Vol 4 Chapter 3.1 (2/2)
His throat was dry. So dry, it hurt. s.h.i.+on sipped a mouthful of hot water, and swallowed it slowly.
”The wasps didn't come from outside.”
He took another mouthful of water.
”They were inside No. 6 all along.”
Nezumi also brought his cup to his lips. Perhaps his throat was dry as well.
”You said something similar before―that maybe it originated in the Forest Park. You said the admin system somehow overlooked the monster when it was born.”
”Yeah,” s.h.i.+on agreed. ”I mean, seeing how there were already two casualties in that park, including Yamase-san, I figured―but that sounds way too unreal...”
”So you're saying regular wasps that were living in the city suddenly turned into man-eating ones. Is that what they call 'mutation'?”
”But it's a type of mutation that's never been seen before. But the fact that they're still active in this cold―it's impossible in the natural world.”
It was impossible in the natural world. Then maybe―
”No way,” s.h.i.+on muttered to himself. ”How could that―”
Thunk. There was a dull noise. A cup grazed s.h.i.+on's arm as it fell, bounced off a book, and rolled on the floor.
”Huh?”
In a corner of his vision, s.h.i.+on could see Nezumi falling forward. He gradually crumpled to his knees, as if in slow motion.
”Nezumi!” s.h.i.+on sprang forward to catch the falling body in his arms. ”Nezumi! Hang in there!”
Nezumi was heavy and completely limp. He was unable to keep his own body standing. s.h.i.+on couldn't believe it. His mind went blank―he couldn't think of anything. He couldn't make a rational decision. He couldn't take appropriate action.
”Nezumi, Nezumi!” He desperately kept calling his name, and and hugged him tightly. He could feel the body tremble beneath his fingers. Through the cracks of Nezumi's own fingers as he covered his face with his hands, he could hear Nezumi groan.
”St―Stop it...”
”Nezumi? What's wrong? Stay with me, Nezumi!”
”Stop―who... who's...” Nezumi's fingers latched onto s.h.i.+on's arm and dug in. They were shaking violently.
s.h.i.+on slipped on the spilled water, and collapsed on the floor with Nezumi still in his arms. A stack of books fell over, and the startled mice darted out of sight.
”Nezumi, what's wrong? Tell me what's wrong.”
Hang in there. Get a grip on yourself. He told himself. But completely arrested by fear, his own body was also shaking. Nezumi. Don't tell me―not you too―
A wasp would come crawling out. It would come crawling out, breaking through his smooth skin. If it did―if that happened―
”No!”
No. No. No. No. No. I can't bear it. If I lost you here, right now, I wouldn't be able to stay sane. I would go mad. The world would turn upside-down.
No. No. No.
Confusion inflated his fear, and ground his thought processes to a halt.
No. This is too much. What should I do? Someone―somebody, please―
Nezumi's body began to burn. The perspiration that broke out moistened s.h.i.+on's hands.
”―s.h.i.+on―” Nezumi called his name weakly between his groans.
”―help me...”
s.h.i.+on felt like he had been given a sharp slap. He was now wide awake.
Move. Move, before wailing and crying. Can't you do anything other than hold him in your arms?
He bit his lip, and willed strength into his arms. He laid Nezumi on the floor, and tore his s.h.i.+rt open. He put a hand to the base of Nezumi's neck. It was drenched with sweat, but there was no abnormality. There was no stain or bulge. He pressed his ear to Nezumi's chest, and listened to his heartbeat. He measured his pulse. It was quicker than normal, but it was not erratic. There was no breathing trouble or vomiting. There was probably zero danger of choking. And his consciousness?
s.h.i.+on squeezed Nezumi's hand, and leaned in towards him.
”Nezumi, can you hear my voice?”
Listen to me. Let my voice reach you. Open your eyes, and answer me.
”I'll help you, I promise I will.” I'll help you this time. So please. Give me a response. I want you to answer me. No―I know you'll answer me. You have to.
”Nezumi!”
”It's a type of mutation that's never been seen before. But the fact that they're still active in this cold―it's impossible in the natural world.” s.h.i.+on abruptly clipped his words, and lapsed into silence as he looked down. It looked like he was trying to settle into a contemplative state.
Guess I better not disturb him.
Nezumi thought to himself as he sipped his hot water. Whatever the case, today was over. He couldn't predict what would happen tomorrow. But that meant it was all the more meaningless to be dismal, fearful, or to brace oneself for tomorrow. He didn't believe in any G.o.d. He knew right down to the marrow of his bones how ba.n.a.l a word like ”fate” was. He didn't think of entrusting himself to a word like that. He would not be swept up in its flow. If he gave up and abandoned his struggle, the only way to go would be down. He would descend into death, or something worse.
So he would continue to rebel. How many years had pa.s.sed since he had decided to? But he would continue to rebel.
It meant that he would not abandon his will to fight, and that he would hold his ground against a tomorrow he could not predict. It also meant that at times, he would probably sink into deep contemplation like s.h.i.+on. It was certain that s.h.i.+on was struggling and fighting in his own earnest and singular way. It was clumsy, off-the-mark, and poorly developed, but he was still fighting. He was taking his stance in his own way. He wasn't trying to run away from battle. He had never run away once. Inukas.h.i.+ was right―Nezumi was a little impressed.
s.h.i.+on's white hair s.h.i.+mmered orange, lit by the light of the heater. He never said it out loud, but Nezumi liked s.h.i.+on's hair. He thought it was much more beautiful than the black hair he had before.
Maybe he would give that hair a light caress before telling him he was heading off to bed. He would disappear for the time being, so as not to disturb s.h.i.+on's struggle.
He reached out.
A flash of light pierced his head. His breath caught in his throat. A wind, a turbulent gust whipped around the inside of his skull. His body teetered. He was falling. Crumbling. His consciousness was being stolen away.
”Nezumi!”
He heard s.h.i.+on scream. Simultaneously, a song came flowing into his ears. Someone was singing. Someone was singing a song that sounded like murmurs of the wind―
”St―Stop it...”
He wanted to plug his ears, but his hands would not move. He was being dragged in. What was this? What was happening? An expanse of greenery spread before him. He could feel the humid heat of the gra.s.s. Hot vapours rose, filled with its gra.s.sy scent. Numerous trees nestled together, and ferns grew in clumps. Layers and layers of tree leaves and underbrush covered the ground in every shade of green. And he could hear a song from far away. Song? Was it a song? It was. For sure―but what mingled with its sound... the buzzing of wings. Countless insects were flying around.
This sound, this song, this scene―he had seen it before. Somewhere...
No, I'm being dragged in.
”No!”
A scream tore through. Was it his own? He was clasping something. He was being embraced by someone.
This was a lifeline. He would not let go, no matter what.
He used all his strength to dig his fingers in.
The firm sensation of flesh brought his consciousness a little closer to the surface.
s.h.i.+on.
He clung desperately.
s.h.i.+on―help me.
Continued in PART B.
Notes
Carter, Steven D., trans. Traditional j.a.panese Poetry: An Anthology. Stanford, California: Stanford UP, 1991. 84. (back)
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