Vol 5 Chapter 2.2 (2/2)
”Rather?”
”I might even be―afraid.”
”Afraid? What do you mean?”
Nezumi lapsed into silence. His lips moved slightly.
Monster.
Was that the word his thin, shapely lips had moved to form?
Monster?
Agitated, s.h.i.+on opened his mouth to prompt him again.
But there were footsteps. Several sets of them. They were slightly more steady than the fallen man's. A couple men and a woman overtook them from behind, and sank onto the floor in the middle of the room. They were all out of breath, but were not on the verge of dying.
”It's all over,” Nezumi said.
He meant that the task was complete. From the crowd of unfortunate people caught up in the Hunt in the West Block, they had eliminated the ones who had fallen on the way to the elevator; then, they had hurled everyone into the dark depths of the underground. They had tossed them away: the elderly, infants, men, and women, without distinction.
”Well, let's go, then.”
”Huh?”
”Don't 'huh' me, I'm saying we have to move our chess piece forward. Nothing will get done if we hang around chatting. About time anyway, since we're probably both getting sick of it.”
”Nezumi, wait. What you were saying bef―”
”That's enough.”
Words were cut off by more words.
”Unfortunately this isn't exactly a situation where we can indulge in idle conversation. d.a.m.nit,” Nezumi swore, ”I'm always thrown off track when I'm with you. This is what I mean by piece of s.h.i.+t. Come on. We can wait forever, but no one'll bring us afternoon tea. Break time is over. Get moving.”
”Where are we going?”
”We're going back along this pa.s.sage, opposite of how we just came. Now isn't that easy? I think even you might be able to manage it.”
”Go back! What for?”
”To move forward.”
Nezumi started walking. s.h.i.+on followed behind him once again. The pa.s.sage reeked of blood. He wondered if odours could have weight to them. The smell of blood that still flowed from the bodies was heavy, and seemed to slither over the floor, and crawl up from his feet.
He realized he was getting used to this smell. Compared to when he had walked down this path the first time, the queasiness in his chest and the impulse to cover his nose were not as strong. He was getting used to the smell of blood. Did that mean he was becoming stronger, or turning numb?
s.h.i.+on took wider steps as if to tear apart the stench that swathed him.
Monster.
The word that had slipped voicelessly from Nezumi's lips: what did it mean? Even if he asked, he would probably not get an answer.
s.h.i.+on lifted his face. Nezumi was close enough that if he stretched, he could touch his shoulder. The stench of blood grew thicker. The groans and screams of people who could not die came pressing on him. s.h.i.+on was faced anew with the reality that he was standing at the brink of life and death itself.
”Nezumi.”
There was no answer. His right shoulder only rose slightly.
”On the floorplan of the Correctional Facility, apart from the newly-built area, there was another large blank s.p.a.ce underground, wasn't there?”
”Yeah...”
”Is this that blank s.p.a.ce?”
”Yeah.”
A clear answer bounced back to him.
”You knew about this place, didn't you?”
”What if I did?”
”Then what was the line that was extending further down from the s.p.a.ce?”
This time, Nezumi did not even turn around. But his gait slackened.
”You noticed?” he said.
”Well, it seemed out of place...”
It was an odd line. Especially because the map was filled with layers of electric circuitry, barriers at equal intervals, and countless rooms that made up the complicated interior structure of the Correctional Facility, the two blanks were eye-catching. The first was the newly-built area on the topmost floor; the other was this bas.e.m.e.nt area. From here, there was a white line drawn that extended still further downwards. A straight line. It wasn't the symbol for a circuit or pipe; in fact, it looked like a pa.s.sageway. But there was nothing at the end of it, not even a blank s.p.a.ce. It abruptly ended in the middle. In the Correctional Facility, every minute detail was carefully calculated to cut off any possibility of escape; it was designed to maximize its functionality in the most efficient way possible. Amidst all of that, this line was a queer and unnatural existence.
Nezumi stopped. Turning only partly towards s.h.i.+on, he threw a glance at him.
”What do you think it is?”
”Is it something I would be able to figure out?”
”No. No matter how much you put your pitiful imagination to work, you could probably never guess. I bet this place was off the radar of your imagination too, by quite a bit.”
If there was such a radar, it had long been shattered to pieces. He had never imagined that a world like this could exist.
He had known nothing. But now, he knew.
The two blanks: with his flimsy imagination, he could not perceive what could be on the topmost floor. But he understood now what was in the bas.e.m.e.nt. He knew now, down to the marrow of his bones. This place, which had been a vacant s.p.a.ce on the floorplan. was the h.e.l.l that the Holy City had materialized in this world. No. 6 was a city state: this meant that humans made it function. Then did that mean it was possible for humans to become this brutal? Then how heartless could they ultimately become? Then how could they stop themselves from becoming so? Then....
s.h.i.+on chewed his lip. While chewing, he gave his head a shake.
It was no good to think now―he had neither the time nor the strength. But someday, someday surely, he would find the answer.
How heartless could humans become?
How could they stop themselves from becoming so?
Someday, he would seek it out.
s.h.i.+on sucked in a breath, and smelled blood. He had confidence. The confidence was firmly seated deep in his breast, that someday he would grasp the answer with his own hands. Like an unshakable boulder, it existed. It was also the conviction that no matter what situation may befall him, he would still be able to keep a foothold and remain within the range of humanity.
Nezumi was still twisted around, looking at s.h.i.+on. s.h.i.+on fixed his gaze directly on Nezumi.
Yes, Nezumi. I'm confident. As long as I'm beside you, I can say with conviction that I can remain human.
”What?” Nezumi blinked. ”What're you grinning about?”
”Grinning?” He brought a hand to his cheek. Sweat and blood had mingled, dried, and left a crust on his skin. ”Was I grinning?”
”You sure were. Really, would you smile in this kind of situation? I thought you'd finally lost it.”
”I'm still sane. Probably.”
”I sure hope so. In a place like this, you could probably hop the border between sanity and insanity with one leap.”
”If I went mad, would you toss me away here?”
”Of course. I can't have you being more of a burden than you already are.”
”I figured as much.”
Heh. Nezumi's lip curled. He was also smiling, in this kind of situation. It was a smile neither bitter nor cold. It was somewhat mirthful, even.
”I wouldn't toss you away, s.h.i.+on.”
s.h.i.+on drew his chin back a little. There was no way it would be followed by any sugary line like, ”I'll take you there if I have to carry you myself.”
”I'll slit your throat in one resolute stroke.”
Still smiling, Nezumi lifted a single finger. His grey eyes were not smiling at all. They were still, like the surface of a frozen lake.
s.h.i.+on clutched at his throat without thinking. There was a scratch that Nezumi had left a few days ago. He had made a shallow cut on his skin with the tip of his knife. The scar from the wound, which had bled only slightly and had closed up long ago, was thudding with a pulse.
”Relax,” Nezumi drawled. ”Even I take pity on people. I'll end it all in an instant. I would never make you suffer.”
”Thanks,” s.h.i.+on said, for want of anything else to say, still clutching his throat. ”That's kind of you.”
”I'm always kind to you. Sometimes I think I'm spoiling you too much. It's something I regret nowadays.”
”It could be a temporary state of confusion.”
”Huh?”
”Make sure you can distinguish whether I've actually gone mad or if I'm suffering temporary confusion from shock. Then you can decide if you still want to slit my throat. It shouldn't be too late for the decision.”
”If I have the time.”
”Hey, wait a minute,” s.h.i.+on said indignantly. The scar was still throbbing under his fingers.
If he was going to be killed by Nezumi, he had no complaints. True to his promise, Nezumi would probably slash his throat without causing him any pain or suffering at all. s.h.i.+on had just seen for himself how welcoming a peaceful death was. He would not complain. But he did not want to die a meaningless death. He wanted to live and return to that room, no matter what it took.
”It might be hard, but I want you to check for me, just in case. Please.”
”How?”
”Just throw water on me. If there's no water... then no choice, I guess, you can slap me across the face like you did back there. They say with fits of hysteria, people can recover with a shock as little as that―”
”I'll give you a kiss.”
”Huh?”
”Before I slit your throat, I'll give you a kiss,” Nezumi said softly. ”You'll find out exactly how much better I am at giving farewell kisses. Then you can go off to heaven.”
”Nezumi...”
He was probably bright red in the cheeks, right down to his ears. He felt hot. Even his forehead was damp with sweat. Nezumi spoke in a joking tone, but he was most likely not joking at all.
Whether you go mad, or get wounded, if you can't move anymore, then that's the end of you. So I'll give you a farewell kiss, before I slit your throat.
A kiss of death. The innermost part of s.h.i.+on's body pulsated in response. He shook his head. No matter how seductive, he had to reject anything that tried to lead him to death.
”That's no good. I need you to find another way, or else I'd be in trouble.”
”Why?”
”My panic attack would get worse.”
Nezumi snapped his eyes open for an instant, then turned his face aside to snort. Although he was trying not to laugh, his body shook with the effort, and he couldn't quite restrain himself.
”You―” he gasped, ”You really―don't get it, do you? To think you'd... give me a serious answer... I... you're really dense.”
”Is it that funny?”
”Couldn't have done better.” Removing his gloves, Nezumi wiped at his eyes with his fingers. ”I would never have thought I'd... laugh for real in a place like this. Really funny.”
”I didn't really mean it as a joke.”
”Alright, s.h.i.+on, spare me. I understand now. You'll never go insane, yeah?” Wiping his eyes again, Nezumi drew a short breath. ”Humans are more p.r.o.ne to laughing than I thought. New discovery.”
The smile vanished from Nezumi's face. With a stony expression that reminded s.h.i.+on of a mask, Nezumi slowly motioned with his chin.
”Let's go.”
They were at the end of the pa.s.sageway. They were standing in that place again. It seemed as if the darkness had turned a deeper colour since their last escape from it.
The mountain of casualties had grown higher. It was natural, since the third group had added their numbers to the pile. But nevertheless, s.h.i.+on found himself backing away unconsciously. To think the mound of fallen and crushed people would grow even larger...
”Hmm, I think this would do,” Nezumi muttered, standing amongst the torrent of darkness, stink, and the groans of people unable to die. s.h.i.+on felt a faint chill around his back.
”Nezumi, what are we about to―?”
”We're gonna climb.”
”Climb?”
”Have you any experience with hiking or rock climbing?”
”Nezumi... what are you talking about...? By climbing, surely you don't mean―”
”I sure do mean it. There's gonna be no path. No signs, map, or portable lights. You only have your body to depend on. Got it? Make sure you keep up.”
Nezumi swung a foot onto the black heap. s.h.i.+on stood stock-still, with his mouth hanging half-open.
”What are you waiting for? Hurry up.” He could hear Nezumi's voice raining down on his head. It didn't contain a smidgeon of irritation or contempt, but the voice hurt him. He felt like he was being struck with a whip.
I won't allow any hesitation. There's no option left for us to go back, to delay, to look for another path. We have no choice but to move on. And I won't allow you to hesitate here, s.h.i.+on.
I know. I know. I know.
s.h.i.+on reached out into the black heap. His fingers were shaking violently. He couldn't grasp properly.
”s.h.i.+on!”
He knew. He wasn't allowed to cower. He thrust his knuckle in his mouth, and bit down hard. The shaking stopped. The sound of the earth rumbling came from somewhere in the mound. He froze. It wasn't the earth rumbling. They were the voices of people. This mound was made up of people. Don't forget. Live, and commit everything to memory. Live through it, and pa.s.s our story on.
I won't let myself hesitate.
He reached out. The trembling in his fingers had stopped completely.
[Editor's Note]
The Nuremburg Interviews: A record of interviews conducted by American psychiatrist Leon Goldensohn with n.a.z.i war criminals at Nuremburg, the first place where core n.a.z.i war criminals were tried. Individuals interviewed included Rudolf Hoess, commandant of the Auschwitz concentration camp; Wilhelm Keitel, chief-of-staff of the Supreme Command of the Armed Forces (OKW); and Hermann Goering, commander-in-chief of the air force.
-- END OF CHAPTER --
Read Chapter 3.
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