Vol 4 Chapter 4 (2/2)
Nezumi? Afraid?
Inukas.h.i.+ found himself vigorously shaking his head from side to side. His long hair flopped as it bounced against his back.
Impossible. Inukas.h.i.+ didn't see Nezumi in a favourable light. On the contrary, he saw him as a danger to deal with. Nezumi never revealed the most important part of his thoughts, and he could be extremely callous at times. Every time Inukas.h.i.+ saw the impressive skill with which he wielded his knife, he wondered if Nezumi had perhaps sent several people to the grave like this.
Inukas.h.i.+ didn't want to deal with him if he could help it―that was his honest opinion. But even so, he knew that Nezumi was someone who was neither underhanded nor deceitful; and although he was extremely cautious, he was not a coward. Inukas.h.i.+ knew that much.
He's decided to sneak into the Correctional Facility. If he's decided it, he'll do it. And now that he's made his decision, he shouldn't have anything to fear or be intimidated by.
Perhaps Nezumi had noticed Inukas.h.i.+'s apprehensive stare. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly in response.
”You're right. You shouldn't even have to say this. It's just―”
”Just what?”
”s.h.i.+on hasn't mentioned it.”
”Mentioned what? About letting everyone know so they can escape?”
”Yeah.”
”Well, it sure sounds like something the airhead would say―but I mean, s.h.i.+on doesn't know much about the Hunt, does he?”
”He's catching on.”
Nezumi got down from the table, and picked up a pebble that was lying near the wall.
”He's slow to get the hint sometimes, but he's not stupid. He's probably realized exactly what kind of hunt the Hunt is. Though it probably hasn't sunk in for him yet.”
”Uh-huh,” said Inukas.h.i.+ dubiously. ”Well, then, that means he's gotten smarter. Maybe he finally gets the picture about what the West Block is actually like.”
”Probably.”
Nezumi was twirling the pebble in his fingers. The question was out of Inukas.h.i.+'s mouth before he knew it.
”What's nagging at you?”
A shadowy veil fell over the pair of beautiful dark-grey eyes. There was a tremulous flicker. Inukas.h.i.+ remembered seeing the same kind of shadow and flicker. Many, many times. It was what you saw in the eyes of a dying child. They were eyes wide open and staring, filled with suffering, agitation, and fear, unable to understand why it hurt so much, and what was going to happen next. They were not the same, but they were very similar.
”You scared of something?” Another question spilled from his lips.
So you really are scared of something? It's not about the Correctional Facility or the Hunt. Those might pose a danger to Nezumi's life, but wouldn't instill fear in him. Then what―
s.h.i.+on?
Inukas.h.i.+ scowled, and sneezed softly.
”What did you say I was scared of?” Nezumi said.
”No―” Inukas.h.i.+ said nonchalantly.
He didn't quite know what kind of relations.h.i.+p s.h.i.+on and Nezumi had or what kind of connection they shared, nor did he ever wish to know. He didn't care. But he was sure that s.h.i.+on would never become Nezumi's enemy. That was one thing that would never happen. Besides, what kind of damage would there be if a single airheaded, oblivious boy turned against them?
Inukas.h.i.+ sucked in a breath.
Oh well, it doesn't matter. Whatever it is, I don't wanna get more involved with these two than I already am. He shooed Nezumi away with his hand.
”Go home.”
”Some greeting.”
”I wouldn't even give you one, if I could help it. ―Nezumi?”
Nezumi was covering his face with his hands. He staggered, and leaned heavily against the wall. He slid down with his back against the wall until he was squatting on the floor. He propped his knees up, and bowed his head.
”Nezumi, what's wrong?”
There was no answer.
”Hey, Nezumi. Stop fooling around. You practicing for your play or something? I'm not gonna give you any acting tips, just saying.”
”Singing―”
”Huh?”
”I hear singing―again―” Nezumi's voice was trembling as he trailed off, and Inukas.h.i.+ could hear his laboured breathing. It turned into a faint murmur.
The wind... steals the soul away... humans thieve... the heart.
”Nezumi, what're you saying? Get a grip on yourself.”
So he has some disease.
Inukas.h.i.+ crouched down, and laid a hand on Nezumi's shoulder.
”You hang in there. I'm gonna get s.h.i.+on.”
He was grabbed by the wrist. It was such a powerful grip, Inukas.h.i.+ almost cried out in pain. Nezumi put his other hand to his forehead, and slowly stood up. He exhaled slowly.
”Hey, Nezumi.”
”I'm fine.”
”You don't look fine at―whatever,” he cut off abruptly. ”None of my business what happens to you, anyway.”
”Right back at ya.”
Nezumi released Inukas.h.i.+'s hand, and took a few steps. His feet were steady.
”Oh yeah.” Nezumi turned back at the door, and fluttered his fingers. In-between them was a silver coin.
”Wha―hey, don't tell me you―”
”And I'm telling you I did. Hidden compartment in the back of your cabinet, huh? Pretty nifty gimmicks you've got in this room, Inukas.h.i.+.”
”W-Wait. You―you opened it?”
”Of course. One silver coin. I'm taking it to pay for s.h.i.+on's day of work. And the bag of crackers, too.”
”The crackers too!?” Inukas.h.i.+ howled. ”You must be f.u.c.king kidding me.”
”They're not stale or mouldy. Superb bag of crackers. I'll have a splendid afternoon tea with these. Thanks.”
Inukas.h.i.+ lunged at Nezumi, only to have the door shut firmly in his face.
He had buried an aged and emaciated dog.
s.h.i.+on threw dirt over the grave, and placed upon it a rock which Inukas.h.i.+ had chosen from the rubble as a makes.h.i.+ft tombstone. He brought his palms together in prayer. Several puppies sat at s.h.i.+on's side, and wagged their tails at the newly-made grave.
He felt a presence behind him. Since he had not heard any footsteps approaching, he knew who was standing there without having to turn around.
”What're you doing?” Nezumi asked.
”I'm giving my condolences.”
”You're praying for a dog.”
”He lived a full life on this land. I think it's admirable.”
Nezumi kicked at the pebbles with the tip of his boot, and nodded.
”Yeah, I guess you're right. It's almost like a miracle for him to be able to die of old age here. He was able to die a peaceful death in a world that doesn't give it to those who deserve it. Yeah. It's worthy of admiration.”
”Will you pray for him too?”
”No thanks. If you're done, let's go home already. You're finished your work for today, aren't you?”
”Did you nick those crackers from Inukas.h.i.+?”
Nezumi lifted a finger at him and wagged it disapprovingly.
”Tut, tut. A royal prince like yourself shouldn't be using such crude words like 'nick'.”
”You nicked them, didn't you.”
”It's for the work you've done. Compensation for your grave-digging. And this, too.” A silver coin appeared between Nezumi's fingertips.
”A silver coin and a bag of crackers. Don't you think that's ripping him off just a little?”
”It's fine. I hooked him up with a job worth two gold coins. Think of the silver as commission. Alright, let's get some dried meat at the market and then head home.”
s.h.i.+on walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Nezumi. The puppies followed him around at his feet, and saw the two of them off at the outskirts of the ruins.
”Where's Inukas.h.i.+? I don't see him anywhere.”
”He's crying.”
”Did you make him cry?”
”He cries at anything. He talks like he's tough, but he's a crybaby. He's probably bawling his eyes out right now because he can't believe he let himself get nicked of his silver and crackers.”
”That's horrible,” s.h.i.+on said worriedly. ”Hey, Nezumi.”
”Hm?”
”About Inukas.h.i.+... uh―by any chance, is he―”
”What about him?”
”Uh―no, never mind. Sorry.”
They climbed a set of crumbling stone steps, and headed to the marketplace lined with barracks. The wind was blowing at them head-on. It seemed to steal away every little bit of their body heat. I wonder what Safu's doing now. I hope she's not freezing in the cold. I hope she's not going hungry.
I love you, s.h.i.+on. More than anyone else.
He was not able to return the girl's feelings. He would probably never be able to. He could not love Safu in the way that she wanted him to. But he could love her another way.
Safu, stay alive. And be waiting for me. Please.
The wind got stronger. He shrank from the cold.
”What're you thinking about?” Nezumi glanced at him, his hair streaming in the wind.
”About Safu.”
”I'd say don't get worked up―but it's probably hard not to. But no good'll come out of it. Just remember that.”
”I know.”
”Pull your hat down lower. The Disposers are here. It's gonna be a pain in the a.s.s if they decide to talk to us.”
Before Nezumi finished his sentence, a burly man approached them from the gang drinking at the barracks.
”Hold on a minute, fellas.”
It was, without a doubt, the same man that had run into s.h.i.+on last time. s.h.i.+on remembered the snake tattoo on his arm.
”Hey, if it ain't those cheeky brats from last time. Nice meetin' ya fellas again, huh? I'll make sure you guys have a good time.”
Tsk. Nezumi clicked his tongue. At the same time, his right arm moved lithely. A blue pebble struck the man right between the eyes. The man cried out as he bent backwards. s.h.i.+on waded through the crowd of people, and broke into a run.
”This way.” He followed Nezumi, skidded into an alleyway, and squatted hastily down. The Disposers thundered past them, yelling angrily.
”That's pretty serious,” Nezumi commented. ”If you get caught next time, you probably won't get away with just a beating. You better prepare for it.”
”Am I the only one who has to prepare?”
”I'm gonna make a run for it.”
”So will I.”
Nezumi looked furtively around before crawling out of the alleyway. Apparently it was an everyday occurrence for men to be bellowing and running around, for people were walking down the street as if nothing had happened.
”But you've gotten faster at running away, that's for sure. You've made some nice progress since last time.”
”You trained me. ―Oh, I said this last time too, didn't I?”
Nezumi smiled. It wasn't one of exasperation, scorn, or cold cruelty. It was a sensual smile. s.h.i.+on found himself entranced by it.
”Eve!” Someone yelled from further down the alley. ”What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?”
A small-framed man wearing a white s.h.i.+rt and black pants was standing there, his face fuming. He was wearing a dark, wide-brimmed hat, and a scarf of the same colour. Although it wasn't very becoming on him, his outfit had a flair that one never saw in the West Block.
”Oh―Manager. It's been a while.”
”It's been a while, indeed,” the man said indignantly. ”I've been looking for you. Why haven't you shown up at the playhouse? We can't get anything started without you on the stage. What's going on?”
”Ah―well, a lot of issues have come up, and... I was wondering if I could take time off from performing for a while.”
”Take time off?” said the man incredulously. ”Are you insane? Most of our audience comes to see you. Planning to put my playhouse out of business, are you?”
The manager then suddenly smoothed his face over with a meek smile, and his voice took on a wheedling tone.
”Come on, Eve,” he said pleadingly. ”Let's talk it out, one man to another. If you've got any complaints, I'm always here to listen.”
”Complaints, huh... that's kind of hard.”
”Don't have any? Then―”
”I've got so many, if I were to list them off, it would take me until tomorrow morning.”
”Eve, I'm begging you. If it's about your compensation, we can work something out. If you can't come in tonight, maybe starting tomorrow―”
There was a noise. It was a sound that would linger in s.h.i.+on's ears, be engraved in his memory, and haunt him incessantly in his dreams in the days to come.
The sound of destruction. The sound of genocide. The sound of death. The sound of despair. Screaming, yelling, crying, footsteps. Everything melted together, tripping over each other, tangling with everything else, writhing, rising in pandemonium. h.e.l.l had materialized before s.h.i.+on's eyes.
People began to flee frantically in every which way. The barracks began to collapse, and tents were being torn down.
”It's the Hunt!” someone bellowed.
It's the Hunt.
It's the Hunt.
It's the Hunt.
Even the howling of the wind was drowned out.
An elderly person tripped and fell. s.h.i.+on had no chance to help him up. Countless feet stepped on the fallen as they stormed past.
”It's begun.” Nezumi swallowed. He turned around and gave a curt command to the manager.
”Run!”
There was a deafening explosion above their heads. The air rippled with it. A numbing impact came slamming into them. A barrack that used to be a meat shop was blasted to bits.
”s.h.i.+on!” He felt himself being knocked over. Nezumi's body overlapped his own. As he was pushed against the ground, s.h.i.+on choked on his own breath. He could hear Nezumi's voice at his ear.
”s.h.i.+on, you alright?”
”Of course.”
This was no time to fall unconscious. It had started. Everything was starting now.
Nezumi drew away. s.h.i.+on lifted himself up, and gave a small groan. He saw the sky. A grey expanse of sky spread above him. The whole second floor of the barrack which had previously been blocking his vision was blown off and gone. The air was thick with dust.
”What about that man?”
”Who?”
”Your manager, or whoever.”
”Oh, he probably got away. If he's lucky, he'll make his escape. If not―he'll end up like that.” Nezumi jerked his chin. There was a b.l.o.o.d.y arm protruding from under a collapsed wall. It was thick and hairy.
”Probably the old guy from the meat shop.”
It's the Hunt.
Help.
O dear G.o.d.
d.a.m.nit.
We're gonna get killed.
Run, run, run.
Ahh, ahh, ahh.
Voices clashed together in an unintelligible din. s.h.i.+on squatted down in the shadows of the ruined remains of a wall, trying to avoid being caught up in the moving ma.s.s of people. Less than a step away was the arm of the man from the meat shop.
”Nezumi, is this―”
”Look.” s.h.i.+on's gaze roved to where Nezumi was pointing.
”Oh―” His breath and his voice were stuck in his throat.
Two armoured vehicles were travelling side-by-side down the road, almost blocking it entirely. They made their way into the marketplace at a crawling speed. The barracks were no match for them. They were like paper-craft, crackling as they were crushed beneath the wheels.
”Nezumi, those armoured trucks―”
”Yeah. Old models, by the looks of it. But it looks like their ammo is still in working shape. They used acoustic shockwaves to blast the second floor off the meat shop. When did they start putting it to use?” Nezumi muttered to himself. ”Or did they use this place to test it out?”
”That's not what I'm asking. I meant―do those belong to No. 6?”
”Well, they don't belong to me, that's for sure.”
The fact that No. 6 had an army was something entirely new to s.h.i.+on.
Before he was born, the six city-states that dotted the earth had conferred together to sign a peace treaty that clearly denoted their vow to abandon their armies and forbid the possession, development and use of any weapons. From the past they had learned that warfare between the states only caused environmental destruction and deterioration of the motherland, endangering the existence of humankind itself. As a means to escape their own extinction, all cities had signed the treaty and vowed to honour it.
It was called the Babylon Treaty, after the ancient castle in which the signing was held.
But s.h.i.+on was no longer surprised by any of it. If No. 6 was a fictional utopia, then it was only appropriate for the city to have an army, soldiers, and weapons in order to oppress, dominate, and erase its people.
s.h.i.+on beheld the approaching armoured truck warily, and regulated his breathing. Nezumi gave a soft chuckle.
”I thought you'd panic a little more. You've toughened up.”
”You trained me.”
”You were a nice pupil to coach. But game time is just starting.”
”Yeah, I know.”
The mob of people rippled. The flow was pushed back. The same armoured truck had appeared in front of them this time, blocking their way. The screams of the crowd grew louder. People jostled each other, toppling over like dominoes, and as they screamed and shrieked tearfully, they became one churning ma.s.s herded into the centre of the marketplace. It was in the area where s.h.i.+on and Nezumi had taken cover, right in front of the destroyed meat shop. The meat shop, the tavern across, the used-clothing store beside it, and the store selling dried goods were all destroyed. Perhaps they had been blown up purposely to make the capture easier. Soldiers had appeared with guns in hand to surround the mob.
”Quiet down.” A low, booming voice of a man issued forth from the armoured vehicle.
”Help! Please, just save my baby.” A mother with an infant in her arms was raising her voice in plea to anyone who would listen. No one answered her.
”Please, he's not even one yet. Don't kill him!” As if sparked by her agitation, the baby began to wail in her arms.
”Please... don't kill him...”
s.h.i.+on bit down on his lip. His whole body was shaking.
What should I do. What can I do? What―I can't do anything.
A whimper.
A voice. It was a dog's voice. As s.h.i.+on whirled around, his eyes met with a dog who was poking its head out of the rubble. It was one of Inukas.h.i.+'s dogs―the one that had delivered s.h.i.+on his letter. Just the other day, s.h.i.+on had given him a caring and thorough wash as his way of expressing his grat.i.tude. It was a large, dark brown dog. s.h.i.+on extended his arms to the mother.
”Give me the baby.”
The mother widened her eyes, clutching the crying baby to her breast.
”Hurry, give him to me.”
”What will you do with my baby?”
”We might be able to save him. Hurry.” He half-wrenched the baby from the mother's arms. He shed his coat, wrapped the tiny body in it, and laid him down in a s.p.a.ce among the rubble. The dog lay down beside it, and licked the baby's face. The crying stopped instantly. The dog's brown fur blended perfectly with the crumbled wall, which was the same colour. He was unnoticeable.
Maybe he'll make it. Maybe―
”I'm counting on you.”
The dog swung its tail softly.
”My baby―my son―” The young mother covered her face with her hands.
”If you're able to make it through, go to the hotel ruins,” s.h.i.+on said to her.
”Hotel?”
”Hotel ruins. The baby will be kept there. Don't worry, he'll be taken care of. So make sure you make it out. Alive. And please be there to pick him up.”
The mother nodded, and closed her eyes as if in prayer.
”I'll be d.a.m.ned if I die at yer hands!” a burly voice roared. ”We ain't gettin' killed by the likes o' you!”
Along with the voices, several small rocks whizzed at the soldiers. An agitated buzz ran throughout the crowd. Rocks and pebbles flew one after another from the mob, aimed at the soldiers.
”s.h.i.+t,” Nezumi grimaced. ”s.h.i.+on, get down!”
”Huh?”
”Hold your head and duck!”
s.h.i.+on did as he was told, covered his head with both hands, and squatted down. At almost the same time, the soldiers opened fire with a torrent of electric bullets. The beams of the electric guns pierced people's foreheads, chests, and stomachs. Men, women, the elderly, and the young all fell without even raising a cry. They convulsed, and were still.
”If you rebel, you shall be killed. There are no exceptions.”
It was a low voice. It was not a threat. Everyone understood. The clamour in the bazaar, or what used to be, died down at once. People even stopped moving. They were frozen in fear, and rigid with despair.
s.h.i.+on stood up cautiously. There was a corpse in front of him. It had a wound between the eyes, but it wasn't fatal. It was only red and swollen. The fatal wound was a little bit above it. The person had been shot straight through the middle of his forehead. It was the Disposer. His mouth was gaping open, and his lifeless eyes were staring at the sky. Beside him, an elderly woman was squatting on the ground, chanting something under her breath. Her vacant gaze roamed aimlessly.
The scene before him lost all colour. s.h.i.+on was never able to give colour to this scene that had permanently burned an image in his memory. Although faded, he knew the people there had clothes and hair of various colours; he knew that the rubble was not just one shade; he remembered for certain that the dog had dark brown fur―but the man's corpse on the ground, the old woman who had gone insane, and the sight of the frozen mob was only ever in monotone, in black and white. But there was just one exception, in the dark grey that floated before his eyes. It was not from the clouds. It was an eye colour. They were dark grey eyes that glowed brightly and from deep within, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with vitality. It was the colour which s.h.i.+on had been drawn to, been beheld by, and ultimately had never been able to forget for the rest of his life.
”I repeat. If you rebel, you shall be killed. Don't move.”
No one moved. They could not move. Only the wind blew freely.
”s.h.i.+on.” Nezumi grabbed his arm. ”Don't lose it.”
s.h.i.+on gazed into Nezumi's eyes, and laid his own fingers over the ones that grasped his bicep. He wasn't clinging out of desperation. He wasn't giving in to complete reliance. He only wanted to make sure. This is where my heart is. I was human when my heart was stolen by him, and I was human when I longed to be by his side. And this fact won't change, no matter what name I give to these feelings.
In a reality so inhumane, almost too inhumane, the only thing one could do to remain human was to refuse to abandon one's feelings for others, and to hold onto one's own human soul. s.h.i.+on clasped his hand tightly around Nezumi's.
Nezumi, I want to stay human.
Nezumi breathed out softly.
”Keep your sanity. You can do it, right?”
”I'm alright.”
”Of course,” Nezumi said reflectively. ”You would be alright. I shouldn't have worried.”
”You will now be transported.”
The armoured trucks turned and changed directions. A large, black truck loomed silently in its place.
-- END OF CHAPTER 4 --
Read Chapter 5.
Notes
Boccaccio, Giovanni. Trans. George H. McWilliam. The Decameron. London, New York: Penguin Books, 1995. 419. (back)
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