Vol 3 Chapter 4 (2/2)
”He came to get me,” s.h.i.+on said. ”I thought something might've happened to you.”
”So you came to help. With one lamp.”
”Yeah.” s.h.i.+on brought the lamp closer to Nezumi's wound, and furrowed his brow.
”We have to get this treated. Let's go home. Can you walk?”
”Of course.”
s.h.i.+on's slipped a hand under Nezumi's armpit, as if to support him. Nezumi brushed him away, and began to walk ahead. His shoulder throbbed painfully. But he wasn't about to cling onto the hand that was extended to him. If he learned to lean on someone, he would never be able to walk on his own again. The helping hand was always fickle, and disappeared just as suddenly as it was offered. That was how things were.
Once they returned to their underground room, s.h.i.+on sprang into action, briskly taking the appropriate steps. He checked the wound, cleaned, and disinfected it.
”You gonna sew it up again?”
”The wound isn't that bad this time, unfortunately,” s.h.i.+on said, in a rare rueful grin as he closed the emergency kit. ”Freaked out a bit, didn't you, Nezumi? Thought you'd go through the same thing as four years ago?”
”'A bit' is an overstatement. With you, I feel like I'd end up with st.i.tches for a bug bite.”
”How rude,” s.h.i.+on smiled. ”I still think the treatment I gave you four years ago was the appropriate thing to do.”
Four years ago, on that stormy night ― yes, on the night he had first met s.h.i.+on ― No. 6 had been in the midst of a hurricane. He still remembered, ever so vividly, the window flung open as if to invite him in; twelve-year-old s.h.i.+on as he poked his face out; You're hurt, aren't you? I'll treat your wound' ― words that he had never expected; the satisfied smile that had spread over s.h.i.+on's face the moment he had completed the suture; the sweetness of the cocoa; the delicious taste of the cherry cake; the comfort of the bed; the sound of quiet, slumbering breaths right beside him as he awoke the next morning ― he couldn't forget any of it, no matter how hard he tried. Even when he tried to discard it, he could never quite bring himself to.
Each and every miraculous occurrence of that night still remained with him as tangible sensations, never fading in the least over the four years until now.
Did people call them memories? A mental record? Or did they call it fate?
It was easy enough to laugh at people, calling them indulgent and weak, when they accepted others unconditionally and tried to save them. Indeed, as a result of taking Nezumi in, s.h.i.+on had lost almost all of his privileges and fortune.
How much easier things would have been if he was able to dismiss s.h.i.+on with a condescending laugh, this naive boy, this petri-dish elite who had grown up oblivious to society. But it was too bitter to laugh at and be done with. It was too vivid to forget. And to throw away, it was much too heavy.
”s.h.i.+on.”
”Hm?”
”Do you really think so?”
s.h.i.+on's hands stopped in the middle of winding a bandage.
”Four years ago. Do you really think it was the appropriate thing to do?”
”Well, we were in pretty limited surroundings,” s.h.i.+on said slowly. ”Back then, though, that would have been the most I could do. Now, maybe I would be able to sew it up a bit better.” The long fingers of his deft-looking hands moved as nimbly as they looked, winding the bandage tightly and neatly.
”Not just about my injury. About the whole night.”
After he had knotted the ends of the bandage with care, s.h.i.+on studied Nezumi's eyes.
”Your life turned 180 degrees that night. Can you still say, even now, that what you did wasn't a mistake?”
”Yeah.” His answer was so prompt, Nezumi was caught off-guard.
”You don't regret it?”
”No.”
”Not even a bit?”
”No.”
”Why?”
”Nezumi, I don't really understand what you're trying to ask. But I've done a little thinking myself since moving to Lost Town. I wondered, if I were to go back in time, and return to that night four years ago ― if I were to return to before I met you, what would I do?”
s.h.i.+on smiled sheepishly, and pushed the emergency kit to the back of the shelf.
”I thought about it, over and over again. And every time, there was only one answer. No matter how many times I'd return to that night, I'd do the same thing again. I'd open the window, and wait for you.”
”Even if you knew that your own ruin would be waiting beyond it?”
”But there wasn't any ruin,” s.h.i.+on replied softly. ”I don't think my being here like this has ruined me at all. Right, Cravat?”
The small brown mouse nodded from its perch atop a stack of books.
”That one's Hamlet, isn't it?”
”Hamlet's sleeping on the bed.”
”Oh. Right. ― Geez, you had to go giving them stupid names, now it's more confusing than before.”
”The poor guys deserve names, it's the least you can do. Both of them are smart and courageous. Like Hamlet today, when he let me know that you were in danger.”
”Well, he went to the wrong person. Even if you showed up, you wouldn't be much help. It was alright this time because I'd already chased the dogs away, but if I hadn't, you'd probably be the one sitting there with a gaping wound.”
”Yeah, well ― I guess you're right about that one.”
Nezumi stood up, and grabbed s.h.i.+on by the arm.
”Never do something like that again, you hear me? Whatever happens, don't flatter yourself and think you can be any help to me.”
s.h.i.+on stared back at him with unblinking eyes. Nezumi lifted his chin, and clenched his jaw.
”You're powerless, you remember that. You don't have the skill or the mentality it takes to fight. You're like a chick that's fallen out of its nest. You'd just chirp-chirp-chirp until you're eaten by a fox. So do yourself a favour, and don't go walking into danger's path. Don't do it, ever. Use your head. Put your so-called gifted brain into motion, full-throttle, and use your judgment to a.s.sess the situation. Geez, I don't know what the h.e.l.l you were thinking, running out into the darkness without even carrying a weapon.”
”I wasn't.”
”What?”
”I wasn't thinking at all, of the situation, or of danger. I was already running before I could stop to think.”
”That's why I'm saying, s.h.i.+on, next time, don't ever do something as foolish or reckless.”
”Then what should I do?”
”Don't do anything. There's nothing you could do anyway. Pull a blanket over your head or something, and stay quiet.”
s.h.i.+on dropped his gaze, and shook his head.
”I can't do that,” he said quietly. ”I can't stay there and sit still when I know you're in trouble. I would've burst outside either way.”
”You'd just be a hindrance.”
”That's harsh,” s.h.i.+on said softly.
”It's the truth.”
”Nezumi ― you're right,” he relented. ”I'm useless. I don't know how to fight, and I would never be able to bring myself to hurt anyone.”
”Yeah, and as a soldier, that would put you in the lowest rank. No ― actually, you'd be a write-off. So don't even think about fighting. You don't have the mental leverage to be worrying about other people. You can't even protect yourself. So don't do anything. I'm begging you, just don't go near any dangerous places.”
What the h.e.l.l am I saying?
Nezumi clenched his jaw again.
What was he saying? What was he doing, getting serious about this? Was he that bent on stopping s.h.i.+on?
s.h.i.+on's gonna go alone.
Inukas.h.i.+'s low voice echoed in his ears.
Yes, s.h.i.+on would probably go alone. He'd set out to a place with less than one in a million chances of returning alive, and he'd go alone, without begging for my help, without even telling me. He would go silently, not knowing anything about fighting, not knowing the pain of shedding blood or the chilling horrors of murderous intent. The useless, big-headed, oblivious idiot.
”But it's not about reasoning,” s.h.i.+on said quietly, puncturing the silence.
”Huh? Did you say something?”
”It's not about reasoning, Nezumi. I know very well in my head that even if I were to show up, I wouldn't be of any help to you ― I wouldn't be able to save you. I know.”
”Good for you. The grey matter in your head is about the only thing you can boast about, anyway. And if your head knows, then take its advice.”
”No.”
s.h.i.+on pursed his lips firmly, his expression defiant. It was the face of one whose willpower ran strong and deep. It was Nezumi's first time seeing s.h.i.+on with a face like this.
”It's not about reasoning!” s.h.i.+on said heatedly. ”Back there, when Hamlet came to call me, I was scared. I thought something had happened to you. I thought you were going to die. Are you telling me I should've just stopped and calculated in my head? Figured that it wouldn't do any good if I went anyway, and just sat still? I could never do that. How could I? How could I be cool and calm and think about whether I have or don't have the strength, whether I can or can't help you? How could anyone? Idiot!”
It was his second time being called an idiot by s.h.i.+on. Both times, Nezumi wasn't able to predict s.h.i.+on's explosion of anger. The first time, Nezumi had told s.h.i.+on, 'Don't cry for other people. Don't get into fights for other people. Fight and cry only for yourself.' s.h.i.+on had said that he didn't understand. It was true, he hadn't understood. For this time, again, s.h.i.+on had burst out into the darkness for a stranger. Casting aside the reason which warned him of the risks, he had gone running into the darkness. It was dangerous. Very dangerous. Nezumi had been prepared for s.h.i.+on to become shackles that bound his ankles. But there was also the opposite. There was a possibility that he himself would become the fetters that bound s.h.i.+on's wrists.
This is why―
Nezumi averted his gaze from the boy in front of him.
This is why humans are troublesome. The more you involve yourself with them, the tighter the shackles become. They hinder free movement. It becomes harder to live only for yourself. Maybe we should never have met. Maybe one day, s.h.i.+on, you'd come to think so.
s.h.i.+on's shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. He stuck his lip out in a disgruntled manner.
”Nezumi, why aren't you saying anything?”
”No reason.”
”Go on and laugh if you want to. You probably just think it's all gibberish from someone who doesn't know a thing about the world, right? Fine. Laugh to your heart's content. Go on, laugh.”
”Wait a minute, s.h.i.+on,” Nezumi said hastily, ”it's not like I'm mocking you. I just, well... I'm just saying it's dangerous to jump into danger like that, without thinking about―”
”I know that!” s.h.i.+on said hotly. ”But I couldn't help it, alright, I was worried sick. Or am I not even allowed to worry about you? Don't I even have the right to be worried?”
”The right? s.h.i.+on, you're not making sense.”
”You're the one making me talk like this!”
s.h.i.+on's fist pounded the bookcase. A mound of books collapsed. Cravat gave an alarmed screech, and skittered into the folds of Nezumi's clothes.
s.h.i.+on blinked, and his cheeks flushed. He bent to pick up the books, and mumbled an apology in a subdued voice.
”I'm sorry, I just ― I didn't mean to yell.”
”I don't mind,” Nezumi said lightly. ”I must say it was quite alluring to see you all worked up like that. Something I'd like to be treated to again once in a while.”
”It seems like I'm always worked up when I'm with you,” s.h.i.+on sighed. ”I'm surprised at how emotional I can get sometimes.”
”You've always been an emotional person. You always choose feeling over reason, and you're not ashamed to be truthful to your emotions. Four years ago, it was the same. Even when you were a candidate for the elite echelons of No. 6, you still obeyed your emotions and took me in.”
”Yeah... obeyed my emotions...” he said pensively. ”I guess you're right.”
s.h.i.+on stacked the books neatly, and exhaled.
”But you know, Nezumi, I really don't regret it. I'm still glad that I didn't turn my back on my feelings that night.”
”I know.”
”Huh?”
”I know you don't regret a single bit of what you did. I just asked on a whim. I guess I was probably bored, or something.”
He brought a hand to his shoulder. The bandages, which were old and worn, and would have lost all elasticity by now, wrapped themselves tightly around his shoulder and arm joint, and showed no signs of loosening.
”I wouldn't have been able to dress my wound this well,” Nezumi said reflectively. ”You might not be able to fight, but you can probably treat people. Everyone has something. And probably―”
”Probably?”
”No, never mind. Say, I'm hungry, aren't you?”
s.h.i.+on gazed at Nezumi, and gave a gentle smile.
”There's bread and meat on the table. Some stuff happened, and there's only a little bit left, but it should be enough for dinner.”
”What about you?”
”I'm going to sleep. Your wound is probably gonna keep you up tonight, so you can have the bed to yourself. I'll sleep on the floor.”
”How kind of you.”
”Nezumi.”
”Hm?”
”If I hadn't met you, I probably would never have realized what kind of person I was, huh?”
”Why're you bringing this up now?”
s.h.i.+on drew nearer to Nezumi as he sat in his chair, and looked him straight in the eye.
”I would have grown up into a mild, rational, obedient adult, without even knowing there were so many emotions inside of me. I would never have known what it was like to cry, or get angry, or feel resistance toward something. I met you, and I realized how much abundance I had. And I'm proud that I know now.”
s.h.i.+on clipped his words, and hesitantly lowered his eyes.
”I'm glad I met you.”
It came out as a whisper that he could barely catch. s.h.i.+on bent down, his eyes still lowered. His lips brushed lightly against Nezumi's.
A book fell somewhere with a soft whump.
As s.h.i.+on lifted his face again, Nezumi spoke.
”Not a thank-you kiss, is it?”
”It's a good-night kiss.”
”Good-night, huh.”
”I'm going to be shearing the dogs tomorrow,” s.h.i.+on said. ”There are a whole lot of them with long fur. Inukas.h.i.+ just leaves them, so their fur gets all tangled and they're starting to get skin inflammation.”
”I just got bitten by a dog, alright? I don't care if they have short fur or long fur, I don't even want to hear about dogs right now.”
s.h.i.+on laughed out loud, and gave a casual wave of his hand.
”Good night, then.”
”Yeah. Sweet dreams.”
”You too.”
s.h.i.+on disappeared into the shadows of the books. Cravat crawled out from Nezumi's clothes and scampered after him, perhaps intending to sleep with him too.
”Good-night kiss, huh.”
Nezumi traced his lips with his fingers, and slumped back in his chair.
”Some liar you are.”
His gnawing hunger, exhaustion, and throbbing pain ebbed away. In its place, something welled up from deep within. Sadness, loneliness ― it wasn't quite either. What was it? A hot bead rolled down his cheek. It took him a while to understand that they were tears. He had long forgotten what it was like to cry.
It tasted salty, like over-salted soup.
Nezumi propped his knees up and put his head down on them. Slowly, he swallowed the tears that seeped into his mouth.
-- END OF CHAPTER 4 --
Notes
Translated from the j.a.panese. (back)
Font credit to JOEBOB Graphics for Joe Hand 2 (Karan).
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