

Notes

Font credit to Gabriel De Ioannes Becker for Gabo 4 (Inukas.h.i.+).

Font credit to JOEBOB Graphics for Joe Hand 2 (Karan).

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