CHAPTER 1

Nezumi, Dripping Wet

Nezumi was in a tunnel. In the darkness, he drew a

quiet breath. The air smelled faintly of moist dirt. He
inched his way forward carefully. The tunnel was small. It
was just big enough for Nezumi to squeeze through, and it
was dark. Light was nowhere to be seen, but it soothed his
soul. He liked dark and small spaces. In these spaces, no
large living things could come to capture him. Momentary
relief and tranquility. There was a dull pain from the
wound on his shoulder, but it wasn't enough to concern
him. The problem, rather, was with the amount of blood
he had lost. The wound wasn't deep. It had only grazed a
little bit of his shoulder. By now, the blood should have
begun clotting and closed the open wound. But the wound
was still.... He felt a warm and slippery sensation. It was
still bleeding.
――Anticoagulant. They had coated the bullet with it.
Nezumi bit his lip. He wanted something to stop his
bleeding. Thrombin, or aluminum salt. No, not even so
much as that. At least, clean water to wash his wound.
His legs buckled. Dizziness overcame him.
――Not good.
Fainting from lack of blood, maybe. If it was, that
would be bad. Soon, he wouldn't be able to move at all.
――But maybe I wouldn't mind.
 He heard a voice inside him.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to curl up, unable to move,
shrouded in damp darkness. He would nod off to sleep, a
long sleep ― and peaceful death. It wouldn't hurt, not that
much. It might feel a little cold.
No, that would be taking it too lightly. His blood
pressure would plummet, he would have trouble
breathing, his limbs would be paralysed ... of course it
wouldn't be painless.
――I want to sleep.
He was tired. Cold. Hurting. Unable to move. He only
had to suffer for a little while, he told himself. Stay still,
rather than struggle fruitlessly. There may be people
pursuing him, but none who would rescue him. Then, he
should just put an end to living. Curl up here, and just go
to sleep. Just give up.
His feet continued forward. His hands ran along the
walls. Nezumi gave a forced smile. His voice was telling
him to give up, but his body still doggedly carried on. How
troublesome it all was.
――An hour left. No, thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes was the time limit for any free
movement he had. In that time, he had to stop his
bleeding, and secure a spot to rest. The bare
requirements to keep living.
There was movement in the air. The darkness before
him was gradually becoming lighter. He took each step
painstakingly. He emerged from his dark and narrow
side-tunnel to a wider area surrounded by white concrete
walls. Nezumi knew that this was a part of a sewer tunnel
that had been in use until ten and some-odd years ago,
the end of the twentieth century. Contrary to the ground
above, No. 6's underground facilities were not very
well-maintained. Much of it had been left in the same
state as they were from the last century. This sewer
tunnel was just another one of those, abandoned and
forgotten. Nezumi couldn't have asked for a better
environment. He closed his eyes and visualized the map of
No. 6 that he had extracted from the computer.
There was a good chance that this was the abandoned
route K0210. If it was, then it should extend close to the
high-income residence area called Chronos. Of course, it
could very well also lead to a dead end. But if he had
decided to live, then moving forward was his only option.
Nezumi in his current state had neither choice nor time to
deliberate.
The air shifted. It wasn't the stale dampness of before,
but fresh air carrying plenty of moisture. He remembered
that it was raining hard up above. This passage was
definitely connected to the upper world.
Nezumi inhaled, and smelled the scent of rain.

***
 September 7, 2013 was my twelfth birthday. On this
day, a tropical low pressure-system, or hurricane, that had
developed a week ago off the southwestern area of the
North Pacific Ocean, made its way north, gathering power,
until it hit us directly in the city of No. 6.
It was the best present I had ever gotten. I was filled
with excitement. It was only past four in the evening, but
already it was getting dark. The trees in the yard bowed in
the winds as leaves and small branches were torn off. I
loved the clamorous noise they made. It was the bare
opposite of this neighbourhood's usual atmosphere, which
hardly involved any loudness.
My mother preferred small trees over flowers, and
through her enthusiastic planting of almond, camellia and
maple trees all over the place, our yard had grown into a
small grove. But thanks to that, the noise today was unlike
any other. Each tree made a different groaning sound.
Torn leaves and branches smacked against the window,
plastered to them, and then were whipped away again.
Time and time again, gusts of wind burst against the
window.
I itched to open it. Even strong winds like these were
not enough to crack the shatter-resistant glass, and in this
atmosphere-controlled room, humidity and temperature
remained stable and unchanged. That was why I wanted to
open the window. Open it, and bring in the air, the wind,
the rain, a change from the usual.
"Shion," called Mother's voice from the intercom. "I
hope you're not thinking of opening the window."
 "I'm not."
"Good... did you hear? The lower lands of the West
Block are flooding. Terrible, isn't it?"
She didn't sound like she felt terrible at all.
Outside No. 6, the land was divided into four blocks ―
East, West, North and South. Most of the East and South
blocks were farmland or grazing pastures. They provided
for 60% of all plant-made foods and 50% of animal food
products. In the north, there was an expanse of deciduous
forest and mountains, under complete conservation by the
Central Administration Committee.
Without the Committee's permission, none could enter
the area. Not that anyone would want to wander into the
wilderness, which was completely unmaintained.
In the centre of the city there was an enormous forest
park that took up more than a sixth of the city's total
area. In it, one could experience the seasonal changes and
interact with the hundreds of species of small animals and
insects that inhabited it.
A vast majority of the citizens were content with the
wildlife inside the park. I didn't like it much. I especially
disliked the City Hall building that loomed in the centre of
the park. It went five stories underground and ten stories
above, and was shaped like a dome. No. 6 had no
skyscrapers, so maybe "looming" was a little exaggerated.
Nevertheless, it gave off an ominous feeling. Some people
called it The Moondrop from its round, white shape, but I
thought it resembled more of a round blister on the skin.
A blister that had erupted in the centre of the city. As if to
surround it, the city hospital and Safety Bureau building
stood close by, and were connected with pathways that
looked like gas pipes. Surrounding that was a green forest.
The forest park, a place of peace and tranquility for the
good citizens. All the plants and animals that inhabited
this place were minutely monitored, and all flowers, fruits
and small creatures of each area in every season were
thoroughly recorded.
Citizens could find out the best time and place to
watch or gaze at these through the city's service system.
Obedient, perfected nature. But even it would be raging
on a day like this. It was, after all, a hurricane.
A branch with green leaves still attached smacked into
the window. A gust of wind followed, and its roar
resonated for some time. At least, I thought I could hear it
resonate. The soundproof glass cut me off from any
outside noise. I wanted the window out of my way. I
wanted to hear, to feel, the raging wind. Almost without
thinking, I threw the window open. The wind, the rain,
came blowing in. The wind rumbled as if coming from
deep within the earth. It was a roar I hadn't heard in a
long time. I too, raised my own hands and let out a yell. It
would scatter on the storming winds, and reach no one's
ears. Yet still I shouted, with no meaning. Raindrops flew
into my throat. I knew I was being childish, but I couldn't
stop. It began raining harder. How exciting it would be to
take off all my clothes and burst out into the rain. I tried
to imagine myself naked, running around in the torrential
storm. I would definitely be declared insane. But it was an
irresistible temptation. I opened my mouth wide again,
and swallowed the droplets. I wanted to repress this
strange impulse. I was afraid of what lurked inside me. At
times, I find I'm overwhelmed by a tumultuous, savage
surge of emotions.

Break it.
Destroy it.
Destroy what?
Everything.
Everything?

There was a mechanical warning sound. It was

notifying me that the atmospheric conditions in the room
were deteriorating. Eventually, the window would close
and lock automatically. Dehumidification and temperature
control would commence, and all wet things in the room,
including me, would be dried instantly. I wiped my
dripping face on the curtain and made my way to the door
to turn the air control system off.
What if, at that moment, I had obeyed the warning
sound? Sometimes, I still wonder about it. If I had closed
the window, and chosen to stay in the adequately dry
comfort of my room, my life would have been entirely
different. It wasn't regret, not anything like that. It was
just a peculiar thought. The one thing that changed my
whole world, so meticulously controlled up until now,
happened from that one small coincidence ― that on
September 7, 2013, on a stormy day, I by chance had
opened the window. It was a very peculiar thought.
And though I don't have a particular God I believe in,
there are times when I do feel a certain conviction toward
the term 'Divine Hand'.
I turned the switch off. The warning sound stopped. A
sudden silence fell over the room.
Heh.
I heard a faint laugh behind me. Instinctively I whirled
around, and gave a small cry. There was a boy standing
there, soaking wet. It took me a while to realize that he
was a boy. He had shoulder-length hair that almost hid his
small face. His neck and arms that protruded from his
short-sleeved shirt were thin. I couldn't tell whether he
was a boy or a girl, whether he was very young or older
than he looked. My eyes and conscience were too focused
on his left shoulder, which was stained red, to think about
anything else.
It was the colour of blood. I had never seen anyone
bleeding as profusely as he was. Instinctively I was
extending my hand out to him. The intruder's figure
vanished at my fingertips. At the same time, I felt an
impact, and I was slammed against the wall with a strong
force. I felt an icy sensation on my neck. They were
fingers, five of them, closing around my throat.
***

"Don't move," he said.

He was shorter than me. Choked from below, I
strained to get a look at his eyes. They were a dark, yet at
the same time, light, grey. I'd never seen a colour like that
before. His fingers clenched. He didn't look strong at all,
yet I was completely unable to move. It wasn't something
a normal person could do.
"I see," I managed to gasp. "You're used to doing this."

The pair of grey eyes were unblinking. Their gaze still

fixed, they grew calm like the gentle surface of the
ocean, and I could read no colour of menace, fear or
murderous intent from them. They were very quiet eyes. I
could feel my own panic subsiding.
"I'll treat your wound," I said, licking my lips. "You're
hurt, aren't you? I'll treat it."
I could see myself reflected in the intruder's eyes. For
a moment, I felt like I would get sucked into them. I
averted my gaze and looked down, and repeated myself.
"I'll treat the wound. We have to stop the bleeding.
Treat. You understand what I'm saying, right?"
The grip around my neck loosened slightly.
 "Shion."
My mother's voice carried over from the intercom. "You
have the window open, don't you."
I sucked in a breath. I felt alright. It was alright, I
reassured myself. I could talk with a normal voice.
"The window? ... Oh, yeah, it's open."
"You'll catch a cold if you don't close it."
"I know."
I could hear my mother laughing on the other end.
"You're turning twelve today and you're still acting like
a little boy."
"Okay, I get it ... Oh, mom?"
"What?"
"I have a report to write. Can you leave me alone for a
bit?"
"A report? Haven't you just been accepted into the
Gifted Curriculum?"
"Huh? Oh... well, I have a lot of assignments to do."
"I see... don't overwork yourself. Come downstairs at
dinnertime."

Cold fingers drew away from my throat. My body was

free. I stretched my hand out to restart the air control
system. I made sure to leave the security system off. If I
didn't, it would detect the intruder as a foreign presence,
and would set off a piercing alarm. If the person was
recognized as a legitimate resident of No. 6 that wouldn't
happen, but I couldn't imagine that this soaking intruder
would have a citizenship.
The window closed, and warm air began to circulate in
the room. The grey-eyed intruder half-collapsed into a
kneel, and leaned against the bed. He let out a long, deep
breath. He was weakened considerably. I took out the
emergency kit. First I took his pulse, then tore his shirt
open, and started cleaning the wound.
"This..."
I couldn't help but stare. I wasn't familiar with this
type of injury. It had carved out a shallow ridge in the
flesh of his shoulder joint.
"A bullet wound?"
"Yeah." It was a casual answer. "It just missed. What's
your term for this? A graze wound?"
"I'm no specialist. I'm still a student."
"Of the Gifted Curriculum?"
"Starting next month."
"Wow. High IQ, huh?"
There was a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. I lifted my
gaze from his wound, and looked him in the eye.
"Are you making fun of me?"
 "Making fun of? When I'm being treated by you? Never.
So what's your specialization?"
I told him I specialized in ecology. I had just been
accepted into the Gifted Curriculum. Ecology. It had the
least to do with how to treat a bullet wound. My first
experience. It was a little exciting. Let's see, what do I
have to do first? Disinfect, dress ... oh yes, I had to stop
the bleeding.
"What are you doing?"
He stared as I took a syringe out of the disinfecting
kit, and swallowed.
"Local anaesthesia. Alright, here goes."
"Wait, wait a minute. You're gonna freeze it, and then
what?"
"Sew it."
Supposedly I had said this with such a grin that I
looked like I couldn't have been enjoying myself more. It
was something I found out much later on.
"Sew it! Can you get any more primitive than that?"
"This isn't a hospital. I don't have state-of-the-art
facilities, and besides, I think a bullet wound is pretty
primitive itself."
The crime rate in the city was infinitely close to zero.
The city was safe, and there was no need for the average
citizen to carry a gun. If they did, it would only be for
hunting. Twice a year, rules were lifted for hunting season.
Olden-day firearms slung over their shoulders, hobbyists
would venture into the northern mountains. Mother didn't
like them. She said she didn't understand how people
could kill animals for enjoyment, and she wasn't the only
one. In periodic censuses, 70% of citizens expressed
discomfort at hunting as a form of sport. Killing poor
innocent animals―how violent, how cruel....
But the bleeding figure in front of me was no fox or
deer. It was a human.
"I can't believe it," I muttered to myself.
"Believe what?"
"That there are people who'll shoot at other people...
unless... don't tell me that someone from the hunting club
shot you by mistake?"
His lip curled. He was smiling.
"Hunting club, huh. Well, I guess you can call them
that. But they didn't shoot by mistake."
"They knew they were shooting at a human? That's
against the law."
"Is it? Instead of a fox, they just happened to be
hunting a human. A manhunt. I don't think it's against the
law."
"What do you mean?"
"That there are hunters, and the hunted."
"I don't get what you're talking about."
 "I figured you wouldn't. You don't need to understand.
So are you seriously going to give me a needle? Don't you
have spray-on anaesthetic or something?"
"I've always wanted to try giving a needle."
I disinfected the wound, and applied the anaesthetic
with three injections around the wounded area. My hands
shook a little from nerves, but somehow it went smoothly.
"It should start getting numb soon, and then―"
"You're gonna sew it."
"Yeah."
"Do you have any experience?"
"Of course not. I'm not going into medicine. But I do
have basic knowledge of vessel suturing. I saw it in a
video."
"Basic knowledge, huh..."
He drew a deep breath, and looked at me directly in
the face. He had thin, bloodless lips, hollowed cheeks,
and pale parched skin. He had the face of someone who
had not lived a decent life. He really did look like an
animal prey who had been chased relentlessly, exhausted,
with no place left to run. But his eyes were different.
They were emotionless, but I could feel a fierce power
emanating from them. Was it vitality? I wondered. I had
never met anyone in my life with eyes as memorable as
those. And those eyes were staring unblinkingly at me.
"You're strange."
 "Why would you say that?"
"You haven't even asked for my name."
"Oh, yeah. But I haven't introduced myself either."
"Shion, right? Like the flower?"
"Yeah. My mother likes trees and wildflowers. How
about you?"
"Nezumi."
"Huh?"
"My name."
"Nezumi... that's not it."
"Not what?"
That eye colour wasn't that of any rat. It was
something more elegant. Like... the sky just before the
crack of dawn ― didn't it look like that? I blushed,
embarrassed at catching myself spouting off like some
lame poet. I purposefully raised my voice.
"Right, here goes."
Remember the basic steps of the suture, I told myself.
Set down two or three stable threads, and use them as
support threads to make a continuous suture ... this must
be conducted with utmost care and precision ... in the
case of a continuous suture....
My fingers trembled. Nezumi watched my fingertips in
silence. I was nervous, but a little excited too. I was
putting what used to be just textbook knowledge into
action. It was exhilarating.
Suture complete. I pressed a piece of clean gauze onto
the wound. A bead of sweat slid down my forehead.
"So you are smart."
Nezumi's forehead was also damp with perspiration.
"I'm just good with my hands."
"Not just your hands. That brain of yours. You're only
twelve, right? And you're going into the Gifted Curriculum
of the highest educational institution. You're super elite."
This time, there was no tinge of sarcasm. Nor any hint
of awe. I silently put away the soiled gauze and
instruments.
Ten years ago, I was ranked highest in the city's
intelligence examination for two-year-olds. The city
provides anyone who ranks highest in skill or athletic
ability with the best education they could wish for. Until
the age of ten, I attended classes in an environment
outfitted with the latest facilities amongst other
classmates like myself. Under the eye of a roster of expert
instructors, we were given a solid and thorough education
of the basics, after which we were each provided with our
own set of instructors to move into a field of
specialization that was suited for us. From the day that I
was recognized as the highest ranker, my future was
promised to me. It was unshakable. No small force could
make it crumble. At least, that was how it was supposed
to be.

"Looks like a comfortable bed," Nezumi murmured,

still leaning against it.
"You can use it. But change first."
I dumped a clean shirt, a towel, and a box of
antibiotics into Nezumi's lap. And then, on a whim, I
decided to make cocoa. I had enough basic cooking
appliances in my room to make a warm drink or two.
"Not exactly fashionable, is it?" Nezumi sniffed as he
plucked at the plaid shirt.
"Better than a dirty shirt that's ripped and covered in
blood, if you ask me."
I passed him a steaming mug of cocoa. For the first
time this evening, I saw what looked like a flicker of
emotion in his grey eyes. Pleasure. Nezumi sipped a
mouthful and murmured softly―good.
"It's good. Better than your suturing."
"It's not fair to compare like that. I think it went
pretty well for my first try."
"Are you always like that?"
"Huh?"
"Do you always leave yourself wide open? Or is it
normal for all you Petri-dish elites to have zero sense of
danger?" Nezumi continued, holding the mug in both
hands.
"You guys can get along just fine without feeling any
danger or fear toward intruders, huh?"
"I do feel danger. And fear, too. I'm afraid of dangerous
things and I don't want anything to do with them. I'm also
not naive enough to believe that someone who comes in
through my second-floor window is a respectable citizen."
"Then why?"
He was right. Why? Why was I treating this intruder's
wound, and even giving him hot cocoa? I was no
cold-blooded monster. But I also wasn't teeming in
compassion and goodwill enough to extend a hand to
anyone who was injured. I was no saint. I hated dealing
with hassles and disagreements. But I'd taken this intruder
in. If the city authorities found out, I would be in trouble.
They might see me as someone lacking in sound judgment.
If that happened...
My eyes met with a pair of grey ones. I felt like I could
see a hint of laughter in them. Like they could see right
through me, everything I was thinking, and laughing at
me. I clenched my stomach and glared back at him.
"If you were some big, aggressive man, I would have
set the alarm off right then and there. But you were short,
and looked like a girl, and was about to fall over. So... So I
decided to treat you. And..."
"And?"
 And your eyes were a strange colour that I'd never
seen before. And they drew me in.
"And... I wanted to actually see what sewing a vessel
was like."
Nezumi shrugged, and drained the rest of his cocoa.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he ran a palm
across the bedsheets.
"Can I really go to sleep?"
"Sure."
"Thank you."
Those were the first words of gratitude I'd heard since
he had come into my room.
***
Mother was sitting on the couch in the living room,
engrossed in the flat-screen television mounted on the
wall. She noticed me coming in, and pointed at the
screen. A female newscaster with long, straight hair was
broadcasting a warning to all residents of Chronos.
A convict had escaped from the Correctional Facility in
the West Block, and was last seen fleeing into the Chronos
area. With regards to the hurricane as well, the area was
to be put in a lockdown that night. Everyone in the area,
excluding special cases, was forbidden to go outside of
their homes.
 Nezumi's face appeared on the screen. Underneath,
the words "VC103221" floated up in red letters.
"VC..."
I lifted a spoonful of cherry cake into my mouth. Every
year without fail, Mother baked a cherry cake for my
birthday. It was because Father had brought home a cherry
cake on the day I was born.
From what Mother said, my father was a hopeless case
who indulged lavishly in money-spending and women, but
above all, the bottle ― he was just a step away from being
an alcoholic. He had come home one day, in his
drunkenness having bought cherry cakes ― three of them
― that were so good she couldn't help but remember their
taste every time September 7th rolled around. My parents
divorced two months after the cherry cake. So
unfortunately, I have no memory of my hopeless case of a
father who was one step away from an alcoholic. But it
was no inconvenience. After being snagged as a top
ranker, Mother and I received the right to live in Chronos,
along with complete insurance of our living conditions,
including this modest but well-outfitted house. There was
no inconvenience at all.
"I just remembered, the yard's security system is still
turned off. No harm in leaving it off, right?"
Mother raised herself slowly. She had gained a lot of
weight recently, and it seemed like an effort for her to
move.
 "It's such a pain in the neck, that thing. Even a cat
jumping over the fence sets the alarm off, and people
from the Security Bureau come every single time to check.
What a hassle."
Almost as if in correlation with her gaining weight, she
had started to call things "a pain in the neck" more and
more often.
"But look at him, he's still so young. A VC... I wonder
what he's done."
VC. The V Chip. It was short for Violence-Chip, and
was originally a term used in America for a semiconductor
that was used to censor television content. With this chip,
you could set the television not to display violent or
disturbing scenes. If I remembered correctly, this term
was first used in the 1996 revision of the
Telecommunications Act.
But in No. 6, the term VC carried a heavier meaning.
Perpetrators of murder, attempted murder, robbery,
assault and other violent crime were subject to having this
chip planted inside their body. This enabled computers to
track every location, condition and even emotional
fluctuations of the convict. VC was a term we used for
violent criminals.
――But how did he take the chip out?
If the VC was still inside his body, his location could be
instantly pinpointed with the city's tracking system. It
should have been easily possible to arrest him without any
citizens noticing. To make news of his escape public, and
to enforce a lock-down would only mean that they hadn't
been able to find his location.
――Could that bullet wound have...? No, that can't be.
I'd never seen a bullet wound on a human before, but I
could tell it definitely came from being shot at a distance.
If he had blown the chip off himself along with the flesh of
his shoulder, he would have had a more serious wound,
with burns and all. Much more serious.
"Rather dull, isn't it? A shame, since it's your special
day."
Mother sighed as she sprinkled parsley flakes into the
pot of stew sitting on the table. "Dull" was another word
Mother used more often these days.
Mother and I were very similar. We were both a little
over-sensitive, and didn't like to socialize much. The
people around us were nice, so nice there was nothing bad
to say about them. My classmates, the citizens around us,
were genial, intelligent, and minded their manners. No
one raised their voice to insult anyone, or treated people
with hostility. There were no strange or devious people.
Everyone kept up such meticulously healthy lifestyles that
even slightly plump figures like my mother's were rare. In
this peaceful, stable and uniform world where everyone
looked the same, my mother grew fatter, every other word
"a pain in the neck" or "dull"; and I began to find the
presence of other people oppressing.
Break it.
 Destroy it.
Destroy what?
Everything.
Everything?

The spoon slid out of my hand and clattered to the

floor.
"What's wrong? You were miles away."
Mother peered inquisitively at me. Her round face
broke into a smile.
"That's rare of you, Shion, spacing out like that. Want
me to disinfect that spoon?"
"Oh, no. It's no big deal," I smiled back at her. My heart
was racing so fast it was hard to breathe. I gulped down
the mineral water in one go. Bullet wounds, blood, VC,
grey eyes. What were all these things? They had never
existed in my world until now. What business did they
have, so suddenly intruding into my life?
I had a fleeting premonition. A feeling that a great
change was coming. Just like a virus that enters a cell and
mutates it or destroys it altogether, I had a feeling that
this impostor would upset the world I lived in, and destroy
it entirely.
"Shion? Really, what's gotten into you?"
Mother peered into my face again, her expression
concerned.
 "Sorry, mom. That report is bothering me. I'm gonna
eat in my room," I lied, and stood up.

"Don't turn on the light."

A low voice commanded me, as soon as I entered the
room. I didn't like the dark, so I usually left the lights on.
But now it was pitch-black.
"I can't see anything."
"You don't need to."
But if I couldn't see, I couldn't move. I stood helplessly,
with the stew and cherry cake in my hands.
"Something smells good."
"I brought stew and cherry cake."
I heard a whistle of appreciation in the dark.
"Want some?"
"Of course."
"You're gonna eat it in the dark?"
"Of course."
I carefully inched my foot forward. I could hear a
quiet snicker.
"Can't even find your way in your own room?"
"I don't happen to be nocturnal, thanks. Can you see in
the dark?"
 "I'm a rat. Of course I can."
"VC 103221."
In the darkness, I could sense Nezumi freeze.
"You were all over the news. Famous."
"Hah. Don't I look so much better in real life? Hey, this
cake is good."
My eyes were getting used to the darkness. I sat on
the bed, and squinted at Nezumi.
"Can you get away alright?"
"Of course."
"What did you do with the chip?"
"It's still inside me."
"Want me to take it out?"
"Surgery again? No thanks."
"But..."
"It doesn't matter. That thing is useless now anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"The VC is just a toy. Disabling it is like a piece of
cake."
"A toy, huh."
"Yup, a toy. And let me tell you something, this city
itself is like a toy, too. A cheap toy that's pretty only on
the outside."
 Nezumi had polished off the stew and cake. He gave a
sigh of content.
"So you're confident that you're going to escape when
the city's on high-alert?"
"Of course."
"But there's a strict security check for trespassers who
aren't registered. There's an entire system in place
throughout this area for people like that."
"You think so? This city's system isn't as perfect as you
think it is. It's full of holes."
"How can you say that?"
"Because I'm not part of the system. You've all been
programmed nicely to believe that this holey fake mess is
the perfect utopia. Or, no, maybe that's what you guys
want to believe."
"I don't."
"Huh?"
"I don't think this place is perfect."
The words tumbled out of my mouth. Nezumi fell
silent. In front of me, there was only an expanse of
darkness. I couldn't feel his presence at all. He was right,
he was like a rat. A nocturnal rodent, hidden in the
darkness.
"You're strange," he said quietly, in a voice even lower
than before.
 "Really?"
"You are. That's not something for a super elite to say.
Aren't you in trouble if the authorities find out?"
"Yeah. Big trouble."
"You just took in an escaped VC and didn't report it to
the Bureau. ...If they find that out, that's even bigger
trouble. They're not gonna let you off easily."
"I know."
Nezumi suddenly grabbed my arm. His thin fingers dug
into my flesh.
"Do you really? I mean, it's not my problem what
happens to you, but if you end up being wiped out
because of me, I wouldn't like that. I'd feel like I did
something horrible..."
"That's considerate of you."
"Mama always told me, 'don't cause trouble for other
people," he said lightly.
"Then are you gonna leave?"
"No. I'm tired, and there's a hurricane outside. And I've
finally got a bed. I'll sleep here."
"Make up your mind."
"Papa always told me to separate my public manners
from my private feelings."
"Sounds like a great father."
 His fingers withdrew from my arm.
"I guess I was lucky that you were strange," Nezumi
said softly.
"Nezumi?"
"Hm?"
"How did you get to Chronos?"
"Not telling."
"Did you break out of the Correctional Facility and get
into the city? Is that even possible?"
"Of course it's possible. But I didn't get into No. 6 on
my own. Someone let me in. Not like I wanted to come
here, though."
"Let you in?"
"Yup. I was being escorted, you might say."
"Escorted? By the police? To where?"
The Correctional Facility was located in the West
Block, a high-security zone. Anyone who wanted to enter
No. 6 from there had to apply for permission from the
bureau. Those who had special entry permits were free to
go in and out, but new applicants I heard had to wait at
least a month for their form to even be accepted ― and
usually only less than ten percent are admitted. The
number of days allowed inside the city were also severely
restricted. Naturally, people began to accumulate in the
West Block. More people waiting for their permits to be
processed meant more accommodation and dining
establishments lined the streets to serve them. Still more
people poured in to work or make business there. I've
never been to the West Block myself, but I've heard that
it's a haphazard but lively place. The crime rate there is
high. The majority of VCs that fill the cells in the
Correctional Facility are residents of the West Block.
Sentences ranging from one year to life are given based on
age, criminal history, and the degree of violence of the
crime. There is no death penalty. The West Block served
as a sort of fortress that contained all people and things of
criminal nature, and prevented it from entering the city.
So for a VC to be escorted from there to within city walls
― where were they headed? And for what reason?
Nezumi crawled into bed.
"Probably the Moondrop."
"City Hall!" I exclaimed. "The centre of the city? Why?"
"Not telling. You probably shouldn't know, anyway."
"Why not?"
"I'm tired. Let me go to sleep."
"Is it something you can't tell me?"
"Can you guarantee that you can completely forget
everything once you've heard it? Pretend you didn't hear?
Outright lie that you don't know anything? You might be
smart, but you're not an adult. You can't lie as well as
that."
"I guess, but..."
 "So don't ask me in the first place. In return, I won't
tell anyone either."
"Huh? About what?"
"About how you were yelling out the window."
He had seen me. I could feel my face burning with
embarrassment.
"It totally caught me off-guard. I snuck into your yard
and was wondering what to do next, and suddenly the
window opened and you stuck your face out."
"Hey, wait a minute―"
"I was watching for what you'd do next, and then this
time you started screaming. I was caught off-guard again.
I don't think I've ever seen anyone screaming with a face
like―"
"Shut up!"
I lunged at Nezumi, but all I felt was the pillow as I
fell on top of it. In a flash, Nezumi was up. He slid a hand
under my arm, and with a quick twist, I was effortlessly
flipped over onto my back. Nezumi climbed over me and
pinned both my arms down with one hand. His legs
straddled my hips and pressed them down hard. For an
instant, I felt a tingle of numbness run through my legs all
the way down to my toes. It was impressive. In the space
of a split second, I had been trapped, immobilized, and
pinned to my own bed. With his free hand, Nezumi spun
the soup spoon around. He pressed the handle against my
throat, and lightly slid it across. He crouched so that his
lips were at my ear.
"If this was a knife," he whispered, "you would be
dead."
A muscle in my throat twitched. Amazing.
"That's amazing. Is there a trick to doing that?"
"Huh?"
"How can you immobilize someone so easily? Are there
special nerve points you press down or something?"
The force pinning me down relaxed. Nezumi sank
down on top of me, trembling ― he was laughing.
"I can't believe this. You're hilarious. What a natural,"
he gasped.
I circled my arms around Nezumi and stuck my hands
up the back of his shirt. It was hot. His burning skin was
damp with sweat.
"I knew it... you're catching a fever. You should take
those antibiotics."
"I'm fine... I just wanna sleep."
"If you don't bring your fever down it'll drain you even
more. You're burning up."
"You're pretty warm too."
Nezumi gave a deep sigh, and murmured
absent-mindedly.
 "Living people are warm."
He became still, and not long after, I could hear quiet,
measured breathing coming from him. With his feverish
body still in my arms, before I knew it, I too was drifting
off to sleep.
When I awoke the next morning, Nezumi was gone.
The plaid shirt, towel, and emergency kit were gone with
him.

-- END OF CHAPTER 1 --

CHAPTER 2
A Quiet Beginning

Index Case (First Discovered Example)

Male, aged 31 years. Employee at a biotechnology
firm. Engineer. Already dead upon discovery.
Confirmed address...

The man sank into a bench in the Forest park, and

sighed. He wondered how many times he had already
sighed that morning. He sighed, and looked at the head of
lettuce in his hand. It made him sigh again. Crisp, green
leaves firmly wrapped the head of lettuce ― as far as
quality went, it was first-class. He tore off a leaf, and
brought it to his mouth. It had a delicate taste, and the
texture was excellent. First-class, indeed. Then why
wasn't it selling?
 The lettuce was this man's piece of work. He had long
worked in the development of biotechnology to produce
fresh produce, namely leafy vegetables. He believed that
these safe, affordable and delicious bio-vegetables were
the solution to the rising food crisis, and would soon
become a mainstay in food distribution. He had the
confidence it would. But market sales were not doing as
well as he expected, and the man was losing hope. Buyers
seemed to prefer produce trucked in from the fields of the
Southeastern Blocks, rather than his bio-vegetables. The
trend was especially strong for leafy vegetables, like
cabbage and lettuce. If this continued, his boss had told
him, he would have to start thinking about discontinuing
production.
The base of his neck itched. It had been itching for a
while now. The man was prone to getting rashes when he
was tired. By tonight, a red rash would probably have
spread to his whole body. Too many unpleasant things
were happening today. He sighed again. The lettuce in his
hand felt heavy.
A beeping sound rang from his breast pocket. The
mobile telephone screen on his ID card lit up, and young
woman's face appeared.
"Greetings from the Municipal Information System.
This is to notify you of the results of the Children's
Examination you have registered for. To confirm your
account, please enter your Citizenship Number..." Before
the woman was even finished speaking, the man began to
key in his number. Today was the day of his two-year-old
daughter's Examinations. She was a bright and adorable
little girl. He had never dared to say it out loud, but he
secretly harboured an expectation that she might be
acknowledged as a top ranker.
"Thank you. We have confirmed your fingerprint and
registration number. Your information is as follows..." His
daughter's name was displayed, followed by a set of
detailed numbers. Weight, height, bust measurement,
condition of health, condition of nutrition, development
stage, ranking of various skills... all grades ranged in the
average A to C. She was neither overly behind, nor
outstandingly brilliant. That was it. The man gazed at the
screen for a moment, and then put his card back into his
pocket. He thought of his daughter's smile.
Oh well.
The man spoke to himself, and grinned at the head of
lettuce in his hand. Gifted or not, his daughter was still
his daughter. He cherished and adored her. And that was
good enough.
Suddenly, an idea sparked in his head. Had he,
perhaps, been too trapped in the idea of the best, most
perfect? It was true ― there was nothing to complain
about this lettuce. But maybe its perfection was also the
bane of it. If these identical, perfect heads of lettuce
were piled up row after row, consumers might not feel as
inclined to buy it. What if its perfection was actually
scaring consumers away?
 A cleaning robot was approaching. On its metallic body
sat a round head, and two arms extended to pick up trash,
and throw it inside the dust box located in the middle of
its body. Yes. This lettuce was like that robot. It was clean
and orderly, but too artificial. The vegetables that the
consumers wanted were more unique, more natural....
The lettuce rolled out of his hand. The man quickly bent
down to pick it up, and furrowed his brow.
Huh?
His fingers stiffened. His vision blurred. It was hard to
breathe. The robot picked the lettuce up, and paused. A
young male voice prompted him.
"May I dispose of this as trash?"
The man opened his mouth to speak, and was
overcome with a fit of coughing. Along with it, something
white spilled out of his mouth. Teeth. His teeth were
falling out.
"Are you sure? I will dispose of it now." The lettuce was
thrown into the dust box, and the robot moved away.
――Wait, help me....
The man reached out, and gave a cry of horror. The
whole length of his extended arm was riddled with spots.
His body grew heavy. The man staggered, and collapsed on
the ground between the bench and the hedges.

"Shion, take a look at this."

 It was past six when Shion was called over by his
co-worker, Yamase. The two were the only people at the
Park Administration Office. Together they operated and
maintained the three cleaning robots that patrolled the
park. Labour robots such as these were still at the
prototype stage, and even simple cleaning robots were
prone to breaking down. Operating them was a hassle too,
because they weren't good at distinguishing trash. After
recording an object as trash in the computer's memory the
first time around, it was supposed to recognize it
automatically every time afterwards. But the robots sent
back "indistinguishable object" errors all the time. There
was one half an hour ago, in fact. The image sent back to
him looked like a head of lettuce, and Shion had hesitated
for a moment about what to do. He had encountered
other things before that he wondered if he should call
trash, like a baby chick that had fallen out of a tree, or a
hat with a rather extravagant feathered decoration.
Lettuce, though, was a first.
"Something the matter?" He stood behind Yamase, who
was sitting at the operation panel.
"Hmm... Sampo's acting strange."
Yamase liked to call the three robots by their
nicknames. Sampo was Robot No. 3. Today, it was working
in a corner in the deeper recesses of the park. Sampo was
also the same one that picked up the head of lettuce. The
screen in front of them displayed a flashing red error
notifying them of an indistinguishable object.
"What's the image like?"
 "Yeah, about that. It's not very clear, but... it's
strange."
"Strange?"
Yamase was twenty ― four years older than Shion ―
and quiet by nature, seldom ruffled by anything. The calm
nature of his co-worker was one of the two reasons why
Shion liked this workplace. The other reason was that
because his job dealt mostly with machines, he didn't have
to talk to people.
"Here, you take a look," Yamase said, switching the
screen over to the camera.
"Can you focus in a little more?"
"Sure," came the answer, and Yamase's hands moved
swiftly over the control panel. The image became clearer.
"What......" Shion leaned in closer, and his breath
caught in his throat. Feet? A pair of trousered legs were
protruding from behind the bench. He could see a pair of
brownish shoes outfitting them.
"You think he's sleeping...?" Yamase's voice trembled.
"Any signs of life?"
"Huh?"
"Can you raise Sampo's sensors to the max level?"
Sampo was outfitted with several receptors that could
sense heat, sound, and texture. Yamase's voice shook
more violently.
"Oxygen, heat emission.... zero. No signs of life."
 "I'll go check," Shion said abruptly.
"I'm coming too."
They leapt on their bicycles, and pedalled as hard as
they could. Bicycles had become explosively popular in
the last few years, and statistics showed that the average
citizen owned 1.3 bicycles. Jogging shoes were also selling
well. Rather than convenient and effortless modes of
transportation, it seemed like more people were choosing
to walk, pedal, and otherwise use their own bodies.
Popular or not, for a student like Shion, something this
affordable that manoeuvred easily and didn't cost anything
to fuel was more of a necessity.
There were speed limits even for bicycles within the
park. Shion pedalled full-throttle through a path he would
usually only stroll down. Most vehicles nowadays were
equipped with a restraint mechanism that automatically
kicked in when the vehicle went over a certain speed.
Bicycles were no exception, and the mechanism was
usually built into the brake lever. But Shion's bicycle was
an older model, and wasn't equipped with speed
restraints. He would have to pay a fine if the
Transportation Bureau found out, but right now, he was
glad he could go as fast as he could.
He reached a quiet area secluded by trees. Beneath a
canopy of swishing leaves, Sampo was standing still. His
head joint, slightly tilted to the side, made him look
either pensive or baffled.
 "Sampo." In response to Shion's voice, its LED eyes lit
up green. Shion peered behind the bench, and froze.
"Shion, what's going on?" Yamase arrived slightly later,
and made a muffled noise in his throat.
The man lay behind the bench, as if to hide behind it.
His mouth was open and his eyes wide and staring. His
expression resembled surprise, rather than fear or pain.
He looked like he had seen something shocking moments
before he died. His hair was snowy white, and on his
cheeks there were spots that looked like senile plaque. His
wrinkles were pronounced. He was quite aged.
――That's a pretty flashy shirt for his age, though.
Shion remarked inwardly at the light pink shirt the
man was wearing.
"Yamase-san, can you contact the Security Bureau?"
"Huh? Oh... oh yeah, of course. Sure. Give me a
minute... Hello? Um, this is the Park Administration
Office..." Half-listening to Yamase's shaky voice as he
explained the situation, Shion reached out cautiously to
touch the man. Rigor mortis had spread to his whole body.
"That's impossible," Shion muttered almost
automatically in disbelief.
――It was too soon.
Rigor mortis usually began taking effect at least an
hour after death―two or three hours, in most cases. It
started at the jaw and spread gradually downwards to end
at the legs. Judging by that, this man would have been
dead at least several hours. But 30 minutes ago, this body
wasn't here. If it was, Sampo would have noticed it. He
knew that there had been a living person sitting on the
bench. After confirming the lettuce, Sampo's sensors had
registered a living human presence. Of course, he had no
evidence to prove that these two were the same person.
No, there was no way it could be. There was no way a
person who was alive 30 minutes ago could go through
complete rigor mortis in this short time. Then―was
someone else sitting on this bench, oblivious to the dead
man?
―Impossible.
Shion let go of the man's arm, which felt stiffer and
colder than Sampo's mechanical one. It was impossible.
Even if the man had lain dead without being noticed,
Sampo would have picked him up. Indeed, Sampo had
reacted to his presence, and sent an "indistinguishable
object" error just minutes ago. That meant that 30
minutes ago, there was no dead body here.
Shion thought he saw the body move. Of course, it was
just his imagination. But ― Shion stifled a cry of horror.
The jaw of the man, stiff only minutes ago, was starting to
loosen. He thought he could even smell a faint odour of
rot. The man was face-down, and behind his ears Shion
could see a blackish-green stain begin to spread. That was
definitely not there before. Certain not visibly to the
naked eye. Shion leaned in closer.
 "They're coming," Yamase sighed in relief. A Security
Bureau car was approaching soundlessly.

"So in the space of ten-some-odd minutes, you saw

complete rigor mortis―and it started rotting right
afterwards? That's impossible," Safu concluded simply,
after she had swallowed her mouthful of chocolate
doughnut. The fast-food joint where they sat, located
near the older parts of town was bustling with people of
every shade and colour.
"And if you're saying you smelled rot, then that means
decomposition by bacteria had already started, right? That
can't be. Even in the middle of the summer, it would take
at least 30 hours― right? ― for rigor mortis to dissipate
completely."
"Under a fixed set of conditions, it would take 36
hours in the summertime, 3-7 days in the winter, and 60
hours in the weather we're having now. That's what the
textbooks say," Shion replied, dropping his gaze from Safu's
face and taking a sip from his cup of tea. He felt
melancholic. And tired.
"Did the Security Bureau give you a hard time?" Safu
peered into his face. Her short, cropped hair framed her
delicate face and large eyes, which gave her a mysterious,
androgynous sort of allure. Safu was also among the
top-ranking in intelligence during her Examinations for
Two-Year-Olds. She was one of the several classmates he
studied with at the same school until the age of ten. And
presently, at age sixteen, she was the only one whom
Shion shared a close relationship with. She specialized in
physiology, and was set to go on exchange soon to another
city.
"It was an unnatural death after all, they must've been
suspicious. They probably interrogated the heck out of you
because of that, didn't they?"
Safu as Shion knew her in the classroom was a small,
quiet girl. She was probably still the same in the lab. But
when she was alone with Shion, Safu smiled often, ate
well, and relaxed her formal tone. Shion drained his tea,
and slowly shook his head.
"Nah, it wasn't as bad as I thought." Truth be told, the
Security Bureau's interrogation was surprisingly short. All
they did was seize the data that Sampo had recorded of
the body, and demand an explanation of the situation from
each of the two. The official spoke sharply when he found
out that Shion's registered address was located in the
old-town district, close to the West Block, but Shion was
used to that kind of treatment and thought nothing of it.
"Then why do you look so down about it? You're the
picture of the troubled young man right now."
"It... just doesn't seem right."
"The rigor mortis and its dissipation time?"
"Right. You said so yourself, Safu. It's not possible.
You're right. There was no condition present that could
have accelerated the rigor mortis and dissipation to that
extent."
"You mean no condition in terms of temperature or
humidity, or some other external influence, right? You
won't know until you perform an autopsy if there might be
an internal cause that accelerated it."
"Internal cause, huh... like what?"
"For example, if that person was severely debilitated,
he wouldn't have stiffened up as much, and it wouldn't
have lasted as long. In people with phosphorus poisoning
or in infants, they say it's almost nonexistent..."
"He was definitely not an infant, I can tell you that."
Safu sniffed indignantly and glared at Shion.
"It was just an example. You're as sarcastic as ever,
aren't you? That hasn't changed at all. But I guess there's
not much we can make of it if we don't have any data."
"Yeah...." Shion nodded vaguely, and unconsciously bit
his lower lip. Data, textbooks, manuals... there were
times when they became completely useless. What he
once believed to be so certain and absolute would be
overturned ever so easily, and crumble before him. He
experienced that four years ago.
***
"Shion." Safu put her elbows on the table, and folded
her hands over each other. She placed her chin on them,
and gazed at Shion.
 "I want to ask you something."
"What?"
"Four years ago ― why didn't you enroll into the Gifted
Curriculum?" It was as if her question saw right through
him. Shion broke off a piece of the blandly sweet apple
pie with his hands. The filling oozed out onto the plate.

"Why're you asking now?"

"Because I want to know. Even from an objective point
of view, you were a stellar student. You absorbed
information well and knew how to apply it. All the
teachers had high expectations for you."
"You're giving me too much credit."
"It's the truth. The numbers prove it. Do you want me
to show you your Skill Test results again from four years
ago?"
"Safu." He had a bitter taste in his mouth. It felt like it
was welling up from the very core of his body.
"What's the point of asking me this now? Four years
ago, they decided I wasn't qualified for the Gifted
Curriculum, so I lost all special privileges. I didn't choose
to not enroll, I couldn't. Now I work for Park
Administration to pay for my tuition, and I'm taking trades
courses from the Labour Bureau. But my attendance hasn't
been good so I'm not even sure if I can graduate. That's
reality. That's the truth you're talking about, Safu."
 "And why did you lose your privilege?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"But I'd love for you to tell me."
Shion finished licking the pie crust from his fingers,
and closed his mouth firmly. He didn't want to talk about
it. Or, rather, he couldn't think of any explanation that
would make Safu understand.
The reason was simple. He had taken a VC under his
wing for the night, and let him escape. The Security
Bureau had found that out. They had thought it suspicious
that his mother Karan had left the security alarm off, and
Shion had left the foreign-object detection system off in
his own room. The security systems of each house were
connected to the Central Administration Bureau's
computer system, and could be easily tracked.
Not one hour had passed after Nezumi had
disappeared when officials from the Security Bureau were
knocking on his door. It was the start of their long and
persistent interrogation.
You knew that he was a VC, then?
Yes.
Why didn't you call the police immediately?
Well....
Answer my question. You don't need to rush. Just
give us a clear and accurate answer.
It was because he looked about the same age as
me, and he was seriously injured. So I felt sorry
for him....
 So you sympathized with this VC, didn't contact
the police, but instead treated his wounds and
helped him escape.
It ended up as so, yes.
The Security Bureau's Investigations and Interrogations
official was named Rashi. He spoke gently throughout the
whole meeting, never once raising his voice or his fist in
violence. When their gruelling two-day investigation was
over and Shion was released, he even gave him a friendly
clap on the shoulder and said, "It's been hard, I know.
Thanks." But Rashi's eyes never smiled once, and Shion had
noticed. Even now, four years later, those unsmiling eyes
came into his dreams, their gaze boring into him. He
would awake in the morning, shaken, and soaked with
sweat.
He concealed a criminal and aided his escape. Shion
wasn't sentenced for this crime, but he was deemed
severely deficient in appropriate judgment skill and ability
to take action, and as a result all his special privileges
were removed.
When the hurricane passed, Shion and Karan were cast
out onto the streets, under a blindingly blue sky. They had
no place to live, nor any means to make a living. Shion's
Gifted Curriculum in ecology had become something more
far away and unreachable than the clouds that floated in
the sky above them.
A certainty, a definiteness he had in his hands only
yesterday, only moments before, had vanished. They had
scattered on the winds, more frail than the leaves he had
watched whipped around in the storm. It was a sense of
loss he was feeling for the first time in his life.
No. 6 had no welfare system. There was only a
hierarchical insurance system based on the level of
contribution that a select few of the citizens had to offer
to the city. Shion and Karan, far from contributing to the
city, were treated as people who had failed to serve their
responsibility as citizens. They were at the lowest possible
rank. That meant that, apart from being allowed to
remain in the city, they were excluded from any aid or
insurance.
Petri-dish elite. Nezumi had used that term that night,
and it was true. He realized the weight of it after he had
been thrown out of his enclosed and sheltered container.
No. 6 was none other than a caste society. The vertical
dynamic of the population was neatly ordered into a
pyramid structure. Once you tumbled off the top tiers, it
wasn't easy to crawl back up.

"Look at you, so serious." Safu laughed. "I get it. If it's

that hard to explain, then I won't ask."
"Sorry." Shion held up a hand and ducked his head in
apology. He was relieved that she didn't question him
further. The events were easy enough to explain. He did
want to tell Safu, for her to know about the dramatic
events that had turned his life upside-down. But what
Shion couldn't grasp, couldn't seem to find the words to
explain, were his own feelings. He even surprised himself
with what little regret he felt. He did feel shock at the
fragility of his position, and he did more than once find
himself curled up, unable to grapple with his sense of loss.
But now, after four years of living through it all, he
pondered. What would he do if he could turn back time to
that day, on his twelfth birthday? Would he have called
the police? Would he have set his security alarm off? The
answer was always "no".
Even if he had the chance to return to that night, he
would have done the same thing. He would have taken in
the wind and rain, and the intruder that came with it. He
felt it with certainty, and his certainty put him at unease.
It wasn't like he found his life now more satisfying than
before. He still had deep attachments to ecology, his
state-of-the-art learning environment, his comfortable life
― and shamefully enough, even the accolades, the words
of praise and encouragement, and gazes of admiration
that he was the centre of. But even so, he would have
done the same thing. If accepting Nezumi meant his own
destruction, then to destruction he would have trodden
again and again. He had no regrets about what he did. But
he couldn't explain why. Since that night, other hurricanes
came and went. Listening to the excited murmurings of
the leaves in the wind, Shion felt not regret, but a sense
of longing. It was a yearning to see him again.
Shion didn't have the confidence that he could explain
it to Safu well enough. He had no other option but to
remain silent.
 "Shall we go then, Shion?" Safu stood up. The
restaurant had become even more crowded, and now they
could barely hear each other's voice.
"I'll walk you to the station," Shion offered.
"Of course. You would have to be really tactless to let
a girl go home by herself, wouldn't you?"
"Oh come on," retorted Shion, "we both know how
strong you are, even though you might look small and
skinny. And you're speedy. I always thought you were more
fit for martial arts than physiology, actually."
"You know what, you're right. I've been told off once
about how I emotional I can get all of a sudden, when I'm
usually so quiet. Maybe I'm not meant for lab work after
all."
They walked side-by-side down the road to the
station. Excluding a few restaurants, late-night business
was banned in the city. In a matter of hours, the throngs
of people walking up and down the streets now would
disappear. Shion gave Safu's back a light push. Her last
words had sounded somewhat dejected to his ears.
"Is that supposed to be the voice of someone who's
passed the exams and is about to go on exchange?"
Safu raised her face, and grinned.
"Jealous, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"That's awfully truthful of you."
 "Be true to yourself, be kind to others. It's been my
motto these days."
"Liar."
"Huh?"
"You're not jealous at all."
Shion stopped. Safu was staring at him challengingly.
Just as he was about to call her name, he was suddenly
grabbed by the shoulder from behind.
"Excuse me." Shion turned around. A man was standing
there, smiling. He was about a head shorter than Shion,
and was wearing a Security Bureau uniform. It was navy
blue from top to bottom and made of a special material
called superfibre, which had impressive qualities for its
unremarkable appearance. With durability that was
tenfold that of steel, it served the purpose of a
bullet-proof vest well enough; at the same time, it let air
pass through easily so the garment could breathe. There
was an increasing number of these uniformed Law
Enforcement officers from the Security Bureau the closer
they neared to the West Block. Shion calmly brushed the
man's hand off his shoulder and spoke.
"Can I help you?"
"Ah, well... I just want to ask you two a couple
questions... how old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"The both of you?"
 "Yes."
"You do know that those under eighteen are prohibited
from being outdoors after nine?"
"Yes, but it's still before eight."
"Shion," Safu whispered sharply. She was telling him
not to argue. But the Security Bureau uniform standing
before him brought back to memory the eyes of that
interrogation officer who called himself Rashi. Instead of
feeling intimidated, Shion was compelled to retaliate.
"Your ID cards, the two of you, please." Perhaps he had
taken notice of Shion's rebellious attitude. The man wiped
the smile clean off his face and demanded their
identification cards expressionlessly. Safu passed her silver
card to him. Shion silently did the same.
"Your Citizenship Numbers, in order."
"SSC-000124GJ."
"Qw-55142."
The man pulled the cards out of his portable
card-reader, and turned to give Safu a slight bow.
"A Gifted Curriculum student like yourself shouldn't be
roaming these areas at such a late hour. I advise you to go
home."
"I was on my way... I was walking to the station."
"Let me walk you there."
 "No thank you. He's going to." Safu clung to Shion's
arm.
"I'll take her," said Shion shortly. "That's where we were
headed in the first place. Let's go, Safu."
Snatching the cards from the officer's grasp, Shion
grabbed Safu's hand, and strode swiftly away. When he
turned around some moments later, the man had already
disappeared into the bustling crowd.
"That scared me." Safu clutched her chest. "I've never
been scolded by the Security Bureau."
"It happens all the time," replied Shion. "If you didn't
have your Gifted Curriculum ID, he would have grilled us
even more."
"Really?"
"Really," said Shion grimly. "Like the train that you're
about to get on. With that ID card, you can bypass the
General car and ride in Special Class. That's the kind of
city we live in. Everyone's sorted out into categories based
on skill, wealth, and all these other factors."
"Don't talk about it like that," Safu protested. "You
don't 'sort' people like you 'sort' garbage and merchandise.
People are people. They're humans."
"Safu, in this city it doesn't matter whether we're
people or not. It matters how useful you are to the city.
That's it."
"Shion...."
 "Back there you called me a liar. I'm not. Of course I'm
jealous. You've got all your privileges, and you're allowed
to study and experiment to your heart's content. I'm
envious, Safu. I resent you, even. You have everything that
I don't have."
Shion paused, and let out a long breath. He had gone
too far. It was shameful. Low. Embarrassing. Pathetic. He
clicked his tongue at himself in frustration.
Safu sighed as well.
"You're still a liar."
"Huh?"
"Did you not hear me? You're. Still. A. Liar. I can add
'big' on top of that, if you like. You're only pretending to
be envious of me. Or do you not even realize that you're
lying? What a dense boy I've got on my hands."
"Safu, what―" Shion began in exasperation.
"If you were really envious and resentful, you wouldn't
be able to stand going out to eat with me. But you, you're
laughing, eating, making conversation, cracking jokes like
it's nothing."
"Hey, I have some pride too. Obviously I'm not going to
be openly jealous."
"Shion," said Safu firmly. "My specialization is in
cognitive functions, brain activity and their relationship
with hormones."
"I know."
 "Good, because if you didn't, I would've been mad. I
haven't told you this over and over for nothing. Anyway,"
she continued briskly, "say you are hiding your resentment
and pretending to be enjoying your time with me. It would
be stressful, right?"
"I guess so..." Shion replied dubiously.
"It would be stressful. And when you feel stress, your
adrenal glands release steroid hormones called
corticosteroids that influence your brain. And what it does
to brain activity is―"
"Okay, Safu, I get it." Shion interrupted. "That's
enough. Save your lecture for next time and I'll listen
carefully―"
"Listen to me. You're not feeling any stress. You're not
resentful of me at all. Shion, what is it that you want to
do?"
"Huh?"
"If you do want to continue your studies, you can be
resentful of me. But you're not. You said I have everything
you don't have. Then what is it that you have? You can't
say you have nothing," she added hastily. "People who have
nothing ― no ― people who think they've got nothing left,
can't smile like you do. Or talk like you do. For your
emotions not to have any influence on your actions, to
have that level of perfect control, it takes special
training. You're not getting any special training. I don't
think you're an overly emotional person, but I also don't
think you have the ability to control 100% of your emotions
either. The only reason you can have a regular
conversation with me and laugh around me is because you
have a certain level of emotional security."
"Safu, what you just said is all armchair theory.
Humans have complex emotions. They're not like lab rats.
I don't think you can explain how emotions influence
people's actions that easily. It's arrogant to believe that
science can explain everything about human nature."
Safu shrugged. They were approaching the station.
"I didn't know you wanted to become a writer."
"Safu," Shion said wearily.
"Then I'll say this in a literary context. Emotional
security... so I'm talking about hope, or dreams. You have
those. That's why you don't feel the need to resent me.
Shion, what is it that you hope for?"
***
Hope. He repeated the word silently. It was a word he
hadn't used for years. It was neither sweet nor bitter, but
it slowly warmed him from deep inside of his body.
Hope. What do I hope for?

His promised future had collapsed. What was left to

him now were his mother, the meager wages from his job,
and his own sixteen-year-old body. What hope resided in
those? He wasn't sure. But he was sure that he hadn't
completely lost hope either.
 They entered the station. The old-town district where
Shion lived was located adjacent to the West Block and
the city border, and functioned as a sort of buffer zone
between the city centre and the West Block. It was called
Lost Town. A far cry from the tranquility of the city
centre, it was a squalid place, dense with people. The
station they were in was also very crowded. The faint
smell of deep-fried food and alcohol wafted in the air.
"I'm fine from here." Safu stopped. There was a black
winged insect on her shoulder. Brushing it away, Shion
asked a nonchalant question.
"Be careful. Oh, when are you off for your exchange
again?"
"In two days."
"Two days!" Shion exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me
sooner?"
"Because I didn't want to. Would you have thrown me a
farewell party if I did?"
Safu jutted her chin out defiantly.
"Shion, I want to ask something from you."
"Sure, if I can manage to get it to you in time..."
"Your sperm."
Safu looked Shion in the eyes as she said those words.
She didn't blink once. Shion gaped at her open-mouthed.
"Did you hear me? I want your sperm."
 "Uh― what? Safu... um―"
"Out of all the people I know, you would probably be
the most superior sperm donor. Your sperm and my ovum.
Don't you think it would produce the most perfect child? I
want it, Shion. I want your sperm."
"Artificial insemination needs permission from the
city," Shion answered cautiously.
"Getting permission would be easy. The city
encourages artificial insemination between people who
possess excellent DNA and superior skills."
Shion swallowed, and turned away. The winged insect
crossed his line of vision, buzzing incessantly. Irritation
welled up inside him.
"Safu, I don't know if I told you this, but I've never
known my father. I don't know his personality, his stature,
or if he had any illnesses."
"I know. But parents don't matter. Ninety-nine percent
of the human genome has been decoded already. I can find
out anything I need to know about your genetic
information."
"And then... if you do get the information, and there's
something in there that you don't want, what are you
going to do?"
"Well..."
"Safu, what are you trying to get at? Do you think a
human being is entirely what his DNA base sequence tells
us he is? Sure, you can look up my DNA, analyze my genes,
but what's that going to tell you about me? You talk about
having kids like it's easy, but―"
"I know a lot more about you than you think!"
Safu's voice cut him off shrilly. People turned their
heads as they passed.
"We've been together since we were two. I know what
kind of person you are, what you like to do... I know. I
know, and I'm still telling you this― you're the one who
doesn't know anything."
"What?"
Safu mumbled something, but he couldn't catch it. He
bent toward her slightly so he could hear better.
"I want to have sex with you."
Her words rang clear in Shion's ears.
"Safu...."
"I don't want your sperm. I don't want artificial
insemination. I don't care about having kids or not. I want
to have sex with you. That's it."
"Wait, uh― wait a minute... Safu, I―"
"Right now."
Shion inhaled. The greasy scent of fried food wafted
into his nostrils. The clock chimed eight o'clock.
"Not now."
 "Why not? Because you're not interested in me? Or not
interested in sex?"
"I'm interested in both. But... I don't want to do it, not
now, with you."
"So it's because it's with me?"
"No― my body would probably respond no problem.
Even now I'm... but― but that's why I don't want to. I don't
want to sleep with you on a spur of the moment."
"You know that's like saying you've never seen me in
that way before."
"Yeah. I always thought of you as a friend."
"I can't believe it."Safu sighed in exasperation. "Why
are you such a kid? Whatever. I'm going home."
"Safu, in two years―"
"Hm?"
"Your exchange is for two years, right? When you come
back, I'll ask this time."
"If I want to have sex?"
"Yeah."
"You're a bonafide idiot if I ever saw one. I don't know
how you could have come this far being that laid-back."
"Stay safe. Don't work too hard."
"Oh, you can count on me working hard. I'll work so
hard, it'll keep all the boys away."
 With a casual wave of her hand in farewell, Safu
turned around, and gave a small shriek. A small grey
animal darted past Safu's feet and scurried up Shion's
body.
"A mouse!"
A small mouse about the size of Shion's pinky sat on his
shoulder, twitching its nose.
"I'm surprised to see mice in this city. But it is kind of
cute," Safu mused.
"Pretty friendly, too."
The mouse brought its face close to Shion's ear.
"Still a natural," it whispered.
He felt an electric shock run through him. He grabbed
at the mouse, but it slipped through his fingers, bounded
off his shoulder and shot toward the station exit. True,
this was an older district―but Lost Town was still within
city limits, and mice were rare. The Health and Hygiene
Bureau saw to the complete removal of all pests, animal
or insect. People weren't used to seeing the mouse that
sped past their feet. Shrieks of surprise and bursts of
anxious buzzing rose from the crowd.
And at the very end of it, Shion saw a pair of grey
eyes. It was for a fleeting instant. A jolt pierced through
his body again.
"Nezumi!"
"Shion, what's wrong?"
 "Safu, you can make it home by yourself, right?"
"What? Of course. I was just about to, wasn't I? What's
wrong? Why are you so agitated?"
"Sorry―"
After they parted here, he wouldn't see Safu again for
two years. He knew he had to give her a proper
sending-off. At the very least, watch her retreating back
until it disappeared into the jostling crowd. Whether they
were going to have sex or not, didn't change the fact that
Safu was important to him. He knew well that this was
nearly not the proper farewell that she deserved. He
knew. But what he thought he knew so well was swept
away instantly. His body moved on its own, defying his
rational thought. Yes, he had experienced this four years
ago― even though he knew reason always had the right
answer.
Turn the security system on. Notify the Security
Bureau. Remove the foreign presence. He had defied all of
it. It was the same now. He was letting his emotions
control his actions.
It had begun raining outside. Raindrops pelted his
cheek. In the crowd of people briskly walking to and fro,
not a familiar face was to be seen.
"Shion!" Karan greeted her son at the door, and
widened her eyes. "You're soaked through! What were you
doing?"
"Walking."
 "In this rain? From where?"
"The station."
"And why on earth did you let yourself get this wet?"
"I was cooling off."
"Cooling off, hmm? Laid back as always, aren't you?"
Safu has used the same words only moments before.
Shion chuckled to himself and began towelling off his hair.
It had suddenly grown very cool since it started raining;
the old kerosene fan heater was humming to keep the
room warm. Karan yawned. It was already time for her to
sleep. Tucked away in a corner of Lost Town, Karan ran a
modest bakery. It was small, with only one showcase. But
people seemed to be drawn to the aroma of freshly-baked
bread that wafted from the doors early each morning, and
business was booming. She opened early, and so slept
early too. It was rounding nine o'clock, which for Karan
was like midnight.
"I'm thinking of increasing the batch of butter rolls
tomorrow. And maybe be a little adventurous and try
selling some simple cakes, on top of the muffins that we
sell. What do you think?"
"Like cherry cake?"
"That's the one. A little something that people can buy
as a snack, but a little more higher-end than bread or
muffins. A small souvenir for a special day, or something
like that."
 "That sounds great," Shion enthused.
"Don't you think so? And I think having cakes in the
display case would liven things up a little."
Shion nodded, and began to leave the living room. In
this house, they didn't have the luxury of private
bedrooms. Karan slept in a corner of the living room, and
Shion in the storage cellar.
"Shion," his mother called. He turned around.
"Did something happen?"
"Huh?"
"Did something happen to you that would make you
need to cool off?" Karan continued without waiting for
Shion's answer. "When you came home, you seemed a little
dazed. You didn't even seem to realize you were wet.
And... even now―"
"Now?"
"You look absent-minded, but then again a little
agitated... it's a strange face you've got on. Do you want
me to bring a mirror?"
Shion exhaled shortly.
"Someone died in the park today."
"What? In the Forest Park? There was nothing in the
news about that."
Nothing in the news? Did that mean that the man died
of natural causes? Although sudden, maybe it was
explainable. Not enough to make the news, just a normal
death ― Shion shook his head. Of course not. The time it
took for that body to become rigid, the expression on his
face, the green stain. It was all too abnormal.
To the Security Bureau he had only explained what he
found at the scene. He pretended that he hadn't noticed
the rigor mortis or the stain―he felt like he had to. He
didn't know why, but a voice inside him had told him to
play dumb, to lie. Just as a small animal might sense
danger and hide itself, his instinct had warned him.
Instinct - there it was again. He was acting not on reason,
but on whim. He was turning away from logic and sense
only too easily to succumb to instinctive emotion. Shion
sighed deeply. It was a little hard to breathe.
"And that's why you're agitated?"
"Well, yeah. I've never seen a dead body before."
I'm lying, mom. I saw those eyes again today. I saw
Nezumi. I have a feeling that something's going to
happen. That's why―
Karan smiled and wished him good night. It was a
gentle smile. He wished her good night in answer, and left
the living room.
Karan's stature was still plump, but she looked much
younger than before. It seemed like she hadn't taken the
move from Chronos to Lost Town too harshly. She often
smiled as she talked about how enjoyable it was to bake
bread, and how uplifting it was when people bought them.
It wasn't just out of kindness or a desire to reassure her
son. Karan wasn't despairing at all about their life here. In
Chronos, everything was given to them, but their life in
Lost Town was something Karan had built up with her own
hands. That was why Shion didn't want to destroy it. He
didn't want to uproot her entire life as he did four years
ago. He didn't want to get her involved in trouble again.
Shion collapsed into bed. He felt a faint chill, and
there was a dull pain at the back of his head. When he
closed his eyes, a flurry of images rushed past his eyelids.
The greenish stain, the abandoned lettuce, the pink shirt,
Safu's face. I want to have sex. The mouse that had
scurried up his body. Still a natural. The core of his body
grew hot. His heartbeat quickened. It was no dream. It
wasn't an illusion. Nezumi did exist there, in the crowd
people at the station. That was some flashy appearance
you made back there. "Jerk," he muttered under his
breath. What was he supposed to expect from that short
appearance? What was Nezumi planning to do?
Shion sat up in bed. Safu aside, were the body in the
park and Nezumi somehow connected? On the same night
that he discovered the body, Nezumi appeared. Was that a
coincidence? If they were related, how were they―
A chime interrupted his thoughts. The mobile
telephone on his ID card was ringing. It couldn't be. He
knew it couldn't be Nezumi, but his heart raced. His
fingers trembled as he grasped the card. White letters
flashed on the display―Safu. He tapped the Talk button
and the screen switched to Safu's face.
"Shion, were you asleep?"
 "Ah―um, no."
He had forgotten. He should be the one calling her
back, and to finish saying the farewell that he had left
hanging.
"Safu, I'm sorry about back there. I―"
"That person was that important to you, huh?"
"Huh?"
Safu's face had broken into a wry smile. It was both
serene and beautiful.
"I've never seen you look like that before. Do you know
what kind of expression you had on?"
"Huh? Wait―did I look that bad?"
"It was very interesting indeed. It kept me entertained
the whole time. First, it was astonishment, and
then―well, let's see―what could you call it? Joy? Raptness,
maybe. Enough to wipe everything else out of your mind.
And then you beelined out of the station, leaving me
behind all by myself. Sad story, huh? I know."
"I'm so sorry. I can't apologize enough."
"I'll say. You're welcome. At least I got to see a new
side of you―I've never seen you with that face before. So,
Shion, who is it that makes you look like that? Was she
that important to make you drop everything and chase
after her?"
"Yeah."
 He even surprised himself at his prompt affirmation.
"Um, Safu, don't get me wrong. It's not a girlfriend, or
anything like that. Uh―I can't really explain it well, but..."
"Also my first time seeing you stumble over yourself
trying to explain things. That's alright if you have a
girlfriend. I don't mind if you've already got someone on
your mind. ―No, that was a lie. Look at me, I always try to
put up a strong face in any situation. It's a bad habit of
mine."
"That's not true," Shion retorted. "You're always
truthful to yourself."
"Only in front of you." Didn't you realize? Safu
continued, and her expression grew serious.
"Safu, really, um― take care of yourself. When we
meet in two years―"
"I love you, Shion. More than anyone else."
The line died without waiting for his answer. He could
hear the pitter-patter of rain. He thought he saw
something move in a corner of the room.
"Nezumi?"
Amidst the bags of flour and sugar piled in the storage
room, only the sound of rain echoed. Shion hugged his
knees and sat silently in the darkness, lending an ear to its
continuous drizzle. The rain showed no signs of either
worsening or letting up, and continued through the rest of
the night.
-- END OF CHAPTER 2 --
CHAPTER 3
Flight for Life

Shion inserted his ID card into the card reader of the

Park Administration Office. The door opened soundlessly,
and the air filtration system and temperature control
started up. There was no one inside the office yet. It was
odd that Yamase was not here already. Shion turned on the
switch of the park administration system. It was the start
of another work day.
"Good morning." An image of City Hall, The Moondrop
appeared along with the greeting. "Your unwavering
allegiance to the city―"
He placed his hand on the image of the Moondrop and
recited slowly.
"I pledge hereon and ever my unwavering allegiance to
the city of No. 6."
"Our gratitude for your loyalty. Engage in your day's
labour with sincerity and pride as a good citizen of the
City." The Moondrop disappeared, and was replaced with a
report of the living conditions of all the organisms in the
Park. Shion breathed a sigh of relief. The daily allegiance
rituals had become a source of discomfort for him.
Although it was among the farthest branches, Park
Administration Office was still under direct affiliation with
the City. All employees were required to pledge allegiance
to the City every morning. If they refused, they would lose
their job.
It was no big deal. All he had to do was cast his hand
over the display, and recite the same words. Shion tried to
brush it aside, but the worn and banal words of the
pledge, and the sheer ridiculousness of the ritual itself
always filled him with disgust. And for repeating this banal
and ridiculous ritual every morning, Shion's injured pride
stung. He remembered Safu complaining of the same
thing. The laboratory where Safu worked also operated
under the City, so an allegiance ritual was mandatory as
well.
Shion lightly blew on his palm. It was no use
complaining. As long as he was to be a citizen of No. 6, as
long as he was going to continue living here, it was no use
fretting about pride. So he kept telling himself.
The office door opened, and Yamase came in. Behind
him stood a woman who looked about in her twenties.
Yamase called over to her softly, but she shook her head,
bowed slightly, and left in a hurry. She was a small woman
with long hair.
"I see..." Shion stopped his hands over the control keys
and turned to stare into Yamase's square, angular face.
"It's rare to see you with a woman, Yamase-san. Could
she be―" He went on to say 'your girlfriend', but promptly
shut his mouth. Yamase was sitting at his control panel,
reciting the pledge of allegiance to the city. His expression
was tense. Shion could tell from his face that this wasn't
the right time for teasing.
"Yamase-san, is something the matter?"
"Shion, that lady..." Yamase paused, and turned to
Shion. "She's the wife of yesterday's body."
"Huh?"
That would make them a couple of enormous age
difference. No. 6 had no strict regulations for marriage, as
long as it was between two consenting registered citizens.
Even if the couple had not gotten an official marriage
certificate, it was not a problem. The problem was more
with whether they would be able to prepare an
appropriate childrearing environment if they were to have
children. Childbirth was not permitted for people who
didn't meet the city's criteria of standards. Shion didn't
know what those criteria were. Nevertheless, people were
free to marry, and a couple or two with this much age
difference was nothing out of the ordinary.
"She says they're only three years apart," said Yamase
quietly. Shion didn't understand. "He was three years older
than her," Yamase repeated.
"Three years... but―"
Yamase nodded. "That body was only 31 years old."
"No way!" exclaimed Shion incredulously. "That can't
be. That body was an elderly man, no matter how you look
at it."
 "Yeah," said Yamase heavily. "I was surprised too. But
the body hasn't come back to the madam since. They're
keeping it over at the Bureau."
"Keep? So you're saying an autopsy wasn't enough to
find out how he died?"
"I guess that's what it means."
They couldn't find the cause of death. Shion couldn't
imagine a cause of death that No. 6's front-line medical
technology couldn't decode. Medicine had long had full
bearings on organism analysis to the nanometre scale. An
average cell measured approximately 20 micrometres. A
micrometre was 1000 times larger than a nanometre. Any
disease at the cellular level should be more than easy to
find and analyze.
Shion felt a chill. Abnormal rigor mortis, its
dissipation, and the body it left that was unmistakably
that of an elderly man―what did it all mean? He didn't
know. At present, Yamase's low voice spoke again.
"The madam was told that he died from an accident in
the park, and to wait for further notice until they figure
out his cause of death. She came here today asking if she
could at least see where the accident happened."
"Accident? Bullshit!"
"You're right, it's a load of bull. Them telling her it was
an accident is a huge lie," Yamase replied, and scratched
his neck vigorously in irritation.
 "Yamase-san, why does the Bureau have to lie about it?
And isn't it strange that they can't seem to find a cause of
death?"
"Yeah... this incident is full of unanswered questions."
"If the Bureau can't explain it, could it be a cause of
death that's never had any previous case?"
"No previous cases?"
"That man died from something that was completely
unknown up until now, something no one's experienced
before ― is that possible?"
"Shion! What are you..." Yamase trailed off. His face
was pale. Shion figured his own face must look the same.
"Let's have some coffee, shall we?" Yamase suddenly
stood up as if he couldn't bear the tense atmosphere any
longer. Shion hastily stood up after him.
"Oh, let me―"
"No, I'll do it. You like lots of milk in yours, right
Shion?"
"Thanks." Shion paused. "So―but anyone could look at
the body and tell it wasn't an accident, right?"
Yamase turned toward him. His usual gentle face was
strangely contorted.
"Yamase-san?"
"Shion, bodies can be modified."
"Huh?"
 "I―" Yamase stammered. "Before I started working
here, I used to work at the Municipal Central Hospital. My
job was to modify dead bodies."
"Modify―what do you mean?"
"I wasn't planning to tell this to anyone, but..." Yamase
hesitated. "Shion, have you ever seen a dead body before?"
"Once, at a funeral for my grandfather on my mother's
side. I saw his body in a coffin at the viewing."
"How was it?"
"How...? He looked peaceful. Don't they all look like
that?"
"You think so?"
"Are you saying they don't?"
Medical technology had made enormous progress not
only in the fields of disease treatment and prevention, but
also in the removal of pain. Technology of the present day
could remove anything, whether it be from accident or
illness, ranging anywhere from pain during surgery, to
breathing trouble, severe pain and seizures experienced in
the moments leading up to death. People ended their lives
free of suffering, and all died with peaceful expressions on
their faces. That was what Shion had been told.
Yamase handed him a cup of coffee. He lowered his
gaze and bent his neck to scratch it, as if to avoid Shion's
gaze.
 "All this about front-line medical technology goes right
over my head," Yamase said slowly. "But all I know is
that... no matter how much technology develops, it's
impossible for everyone to die a peaceful death. That
much I'm sure of." Yamase's face contorted even more. The
hand which held his own mug trembled slightly.
"I worked for a long time in the basement of the
Central Hospital. My job was to modify the bodies that
were brought there."
"Yamase-san, so what's this about modifying bodies?"
"It's an easy job. When the body's been confirmed dead
and brought down, I would coat its face with a special
chemical and cover it with this apparatus. And then―"
"Then?"
"Then it would smile. All of them did. They would all
look like they were having some wonderful dream."
Shion almost let out a cry. It was just as Yamase had
said. He was nine years old when he saw his deceased
grandfather's face, and he had been smiling.
"It's almost like he's having a wonderful dream," he
remembered his mother whispering through her tears.
"Of course," Yamase continued, "the majority of
people that die don't need to be modified. They're all
people that have been able to get proper palliative care,
and have really died a peaceful death. But it's still only a
majority ― not the entire population. There are a small
number of people, though, that die tragically, their faces
all stiffened up in pain."
"For example―?"
"Huh?"
"What kind of people die like that, Yamase-san?"
Yamase exhaled shortly, and drained the rest of his
coffee. "I don't know. My job was only to coat the faces
with the chemical and cover them with the apparatus. I
didn't know why these people had to die with such
suffering and sadness in their faces, and no one would tell
me." He paused. "But― there was this one time, a
middle-aged man was brought in... I usually have to wipe
the face before applying the chemical, and I noticed that
the man had tear streaks on his face, and ― and I thought
― maybe he'd been crying right up until he died. I
wondered if he'd been crying the whole time while he was
dying. And then I just had this thought that― maybe this
man had killed himself."
"Killed himself? A citizen of this city―?"
"You think it's impossible?" Yamase asked flatly.
"Of all causes of death in the last ten years, suicide
has only been 0.05%. And most have been impulse cases
due to temporary psychosis, so they technically don't even
fall into that criteria. According to the city's statistics,
anyway."
"According to what the city has published as statistics,
yes," Yamase rephrased.
 Despair did not exist in No. 6. All citizens lead a
secure and hospitable life. There was no starvation, no
war, no anguish. Not even any pain in the moments leading
up to death.
You guys have been programmed to think this holey
mess is the ideal utopia. Nezumi had spat these words out
four years earlier. Now, Shion was experiencing its reality
word for word. Lost Town was full of people who had
abandoned hope. They had enough to eat, and enough to
keep living. But they had no hopes for the future. Lost
Town wasn't the only place―maybe the same could be said
for Chronos. How many people could die with a real smile
on their face, and say they've lived a fulfilling life?
"Yamase-san, are you saying that the Bureau is
manipulating information?"
"Shion!" Yamase warned, knitting his brow and shaking
his head violently. "Don't say stuff like that out loud. We've
been hired by the City. We've pledged allegiance. We
shouldn't be talking about our suspicions. I don't know
what's gotten into me. Forget everything I said. Just forget
it."
"Alright," Shion replied uncertainly.
"Right then, let's get Sampo and the rest moving.
Where were the main regions today?"
"Areas JK02 to ER005. Mainly cleaning up foliage."
"Alright, let's get to work."
 "Right you are." They began to tap the control keys for
the robots. Yamase gave a short grunt of pain.
"Yamase-san?"
"Ah, it's nothing. It's just―my fingers are strange."
"Hurt?"
"No, no... it's like they feel stiff..." He stood up
unsteadily, and then suddenly crumpled to the floor, his
face in his hands.
"Are you alright?"
"My eyes... I can't see... they're blurry..."
In the midst of reaching out to support Yamase, Shion
froze. He couldn't move. Yamase's hair was turning white.
Spots were beginning to spread over the hands that
covered his face.
"Shion... what's―what's happening to me...?"
Frozen in horror, Shion watched as Yamase aged with
astonishing speed before him. He curled up as he lay on
the ground, and his back contracted in violent spasms. He
was having trouble breathing. Shion lunged for the
emergency intercom.
"We have an emergency. An ambulance, please.
Quickly!"
Yamase coughed weakly. What was happening? What
was going on? Shion couldn't believe what was unfolding
before him. Everything seemed surreal. His mind was in a
panic ― he didn't know what to do, how to deal with it.
But still another part of him remained unsettlingly calm.
Observe. Analyze. Watch. Don't take your eyes off of him.
Take in everything you can and absorb it as knowledge.
Shion swallowed, and lifted Yamase in his arms. After
a few weak spasms, Yamase's body was still.
"Yamase-san?" His face was unmistakably that of an old
man. And it was no longer that of one who was living.
Shion checked his pulse and pupils. Yamase's body grew
colder by the minute. His mouth was open as if in
astonishment, like the man from yesterday.
Shion, how can this happen? I can't believe it. Shion
could almost imagine those words tumbling out of his
parted lips.
I have to close his eyes, at least. Shion pressed his
fingers on Yamase's eyelids. They didn't close. Rigor mortis
had already begun to take its course.
Shion crouched beside Yamase, clenched his fists, and
continued staring at his colleague with whom he was
having a conversation only moments before. Feelings of
fear, sorrow, or pain were curiously absent. It was as if all
his feelings had gone numb.
Observe. Analyze. Watch. Don't take your eyes off of
him. Take in everything you can and absorb it as
knowledge. And memorize it. Memorize. Memorize―
Cessation of respiratory and cardiovascular activity.
Decrease in body temperature. Rigor mortis. Death spots.
Dissipation of rigor mortis. Postmortem phenomena that
usually took dozens of hours was taking place in a mere
fifteen, sixteen minutes. It was if he was watching a film
on fast-forward.
Shion watched unmoving, his eyes wide open, biting
his lip in concentration. He could predict what was going
to happen next. He was sweating. A warm bead of
perspiration slid from his temple down his cheek. Its heat
reassured him that he was still alive.
Living people are warm. You were right, Nezumi.
People are warm because they're alive. Four years ago,
you knew this.
A stain appeared on Yamase's neck. It was dark green,
almost black. Shion bit his lip harder. The taste of blood
spread inside his mouth. There it was, it was
starting―what was previously unknown, what no one had
ever experienced before. He leaned forward. The stain
moved. The skin over that portion swelled slightly, and
stirred.
A buzzer went off. Sampo was sending an
Indistinguishable Object signal. Oblivious to the changes
that were happening in the office, it seemed like Sampo
and the rest were going about their cleaning duties as
usual. Shion ignored it. He had no attention to spare. All
the nerves in his body were focused on the stain. His eyes
were glued to it, and he couldn't break his gaze.
Shion let out a muffled cry of horror. He clutched his
chest, and felt his own heartbeat thudding against his
palm. He jumped back. An insect had eaten its way out
from under the skin of Yamase's neck, and was wriggling to
get free. It was the same colour as the stain it had come
out of. It had thin silvery wings, six legs, antennae, and a
needle-like ovipositor.
"A bee..."
A bee had just eaten its way out of a human body.
How could that―
The insect took flight. He followed it with his gaze,
and saw the Medical Bureau's ambulance pull up in front of
the office. A sudden darkness veiled his eyes.
He was fainting from shock.
The black insect was darting around in his darkening
vision. Shion groaned, and curled up on the floor.

Shion awoke to a blinding light stabbing at his eyes.

He heard a quiet male voice speak.
"Awake?"
Light was streaming through the window, and the man
had his back to it. His face was thrown in shadow. The
shadow spoke again.
"Get up. I have something to ask you."
It was a voice he'd heard before. Shion came to, and
noticed he was lying on the office sofa. Yamase, wrapped
in a white cloth, was being carried out of the room. It
seemed like he had fainted for only a few minutes.
"Yamase-san."
 Shion called the name of his colleague almost without
thinking. Yamase's smiling face crossed his mind.
Fragmented memories ― how he loved coffee, and drank
several cups of it a day; his quiet demeanour; his habit of
sheepishly looking at his feet ― all at once burst forth in
his mind.
They weren't particularly close. To Shion, he was just
a senior colleague. He had never confided in Yamase, nor
had they ever had a deeply personal conversation. But
Shion had liked Yamase. Yamase never intruded unheeded
into anyone's personal space, but that didn't mean he was
disinterested. He was a good person. But he was no more.
"Yamase-san..." His eyes began to sting. He was tapped
lightly on the shoulder.
"Let's get emotional later, shall we?" The man spoke
lazily and without emotion. Shion's heart jumped
unpleasantly.
"Can you explain the situation to us?" This voice, these
words. He had heard them before.
"You're..."
"It's been a while, hasn't it. It's nice to see you still
remember me."
It was Rashi, the Interrogations Officer from the
Security Bureau. He had the same gentle tongue and
unsmiling eyes as four years before.
"You'll tell us everything you know, won't you?"
 Shion found himself nodding automatically. He could
feel his mind begin to unravel slowly. His head and body
felt heavy, and his own voice sounded as if it was coming
from far away.
This is bad.
A warning signal sounded in a corner of his mind. But
he couldn't regulate himself as well as he could yesterday.
Each question that Rashi asked dragged words forth
helplessly from his mouth.
"A bee?" Rashi furrowed his brow. He gazed around the
room, and cocked his head to one side in perplexity. There
was no insect, bee or otherwise, to be found in the room.
"I'm not buying it."
"Check Yamase-san's neck, there should be a scar―" He
swallowed his words. There should be a scar. There should
have been one, the same, on the neck of the man
yesterday. The Bureau had investigated that body as an
unnatural death, there was no way they could have
overlooked it. They had noticed, but had told his bereaved
wife that it was an accident. They didn't want the real
cause of death to be known ― that was what it boiled
down to.
Shion turned his head to the side, as if to avoid Rashi's
gaze. He had spoken too much. He had divulged
everything he knew, which might have been something
that the Bureau intended never to reach outside ears ―
classified information that they were intent on covering
up. If that was the case―
 "You used to specialize in ecology, correct?"
"I intended to, but I never did. I have nothing to do
with it now."
"And were you interested in the biology of insects as
well?"
"Ecology encompasses everything that has to do with
interactions of species with their environment. Insects
weren't the only thing I was interested in."
"Ah, is that so? And specifically, what do you mean in
terms of relationship between organisms and their
environment?"
"Well―"
Shion could feel himself breaking into a cold sweat. A
thin smile played on Rashi's lips while he spoke, his words
light, his tone conversational. But his gaze never left
Shion once. Two officials of the Security Bureau came in.
One of them whispered in Rashi's ear. Momentarily, Rashi
spoke.
"I hope you won't mind coming down to the Security
Bureau for a bit."
"Huh?"
"It's nothing really, we just want to hear more of your
story. It'll be over in minutes. I promise we won't take
much of your time if you come with us."
"I―"
 A buzzer sounded. Sampo was sending an
Indistinguishable Object error.
"I'm sorry, I have to operate the cleaning robots..."
"Put them away. In any case, you won't get much work
done today."
Shion ignored him. He minimized the error display, and
switched over to the camera. A small grey mouse
appeared on the screen. It was scurrying up and down
Sampo's arm. Its mouth was open wide, and it was
mouthing something incessantly. Shion brought the
earphones to his ear and turned on the sound sensor.
"Shion." Nezumi's voice flowed through to him. "Get
out of there. You're in trouble."
What?
"Get out."
Click. He heard a sound behind him. Shion turned, and
found himself staring down a pair of gun barrels. He
couldn't distinguish what model they were. But he knew
that these were no high-tech stun guns, no, none of that
sort ― they were older models, highly effective in the kill.
Sport-hunting hobbyists liked to use these kinds of guns.
Shion slowly flicked Sampo's speaker switch on. Now,
Nezumi's end would be able to hear his voice.
"Are you forcing me under arrest?"
"I guess you could call it something like that.
Regardless, you're coming with us."
 "Don't you need a reason to arrest me?"
"A reason? None of that. But if you insist... your
bicycle, perhaps?"
"My bike?"
"You were using a bicycle without speed-limiters.
That's a breach of the law, and more than enough reason
to put you under arrest."
"What―how―for such a ridiculous reason, without
even going through the proper procedures? Using violence?
Is this how you arrest a citizen of the city? What happens
to my rights?"
"A citizen? Rights?" Rashi sneered. A violent chill ran
down Shion's spine.
"You really think you have any of those?"
He could hear Nezumi click his tongue. Tsk.
"Guess I didn't make it in time."
Shion exhaled, and began shutting down the operating
system. Just before it turned off, he heard Nezumi's short
message ring out clearly.
"Shion, don't panic. I'm coming to help you."

***
He was right. Don't panic. Calm down. Be of sound
mind. He had to buy more time. Shion relented.
"Please don't use any violence on me."
 "We won't, of course. As long as you co-operate with
us."
"It wouldn't be any use to retaliate anyway, would it?"
"Is it your policy not to take useless action? There's a
good lad, he knows what he's talking about. It's a waste,
really."
"A waste? What is?"
"For you."
"I don't understand what you're talking about."
"You'll know in good time. You've always been smart
and quick to understand, like you were four years ago."
Flanked by two Bureau officials, Shion climbed into
the car. Above them was an expanse of clear, blue autumn
sky. The sun was bright. The birds were chirping. A gentle
breeze blew past them. Times of peace and tranquility
they were.

The car glided forward.

"Nice weather today," commented Rashi from the
passenger seat, without turning around. The official sitting
on Shion's right side nodded in response. "It looks like
we've been having more warmer days than usual lately."
Rashi turned to Shion and smiled.
"And yourself? Do you have a car?"
"No. I usually take my bike or walk."
 "That's a good thing. Young people like you need to
move their bodies more. By the way, what we're riding
right now is a battery-operated car. Quite comfortable,
don't you think?"
"Excellent I would think, if it wasn't for the situation
I'm in right now," Shion replied sarcastically. In means of
retaliation, it was the best he could muster. Rashi
shrugged lightly.
"As I was saying, this car runs on fuel-cell batteries.
Any idea how they work? We aren't too well-versed on the
scientific side of things, I'm afraid."
"I don't know much either."
"What sort of things do you know about it?"
"Not much... I mean, I don't really have a lot of
scientific knowledge."
The officials on both sides of him moved at once. He
was grabbed firmly by the arms. Rashi's tone changed to
that of an interrogator.
"Then just tell us what you do know."
"Like I said, what I know― it's all just general
knowledge."
"Such as?"
The conversation was short, clipped and void of
frivolity, but Shion felt a sort of strangling heaviness about
it. He felt like someone was choking him slowly with a
soft, damp piece of cloth. He felt nauseous.
 "So... through electrolysis, alcohol is separated into
oxygen and hydrogen, and by fusing them together again,
energy is―"
"Energy is what?"
"Where are we going?" Shion asked suddenly. He rose,
but was yanked back and shoved into his seat.
"Aren't we going to the Security Bureau? This isn't the
way." The Bureau was located beside City Hall. From the
Park Administration Office, one only had to cut through
the park to get there. By car, it was a few minutes'
distance. But the scenery out the window showed him the
car was heading in the opposite direction.
"Where do you think we're going?"
"That's what I'm asking you right now," said Shion
testily.
"You're not entitled to ask any questions."
"What―how could you―why―"
"Haven't I told you? You're a top suspect in this case."
"What case?"
"The death that happened today, and the other one
from yesterday. You're on suspicion of murder."
Shion had lost his voice. He could hear the rush of
blood in his ears as it receded from his face.
"You're a dangerous suspect. You have extensive
knowledge and an intelligent brain to put it to use. I could
tell just from our conversation. And to top it off, you're
dissatisfied with your situation and feel a strong resistance
against the City. Superior ability and hostility toward the
City. Take either one, and they aren't of concern by
themselves. But you have both. Dangerous, indeed."
"Those are false accusations."
"False? I beg to differ." Rashi's hand extended to a
silver button beside the steering wheel. Shion's and
Yamase's voice began to play from the speakers.
'Yamase-san, why does the Bureau have to lie about
it? And isn't it strange that they can't seem to find a cause
of death?'
'Yeah... this incident is full of unanswered questions.'
Shion closed his eyes. It was the conversation they'd
had only minutes ago. They were being tapped the whole
time. Had a microphone been hidden in the control panel?
But for what purpose?
'Yamase-san, are you saying that the Bureau is
manipulating information?'
'Shion!'
Rashi pressed the button lightly again. The voices
were cut off. For a moment, a cold silence fell in the car
as if the very air had frozen over.
"Care to hear a little more?"
"Please... stop... I can't believe this."
"Can't you?"
 "I didn't kill anyone," said Shion flatly.
"So you're saying that this bee that you were talking
about is the real murderer?"
"Yes."
"Preposterous. A rather contrived story for someone of
your intelligence."
"What reason do I have to kill Yamase-san?"
"That's what we're going to figure out. My guess is that
you wanted to start a commotion."
"―Huh?"
"A commotion. You wanted to start a huge one, enough
to shake the very roots of the city, and bask in its glory.
You must have regarded yourself as some kind of genius
fallen upon ill fortune, haven't you? So you loathed the
City for not favouring you as you deserved, and felt hatred
toward its citizens. You believed you deserved more
attention, so you thought of this method of murder, this
unnatural death, to take society by storm. You had the
medical and biological knowledge to do it. It was very well
possible that you used some kind of special chemical to
commit murder."
Shion sank deeply into the car seat. All energy had left
his body. He realized it was a trap. He had walked right
into its cunning grasp. He licked his lips. They were
parched and dry.
 "I see," he said coolly. "So it's all been scripted already.
Rather contrived story yourself, maybe even more than
mine."
"We'll see how contrived it is once we get through
questioning you." There was a metallic clang. The official
on Shion's left had handcuffed him.
"There's a transmitter on those, and it lets us know
where you are. When we get there, you'll get to take them
off." Rashi's words gave Shion an idea of where he was
going. The West Block. The Correctional Facility. If he was
undergoing investigation there, he was sure to be locked
up right afterwards as a convict. In exchange for removing
his handcuffs, he would have a V-chip implanted into him.
―Nezumi, it's too late. I can't get away.
He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
"There's a good lad. Keep quiet."
Shion remained slumped, and bit his dry bottom lip.
I'm coming to help you. Nezumi's voice echoed in his
ears. His heart grew calm. His legs trembled, though not
from despair or fear, but rage. Rage at the people who
had tricked him. Nezumi's voice kept that rage afloat. The
car entered Lost Town.
―Mom.
"Are you worried about your mother?"
"My mother―what―what'll happen to her?"
 "Happen? Nothing. She won't be stripped of her
citizenship just because her son is a convict." Rashi
whispered something to the driver. The car veered to the
right. A familiar scenery of the streets came into view.
The car stopped silently at the curb.
"Look."
Rashi pointed. Karan was in the midst of handing a
small girl a wrapped loaf of bread. She said something to
her, and the girl nodded. Both Karan and the girl were
smiling. Enveloped in the amber light of autumn, the two
looked as if they were part of a painting, or a scene from
a drama. Shion leaned forward.
"Your mother looks like a gentle lady. Get a good look
at her while you can." Rashi motioned with his chin, and
the car began to move. "You may never see her again."
Rashi chuckled with his back to Shion.
"It's nothing to be so troubled about. Sure, at first your
mother will be shocked, and she'll feel sad. But she'll get
over it. That's how life is. Well, it's not like anything would
come of you worrying about her anyway. Soon you'll find
you'll have things more serious to worry about."
Rashi's words sliced at Shion's heart. His breath caught
in his throat. The rage and rebellion simmering inside him
slowly began to dissipate. He would never be able to
return to his his normal life again. He had been separated
from it forever. Seeing his mother etched the feeling of
despair deeper into him.
 They had calculated it all. They didn't stop the car
near Shion's house out of pity for him. They had done it to
deal him the final blow, the blow that knocked him down
and told him, give up, lose hope, you're never going back
again. It was a cunning and cruel trick to make him lose
the will to retaliate.
"I'm coming to help you. I'm coming to help you."
Shion opened his mouth and repeated the words to
himself.
I'm coming to help you. Just a short sentence. But
Nezumi's voice had been steady with confidence.
What did he look like again? He wondered, and tried
to visualize Nezumi's face. He could only remember a pair
of light grey eyes.
―Will I see you soon, Nezumi?
"What's that?" Rashi turned around, and furrowed his
brow.
"Are you smiling?"
"Smiling? Of course not," Shion replied. "I don't have
the courage to smile in this kind of situation."
"In this situation, huh... you seem rather calm about
it. I hope you do understand exactly what kind of situation
you're in right now."
"Almost too well."
"Aren't you calm and collected in spite of that."
 "I'm a natural."
"A what?"
"A natural," Shion repeated. "I've been told that by
someone once. That I'm a natural at not getting it."
Rashi stared at Shion in silence. The car was exiting
Lost Town and approaching the western border. It was
Shion's first time here, because regular citizens were not
allowed to enter into this area. No. 6 was a citadel― a
wall made of special alloy circled the city and enclosed it.
In most parts if the city, the wall was camouflaged well
with trees, but in the West Block it stood bare. The car
bypassed the Access Control Office.
"Aren't you going to enter the West Block from here?"
"There are two gates. That one was for entering and
exiting the city. The other one is especially for entering
the Correctional Facility, it leads directly into it. The
Correctional Facility is a special kind of facility, even in
the West Block. We keep it completely isolated from all
general citizens. I bet you didn't know that."
"No, I didn't."
"You'll find out even more soon enough."
The path narrowed. An increasing number of trees
blocked the sunlight.
"Once we're through the woods, there will be nothing
but wastelands. Past the gates it'll be the same. It'll
probably be the last time you see any greenery, so I advise
you engrave it into your memory well."
The car stopped.
"What's the matter?" Rashi asked.
"Ah, it's just..." The driver pointed to something in
front of them. A silver-coloured lump was laying across
the middle of the road. Slowly, it raised itself.
"Sampo?" Shion swallowed.
"What's this? What's a cleaning robot doing here?"
"Maybe it has orders to clean the forest area?"
"I haven't heard anything about it."
Sampo was scooping up fallen leaves with his metal
arms.
"Keep an eye on the suspect." Rashi ordered the
officials, and got out of the car. He approached Sampo.
Sampo swayed, its arms grabbing ahold of Rashi. Clinging
to him, it fell forward.
Rashi gave a short cry, and was dragged by Sampo to
the ground amongst the trees.
"Ah!" The driver raised his own voice in surprise, and
opened the door to lean forward. The next moment, two
small shadows darted into the car. They were two grey
mice. In a flash, they each latched onto the throat of a
Bureau official.
 "Don't move," a low voice commanded. A person slid
into the passenger seat. A grey cloth covered his head and
was wrapped around his shoulders. From them, a brown
mouse sprang onto the base of the driver's neck.
"These guys have small bombs planted in their bodies.
Try anything funny, and you can count on your heads being
blown off."
The driver whimpered in terror.
"Take his handcuffs off. And the three of you, get out
of the car."
No one moved.
"Quickly!" he ordered sharply. "I'm impatient. Do you
want me to set them off?" There was a metallic sound
from the mice that were latched onto each throat. Click.
Click. Click. The handcuffs fell from Shion's wrists. The
three men tumbled out of the car, bleeding at the neck.
"Nezumi!"
"Greetings later." Nezumi gripped the steering wheel.
The car spun around in a U-turn, and hurtled down the
road at full speed.
"Nezumi, are you really going to make them explode?"
"Idiot. You think I would plant bombs into my faithful
friends? That was just to scare them."
"Were those robot mice? They looked just like the real
thing. And with Sampo, how did you―"
 "Shut up," Nezumi growled. He yanked the cloth off his
head, and threw it to the backseat. "Wrap that over your
head and stay curled up."
"Is this superfibre? Why do I have to wrap up in this?"
"Because I'm going to crash it."
"Crash what?"
"The car."
"What!? Why―"
Nezumi's fist pounded the steering wheel.
"Just shut up, alright? Is asking questions all you're
good for?"
"But we can just escape with the car."
"I was planning to, but―"
"But what?"
"It went too well." They were approaching the wall
that separated the West Block from No. 6. The car showed
no signs of slowing down. "It shouldn't have been this easy
to rescue you."
"Really?"
"You're naturally dense, you wouldn't know. It doesn't
get any more dangerous when something's gone too well.
That's why we're going to dump this thing. When I tell you
to, wrap up in that cloth and jump out of the car. I'm
gonna crash it."
 "How about you?"
"I'm used to this kind of thing. No need for the dense
boy to worry about me."
"I can't just leave you!"
The wall was looming closer.
"Get out, open the door!" Nezumi yelled. Almost
simultaneously, the tires screamed as the car screeched to
a halt. Shion's body floated up. The next minute, he was
being slammed back against the seat. If it weren't for its
shock-absorbing material, he probably would have broken
a few bones.
"Damnit!" Nezumi kicked the door hard. It didn't move.
"Is it the automatic brake system?" Shion winced at his
bruised shoulder as he asked.
"I disabled that a long time ago. I disabled the alarm
system, the collision sensor system, everything. This car's
being controlled remotely," Nezumi said angrily.
A chuckle resounded throughout the interior of the
car. It was Rashi's voice.
"I won't have you underestimate the Security Bureau.
The car that you boys are riding is actually an escort
cruiser, though you might not have noticed. It's not
something you can control so easily."
Nezumi swore.
"I didn't know you had an accomplice. That was
something I didn't expect. It was quite the spectacle, very
impressive. Why don't we have a nice talk, and I can hear
all about it."
The car changed directions, and began to move on its
own.
"Rather quiet, hmm? Can your friend not talk? Or does
talking pose some kind of problem? Ah, your voice sample
must be in the system, which means you have a criminal
record."
"I think you're talking a bit too much." Nezumi's hands
moved swiftly. "I'm sorry, but I don't have time for
pointless conversations with old men." Nezumi moved to
the back seat and pushed Shion down. "Duck and get under
the cloth. Hold on tight."
"Hey! What are you doing?" There was a note of panic
in Rashi's voice.
"See ya, old man. Say goodbye to your high-tech escort
cruiser too."
"What―"
There was a blast. A wave of impact slammed into
them.
"Get out!" The short command burst at Shion's ear. The
door opened. A gust of hot air swept over them. Outside. I
have to get outside. Shion screwed his eyes shut, and
leapt into the outside world. He hit the ground, and
rolled. Behind him, he heard an enormous explosion. The
car was on its side, its wheels in the air spinning
helplessly.
 "Good job," Nezumi whistled. "You rolled pretty well
for someone with such a big head. Not hurt, are you?"
"I scraped my arm pretty badly. You?"
"I told you, I'm used to this."
"What did you do?"
"I destroyed the steering system."
"How?"
"Escort cruisers might be durable on the outside, but
they're delicate on the inside. As long as you set it in the
right place, any small bomb will put it right to sleep."
"You seem to know a lot about it."
"Like I said, I'm used to this. Right, now to get out of
here. Can you run?"
"Of course."
They emerged from the wood to see several Security
Bureau cars approaching in the distance. The area had
probably been put under emergency alert.
"Throw your ID card away," Nezumi ordered quietly.
"Hurry up, there's no time to waste. That thing is only
going to be a danger to us."
Shion knew. His ID card carried all his personal
information, and it was connected to and stored in the
city's administrative computer system. The computer
could instantly pull up his latest information, or pinpoint
his location from the weak radio waves that his card
emitted. Carrying his ID card was like waving a large flag
and telling everyone where he was. It was a dangerous
device for anyone who was on the run, in hiding, or aiming
to go underground. Nezumi was telling him to throw it
away. But― once let go, he would never be able to get it
back again. He would be throwing his whole life in No. 6
away. A card was needed for everything from shopping,
bill payments, and communication to entering and exiting
the workplace or school, and using public transportation.
Those who couldn't prove their citizenship in the city were
not allowed to live there.
"Throw it away," Nezumi repeated, in the same low
voice.
If he didn't toss it, there was no chance for them to
escape. But if he did, he would never be able to return.
The pair of grey eyes were fixed on him. They were
neither clouded in panic, nor glinting in challenge. They
were calm, and unreadable. Shion let go of his ID card. A
grey mouse appeared, picked up the card in its mouth and
disappeared again into the undergrowth.
"He'll get rid of it for us. That should keep the Bureau
busy for a while trying to find our location. Not much of a
distraction, but it should buy us some time. Let's go."
A Security Bureau car turned right and disappeared
into the forest. It had picked up the radio waves emitted
by the ID card. They ran in the opposite direction.
"Hurry. Once the Bureau switches to their satellite
surveillance system, they'll be able to see everything on
land. We have to get away while they're still on the tail of
that ID card."
"Where? How―?"
"Well for starters, we'll use that." A small truck was
parked up against a beech tree. It was a Park
Administration truck. A cleaning robot was loaded on the
back.
"Sampo― no, that's Ippo."
"Yeah. They said they wanted to help you and wouldn't
listen, so I brought them along. They ended up being
pretty useful."
The truck began to move.
"Nezumi, this area's probably under high alert now. If
we keep hanging around here without a card, they'll find
us out."
"We have a card."
"Where?"
"He has it," Nezumi jerked his chin at Ippo.
"Ippo? Oh, right." Robots were also required to be
registered with the city. Robots like Ippo and Sampo,
which were used by city organizations, were registered in
detail according to their various uses, and implanted with
a chip.
"His chip should get us through the inspection system."
 "But Ippo's chip only shows that he's a cleaning robot.
If he's found roaming an area that has nothing to do with
it, they'll get suspicious."
"We're roaming an area that has everything to do with
it."
"Huh?"
They were approaching a pair of silver gates. The
moment they passed through, they would be automatically
scanned, and if the contents of the chip deemed them
unfit to pass, the gates would close, and the truck would
be forced to a halt.
The truck sped through the gates without slowing
down. The hazard lamps at the gate remained unlit. Shion
let out a breath. Nezumi chuckled.
"Don't get worked up just yet. This is only the
beginning."
"Sorry, I'm not used to this kind of thing."
"You'll get used to it in no time. Then you can sit back
and enjoy the ride."
"This isn't really my idea of 'enjoyable'," Shion
muttered.
"Oh, really? The look on your face says you're enjoying
this quite a bit."
Shion sighed deeply again, and gazed at Nezumi's
profile.
"Admiring my good looks?"
 "No, I just noticed you've gotten taller."
"So have you. It's been four years. Our four years is a
long time. Gotta expect some changes. It would be
unnatural not to have changed at all."
Four years was a long time. For Shion, it was long and
turbulent. But compared to the dizzying events of these
past few hours, he felt like they were the most peaceful
days of his life. A weariness overcame his body. Nezumi
smirked.
"So have you noticed?"
"What?"
"I'm taller than you."
"Lies," Shion objected.
"It's the truth. What have you been eating? You're like
a twig. I don't know how you would be able to get naked in
front of your lover with a body like that."
"That's none of your business," Shion replied irritably.
"Have you even seen me naked? Don't go making things
up."
"What if I said I have?" The cloth wrapped around
Nezumi's shoulders shook as he continued to laugh. Shion
had treated a wound on that same shoulder four years
before. Those shoulders were now broader and more
muscled. His once-long hair was shorter, just covering his
ears, and his jawline and neck were still slender, but not
pitifully thin. He carried no remnant of the weakness that
stirred Shion's protective instinct four years ago.
"Nezumi, have you been keeping watch on me?"
"What're you talking about?" said Nezumi innocently.
"Don't play dumb. You appeared right there as if you
knew this was going to happen to me. What's going on?
Were you keeping me under surveillance?"
"Now, don't think too highly of yourself. I don't have
that kind of time on my hands."
"Then explain why."
"You're always like that, aren't you," Nezumi said. "You
can't take any action unless you understand everything in
your head. You need an explanation and interpretation for
everything."
"What do you know?" Shion replied angrily. "Don't act
like you know everything about me. I need to find out why
this happened― what's going to happen. I can't move in
this confused state."
The truck came to a halt. Shion was grabbed by the
collar and shaken violently.
"You're going to move," Nezumi hissed. "Don't ever let
me hear you whining about not being able to move again.
Those guys don't see us as human beings. They can get rid
of us as easily as crushing an ant under their feet. You
remember that."
 Shion caught his breath, and stared into Nezumi's face.
His words clicked into place like puzzle pieces.
Rights? You really think you have any of those? The
Security Bureau's Investigations Officer Rashi had said
those words, not moving a muscle on his face. What he
had said in meaning was that he could dispose of Shion as
easily as stepping on an ant. Wipe him off the face of the
earth.
"Get out." Nezumi opened the door. "We're walking
from here."
The vacated truck made a U-turn and slowly coasted
along the way that they had come. It had switched to
auto-pilot and was returning to the Park Administration
Office. On its loading deck sat Ippo, and for a moment, it
looked like its head was bowed in dejection.
They were standing inside what doubled as a waste
disposal plant and Refuse-derived Fuel (RDF) factory.
Here, all the garbage gathered from the city were sorted
into those to be turned into RDF, those to be forwarded to
other recycling facilities, and those to be discarded as
waste. 80% of No. 6's energy supply came from solar
power. In Chronos, every house was equipped with solar
panels and its own thermal storage system. In Lost Town,
however, it was more common to use the cheaper RDFs.
RDFs were blocks of solid fuel, about the size of an adult
thumb. Once burned, they emitted a faint odour, which
blanketed the town.
 "I see. It would be no problem getting into a waste
disposal plant with a cleaning robot's chip." If it had been
a nursing robot or pet robot, they would not have been
able to pass.
"Nezumi, was this all part of your plan when you
brought Ippo and them along?"
"More questions?" Nezumi's shoulders hunched slightly
in exasperation, his back to Shion, who trailed behind.
Shion noticed that there was now a grey mouse sitting on
Nezumi's shoulder.
"If I had them with me, I wouldn't look suspicious
driving around the city. The inspection system wouldn't
catch me as long as I was heading west in the direction of
the waste disposal plant. They were pretty useful, I'll say.
The transport truck was kind of slow, which pissed me off.
But those old guys took a detour to your house, right? That
bought me a little time. But..."
"But?"
"But I would have wanted to get away on the Security
Bureau car," Nezumi sighed. "Well, that just shows you
can't get everything you want. Watch it, things are gonna
get a little rough from here."
"Huh?"
There was an explosion. Shion turned to see a cloud of
white smoke. Nezumi furrowed his brow.
"The truck got destroyed at the gate."
 "Which means Ippo's chip was read and―"
"Yeah. They must have sent out a destruction order to
all the gates. It's because we left that other robot behind.
They figured us out."
―So Ippo and Sampo are both gone.
Shion was suddenly grabbed by the wrist.
"They'll find out soon that we're in here. We're gonna
make a run for it. Hurry."
His grip was so strong that Shion's fingers began to go
numb.
"Nezumi, it hurts."
"Shut up. Keep close to me."
"I get it, let go. You're gonna break my wrist."
He heard Nezumi tsk in frustration.
"That's the problem with delicate little boys like you."
"I'm not a delicate little boy," Shion said indignantly.
"I'm different from four years ago."
"Are you? You know, you can be really irritating
sometimes. You might get killed at any time, you
understand that right?"
"Yeah."
"Lies."
"I'm not lying."
 Nezumi's tone grew harsh.
"Then what was that face back there, huh? Is this the
time to be feeling sorry for those robots? You don't
understand anything. You're just an oblivious little boy."
Nezumi's fingers dug in harder. The grip on his wrist
tightened painfully. Shion gritted his teeth and bore it
silently. He couldn't stand to let himself whimper pitifully
after all that Nezumi had said.
Nezumi's fingers withdrew from his wrist.
"Keep up with me if you don't wanna die. Stay close,
no matter what." Nezumi broke into a run. The waste
disposal plant was deserted. There were surveillance
cameras scattered throughout, but most were older
models and didn't seem to be doing their job very well.
Shion guessed that they probably didn't need them
because no one would think of sneaking into the waste
disposal plant in the first place. Nevertheless, Nezumi
combed the path cautiously as he searched for a route
that kept them out of view of the cameras.
An enormous funnel-shaped disposal machine was
giving off a steady hum. Waste that could neither be
recycled nor used as fuel were turned into dry chips here
to be sent to the incinerator. Wastewater dripped from
the spout of the machine into the pool below. The water
flowed slowly toward the filtration facilities outside. It
was murky, like a river after a bout of heavy rain. But in
this river there were no living things. As they descended
the stairs and drew closer to the water, an acrid smell
assaulted Shion's nostrils. The floor beneath their feet was
coated with slime, and threatened to trip him up any
time. Nezumi stopped, and tossed something at Shion.
"Goggles?"
"Yup. They have infrared sensors, so you should be
able to see even in this water."
"In here?"
Nezumi pointed at the sewage. "Happen to like
scuba-diving?"
"So we're diving in here, huh...."
"That we are."
Shion took a deep breath. The odour filled his lungs.
Without another word, he put on the goggles.
"Wow, you're picking up quickly," Nezumi remarked in
mild amusement. "I thought you'd whine and stamp your
feet."
"I don't wanna die," said Shion firmly. "I'm not going to
be stepped on like some ant. I'll do anything if it'll save
me, and that includes diving into wastewater too."
Nezumi turned to Shion and gave a slight smile.
"Then follow me."
"Of course."
The low hum of the machine stopped. The ceiling
lights lit up at once. The sound of footsteps could be
heard above them.
 "They're coming." Nezumi extended a hand to the river
of sewage. A mouse scurried down it and leapt into the
water.
"He'll be our navigator. Try not to splash. Get into the
water slowly."
Shion did as he was told. He sucked in a deep breath
before going in. Just before he hit the water, an image of
his mother's face crossed his mind.

-- END OF CHAPTER 3 --
CHAPTER 4
Of Fathomless Terror

The flow of sewage was faster and deeper than what

Shion had expected. Indiscernible objects floated past his
face. Once in a while, something would cling to his
goggles and block his vision. He could smell an odour
unlike anything he had smelled before. Amidst the
overarching smell of rot was a mix of sickly sweet scents
and harsh odours that stung the nose. In this brownish
murk, he could barely follow Nezumi, who swam in front
of him. And more than anything, it was hard to breathe.
His heart thudded, and his chest strained painfully.
Nezumi drifted to the side, and pointed at a handle
that was attached to the wall. Shion reached out and
grabbed it. Together, they turned it and pulled as hard as
they could. A round opening appeared.
 He couldn't breathe. He was at his limit. His
consciousness was fading away. The next instant, he was
sucked into the hole. He was pulled along, pushed up, and
thrown out on dry land. His body was slammed ashore, and
he could feel the shock from it tingle to his toes. But he
no longer felt like he had a wet cloth over his face. He
could breathe. He felt a momentary relief, and then was
overcome with a fit of coughing. He felt nauseous, and the
inside of his mouth felt sticky. Shion yanked off his goggles
and closed his eyes. For several moments, he couldn't
move.
"It's a little early for bed-time," Nezumi quipped, but
his breathing was laboured as well. Shion opened his eyes,
and saw a bare concrete surface.
"Where are we?"
"In the sewage pipes. Artifacts of the 20th century.
Maybe not artifacts, since they're still being used." Nezumi
shook his head vigorously from side to side. Water droplets
flew from his hair. "When the amount of sewage goes over
capacity, they open that door back there to flush it down
these pipes."
"They flush sewage down here? Without filtering it?"
"Yup. Your beloved City tends to do that sometimes."
"Where does it go?"
"The West Block."
"So they flush dirty water― how could they..." Shion
was at a loss for words. Nezumi stood up.
 "The West Block isn't part of the city to him. It's in the
margins. He probably only sees this place as some kind of
garbage dump."
"He?"
Nezumi was standing still, staring unblinkingly before
him. At the end of his gaze was the sewage outlet that
they had just been washed out of. Sewage still trickled in
thin streams across the concrete.
"Let's go." Nezumi bent down to scoop up the mouse
scurrying about his feet, and turned his back to Shion.
Shion stood up hastily. He still felt nauseous, but he had
some strength left in his legs to stand. I still have enough
strength. It'll last me. I'll be alright. Shion mentally
encouraged himself. On Nezumi's shoulder, the mouse that
had been their navigator cheeped amiably.
"Ah!" Shion brought a hand to his neck. He felt
something faintly odd. On the base of his neck, there was
a small part that felt numb. Shion felt the area with his
fingers. There was a pea-sized blister growing, and it was
itchy. He scratched it lightly. A chill wind blew through the
centre of his body. Shion could feel his heart contract.
This gesture ― scratching the neck ― he had seen
someone do this before.
"Yamase-san." Yamase's image floated up clearly in
Shion's mind, pouring coffee, making conversation, always
scratching his neck throughout. "Don't tell me―"
Nezumi turned around.
 "What's wrong?"
"No, nothing."
"You better not be whining that you can't walk
anymore."
"On the contrary," said Shion, "I could do with a little
more exercise. Want me to piggy-back you while I'm at it?"
"Nice of you to offer, but no thanks."
The mouse on his shoulder was chirruping. Shion
walked faster to catch up with Nezumi.
He was thinking too much. It was just a blister. The
scrape on his arm and his bruised body were much worse
than this. It was a blister, for goodness sake. Just a
blister....
"Why the serious face? Missing your mama?"
"My mother..." Shion murmured. "Nezumi, do you think
I'd be able to get in touch with her?"
"Forget about it."
"How are you so sure?"
"You know well enough. Right now, your house is
probably being searched top to bottom by the Security
Bureau, down to the contents of your garbage can. Unless
you have telepathic powers, there's no way you can get in
touch with her."
"I guess you're right."
 ―I'm sorry, mom. He could only apologize. ―I'm safe.
I'm alive. So please― He didn't want her to despair. He
didn't want her to grieve.
"Bullshit," Nezumi spat.
"What is?"
"You. You're full of it."
It was the first time Shion had been insulted to his
face.
"What do you mean?"
"What I'm saying is that you're full of bullshit for
carrying this baggage, this crap, like it's the most precious
thing in the world." Nezumi narrowed his eyes and fixed
Shion with a hard gaze. His eyes were piercing, and filled
with an emotion almost leaning toward animosity.
Shion opened his mouth to question him further, but
Nezumi had suddenly begun to scale the wall. Upon a
more careful look, Shion could see that there was a rusted
metal ladder fixed to it. When he emerged at the top, he
was greeted with an evening sky. He was above ground
again. The sky was painted vividly in the colours of the
sunset, and a chilly air settled upon him.
The place looked like an entrance to the West Block.
In the distance, the outer walls of No. 6 glittered as it
reflected the setting sun. Because of the West Block's
lower elevation, No. 6 loomed even larger before them. It
was breathtaking to see the sprawling city encircled by
shining walls. Shion even thought there was a sort of godly
air about it.
Nezumi began to walk in the opposite direction. They
emerged from a sparse wood and soon came upon the
ruins of a house. There was smoke rising out of it, and
voices could be heard inside.
"Are there people living in there?"
"Lots of them," Nezumi replied.
Past the ruined house were a row of several barracks.
"This way." Shion was dragged by the arm to another
ruins of a building. This one looked like it had been a
warehouse before. The building had been quite spacious,
but half of it had crumbled away into rubble.
"We're going underground again." Nezumi pressed a
section of the wall, and it soundlessly moved aside to let
them through. Beyond, there was a flight of stairs made of
bare concrete like those in the sewage tunnels. The mouse
bounded down the stairs. At the foot of them was a door.
Inside, it was pitch black. There was a click, and the room
was bathed in dim light.
Shion caught his breath and was rooted to the spot.
There were mounds and mounds of books, piled
precariously high. Most of the room was buried in them.
"Are these all... books?"
"Do they look like food to you?"
"I've never seen this many."
 "Let me guess, you've only read off electronic paper
before."
"Yeah, well, not really, but... but wow, this is
amazing."
"And to take another guess, you've probably never
read Molière, Racine or Shakespeare before. And you
probably don't know anything about Chinese classics or
myths of the Aztecs."
"I don't." Shion didn't argue otherwise. He was too
overwhelmed.
"Then what do you know?" Nezumi asked, running a
hand through his wet hair.
"Huh?"
"What have you studied up until now? Systematic
knowledge, front-line technology, how to decode
specialized scholarly papers, and what else?"
"A lot else," Shion replied indignantly.
"Like what?"
"How to bake bread, how to make coffee, park
maintenance and cleaning... not to mention, now I know
how to scuba-dive in sewage."
"You forgot 'how to reject someone when she asks you
to have sex and you've only ever thought of her as a
friend'. You didn't do a great job at it, though."
Shion raised his chin defiantly and glared at the pair of
grey eyes.
 "If you have time to be making fun of me, will you let
me wash up?"
"I'm first." Nezumi pulled a towel from in-between
some books, and tossed it at Shion. "Don't be mad," he
said. "What I actually meant is that you've come pretty far
since four years ago. You've learned a lot more useful
things other than how to make cocoa."
"I'm humbled by your kind compliments."
"Hey, really, don't be mad."
Nezumi disappeared into the pile of books.
Momentarily, Shion could hear the muffled sounds of a
shower. He took a good look around the room. There were
bookshelves on every side, and they were filled to bursting
with books. They didn't look like they were sorted in any
order, and books of all sizes were shoved haphazardly into
open spaces on the shelves. Shion felt from them the same
kind of hustle and bustle that he would from a crowded
train station. The faded carpet looked like it had once
been some shade of green, and it was also covered in piles
of books. Nestled amongst them was a bed. There were no
windows. There was no kitchen, and no signs of other
furniture.
Cheep cheep.
A mouse squeaked at him from atop a book. Shion took
the book in his hands, and flipped open to a page. He
smelled the faint scent of paper. He remembered, long
ago, he had smelled the same thing. He was sitting on top
of something soft and warm― his memory wavered. He
couldn't remember it well. The mouse scurried up to his
shoulder. It twitched its whiskers, and chirruped
persistently.
"You want me to read this?"
Cheep cheep.
There was a bookmark in the middle of the book.
Shion turned to it, and began to read aloud.
Here's the smell of the blood, still. All the
perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little
hand. Oh, oh, oh!
―What a sigh is there. The heart is sorely
charged.
―I would not have such a heart in my bosom for
the dignity of the whole body.[1]
Another small mouse had appeared at Shion's feet. It
had charming grape-coloured eyes. The brown mouse that
had been sitting on the book nodded its head vigorously as
if to urge him on.
To bed, to bed, There's knocking at the gate.
Come, come, come, come, give me your hand.
What's done cannot be undone. ― To bed, to bed,
to bed![2]
Shion felt a presence behind him, and turned around.
Nezumi stood with a towel hanging around his neck. He
gave a deep bow.
"To the showers, if it so pleases your Majesty. Your
change of adornments awaits you here."
 "Nezumi, this book―"
"It's Shakespeare. Macbeth. Ever heard of it?"
"Only the title."
"I figured as much."
"Are all these books classics?"
"Nay, your Majesty. We also have introductory books to
ecology, and scientific journals to please your fancy."
"Are these all your books?"
"Is it interrogation time again?" Nezumi said
exasperatedly. "Run along and take a shower, and then I'll
give you something to eat." He ended abruptly, and
obstinately turned his head aside.

The shower was old, and it was difficult to control the

temperature. The flow was punctuated with bursts of
frigid water, but for Shion it still felt nice. It had been a
long time since he enjoyed a shower this much. The itch
on his neck had miraculously disappeared as well.
―I'm alive. I've been saved.
Shion thought to himself as he let the hot water run
over his body. He didn't know about tomorrow. But he was
alive right now, and was well enough to take this shower.
―I didn't thank him yet.
He had been rescued, and Nezumi had risked his life
to save him. But not a single word of gratitude had
escaped his lips so far. Realization set in. Soon after
exiting the bathroom, one of the mice came scampering
up to him again.
"He's taken a huge liking to your reading." Nezumi was
stirring something in a pot over the kerosene heater.
There was steam rising from it, and it gave the room a
feeling of homey warmth.
"Oh!" Shion suddenly exclaimed. He remembered now,
what was behind the nostalgia and warmth he felt when
he opened the book.
"What? What're you shouting for?"
"No, I just remembered. A long time ago, my mother
used to read to me."
"She read Macbeth to you?"
"Of course not. I was really young then. I remember
sitting in Mother's lap, and she'd read to me." What kind of
story was it again? The page was being turned slowly.
Karan's voice echoed in his ears, first high, then low;
subdued, then full of strength. He could feel the warmth
of her body. He could smell the scent of paper.
"You're going to destroy yourself," said Nezumi quietly.
His voice was cold.
"What?"
"I've said this before. Carry all this useless baggage,
and one day it'll be the end of you. It'll weigh you down
until it squashes you flat."
 "Useless? Like what?"
"Memories. Attachments to being a citizen of No. 6.
Your comfortable life, your overestimation of your own
skills, your misconceptions of being some kind of chosen
one, pride. The list goes on forever. But the worst is your
mother. Do you have some sort of Oedipus complex? If
you're being haunted by your mother that much, goodness
knows what you're going to do next. Maybe you'll start
saying you want to go back to the city to see your dearest
Mama."
It had touched a nerve.
"Is it a useless thing to think about my parents?"
answered Shion tensely. "I know what kind of situation I'm
in right now, and I know there's no way to get in contact
with my mother. But I'm free to think about her, at least.
That's not something for you to say anything about."
"Throw it away." Nezumi's voice has turned even icier,
and had almost a metallic ring to it. "Throw away useless
feelings like those."
"Why― Why are you saying..." Shion said in disbelief.
"Because they're dangerous."
"My feelings? Dangerous?"
"Back there, you threw away your citizenship card
because it was a danger to us. So are feelings for other
people. You get dragged around, pulled this way and that,
and before you know it, you're in dangerous territory. Your
mama, papa, your grandma, whoever― they're all
strangers now. There's no emotional room in you to be
concerned about strangers. Your hands are full enough
trying to keep yourself alive."
"And that's why I should throw everything else away?"
"Toss it. Cut yourself away from all the baggage you've
carried until now."
Shion clenched his fists at his sides. He took a step
closer to Nezumi.
"Then what about you?"
"Me?"
"Why did you help me, then? I'm just a stranger, but
you stepped into dangerous territory to save me. You're
not exactly practising what you preach."
"Some personality you've got," retorted Nezumi. "If you
really feel that you've been rescued by me, why don't you
try to be a little more modest when you say things?"
Nezumi's hand extended to grasp Shion's collar. He was
pushed against the bookshelf.
"I owe a debt to you," his low voice hissed at Shion's
ear. "Four years ago, you saved my life. I'm paying back
that debt. That's all."
"Then you've paid enough. Too much, even." Shion
gripped Nezumi's wrist to pry it away from his collar. But
Nezumi's taut muscles showed no signs of relaxing.
"Let go."
 "Make me, little boy."
"I'll bite your nose off." Shion clicked his teeth. There
was a split second of hesitation. Shion didn't miss it. He
slid a hand around the back of Nezumi's neck.
"Biting noses off is my specialty."
"Huh? Wait a second, that's dirty―"
"I forgot to mention, over these past four years, I've
also learned how to fight."
"Hey, knock it off," Nezumi said nervously, "biting is
the worst―whoa―!"
Nezumi lost his footing, and the two fell flailing into
the sea of books. Pile after pile toppled over, and books
rained down on them from above.
"Ow," Nezumi grimaced. "This is the worst. I think I hit
my head on an encyclopedia.... Shion, you alright?"
"Yeah... what's this? Chumayel's Chilam Balam?"
"It's a Mayan spiritual text ― a story about gods and
humans. You probably wouldn't be interested in it."
Nezumi smiled wanly as he began to stack the fallen
books.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's true, isn't it? Have you ever had any interest in
other humans, or gods, or tales before?"
Humans? Gods? Tales? He had never thought deeply
about any of those. Not once. But that was before.
 Shion gazed all about him, and breathed in the warm
scent that filled the air. Here was a world that he didn't
know. In the days to come, what would he see, hear,
learn, and ponder? His heart raced, but he didn't know
why. For a single moment, his soul had danced with an
anticipation, much like the feeling of seeing the ocean for
the first time. Then he thought of the look he must have
on his face. He felt embarrassed for letting it show, and
not wanting Nezumi to see, he bent down and
nonchalantly picked up a book laying at his feet.
"What's this?"
"A collection of Hesse's poems," Nezumi replied.
My soul, you frightened bird,
Over and over you must ask:
When after so many turbulent days
Comes peace, comes calm?[3]
"―Heard it before?"
"No."
"I figured as much."
"Don't ask if you already know," said Shion sourly.
"It's your job to learn it if you don't know."
"And these aren't useless things?"
"It'll come in handy one day," Nezumi said casually.
"Anyway, enough of that, the soup's gonna get―" Nezumi
swallowed his words. His eyes widened.
"What's wrong, Nezumi?"
 "Shion, your hand."
"Huh?"
"Your hand... when did those spots..."
Shion's shirt sleeve was rolled halfway up his arm.
There were dark spots were beginning to spread over its
bare skin. They had not been there when he was taking a
shower. They had definitely not.
"What? What is this?"
He was screaming. At the same time, he felt a vicious
pain pierce his head.
"Shion!"
The pain came in waves. They receded for a moment,
then attacked, bearing ruthlessly down on him. His fingers
stiffened. His legs began to convulse.
"Shion, hang in there, I'll get a doctor―"
Shion willed his uncooperative body to reach as far as
it could. He grabbed ahold of Nezumi by his clothes. There
wasn't enough time. It was useless to call a doctor.
"What should I do? Shion, tell me what―"
"My neck..." Shion said weakly.
"Your neck?"
"The blister... cut it open..."
"But I don't have any anaesthetic."
"I don't need any..." he grimaced. "Hurry..."
 He was fading out of consciousness. He could feel his
body being lifted. Don't pass out. If you do, you'll never
wake up again. He didn't know what made him feel so
strongly, but he was almost sure of it. The pain ebbed
away for a short while, and an image drifted into his mind
of Yamase as he collapsed to the ground and lay still.
―But Yamase-san didn't suffer.
He didn't roll around in pain. He aged instantaneously,
and passed away like a withering tree. Yamase's symptoms
were different from his. Maybe that means I still have a
chance―
His brain was pierced by smouldering red needles.
They were countless, and came from all directions. His
body writhed in pain that he had never experienced
before. His own screaming turned into scorching splinters
that stabbed through him. He began to sweat profusely.
He felt a strong wave of nausea. Blood and stomach fluids
welled up inside his mouth, and spilled over his lips.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
Shion no longer wanted to be saved, or to be spared
death. He wanted to be released from this pain, this
suffering. He didn't need to open his eyes. He didn't need
to live. He wasn't asking for much. He just wanted to be
released―
He felt like someone had grabbed him by the hair from
behind, and was dragging him into the darkness. He felt
relieved. All he had to do was lend himself to it, and he
would be taken to a better place. He would finally be able
to sleep.
A thick, bitter liquid was being poured into his mouth.
It was hot. It slid down his throat, and Shion could feel
himself rise up out of the darkness. But it also meant that
he was being pulled back into the throes of suffering.
"Keep your eyes open." A pair of grey eyes were
peering into his face.
"Nezumi... I can't take it..." Shion implored faintly.
"Let me go..."
He was slapped sharply across the face.
"Don't bullshit me. You're not going anywhere. Drink
up." The strong and bitter liquid was forcefully poured
into his mouth again. The darkness was lifting. Weak
pulses of pain throbbed in his head.
Nibble nibble nibble... nibble nibble...
Shion thought he heard a sound― or was it a
hallucination? It was the sound of his brain being eaten
alive. There was a mass of countless black little insects.
They crawled all over his brain, making nibbling sounds,
Eating. Eating. Eating.
Was it a hallucination? Or was it... it hurt terribly. He
couldn't bear it. And he was terrified. A scream tore
through his throat.
"That's it. Yell. Don't give up. You're still sixteen. It's
too early to throw in the towel just yet."
 Shion felt the strength leave his body. He felt heavy,
as if he was being tied to a lead weight. He felt
suffocated. But the pain had receded just a little.
"Keep screaming. Stay conscious. I'm going to cut it
open."
There was a silver scalpel in Nezumi's hand.
"I don't have anything fancy like an electronic scalpel,
just to let you know. Don't move."
Whether it was because half of his nerves had gone
numb from severe pain, or because all the strength had
left his body, he didn't know, but Shion didn't move a
muscle. He couldn't move.
There were three mice, sitting side-by-side atop a pile
of books. Above them, a round clock was hanging on the
wall. It was an analog clock. Tick, tick, tick. He could hear
its sound. It was his first time hearing the sounds of time
passing by. A second passed, then a minute. Time
engraved itself. It passed, gentle, meandering, and vague.
The world before him blurred. His cheeks were hot. A tear
slid down, touched his lips, and was absorbed, still hot,
into the sheets.
"It's over." Nezumi let out a long breath. Was the
metallic clink the sound of the scalpel hitting the floor?
"The bleeding isn't too bad. Does it hurt?"
"No... " rasped Shion. "I just wanna go to sleep..."
"Not yet. Hang in there for a little more."
 Nezumi's voice faded away. Shion could only hear the
sound of the clock ticking.
"Shion."
He was being shaken.
"Keep your eyes open. Just a little more―please―open
your eyes."
Shut up, he wanted to say. Shut up, shut up. A little
more? How long is a little more?
"Don't give me this shit. You put me through all this
trouble― you can't just go off on your own. Shion, you
know what that means? Your mama's going to cry. What're
you gonna do about that girl, huh? Safu, or whatever her
name is. Have you ever even slept with a girl before? What
a waste it was to turn down that invitation."
Shut up. Stop talking. Just stop....
"You don't know anything yet. About sex, or books, or
how to fight properly. And you still think you don't need to
go on living? Shion! Open your eyes!"
He opened his eyes. He saw four pairs of eyes staring
back at him. One pair was grey, and they belonged to a
human. The other three pairs were grape-coloured, and
belonged to the mice.
"There's a good kid. I'll praise you for that."
"Nezumi..."
"Hm?"
 "I... didn't get your name..."
"My name?"
"Your real... name..."
"Well, there's one more thing you don't know. I'll tell
you when you recover completely, and that'll be your
get-well present. Look forward to it."
He was fed the bitter liquid several more times. He
drifted off to sleep only to be woken up again. Shion felt
like he had repeated this countlessly. He broke into a
fever. He perspired heavily, and vomited again and again.
It felt like all the moisture in his body was being wrung
out of him.
"Water...."
He pleaded repeatedly, and each time, a cool draught
watered his throat.
"It tastes good..."
"Doesn't it? The world's not such a bad place after all."
Nezumi's hand slowly caressed Shion's hair.
"It's alright now. Go to sleep."
"Can I...?"
"Yeah. You're past the worst of it. You've won. That's
quite something." The fingers that stroked his hair were
gentle, as was the tone of Nezumi's voice. Relief washed
over his body. Shion closed his eyes, and dropped off into
a slumber.
***

With a hand still laid on his hair, Nezumi was checking

Shion's breathing as he slept. It was a little weak, but
relaxed. It was not erratic.
―You made it through.
It was quite something. He wasn't exaggerating out of
politeness or encouragement. Shion housed a lot more
vitality than his looks gave away. It was a vitality that was
tenacious and strong. Nezumi gazed at Shion's sleeping
face― exhausted and weakened, but still breathing
regularly nonetheless― and realized how tired he himself
was as well. He was mentally, not physically, exhausted.
He could neither understand nor come to terms with what
he had just experienced. A sense of unease consumed his
mind and made his very blood tingle.
―What's happening in there?
No. 6. Something was beginning to brew in the
interiors of what they called the Holy City. Something that
exceeded the depths of human imagination was being
born, and developing slowly but surely. Nezumi dug into
the very back of a shelf and pulled out a petri dish. It
contained something he had removed from under Shion's
skin when he had cut the blister open.
―I can't believe this.
 Yes, unbelievable things happened sometimes. Reality
betrayed people almost too easily, and yanked people's
lives at whim in unexpected directions. At times, it flung
them to the depths of despair. It was cruel and violent.
Absurd, even. It couldn't be trusted. Anything could
happen at any time.
Nezumi knew it well. But he couldn't help being
perturbed by this reality. Was it possible for something
like this to happen? ―But the truth was that it had already
happened. It was something that couldn't be brushed
away, and he couldn't turn a blind eye to it now.
Nezumi returned to Shion's bedside. He lightly stroked
Shion's hair again.
―When you wake up, will you be able to believe this
reality?
Would he be able to handle it? Here was a boy who
had been cradled and sheltered in the Holy City's core
until the age of twelve. Until sixteen, he lived in Lost
Town ― the outskirts of the city, but still part of it
nevertheless ― and as a citizen, he was treated as such.
Would someone who had been housed in such a protective
shell be able to handle reality? Was he strong enough?
―Probably not weak enough to be crushed, though.
But he didn't know. He didn't know how much strength
or weakness resided in the boy sleeping quietly before
him. Whether he would withstand it, or collapse ―Nezumi
didn't know. But Shion had survived, and that was another
reality. To survive, you had to sink your teeth into Life and
hold fast. No matter if it was unsightly or harsh ― those
who desired Life most greedily were the ones that
survived. Nezumi, from experience, was painfully aware of
this fact. The boy before him possessed that avarice. It
was far more difficult to survive in an unsightly manner
than to die a beautiful and heroic death. It also held much
more value. Of this fact as well, Nezumi was painfully
aware.
―You'll be alright.
Nezumi moistened Shion's parched lips with water.
Then he quietly opened the door and slipped outside.
Dawn was breaking. The sky was lightening from black to
purple, and a sprinkling of stars winked in the sky.
"No. 6." Nezumi addressed the mammoth city darkly
looming in the distance. "You just wait. Some day, I'll
carve out that infection of yours, and lay it out in the
open."
A streak of light shot across the sky. A flock of birds
took flight. The sun was rising. Morning was coming. The
West Block was still thrown in the depths of darkness, but
the Holy City, bathed in the light of the rising sun,
glittered as if to laugh in contempt at it. Nezumi stood
still, facing the City in silence.
***
The streets below were brimming with light. He never
tired of gazing out at the morning scene from this room;
that was how magnificent it was.
 ―Exquisite.
The orderly streets, and the lush colours of the
abundant trees that lined them were beautiful. It was a
place of full functionality and vigour. Nowhere could one
find anything wasteful or ugly. This was a product of
human hands, the highest possible―
There was a chime. A monitor set into the wall
flickered, and displayed the long, thin face of a man.
"I apologize for disturbing you so early in the morning."
"No need. I've been waiting for you."
"The investigation is complete. I would like to report
the results to you directly, in person."
"In person? That's rather cautious of you. Is there
something amiss?"
"The suspect has escaped."
"It seems so― I've heard. But surely that's not of overt
importance."
"He was involved in it. He aided in the suspect's
escape."
The man on the screen pushed his glasses up his nose.
They were rimmed black, and visibly old-fashioned.
Perhaps he was under the impression that they suited him
best, because he had not changed his frames once for the
past ten years.
"Are you sure of that?"
 "We've confirmed it. The vocal signatures match."
"Aiding in escape, huh... and his method?"
"I'll report all the details to you shortly."
"Understood. I'll be waiting."
"If you'll excuse me, then."
The image disappeared, and the monitor faded back
into the wall. The man let his gaze wander around him,
then out the custom glass panels of his window to the sky
that expanded beyond. It was a deep blue that pierced his
eyes. The seasons were taking their course again.
―So you've come back.
What did he return for? Why did show himself again? A
single petal loosened itself from the bunch of roses
displayed on his desk, and fluttered silently to the floor.
―You should have stayed quietly where you were...
idiot.
He crushed the crimson petal with his foot. It smeared
on the lush carpet, leaving a stain that reminded him of
blood.

***
Yamase was squatted on the floor, hugging his knees,
his head bowed. He looked like a child sulking after being
scolded.
 "Yamase-san." Shion called over to him. There was no
answer.
"Yamase-san, what's wrong?"
Yamase dissolved into tears.
"Yamase-san, don't cry."
Shion placed a hand on Yamase's shoulder. Yamase's
anguished sobbing tore at his heart. It was painful just to
listen to him.
"What's making you cry like this? Is there anything I can
do?"
"There is." Yamase's hand grasped Shion's ankle.
"Shion, I don't want to be alone. Why did you have to
get saved?"
"Huh?"
"Come with me," he pleaded. "You will, won't you?"
"Yamase-san, what―?"
The hand grasping his ankle changed colour. It was
beginning to rot. Chunks of flesh decayed and fell away
from Yamase's arm. Shion could see his bone peeking
through.
"We'll go together... right?"
Shion's ankle was being tugged harder. He was being
dragged into total darkness. Yamase's arm continued to rot
as it grew in length, and wound around Shion's torso until
it finally reached his neck and began to choke him.
 "No―stop―"
"Shion...."
Shion reached out as far as he could. He felt
something firm and definite, and closed his hand around
it, gripping hard. And he screamed.
"No!"
Shion awoke with a start. His throat was painfully dry.
"No, what?" Nezumi was peering into his face with a
serious expression.
"Nezumi...." Shion murmured dazedly. "Oh... I'm
alive...."
"You are. Congratulations on your safe return. And I'm
sorry for ruining your moment, but can you let go of my
hand? You're holding on pretty tight, and it hurts."
He had been grasping Nezumi's hand, so strongly that
his fingers were digging into his flesh. He had clung to this
hand to escape from the darkness.
"Want some water?"
"Yeah," Shion said gratefully.
The water was cold, and quenched every corner of
Shion's body.
"I remember you giving me water like this... again and
again." Words formed slowly on Shion's lips, and left them
in awkward fragments.
 "There's a spring nearby that's not too bad. It's free, so
you don't need to worry."
"You... saved me again."
"I'm not the one that saved you. There aren't any
adequate doctors or medical facilities here anyway, and
even if there were, they wouldn't have done any good. No
one could have saved you. You brought yourself back. You
put up quite the fight. I'm a bit impressed, actually. I
promise I won't call you a little boy anymore."
"It's all... thanks to you..."
Shion brought his hand up to his face to gaze at it. It
felt somewhat dry and rough, but there were no spots or
wrinkles on it. It was still the same young hand. He
breathed a sigh of relief.
"I had a bad dream...." Shion began softly. "I wanted
someone to help me, and I reached out as far as I could...
and I grabbed onto your hand."
"That frightening, huh?"
"Yamase-san was there― he told me I can't be the only
one to be saved... his arm was wrapping around me, from
my torso to my neck..." Shion trailed off to feel at his
neck. It was wrapped in bandages.
"From your torso to your neck?" Nezumi gave a short
intake of breath. He lowered his gaze, and moved away
from the bed.
 "Yamase-san was never the kind of person to say
that..." Shion continued reflectively. "He would have been
happy for me, that I was saved... why would he come into
my dreams and...."
"Because you feel guilty about it," Nezumi said shortly,
wrapping the superfibre cloth around his shoulders. A
mouse leapt up onto one shoulder from a pile of books.
"That Yamase guy died, and you survived. You're feeling
guilty over it, and that's why you're having stupid dreams
like that."
"Everything's stupid or useless to you, isn't it...."
"Whoever lives wins. Don't feel guilty about having
survived. If you have time to be feeling guilty, work on
living a day longer, a minute longer. And once in a while,
remember the ones that died before you. That's good
enough."
"Are you saying that to me?" Shion questioned.
"Who else could I be talking to?"
"It sounded like―" Shion hesitated. "Almost like you
were telling it to yourself..."
Nezumi blinked. He stared at Shion for a moment, and
then muttered "ridiculous" under his breath.
Shion tried to lift himself up on the bed. He still
couldn't move his body as well as he wanted. He noticed
that his entire torso was wrapped tightly in bandages.
"Why are there so many..."
 "You were tearing at yourself in pain, that's why. Lie
down, it's still too early to move around. And take the
medicine by your pillow. When I get home, I'll treat you to
some soup."
"You're going out?"
"I have work."
Nezumi turned his back to Shion, and briskly left the
room.

Shion swallowed the white pill as he was told to. A

brown mouse squeaked at him from beside a glass of
water.
"Thanks."
The mouse nodded as if it understood his word of
thanks, and perched on Shion's chest as he lay back down.
"What kind of work does your master do?"
Cheep cheep.
"What's his name? What kind of life has he lived until
now? Where was he born, and what...." he trailed off. He
was getting drowsy. It seemed his body was in want of a
little more quiet rest. Shion nodded off to sleep. This
time, he had no dreams. When he awoke, the heaviness
and lethargy in his body had disappeared. He didn't feel
any discomfort other than a dull pain from the wound on
his neck. His body was recovering quickly.
 There was no one else in the room. It looked like
Nezumi had not returned yet. A dim darkness had settled,
and it was quiet. Shion turned his head to see the three
mice curled up fast asleep by his neck. He rose quietly,
and put on his shoes. He wanted badly to catch a breath in
the outdoors. He wanted to fill his lungs with fresh air.
Shion took several cautious steps. He was sweating
underneath the bandages on his neck and chest. He
unwound the ones around his neck. Now it was much
easier to breathe. His feet were light, and he didn't feel
dizzy or nauseous. Shion opened the door and climbed up
the stairs. A cold draft of air stung him. The world at
ground level was bathed in a reddish light. It was dusk.
Coloured leaves were falling from the trees. They danced
in the wind, and with a dry rustling sound, fluttered to the
ground. Looking above, he could see the dark branches of
the trees, mostly bare, cast in stark relief against the sky.
In the distance, he could see No. 6.
Shion felt a hot pricking at the back of his eyes. It
wasn't from nostalgia for the city where he was born and
raised. It was the sights of late autumn, this unremarkable
scene, that had tugged at his heart. The faint rustling of
the fallen leaves, the smell of earth, the colour of the sky,
all resonated in his heart deeply as if to coax the tears
from him.
―He'll have another good laugh if he sees me like this.
Shion bit his lip to hold back his tears. He inhaled
deeply.
 He heard the sound of high voices raised in laughter
behind him. Shion turned around, and saw three children
amongst the trees, coming up the slope toward him. There
were two girls and one boy. Did these children live in the
ruined house that he had seen earlier? They all had similar
round faces. He didn't know what they were laughing so
joyously about, but Shion felt his own feelings lift just
watching them. Karan loved children, and always used to
hold sales that went by names like "Half Price for Children
Under Ten", so the bakery was always filled with the
voices of small children. That was inside No. 6. This was
outside No. 6. But despite how bizarre the world on this
side of the wall was, the sound of children's laughter was
still the same.
The girl, who looked the oldest out of all of them,
noticed Shion first. She stopped in her tracks and opened
her eyes wide. Her face stiffened. Shion didn't meant to
scare her. He raised his hand in greeting and spoke first.
"Hi there."
The small boy standing behind the girl burst into tears.
"Huh? Oh, don't cry―" Shion made to take a step closer.
The girl's face contorted.
"Snake!" she shrieked.
Hastily scooping up the boy in her arms and taking the
other girl by her hand, she clambered back down the
slope. Her shriek echoed high into the sunset. Shion stood
in stunned silence.
 ―Snake? What did she scream for? What snake?
He didn't understand the girl's words.
―What did she see?
He turned around. There was nothing save for the
scenery of late autumn. There were no snakes, or birds.
There was no sign of any living thing.
―Did the shadows of the branches look like a snake to
her? ...No, that girl was looking straight at me. She was
looking only at me.
Shion shivered. His scalp was tingling. He ran a hand
roughly through his bangs, and pulled hard. It was a habit
of his when he was agitated.
"What―"
Shion's breath caught in his throat. There were a few
hairs clinging between his fingers. They were an
almost-transparent shade of white. They caught the light
of the setting sun, and glimmered.
"How―what―"
He raked his head, pulling out more hairs. They were
all the same. He felt his face. The skin under his palm was
firm. There were no wrinkles or sags. But he felt a strange
sensation on his neck. There was a slight swell under his
skin that was winding around his neck. Shion half-tumbled
down the stairs in haste.
―A mirror, I need a mirror...
 He knocked over a pile of books. The startled mice
darted underneath the bed. He found a wooden door next
the the bathroom. He opened it, and found a space about
big enough for one person to lie down or stand up. The
back wall looked like a mirror. There were various things
hanging on the other walls, but Shion was in no mood to
check. He turned on the light, and moved closer to the
mirror. His legs quaked. His hands were trembling. But he
forced himself to gaze into the mirror.
He gave a faint cry of horror.
What was he seeing in the mirror? What was this...
this....
Snake!
The girl's shriek welled up and echoed in his ears. He
needed air, else he felt like he would suffocate. He
couldn't breathe. Shion staggered, and leaned heavily
against the wall. He stared at himself in the mirror. His
eyes were glued to it, and they would not move. He
couldn't look away.
His hair was white and shining. And there was a snake.
A red serpent, about two centimetres wide, was coiled
around his neck. That was what it looked like. He had no
doubt about it.
"This can't be..." He shed his clothes. He tried to tear
off the bandages that wrapped his entire body. They had
been wound tightly with care, and they tangled and
knotted as if to mock Shion's fumbling hands. When at last
the ends of the bandage had fallen away from his body,
Shion gave a strangled cry. The crimson band that had
risen up on his skin began from his left ankle, coiled up his
leg and extended across his crotch and torso, wound past
his armpit and reached up to his neck. It was, literally,
like a snake that was strangling him. It was slithering over
his naked body. A red meander scar. The strength was
leaving his knees. He sank slowly onto the unravelled
bandages.
White hair and a red serpent. This was the price he
had paid to survive.
"Do you enjoy looking at yourself naked?" a voice
spoke, so low it was almost a whisper. Nezumi was leaning
on the door behind him.
"Nezumi― this―"
"It appeared just as your fever went down. The
affection is only skin-deep, it's not because your veins are
engorged. Which means there's been no damage to your
circulation system. Isn't that nice?"
"Nice? What's nice about this? This is..."
"If you don't like it, you can get rid of it," Nezum said
quietly. "Skin grafting is no big feat in this time and age,
right? As for your hair, you can dye it another colour. I
don't see any problem. But just letting you know―" he
shrugged slightly, "we can do something about your hair,
but you won't be able to graft your skin here. We don't
have the technology or facilities for that." His voice was
calm and emotionless, and contained not the smallest hint
of sympathy. Shion remained sitting where he was,
absentmindedly gazing at the bandage that was tangled
around his leg.
"Shion."
"...Yeah...."
"Do you regret being alive?"
It took a moment for Shion to respond.
"―What?" he said vaguely. "Oh― did you say
something?"
Nezumi sighed and knelt down in front of Shion,
hooking a finger on his chin. He forcefully tilted Shion's
face up.
"Stop looking down, and look at me. Snap out of your
daze and listen to what I'm saying. Are you lamenting it?"
"Lamenting...? What?"
"Being alive."
"Lament... you mean... like wishing it didn't happen,
right..."
"Obviously. No," said Nezumi sarcastically, "I was
speaking French, like la menthe, for mint[1]. Really? Get a
grip on yourself. Has something happened to that gifted
brain of yours?"
Regret? Toward living? Was he lamenting the fact that
he was alive and sitting here, looking as he did now? Shion
slowly shook his head.
"No, I'm not."
 He didn't want to die. Even if he had been struck
down, he would have crawled across the ground to stay
alive. He had no clear goals or hopes. He had no sight of
the future. His body had changed startlingly, and his soul
was in turmoil. But he still did not want to die.
Life was in the delicious taste of the water that
quenched his throat. It was in the colour of the sky that
spread before his eyes, the tranquil evening air, freshly
baked bread, the definite sensation of someone's fingers,
soft, secretive laughter; 'Shion, what do you hope for?';
the unexpected confession, uncertainty and hesitation. All
these things were connected to being alive. No matter
what his appearance became, he didn't want to be cut
away from any of these.
"Nezumi...." he whispered. "I― I want to be alive."
The tears that he had held back until now gave way. A
single droplet spilled over his cheek. He hastily brushed it
away.
"It's no use hiding it, stupid," sighed Nezumi softly.
"How can you cry so openly like that? Aren't you
embarrassed?"
"I just let my guard down, okay?" said Shion crossly.
"I'm having trouble controlling myself because I'm not
emotionally stable yet. I'm a recovering patient, so stop
making fun of me."
Nezumi silently gazed at Shion's face, and then
reached out to gently grasp at his hair.
 "If it bothers you so much, I'll dye it for you later. But
it looks pretty nice on its own. And besides―" Nezumi's
fingers moved to trace the red scar across Shion's chest.
"Think about it, you've got a red snake coiled around
your body. Quite alluring, I'll say."
"I'm not flattered at all."
"Well I don't enjoy seeing you naked either," Nezumi
retorted. "Put some clothes on. I'll treat you to some hot
specialty soup and meat."
Come to think of it, it had been a long time since he
had eaten any food. There was a burning sensation around
Shion's stomach as hunger suddenly gnawed at him.
"What kind of soup? Need any help?"
Nezumi blinked.
"You bounce back pretty fast, don't you?"
"Huh?"
Nezumi's voice suddenly dropped low and hoarse.
'Round about the cauldron go.
In the poisoned entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights has thirty-one
Sweltered venom sleeping got,
[2]
Boil thou first i' the charmèd pot.'
"What's that?"
 "Macbeth. The scene where the three witches are
brewing newt eyes, frog feet, and bat wings in a cauldron,
making their special soup. Charming, isn't it?"
"If that's your idea of specialty soup, I'll have to say no
thanks."
"Instead of bat wings we'll use chicken, and instead of
newts we'll toss in lots of fresh vegetables. We'll substitute
the frogs for a clove of garlic. Just a moment's wait, your
Majesty."
Nezumi's specialty soup was piping hot, and more
delicious than anything Shion had ever tasted.

-- END OF CHAPTER 4 --
***

CHAPTER 5
The City of Light

After their meal, Nezumi placed a petri dish and a pair

of tweezers in front of Shion.
"I extracted this out of your incision. Try opening it up.
This is probably right in your field."
"My field?"
In the petri dish was something black and stringy,
about two centimetres long. Shion plucked it up with the
tweezers. The slimy black object dangled from them, and
looked half-melted. Upon closer scrutiny, Shion could
make out evidence of something filmy at the end of it.
"These are― wings?"
"Looks like. I have no idea. There's one other thing I
pulled out too," Nezumi added. "What do you have to say
about this?"
It was another black lump. This one was hard, and
resembled a seed. There was a hole in it as if something
had eaten its way out.
"A pupa― I think," said Shion slowly.
"Pupa? Like what moths and butterflies make
themselves into? Oh wait, butterflies make cocoons."
"Cocoons are the outer shell of pupae," Shion
explained. "Embryo, larva, pupa, and imago― most insects
go through their development stages in this order. This
one... is probably some kind of bee."
"You can tell?"
"There are signs of wings beginning to form. The
membranous qualities, the fact that there are four of
them... and more than anything―" Shion swallowed. "I saw
it with my own eyes― a black bee flying out of
Yamase-san's neck."
"And that bee and this black thing are the same thing?"
"If I'm not mistaken, probably. This one couldn't
complete its metamorphosis in the pupal stage. It
managed to eat its way out of the shell, but it couldn't
become a fully grown imago. It failed."
"Why?"
Why? He was right, why was that? Why was same bee
that had hatched, undergone metamorphosis and become
an imago inside Yamase unable to break out of its pupal
stage here? Was it a coincidence, or― Shion shook his
head.
"I don't know. All I know is that this is a parasitic
organism, and it feeds off humans."
Nezumi stared unblinkingly at the petri dish.
"A parasite bee..." he muttered. "I thought bees only
fed off flower nectar."
"Those are just one species of bee, like the honey bee.
Most bees ― or wasp, in this case ― are hunters, and
solitary by nature."
"And there are parasitic wasps too?"
Shion nodded. Nezumi's questions were simple and
brief, and were easy to answer from Shion's knowledge.
But none of the questions were off the mark. They tread
lightly but accurately on the point of focus. With each
question he answered, Shion felt a growing uneasiness like
he was being backed into a corner. He felt like he would
unwittingly slip and let something horrific escape from his
lips. But you can't be afraid, he told himself. He couldn't
turn a blind eye and let things slip past him. He couldn't
pretend that nothing had happened, and refuse to
enquire, to take action. He stood in the position of one
who had experienced it. He had been host to the parasite,
fought with it, and prevailed. And like a symbol of this
battle, he bore the red serpent on his body. Yes, this was
his imprint. Nezumi's face was peering into his. Shion
returned his gaze steadily, and spoke.
"There are said to be about 200,000 different species
of parasitic wasps. Hymenoptera such as bees and ants are
highly specialized insects, and there are still tens of
thousands of species that are undocumented. This is
particularly so for parasitic wasps― or so I've heard."
"Which means we don't know what we're gonna get."
"We can't say what species for sure."
"But we can still predict."
"If we have any foundation for a basis of prediction,"
Shion answered.
"Why, you're the best foundation there is," said Nezumi
with mock enthusiasm. "So how was it, being a host to a
parasite wasp? Could you tell if it was a new species?"
"You're really disagreeable sometimes, did you know
that?" Shion replied irritably.
"Well, you piss me off all the time. 'We can't say what
species for sure', he says. Don't mess around. Don't you
have any sense of danger? These wasps are killing people."
"Most parasitic wasps do."
"What?"
 "Wasps that are classified as parasites are actually
more parasitoid. To reach full growth, they only need to
attach themselves to one prey... their host. And
ultimately, without fail, they consume and kill it."
Ultimately without fail, they consume and kill the
host. It sounded even more grotesque when put into
words.
"Host? Like what kind?"
"There are lots. Moths, butterflies, ant larvae, fruits...
a species of ichneumonoideae called Rhysella
approximator lays eggs in the larva of another species,
xiphydriida, and makes it its host."
"So a wasp leeches off another wasp."
"Not only that, but another species of the same
ichneumonoideae called Pseudorhyssa alpestris lays eggs
in the same xiphydriida right after the Rhysella, and its
larva eats both the larva of the Rhysella and the
xiphydriida."
"So they kill each other even if they're from the same
species... wow, I thought only humans killed their own
kind. So?"
"Hm?"
"Are there parasite wasps that attach to humans as
hosts?"
"I've never heard of any," replied Shion. "There are
other organisms that are parasitic to humans ― viruses,
bacteria, ticks, fleas, and the like. I've heard once of a
warble fly that laid eggs in a boy's head, and one of them
invading his brain, but that was an unusual case, I think...
I've never heard of any wasps doing that. The question is,"
Shion said thoughtfully, "how was it able to lay eggs in a
human body in the first place? How did it pierce the skin
with its ovipositor without being noticed?"
"You have no memory of it?"
"No. I didn't feel any pain or itch. It never crossed my
mind that I'd been stung by a wasp."
"So they can lay their eggs without their host noticing
at all."
"Not only that, they also grow with astonishing speed.
And when they do, they must excrete some sort of
substance that rapidly accelerates ageing in the host, and
inevitably leads them to death. Even the process of rigor
mortis and dissipation gets sped up. And finally, as a
full-grown imago, the parasite wasp eats its way out of
the body and escapes outside."
There was a moment of silence.
Shion and Nezumi looked at each other, and exhaled at
the same time.
"I'm surprised you lived through it."
"Yeah. I'm starting to get the cold sweats just thinking
about it."
 "There are too many things we don't know," said
Nezumi. "Where did this guy come from? What is it?"
"Hey―" Shion said suddenly. "Have there been any
similar incidents like that here?"
"No. I did a little research because it was nagging me
too. There were guys who got shot to death fighting, or
people who got drunk and drowned in a ditch, but no one
who suddenly turned old and died. There's no media
control or censorship here like No. 6," Nezumi added, "so
if anything out of the ordinary happens, it should spread
like wildfire."
"Then if it's happened in another Block―" suggested
Shion. "The Southeastern Blocks, maybe? That
environment is probably the most suited for a new species
of insect to appear."
Nezumi shook his head slowly.
"I can't imagine that happening. If it did, the city
should close all the gates leading in. But they haven't
shown any signs of doing that. Produce is still being
shipped in from the Southeastern Blocks as usual. The
North Block is the same."
"Then the wasp definitely must have come from No.
6.... I can't believe it," Shion muttered to himself.
"Unbelievable― you're certainly right about that."
Nezumi's fingers lightly tapped the petri dish. His
shoulders shook slightly.
"Nezumi?"
 Nezumi's head was bowed, and a quiet chuckle
escaped his lips. It soon turned into howling laughter. It
echoed in the underground room that overflowed with
books. Nezumi collapsed on the bed, holding his stomach
and laughing harder still. Shion lunged for a pitcher of
water, and emptied it on Nezumi's head.
"Hey!" Nezumi sprang up. "What the hell are you
doing?"
"Are you alright?"
"Alright? I'm soaking wet here."
"I just― I thought you were undergoing a fit of hysteria
or something, so I..."
"What do I have to throw a hysteric fit for?"
"Well, you started laughing randomly, I just thought..."
"I only laughed because it was funny."
"Funny? What is?"
Nezumi shook his head violently. Shion's face was
pelted with water droplets.
"It's hilarious, isn't it? Where did this thing originate?
No. 6. There's a mysterious man-eating wasp flying around
in this utopian model city, the Holy City, if you will. This is
city of the future, the epitome of modern science. And it's
being eaten by bees. Hilarious."
"It's not something to laugh about. People are dying."
 Nezumi stood up. He walked over to Shion, and drew
up to him face-to-face. Nezumi was right, Shion thought.
He was tall. He easily exceeded Shion in height by several
centimetres.
"What?" Shion unconsciously took a step backwards. He
drew himself up and squared his shoulders as best he
could in spite of the wall of books behind him. He had
seen something flash in Nezumi's grey eyes with a savage,
piercing glint. It was only for a fleeting instant, but he had
not missed it.
"Forgive my foolish question," Nezumi said in an
expressionless voice. At the same time, a set of fingers
closed around Shion's throat.
"Have you killed anyone before?" Nezumi's thumb
slowly dug deeper into Shion's neck.
"Never..." Shion said faintly. "Of course I haven't..."
Nezumi's thin lip curled slightly in a cold smile.
"I would've figured. But keep this in mind. The wasp
might kill its host in order to keep itself alive, but humans
can kill other humans for much smaller reasons than that.
And you were almost killed by another human."
"I know."
"You liar. You don't know anything."
"I do know!" Shion said angrily, clenching Nezumi's
wrist. "I know. If I'd been taken to the Correctional Facility
as planned, I would have been made out to be the
murderer in the wasp's place. At best, I would have gotten
a life sentence. At worst, I would have been executed..."
He paused for a moment, then continued determinedly.
"The Bureau wanted to buy more time. They needed time
to decode the truth about Yamase-san's cause of death―
and by making me the suspect, they wanted to file it away
as a simple murder case for outside eyes. Am I right?"
Nezumi's fingers withdrew. The spot on Shion's neck
burned where Nezumi's thumb had dug in.
"Good answer, full marks," he said breezily. Then his
tone dropped in mock seriousness. "It seems this
unbalanced young man, tumbled from the ranks of the
elite, engaged in this crime out of resentment for the city.
He allegedly concocted a special chemical to use
repeatedly in multiple criminal acts. Thanks to the efforts
of the Security Bureau, however, this young man has been
put under arrest. We would like to reassure the citizens of
the city that they are perfectly safe. ―It was probably
scripted somewhere along those lines," he broke off.
"What a ridiculous farce. I'm guessing your knowledge and
history fit the role of 'dangerous criminal' perfectly."
"The City has full access to all the citizens' personal
information," Shion answered. "It was probably easy to
find a person to fit the role they wanted."
"More like you were being marked from the beginning."
"Huh?"
"Ever since that day you helped me, the city's been
marking you as a cautionary suspect. They've been
scrutinizing your daily life down to every minute detail.
Who you met with, what you talked about, what you ate...
so I thought this murder case was something the city
devised to arrest you. I was wrong, though, and we know
that now."
"But why? For what purpose―"
"Because you're not a loyal citizen," Nezumi replied as
he towelled his hair off. His profile was delicately
chiseled. It looked almost like an artificial creation. It was
all too different from a face that had skin and blood
coursing through it, and carried bodily warmth, with
swells and dimples of flesh or fat, the occasional eczema;
a face that changed with joy, anger, grief or mirth, shone
with sweat, or stained with tears. This was no human
face― it looked like a doll that had been crafted with
utmost precision.
But even so, Shion thought, and clenched his fist. The
wrist he had grasped minutes ago had been warm, and
throbbing with a steady pulse.
"You're spaced out again. Am I boring you?"
"Huh? Oh, no― of course not. I was just wondering
what you meant by... not loyal." Shion's face flushed,
though he didn't know why. Nezumi sniffed dismissively.
"That city only accepts people who pledge absolute
loyalty to them. They don't allow people who resist,
object, or retaliate. They make sure any foreign object is
removed completely. That's how it's thrived up until now."
 "And I'm the foreign object this time."
"You're more than foreign to them― think about it. You
housed a VC, you held suspicions against the city for
manipulating information, and you saw the cruelty behind
their faҫade. As a citizen, you fail the test. You're an
unwanted candidate. The city was just waiting for the
right opportunity to get rid of you. ―Hey," Nezumi said
abruptly. "Tell me, what does the immune system do when
a virus invades a human body?"
"Huh?" Shion was caught off-guard. "Well, first the
natural killer cells― that's a type of lymphocyte― find the
cells that have been infected with the virus, and destroy
them. Then the ribonuclease become active and suppress
the spread of the virus. Next―"
"That's enough," Nezumi interrupted. "Geez, I set you
off explaining something, and you don't know when to
stop. That's why people get pissed off at you."
"You're the only one that seems to get irritated at me."
Nezumi ignored him and gave a short, derisive laugh.
"So basically, to the city, you're a virus. And that's why
they tried to erase you."
"I'm a human. I won't be erased that easily."
Nezumi sighed deeply in exasperation.
"It's easy for humans to kill other humans, you know."
Shion clenched his fists tightly again.
"But they can save people too."
 "What?"
"You saved me. Nezumi," he said earnestly, "parasite
wasps don't help each other out. But people can save
other people. Am I wrong?"
Nezumi smiled briefly, and his gaze slid away from
Shion.
"You're as stupid as they come. Hopeless. Where did
you think of that sickening cliché? I told you, I'm only
repaying my debt."
"And I told you, you've already paid enough."
"How generous of you to have such low estimations of
my debt," said Nezumi sarcastically.
"Then you must have had pretty high estimations."
Nezumi let out a long breath, and looked up at the
ceiling. He bit his lip in silence as if to grope for the right
words. The mice gathered around his feet.
"You don't understand," he said momentarily. "No
amount of words would probably make you understand.
That day, four years ago, I'd mostly given up. Giving up
means the end of you. I knew that. But there was no way
anyone would help me, or lend me a hand― that's what I
honestly thought. I couldn't ask for help, I had nowhere to
run.... I snuck into Chronos, so tired I couldn't move, and I
thought about how it was only a matter of time until I was
caught..." he paused, then spoke quietly. "I felt so―
humiliated. I wondered if the whole reason I'd been born
was just to die in humiliation like this.... don't laugh."
 Shion would never have been able to. The sounds of
that night four years ago were echoing in his ears. The
sounds of the wind, the trees, and the whipping rain
meshed and undulated, rising vivid and sharp in his mind.
And amidst the din and darkness, a sopping wet boy was
curled up on the floor.
"And then the window opened. You threw it open
wide, didn't you. And then you spread your arms open."
"Yeah, I remember. I felt really restless, and I wanted
to scream."
"To me, it looked like you were calling, beckoning for
me to come in. I thought― this was unbelievable, and it
was happening right this moment. And you even left the
window open when you ducked back inside."
"I was going to turn off the atmosphere control
system."
"I don't care for what reason. That window you left
recklessly open was my stroke of luck. And the fact that
you didn't call the Security Bureau on me, but instead
treated my wound and even gave me food was another
miracle. I found out for the first time that things like this
could happen. That a helping hand could be extended
miraculously like that.... you were the first one that
taught me. Like all of these―" Nezumi slowly looked about
his room.
"― These thousands of stories here, you taught me
that sometimes we encounter the most unexpected things.
And that's why I was able to survive...." he lapsed into
momentary silence. "So you're right. There are times when
people are saved by other people. And you're the one that
taught me that. You were the only one that taught me
that. The debt I owe for that is high― unfortunately for
me."
Nezumi's voice was so quiet it was almost a murmur,
but it was deep and clear, and rang pleasantly in Shion's
ears. So that's what it was, Shion thought, and spread his
fingers as he looked as his palm. That night, when he
threw the window open with these hands, he had called in
a miracle along with the wind.
"Don't get too carried away," said Nezumi, his words
quickly turning brusque. "I'm giving you the guest
treatment because I owe you. If you get carried away and
start acting cocky, I'm going to kick you out."
"Fine by me," said Shion mildly. "I don't know if you'll
take my word for it, but I'm not the type to get carried
away too easily. But how did you find out I was in danger?"
he asked curiously. "It's not like you were keeping constant
watch over me these four years, right?"
Nezumi plucked a grey mouse up and held it out at
Shion. It was the smallest among all the mice.
"Take a close look."
Shion held the mouse in his palm, and brought it close
to his face.
"Is this... a robot?"
 "Pretty well-made, isn't it? It has a set of built-in
sensors. This thing is small enough that it can slip through
the city's surveillance net and move around quite a bit.
Depends on the area, though."
"Did you make this?"
"Well, yeah," he said casually. "While I was away from
No. 6, this guy was the one sending me data about you."
Shion lightly closed his fingers around the mouse in his
hand. It had none of the warmth and softness that was
characteristic of living things. Conversely, he scooped up
one of the mice scurrying about his feet and held it in his
palm too. This one had a faint but definite warmth and
pulse.
"I didn't know when or how the city was planning to
get rid of you," Nezumi continued. "You're smart and
young. You still had plenty of usage value. I couldn't
imagine that they would kick you out so easily. I figured
once they discovered how useful you could be, they'd take
full advantage of it. Writing you up as a murderer was
probably a piece of cake for them. You were their
scapegoat," he sneered. "They were keeping you enclosed
in a corral until the ceremonial day, when they would drag
you out in front of everyone and make a flashy show of
chopping your head off."
"So I've gone from being a virus to a goat, huh. Not
much of an improvement."
"Hey, goats are cute. More lovable than you, anyway."
 "I appreciate the compliment," said Shion unamusedly.
"So this little guy sensed the change going on around me
and came to notify you."
"Yup. It started that day when that man died of
unnatural causes at the park where you worked. After
that, the Bureau started stepping up their surveillance on
you. And like adding icing to the cake, your co-worker got
killed too. It was the perfect opportunity to put you under
arrest."
"Surveillance― I didn't even know I was being
watched."
"They do it so you don't notice. Once you do, it's too
late."
"That's scary."
"You're noticing now?" Nezumi sniffed in derision. Shion
raked his bangs up. He was confused― about what had
happened, what was about to happen, and what he was
supposed to do from now on. He knew almost nothing. And
it was terrifying not to know. But there was one idea,
although it was a mere speculation, that had sparked in
Shion's mind.
***

"Nezumi."
"Hm?"
"Could it be the park?"
 "The what?"
"The Forest Park in the centre of the city. My
workplace― could that be where the parasite wasp
originated?"
"Why?" said Nezumi. "That park is right in the middle
of the city. It might be a forest, but it's still artificial. All
the wildlife is managed and controlled by the city. If a
parasite wasp sprung out of nowhere, they'd notice."
"That's true, but... out of all places in the city, the
park would be the most adequate environment for a new
species to appear. And all the victims so far, including me,
were in the park when it happened. Of course―" Shion
hesitated. "I don't know if there's been casualties
anywhere else― but I think part of the reason why the city
suspected me was because the incidents were
concentrated in that location. But if that's the case―"
"That monster must have been born there somehow
without being noticed by the control systems."
"It's plausible, right? And what's more, the park is
where lots of people gather."
"No shortage of hosts," said Nezumi grimly.
It was a park that was beautifully and conveniently
crafted for the citizens. If a species that preyed on
humans actually did inhabit it, then―
"Spring," Shion murmured.
Spring? Nezumi echoed in question.
 "Once winter comes, the wasps will cease activity as
they enter a dormant stage. The eggs that have been laid
already will probably pass the winter as they are."
"Inside people's bodies."
"Yeah. And when spring comes, they'll be able to
resume activity as an imago. Then they'll hatch all at
once." In a season abundant with sunlight and flower
blossoms, a mass of black wasps would simultaneously
break out of people's bodies to take flight. How many
would they be? How many people would be sacrificed?
"We have to do something."
"And how are you gonna 'do something' about it?"
replied Nezumi bluntly. "Don't even think about going back
to the city. You'll be killed. You're an amateur, you can't
pull any fancy tricks like slipping past surveillance.
Ten-to-one, as soon as you step inside the city, you'll be
shot dead. We don't have a trump card to pull out, you
know."
"Actually― I think we might."
Nezumi narrowed his eyes.
"I survived that wasp attack. There's a chance that I've
developed antibodies that resist the toxin. If I have, then
it'll be possible to make a serum out of my blood."
Nezumi shot an appalled look at Shion and hunched his
shoulders exaggeratedly.
 "And then what're you gonna do? Go waltzing into the
city's Health Bureau and say 'Please check my blood. And if
you like, please make a serum out of it'? That's idiotic.
They'll probably suck all your blood out and throw you in
the trash with the rest of their organic garbage. Sure,
what you're saying is impressive, but are you prepared to
risk losing your life for these people?"
"I don't want to die."
"Then don't think about useless things. Whether you
have antibodies or not, once you're caught, you're going to
get killed anyway. It's just a matter of how soon or how
late."
"Then what should I do?"
"Don't do anything. Just leave them to fend for
themselves."
Shion lifted his face.
"Leave them?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah. What a magnificent stage it'll be," Nezumi
sneered. "You can watch the Holy City crumble into ruin,
glowing in the light of spring. And you'll have the best
seats in the house."
"Nezumi!" Shion raised his voice sharply.
"Whoa, don't go dumping water on me again."
"Are you under the impression that the West Block is
safe from this?" he said incredulously. "We're human
beings, the same as them. There's no knowing when the
wasps might attack us too."
Nezumi fell silent. A crooked smile played on his lips.
"We're not the same."
"What―"
"The people inside the city sure don't see the residents
of the West Block as the same human beings. You still
don't know what kind of place this is, do you? This is the
Holy City's garbage dump. No. 6 has thrived by throwing
everything it doesn't want out here. You should take a
good look and see for yourself."
"Nezumi..."
"This is just my hunch, but listen," he continued. "That
monster is probably only going to choose residents of No. 6
to be its host― the people who have pushed everything
dirty into the hands of others to live in that perfectly
hygienic environment, well-nourished and in excellent
health. Mr. Monster has gourmet tastes."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I have no clue about the biology of insects, Shion. But
I'm probably right in guessing that any bee, wasp, ant or
grasshopper will appear most in places where there's the
most food. In terms of population density, we're much
higher than the city. But do you see any sign of the
monster here? No. Which means that there are simply no
prey, no hosts here. Right?"
 Shion was at a loss for words. His thoughts were
becoming tangled, and there was a dull pain throbbing at
the back of his head. Nezumi's hand touched his cheek.
"Sorry―" he said softly. "I didn't mean to give you a
hard time. I forgot. You're from the other side, the inside
of the wall."
"I don't understand what you mean by inside and
outside."
"Of course you wouldn't," Nezumi said gently. "That's
normal. You guys have probably never tried to understand
what was going on outside your walls, have you? You
probably weren't even curious about it. Oblivious,
arrogant, blissful people... But you, poor thing," he
murmured. "You've fallen off that pedestal."
Which means I can no longer be oblivious, arrogant or
blissful anymore. Is that what you want to say? Shion let
his gaze speak for him as he looked Nezumi in the eye.
If arrogance is knowing nothing and never having tried
to know, and if my blissful life until now has been built
upon this arrogance, then sure, I don't mind throwing
everything away. Falling off my pedestal would be the
best thing that could have happened to me.
"Nezumi," he said steadily.
"Hm?"
"I want to know the truth. I want to know what's real,
what's happening to this world I'm living in. I want to see
its true face."
 Nezumi hunched his shoulders and flashed him a wry
smile.
"Such youthful words."
"We're the same age."
"I have more life experience than you. Geez, I don't
know who else would rattle off a line as embarrassing as 'I
want to know the truth'. Except Hamlet, maybe."
"Who's that?"
"A prince of Denmark. I think you should balance out
that knowledge bias before working on knowing the truth.
You really know next to nothing about classics, huh?"
"Well, I've never needed them before..." frowned
Shion. "The Arts weren't encouraged much, so..."
Nezumi reached into the shelves and pulled out two
books.
"If what you're saying is true, then once winter comes,
the commotion will die down. Which means we have a
moratorium until spring."
"Probably."
"Then there's no need to get worked up," he said airily.
"Nothing will come of it. So until you recover and you're
well enough to move around, you can read him these."
"Him?"
A brown mouse scurried up onto Shion's knee, and
stood on its hind legs.
 "He loves Macbeth. The other is Faust. Ever heard of
it?"
"No."
Nezumi grimaced, and heaved an exaggerated sigh.
'If feeling prompt not, if it doth not flow
Fresh from the spirit's depths, with strong control
Swaying to rapture every listener's soul,
Idle your toil; the chase you may forego!'[1]
"―is how it goes. You should give your brain a break
and work on training your soul. Your Mama used to read to
you, right?"
"Yeah."
The mouse squeaked insistently.
"Oh, right. Speaking of Mama, I have a message from
yours. I almost forgot."
"Huh?"
A faint colour rose in Nezumi's cheeks as he
obstinately turned aside.
"Well, since you managed not to die... I figured it
wouldn't hurt to tell your mother that you're over here
now. "
"You went to see my mother?"
"Not me," he said brusquely, "I stayed in the
underground tunnel. This guy―"
The brown mouse tilted its head to one side.
 "―He went for me, with the note in his mouth. One of
the oldest tricks in the book, but surprisingly, it got past
surveillance without being noticed."
"Thank you."
"Stop that." Nezumi pulled a face. "Don't give me that
teary-eyed look. Aren't you embarrassed at all?"
"I was talking to this little mouse here."
"Oh― well, then."
Shion really was grateful. Now that he knew how
difficult it was to get past the wall, he felt grateful from
the bottom of his heart that Nezumi had taken the same
risk again just to deliver the message to his mother. So
this is what it means to gain knowledge.
"Your mom's got some guts," Nezumi remarked. "She
managed to give me a reply without getting caught."
Nezumi tossed him a rolled-up strip of paper that was
about half the size of his finger. There was a message
hastily scribbled onto it that he could barely read.

"What does this mean?" He and Nezumi looked at each

other in bewilderment.
"It's a letter that your Mama wrote to her beloved
son," said Nezumi. "Don't you have any clue what it might
be about?"
 "Not really," replied Shion doubtfully. "'K' probably
stands for my mother's first name, but this... 'not sure'...?"
"It's probably an address. Not that building numbers
would do any good here.... Latch Building, huh. I guess I'll
look into it."
"So that must mean my mother knows someone who
lives in the West Block." It was a surprise to him. He had
never heard Karan utter a single word about anyone who
lived here. Nezumi snapped his fingers smartly.
"Oh― I know."
"Huh?"
"Maybe he's your dad."
"Fat chance," retorted Shion. "Look who's had one too
many stories to read. Aren't you embarrassed at all?"
Nezumi tsked in disappointment.
"You're getting better at your comebacks. ―But, well, I
guess you're right. It's your typical script for a cheap
melodrama. A father and son reunite in tears after sixteen
years of estrangement." Nezumi's voice turned deep and
burly.
"I've missed you, son."
"Me too, Father." Shion bounded into Nezumi's
widespread arms. They circled around his back. It was
warm. For an instant, the frigid touch of Yamase's dead
body flashed back in his mind. But it was this warmth
here, not that coldness, that he wanted to remember; and
Shion vowed never to forget the heat of the body that was
in his arms. He wished all beings, himself included, could
continue to be living beings. He didn't want his life
unfairly wrenched away from him. He could feel it― the
pleasure of living, breathing, and possessing a body of
warm flesh― soak into the depths of his core. Nezumi
gently detached himself.
"You're getting better at picking up your cues," he said
approvingly.
"I know. I've come pretty far in a short time, haven't I?"
"Quite an excellent pupil. Shall we go, then?"
"Where?"
"Outside."

Darkness had fallen outside. Here in the West Block,

night and complete darkness seemed synonymous. A chill
wind nipped at Shion's skin.
"Look," Nezumi pointed. No. 6 was carved out in the
darkness, bathed in light as it glowed in the distance.
"It's always shining like that, morning, day, and night.
Pretty, isn't it."
"Yeah."
"But where you're going to be living from now on is
here." The land was sunken in darkness, with a sparse
scattering of lights here and there. They burned forlornly,
and made the surrounding dark look even more inky black.
The clouds above broke, and the moon peeked out. It was
a crescent moon. A thin sliver, almost like a clipped nail,
floated in the empty sky.
Nezumi crouched down to pick something up.
"Look at this." It was a dead wasp.
"This looks like just a regular paper wasp."
"You were right, it looks like the season for wasp
activity is over."
"By springtime..." Shion trailed off.
It was possible that the city would hold out somehow
until spring. It gave him a few months' grace period until
the fatal judgment would fall.
"If you're serious about fighting the parasite wasps, I
won't get in your way," Nezumi said. "But if that means
helping No. 6, I'm backing out."
"Do you have a grudge against No. 6?"
There was no answer. The wind blew stronger. The
canopies above creaked and rustled as they swayed in the
darkness.
"Shion."
"Hm?"
"That city where you were born and raised in― that's
the biggest parasite."
"Huh?"
 "It latches onto the host, sucks out all its nutrients,
and devours it whole. That's the kind of city it is. A
Parasite City... do you understand what I'm saying?"
"No."
"You'll find out soon. You said you wanted to know the
truth. But once you know, you'll never be able to go back.
I would prepare myself if I were you."
"I've already come too far to go back anyway, wouldn't
you think?"
"I guess so."
Nezumi's quiet laughter carried on the wind. His voice
was dry and hollow, as if to complement it.
"If you find out the truth, and still want to protect No.
6― then,"
In the darkness, Nezumi's face turned to his. Shion
could feel his gaze. He could almost see the grey of his
eyes just as vividly.
"Then you're my enemy too."
Boy, it's chilly out here. Let's head back in. Nezumi's
tone was light. It was as if nothing had happened. He
turned his back to Shion, and began whistling as he
descended the stairs.
"Nezumi."
The whistling stopped.
"You haven't told me your name yet."
 "Nezumi it is, and Nezumi it shall be. Good enough."
"But it doesn't suit you. And it was a promise. You said
you'd tell me your name if I survived."
There was a soft laugh, which quickly turned into
whistling again. The door closed, and a silence settled
over the darkness. Shion stood alone, rooted to the spot.
The wind caressed his white hair. He could hear a dog
barking somewhere in the distance.
He gazed up at the city that bejewelled itself in light.
The Parasite City. The city whose name Nezumi had spat
with disgust was shimmering and beautiful.
Shion averted his eyes from the light, and took a deep
breath.
Then he descended slowly down the steps to the room
below.

-- END OF CHAPTER 5 --

CHAPTER 1
Of Life and Death

Thou livest; report me and my cause aright

To the unsatisfied.
- Hamlet, Act V Scene II [1]

Shion closed the book. He could hear the sound of

rain.
 This underground room was cut off from most outside
sounds. But for some reason, the sounds of the wind and
the rain always seemed to seep through the walls.
A mouse scurried up Shion's leg and perched on his
knee. It twitched its whiskers and rubbed its front paws
together as if in request.
"You want me to read this book to you?"
Cheep.
"You really like tragedies, don't you. Why don't you
pick something more fun?"
The mouse looked up at him and blinked its
grape-coloured eyes. Shion adjusted himself in his chair
and crossed his legs, with the mouse still on his knee.
The chair had once been quite a fine piece of
furniture. It was evident from its sturdy build and the
delicate patterns carved into the chair-back. But now, it
was worn and old; the colour was peeling in various
places, and the cushion had faded so much it was
impossible to tell what colour it had been before. Still, it
was one of the few pieces of furniture that this room had.
A week ago, Shion had dug it out from among the books
that covered two-thirds of the room's floor space.

"There might be an even bigger treasure hidden in

these books, if you sorted them out." Shion had meant to
sound serious, but Nezumi scoffed.
 "Why don't you worry about building up some strength
before thinking about stupid stuff like that? You're a little
boy who's probably never had to do any physical labour
since the day you were born. You're pale and skinny
enough as it is."
"I was in charge of cleaning duties at the park. I had to
do physical labour all the time."
Nezumi's shoulders hunched. His voice was tinged with
contempt.
"Cleaning duties? Does cleaning count as physical
labour in No. 6? All you had to do was operate the robots
that did the maintenance and cleaning. What physical
labour is, little boy―"
Nezumi grabbed Shion's arm and dug his fingers in so
hard that he winced. Nezumi's fingers, slender at first
glance, had a surprisingly strong grip.
"―is using these arms, your legs, and putting your back
into it. Using your own body. Remember that."
Nezumi's biting and sarcastic way of speaking didn't
bother Shion much anymore after he had gotten used to
it. In its harshness and cynicism, there was often a truth
that he couldn't help but agree with, and oftentimes he
would come away more persuaded than offended. It was
true, the work that Shion did in the Holy City of No. 6 was
just to tap the keys of the control panel. He had never
experienced the kind of labour that made his own body
creak under its burden. He had no experience of what it
was like to be damp with sweat, to have the skin of his
hands blister and tear, to have his muscles ache from
exhaustion; to be famished unbearably, and to fall into a
comfortable slumber after a day's work.
He had never experienced it once.
"That's why I'm going to do this," Shion said
determinedly, pointing at the mountains of books that
piled high all over the room. "I'm going to organize them,
sort them out, and shelve them in order. If that's not
physical labour, I don't know what is."
"It'll take you a hundred years."
"I'll do it in a week."
Nezumi shrugged his shoulders again. "As you wish," he
sighed.
"Do what you want. But stick with the books and
bookshelves. Don't touch anything else."
"You don't have much other than books and
bookshelves in here."
"Like you said, you might find some amazing treasure.
To tell you the truth, even I don't know what's buried
under these books."
The mice were chattering to each other from the
nooks and tiny spaces between the books. Shion picked up
a small, light-green volume.
"Nezumi."
"Hm?"
 "How long have you been living here?"
These bare concrete walls, thousands of books, this
underground room― it didn't seem well-suited to be a
human dwelling.
"You didn't grow up here, did you? Where were you―"
He closed his mouth. He noticed that Nezumi's grey
eyes were harbouring a steely glint.
"I'm― I'm sorry."
Nezumi snatched the book out of Shion's hand and
threw it aside.
"If you plan on staying here―" he wrapped his
shoulders in the superfibre cloth, and gave an impatient
sigh. "Then do something about that interrogation habit of
yours. I don't know how much more I can take of you
nosing around every little part of my life."
"I'm not nosing around. I just wanted to know."
"Sniffing around and questioning people for every
piece of information you want is called nosing around.
Remember that too."
Shion felt a jab of irritation at the way Nezumi's words
seemed to push him away. Indignation welled up inside
him. He wasn't nosing around. He grabbed Nezumi's arm as
he made to leave the room.
"I barely know anything yet. That's why I wanted to
know."
"And I'm saying that's called―"
 "If it was something I could get by without knowing,"
Shion interrupted, "I wouldn't want to know about it. But I
do want to know. To me, this is something I need to know.
I want to know, and that's why―ach―" He bit his tongue.
He clamped a hand over his mouth and squatted on the
floor in pain. Tears stung at his eyes and the pain smarted
in his mouth. Nezumi burst out laughing.
"Geez, does clumsiness come naturally to you too? I
never get tired of looking at you. ―You alright?"
"Somewhat. Biting your tongue is really painful." When
he had been in No. 6 ― that was from when he was born,
to the age of sixteen― Shion had never once tripped over
his words enough to bite his tongue. And it was the first
time, too, that he had grabbed someone's arm without
thinking, out of desire to say what his heart raced to tell,
his words unable to keep up with his thoughts.
"So?"
Nezumi knelt down, and peered into Shion's face. The
light in his eyes, which had the sheen of finely-woven
cloth, had subsided to a gentle glow.
"What do you want to know?"
"You―" Shion answered. "I want to know about you."
Nezumi's mouth fell open. He blinked several times.
"Shion, have you been reading any strange books
lately?"
"Strange?"
 "Like romance novels, the kind that are cliché and
over the top. You know, where a prince comes to rescue a
damsel in distress, or when lovers who are torn apart
overcome trials and tribulations to reunite again."
"I don't think I've read any of those."
"Then where the hell did you come up with that line? 'I
want to know about you'," Nezumi echoed in disbelief.
"I don't have to learn that from anywhere to say it."
"Are you serious about what you just said?"
"Of course. Nezumi―" Shion wiped his lips, and looked
directly into his grey eyes. "I want to know. I want to know
because there are still so many things I don't know. All I
know about you is that you've saved me. I don't know your
real name, or how you grew up, or why you're living here
alone― or what you're thinking of now, or what you're
planning to do ― I have no idea. I don't know a single thing
about you."
He was grabbed by the wrist. Nezumi's fingers were
always cold, and rigid.
"Then I'll tell you something. Put your hand here."
Shion did as he was told, and placed his hand on Nezumi's
chest.
"What do you feel?"
"Feel―? Well, it feels like a man's chest, for one. It's
hard, and flat."
 "I know, I know. Too bad for you, I don't have big
breasts. What else?"
"Well..."
What did he feel on his palm through the rough fabric
of Nezumi's shirt? It was his heartbeat, his warmth, and
the firmness of his flesh. Shion hesitated to put it into
words. He didn't know why. He withdrew his hand, and
curled his fingers over his palm. Nezumi chuckled quietly.
"My heart was beating, and it was warm. Right?"
"Of course. You're alive. It's normal for your heart to
be beating and for you to feel warm."
"It is. I'm alive, and I'm right here in front of you.
That's all you need to know. What more do you want?"
Nezumi stood up, and looked down at Shion. His gaze,
like his fingers, was cold.
"What you want is information," he said icily. "My birth
date, my development history, my height, weight, index of
my intelligence, DNA data. You just want information that
you can convert into numbers. That's the only way you
ever try to understand other humans. That's why you can't
understand the living people that are standing right in
front of you."
Shion stood up as well. He clenched his fist harder.
"You're big on sarcasm, and love to make fun of
people. You don't like fish, and you're a restless sleeper."
There was a moment of silence.
 "―Huh?"
Shion continued.
"You have an enormous amount of knowledge, and a
wide range of it too― but none of it is systematic.
Sometimes you're fickle and over-sensitive, but other
times you're lazy and careless about the details. You adore
piping-hot soup, and you get really grumpy when it doesn't
have the right amount of salt. And last night, you kicked
me three times in your sleep."
"Hey Shion, wait a minute―"
"Since coming here, this is what I've learned about
you. They're not numbers. I would never substitute you for
numbers. That's not what I want to do."
Nezumi's gaze slid away from him.
"I'm just a stranger to you," he said. "You shouldn't be
interested in strangers. Four years ago, you saved my life,
and I owe you a big debt for that. So that's why, this time,
I helped you out. So if you want, you can stay here for as
long as you wish and do what you want to do. But never
think of wanting to know more about another stranger."
"Why not?"
"Because it gets in the way."
"Gets in the way? Knowing things gets in my way?"
"Yes, for people like you. You're good at cramming
knowledge, but you give in easily to your emotions. You're
quick to trust in people, and try to attach yourself to
them. I told you before, didn't I? Cut yourself off, and
throw away everything you don't need."
"Yeah, but...."
"But what you're doing right now is just the opposite.
You're starting to take interest in me and want to know
more. You're trying to add even more to your burden.
You're hopelessly stupid, just hopeless."
Shion couldn't understand what Nezumi was saying. It
was more confounding and difficult to grasp than any
scholarly book he had read.
"Nezumi, I don't understand what you're talking
about." He voiced his feelings truthfully. Nezumi shrugged
slightly.
"The more you know, the more emotionally attached
you'll get. Then we can't be strangers anymore. And that'll
be trouble for you."
"For me? Why?"
"When we become enemies, you won't be able to kill
me." There was a hint of a laugh in his voice. Shion dug his
feet firmly into the worn carpet.
"While you're busy being caught up in your emotions, I
can go ahead and stab a knife into your heart. You know, a
knife is a really ancient weapon, but it can come in handy
sometimes."
"Why do you and I have to become enemies? That's just
absurd. That's what's stupid, if anything."
 "Really? I think it's pretty plausible."
"Nezumi!" Shion said heatedly.
There was a loud toppling noise as a pile of books fell
over. A mouse hopped onto Nezumi's shoulder.
"Well, if you're really gonna organize these books, you
better get cracking. One week will be over in no time. I'm
going to work." Nezumi turned nimbly on his heel and
walked out the door. Shion felt all the tension leave his
body. He was cold and clammy. Conversations with Nezumi
sometimes made him so wrought with nerves that he
broke out in a cold sweat. Shion licked his dry lips.
"I don't even know what kind of job it is that you do,"
he muttered to himself. "I only wanted to know. Who's the
stupid one here?" He let his words hang for a moment,
then set out to organize the stacks of books.
"Shion." The door opened, and Nezumi's voice called
him. A pair of work gloves were tossed his way.
"You'll crack a nail if you use your bare hands." The
door closed before Shion could say thanks, and silence
settled over the room again. This casual act of kindness,
or those cold, dispassionate words from a few minutes
ago― which one was he to believe? Shion couldn't grasp
him. That was why he wished could reach out and take
firm hold. Shion pulled the gloves over his hands, and
lifted some books off the floor.
Of course. It's good to wear gloves when doing this
kind of work. That's another thing I didn't even know.
 You just want information that you can convert into
numbers. That's the only way you ever try to understand
other humans. The words that had been slapped in his
face minutes before still remained stubbornly in his ears.
This method of analyzing people through their data was
something Shion had learned all his life in No. 6, ever
since he had been deemed top-ranking in the Childrens'
Examinations and was given a top-class learning
environment.
The human body is made up of 274 different types of
cells, numbering 60 billion in total. He remembered
perfectly the names, shapes, and functions of each. He
knew the locations and functions of each organ, and had
also learned about the transmission paths of signals
between the amygdala, perirhinal cortex and the
hippocampus.
But it was no use to him. No matter how much he put
his knowledge to work, he was unable to understand the
person with whom he'd been living for almost a month.
Was Nezumi honestly thinking that they were going to
become enemies some day? That they would end up killing
each other― was that possible? Nezumi's words and actions
were always shrouded in mystery, and confused Shion
greatly.
He couldn't grasp him. That was why he wished could
reach out and take firm hold. He wanted to know the part
of Nezumi that couldn't be substituted for numbers or
symbols. Shion shook his head. The mice scampered busily
about his feet. I have to stop. Brooding over it isn't gonna
help. Right now, I have to wage war with these books.
He was soon damp with perspiration. His back ached,
and his arms felt heavy. But what interrupted Shion in his
work was not in his bodily ache or exhaustion, but in the
pages of the books he went through. He would casually
flip to a story, and find himself sinking to the floor to read
the rest. Wholly engrossed, he would soon lose track of
the hour. And each time, a little mouse hopped up onto
the page in stern reprimand.
"Give me one more minute. I'll put it away as soon as
I'm finished reading this part."
"Cheep cheep!"
"Alright, alright. I'm getting on it, okay? Are you
satisfied now?"
And on the third day, he found it, under an old copy of
a science journal. A small, silver box. His emergency kit.
On that stormy night four years ago, Nezumi had
appeared, sopping wet, a sudden intruder in Shion's home.
His shoulder stained with blood, the dripping boy before
him looked as if he was about to collapse. Shion had
extended his hand without thinking. His protective instinct
had stirred so strongly in him that he had even forgotten
to feel fear toward the intruder. Even after finding out
that he was a VC― considered a violent and dangerous
criminal in No. 6― that feeling did not change. Shion took
Nezumi under his wing, and provided treatment for his
wound and a momentary respite. He didn't hesitate to. He
couldn't help but do what he did. As a result, Shion lost
most of what he had, as well as a large part of his secure
and privileged life.
That night, Shion had treated the wound, painfully
evident of the bullet that had caused it, with the tools
and medication in this emergency kit. The next morning,
there were four things missing in Shion's presence― the
red checkered shirt, the towel, the emergency kit, and
Nezumi himself. Of them, two were back in his hands. Or,
rather, emergency kit aside, perhaps it wasn't right to say
that Nezumi had "come back" into his hands. Shion was the
one who had fallen into a trap, and was about to be
hauled to the Correctional Facility by the Security
Bureau― Nezumi was the one who had saved him, and
brought him outside No. 6.
He wasn't the one that came back. I was the one that
burst in and took refuge here. That was the reality of it.
He had fallen from the Utopian City― even called Holy by
some―into this underground room, where no sunlight
shone. He would probably never be able to return to No. 6
legitimately again. He had left his mother there. Was
Karan still thinking of him, even after he had been cast as
an escaped criminal? Shion knew it was fruitless to think
about it, but his heart ached nonetheless.
He couldn't throw it all away like Nezumi. He couldn't
cut himself off. He couldn't live without. He had to cling
to something, else he would crumble and fall. He had to
have someone in his heart always, else he would go
insane.
 Shion opened the lid of the box. It looked like the
automatic sterilizer was still functioning. A scalpel and a
roll of gauze glowed dimly under the faint reddish light of
the sterile lamp. A nostalgic feeling welled up in his chest
as if he was meeting an old friend.
"Cheep-cheep! Chit-chit-chit!"
"What? I know, I know. I'm getting there. Geez, you're
strict." Shion laughed. As if in response, the mouse raised
its front paws and chittered.
***

By the time a week rolled around, Shion had managed

to organize almost all of the books that had been
dominating most of the floor. Of course, it was impossible
to find shelf space for all of them, and many piles of books
still remained on the floor ― but it had cleared up a
considerable amount of living space.
"So what do you think?" Shion puffed out his chest
proudly. Nezumi was draped lazily over the chair. He
yawned.
"The emergency kit, a couple blankets, a mug, and an
old heater. Is that all you managed to find?"
"That's a lot," Shion replied indignantly.
"Too bad you couldn't find an entry permit into No. 6."
Shion moved in front of Nezumi, and looked him
directly in the eye. If he was going to speak in earnest, he
mustn't avert the other's gaze. It was one of the things he
had learned in his one month of living with Nezumi. Shion
bent over, and clasped each hand around the armrests of
the chair.
"What?"
Shion was now blocking Nezumi from the front.
Nezumi shifted uneasily in his seat.
"Nezumi, my mother is still in No. 6. She's my only
blood relative. I don't care how much you laugh at me for
it, but I'll never be able to cut her off. But― but let me
say this. I have no attachments to life in that city
anymore. Even if someone told me I could go back in time,
I wouldn't want to go back to when I had the privilege to
live in No. 6 as its legitimate citizen. I'm serious― I
wouldn't want to return one bit."
The grey eyes on the other end of Shion's gaze didn't
blink once.
"You said that my life in No. 6 was fake. Now I've
experienced it for myself. And I never, ever want to return
to a life that's fake, and only peaceful and privileged in
appearance."
"So you're prepared to live life outside of the Holy
City, is that what you're telling me?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know what kind of place this is?"
 He hesitated to answer. Nezumi's lips twisted into a
cold smile.
"You don't know anything," he said softly. "You don't
know what it's like to starve, to shiver in the cold, to
groan from a wound that's festered because it's been left
untreated too long; you don't know the suffering that
follows when that wound becomes infested with maggots,
and you start rotting alive; you don't know how it feels to
watch someone die in front of you, while there's nothing
you can do to help them. You don't know a single thing.
You're just rattling off pretty words. You've experienced it
for yourself, you say? You've only peeled the surface of
that city and sniffed at it, and already you're acting like
you know everything about it. It might be a city of lies,
but in No. 6 you have a warm bed, plenty of food and
clean water. You have fully-equipped medical facilities,
recreational facilities, educational institutions. Everything
that residents here would never be able to have, no
matter how hard they wished. And you say you have no
attachments to those? That's arrogant of you. So arrogant
it makes my skin crawl. Either that, or you're a liar."
Shion drew a breath. He tightened his grip on the
armrests.
"It might be arrogant― but I'm not lying. Regardless of
what kind of place is, I still want to continue living here.
It's not because I got chased out of No. 6 as a criminal.
Even if I wasn't― no matter how horrible this environment
turns out to be, I want to stay here."
 "What's your reason?" Nezumi shot back. "If you're not
lying, and if you're not trying to impress me with a model
answer, what lead you to make that decision?"
"I'm drawn to you."
"Huh?"
"You know things that I don't know. You've taught me
things that no one has ever taught me before. I can't say it
well, but―" he hesitated. "I'm drawn to you. A lot. That's
why I want to stay here. I want to see what you see, eat
what you eat, and breathe the same air as you. I want to
hold in these hands what I would never have been able to
get in No. 6."
Nezumi slowly blinked twice. Then, he placed a palm
on his forehead and shook his head slowly in exasperation.
"Shion, I've been noticing this for some time now,
but―"
"Yeah?"
"Your language ability is worse than a chimpanzee."
"I've heard before that the genome of a human and
chimpanzee are only different by 1.23%," said Shion,
unfazed. "I don't think you should mock chimpanzees."
"I'm mocking you. Idiot. Don't you have any idea what
proper expressions to use?"
"Was there something weird about what I said?"
 "Don't use words like 'drawn to' so easily. It's a very
weighty, important word. You're only supposed to use it for
a special, irreplaceable person in your life."
"Then how am I supposed to say it? Do I say I love you?"
Nezumi heaved a long, exaggerated sigh. "Never
mind," he muttered. "It messes me up when I talk to you.
Here," he pushed a thick book into Shion's hands, and
stood up. "Hamlet. Read it."
"I already have."
"Then read it again. Give that crippled language ability
of yours some good, hard training. Learn some words."
"Was I off-the-mark that badly?"
Nezumi's words quickened.
"You're just fascinated by new and unusual things.
You're like a scholar who's discovered a new planet, or a
new kind of bacteria. You're just itching with curiosity
because you've met someone who's different from all the
people that used to surround you. That's it. You're not
drawn to me, and you're not in love with me. You're just
excited about the exotic animal you've discovered. Can't
you even tell the difference?"
They were harsh words. They became sharp thorns
that stabbed at Shion's eardrums.
"I don't trust you," Nezumi said.
Shion raised his face, and his gaze collided with
Nezumi's. He had been biting his lip without thinking.
 "I don't trust anything you say. You're someone who's
been living in artificial abundance since you were born.
And you're arrogant enough to be able to say you can
throw away that fortune easily. ―Shion," he said suddenly.
"When you used to do that cleaning job at the park, you
had to do that ritual every morning, didn't you?"
The ritual was always the first task in Shion's work day.
He had to lay a palm on the image of the City Hall ― or
Moondrop, informally ― that was displayed on monitor of
the maintenance system, and pledge his allegiance.
"I hereon and ever pledge my unwavering allegiance to
the City of No. 6."
"Our gratitude for your loyalty. Engage in your day's
labour with sincerity and pride as a good citizen of the
City."
That was it. Every morning, he had repeated the same
task. It had been a sore discomfort for him. His youthful
pride stung for having to repeat these banal and grandiose
words, and for this ritual itself, which seemed foolish.
Nezumi gave a short laugh.
"You hated it, didn't you."
"Yeah."
"Felt suffocated, didn't you, being forced to declare
your loyalty."
"Yeah... now that you mention it."
 "But you put up with it," Nezumi said. "Instead of
retaliating, you recited this pledge every morning, not
meaning a single word of it, and pretended it didn't bother
you. Let me tell you something, Shion: words aren't things
that you can toss around casually. You can't let yourself be
forced to say something, and just put up with it. But you
don't know that. So that's why I'm not going to trust you."
Nezumi's hand suddenly extended toward him. His
palm touched Shion's cheek.
"Did that hurt?" he asked gently.
"Quite a bit."
"―I don't have any grudge against you. And I don't hate
you, either."
"I know..." Shion answered quietly. "That much I can
tell."
"Shion."
"Hm?"
"Feel like going outside?"
His fingers caressed Shion's hair.
"You're fully recovered, now, aren't you? Feel like
seeing for yourself the place you've decided to continue
living in?"
Nezumi's hand slowly drew away. Several strands of
white hair clung to his long fingers. Shion's hair still had
some lustre despite being drained of its colour, and to
certain eyes he figured it might look pretty. But he felt its
beauty to be cruel. In a single night, the colour had faded
from his hair, and he had been scarred with a red band
that slithered like a serpent over his entire body. He had
been seen by children, who had shrieked at the sight of
him. He couldn't forget the look in their eyes. They were
filled with dismay and horror like the eyes of one who
beheld a deformed monster. But he had to go outside. He
wanted to see the world he was going to live in with his
own eyes, hear the sounds with his own ears, smell with
his nose, and feel it on his own skin. Then, maybe, he
would speak to Nezumi about it again.
No matter what kind of place this is, I want to keep
living here. Rather than being surrounded by falsities,
and being forced to swallow banal words, I want to live
here― even if it means I have to struggle―
"We can dye your hair, if it'll make you feel better at
all," Nezumi said. "Black, brown, green― whatever colour
you wish. What do you wanna do?"
"No, it's fine."
"You're going to keep it?"
"Yeah, I'll keep my hair like this. White hair isn't so
bad. I figure it's better than being completely bald."
Nezumi lowered his face. His shoulders were
trembling.
"You're really funny, you know that?" he said, his voice
shaking from holding back a laugh. "Seriously. I mean,
really."
 "Am I?" said Shion dubiously. "No one's ever really told
me I'm funny..."
"You're a natural comedian. You should toss the theory
books and study comedy instead."
"I'll think about it."
"You should. Right― tomorrow, then, I'll show you
around."
"Alright," Shion agreed.
"And there's one place you definitely need to go to."
"Latch Building," Shion answered for him.

It was a memo from Karan, and it was a cryptic one―

Shion didn't know where it pointed to, or who was going to
be there.
"Did you find out where Latch Building is?"
"Nope," Nezumi replied. "We don't have any fancy
numberings for our buildings here. But once upon a time
this place used to be a decent town, and I was able to get
a map from then. And there's a region that's marked
LK-3000."
"You looked all of this up..." Shion murmured in awe.
"Just to kill some time."
 "I didn't think you had time to kill. You always seem so
busy―"
"Oh, and write a letter," Nezumi interrupted
nonchalantly.
"Huh?"
"To your Mama. But keep it within 15 words. Just a
simple note. The mouse here says he misses your mother's
homemade bread."
"You'll deliver the letter for me?"
"More like a memo," he said brusquely. "Under 15
words. I can't guarantee it'll get there safely."
"Nezumi."
"What?"
"Thank you."
Nezumi shrank away from Shion and fixed him with an
appalled stare.
"Please, can you not look at me like that? It gives me
the willies. What'll happen tomorrow will happen
tomorrow. I'm gonna take a shower. Oh, and before you
write a letter to your mama, read the poor little guy a
story. He's been waiting all this time."
Nezumi disappeared into the bathroom. Shion curled
up in a chair, and opened the book he had been passed
earlier. There was a faint whiff of the smell of paper. He
was drawn in instantly, and soon lost himself in its pages.
 If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
Absent thee from felicity awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain
To tell my story.[1]
Hamlet drew his last breath in the arms of his friend.
Shion slowly closed the book. There was the sound of rain.
He wondered why it always seemed to seep through the
walls into this underground room. It seeped through and
reverberated, like the soft sound of music.
And in this harsh world, draw thy breath in pain―
maybe that's what living on in this world meant― to suffer
in pain. And Nezumi knew this. It had been ingrained into
his body. A mouse chirruped at his foot.
"Oh, sorry about that. Which one do you want me to
read?"
The mouse climbed up onto his knee, and rubbed its
front paws together.
"You want me to read this book to you?"
Cheep.
"You really like tragedies, don't you. Why don't you
pick something more fun?"
He crossed his legs, with the mouse still perched on
his knee.
"Read him the tragedy," Nezumi's voice spoke from
behind him. He hadn't even noticed Nezumi coming out of
the bathroom. He hadn't heard a sound or felt any
presence.
"You have a good voice. This little guy loves to be read
to. And he loves to listen to you read tragedies."
"Really?"
The mouse blinked its grape-coloured eyes at him.
Shion guessed it was his way of saying yes.
"Okay, okay. Then from the top of Act Five―"
"Shh―" Nezumi's damp hand pressed over Shion's
mouth. "I hear something."
"Huh?"
Before Shion could ask what it was, it reached his own
ears. The sound of footsteps clambering down the steps.
The heavy door was being banged. Someone was knocking
on the centre of the door, and its sound was frantic,
though not altogether strong.
A child.
A child was knocking desperately on the door. Shion
stood up, and made for the entrance.
"Not so fast." Nezumi stopped him. Under his wet
bangs, his grey eyes beheld the door warily.
"Don't open the door yet."
"Why not?"
"It's dangerous. Don't open the door without any
defense."
 "It's a child knocking. And it's urgent. Something must
have happened."
"How can you be so sure? An armed soldier can knock
on the bottom half of the door, no problem."
Shion's gaze travelled from Nezumi's face to the door.
Help me.
He thought he heard a weak voice cry out in plea. He
swallowed. He unlatched the door, and gripped the
handle.
"Shion!"
He opened the door. A cold draft blew into the room.
It was getting dark outside, and a chill wind was blowing.
A girl was standing in the gathering dark. Her eyes
were filled with tears as she looked up at Shion. He had
seen her before. She lived in the barracks in the hollow
under the slope. She was the girl he had not been able to
forget― the girl who had shrieked at Shion's whitened hair
and red scar that snaked up his neck. For the first time, in
this gaze, he had been beheld like a deformity. But now,
her large eyes were brimming with tears, and contained
no hint of terror. Instead, they were bright with frantic
urgency.
"Help me― please― he's dying."
Shion swiftly took the girl by her hand, and began to
clamber up the stairs. He hastily yelled over his shoulder.
"Nezumi, bring the emergency kit, and some blankets!"
 Then he burst outside, into the wood of bare branches
and fallen leaves.

-- END OF CHAPTER 1 --
***

CHAPTER 2
The Place of the Gods

Then the goddess Hannahanna decided to use her

last resort. She gathered not several, but
hundreds, thousands of bees, and said, "You are
small and nimble, and fly as swift as the light, so
you shall surely be able to find the god Telepinu.
Now, go." [1]
- The Disappearance of Telipinu, Hittite Myth

There was a person collapsed at the foot of a spindly

tree whose bark was whiter than the rest. He was a little
boy, even smaller than the girl in size. He was writhing in
pain. Shion took him in his arms and sat him up. Even in
the settling dusk, he could tell that the boy was deathly
pale. He was clawing at his throat, and his mouth was
open, but his lips were bloodless.

Suffocation. He was choking from something stuck in

his throat. There was no time to waste. Supporting the
boy's belly with one arm, Shion thumped his back with the
palm of his other hand.
 "Spit it out. Come on," he urged. Twice, then a third
time, he kept hitting the boy's bony back. Four times, five
times...
The boy wretched, and vomit spilled out of his mouth.
There was a dark, round object mixed in with it. The boy
twitched slightly.
"Water! Bring water!" Shion commanded Nezumi again.
He lay the boy down, and brought his own cheek to the
boy's mouth. He could feel definite breathing. He's alright,
he's breathing. He didn't need to clear the boy's airway, or
give him artificial resuscitation. But his consciousness―
"Call his name."
The girl responded quickly to Shion's words. She bent
over the boy, bringing her face close to his, and called his
name.
"Rico, can you hear me? Rico."
"Rico, can you breathe?" Shion called after her.
The boy's chest swelled largely. His eyelids fluttered
and opened. A tear spilled over and rolled down his cheek.
"―Sis―"
"Rico!" Shion gently restrained the girl as she tried to
throw her arms around the boy. He slowly raised Rico's
upper body off the ground, and brought a cup of water to
his mouth.
"Can you drink this?"
"Yeah."
 "Good boy. Drink it slowly. So your name is Rico, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Rico, can you hear your sister's voice and my voice
clearly? Can you see us just fine?"
"Yeah― and the water tastes good."
"You're a good boy," Shion enthused. "You've done a
really great job. Does your stomach feel alright? Does your
chest hurt at all?"
"My throat..."
"Hm?"
"My throat hurts..."
Rico had probably torn at his throat in pain, for it was
covered in scratches which were beginning to bleed. Shion
retrieved some gauze and rubbing alcohol from the
emergency kit. They were four years old, but now, this
was all they had.
"This is going to sting. Don't cry."
"I won't."
He swabbed the wounds, pressed a fresh piece of
gauze to them, and wrapped Rico's neck with a bandage.
Shion could only give him the most basic of emergency
procedures. This was the best he could do. If he had said
anything along the lines of 'to the hospital', Nezumi would
have laughed in his face. Shion knew very well that in this
area, the West Block of No. 6, there was no such thing as a
decent medical facility. From what Rico had vomited out,
Shion picked out what appeared to have been blocking his
airway.
"A nut?" It was small and round. "Why would this be―"
Rico hung his head. Nezumi folded his arms as he
stood, and gave a short sigh.
"He was hungry."
"Huh?"
"He was probably so hungry he couldn't bear it
anymore. That nut― if you grind it into flour, it's― well,
it's edible. He was probably in the middle of gathering
them when he got hungry. He got so hungry he decided to
put one in his mouth, which was all good until he
swallowed it by mistake― is my guess of what probably
happened."
"Rico's always hungry," the girl said. "Even if Mum gives
him part of her bread, he's still hungry."
"It's such a tiny piece of bread," Rico protested. "One
bite, and it's all gone." He dissolved into a fit of coughs.
His voice was raspy, and his face was still pale. Shion
wrapped his body in a blanket.
"Keep warm. If your neck still hurts, I'll treat it for
you. Come again anytime."
"Take them home."
Shion raised his face at Nezumi's words.
"Me?"
 "Yeah, you. You helped them, so finish your job and
see them through. They live in the house down this slope,
it's not too far. Their mother is probably getting worried
right about now."
That meant he would have to show himself to an
adult. Shion stood up. He didn't know why, but he had
started to shake.
"But I―"
"You'll have to go out there one day anyway. If you're
getting scared now, you'll never be able to walk the
streets. ―Well, not that it's any of my business. But if we
stay out here in the rain any longer, someone's going to
catch pneumonia."
He had forgotten that it was raining. Shion finally
noticed its coldness. It seeped right into his bones, and
reminded him that winter was approaching.
"Well, I'm off. The prince can do as he pleases."
Nezumi turned his back to them and descended down the
steps below. Rico sneezed. The girl extended her small
hand and grasped Shion's fingers.
"Thank you."
"Huh?"
"Thanks for saving my little brother."
"Oh― no, I― It's not―" Shion stammered. "You don't
have to thank me. What's your name?"
"Karan."
 "Karan? That's the same name as my mother."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
The girl smiled. Shion could feel the warmth of the
girl's hand as she clasped his fingertips. He scooped Rico
up, blankets and all.
"I'll take you two home. Kalan, lead the way."

There was steam rising out of the pot on the kerosene

heater. Inside it was soup. As he stirred the broth of
vegetables and meat, Nezumi gave a sigh. He flinched
when he realized he had sighed without thinking. A few
droplets of soup splashed out of the pot, and hissed as
they hit the RDF heater.
He hated sighing. Sighing on purpose was a different
matter― but this kind of sighing, the kind that escaped his
lips without his knowing, irritated him.
"Never sigh in earnest. Never cry. You'll be taken
advantage of by demons." He had been told that by an old
woman, so far in her years that age seemed not to matter.
"Sighing creates an opening, a vulnerability. If you want to
stay live, keep your mouth shut. Never let anyone see your
weak spot. Let your heart warm to no one. Never trust
anyone but yourself."
They were her dying words. She had been shot through
the chest and was frothing bloodily at the mouth, but her
words had rung clearly in his ears. Nezumi didn't think of
ever forgetting them. Even if he did, her voice would not
let him. It clung tenaciously to his mind, and refused to
let go.
But he had turned his back on it. He had let an
unheeded sigh escape his lips without even realizing. All
thanks to him. He tsked his tongue in frustration.
Maybe it was a mistake to bring Shion here. He
seriously thought so. Shion had opened the door without
hesitation. He had thrown it open wide, without even
checking what was on the other side, or concealing
himself in shadow. If they had been unlucky, he would
have lost his life. Even if the visitor had not been an
armed soldier, it may as well have been an armed robber
using a child as bait. Here in the West Block, it would not
be an uncommon thing. But that was something Shion
didn't know. He didn't know how to be suspicious or
cautious, or to be afraid. It was the ignorance and
recklessness of one who had grown up in safety and
security.
He honestly felt that he had taken a dangerous and
troublesome burden under his wing. No one had forced
him to. He had born the burden of his own will, because
he wanted to return the favour he owed. There was no
way he could have let him die ― Shion, who had saved his
life, expecting nothing in return.
There was no way of returning a favour to the dead,
and Nezumi didn't want to carry a debt that he would
never be able to repay. That was why he rescued and
brought Shion here. But now he thought it may have been
careless for him to do so. Maybe he had brought with him
a bigger risk than he had imagined. An oblivious and
careless, dangerous and troublesome―
He threw a glance at the door.
But if Shion had not opened the door that time, Rico
would not have been saved. It didn't take a lot of time for
a choking young child to lose his life. Swift action and
appropriate treatment ― thanks to that, Nezumi hadn't
had to see a small body with its face permanently
contorted in pain. A life had been saved. It was the same
as the stormy night four years before. That time, it was
him― this time, it was Rico. Shion, both times, had taken
them in recklessly and as a result, saved them.
Shion knew the world only through theorems and
rationales. He was naive and hadn't even learned how to
doubt the trustworthiness of others. He was naturally
oblivious, he was clueless, idiotic, and didn't even know
who Hamlet was. But Shion was also definitely above him
in some ways. Not in knowledge or skill, but ― but what?
"I'm drawn to you."
Was it the power to attempt at this embarrassing
confession, and to believe that his sincere feelings would
actually get across? Was it the power to lend a hand to a
total stranger without thinking of the risk it reflected on
himself?
He didn't know. All he knew was that Shion was,
indeed, dangerous and troublesome. He was very― there
were footsteps. Knocking. The door opened soon
afterwards. Shion had come home.
"If you're gonna knock, wait for an answer before
opening the door," Nezumi said curtly.
"Not like you would answer anyway, right?" replied
Shion lightly. "But I noticed you left the door unlocked for
me."
"Huh?"
"The lock. I thought you'd lock the door, but you kept
it open."
He was right. He hadn't locked the door. How reckless
of him.
"Look at me, I've fallen under your horrible influence,"
Nezumi said woefully.
"What's that? ―Hey, look, I got some grapes as a
thank-you gift."
The grapes were small and the whole bunch was
rather pitiful.
"She offered me dried fish too, but I told her no
thanks."
"Oh?" said Nezumi sardonically. "So even you felt bad
about receiving handouts from the poor."
"No. It was because you don't like fish."
"Me? I'll eat fish. I'm not fortunate enough to be picky
about my food."
 "But you told me once you didn't like it much."
"What I said was that I can't eat raw fish. Meaning, this
place is way too unhygienic to even think about eating fish
raw."
Shion blinked, and put a hand to his hair.
"Oh. Oh well. ―But I'm glad, though."
"About what?"
"Kalan's family― oh, Kalan is the girl's name, by the
way―"
"I know."
"Oh, you knew? It's the same name as my mother's."
"Your mother's name isn't any of my concern, but....
So? Did it bring back memories of your Mama and bring you
to tears? Poor thing."
He had meant it as a sarcastic remark, but Shion shook
his head gravely.
"No, that's not it. There was another child there, a
girl, younger than Rico. I think that fish was supposed to
be their supper. One dried fish, for the three of them. It
would have been alright not to accept that, right? But
their mother insisted that I accept the grapes. She was
really grateful. It kind of made me happy."
"You really think so?"
"Huh?"
 "If that kid had died, there would be more to eat for
Kalan and the other girl. Even for Rico― wouldn't you have
thought it would be better for him to die rather than grow
up in constant hunger? Maybe you haven't actually done
them a favour at all."
Shion sat down in front of the heater. His white hair,
leaning more on transparent, was tinged red with the
colours of the flame. His youthful hair had lost its colour,
but still retained its shine. It's beautiful, Nezumi thought.
Shion's head of hair glimmered as it reflected the light
of the things around it, and Nezumi extended his
fingertips to touch it. His hair felt slightly coarse, but ran
through Nezumi's fingers easily. It felt like ordinary hair,
no more, no less.
"You told me to live," Shion said quietly, his face still
turned to the flames. "Nezumi― you said there's meaning
to being alive, and that's why I should live. That's what
you said."
"I just said whoever lives wins."
"That's the same thing, isn't it?"
"How should I know?"
The dead could not speak. All they could do was lay
there as a corpse, and return to the earth from which they
came. They had no way to speak of the hatred, the
cruelties, anguish, loathing or grief they went through.
That was why he had to live. He would live, preserving
everything in his memory, and pass it on.
 No. 6.
It was like an artificial flower that left no seeds
behind. It bloomed on the blood and corpses of a
countless number. I'll pull you right out of the ground one
day. Then you'll have no choice but to hear the voices of
the dead, their hatred, their hardship, their anguish,
their loathing, as it wells up out of the very ground and
soaks the earth. I'll make sure you hear, even if you plug
your ears. Until then, I'll live and remember. To forget is
not a choice. His own self didn't allow him to.
"I got complimented." Shion looked up at Nezumi, and
grinned.
"Complimented? For what?"
"My hair. Kalan's mother said it was nice. She said it
was really unique, and really pretty."
Nezumi shrugged.
"Well, it's unique, for sure. There are tons of kids
around here that have white hair from malnutrition, but
no one with a whole head of snowy hair like you."
"She didn't just say it was unique. She said it was
pretty."
"Are you gushing about how someone complimented
your hair? What are you, a girl?"
"But― well, you know, it gives me a bit of confidence,"
said Shion happily. "For when you show me around town
tomorrow."
 "Who said I was going to show you around?"
"You said so."
He did say so. He had said that he was going to show
Shion around. Nezumi felt like a sullen child. He averted
his gaze from Shion.
"I'm going to go about my own business. You go about
yours."
"Okay. I'll mind my own business and tag along. Oh,
and one more thing―"
"What now?"
"I promised Kalan and Rico I'd read to them when I
have time. I found a lot of picture books in your stash,
so―"
"You're gonna read to them here?"
"If it's sunny, I can take them outside."
Nezumi came close to sighing again, but he caught
himself in time to seal his lips and hold it in.
"Are you trying to make this place a kindergarten?"
"Are there that many children around here?"
"Oh yeah, tons. But this is my place. Don't go around
doing things without my permission, and don't think you're
entitled to everything."
His words turned crude. There was a stinging irritation
within his chest. Being with Shion irritated him. He felt
like his restraint would snap any minute. It wasn't because
Shion was being reckless or imposing, he admitted that
Shion wasn't― it was because he couldn't see through him.
There was no way to predict what Shion was thinking or
what he would do. His actions and words always seemed
to hit Nezumi out of the blue. It was tiring.
Shion was setting plates out on the table. The soup
was finished, and its gentle aroma filled the room.
"I wasn't thinking I was entitled to anything― it's just
that, since Kalan, Rico and I are friends now―"
"Huh?"
"Friends," Shion repeated. "They're the first friends I've
made since coming here. Well, not that I had many friends
back in No. 6," he added as an afterthought. "I think Safu
was the only one."
"She said she wanted to sleep with you. You don't call
that 'friends'."
He remembered the ends of her short hair that draped
prettily on the back of her neck.
Shion, I want to have sex with you.
She had put her all into this confession, and Shion had
not been able to handle it. What a guy you've fallen for,
huh, he remarked in his mind to the girl he barely knew.
For some reason, he was suddenly overcome with the urge
to laugh.
"What?"
 Shion cocked his head to the side. Two mice sitting
atop a pile of books tilted their heads too, as if to imitate
him. Nezumi burst out laughing. He squatted to the
ground, and gave in fully to the wave of mirth that
bubbled up inside him.

Please excuse my, er, butchered attempt at British

dialect... as long as you get the feel for what kind of
people these are...

***
The rain let up before noon but the clouds still
lingered, and the ground remained cold as dusk
approached. Nezumi was walking briskly through the
throng. Shion was doing his best to keep up behind him.
He was out of breath. He was jostled, bumped, and yelled
at; he felt the gaze of countless curious eyes raining down
on his head; the smell of a dozen things reached his nose,
so mingled and melded into each other that he couldn't
tell what they originally were; the muddy ground tripped
up his feet; a sprawl of barracks and tents lined the road,
and from them, thick smoke billowed rudely into the
passerby; in the air, angry bellows, seductive coos, and
merchants' cries clashed clamorously. He felt dizzy.
The older district of Lost Town, which was where he
took up residence after being forced from Chronos, was
also bustling and lively. But compared to what he was
seeing now, it seemed like a tranquil getaway.
 In No. 6, there were designated roads and paths for
both people and vehicles going in each direction, and as a
fundamental rule, stopping suddenly or going the opposite
way was prohibited. Everyone walked in the same
direction, in the same orderly fashion. It was rare to ever
bump into anyone, or be stopped by an acquaintance.
Nothing occurred suddenly or unexpectedly. Everything
was managed to prevent such things from occurring. No. 6
was that kind of place.
A roar of voices suddenly erupted close by. Shion was
shoved violently aside. He lost his footing, and fell
forward onto his knees in the mud. Several men thundered
past him. Something fell from one of their arms, rolled,
and came to a stop in front of Shion. It was an orange.
"Thief!"
A man burst out of one of the shops in the barracks,
holding a gun. He was towering, and very fat.
"Them thieves!" he roared. "Someone catch 'em!"
No one moved. Some smirked as they looked on,
others showed no interest at all, others were shouting
unintelligibly; and all the while, the so-called thieves
were retreating further away into the crowd.
Shion's breath caught in his throat. The gigantic man
was taking aim with his gun. Passers-by who saw him
squatted hastily to the ground to take cover.
Is he nuts? Shion couldn't imagine this man being in his
right mind to open fire into this crowd of people. But the
man's face was set in determination. The long muzzle of
his outdated firearm was pointed straight before him. The
fleeing men bumped into an old woman and pushed her
aside as they continued running. She yammered something
at them, then returned to hobbling down the centre of the
road. She was oblivious to the gun that was pointed her
way. The giant's thick finger wrapped around the trigger.
Shion threw himself at the man just before his hairy
knuckle jerked to fire the gun. With as much strength as
he could muster, he knocked the muzzle of the gun
upwards.
He felt a heavy impact slam his hand, and a shot
blasted in his eardrums. The muzzle of the gun spewed
fire into the darkening sky. Shion staggered. His feet were
swept from under him, and he was slammed to the
ground. His breath died on his lips.
"The hell do you think yer doin'?"
The man towered over him with his gun raised, filling
every inch of his vision. Shion rolled quickly to the side.
The giant moved nimbly for his appearance, and Shion was
met with a firm kick in the ribs.
Shion grunted in pain. He couldn't speak. His stomach
lurched.
"One of their little friends, eh?" the giant snarled.
"Little fucker, takin' a swipe at my merchandise."
The man's boot gave off a greasy, animal smell. And it
was swinging straight toward his stomach again.
 "I'm not one of them!" Shion screamed, barely dodging
the blow. I have to scream, or else he'll really kick me to
death. There was no hint of hesitation in the blows that
showered down upon him.
"I'm not― I'm not one of them," Shion persisted.
"Shut up!" the giant bellowed. "Now those bastard
thieves 're gone. Thanks to yer gettin' in the way."
"If I didn't intervene, someone could have been killed,"
Shion protested. "Opening fire in a place like this ― what
if you'd hit someone?"
To his astonishment, the man started laughing.
Laughter rose from the crowd that lined the streets as
well.
"And so what if I did?" the man roared, emanating his
beastly odour. "What's that got to do with me, eh?" His
expression suddenly darkened, and he roughly grabbed
Shion by his hair. "You and yer strange mop o' yers. I don't
like the looks o' you."
He was pulled to the ground forcefully. His scalp
burned with pain, and it felt like it was being torn off. But
even stronger than the aches on his body were the feelings
of wrath and humiliation that seethed within him.
"Stop it!" Shion yelled.
Stop it. Let go of me. How dare you treat me like
cattle.
 Shion threw himself at the man again, and slammed
his body into him as hard as he could. He felt his elbow dig
firmly into the man's swollen gut. The man let out a
muffled groan and fell on his knees. The crowd had
formed a ring around them. Clapping, whistling and
raucous laughter erupted periodically.
"That's the spirit, young'un. Give 'im what he
deserves!"
"Kill 'im off, ol' man! There's no use wastin' time here!"
No one tried to stop them. Everyone was enjoying the
spectacle from a safe distance. Shion searched the jeering
crowd for a pair of grey eyes. He couldn't find them.
"You little―"
He heard a booming roar that sounded more animal
than human. Then he felt a blow bludgeon his cheek.
Sparks burst before his eyes, and his vision went dark for a
short instant. Something warm was filling his mouth.
Unable to bear it, he spat it out. Saliva mixed with blood
splattered and oozed over the dirt.
"Playin' funny tricks!" The man's face was flushed red,
and he was shaking in rage. His eyes were bloodshot, and
his veins were raised and throbbing over his skin like a
crimson web. The murderous intent that radiated from
him was unmistakable.
"Yer gonna pay for this," he growled. The gun was
aimed right between Shion's eyes. Shion couldn't close his
gaping mouth. He felt like his heart was going to burst out
of his chest. And still, no one stopped him. In this crowd
of people that surrounded them, not a single one stepped
in to stop the man. He felt nauseous. He couldn't tell
whether the muzzle before his eyes was real or just an
illusion.
"Hey," a deep voice punctuated the din. It belonged to
a man who was roasting meat at the front of his store.
Pieces of blackened meat covered the grill, which was
billowing thick, sooty smoke. "Don't be makin' a mess in
front of my store," he said.
"I en't makin' a mess," the man growled.
"You were 'bout to, you were. If you go blowin' brains
and blood all over the place, everyone's gonna lose their
appetites, they is. Take it somewhere else."
The giant scoffed. "No one's gonna have any appetite
for yer half-rotten meat anyway."
"Whassat?" The man shot back. "Rotten meat? You's the
one selling rotten fruits and vegetables, you's sure one to
talk."
"Our produce is fresh."
"You must be kiddin' me! Even i' this season, theys flies
swarmin' all over 'em. If they's not rotten, theys must be
right withered."
"What? You little―"
The men lunged at each other. Shion raised himself off
the ground and started running.
 "Hey! Damnit, you come back 'ere!" The man bellowed
angrily. Shion had no time to turn around to check. His
body bristled in fear of being shot from behind at any
second. He tripped.
"This way."
He was grabbed by the arm.
"This way, quickly."
He was dragged into a narrow alleyway between two
buildings. Shion leaned back heavily against the wall, and
drew several deep breaths.
"Doing alright there?"
He lifted his face. A woman was smiling at him. Her
red painted lips floated up vividly in the dim gloom. The
lips parted wide again.
"Oh, dear. You've cut your lip, it's bleeding. Looks like
you had a hard time back there. Poor thing."
The strong smell of her perfume filled Shion's nostrils.
"Thank you for helping me," Shion said to her, after his
breathing had returned somewhat back to normal. There
was a few seconds of silence, after which the woman
suddenly burst into laughter.
"I wonder how long it's been since someone last
thanked me," she chuckled. "It feels like years. By the
way, you've got interesting hair, sweetie."
"Huh―? Oh... I've been through a lot of, er, things..."
 "We've all been through a lot of things. And so have I,
here―"
Despite the biting cold, the woman was clad only in a
thin dress that bared her shoulders. She pulled her
neckline down to show him, and a pair of voluptuous
breasts appeared. Their whiteness stood out even more
than her red lips. Shion's eyes stung.
"Look, you see there's a burn mark? A man did that to
me with a hot metal rod, a long time ago. It was hell, I'm
telling ya. But look, see, doesn't it kind of look like a
snake? Like a snake is slithering over my chest."
I've got a snake too, and it's coiled around my whole
body.
He thought so, but he didn't put into words. The
woman continued giggling softly.
"Sweetie, don't you have any experience with women?"
"Huh?"
"Shall I give you a lesson? My place is just up ahead.
Why don't you come over, and we can have a good time.
How's that sound?"
"What?" Shion repeated dumbly.
"I'm asking if you if you want to come over and have a
good time." Irritation crept into the woman's voice. "I
haven't got anything to do until nighttime either. Don't
worry, it won't cost too much. So why don't we enjoy
ourselves, hmm?"
 The woman's arms reached around Shion's neck. He
was pushed back against the wall. Her lips pressed firmly
against his. The strong scent of her makeup washed over
him. He felt faint. Her warm tongue glided in between his
teeth and mingled with his own. Shion found himself
reflexively pushing the woman away.
"What was that for?" she said indignantly.
"No, I― Well― this isn't..."
"What're you mumbling on about? I helped you, didn't
I? Being my customer is the least you can do."
"Customer? But... I―"
"I'm not gonna force you if you don't want to. But you
still owe me money for the kiss."
"What?" Shion asked incredulously.
The woman's lips twisted, and her voice turned sugary
sweet.
"Now, don't be disagreeable," she purred. "You're a
man, aren't you? Come on, let's take it easy. I'll make sure
you have a good time, so come on over to my place,
sweetie."
"N―No thanks, it's really..."
Her white arms came clinging onto him again. Shion
was frozen rigid even more than when the gun had been
pointed at him. He couldn't move.
"Would you mind?" a voice spoke. "That one belongs to
me."
 Nezumi was standing at the entrance of the alleyway.
The woman furrowed her brow.
"What?"
"He's mine. Could I get him back?" Nezumi extended
his hand as if to beckon Shion over. The woman drew her
chin up and smiled thinly in realization.
"I see. No wonder I was getting such a slow reaction.
Sweetie here isn't interested in women."
"What? Actually that's not true, I'm―"
Nezumi pressed a hand over Shion's mouth and smiled
at the woman.
"That's right. He's so head-over-heels for me, even the
most beautiful girl couldn't attract his attention right
now."
The woman hunched her shoulders as if to say 'oh
well'. She glanced at Shion. "Money," she said.
"I don't care which way sweetie swings, but I still need
payment for that kiss. One silver coin."
Nezumi laughed softly.
"One whole silver for that kiss? That's pretty
expensive."
"That's how much it's worth. If sweetie can't pay for it,
you better pay up for him. You're his lover, aren't you?
Footing the bill once isn't gonna do any harm."
 "I guess you're right. Yeah, sure. Could I get change,
then?"
"Change?"
Nezumi leaned in toward the woman. He grabbed her
arm as she tried to back away, and drew her close.
"What―"
The woman's lips, parted in mid-sentence, were met
by Nezumi's. It happened right before Shion's eyes. The
woman resisted for a moment, then was still. Only her
bare and exposed throat contracted slightly as she
swallowed. A dog was barking somewhere in the distance.
A sewer rat scurried its way past Shion's feet and
disappeared. Nezumi drew away from the woman.
"How was it?" he asked.
"Not bad," the woman replied. "But not enough to give
you change."
"That's unfortunate," Nezumi said ruefully. "Then this
here, for m'lady." Nezumi placed an orange in the woman's
hand, and turned his back to her. He pulled Shion by the
arm. "Right, let's get going."
The woman called after them with her arms crossed.
"Sweet-cheeks, don't let yourself get too involved with
that man. It's a waste, you know. Make sure you get a
taste of what it's like to have fun with a girl."
 They weaved back into the crowd. The bustle and
mixture of smells that had agitated Shion only moments
before were now a source of relief.
"Why?" he muttered to himself. Nezumi drew up by his
side.
"Why what?"
"Why am I 'sweet-cheeks' when you're 'that man'?"
"Must be because I have more life experience."
"And she said I was slow," Shion grumbled.
"You are slow. And dense. Especially concerning
women. I hope I didn't ruin your first experience by
walking in on you," Nezumi snickered.
"Nezumi."
"Hm?"
"How long were you watching for?"
"Probably sometime around when you started
attacking the fat guy."
Shion stopped in his tracks. He was bumped into from
behind, and yelled at angrily.
"Why didn't you come help me?"
"I did. You were this close to being eaten alive by a
witch. Gobble-gobble, head-first, too."
"But before that, I was being held at gunpoint―"
 "That's your fucking mess," Nezumi said scathingly. His
grey eyes glittered harshly like the blade of a sharp knife.
Nezumi's smile always seemed to fade instantaneously.
"Let me tell you something, Shion. If you're going to
keep being naive and think that someone will always jump
in to help you, you'll never survive here. Depending on
other people isn't gonna keep you alive. You make sure you
get that straight."
Nezumi turned his face away and started walking
faster. Shion could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.
Nezumi was right, he was being naive. He had thought it
was only natural that Nezumi would come to help him.
Shion had been leaning on him all this time, an insolent
burden that was dragging him down. Here he was, hoping
to be treated equally, yet at the same time expecting to
be defended as if it was something he was entitled to.
Shion was overcome with shame.
He trailed close behind Nezumi, who had his
superfibre cloth wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.
"But you did manage to defend yourself back there,"
Nezumi said, slowing his gait slightly.
"Back there?"
"With the fat guy. You waited for the right chance to
get away."
"Oh, that," Shion said. "No, I was just desperate that
time. He looked like he was seriously about to shoot."
 "He probably was. If you were unlucky, you probably
would've had half your head blown off, and you'd be lying
there on the street."
"I don't even want to imagine. It's giving me the chills."
He really was shaking. There was mud smeared over
the knees of his pants, and the hem of his sweater. He
tried to brush it off, and tripped over something.
"Whoa―!"
He fell forward, but managed to regain his balance in
time to turn around. There were a pair of legs. Their feet
were bare. The upper half of the body was lying face
down, swallowed up by the darkness of the alleyway. Is he
sleeping? Here?
"Um― hello? Can you hear me?" Shion called over to
him. He was yanked from behind.
"Will you stop doing that?" Nezumi said in annoyance.
"If we don't hurry up, it'll get dark in no time. Geez, do
you have a thing for making detours?" Nezumi clicked his
tongue.
"But this man― he's going to catch a cold if he sleeps
out here like this."
"He isn't gonna get any colder than that. He's dead."
"What?"
A woman called over to them nearby from her clothing
shop.
 "Oy, are ya two acquaintances with this here? If you
are, mind cleanin' it up? It's blockin' the way, makin' a
mighty nuisance outta itself."
Nezumi shook his head slightly.
"Of course not. I've never even seen this old man
before."
"It's a woman, an old beggar lady. Out of all places,
she bloody had to snuff it right in front of my store, the
git."
"My deepest sympathies," Nezumi said solemnly. "Make
sure you get her cleaned up."
"That's enough o' yer cheeky attitude, little bugger!"
The woman bleated, swinging around a red piece of cloth.
Her arm was as thick as Shion's thigh. I'd go flying if I got
punched by that, Shion thought to himself.
He was yanked along by Nezumi. The sight of those
legs, like withered twigs, overlapped with another pair of
legs, wrapped in a fine pair of trousers and wearing
leather shoes. They were the legs that protruded from
behind the bench, in a secluded corner of the Forest Park
inside No. 6. It was the first dead body that Shion had
born witness to, and the first victim that it had claimed.
"He wasn't killed by it," Nezumi smiled wanly, as if to
read Shion's thoughts. "That old man― or woman, was it?
She wasn't eaten by any parasite wasp. It was either
hunger, or the cold ― maybe a combination of both ― that
carted her off to heaven. There's a whole season for that,
and it's coming soon."
"Season for what?"
"Where people freeze to death. Old people, children,
the infirm... the weak ones die out first. It's the season of
Natural Selection."
"Natural selection..." Shion murmured the words. They
were cold, like a frozen confection. But they were neither
sweet nor delicious like one. They were just cold. The tip
of his tongue felt numb.
"Shion, you said there would be lots of casualties in
the Holy City when the parasite wasps become active
again in the spring, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, here, people die every day, especially in the
winter. Which one do you think is easier to go through,
being devoured by a wasp, or starving and freezing to
death?"
Shion had put a hand to his neck without thinking.
There was a scar at the base of it, where the incision had
been made. Underneath was the thing. It had failed in
hatching, and was half-melted when it was found, but it
had been struggling to eat its way out from this spot. The
vicious pain, the suffering and despair from that time was
still fresh in his mind. He never wanted to go through the
same thing again. But he had no way of comparing this
with the elderly woman's death. He had no idea what it
was like to starve or freeze.
"Nezumi, what's going to happen to her?"
"Her?"
"That― body. It's not just gonna get left there, is it?"
"Of course not. It might get cold out here, but bodies
will still rot if they're left out like that. Then wild dogs
and crows will come to pick at them until it's impossible to
do anything, so they usually get cleaned up before then."
"So there must be a communal cemetery, or
something?"
"Cemetery? There's no land here that we can put aside
for dead people. The Disposers come. See, over there. The
guys that are sitting there eating meat. See them?"
In the direction where Nezumi pointed, there was a
ripped tent under which there were several burly men
sitting, talking loudly and devouring meat glistening with
fat. A scraggly, pitifully thin dog was lapping desperately
at the juices that dripped from them onto the ground.
There was a strange vehicle parked beside the tent. It
was a bicycle, strapped to a flat cargo bed on wheels.
Sitting on top of it was a large basket.
"They're the Disposers. In exchange for money, they
get rid of dead bodies. It's people like that old hag back
there that eventually cough up the money to get it done.
They don't want a body lying around their store, but
they're too disgusted to pick it up and toss it onto
someone else's property, or they feel guilty about doing it.
So they dismiss it as their unlucky day, and call up the
Disposers to get rid of it. I hear it's a pretty lucrative
business. I guess it would be, since there are people that
die all the time on the road who have no friends or
relatives."
"Do they bury the bodies properly?"
"They burn them. They gather them all in one place,
and set them on fire. I guess you can call it some sort of
cremation, if you want. They don't get anything fancy like
a requiem or prayer of repose, though, that's for sure."
Shion's eyes met with a man who was in the midst of
ripping a chunk of meat off the bone with his teeth. He
grinned widely, and grease dripped from his sparse
whiskers. Then he stood up, and started making his way
toward them. He tossed the bone carelessly on the
ground, and the scraggly dog pounced on it.
"Hey fellas, how'd you like to join us?"
His arm reached out, and before Shion could dodge it,
he was grabbed roughly by his hair.
"So it's real, huh. I thought it was a wig. Pretty
interesting hair you got."
"Stop it," Shion yelled. "Let me go."
"Hmm, not bad. I never seen this kinda hair myself.
Kinda pretty, actually. You almost look like a doll of some
sort, little fella."
 Vulgar laughter erupted from his group of companions
sitting behind him. Shion turned to look beside him. There
was no sign of Nezumi, who had been there moments
before.
"Let go," he repeated loudly.
"No need to make a ruckus, now. Why don'tcha join us
for some drinks? We got meat too."
"I said let go," Shion said through clenched teeth.
The bulky man showed no signs of loosening his grip.
Shion could feel the man's breath on his cheek, putrid with
the smell of alcohol and meat. He turned his face away.
Nezumi. He bit his lip hard, and resisted the urge to
call out his name. He had to try to defend himself first, or
no one would come to help him. Shion let his body relax.
"Fine."
"Hm?"
"I give in. I'll join you just for one drink."
"That so? There's a good fella. This way."
The man's arm relaxed just slightly. Shion lifted his
leg, aimed at the man's groin, and kicked as hard as he
could.
Ngh. The man let out a muffled groan, and doubled
over as he collapsed to the ground. Shion leapt over his
curled back and broke into a sprint.
 Running away is all I've been doing today. The fleeting
remark crossed his mind, but soon disappeared. He tore
through the street as fast as his legs would carry him.
There were less people milling about, which made it
easier for him to thread his way through. No more
alleyways for me, he thought, and concentrated on
keeping straight to the road. If he stopped, he felt like he
would be grabbed by the collar from behind.
"―Agh!―"
His foot slipped, and his body floated up momentarily.
Then he was slammed to the ground. The pain jolted
through his body from head to toe.
"Whoa―" Now he was sliding downwards. He was on a
slope of grey concrete, though now it felt like more of a
steep slide. He hurtled downwards. Shion closed his eyes,
and brought his arms over his head to protect it. The
action made him lose his balance, and he tumbled forward
in a somersault.
His vision went dark. Just as he was about to scream,
the smell of moist dirt reached his nostrils. He was thrown
out onto the ground. Clods of dirt flew into his mouth.
Shion lay coughing for several moments, and then
stretched out on his back. His heart was thudding
frantically, and it was hard to breathe. Dull and sharp
pains alternately throbbed all over his body.
The taste and sensation of dirt still remained in his
mouth. He had never imagined that dirt could taste this
sweet and fragrant.
 He could see the stars: they were winking in the
settling dusk. The sky was neither black nor blue, but
closer to indigo, with a wash of purple― it was stunningly
beautiful. He felt his soul getting sucked into its beauty.
He had never thrown himself out on the ground like this to
stare up at the sky. Had something as beautiful as this
always existed above him?
He heard quiet footsteps padding toward him. A
wistful whimper. A warm tongue slowly licked his forehead
and his hair.
"You―"
It was the dog, the skeletal dog that had been hanging
about the group of men. It lapped at his head persistently.
"Are you worrying about me?" As soon as the words
were out of his mouth, Shion noticed something else.
When he had been grabbed by the man, his hair had been
smeared with grease and meat juices. The dog was licking
that spot with enormous concentration.
"Okay, that's enough, that's enough," Shion said. "I
don't want your slobber all over my hair instead." Shion
propped himself up off the ground, and stood up carefully.
He didn't feel any severe jabs of pain. It looked like he
had managed not to sprain anything or break any bones.
He let his gaze take in everything around him. He inhaled
sharply.
"This―"
He was in the midst of a ruin.
-- END OF CHAPTER 2 --
CHAPTER 3
Sin and Sanctity

Humans are shapeshifters; there's naught that's

not in this world. [1]
- Ihara Saikaku, 'Saikaku's Tales from Various
Provinces'

The slope that Shion had skidded down turned out to

be an enormous pillar tipped over on its side. Upon closer
inspection, he could see that the base was carved out with
the figures of several women robed in thin, translucent
cloth. Rusty metal foundations were all that remained of
what probably used to be an arched ceiling, and several
withered vines feebly clung to them. The wall had
collapsed entirely, and chunks of stone in all sizes were
scattered hither and thither.
If he had accidentally struck his head on one of those―
Shion shuddered.
The scene before his eyes was something Shion was
seeing for the first time. Naturally, there were no such
dilapidated buildings to be found in No. 6. All buildings
were built accordingly to their purpose, with efficiency
and functionality prioritized above all. Remains such as
these, which had drifted through time, exposed to the
wind and rain, were synonymous to illusion, and were not
a product of reality.
 He drew a breath, and let his gaze wander about him
again. The wind whipped about in a fierce dance. As if
continuing its journey toward yet a more ruinous state, a
portion of the wall made a dry, crackling sound as it
crumbled right before Shion's eyes.
"Nezumi," he called. It wasn't a plea for help. He had
just wanted to call his name. "You're there, aren't you?
Come out already."
"You're getting sharper," said a voice somewhere from
above. Shion looked up to see Nezumi sitting on a window
ledge several metres up. Nothing remained of the window
itself except for the frame. The rectangular void, which
was bordered in black, looked like a yawning mouth on the
face of the crumbling wall, opened wide to let out a
scream.
Nezumi jumped down from his spot several metres up.
He landed squarely on the soft dirt.
"You're light on your feet," Shion commented.
"I am most humbled by your gracious compliments,
your Highness."
"Quite something," Shion quipped. "Not to mention
how amazingly fast you seem to disappear when you get
into a tight spot."
Nezumi shrugged his shoulders slightly, and gave a soft
chuckle.
"You've even learned how to be sarcastic. Quite
something, yourself. Grown up a bit, haven't you?"
 "I must've gotten ten years' worth of experience from
walking through that market."
Nezumi's hand waved languidly in front of Shion's face.
"So you nearly got mowed down by a gun, got seduced
by a woman, tripped over a dead body, and got hit on by
an old man. Well, I guess for a little boy like you, that
counts for about ten years. But―"
"Hm?"
"You really have gotten better at running away,"
Nezumi said approvingly. "Way better than your last try
with the fat guy."
"The Disposers, you mean?"
"Yup. It looked like that geezer was seriously into you.
To be honest, I thought you'd be good as gone if you
managed to get dragged inside."
"You disappeared awfully fast for that."
"I don't get involved in more trouble than I need to,"
Nezumi laughed silently. "But you did a good job of making
a getaway. Let me tell you, though, those guys don't give
up easily. And you stand out on your own as it is. I'd be
careful if I were you."
"It is with utmost gratitude that I accept your words of
advice, your Majesty."
"Oh dear, and your comebacks have gotten better too,"
Nezumi laughed out loud this time, but softly. The thin
dog was sprawled out on the ground, wagging its tail from
side to side. The squalor of the market felt like a dream.
A silent stillness pervaded the place as if the mountains of
debris were absorbing all the sound around them.
"Nezumi, where are we?"
"Take a guess."
"I don't have a clue― looks like it used to be a pretty
big building..."
"It's a hotel. There used to be a hospital across from
here. Beside that was a playhouse, I think― I don't know
much about this place, either."
A hotel, a hospital, a playhouse...
"So this really used to be a decent town."
"I guess so. I mean I don't really know what a decent
town is supposed to look like, but there probably weren't
bodies everywhere, to say the least. At least back then."
"Back then?"
"Before No. 6 was established."
Shion wasn't surprised. He had expected as much. He
closed his fingers lightly over his palm.
"I've learned about the history of No. 6, and how it
came to be. It was one of the very first classes we took."
"Mm-hmm," Nezumi replied offhandedly.
"A series of large-scale wars erupted all over the world
as the last century was coming to a close. It was before
neither of us were born. As a result of the massive amount
of bombs and biological weapons that were used, the land
was utterly destroyed and the climate deteriorated
severely. The majority of all landmasses, with just a few
tiny exceptions, lost all ability to sustain human life.
There were an enormous amount of casualties. The people
that remained vowed never to war again, and in those
regions that were spared destruction, they founded six
utopian cities. And No. 6 was one of them."
"That's what you learned."
"Yeah."
"And you've always believed it to be true?"
"That's the truth that we were taught to believe."
"You remember what you said on the day we first
met?" Nezumi said. "You said you didn't think No. 6 was
perfect."
"I did."
"Was that a lie?"
"No," Shion answered. "I honestly thought so. But
before I met you, I didn't realize that was how I really felt.
I met you― and that's when I finally knew."
He had met Nezumi, and realized. He had finally
heard the sound of his own conscience creak as it strained
against its shackles. He had always felt suffocated. In No.
6, he had everything. He had plenty of food, a warm bed,
and full access to medical care at his fingertips. And it
didn't stop there― at the age of two, when he had been
acknowledged as a top-ranking individual in his
Examinations, he had acquired the privilege to live in the
luxury neighbourhood of Chronos. All its residents were
provided a first-class environment on many facets.
Before he had met Nezumi on that stormy night of his
twelfth birthday, he had been surrounded by everything he
could wish for, all of first-class quality. But that day,
gazing at the wind and rain that rumbled out his window,
what Shion had felt was a destructive impulse that seared
him to the very core.
He had felt unbearably suppressed. Like a corralled
animal that instinctively rams itself against the fence,
Shion had wanted to be released from the invisible cage
that trapped him. At the very bottom of the deepest part
of Shion's subconscious, a voice had been resounding.
This is a facade.
Here, everything is given to you.
But there is nothing here.
You can't live here anymore.
So escape.

Break it.
Destroy it.
Destroy what?
Everything.
Everything?
 When the voice within him had overlapped with
Nezumi's words, Shion had finally understood. I don't know
the truth. I don't know anything.
Nezumi's gaze slid away from Shion as he turned his
back to him. Shion grabbed his arm.
"Nezumi, tell me."
Tell me the truth. Not a lie, or a haphazard excuse.
Tell me its true form― of the Holy City, of No. 6.
His fingers were shaken off roughly.
"I'm not your nanny. If you want to know, then find out
for yourself."
He was shaken off again. No matter how many times
he tried to grasp at Nezumi, he was always pushed away.
Rejected ruthlessly. But still, Shion kept extending his
hand.
The dog was pressing its body against him. It was so
thin its ribs jutted out, but it was still warm. Very warm.
It had the warmth of something who was alive.
"Are you feeling sorry for me, by any chance?"
The dog twitched its drooping, light-brown ear. For a
moment, it looked like it grinned at him. Then it lumbered
ahead of him to Nezumi's side. Nezumi's hand slowly and
gently petted the dog's head.
"So you're nice to dogs, huh."
"Dogs don't act like babies."
 "But dogs can't sew."
"What?"
"Dogs can't suture a wound. I noticed the suturing kit
was still in tact in the emergency case. If you ever get
hurt again, I'll sew that wound right up for you."
"Why, thank you," Nezumi said sarcastically. "Your offer
is so great it's sending chills down my back. That face
came into my dreams for quite a while after that day, you
know."
"Did I look that great?"
"You were grinning. You had this look on your face like
you were having the time of your life. Every time I dreamt
about it I had nightmares."
"Well, it was the first time in my life doing a suture. I
remember being really excited. Say," said Shion
enthusiastically. "So did you take out the stitches
yourself?"
"Of course. It was easier than making soup."
"Did it leave a scar?"
"Yeah. But I won't show you."
Shion stuck out his lip.
"Don't be stingy."
Watch your feet, Nezumi interrupted loudly.
"The stairs start here. We're going up."
 The sun was setting lower, and darkness was setting in
thickly. A large part of the stairs had crumbled away like
the wall, and what was left of it wound upwards in a wide
clockwise curve. Here, the ceiling was still in tact. It
looked like it had originally been painted white, and
although most of it had peeled away, there were white
flecks of paint still left over here and there. A chandelier
was hanging over the stairwell, and to Shion's surprise, it
was relatively undamaged.
"So this place really was a hotel."
"It still is."
"Huh?"
"This place is still used as a hotel."
"No way."
They emerged at the top of the stairs and were
greeted by a large, vacant chamber. It had probably been
the lobby. There walls were set in glass from floor to
ceiling. The panes in the top half had been shattered and
strewn over the floor, but the bottom panes still remained
unbroken. Ripped and faded drapes hung lifelessly over
them. Vines that had probably intruded through the
broken windows clung densely to the walls, criss-crossed
like a network of capillaries. Leaves were falling from
them, adding to the thick layer that had already carpeted
the floor.
It was thanks to a dim light in the room that Shion had
been able to decipher this much despite the settling
darkness. It came from a candle that was burning on top
of a stone table.
"Nezumi, do you smell something?"
"The candle burning, maybe?"
"No, it's not wax. It smells― almost like some
animal..."
Nezumi gave a laugh.
"You really have come a long way. Your nose has gotten
sharper. Now let's try working on your eyesight. Look."
"Ah―"
A shadow moved in the darkness where the light could
not reach. It was not a human. It had four legs, two
pointed ears, and was growling menacingly.
"A dog," he whispered.
It was a large dog, covered in short, dark-brown fur,
with a fierce glint in its eye. Its throat was rumbling in a
low growl. Shion took a step backwards.
"He's not the only one," Nezumi added.
There was a note of amusement in his voice― he was
enjoying Shion's reaction. Shion resisted the urge to turn
and give Nezumi a glare. He had no attention to spare for
that.
With the first dog in the lead, several dogs of all
shapes, sizes, and colours were emerging from the
darkness. They were far from what would be called pets.
They were dirty, their eyes glinted viciously, and their
teeth were bared.
"Is this a nest for wild dogs?"
"Might be. What do you wanna do? Run away? If you
don't decide soon, you'll get your throat torn out."
The dark-brown dog approached him warily. It wasn't
growling anymore. It silently but steadily drew up to him,
without ever lowering its gaze.
Shion gazed back into the set of caramel eyes that
were the same colour as its fur. Behind the savage light in
its eyes, there resided something surprisingly gentle. Shion
could feel its presence there.
Intellect?
Shion lowered himself into a kneel. The shattered
glass crunched underneath his denim-clad knee. Nezumi
fidgeted. Shion didn't move. Crouched on the ground, he
stared straight at the dog.
The dog stopped. It stood still in front of him. It
opened its mouth, lolling its pink tongue, and licked the
tip of Shion's nose. Then it lay down on the spot, and gave
a yawn. All the other dogs began moving about on their
own. Some began to groom each other, others sprawled
out on the floor; still others began sniffing at their
surroundings, and none of them seemed to have any
concern for Shion's presence.
"I passed the interview," Shion grinned as he looked up
at Nezumi. Nezumi clicked his tongue, and turned away.
 "Didn't the wild dogs scare you at all?" he said sourly.
"They did. But wild dogs don't light candles."
Nezumi sniffed in derision. "You've never even seen a
candle before."
"I just did for the first time. It was brighter than I
imagined it to be. Hey, Nezumi, does someone live here?"
Laughter rang out. It echoed off the ruins, and faded
into the darkness.
"Pleased to have ya, guest."
It was a human voice, but he couldn't see who it
belonged to. The voice was echoing from so many
directions that he couldn't tell from whence it came. It
ricocheted and overlapped in countless layers. Just
listening to it made him feel dizzy.
"Stop shitting around." Nezumi bent down. He picked
up a piece of debris, and flung it straight into the darkness
where the dogs had come from. It was sucked into the
gloom, but he could hear a definite sound in the distance
as it hit the floor.
"Watch it." The focus of the voice settled to one point
in the darkness. It was a young voice. A light flickered in
the inky-black pool.
"That's some violent way to greet someone, Nezumi.
You've got no manners."
"You could use some manners yourself, if that was
what you call the proper way to welcome a guest."
 A figure was weaving through the dogs toward them
with a candleholder. Even by the candle's flame, the
person looked like he was thrown in shadow.
His waist-length hair, his eyes, his trousers that were
ripped at the knees, and his baggy sweater were all black.
He had tan skin.
Was he a boy? A girl?
Shion couldn't make the distinction. The stranger's
pointed chin and round eyes reminded him of a small
rodent. He was very small and thin, and reached only up
to about Shion's shoulders in height.
"He lives here," Nezumi said. "I don't know his real
name. We just call him Inukashi."
"Like― dog lender?"
"That's the one," the stranger answered. "Lending dogs
is my trade. Nice to meet ya, Shion." Inukashi grinned.
Shion was taken by surprise.
"You know my name."
"I'm quick to catch onto things around here. As long as
I have my dogs, getting any information about these parts
is a piece of cake. I know your name, and I know that you
kicked the Disposer guy in the nuts before you came
running here. This guy told me everything."
The emaciated dog wagged its tail from its place
beside Inukashi.
"You can speak with dogs?"
 "I'll hold conversations with anyone, as long as they're
not human. Whenever you want any information, feel free
to come to me." Inukashi extended his hand with a smile.
He was wearing a thick, silver ring. It matched well with
his tan skin.
"Nice to meet you, too." Shion also extended his own
hand.
It had been a while since he had shaken hands with
someone. So far, his experiences had only consisted of
running away, yelling, or rolling around. Inukashi's face
was open and affectionate, and reminded him of a puppy.
A sharp pain ran through his palm.
"Agh!"
Shion withdrew his hand hastily. At the base of his
index finger, there was a small wound about the size of a
pinprick. Blood was already starting to well up from it. It
ran down the palm of his hand in a single, red stream. He
thought he felt the tips of his fingers go numb.
Inukashi threw his head back and cackled.
"What was that for?" Shion said in disbelief.
"'What was that for' he says!" Inukashi crowed. "Haha,
what a surprise! You fell right into that handshake, and
you're turning on me and asking me 'what was that for'?
Classic."
 Inukashi showed his palm to Shion, and bent his fingers
slightly. A tiny needle-tip poked out of the middle of the
ring. When he straightened his fingers, it retracted again.
"It's been used as an assassination weapon for ages.
Well, the proper way to use it would be to coat the
needle-tip with poison. But I haven't done anything to
these, so you can relax."
Shion pressed hard on the base of his finger. He licked
his dry lips, and opened his mouth in question.
"Why would you do that?"
"Oh dear," said Inukashi exaggeratedly. "Now he's
asking me, why would you do that?"
Inukashi's gaze moved to Nezumi, who stood by
silently.
"Haven't you taught this guy anything about how to
live here?"
"That's not my responsibility."
"You picked him up and brought him home, didn't you?
If you're gonna pick up a stray, you gotta take care of him
properly. He'll make himself useful one day."
"I'm not so sure about that."
Inukashi laughed again.
"If he doesn't, just eat him. Or is he―" Inukashi's gaze
travelled to Shion's hair. "He's got interesting hair. Has he
got issues, or what?"
 Nezumi turned up the corner of his mouth and
answered shortly.
"As many issues as the dogs you have. Too many to
count."
"Uh-huh. So the rumours were true. You really are
keeping a young boy as a pet." Inukashi's face turned
serious as he stared at Shion from head to toe. It was a
bold and insolent gaze. The thin dog suddenly raised itself
off the floor, and barked once. Two furry brown balls came
tumbling out of the darkness. They were puppies,
probably a month or two old. Their noses and tails were
tipped with white. The skinny dog lay down again, showing
its belly. Its teats drooped pitifully. The puppies eagerly
latched themselves onto them. Their round bottoms
wagged from side to side.
"Wow, puppies!" Shion exclaimed. He gently petted
their backs so not to get in the way of their feeding.
"Wow, Nezumi, look. They're so soft. Why don't you try
petting them too?"
"No thanks."
"But look, they're puppies. So you're a mom, huh. It
must be tough for you, raising all these kids."
Inukashi furrowed his brow and retreated half a step
away from Shion.
"What's up with this guy? What's he doing having a
serious conversation with a dog? Is he unbalanced or
something?"
 Nezumi pointed to his temple.
"He's a little vacant up here. It comes naturally to
him."
"Comes naturally, huh? Why are you taking care of this
weirdo?"
"Like I said, he's got issues. And he might not look it,
but he's pretty good with his hands. He can even pull off a
simple surgery."
"I don't care what he can do, I wouldn't have any of it.
He'd never be anything more than a dead weight."
"Couldn't have said it better myself," replied Nezumi.
"So have you looked up what I asked you to?"
"Of course. A job's a job. Let's go upstairs." Inukashi
took his candle holder in his other hand and disappeared
back into the darkness. There were more stairs. Like the
ones before, they wound upwards in a gentle curve. These
ones weren't crumbled as badly. The rubble was cleared
with a space just wide enough for a person to walk
through.
"Oh―" Shion murmured in surprise as they emerged at
the top of the stairs.
A narrow hallway ran straight before them. There was
a person curled up at the edge of the hall. Beside him
were a pair of dogs. They had long white fur, and they
were nestled closely against the person as if to protect
him. Shion squinted his eyes, and he could make out
several more of these groups of people and dogs curled up
together.
"What are these people doing?"
Inukashi answered over his shoulder.
"They're my customers."
"Customers?"
"This place used to be a hotel, and it still is now.
Rumour says this place used to be quite grand, but now it's
just somewhere people can bunk for a bit of money if they
have nowhere to stay for the night. We have beds, too. If
you can cough up the cash, I can get them ready for ya."
"What about those dogs?"
"I rent them out for heating. It can get pretty cold at
night, but it's not so bad if you curl up with a dog or two
like them. You won't freeze to death, at least."
"So that's where 'dog-lender' comes from."
"Dogs are useful for other things too. They'll collect
information, guard your property, or carry your stuff.
They'll do anything. They're probably much more useful
than a natural airhead like you."
Nezumi clucked his tongue.
"That's my line."
At the very end of the hall was a wooden door. Beyond
it was a small room, with a low ceiling and no windows. A
round table stood in the centre of it. Inukashi placed the
candle holder down, and spread an old map over the
surface of the table.
"This map that Nezumi got his hands on is from around
twenty years ago. This is my hotel here, and LK-3000
should be somewhere around here."
"Latch Building isn't marked on this map," Nezumi
added. "I asked Inukashi to look into that."
He ran a finger lightly over the map. It was a casual
gesture, but one of understated elegance. It was a
movement calculated and honed to perfection, fully
aware of watching eyes.
"What?" Nezumi tilted his head at Shion's gaze.
"No― I just thought that sometimes you move really
elegantly."
"Huh?"
"Sometimes your gestures are really captivating. I
couldn't help but stare."
Inukashi looked up at them, his gaze alternating
between Nezumi and Shion's face.
"How can you say something like that in front of his
face?" he asked in disbelief. "Nezumi, this guy really is
naturally oblivious. How do you put up with him?"
"I manage somehow."
"Shion, haven't you heard what this guy does for a
job?"
 "No."
Inukashi thrust his open palm toward Shion.
"If you pay up, I can tell you. Selling information is
another one of my trades."
"I don't have any money."
"What? You don't? Nezumi, you're taking care of a
penniless bum?" Inukashi's eyes narrowed. "So he has weird
hair, he's an airhead, shakes hands without a second
thought, and has no money― Nezumi, where did you bring
him from?"
"Where do you think?"
"I'm asking the question here."
"If you pay me, I can tell you."
"Don't mess around," Inukashi snapped. "You're the one
who should be paying up."
Nezumi took out a small leather pouch from his
pocket.
"There you go."
The contents of the pouch fell on top of the map. It
was a small, grey mouse.
"It's a mico-robot. It has audio and video recognition
and recording sensors, and it's mounted with a
solar-powered micro-battery. One charge will make it last
for thirty-six hours. It can move around freely to gather
information. You'll find plenty of use for the places your
dogs can't get into. You were telling me you wanted one,
right?"
Inukashi nodded wordlessly. He moved his head up and
down in an exaggerated way, much like how a small child
would nod.
"Are you really going to give this to me?" he asked.
"Yeah. If your information is worth it."
Nezumi put the mouse back into the pouch again, and
clenched it lightly. Inukashi's tone of voice sped up.
"Fine. I'll jump right to the conclusion. Latch Building
doesn't exist."
"Is that all you've got?"
"Of course not. It doesn't exist, but there's something
that goes by that name."
"Latch Building?"
"Latch Bill, and it's the name of a newspaper. A long
time ago, there used to be a newspaper company by that
name, right behind this hotel. It went bankrupt and got
torn down to be made into a parking lot for this place. It
happened before this map was made, which is why it
doesn't exist."
"So Latch Bill 3F means―"
"If it means the 3rd floor of that newspaper company,
then―"
"Then?"
 "I have no idea," Inukashi said abruptly. "There's no
way for me to know what could have been on the 3rd floor
of a newspaper that went out of business
twenty-something years ago. You should meet up directly
with the guy who has ties to that place."
"There's someone with ties to it?"
"Yeah. I got the location of one guy who had ties to
Latch Bill. And said guy also has interesting connections to
No. 6. Listen carefully―"
Nezumi leaned forward. Shion swallowed.

***

No. 6 was shrouded in the red glow of the sunset.

Nothing was more exquisite than the sunset of late
autumn. The man let out a satisfied sigh.
What beauty this was, what a tranquil scene. The
Forest Park only days ago had been showing a vivid
contrast between turning leaves and those that were still
green, but now most of the trees had lost their leaves. It
was a peaceful kind of beauty, of nature that was quietly
preparing for the approaching winter.
He had gathered here the pinnacles of modern
science; he had nature under his management, and the
ultimate utopian city was nearing its completion. People
were fortunate to be able to be born, raised, and live to
an old age here. They were the chosen ones.
 There was no such thing as misfortune here. Even the
occasional hurricane that came upon them was an
abundant source of natural irrigation that watered the
agricultural and farming pastures that spread from East to
Southern Blocks.
All it needed was a little more. A little more, and the
land of the gods would finally be complete. A utopia,
where only the chosen ones would reside. It only needed a
little more.
"You really must love the view from here." A voice said
behind him, with the hint of a laugh.
"Wouldn't you agree that it's excellent?"
The man that had laughed silently shook his head in an
expression of refusal. He was wearing a white lab coat.
"I prefer the micro-universe. The world of bacteria,
microbes, neurons, macrophages, viruses. When you get to
something like viruses, you're at the nanometre scale. You
could only see them through an electron microscope.
They're very beautiful, you know. The really beautiful
things are things you can't see with the naked eye. There's
only so much that your eyes can show you as is."
"That's always been your mantra, hasn't it. You've been
saying that for as long as I can remember."
"It's my unchanging mantra."
"And you also still drink strong coffee before and after
supper."
 "That's another unchanging habit of mine."
The men looked at each other and chuckled quietly.
They had known each other for decades. They knew well
what part of the other had changed, and what remained
the same.
"So what now? I think it's about time." The man raised
his custom-made coffee cup. The coffee in it remained
steaming and fragrant as if it had just been poured, thanks
to the adjustment mechanism built into the cup. The man
robed in the lab coat licked his bottom lip. It was his habit
when he was immersed in thought.
"You're talking about collecting more samples," he
said.
"Live ones."
"Yes, we've already collected a few dead sample
bodies. But we can't say they're nearly enough, though.
We want a few more."
"If you want, I can find ways to go about it. How many
do you need?"
"I'll report to you later with how many we want for
each condition based on sex, age, and history of illness."
"That would be great. So how about the live ones? Do
you want me to go into collection preparation?"
"No, I need more time."
"Why?"
 "The data from the collected samples is still
incomplete. We're still running analyses and uploading it
to the database. I want to flesh that out first."
"It's taking unusually long for you. How rare."
"If we were able to do it publicly, things would go
much more smoothly. But doing this much under wraps is
going to take double the time. I want you to keep that in
mind. Besides, we should have entered the live samples
stage only after the dead sample database was complete.
That was an unexpected occurrence― we have to
investigate as to why that happened in this stage. It'll all
take time...."
"I know," the man conceded. "I'm not rushing you. Make
sure that everything gets carried out carefully, thoroughly,
and perfectly. This is all connected to No. 6's future roots.
Yes― and this is the final piece."
"The final piece to make this place a Holy City in the
actual sense, hmm." The lab coat chuckled. "Cheers to the
Great Leader." He raised his coffee cup lightly.
"And cheers to the Great Brain behind it all." The man
lifted his cup as well. There was a moment of silence. The
man in the lab coat spoke with a slightly lowered voice.
"But is it really good to go?"
"What?"
"Collection of the living sample. I heard a certain Rat
is with him."
 The man placed his coffee cup down, and wiped his
lips with his fingers.
"It's just one rat. It should barely be an obstacle at
all."
"If you could get him alive as well― I'm interested in
him."
"You want to cut him open?"
"An autopsy, hmm. That would be rather nice. I would
like to investigate every corner of his body. But before
that― we need more samples."
The man in the lab coat suddenly stood up, and began
soundlessly pacing on the thick carpet. He strode
impatiently, taking large steps with his hands behind his
back. It was a bad habit of his that he had since he was
young. Following the movements of the tall lab-coated
man with his gaze, the man reclined deeply into his desk
chair.
"Yes that's the main issue," the lab coat continued.
"The total number of samples is severely lacking. We need
more, Fennec." Fennec was a nickname that had been
given to the man when he was young. A desert fox. It had
the smallest body and largest ears of its kind. Its ears,
which could reach up to fifteen centimetres long, was not
only well-suited for releasing body heat effectively, but
possessed keen hearing ability that could detect even a
grasshopper hopping in the sand. He had also heard that,
contrary to its cute appearance, it had a vicious
personality.
 It was not a nickname that he liked very much. He had
not used it, nor been called by it for quite some time now.
He had almost forgotten about it. But he didn't feel the
same repulsion toward it as he did in his younger days. He
even felt somewhat fond about it now.
Fennec. The desert fox. Not bad.
"We don't have enough living samples either. I'd want
at least two, no, three more on hand. But that could be
difficult...."
The man in the lab coat continued muttering to
himself, and paced increasingly quickly. He was
completely oblivious to everything else around him. He
had probably not even realized that he had called the man
Fennec. He had been like that since he was young. His
research and experiments, his speculation, his
satisfaction. It was only ever about him. He had never
shown any interest toward things external to him. He
showed no attachments to power, money or women. He
had no need for faith, philosophy or morals in his life. A
brain of rare intelligence and a vacant soul....
―Which is why he's useful all the more.
The man trained his gaze on the pacing figure clad in
the lab coat, and smiled.
―You would have no use for a soul. If you did, it
would only be to declare your loyalty to me.
The lab coat stopped pacing.
 "Fennec, let's make another living sample. I want a
female this time. It might be difficult. Yes, at this stage it
will be very difficult... but that's why we should prepare
one ahead of time."
"Let's do it."
"There's a great risk of failure, however―"
"Failure and sacrifice are all things we must go
through in order to gain progress. Don't worry, we'll be
able to overcome it to hold the final piece in our hands."
"I guess you're right," the lab coat agreed.
"Let's have supper then, shall we? This probably won't
pique your interest much, but I've had it all prepared, and
the main course will be lamb. I've also a remarkable wine
to go with."
"And coffee after the meal?"
"Of course. But I beg you, at least take off that lab
coat while we eat."
The man lightly clapped the lab coat on the shoulder.
Then he gave a sidelong glance at the scene out his
window. Beyond the pane of thick, spotless glass, the stars
were beginning to twinkle.
***

"We're here."
Nezumi's feet stopped. They were standing in front of
a three-storey building. At least, it resembled more of a
building than the ruins that constituted the hotel, but in
the sense that it was also falling apart, they were none
too different.
The arched entranceway and the red brick walls had
probably once carried an air of pomp, but were now
strangled by vines, crumbled in places, and radiating an
aura of dilapidation. Nezumi jerked his chin upwards.
"Someone's home."

There was a light in the third-floor centre window.

From its brightness, it was most likely an electric lamp.
That meant there was electricity running in this building.
They pushed the wooden doors open, and entered
inside. There were no signs of people on the first or
second floors. The stairs, which were also wooden,
creaked loudly with each step they took.
If Inukashi's tip was a good one, a former reporter
from the Latch Bill newspaper was supposed to be living
here.
They climbed up to the third floor. There was light
spilling out from a crack of the open door into the wooden
hallway, which was carpeted with a thick layer of dust. In
the pool of light, there were several empty glass bottles.
It was easy to tell what these bottles used to hold. Shion
didn't have to pick one up to check, for the strong smell of
alcohol filled the air around them. In a darkened corner of
the hallway, there were towering piles of bundled papers,
and empty cans littered about it. Only the door from
which the light was spilling was neither dirty nor broken,
though it was very old. Shion raised his hand to knock, but
Nezumi held him back.
"What's wrong?"
"No, it's just― the air is strange."
"Air? What do you―"
Before Shion could finish his sentence, he heard a yell
from inside the room. It belonged to a man. There was the
sound of furniture being knocked over. A high-pitched
voice screaming angrily. He could hear the sound of glass
being smashed.
"Sounds serious. What now, Shion?"
"What do you mean, what now?"
"It looks like they're busy at the moment. Should we
come back another day?"
"As if."
"Thought so."
There was a loud noise again. A man's deep voice
yelled out for help. Shion tried to burst into the room, but
Nezumi restrained him and opened the door.
The room was well-lit by a large lamp. It was the
brightest light Shion had seen since coming to the West
Block. The light was illuminating clearly every corner of
the room. By the window there was a large desk, and
against the wall was a rather unimpressive textile sofa.
The floor was covered, again, with bundles of paper and
books that were piled up or scattered haphazardly. But
these were all things he had noticed when he had taken a
good look around the room much later on. What Shion saw
immediately over Nezumi's shoulder were two people
entangled with each other. It was a man and a woman.
The man was wearing pants, but his upper body was
naked. The woman was clad all in black. Her hair, cut
straight across at the shoulders, was also black. She was
straddling the man. The hem of her slitted skirt had
flipped up to reveal her thigh. She had well-endowed,
curvy body. She had a round face, round nose and round
eyes. Her face was tense.
The woman swung her right hand up.
"Help!" The man yelled. Shion realized that there was
a knife in the woman's hand. Nezumi tsked his tongue
shortly.
"You good-for-nothing!" The woman shouted. Nezumi
moved at the same time. Soundlessly and in a flash, he
was holding the woman's wrist mid-swing. Without a word,
he twisted it.
The knife clattered to the floor. Shion hastily picked it
up. He spotted a red knife pouch in the corner of his
vision. He grabbed it reflexively, and sheathed the blade.
He felt relieved.
"What the hell are you doing?" The woman screeched
shrilly. She had fallen backwards on her bottom from being
dragged by Nezumi.
 "I don't think you should be swinging around a toy like
this, Miss. It's dangerous," Nezumi said softly.
"Leave me alone. What's any of this got to do with
you? This good-for-nothing, shitbag of a womanizer
deserves to die."
The woman dissolved into tears on the floor. Still
holding the knife, Shion looked down at her hunched back.
He didn't know what to do. There was nothing in Shion's
manual that told him how to deal with this kind of
situation. Nezumi knelt down, and gently stroked her back
as it shook with her sobs. He lowered his voice into a quiet
murmur.
"Don't cry. No― you should cry. Cry to your heart's
content. You'll feel better that way. Go on, cry―"
It was like a lullaby. His whisper was deep and
soothing, and soaked into Shion's soul like the sound of the
rain that seeped into the basement room. He could see
the woman's agitation subside as its gentleness and
tranquility washed over her. But there was no gentleness
or tranquility in Nezumi's gaze. After taking a quick glance
around the room, his gaze stopped at the middle-aged
man who was gasping, half-naked on the floor. Then his
eyes flicked up to Shion, who was stock-still, rooted to the
spot. Shion took a step forward.
"Um― are you Rikiga-san? The one who used to work
for the Latch Bill newspaper?"
The man raised himself unsteadily and began to put
his arms through a shirt that had been draped over the
sofa. Though not exactly obese, he was rather fleshy
around the shoulders and waist. There was a white scar
that ran diagonally across under his right shoulder blade.
"Uh― have we gotten the wrong person?" Shion asked
uncertainly. "We've come here today because we heard we
could meet a Rikiga-san here―"
"You've got the right one."
It was the woman who had answered. Her face was a
sopping mess of tears, sweat and snot, but she was not
crying anymore.
"This good-for-nothing liar goes by that name. Once
upon a time he was a newspaper reporter, but now this
shitty excuse for a man is reduced to making shitty porno
magazines to pay for his liquor habit."
"And who's the one who had a hysteric fit when she got
dumped by said excuse for a man, huh?" retorted the man
who had been called Rikiga.
"What're you talking about?" the woman shot back.
"You're the one who said you wanted to get married!"
"And I'm telling you, issues have come up, and I can't
get married to you anymore."
"What issues?"
"Well― ah, um― you see..."
"If you're gonna try to trick me, at least take the time
to think up a proper lie. I'm not one to be messed with."
 Sparked to anger by her own words, the woman's
wrath threatened to boil over again. She suddenly lunged
a Shion, breathing fast.
"Give me my knife back!"
"No―I can't do that―" Shion resisted. "Stop, please. It's
dangerous."
"I said give the damn thing back. What 'issues', huh?
Let's hear your excuse. I can't believe I'm being shitted like
this. I'm gonna kill you."
"Stop, watch it―"
Nezumi stood up. With one step, he strode to Rikiga's
side and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Father, is she going to be our new mother from now
on?"
The woman froze. Her mouth gaped open, and her
eyelid twitched.
"Father?"
Nezumi nodded with an affectionate smile.
"Yes. We're his sons."
"You― you had kids? I've never heard anything about
that before."
The woman's voice turned hoarse. Rikiga blinked.
"Father and Mother separated a long time ago,"
Nezumi explained. "But Mother passed away just last
month, and so we came back to live with Father. We've
already heard before that Father has someone he loves.
But he said he would give up getting married so that we
could live together as a family again, the three of us.
Right, Shion-niisan?"
"Huh?"
"We came all the way here searching for Father, right?"
"What? Oh― yes, we have. We're his sons. Nice to meet
you."
Rikiga cleared his throat a few times.
"―That's how it is. They're my sons. I've had to take
them into my care now... raise these two on my own.
Living will become much more difficult. I couldn't put you
through that, honey. I love you, I love you so much. But
these kids need their father... I couldn't burden you by
asking you to be their mother. I had no choice but to ask
you to break up with me."
"So that was what came up..."
"Well― pretty much."
The woman ran a hand through her hair, and sighed.
"So that's how it is."
"That's how it is."
The woman ran a hand through her hair again, and
picked up her coat and purse, which were lying on the
floor. She looked at Shion, and drew her chin back slightly.
"You have strange hair. Is it a wig?"
 "Oh, um― stuff happened..."
"More issues? Like father like son, you guys must love
your issues. Oh well, fine. If that's what's going on, I'll
break up with you. As if I would want a middle-aged man
with kids anyway."
The woman gave an energetic wave of her hand.
"Good-bye, then. It was fun while it lasted."
The door closed. Shion let the knife in his hand drop
to the floor. His palms were sweaty from nerves.
Rikiga lifted the chair and placed it upright on the
floor, and began to gather the pieces of broken glass.
There had probably been some kind of drink in it, for its
contents had made a stain on the carpet that emitted such
an overpowering smell of alcohol that it made Shion feel
ill.
"Good god, she certainly let herself go," grumbled
Rikiga. "It was fun while it lasted, huh? Putting on a cool
face at the last minute. Geez."
Rikiga looked alternately at Shion and Nezumi, and
grinned.
"You saved me from the gallows. First, let me give you
my thanks."
He had strong, broad shoulders and considerable
height. The bridge of his nose was high, and it suited his
moustache well. His face was neither handsome nor ugly.
It was a face that was both energetic with optimism and
worn with hardship; it was a face of cunning, and steely,
resilient willpower.
"Your acting could have been better, though. Especially
for a star of the show like you, Eve."
Nezumi scooped the knife off the floor and smiled
thinly.
"You know about me?"
"I'm your fan. I went to see your show last week."
"That's nice to hear, but I didn't appear in any shows
last week."
"Really? Well, anyway, we wanted to do a special
feature in our magazine about you. We asked your
manager to get an interview with you, but he turned us
down."
"He probably would, for a magazine like this." Nezumi's
fingers flipped casually through the pages. The cover was
a photo of a naked woman. On the whole, she was rather
blurry. All the other pages were somewhat similar. Naked
women, half-naked men. Lewdness and provocation
overflowed in the flimsily-bound pages of the magazine.
"It's the go-to for young people," Rikiga said. "Teaches
them everything from birth control to picking up women."
"You should do a feature about the right way to dump
a woman next, old man."
Nezumi tossed the magazine aside. Rikiga raised his
hands in an exaggerated gesture.
 "Ouch Eve, that was pretty harsh. I thought you'd be
more of a pansy."
"Nice to hear that coming from someone who was
pinned on the floor by a woman just a minute ago."
"I was drunk, alright? And she suddenly just jumped at
me― but I never would've guessed that she had a knife on
her. Scary things, those women."
Shion took half a step forward.
"Eve... is that your real name, Nezumi?"
"No way. It's just for work."
"Your work... so you're a stage actor."
"Nothing half as classy as that. Maybe a couple steps
above this magazine."
"But― oh," Shion murmured in realization. "So that's
why you speak and move so gracefully."
A spotlight shines on a dark stage, illuminating a
single actor as he floats up out of the darkness.
Captivating the eyes, ears, and souls of all who watch, his
voice rings out― at times, with a soaring, elegant air; at
times, with a pained tremor like a wind that whistles low
to the ground.
Nezumi snorted.
"What're you imagining, Shion? We're talking about a
playhouse here, in the West Block. People who've got a
little spare cash to spend come out to forget their worries
for a little while. We haven't got any embroidered drop
curtains, decent costumes, or stage props. It's mostly
impromptu song or dance. That's it."
"But it still makes people forget their worries, right?"
"Huh?"
Shion was gazing unblinkingly at Nezumi. In these past
few hours, he had experienced almost as much as― no―
perhaps even more than what he had seen and heard his
entire life. Of course, this was still only just a glimpse.
But he had caught a glimpse of how harsh and brutal it
was just to live a day, an hour, even a moment, in this
world. If these people, in their brief moment of respite,
chose to go to this place of their own free will, and that
was where Nezumi was, then he thought it was amazing. It
neither filled their bellies, nor quenched their thirst. But
people still yearned for this crude stage and the tales told
on it, and immersed in them, they forgot their
melancholy. They clapped, wept, laughed, and bustled
with noise. There was no way of telling when death might
come sweeping down upon them. But in this moment, they
could still live and enjoy life. They could live and enjoy
life all the more because of it.
"I think it's amazing, Nezumi."
Nezumi sighed, caught himself hastily, and grimaced.
"Knock it off. It's not as rosy as you make it out to be.
You've probably never even seen a stage."
"You're right― In No. 6, students weren't allowed to
watch plays."
 "I would've thought so. Especially for top-rankers like
you, Mr. Elite. Everything you watched or read would be
strictly limited― though you probably never even realized
it was being withheld from you."
"No. 6?"
Rikiga stopped mid-gesture as he was bringing a
cigarette to his lips. "Hey, wait a minute. Are you saying
this wig-boy is from No. 6? You gotta be kidding me."
"This is no joke, old man. And he isn't wearing a wig."
"Then is it some kind of new hat? Is that what's popular
in fashion these days?"
"No, it's my real hair," Shion answered. "Just― a lot of
things have happened due to― uh, issues."
"Oh?" Rikiga said. "There's nothing I love more than
issues. If you've really tumbled out of No. 6, you must
have issues like no other. I want to hear your story. And
the reason behind that hair."
Nezumi hoisted himself up on the desk, and let his legs
dangle.
"Does it smell, old man?"
"What?"
"Your nose twitched. Did you sniff out an interesting
scoop, or what?"
Rikiga clapped a hand to his nose. Nezumi continued
laughing softly.
 "It's the same nose wild dogs make when they smell
food. It twitched, then your nostrils flared."
Rikiga's brow furrowed, and an expression of clear
distaste spread over his features.
"I've mentioned this before, Eve. I think I've had
misconceptions about you. I thought you'd be more gentle
and refined. I would never have imagined such a rude and
brash kid. I'm disappointed, frankly."
"I thought you were my fan?"
"You can count me out from now on. Good god, I don't
know what you enjoy so much about taunting adults like
this."
"Karan," Nezumi spoke quietly. Rikiga froze. "Do you
know a woman that goes by that name?"
Rikiga's body, beginning to show the signs of
middle-aged weight gain, teetered dangerously. His throat
contracted as he swallowed.
"You know Karan...? Are you acquaintances with her?"
"She's my mother."
Rikiga appeared not to understand Shion's words
immediately. He sucked in a deep breath.
"Mother?"
"I'm― oh, my name is Shion. I'm Karan's son."
"Son... Karan's son, huh... who's the father?"
"I couldn't say."
 "You couldn't― don't you know who he is? Is he
deceased?"
"No― I've heard from my mother that they separated
shortly after I was born. It's just been the two of us all my
life. I've never met my father."
Nezumi continued to laugh.
"Are you telling me there's a possibility he might be
your son?"
"No― that can't be― wait a minute, er, what was your
name again?"
"Shion."
"Shion― aster, huh. Karan did like that flower a lot.
Uh― Shion, will you hold on for a minute? I'll get you a
drink― ah, I mean, a non-alcoholic one, of course... what
would you like? I have everything. Oh yes, here― let's
move somewhere more comfortable where we can talk."
Rikiga knocked the wall behind the sofa, and pressed
his right hand on it. The wall soundlessly slid to the side.
"Wow," Nezumi whistled. "Fingerprint recognition?
You've got fancy gimmicks on this place. Guess it's not as
shabby as it looks."
Beyond the wall appeared a rather extravagant room.
The floor was lined with a luxurious carpet, and there
were leather chairs, a leather sofa, and a table. There
was a fire burning in the fireplace set into the wall.
 "Come in, this way. I'll pour some coffee. Are you
hungry? I have some excellent pie."
Shion had forgotten that he was starving. His empty
stomach ached.
"What kind of pie?" Nezumi said. "I prefer meat."
"You can shut up." Rikiga waved his hand irritably at
Nezumi.
"You're horrible, treating us so differently like that."
Rikiga ignored him and disappeared into a small
adjacent room. The aroma of coffee soon wafted over to
them.
"Coffee and pie, huh. I don't believe it." Shion had
barely tasted any such savoury foods since escaping from
No. 6. Nezumi let his gaze wander about the room.
"You're right. They're luxury items, for sure. And seeing
how this room is outfitted... it looks like Inukashi's
information was spot-on after all."
"If that's the case..." Shion said pensively. "No, that
can't be..."
"What can't be?"
"Mother once told me that my father was fast and
loose with money and women, and was one step away
from becoming an alcoholic, a hopeless―"
"Good-for-nothing?"
 "Yeah. A hopeless good-for-nothing... but she said he
was really gentle, honest and straightforward."
"What's that supposed to mean? Is your Mama still
attached to him?"
"I have no idea... but it fits his image, right?"
Nezumi threw a glance at the entrance to the small
room, and pulled a face.
"I dunno the part about gentle, honest and
straightforward, but he sure is fast and loose with women,
and halfway there to being an alcoholic. Now that you
mention it, I guess you guys look kind of similar around the
eyes. Well, we don't have DNA testing here, so there
would be no way to know for sure. ―Shion, you don't look
too well."
"Ah, no... I'm probably just hungry..."
"Don't worry. Just the idea of that being my father
would make me feel ill too. I'd probably break out into a
fever."
"You've got a fever? Are you alright?" Rikiga set a tray
down on the table. On it was coffee, pie, and a glass of
whisky. Shion's mouth watered.
"Karan liked pie, too," Rikiga said reflectively. "She
also liked bread and cakes."
"She still loves them," Shion replied. "She bakes bread
for a living now."
"Baking, huh... mm-hmm. I see."
 An idea sparked in Shion's mind.
"Do you remember about the cherry cake?"
"Cherry cake? I'm not too sure... what, do you want to
eat cherry cake?"
"No, it's just... my mother told me once that the day I
was born, my father came home with three boxes, each
with a whole cherry cake inside. And the two of them ate
it together."
Rikiga lifted the glass of amber liquid and squinted.
"Is that so... one of Karan's fond memories, huh? But
unfortunately I have no recollection of that. I've never
bought cherry cake or eaten it with Karan. I was never
even a resident of No. 6. Shion, I'm not your father."
Nezumi swallowed his mouthful of pie and nudged
Shion's shoulder.
"So he says. What a relief, huh, Shion?"
"What's that supposed to mean, Eve?"
"It means exactly what it means."
Shion fished out Karan's memo.

"We relied on this memo to get us here."

Rikiga stared intently at Karan's scribbled writing.
Shion spoke.
 "Shortly after I... escaped from No. 6, my mother sent
this to me. She must have thought you were still here. I'm
just wondering how you―"
'Know my mother' was what Shion planned to say
afterwards, but his words caught in his throat. A tear had
spilled from Rikiga's eye.
"Karan... she hadn't forgotten about me... she
remembered me... her writing... still the same as I
remember it..."
His bowed head and broad shoulders were trembling
slightly. Nezumi nudged Shion on the shoulder again.
"Egh, will you look at that. This old man is a teary
drunk. At this age too― talk about embarrassing, hah."
"Shut up. What's wrong with getting a little teary?
You're always wailing and yelling on the stage."
"That's all acting. What, are you saying yours is an act
too, old man?"
Rikiga glared at Nezumi with watery eyes, and raise
himself heavily. He extracted a folder from the back of a
sturdy bookshelf. He drew a single photo from it and
placed it in front of Shion.
"This is Karan and I."
An image of his mother was smiling back at him,
young, beautiful and wearing a sleeveless one-piece dress.
Beside her stood Rikiga, much thinner and
well-proportioned than now, even with a hint of
boyishness in his features.
"It was taken decades ago, not long after we met each
other. Karan was still a student, and she was interested in
the columns I wrote, and came to visit me. The third floor
of the company building was my workplace, and when I'd
just gotten back from an interview, she was sitting there.
It was a rainy day, and thundering outside, but she came
all the way out here to see me..."
Rikiga sniffled. Shion and Nezumi looked at each
other. Nezumi gave a long, exaggerated sigh.
"You used to be a reporter, didn't you, old man? Can
you summarize it a little more efficiently? So basically
what you're saying is that you and Shion's Mama first met
on the third floor of the Latch Bill company building, am I
right?"
"That's right. We got along great... I enjoyed spending
time with Karan. I think it must've been love. Back in
those days, No. 6 wasn't as closed off as it is now. People
were more or less free to come and go. I'd just started my
career as a journalist, and one of the things I was sniffing
out was about No. 6."
"Sniffing out? So you had some suspicions about that
city, huh, old man? You must've had a decent nose back
then. Too bad it's useless now."
Rikiga fixed Nezumi with a glare again, and contorted
his face in an odd half-grimace.
 "Eve, I wasn't kidding when I said I was your fan. When
I first went to see you, you were standing centre-stage
and reciting a poem. Arthur Rimbaud, I think it was... I
was captivated by your appearance, and your voice."
Nezumi licked the grease from the pie off his fingers,
and crossed his legs.
"But, in truth, I have wept too much! Dawns are
heartbreaking
Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.
Acrid love has swollen me with intoxicating torpor
O let my keel burst! O let me go into the sea! [1]

―Shion, know what this is?"

"A stanza from 'The Drunken Boat', if I'm not
mistaken."
Nezumi chuckled. "Racing up that learning curve,
aren't you? I can treat you to a little more fan service if
you want, old man. How about it?"
"No thanks. But let me say this, you were brilliant on
that stage. I almost can't believe that it was the same
person as this insolent brat that's in front of me. So do me
a favour and stop talking."
"Don't be mad," Nezumi drawled. He uncrossed his
legs, and his face turned serious. Expression vanished from
his voice. It became flat and heavy. It was a voice that
was startlingly different from moments before.
 "In the beginning, six cities were founded, including
No. 6, as model cities for the future. They were models
created in the search for a way humankind could live
comfortably in a land that was reduced to rubble, riddled
with abnormal weather patterns mostly due to the carbon
dioxide from massive consumption of fossil fuels during
the wars. That was what it was, at first. The plan was that
each city would take part in the research and
development of things like safe energy that could be
mass-produced to replace fossil fuels and nuclear power,
and scientific technology that ranged from the nanometre
to cosmic scales, in a way that was appropriate for the
conditions of each city. This was in hopes that some day,
everyone on this earth would be free of any threat to their
life― whether it be war, catastrophe, or plague― and this
first step toward a world of threat-free life, the
cornerstone of hope, was No. 6. In all respects, this was
the objective at first. Wasn't it, old man?"
Rikiga drained the rest of his glass of whisky in one
gulp. He coughed lightly.
"So I guess classics weren't the only thing you could
recite off by heart, Eve. Your manager told me he didn't
know your real name, age, or where you were born. He
said you were a wanderer that just appeared out of
nowhere. But I'm not buying it― you're not just any
travelling entertainer. What's your real identity?"
"Nose around my business afterwards. So during the
time this picture was taken, No. 6 was still seen as the
hope for all humankind, right? But you had doubts. A fine
nose you must've had to smell something fishy there."
"When I became a journalist, No. 6 was already in the
process of change," Rikiga said. "Research organizations
were gathering all sorts of skilled labour, and their
departments flourished; but on the other hand, release of
information and free speech were becoming more and
more restricted. I thought, is this really going to become a
utopian city? I had my doubts. You and your smart mouth
are right. Back then, I had a nose that could sniff out
something that I couldn't see. While I was scrambling
around, the barriers spread further and grew more secure,
and going to and fro from outside parts became much
more difficult. Soon, you couldn't even enter or exit
without a permit from the city. It happened in no time.
Since I was a journalist, they made sure I could never set
foot in that place again. They stamped out the freedom of
the press, just like that. Of course, that meant I couldn't
see Karan anymore either. To tell you the truth, I think
that hit me harder than not being able to do my work.
A decade and some later... you get what you're seeing
now. The surroundings of No. 6 became places whose sole
purpose was to service the one, central city. Agricultural
lands, cattle pastures, recreational forest― and this is
their garbage can. Destitution, dispute, disease, violence―
the rubbish that No. 6 spits out all ends up here. You two
probably don't know this, but this town used to be a small,
but much more decent place than it is now. At least, not a
place that's been classified and shelved away with an
impersonal label like the West Block. But they've turned
this place into a garbage can. What's this hope they're
speaking of now? Some Holy City this is― they're doing the
name a disgrace. It's more like a devil that releases toxins
everywhere it goes."
"I guess humans and cities are similar, then," Nezumi
remarked. "In time they forget the ambitions they set out
with, and corrupt themselves to no end."
Nezumi drained the rest of his coffee, and threw a
glance at the man who had just finished talking.
"What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying that
I've been corrupted?"
"Can you say that you aren't?"
Shion let his eyes flit to Nezumi's profile. He felt that
Nezumi was provoking Rikiga. Rikiga responded to that
provocation. No― maybe he had just been lead into the
skilful trap.
"You're criticizing me about how I've become a drunk,
huh? How I've been reduced to making magazines full of
naked pictures, drinking as much booze as I could bathe
in, and to top it off, nearly getting killed by a woman."
"You sound bitter, old man. But using pretty words
instead isn't gonna help you survive here."
"Everyone knows that."
"What I'm curious about is how decked-out this room
is. A warm room, and good food. You can't get those things
easily. I can't see all your income for this coming from
those porno mags. Which means― you've got ahold of
someone's purse strings. Am I right?"
Nezumi smiled. It was a haughty, but elegant smile,
like of one passing divine judgment.
"I heard high officials from No. 6 come here secretly
ever so often."
Rikiga's mouth made a chewing motion.
"Old man, I heard you take orders from these men and
bring them the kind of women they want, like the
middleman in a deal. I guess your connections from your
journalist days ended up being pretty useful. And the
enormous payment you get from these guys pays for this
luxurious lifestyle. You suck up to the guys who are pretty
much at the core of the city that you just called the Devil,
and leech off the good parts while you live off women who
have no choice but to sell their bodies to avoid cold and
starvation. You don't call that corruption?"
All expression vanished from Rikiga's face. It had no
light or shadow, and looked strangely flat. The flames
from the fireplace were lighting the right half of his face.
"...Where did you hear about that?"
"From a dog."
"Dog?"
"A dog told me he heard you and some man whispering
under the stairs. Afterwards, the man got in his car and
drove right through the special gates of the Access Control
Office, and got into No. 6 without any difficulty. The kind
of people that can go between No. 6 and the West Block
freely are limited. Only High Officials who have a special
identification card with them can. Everyone else would
get destroyed at the gates."
Shion gulped. He felt like he was watching a stage
play. He could read nothing from the man's face, which
was coloured crimson by the flames. Suddenly, its mouth
twisted.
"How would you like to join, then?"
"Join?"
"No. 6 is a boring place. You're not allowed to have a
disorderly lifestyle. Beggars and prostitutes aren't allowed
to exist. Everyone's listless. So they come here to stretch
their wings. They come, laugh at the women who sell
themselves for whatever meagre cash that'll take them.
The men reconfirm that they're a specially privileged
class, and take joy in that again. After their short moment
of fun, they go back to their boring home. Those kind of
people are the ones that keep coming back."
"So business is booming, huh? That's good for you."
"Thankfully, yes. But their demands seem to have no
end. They give me different orders, every time. First they
want a dark-skinned girl, next they want a young girl with
a tattoo all down her back. It gets stressful sometimes."
 Shion had his head bowed. It pained him to listen to
Rikiga talking. No. 6 was a beautiful city on its surface.
Now he was hesitant whether to call that real beauty, but
nevertheless, it was orderly. Its nature and buildings
maintained a delicate balance, neither one over-asserting
itself, and all its people were gentle and polite. Behind all
of that was the truth that he was hearing now. His eyes
met with Karan's in the photograph.
Mom, the place where we lived, the place where you
still live now, was just a monster wearing a mask of
beauty. Mom....
"And you're inviting me to join you in head-hunting for
women?"
It was Nezumi's dry, brittle voice. Rikiga laughed. It
was vulgar and insulting to the ears.
"Never. That would be a waste of good labour that
could be put to better use. I've actually been thinking
about it ever since I first saw you on that stage. You could
rake in as much money as you want. It should be a piece
of cake for you to sweet-talk those bored stiffs into
showering you with money. What do you think? It'll pay
way more than that shabby hut of a playhouse."
"Are you telling me to take customers? Has the alcohol
gotten to your brain, old man?"
Rikiga sneered. "Don't try to play cool with me. God
knows where you've come from and where you've been― a
wandering actor like you has probably had experience with
it anyway. It's no use pretending you're an innocent―"
 "Shut up!"
It was Shion who had yelled. He whipped the coffee
cup and its contents at Rikiga. He leapt over the table,
grabbed him by the shirt, which was soaked through, and
leaned in with all his weight. Rikiga gave a short cry as he
fell to the floor.
"That's enough!" Shion yelled angrily. "How dare you
say something so degrading! Apologize― apologize to him!"
Shion straddled Rikiga and shook him roughly. The
back of Rikiga's head banged against the floor repeatedly.
Still holding him by the collar, Shion closed his hands
around Rikiga's throat.
"Can't― breathe―" Rikiga gasped. "Shion, please― I
really can't―I'll apologize... so stop―"
"Shut up! You shameless― shame on you―"
A pair of hands slid under his armpits, and he was
dragged backwards.
"Shion, that's good enough. Any more, and the old
man's gonna pass out."
Rikiga curled up and coughed.
"That was a surprise," Nezumi murmured, still holding
Shion from behind. He really sounded stunned. "I never
imagined you'd resort to violence. I guess even you let the
blood get to your head sometimes, huh. Enough to go
attacking people like that."
 "...First time in my life..." said Shion, slightly out of
breath.
"I can tell. Your heart is going a mile a minute."
Shion turned and impatiently brushed Nezumi's hand
away.
"Why aren't you angry?"
"Angry? If I let a joke like that get to me every time,
I'd be going mad all year round. I'm used to it. It's no big
deal."
"Idiot!"
"Idiot? Shion, what're you getting all worked up for?"
"You're an idiot. What he said wasn't a joke. Don't say
you've gotten used to it. Don't―"
His eyes burned. A tear spilled before he could screw
his eyes shut.
"Shion― come on, don't cry. Why would you... ―I can't
believe you're crying," Nezumi said exasperatedly.
"He... insulted you."
"Huh?"
"He insulted you. He said horrible things― lumped you
in with the filthy officials of No. 6. But you say it's no big
deal. You weren't even angry about it... and that made me
feel even more helpless and angry― so angry... I don't
even know what to do anymore..."
 Nezumi opened his mouth to say something, then
closed it again. He yanked the tablecloth and thrust the
end of it toward Shion.
"This is all I've got, but you can wipe your face on it."
"Okay."
"Shion, the one who got insulted was me, and not you.
Don't cry for other people. Don't get into fights for other
people. Fight and cry only for yourself."
"I don't understand what you're saying."
"I guess you wouldn't― sometimes it's like we speak
different languages. Look, there's snot coming out of your
nose. Wipe it, come on."
"Mm-hmm."
"I always find it impossible to understand you. Even if
we spent our whole lives together, I probably still wouldn't
understand you. You're right in front of me, but at the
same time, it's like you're far away. That's probably why―"
Rikiga rose to his feet behind Shion.
"I'm sorry for interrupting your moment, but I want to
let you know that that tablecloth is silk. I had a hard time
coming across that thing, so I'd appreciate if you didn't
wipe your nose on it."
He peered into Shion's face.
"Your angry face looked just like Karan's. I felt like I
was being scolded by Karan herself. Though with her, I've
never been yelled at that violently."
 Then he turned to Nezumi, and lowered his head in
apology.
"I'm sorry. I went too far. I deserved to be punched.
Looks like my morals have rotted right through."
"They haven't rotted. They're just pickled in alcohol,
that's all."
Nezumi gave Shion a light push on the back.
"I think we can call it a day. Let's go home."
"Sure. But I have to clean up first."
Nezumi laughed.
"You really are a well-behaved little boy, aren't you?"
"Make fun of me all you want, but I'm still going to
clean up."
Shion bent to retrieve the coffee cup. Nezumi also
reached for the folders and plates scattered on the floor.
His body stiffened. His breath was caught in his throat,
and he was frozen.
"Nezumi, what's wrong?"
"This―"
Nezumi's fingertips were trembling slightly as they
held a single photograph. It had probably fallen out of one
of the folders. Rikiga narrowed his eyes.
"What's the matter? Oh, that."
 There were several men and women in the picture,
with Karan at the centre.
"It's a photo from the last time I entered No. 6. It's a
picture of Karan and her friends."
"This man..."
Nezumi pointed at the tall man standing at Karan's
side.
"That guy, huh," said Rikiga absentmindedly. "Who was
he again? I think he said he was in an institution for
biological research― looks like a bright fellow, doesn't he?
I can't remember much about him, though. He didn't really
stand out. Eve, you know this guy?"
"I might."
"How do you know him?"
Nezumi drew a breath, and answered quietly.
"He's my godfather[2]."

-- END OF CHAPTER 3 --
***

CHAPTER 4
The Angel of the Netherworld

I love him, love him. He's a millstone round my

neck - he'll take me to the bottom with him. But I
love this millstone of mine - I can't live without it.
 -Chekhov "The Cherry Orchard" Act III[1]

The girl came just as Karan was about to close the

blinds of the store.
"Ma'am, are there any muffins left?" She was an
adorable child with a round face, probably not yet ten.
"We're all out of cheese, but if you like raisin muffins,
we've got one of those left."
"I'll have it, please."
"Alright, Lili. Just a second." Karan picked the leftover
muffin off the tray, and put it in a bag with two
doughnuts.
"The doughnuts are a little something extra."
"Thank you, Ma'am." Lili dropped a few copper coins
into Karan's hand. She had probably held them tightly in
her hand her whole way here, for although no blood
coursed through the coins, they held the warmth of a
human body.
Lili peeked inside the bag, and her face glowed as she
observed aloud that there were two whole doughnuts
inside.
"You're one of my regular customers after all, Lili.
Next time, I'll bake some extra cheese muffins for you."
"Ma'am, you won't quit running this store, will you?" Lili
raised her face from the bag, and questioned Karan with a
sombre expression.
 "I would never. Why would you think so?"
"Mama said that you might close your store. But I'm
glad you're not." A relieved grin spread across her round
face. Karan squatted down and wrapped her arms around
the girl's small frame.
"Thank you for worrying about me, Lili."
Her soft body, her warm presence― she was so small,
yet she provided Karan with definite encouragement.
"Mama and Papa were both worried," Lili said. "They
were saying, 'what if we can't eat the bread or cakes from
your bakery again?'. Because you know, the cake shop in
front of the station is bad-tasting, and expensive, and
mean," she said huffily.
"Are they?"
"Yeah. Because the other day, there was a huge white
cake on display, and it was like a toy castle. And me and
Ei― oh, do you know who Ei is?"
"No, I don't."
"He's my friend. He's really good at blowing bubbles.
So Ei and me were looking at it together, because it was so
pretty."
"So you two were looking into the shop window?"
"Yeah. And the old man in the store started yelling at
us. He said, don't touch the glass with your dirty hands.
We were just looking. We weren't even touching the glass,"
Lili said indignantly.
 "That's awful."
"So Ei yelled at him back, and said 'you stupid stingy
old man!' and so I yelled at him too, and said 'you stupid
bald old man!'. And then we both ran away."
Karan found herself bursting into laughter. It had been
a while since she had laughed out loud. She kissed Lili on
the cheek.
"I can't make anything as big as a castle, but for your
birthday, Lili, I'll bake a nice, all-white cake for you."
"Really?"
"Really. Make sure you share with Ei, too."
"Thank you, Ma'am," said Lili happily. "I like cherry
cake."
Cherry cake― Shion had liked it too.
Lili waved her hand, and walked out of the store.
Karan watched her retreating back until it melted into the
dusk, then lowered the blinds. She sank into a chair.
After Shion had left her, she found it hard to bear
when evening set in each day. Evening trapped her in the
deep disappointment that another day had passed without
Shion coming home. The feeling turned into heavy
exhaustion that made it feel troublesome to lift a single
finger.
"Shion..."
At times a murmur, at times unvoiced; at times as if in
conversation, at times coming close to screaming― she
wondered how many times she called her son's name each
day.
When she heard that the Security Bureau had taken
Shion into custody on charges of civil disturbance and
murder, she thought she would go insane.
"Please be aware that you will likely never meet with
the suspect again."
The night that she had been given the news by a
Security Bureau official, Karan had a premonition that her
son would die. She knew more certainly than anyone that
Shion would never take part in a murder. But a mother's
desperate feelings would never get across to the Bureau―
she knew that well too. In No. 6, where the crime rate
was almost zero percent, there was no judicial system.
Merely being arrested and taken into custody by the
Security Bureau confirmed the suspect's guilty status.
Pleading guilty or not guilty was not allowed, nor was
raising a formal objection.
He has already been impounded into the Correctional
Facility. Soon, as a first-class VC he will be sentenced for
life; or under special law, be sentenced to death penalty.
The Security Bureau official's words were neither
exaggerated nor twisted in any way― they were the bare
truth. They had always been. The next time this uniform
would appear at her door would be after the sentence had
been handed down to her son. At this moment, Karan
experienced for herself what despair physically felt like.
All sounds disappeared from around her, and all colours
faded. She couldn't smell or feel anything. Darkness was
the only thing she could see before her. It was an
inky-black darkness that would never see the light of
dawn. Was this bottomlessness what people called
despair―?
I've lost everything.
Suddenly, a certain man's face crossed her mind. If I
beg him for help, could something be done? But the crack
of light that had shone into her heart soon flickered and
vanished. No― there's no time. She didn't even know
where that man was right now. She had no time to search
him out and beg for her son's life.
Suddenly overcome with nausea, Karan vomited all the
contents of her stomach. She broke out into a sweat. She
half-crawled to the storage room, and collapsed on Shion's
bed. Most of Shion's belongings had been confiscated as
evidence by the Security Bureau. I can just die too, in a
corner of this storage room. I'll close my eyes, and follow
after him.
Rather than live this brutal life, I can choose the
peace of death that'll come after short suffering. I'm not
strong enough to go on living alone in this darkness.
"Cheep-cheep!"
She thought she heard something squeak at her ear as
she lay there. It was probably just her imagination. It
might not be my imagination. But it doesn't matter, I'm
already....
 Something bit her earlobe. A dull pain raced through
it. She lifted her upper body. A small mouse scurried away
into a corner of the storage room.
―What was a mouse doing here?
She swallowed. She touched her earlobe. A little blood
came off on her finger. Lost Town may be in the older
parts of town, but it was still rare for animals, excluding
pets, to be running around. Even more so for mice―
"Nezumi." Her heart thumped loudly.
Nezumi. Hadn't Shion murmured that word more than
once? While he was drinking cocoa; while he gazed at the
trees swaying in the wind; while he looked up at the
evening sky, he had murmured that word. Ever since that
day, when they had been evicted from Chronos and moved
to Lost Town because of that incident― it was the day that
Shion had undergone an investigation and received a stern
warning for guarding a VC, regarded as a violent criminal
in No. 6. Concealing and aiding in the escape of a VC
normally classified as a serious crime, but with regards to
his young age of twelve and his emotional state, he had
been let off with only the removal of his special
privileges.
Karan, for some reason, didn't feel much of an
attachment to Chronos, nor did she find her life in Lost
Town harsh. Though others may have reprimanded Shion's
actions for lacking common sense, she was able to believe
that there was something in Shion's feelings and beliefs
that lead him to do what he did. Although the city gave
him preferred treatment as a gifted child because of his
level of intellect, perhaps she had begun to realize
somewhere inside that her son would take emotion over
knowledge, and take a future that he could grasp of his
own free will over a future that was already promised to
him. That was why she chose not to question him much
about that incident. But she had asked him once about
Nezumi.
"So what's this Nezumi? Who is he?"
"Huh?"
"It's someone's name, isn't it?" She had thought so
because of the tender way her son said the word.
Nostalgically, lovingly, at times strained― it even carried a
tone of longing. He would definitely not use that tone of
voice to call a regular mouse or rat.
"Did you get your heart broken by that person?"
"Never. What're you saying, Mom?"
"Well, it sounded like that."
"No, it's not like that. You've got it all wrong."
It was then that Shion would become unusually
agitated, blush crimson, and do things like drop his spoon.
Yes, she remembered it now. Nezumi...
She stood up. Her heartbeat returned to normal, and
her body felt lighter. Hope― though she didn't know why―
flickered inside her. She could breathe, and the willpower
to move on revived within her again.
 A small mouse was curled up next to a box of flour. It
made eye contact with Karan, and swung its face around
in a wide circle. It spat a capsule out of its mouth. Then it
disappeared into the back of the storage room. There was
a memo inside the capsule.

The light that flickered in her became a roaring flame.

She pressed a hand firmly to her mouth. She felt if she
didn't, she would cry out in joy.
He's alive. My child is alive. I'll be able to see him
again.
Karan breathed in, and furtively looked about her.
If the memo was true, and Shion had escaped alive to
the West Block, then this house was probably under heavy
surveillance by the Bureau. Pinhole cameras. Audio
tapping. Wireless signal tapping. She would not be able to
act recklessly.
She moved further into the storage room. Beside a
crate of jam, she scribbled on a piece of wrapping paper.
The word 'West Block' brought to mind a hazy figure. What
was his name again? He worked for the Latch Bill... he was
a good person. She remembered that much. Perhaps he
would― but―
She had an endless amount of things she wanted to
tell Shion.
Shion, stay alive. No matter what you do, stay alive.
Your mother is fine. As long as you're alive, I'll be fine. So
please, don't die.
But there was no use in spilling her heart out now.
"Cheep cheep!"
The small mouse appeared at her feet. It twitched its
whiskers as if to urge her on. She couldn't stay in one spot
like this for long― especially because she didn't know
where the surveillance cameras would be located. She
scribbled hastily, rolled the paper up, and tossed it on the
floor. In an instant, the small mouse picked it up in its
mouth and disappeared.
If I follow it, will it lead me to Shion?
It was a fleeting thought. She waved it away, and took
a step forward.
I'll wait here, until my child comes back to me. I'll
stay here, and I'll wait. It's an easy thing to do. He's alive,
and he's in the West Block. If he's alive, I can wait. Hope
hasn't been cut off from me. I haven't lost yet.
I haven't lost? Who am I fighting with, anyway?
 Karan smiled slightly to herself, lifted her face, and
strode out of the storage room.

It had been almost a month since then. Just once, a

small mouse appeared. It was brown, which meant that
Shion was still safe. She felt relieved, but at the same
time, distressed. Next time, a black mouse might appear.
There was nothing ensuring Shion's safety.
She wanted to see him again. Lately, she had been
having frequent dreams. In them, Shion was still young,
and she would became afraid if they weren't clasping
hands with each other. I won't let this hand go. But no
matter how strongly she thought so, the little boy's hand
would always slip from hers as he began running ahead of
her.
"Shion, wait."
Don't go there. It's dangerous over there, there's a
horrible danger―
"Shion!"
She would awake to her own scream. These sort of
mornings had been continuing for some time. She had
often moaned with dizziness, shortness of breath and
headaches. But she still continued to bake, and continued
to open her store for people like Lili.
Even after news of Shion's arrest and imprisonment
had been broadcasted, the attitudes of the people around
her hadn't changed.
 The factory worker who always stopped by on his way
to work to buy raisin bread and a sandwich for lunch― the
college student who came once a week to buy a walnut
cake― the housewife who came every morning to buy a
freshly-baked loaf of bread― all rejoiced that Karan was
still continuing her business.
"Whenever I eat your cakes, Madam, it fills me with a
happy feeling. I don't know why, but it just makes me feel
happy."
"Not being able to eat your raisin bread'll take all the
fun outta my day. It's one of the things I look forward to,
so don't ya take it away from me, Karan-san."
"You're a baker, aren't you? It's your job to bake, no
matter what happens. We're all waiting, you know. Every
morning, we all wait for the aroma of baking bread to
waft into the streets."
These, and so many other countless words had
supported her. Although they were still far from strong,
the words of others made her soul hold ground as it
threatened to collapse from the distress of not being able
to confirm her son's well-being.
She had borrowed their shoulders to stand, clench her
teeth, and continue to bake bread and cakes.
But evenings were still unbearable. If the people that
passed her storefront on their way home were youths, it
was unbearable all the more. It made her want to weep
her heart out.
 She sank into a chair, and covered her face with her
hands.
"Cheep-cheep!"
She lifted her face. Under the glass display case, a
small mouse was twitching the tip of its nose. It was
brown.
"You came."
The mouse looked around, then spat a capsule out of
its mouth. She instinctively knew what would be inside the
transparent capsule case.

The writing was slightly slanted, and distinctive in

style. It was none other than Shion's hand.
Mom. The words became his voice as it echoed in her
ears. Right then, at this moment, her son was living. He
was alive as he wrote these words to his mother. He had
written on this tiny piece of paper, a message just several
words long. But it was enough to make Karan cry. She
couldn't stop the tears that streamed down her face. She
traced the words over and over again with her fingers.
Shion was probably in a dire situation. He may well be
suffering in uncertainty. But he was not in utter dejection.
His cramped but energetic handwriting expressed that.
Mom, I'm alright. I'm not unhappy. I really haven't
despaired.
 Karan wiped her tears on her apron. She vowed them
to be her last. The next time she would cry would be when
she was holding Shion again in her arms. Until that day,
she would weep no more. Despair no more. I'll bake bread
every day, sell it, manage my money, clean my shop, put
out some flowers, and go on living. I'm going to do my
job.
"Starting tomorrow, I'll put out a few more kinds of
muffins. I know, I'll make it a Kids' Special day."
Karan nodded at her own words, and reached into the
glass case to take out a round savoury roll. The bread,
which was sprinkled with powdered cheese, was still
fragrant and tasty even after it had gotten cold. With its
affordable price to boot, it was a popular choice at her
bakery. This one was the last of the batch that she had
baked today.
"Thank you. Thank you so much, Mr. Mouse." She broke
off a piece and tossed it in front of the little mouse. The
dark brown mouse stared warily at the bread for a little
while, sniffed it, and began to nibble at it cautiously.
"Is Nezumi your master? Will you tell him that I'm very,
very grateful? And please tell him to come by one day to
have a bite to eat. I'll treat him to as much bread as he
can eat. And plenty of bread for you too, of course."
There was knocking at the door. It wasn't
rough-sounding; on the contrary, it was quiet and almost
hesitant. But Karan's heart shrank in fear.
 Oh no. There was the possibility that this house was
now a part of the Bureau's surveillance net. She had been
so preoccupied with Shion's note that she had completely
forgotten.
Is it the Security Bureau? Have they come to collect
this letter―?
There was no complete security system here like in
Chronos. There was no security alarm or camera, nor an
auto-lock with a built-in recognition sensor. There was
only a door paned with thin glass, blinds that covered
them, and an outdated manual lock. One powerful man
would be able to force his way in easily.
Karan crumpled the note into a ball in her hand. If
worse came to worst, she was prepared to swallow it
whole. The knocking still continued. She stood up slowly.
She clenched her hand into a tight fist.
"Excuse me." It was a young woman's voice. "Excuse
me... is anyone home―?"
The voice trailed off feebly. For an instant, the face of
the college student who liked walnut cakes rose into her
mind. But it wasn't her. Karan pressed the button to open
the blinds.
Beyond the glass panes of the door stood a slender
girl. She was wearing a thigh-length grey coat that seemed
to melt into the dusk. Karan remembered the face that
looked up and smiled at her.
 "Why, it's Safu." Karan hastily opened the door. The girl
stepped into the store along with the evening breeze, and
commented on the tasty aroma. Then she bowed her
head.
"Madam, it's been a long time."
"It has. How many years has it been now? You've grown
so beautiful. I was so surprised."
"I did used to be mistaken for a boy a lot," Safu
smiled, dimples showing in both her cheeks. Her smile was
still the same as before. Like Shion, she had placed in the
top rank for her intelligence in the city's Children's
Examinations. She had been studying with him as a
classmate in the Gifted class until the age of twelve.
Karan remembered hearing that Safu had lost her parents
at a young age, and was living with her grandmother.
After Karan and Shion had been banished from
Chronos, Safu was the one classmate that continued to
treat Shion as she had before. She had also come to this
store once. That time, her face had still harboured some
of its girlish innocence.
But the Safu now, who had unwound her light pink
scarf, had silky skin and a gentle mouth. She showed hints
of the beautiful woman she would eventually grow into.
"But hadn't you gone away on exchange to another
city? I remember hearing something like that from Shion,"
Karan said.
 "I've come back. My grandmother passed away. I
received word not long after I arrived there, so I packed
up and came right back."
"Your grandmother? Oh, dear..."
This girl has lost the last of her blood relatives.
"Safu... I don't know what to say. My heart goes out to
you."
This girl had also experienced the same despair. She
had experienced the loneliness of standing by herself in
neverending darkness. And she was so young.
"Is there anything I can do? Safu, is there any way I can
help?"
"There is." Safu stood in front of Karan, and looked her
straight in the eyes. She was not wrought with grief. She
wasn't anguished, or spent in exhaustion. She had a
resilient and defiant gaze. The kind of eyes that one could
only have in her girlhood.
"I came here because I have a favour to ask you,
Madam."
"What is it?"
"Please tell me where Shion is."
Karan drew a breath, and gazed back into Safu's eyes.
"Please, tell me," Safu persisted. "He's alive, isn't he?
He's not incarcerated in the Correctional Facility. He's
alive― where is he?"
 Her tone of voice was anxious for an answer. Karan
clenched her fist harder around the small scrap of
crumpled paper.
"Safu, you know about Shion, then?"
"I only know what's been broadcasted by the Bureau.
Which means I don't know anything. They're all lies, aren't
they?"
"Safu."
"What they said about Shion planning indiscriminate
murder from twisted hatred― that's a huge lie. Shion
wasn't twisted, and he didn't harbour any grudges toward
anyone."
Karan tugged the girl by her hand and led her into the
storage room.
"It looks like this room doesn't have any surveillance
cameras or recording devices. Though I'm not sure how
safe it is―"
Safu's eyes sparkled.
"If you're being spied on, that means Shion hasn't been
captured, right? He's escaped somewhere, hasn't he? He's
been able to escape safely, and he's still out there alive―
Madam, you're sure of it, aren't you?"
"Why would you say that?"
"Because you're so calm about it... Just one look at
you, and I could tell. You looked thin and worn, but you
hadn't given up completely. It wasn't the face of a mother
who's lost her son."
"I'm blown away, Safu. You'd make an excellent
detective."
"Madam, Shion's alive, isn't he? He's doing well, right?"
Karan continued to hold Safu's gaze with her lips firmly
shut.
Was there a possibility that Safu had been requested
by the Bureau to come here to seek Shion's whereabouts?
Karan thought for a moment. The answer was no. If the
Bureau really intended to, there was no need to use Safu.
It would be easy enough to extract information from Karan
herself using a confession serum.
Was the Bureau actually pursuing her son in earnest?
The thought suddenly crossed her mind. All this time
she had been too swayed by emotional exhaustion and
confusion to even think about it, but if the Bureau were to
actually pursue him with all their might, a mere young boy
like him would not be difficult to put under arrest. Even if
Shion had thrown his ID card away, tracking satellites
would be able to confirm his location. As long as he didn't
remain eternally underground, it was nearly impossible to
escape the highly-refined tracking satellites.
"Madam."
Safu's hand grasped Karan's arm.
"Shion's outside of No. 6, isn't he?"
 "Yes."
"I knew it... but it's only natural, isn't it? Within the
city, surveillance would be in effect everywhere. It would
be impossible to hide..."
"Safu, what's the image resolution of tracking
satellites nowadays?"
"The newest ones would be under fifty centimetres. I
heard it's possible to zoom in now by sending commands
from the ground. Which means, it's possible to get an
image of a person on ground-level with clarity."
The shrewd girl had guessed Karan's next thought. Safu
swallowed, and continued talking.
"If they input Shion's data into the system, the
satellites would start tracking him automatically. If he's
above ground, it would be impossible for him not to be
found."
"Then I wonder if he's gone underground. Or―"
Or has his appearance changed greatly from the
recorded data― was that even possible?
"Madam... I think as long as Shion is outside the city,
he'll be safe."
"Safe?" Karan repeated Safu's words in question. She
didn't understand what Safu meant.
"I can't say it very well. It's just a hunch I have... we've
never learned to put things like feelings and hunches into
words. But after spending time outside the city, I've come
to feel something..."
Safu's words became awkward and stumbling. She was
desperately searching for words that described not theory,
but something that resided within herself.
"Ah... I feel like this city is really closed― like it's shut
itself in. Like it's just withdrawn completely into itself,
solved everything within itself... and it's not interested or
intrigued by anything outside of it."
"And you're talking about this city, here."
"Yes. That's how I feel. So if Shion is outside the city, I
figure the Bureau would leave him alone, no matter if he's
the suspect of a serious crime. If he were to come back to
the city, though, they would probably arrest him
immediately."
"That would mean Shion would never be able to come
back, right?"
"As long as the city itself doesn't undergo some kind of
change― I feel like that's how it would continue to be."
"That's such a cruel thing to say, Safu."
Safu shook her head, and grasped Karan's arm again.
"Madam, where is Shion?"
"In the West Block. That's all I know."
"West Block― is that so?" A breath escaped Safu's lips.
For an instant, her gaze wandered in the air. Then she
bowed her head deeply toward Karan.
 "Thank you. I'm glad I was able to see you, Madam."
This time, Karan was the one to grab Safu's arm.
"Wait," she said. "What are you going to do, now that
you've heard Shion's whereabouts?"
"I'm going to see him."

***

Karan was at a loss for words. She couldn't let go of

the arm she was grasping. The slender sixteen-year-old
girl stood silently before her.
"Safu... what on earth are you saying? Do you know
what kind of place the West Block is?"
"I don't. I've only heard that it's a terrifying place. But
I'm still going."
"But― but― you said so yourself just now. It might be
possible to exit the city, but getting back in..."
"It doesn't matter to me," Safu said determinedly.
"Even if I could never come back here again, I wouldn't
regret it. If Shion is in the West Block, that's where I'm
going."
"Safu."
"I want to see him. I want to see Shion." Safu's eyes
welled up with tears. She bit down on her lip.
 She's a strong girl, Karan thought. At this young age,
she's already learned how to stop her tears.
Karan reached out and embraced the girl to her
bosom.
"Thank you, Safu."
"Madam..."
"You know, I always thought I was alone. I thought I
had to carry this burden all by myself... but you were
right there with me. You had a place in your heart for
Shion too― thank you."
"I... I love him," Safu said, her voice trembling. "From
the bottom of my heart, I've always, always, loved only
him."
"Mmhmm," Karan murmured in assent.
"I don't want to lose him. I want to be by his side."
"I know." She stroked Safu's back.
In the distant past, I'd said the same thing once. I'd
met a man I cared about more than anyone else, and I
never wanted to lose him. I wished I could be by his side
forever.
But they had separated. The only thing he left in her
hands was her newborn baby. 'Shion' was a name that the
man had given to his son. It was his last and only gift to
her.
"Women can go on living without a man, you know."
 It had come out as a whisper. Perhaps Safu had not
heard, for she raised her face and blinked at her as if in
question. As she blinked, a single tear spilled over and
rolled down her smooth cheek.
"Safu, can I ask you to believe in him?"
"Huh?"
"Believe in him. He'll come home one day. Somehow, I
just know he will. He's not as weak as he looks."
"I know that, very well."
"So please, wait for him," Karan implored. "Take some
time to see how the situation unfolds. I don't think it
would be good for us to act rashly."
Safu's shoulders raised and dropped as she took a deep
breath.
"Madam, can I ask you one more thing?"
"Sure."
"Who's by his side right now?"
It was an unexpected question. Someone who was with
Shion― unseen, but by his side nonetheless. Who was it?
"Is it Nezumi, I wonder?"
"Nezumi?"
"Yes, Nezumi. That's the only person I can imagine."
"I wonder if he's a very important person to Shion?"
Safu asked.
 "I think so. Maybe even as much as you and I are to
him."
Safu smiled, and announced that she was going to go
home.
"Wait, Safu," Karan said urgently. "Promise me you
won't do anything rash. You'll wait until he comes home,
won't you? Right?"
The girl's smile didn't fade. But the light in her eyes
was defiant, and harboured a clear intention.
"I don't like to wait."
"Safu..."
"I've always been like this. I can't just sit still and do
nothing while I wait. This morning, I went to do all the
paperwork to get my exchange cancelled. I'm free now. So
I'm going to go. I'm going to get to where Shion is, no
matter what it takes."
Karan shook her head. She felt like no matter what
she said, it would be of no use now. But she had to stop
Safu. She couldn't let her make the foolish choice to walk
right into the spider's web.
"Safu, I may be Shion's mother, but I don't know every
single thing about him. There are probably more things I
don't know. But― but you see, I know that surely he
wouldn't want you to put yourself in danger just to see
him. If something happened to you because of that, then
he would suffer for his whole life. This much, I know for
sure. So please..."
 Safu raised her chin. She pursed her lips firmly.
"This has nothing to do with how Shion feels."
"Huh?"
"I'm doing this because I want to. I'm being selfish, I
know. But I can't just sit and wait for Shion in this state. I
want to see him so badly. That's why I'm going. That's all
there is to it... I'm not a mother, Madam― I can't be strong
like you. I can't keep waiting out of faith. I don't want to
regret anything. If― if by some chance, he ends up never
coming back... I'm going to be the one to suffer for my
whole life. I don't want that. I don't want to lose him."
"But Safu..." Karan said the same words again softly, in
her heart.
But Safu, you know, women can go on living without a
man. It'll be painful, and it might feel like your limb has
been torn away, but you'll still be able to live on carrying
that wound. Even with that burden, one day you'll be able
to laugh again. That's why― please, don't put your life on
the line for any man. Please, live for your own sake.
How could she respond to this girl's stubborn and
fiercely devoted feelings? How could she convince her?
Karan awkwardly but desperately struggled to find the
right words. But already, Safu was turning her body away
from her.
"Madam, I'm glad I was able to see you. Good-bye."
No, Safu― never say words of farewell like that.
 "Next time, come by before noon," Karan called out.
She willed her words to reach the back of the figure clad
in grey.
"Before noon?"
"Yes. I bake bread from early morning right up to
before noon. Earlier in the morning, I bake mostly rolls
and loaves, but closer to noon I bake sweet breads and
cakes. I'm going to bake three kinds of muffins. Do come
and have a bite. I have delicious black tea to go with it,
too."
There was a moment of silence between the two.
"I know," Karan continued, "Safu, if you're willing,
would you be able to help me with this shop? I'll teach you
how to bake bread. I've been very lonely all this time. If
you would come and work here, I would be so happy."
She knew she was being foolish. But what else could I
have said? How else could I distract her heart from Shion?
How can I protect her from danger?
"Thank you, Madam. I love muffins. I'll look forward to
the day I can taste them."
The girl once more said her words of farewell, and
stepped out into the nighttime streets. Karan silently
watched her back disappear. Her arms and legs felt heavy.
One sigh after another escaped her lips.
Why were girlhood loves so fluttering, anxious, and
blindly devoted? Girls at this age couldn't even wait
patiently with faith. Their feelings were so turbulent, so
passionate with longing, and so painful.
I'd completely forgotten how it was to feel like that.
Karan sighed again.
It was after she had locked up and was about to turn
off the lights that Karan noticed the baby-pink scarf. The
forgotten scarf. She could almost feel Safu's agitation.
Yes, Safu was still wavering in her decision. If she had
even a little bit of uncertainty, she may be able to stop
her from going. It might not be too late after all.
Karan clutched the scarf in both hands, and opened
the door of her shop.

She was about to exit the alleyway into the main

street when she realized she had forgotten her scarf. It
was a piece that was hand-knitted by her grandmother.
Right now, hand-knitted scarves and sweaters had
come back into fashion because many people found the
woolly texture pleasing on the skin. But back when Safu
had been small, no one wore scarves in No. 6. Most people
wore undergarments made of special fibre under their
clothes, and all parts that touched the skin were kept at a
level temperature. People didn't need to wear scarves, nor
even a thin sweater or gloves.
Safu's grandmother knitted as a hobby, and she was
always knitting sweaters and scarves for her
granddaughter. Safu was often laughed at by classmates
for them. Even though they were in the same Elite
curriculum, the kids would find any small difference and
mock or put others down because of it. The hand-knitted
scarves and sweaters she wore became a target of
ridicule.
"Wow, is that an artifact from the last century?"
"I've only seen that in a museum before."
No one understood what consideration for others was,
or anything about people's souls, or people's dignity. It was
because they had never learned about it. Everyone
thought they were the chosen ones. The chosen ones were
permitted to do anything. People belonged to classes: the
chosen ones, and those who were not. Apart from an
enormous amount of theoretical knowledge, in the
classrooms which were outfitted with state-of-the-art
equipment, that was all they had learned.
But Shion was different. He knew to treat others with
as much respect as he treated himself. He put himself
neither above nor below others. He was an oddity. That
was how Safu had felt about him.
This person is different from the others.
She didn't remember when anymore, but he had once
complimented a black sweater that Safu was wearing. The
sweater had had a reddish-pink trim across the chest and
around the mouth of the sleeves.
"It looks really nice on you."
 Safu had been checking the day's class schedule on the
EL display on her desk. She hesitated a little at being
spoken to so suddenly.
"That sweater looks really nice. I can tell just by
looking at it that it's really warm."
"Th― thank you."
"No worries. But now I've learned something new."
"Huh?"
"Black and pink go pretty well together. I had no idea
they did."
It wasn't anything like a proper conversation. It was
abrupt, and one-sided. But at that moment, in Safu's soul,
the gentle-faced boy had risen and left an imprint.
What a strange person...
He was a strange person. He was different from the
rest. So one day, he'll probably go a different way from
the rest of us too. He'll probably leave, throwing away
without a second thought everything we've clung onto,
everything that we've been taught to prize most
importantly.
She had had the feeling before.
So when Shion had passed the selection examinations
for the High Institute's Gifted Curriculum, only to lose his
privilege shortly afterwards to move away to Lost Town,
Safu wasn't surprised. Her premonition had just come
true. There was nothing to be surprised about. But she
wanted to know why. She wanted to know the meaning
behind the eyes Shion made ever so often.
What are you looking at? Who are you looking for?
Don't let your eyes wander so far away. Look at me.
I'm right in front of you.
They were such simple words, but she could never
bring herself to say them. They were such strong feelings,
but they showed no sign of getting across.
Communications devices were progressing in quality day
by day, and card-type mobile phones, wearable computers
and electronic paper all existed and were used in the real
world― but all of them were useless to her. They served
no function to communicate her soul to the one that stood
beside her. It riddled her with anxiety.
She was frustrated at herself for not knowing any
words of confession, and at Shion for not even trying to
sense her feelings. But even so, she had bared her soul
just before departing on exchange. She was embarrassed
at herself for being so direct, but it was the only way she
could say it.
I want you. I've always wanted you.
Simple and direct words. It was the best confession
she could muster. But it had been brushed away all too
easily.
I always thought of you as a friend.
 What an Oscar-award-winning answer. It was so
ridiculous she had wanted to dissolve into peals of
laughter. So funny, it was almost painful.
You numbskull, idiot, grow up a little, won't you?
She criticized him in her mind. But she had still been
able to tell him what she wanted to say. That was good
enough. Her load was one millstone lighter. In two years,
when I get back from my exchange, I'll start over again.
I'll look at him face-to-face again, when I'll be two years
more mature. Her soul would remain unchanged. She still
ached for him with longing.
But Shion for the most part, had not even been looking
at Safu. His soul had been captured by something else,
and he had forgotten about her. For the first time, she had
seen this calm and serene boy of few words being ruffled
right before her eyes.
Shion's emotions had lost their equilibrium, and he had
been in agitation.
She had tried to follow Shion's gaze, through the
station, through the crowd of people, but she had not
been able to see anything. Whoever it was that she
couldn't see had probably been the person Shion had been
searching for. And right now, that person was probably by
his side. Although she had no evidence, she was certain it
was true. It was no use wondering who that person might
be. He was an unknown persona.
Is it Nezumi, I wonder? That was what Karan had said.
 A mouse?
There was. There had been a mouse. Before they had
parted at the station, a small mouse had climbed up onto
Shion's shoulder.
"Nezumi." She tried saying it out loud. Only the image
of a lab rat came to mind. The wind blew. She felt cold
around the neck. Should I go back to get my scarf? Right
as she was about to change direction, a dark shadow
appeared before her.
"Are you Safu-san?" She was called by her name. A
faint chill ran down her spine. These uniforms― they were
law enforcement officers of the Security Bureau.
Why were Bureau officials―?
"Safu-san, am I right?" One of the men repeated his
question. It was a question he already knew the answer
to.
"Yes."
"May I see your ID card?" After confirming the card that
Safu showed them, the officials looked at each other and
nodded. Their tone of voice was courteous, but were not
friendly in any way. It was mechanical, with no human
warmth. Her chill got worse.
"If you don't mind, we'd like for you to come to the
Security Bureau with us."
"What?"
 By the time she had raised a small cry, she had already
been flanked by officials on both sides and taken by the
arms.
"Please get in the car."
"No, let me go!" She struggled. Their grip didn't
loosen.
"Stop it! What are you taking me for? Tell me why,"
Safu demanded.
"Get the hell in there and you'll find out soon." Their
words became rough. It looked like they intended to
forcibly escort her. Safu let her body relax.
"Alright. Please, just don't use violence on me." She
took a step forward.
"Ah―!"
She pretended to trip, and let her body fall forward.
The men's hands loosened. She rammed herself into the
man to her right. He staggered back a few steps. Safu
swung her bag around, and whipped it at the other man.
She sped through the space between them.
She had to get away. If she got captured, she would
never be able to see Shion again.
What it meant to be forcibly escorted by the Security
Bureau― she knew by instinct, not logic. I'll never be able
to see him again.
 She saw a shadow at the end of the alleyway. It was
too far away to make out clearly, but she could see that it
was holding something light-coloured in its hands.
Her baby-pink scarf.
"Madam."
Her feet stopped.
Madam, no. Don't come this way.
She tried to whirl around, but she was grabbed by the
shoulder. Her wrist was wrenched and twisted behind her
back. A shooting pain. Her mouth was covered as she
opened it to scream.
Stop.
The men didn't speak a single word anymore. Silently,
they proceeded to capture Safu. A feeling of terror raced
through her whole body.
I'm scared. No. Help me. She struggled to get free. She
heard the sound of her coat ripping. A button tore off and
rolled onto the street.
Help me. No―help―
She felt a shock in her neck. Her body went numb, and
she couldn't move as she wanted to.
"No... help me..." She was fading out of consciousness.
The night scene before her blurred.
Shion.
 Before she could murmur the name, Safu was dragged
into the darkness.

Karan saw the shadowy figures tangled in a struggle.

She heard a small cry. She instantly recognized it as Safu's
voice. She hesitated for a moment, then broke into a run.
But her legs didn't move as she willed them to, and she
tripped and fell, and struck her knee hard on the
pavement.
By the time Karan had gotten back up, the men were
dragging Safu's limp body into a car. It was like a silent
shadow play performed on an empty street. But what was
unfolding before her under the evenly-spaced street lamps
was none other than reality. The men were not acting in a
fiction― they were carrying out their assigned mission,
without a single word.
Security Bureau.
Her breath caught in her throat. Curled up on the
pavement, she was unable to move. It was not pain, but
fear, that prevented her feet from stepping forward.
One of the men glanced this way. Or at least she
thought he did. Her body shrank in horror. Karan was
curled up outside of where the light shone, so in this
darkness it would be difficult to see her. But with
night-vision goggles, the time of day was of no concern.
They could see into the darkness as if it were midday.
They could probably see Karan crystal-clear.
She was terrified.
 But the men swiftly got into the car. The black station
wagon silently glided forward, and disappeared from
Karan's sight within seconds. Karan lifted herself up and
clenched the scarf in her hands.
"Safu."
She said her name out loud, and the real terror of it
finally set in. Her hands shook. She staggered home, and
locked the door. The faint smell of bread soothed her a
little.
Safu had been taken away by the Security Bureau. It
had almost been like a kidnapping.
Why? Why did she have to get captured? Is it because
of Shion? If it is, then why is it Safu, and not me? Why on
earth―
She didn't know. She didn't know anything.
Cheep.
A small mouse poked its head out from under the glass
case. It was holding a morsel of cheese bread in its paws.
"Nezumi."
Would Nezumi be able to help her? Would he bring her
salvation? Would he take the hand she extended out to
him?
Toward the small animal with grape-coloured eyes,
Karan extended her palm.

-- END OF CHAPTER 4 --
***

CHAPTER 5
Hidden Danger

The first day or so we all pointed to our

countries. The third or fourth day we were
pointing to our continents. By the fifth day, we
were aware of only one Earth.
- Sultan bin Salman Al-Saud, astronaut

After Shion had finished reading the picture book,

Kalan gave a sigh of satisfaction.
"That was a good story."
Rico blew out of his flared nostrils sullenly. He fiddled
with the newly-changed bandages on his neck and
complained.
"Well, I didn't think it was good. Stories about rabbits
are boring."
"Then what kind of story do you want to hear, Rico?"
Shion asked.
"Ummmm―" Rico paused for a moment of thought.
"Oh, a story about bread. And― and one about soup and
fried sweet potatoes."
"You must be hungry, Rico."
Kalan turned to Shion and nodded.
 "He's hungry all the time. Rico gets more hungry than
anyone else."
"Just a minute, then. I think I've got some soup..." Was
there any soup left for him? A bowlful of soup that could
sate Rico's empty stomach for a short while―
Kalan stood up.
"No, thank you. It's okay. We have to go home now."
She took her little brother by the hand and made for the
door. She stopped, turned, and spoke in a small voice.
"Thank you for reading to us."
"You're very welcome."
"Can we come again tomorrow?"
"Of course."
"Okay." A smile spread across Kalan's face, and she
half-dragged Rico out the door. Nezumi stretched in the
shadow of a pile of a books.
"Stupid as always, aren't you."
"Stupid? Me?"
"They say the biggest idiots are the ones who don't
realize they're idiots. I think there was a proverb like
that." Nezumi stood up, and draped the superfibre cloth
around his neck. "You tried to give a handout to the kids.
You tried to give them leftover soup."
"Is that a stupid thing to do?"
 "Those kids came here to be read to. They didn't come
to beg. If you can ensure that Rico will never starve again,
that would be fine and dandy. But if you give him leftover
soup on a whim one day, what're you gonna do the next
time he starves? You wouldn't be able to take care of him
all the time. If you're going to be irresponsible and
abandon him halfway, it would be better not to give him
anything at all in the first place. Kalan has a better idea
of how things work. That girl is bright and dignified. She
knew to refuse your half-hearted and reckless charity."
Shion sank into a chair. Nezumi's words always
inflicted him with pain. It felt like his skin was being torn
from his very body. He could almost hear the sound of his
flesh being ripped from him. His foolishness, his
arrogance, his heedlessness. His outward vanity stripped
from him, he was left naked: superficial and pretentious―
his real self. Nezumi strode in front of him and continued
to speak while he pulled on a pair of gloves.
"There's a second example of your stupidity. Wanna
hear it?"
"Sure. Tell me."
"You made a promise for tomorrow."
"Is there something wrong with that?"
"There's no guarantee that there's gonna be a
tomorrow."
Shion took a deep breath.
 "So you're saying that I can't be sure that I'll be alive
tomorrow to read a book to those children?"
"Yeah. See, you're starting to pick up on things more
quickly. You're on the Bureau's Wanted list, and you went
wandering around outside yesterday. I wouldn't be
surprised if the tracking satellites have got you already.
Maybe the guys who have nothing better to do over at the
Security Bureau's Law Enforcement division are heading
over here right now. If they are, then you can forget
having a read-aloud tomorrow. At best you'd be in a
solitary cell in the Correctional Facility; at worst, you
won't even be able to speak, because you'll be dead."
Shion was gazing at Nezumi's leather-gloved hands.
Even when he was speaking crudely, his movements were
still graceful. Shion wanted to imitate him if he could.
"What?" Nezumi said. "You're spaced out again."
"Oh.... uh, sorry."
"You really have no sense of danger, do you? I think
even a newborn fawn would be more cautious than you."
"Nezumi."
"I don't want to hear it," he said abruptly. "I'm going to
work."
"Do the city authorities really intend to capture me?"
Nezumi stopped.
"This place is adjacent to No. 6," Shion continued. "If
they really set out to catch me, it wouldn't be hard for
them at all... no, not even just me. You're a VC on the run
too, aren't you? And unlike me, you go walking around
outside all the time. No. 6's tracking satellites are able to
keep detailed surveillance on one location from their
stationary orbit."
"Uh-huh, so?"
"So I'm wondering why. The authorities aren't serious
about trying to catch us. They certainly haven't gotten
desperate about it, to say the least."
Nezumi shrugged his shoulders.
"Shion, in both good and bad ways, the city you were
born in isn't interested in things outside of it. For them,
everything's complete within those walls of special alloy.
The West Block is their garbage can. Here, they throw
away their waste, their pus. If you're pus to them, they
probably think the West Block is an appropriate place for
you. They've squeezed the pus out of their tiny wound,
and thrown it away in the garbage. They're not going to
come back looking for it."
"So I'd be safe as long as I stayed here."
"Who knows? It probably won't go that well, but there's
a chance you will be. ―You said you wanted to go on living
here, didn't you? Maybe your dream will come true."
"Until spring, at least."
He had a moratorium until spring. Once spring came,
and the wasps entered their activity period, what would
happen in the interior of the Holy City? Would the parasite
wasps sweep the city with their dread? He had to do
something before it got warmer, before spring arrived. He
had to come up with a plan before they passed the winter
through.
"The man-eating wasps have finally shown
themselves," said Nezumi airily. "You should just sit back
and watch. It'll be an interesting stage, to see what
happens to No. 6. Our wasp will be the star of the stage. A
tragedy like no other― or a comedy like no other. I wonder
which one it'll be?"
"Mother is still inside that city. I can't stand by and be
a spectator."
"What, you're planning on going home?"
"Once, before spring comes. I'm going to see if I can
make a blood serum by then."
"Using your own blood?"
"Yeah. It would be impossible to make a perfect one,
of course, but it's worth giving it a try."
"Hey, you might be a genius, but what can you do
without any beakers or syringes? You sure can't get them
here."
"I'm going to try asking Rikiga-san. He might be able to
get his hands on at least the bare minimum of equipment
I'll need."
"The man won't do anything unless it's going to put
money in his pocket," Nezumi said flatly. "You might be the
son of a girl he used to love, but try to get him to do free
labour, and he'll turn away as fast as anything."
"You think so?" Shion said dubiously. "―But we'll still
need a serum. Yeah, I'll tell him if it goes well, he could
make some money off of it. I'll convince him someh―"
Nezumi's foot moved. Shion, chair and all, went flying
across the floor. A pile of books collapsed. The mice
darted away.
"What was that for?" He tried to get up. Before Shion
could move, Nezumi's knee was on his chest, and his hand
was holding his shoulder down.
"Shion." Looking down into Shion's face from above as
he lay on his back, Nezumi moved his fingers from Shion's
shoulder to his throat. Through the leather of his gloves,
Shion could feel the sensation of five fingers at his neck.
They tightened their grip slowly.
"Aren't you gonna resist?"
"No. It wouldn't be any use. You'd agree," Shion said
calmly.
"Giving up pretty easily, huh? Don't you care about
your life?"
"Of course I do."
"Or are you thinking that I'd never kill you?"
"Yeah."
 Nezumi smiled. His grey eyes, his thin lips, and
well-shaped nose formed a beautiful but cruel and pitiless
smile.
"Don't think too highly of yourself," he said softly. A
knife appeared in Nezumi's hand as if by magic. "I
remember doing something like this four years ago too. I
was holding you down like this on your bed."
"I remember too," Shion said. "That time, I was the
one that went lunging at you. You dodged it like it was
nothing, and then the next moment, you were pinning me
down and I couldn't even move."
That stormy night. He remembered the wind howling
outside his window. He remembered the sensation of
Nezumi's skinny body, feverish and hot. It had been four
years since then.
It's been four years, and I still have neither skill nor
the heart to push this body aside.
"That time, I was holding a spoon. And I said― do you
remember? ― that if this was a knife, you'd be dead."
"Yeah."
"Wanna give it a try?" His fingers moved away from
Shion's throat. In their place, the blade of a knife was
pushed under his chin. It was cold. Shion felt a prick of
pain.
"I won't let you make a blood serum," Nezumi
whispered. "I didn't save you so you could go around doing
something like that. Keep your nose out of things you have
no business in. Stay holed up here until the time comes."
"'Til the time comes? When's that gonna be?"
"When I strike No. 6 with its fatal blow, that's when."
"When you strike No. 6..."
"Yeah. I'm going to choke its last breath out of it."
The weight lifted off Shion's chest. Nezumi put away
his knife, and wiped the cruel smile off his face. He pulled
a glove off, and stroked Shion under the chin with his bare
finger. A small red smudge came off on his fingertip.
"This is your blood. Don't even think of doing
something foolish like making a serum. Put it to better
use."
"Nezumi." Shion grabbed his wrist. "Why do you loathe
No. 6 so much?"
There was no answer.
"What happened between you and No. 6? Why do you
have so much hatred for it?"
Nezumi exhaled shortly. The muscles of his wrist
flexed.
"Shion, do you still not understand what kind of place
No. 6 is? It sucks the nutrients from the places around it,
and while they grow lean, it only become more engorged.
It's a hideous―"
"Parasite City."
 "Yeah. So you do know what I'm talking about.
Humankind is becoming more and more intent on expelling
parasitic organisms. What I'm doing is the same thing. I'm
going to exterminate and wipe No. 6 off the face of the
earth. Once that place is gone, the people here won't have
to live in a garbage can anymore."
"But what I want to hear is your personal reason,"
Shion persisted.
"I don't have one."
"You're lying. You're the one who told me only to fight
for myself."
Nezumi fell silent, and shrugged his shoulders.
"Is it revenge?"
Silence. Nezumi didn't even bother to shake Shion's
wrist off, and gazed at him as they stood face-to-face.
"Do you want revenge on No. 6? If you do― then what
happened?"
"I don't need to tell you."
"I want to hear it." Shion clenched his fingers around
Nezumi's wrist. "I want to know, Nezumi."
Suddenly, Nezumi started laughing. It sounded like a
laugh that was genuinely full of mirth.
"Geez, you're like a brat throwing a tantrum. Alright,
Shion."
"Mm-hmm?"
 "If I tell you, would you co-operate with me?"
"Huh?"
"Would you aid me as I stab a knife into the heart of
the city you were born and raised in? Would you help me
bring destruction― not salvation― unto that city? I don't
need any blood serum. If parasite wasps do exist, then I'll
use them. I want to wreak havoc on No. 6 from the inside.
I want to watch as the people that have always lived in
safety fall into a panic, flee in confusion, and lead
themselves to destruction. That's the kind of thing I have
in mind. Will you aid me, Shion?"
Shion shook his head from side to side. He dropped his
gaze from the pair of grey eyes.
"I can't do that."
Shion's fingers were shaken off.
"You're always like that," Nezumi spat. "You babble on
about how you want to know, but you're never prepared to
handle it. To know means to be prepared to know. Once
you find out the truth, there's no going back. You can't
ever go back to being the way you were, blissful and
unconcerned. Why can't you understand that? ―Shion, let
me ask another question."
Nezumi squatted, and hooked a finger under Shion's
chin.
"Me, or No.6 ― which one do you choose?"
 Shion's breath caught in his throat. He knew he would
be faced with this decision one day. He had felt it coming.
Which would he choose? If he chose one, he would lose
the other. He didn't want to go back to No. 6. In that
sense, he had no attachments whatsoever left for that
city. But with people, it was different. His mother, and
Safu, who was off in another city now, and the residents of
Lost Town were all within those walls. Within those walls
were familiar scenery and fond memories.
If Nezumi harboured hatred toward the entirety of No.
6, its people, scenery, memories and all, then he couldn't
sympathize with that hatred.
Nezumi's fingers withdrew from his chin.
"You love No. 6, and I hate it. That's why― one day,
we're going to be enemies."
It was a murmur. A murmur that stabbed at his heart.
"I have a feeling that we will," Nezumi said quietly.
He had said something similar before. That time, too,
Shion had said that he wanted to know. He had wanted to
know how Nezumi grew up. I want to know about you, he
had said. And now he was receiving the same answer as he
did that time. We're going to be enemies. But that time,
there had still been laughter in Nezumi's eyes, and his
voice had been light with jest. But now, it was heavy. A
darkness hung over the statement, and its weighty reality
sank deeper into Shion. It was Nezumi's honest answer.
Some day, we'll be enemies.
 Nezumi rose to his feet, and looked up at the clock on
the wall.
"Crap, I'm late," he said to himself. "The manager's
probably pissed off." He turned his back to Shion. His voice
and his eyes were wiped clean of any shadow of
murderous intent. His grey eyes were bright, and his tone
of voice was casual.
"Nezumi."
"Yes, yes," Nezumi said unconcernedly. "Mama is going
to work now. Little lamb, you are in charge of the house
while I'm gone. A scary wolf is going to come by, but
whatever you do, you aren't allowed to open the door.
Okay?"
"Don't underestimate me," Shion said quietly.
Nezumi's expression hardened. He drew his chin back a
little, and knitted his brow.
"What did you just say?"
"I said, don't underestimate me too much."
"Are you offended because I called you a little lamb?
Then why don't I give you the role of the Little Red Riding
Hood? Cute and innocent Red Riding Hood. Oblivious to
doubts and caution, she ends up being eaten by the wolf.
A perfect role for you."
I'm not going be provoked. You can condescend me all
you like. But I have something I need to tell you.
"Sometimes there are things I can see that you can't."
 "I don't understand what you're saying," Nezumi said
bluntly. "Oh wait, that's supposed to be your usual line,
right?"
"You put everything into dichotomies," Shion
continued, ignoring Nezumi's comment. "You either love or
you hate. You're either friends or enemies. Outside the
wall, or inside the wall. And you always say you can only
ever choose one of them."
"Of course. If I stood there at the fork in the road
wasting time trying to decide what to do, I'd wither away.
That's what cowards and traitors do. You can't run away
forever. Some day you'll have to choose one over the
other."
"Don't you think that there could be a third way?"
"Third way?"
"Yeah."
"Shion, what you're saying is incomprehensible,"
Nezumi said irritably. "What 'third way'?"
"Instead of destroying No. 6, what if you made it
disappear? Don't you ever think about that?"
Nezumi put a hand to his cheek, and took a deep
breath. He was restraining himself from letting it show on
his face, but Shion could tell he was agitated. Shion took a
step forward.
"Tear the walls down. Get rid of them."
"You mean No. 6's barriers?"
 "Yeah. Without its walls, No. 6 as a place will no
longer exist. Everyone will be able to come and go freely.
Take away the walls and gates. Then there will be nothing
dividing No. 6 and the Blocks from each other, and―"
Nezumi burst out laughing. He bent over, holding his
stomach. His hollow laughter echoed in the basement
room. The mice huddled together fearfully and curled up
into balls, making them smaller yet.
"Is it that funny to you?" Shion said tensely.
"It's hilarious. It's so funny, it's bringing me to tears.
You're not just a little airheaded, are you? Do you also
have delusionary tendencies? What third way, huh? Those
are just pretty words, an unrealistic fairy tale."
"Nezumi, I was serious when I said―"
"I'll have none of it." There was not a remnant of a
smile left in his face as Nezumi said those words. "We can't
have that place disappear so easily just yet. We have to
let it keep being the way it is, let it dress itself up and eat
a bellyful of good food, let it grow fat. I can just imagine
how great it must feel to slice that belly open with one
blow. I'm going to pull out all of its gorged innards and
expose it to the light. I can't wait. Yeah, spring is going to
be great. I'm quite excited."
Shion lifted his chin, and clenched both hands into
fists at his sides.
 "I don't care if you laugh at me, I still think it can be
done," he said defiantly. "I want to believe that it's
possible."
"You're just looking for an escape route," Nezumi shot
back. "You're looking for a way to avoid getting hurt. Say if
you do get rid of the walls: you won't get any kind of
heaven. It'll be hell. Tumult, disorder, fighting, looting―
you don't know how much these people have been
oppressed until now. You don't know how many people
have been sacrificed so that city can be where it is. You
don't know, and that's why you can spin fairy tales like
that. Shion, it can't be done. It's not like mixing paint, you
can't mingle them together and make them one. Either
one will have to destroy the other, that's the only solution.
That's what fate has set out. Love and hatred, friends and
enemies, those within and those outside the wall― and
you and I. They can never be as one, and neither can we."

***
"You don't know until you try. For one thing..."
"For one thing?"
"―I know I wouldn't become your enemy. Ever. No
matter what happens, even if I'm killed, I would be on
your side."
"Just pretty words."
"It's my resolve."
 It was his will, and it was unwavering. In order to
know, you had to try it first. He believed that human
souls, when faced with a dilemma, would ultimately
choose peace over war, songs and scriptures over
weapons, and love over hatred. It wasn't a fantasy. It was
hope. I still haven't abandoned hope. I want to find a road
that you can't see, and point it out for you.
Nezumi averted his gaze. He kicked the chair leg with
the tip of his shoe.
"It pisses the hell out of me sometimes, when I'm with
you. Your head's full of naive and idealistic theories, and
you talk as if you're actually serious about them."
"You wouldn't listen if I wasn't serious about it."
"That's enough," said Nezumi curtly. "Just shut up." He
began working at setting upright the chair that he had
kicked over, and lightly thumped the faded cushion seat.
"An idealistic armchair theorist like you should just sit
here all day long. Ignore the world outside, and mull over
this and that all inside your head. Don't talk to me
anymore. Don't make me any angrier than this."
"Nezumi―" Shion began.
"I don't want to hear it. Listening to you makes me
sick. Sick and tired. Damnit, if I knew you were such a
chatterbox, I would never have brought you here in the
first place."
"I'm not a chatterbox. I actually don't like speaking to
people much."
 "Then all the more reason for you to shut up."
But I can't just shut up. I can't sit here, close myself
off in my own world and sever myself from the world
outside. I have to talk to you, listen to your story, and
search for a way that we can go on living together.
I don't want to live like this anymore― plugging my
ears, keeping my mouth shut, closing my eyes. Nezumi,
you were the one that made me feel that way. Pry your
hands away from your ears, you said, open your mouth,
and will your eyes to see. Those were your words. And
now you're telling me to shut up? You're telling me you
don't want to hear it?
"Who's the coward now?" He muttered out loud without
thinking. Nezumi's expression hardened.
"What did you say?"
Is this gonna end in a fight? The thought flitted in a
corner of his mind. Then he decided he wouldn't mind if it
did. Nezumi would probably easily wrestle him to the
ground. Four years ago, and even now, this hadn't
changed. Shion had no chance against him. But it wasn't
about winning or losing.
He wanted to charge at Nezumi with his own body, his
own flesh. He wouldn't mind if he were to be pushed to
the ground, punched, or pinned so that he couldn't
breathe. If even for a moment, he wanted to collide with
Nezumi as equals.
 But Nezumi averted his gaze again. He made for the
door without even looking at Shion. But before Nezumi's
hand closed around the doorknob, there came a muffled
scratching sound from outside. Something was tearing at
the door. A moment later, there was a bark. Nezumi and
Shion looked at each other.
"Sounds like a dog."
Nezumi opened the door. A large, dark brown dog was
sitting in the doorway, wagging its tail. It had a white
parcel in its mouth.
"You're from Inukashi's―something happen to him?"
Nezumi retrieved the package from the dog's mouth. It
was a letter. Nezumi read it, and the corners of his mouth
relaxed.
"Shion, there's a job request for you."
Shion ran his eyes through the letter that was passed
to him. It was nearly illegible. The paper itself was
yellowed, old, and wet with dog saliva, and the
handwriting meandered all over the place. But it thrilled
Shion's heart more than any other letter he had received.
 "What's dog-washing?"
"It's just how it reads. You wash dogs― the ones that
Inukashi lends out for heating. They're the big, quiet ones
with long fur. There must be about twenty of them
altogether. He gets customers sometimes that don't pay
because they complain the dogs are smelly or have fleas,
so once a week on a sunny day he takes them out for a
wash. So what are you gonna do?"
"I'll go, of course," Shion glowed. "He's asking me if I
want to come work. It's my first job. I actually have a job
now."
"Will you stop gushing?" Nezumi said with a grimace.
"Man, you really are easy to please, aren't you?"
"Nezumi, should I take anything with me? Do you think
I'll need soap?"
"You probably won't need anything. Just beware of
men and women who might pull you into alleyways, I
guess. If that dog is with you, I don't think you need to
worry. I'll go with you partway."
 "Speaking of which, I do want to see your workplace
one day. And see you on the stage."
"Don't get your hopes up."
The dog barked.
"Thank you," Shion told him. "Thanks to you, I've been
able to get my hands on my first job. I'm all yours, take
me there."
The dog wagged its tail as Shion crouched down
toward it, and licked him under the chin.
"You're licking my wound for me? You're a nice boy."
"Dumbass, he only licked it because he smelled blood."
"I don't think so. He did it because he was concerned
about me. But whatever the reason, he's certainly nicer
than you," Shion said wryly.
"Don't compare me with a mutt," Nezumi said sullenly.
He looked genuinely disgruntled. The way he stuck his lip
out brought back a fleeting image of his face four years
ago. It somehow made Shion want to laugh, and for some
reason, made him feel nostalgic.
"What?" Nezumi said. "What're you grinning about?"
"Nothing," Shion said mildly. "Just noticing you've still
got a childish part left in you. It made me kind of happy."
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Alright, then," he said briskly, "lead the
way." He petted the dog lightly on the back. Picking up the
cue, the dog bounded up the stairs. Shion followed after it
and exited the basement room.
The sun was bright in his eyes. I see― a day like this
would be perfect for washing dogs. He tilted his face up
to the sky and breathed in deeply.

It looked like Shion's figure was being sucked into the

light. Whenever Nezumi crawled out of his dark hole, the
light always stabbed at his eyes. He didn't like bright
places. Places filled with light always turned easily into
areas of danger. He knew this well from experience. He
couldn't be like Shion and fully accept the light without
hesitation.
Friends and enemies. Outside the wall, and inside the
wall. Love and hatred. Light and dark.
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, Shion 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 Shion... just like Shion... 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? Shion 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 Shion, 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 Shion died, something within him would change
greatly. He didn't want to see Shion die. He would
probably suffer. Not Shion, but he― Nezumi― would suffer,
from having to live and stand before Shion's corpse. He
would be experiencing the same suffering again, of being
broiled alive in hellfire.
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 Shion 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. Shion 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 relationships 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 Shion 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 pass the memo, capsule and all, to Shion, and
then turn his back on him.
On a whim, Nezumi opened his door again.
Before him was his room, filled with books and sparse
furniture. The basement 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 space 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?" Shion 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? Shion, 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 --

CHAPTER 1
The Beautiful Ones...

Away, and mock the time with fairest show:

 False face must hide what the false heart doth
know.
-Macbeth Act I Scene VII[1]

The sky was blue and bright. The sun's rays,

approaching noon, were gentle and warm. It was a
temperate afternoon that made the frigidness of a few
days ago seem like a dream.
Shion lifted his face, and narrowed his eyes as he
looked up at the azure sky.
He thought it was beautiful.
The sky was beautiful. The blinding whiteness of the
crumbled ruin as it reflected the sunlight was beautiful.
The odd bubble that floated up as if by magic from the
soapsuds was beautiful. The sheen on the fur of a
freshly-washed dog was beautiful.
All the little things that surrounded him were
beautiful. A lone bubble floated up again and drifted on
the gentle breeze.
"Hey, stop slacking off," Inukashi's voice called over to
him. "There are still tons of dogs left. Space out every
other minute like that, and the sun's gonna set before
you're even halfway through."
As if in agreement with Inukashi's reprimand, a large
white dog covered in suds gave a low growl.
"Oops, sorry."
 Shion stuck his hands back into the suds and washed
the dog thoroughly with his fingertips. The dog evidently
found it very pleasing, for its eyes were closed and its
mouth lolled half-open. Today was only Shion's second
time at his dog-washing job, but already he had learned
that dogs had many different facial expressions. They also
varied in personality and tendency: some were lazy, others
diligent; some high-strung, others laid-back; they could be
mild, impatient, rambunctious― all of this was new to
him.
The white dog that he was washing now was a female
that was quite old. It was gentle and intelligent, and
reminded him of the wise old woman that often appeared
in tales.
"Shion, you're spending way too much time on each
dog. How long is it taking you to wash just one?" Inukashi,
with his long hair tied at the back and soapsuds on his
nose, pulled a face at him.
"You lend these dogs out to serve as blankets, don't
you?" Shion answered. "They need to be cleaned properly,
then."
"A quick wash is good enough. The customers are all
like dirty strays anyway, the bastards."
In a building mostly reduced to rubble, there was a
part that still somewhat retained a semblance of the hotel
that it used to be. Inukashi lent space there as overnight
accommodation for those who had nowhere to stay. He
lent out dogs in preparation for the coming winter.
Boarders spent the night buried amongst several dogs, and
by doing so were able to avoid freezing to death. Shion
had been hired to wash these dogs.
"Inukashi, I don't think that's a nice thing to say about
your customers."
"Huh? What'd you say?"
"It's not good to call your customers bastards, or call
them dirty."
Inukashi rubbed his nose with the back of his hand,
and gave a small sneeze.
"Are you my Mum or what, Shion?"
"No. I've been hired by you to wash your dogs."
"Then that makes me the employer and you the
employee. And your job is to shut up and do what you're
told."
Inukashi yanked the white dog out of Shion's hands,
and began vigorously rinsing the dog by dumping water
over it, which he had drawn from the stream.
At the back of the ruins, there ran a small, clear river.
Not long after Shion had escaped from No. 6 to this West
Block, he had nearly died from a parasite wasp that had
planted itself in his body. Although he was unconscious
most of the time from severe pain and high fever, he still
remembered clearly the taste of the cold, delicious water
that had slid down his throat numerous times.
 When he had thanked Nezumi for giving him water and
treating him, he had gotten a gruff answer that there was
a decent spring nearby. Perhaps this stream originated
from that spring.
"Inukashi, don't do that. All the soap is getting into the
river." Shion hastily restrained Inukashi's hands. Soapsuds
bobbed on the stream as they drifted away from them.
"So what?"
"Everyone drinks from this stream, don't they?"
"Well, yeah, of course. We don't have any fancy
facilities that give you sanitized and
temperature-controlled water at the push of a button.
Everyone draws water directly from the river or spring."
"Then you can't get it dirty. It's bad for the people
downstream."
Inukashi stared into Shion's face for a brief moment.
"And why should I care about the people downstream?"
"Well, I mean..." Shion faltered. "If you know that the
people downstream are going to be drinking from here,
you wouldn't want to make it dirty for them. That's
normal, right?"
"Normal? By whose standards are we talking about,
Shion? This is the West Block. You wouldn't be able to
survive here if you went around putting everyone else
first."
 "Yeah, but there's no need to go out of the way to
make it dirty," Shion protested. "We can do what we did
yesterday, and put water in steel drums and wash the dogs
there."
"Yesterday we only had small dogs. FYI, Shion, we
were supposed to get through all the dogs yesterday. You
taking your sweet time is costing us. You understand that,
right?"
"Yeah."
"Not only are you horribly slow, the dogs we're washing
today are all big. And that's not it― wait for it― there are
shitloads of them. Are you getting the picture? If we drew
a bath each and every single time, it would take forever."
Then Inukashi stopped, and shrugged slightly.
"But if you wanna draw water from the river on your
own, I'm not gonna get in your way."
"Fine. I'll do it."
"It's heavy labour, man."
"I know."
"By the way, I'm only paying you to wash the dogs.
Carrying the water is something you're doing entirely on
your own."
"I don't mind."
"Well then, get cracking. I'm gonna have lunch."
 The white dog shook itself vigorously, and water
droplets flew in all directions. Shion grabbed the pail that
Inukashi had tossed at him, and drew a pailful of water
from the river.
"Shion," Inukashi said abruptly.
"Hm?"
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why shouldn't I badmouth my customers? Why do I
have to bother about the people downstream?"
Shion looked up into Inukashi's tan face as he sat
perched atop a pile of rubble.
"Because we're the same."
"Same?"
"They're the same humans as us. So―"
Inukashi suddenly threw his head back and laughed.
His voice rang out and was sucked into the bright blue sky.
Several dogs began barking in agitation.
"Same humans, huh? Ha ha, you nearly bowled me
over. I've never heard those words before in my life. Shion,
is that honestly what you think?"
"Yeah, is there a problem?" Shion said stoutly.
Inukashi leapt down from the rubble and drew up to
him. He had a small frame, and only reached up to around
Shion's shoulders in height. His thin arms and legs
protruded from his black clothes, and his skin was the
shade of tanned leather.
"So my filthy customers, and the brats that come here
to draw water are the same humans as us?"
"Yeah."
"Are you and I the same humans?"
"Yeah."
Inukashi lifted his arm and extended it upwards to the
noon sun above.
"Are the people of No. 6 the same humans as us?"
Shion nodded slowly, and answered.
"Yeah."
Inukashi's smooth, tan skin glowed in the sunlight, and
his long bangs cast a shadow over his forehead and eyes.
Under its veil, the same tan-brown eyes blinked a few
times at him.
"Shion, you're gonna die."
"Huh?"
"Is your head up in the clouds[2] or something? If you
keep believing in that fantasy of yours, you'll never survive
here."
"Nezumi tells me the same thing," Shion said. "That
I've got my head up in the clouds."
 "The clouds wouldn't be high enough, actually. Your
head must be in space, or something. I don't know what
space is supposed to be like, but it's really high up, right?
And sometimes you burn up, just like that, before you
even get there."
"I've never been to space, but yeah, I guess it is really
high up."
Inukashi climbed nimbly up the ruins, and sat down
with the blue sky at his back. He dangled his legs over the
edge, and spoke quietly as if to himself.
"I wonder why Nezumi even puts up with you. He hates
people that are all talk, and unrealistic."
"Inukashi, are you close with Nezumi?"
"Close? What do you mean by close?"
Shion heaved the pail up the path of withered grass
and rubble, and dumped the water into the steel drum.
"It means you know a lot about each other."
"Oh, if that's the case, then no. I know less than the
tip of that guy's tail, and I wouldn't want to know." As he
spoke, Inukashi pointed at the light brown puppy that was
tumbling about at Shion's feet. Its tail was tipped with
white.
"I thought you were friends, but I guess I was wrong..."
"Friends!" Inukashi exclaimed incredulously. "There's
another word I don't hear often. Friends. Hah, ridiculous.
Nezumi only comes here when he wants information that
me or my dogs have collected. I give him information, and
he gives me money. That's it, that's everything."
Inukashi fell silent. His gaze wandered, collided with
Shion's, and slid away.
"It's not just information and money that you guys
trade," Shion said. A statement, not a question.
"Uh― well, once in a while, he― sings for me."
"Sings?"
"He has a good voice. So I... I get him to sing.
Sometimes when my dogs die― it's alright when you wake
up and they're already dead, but― sometimes, they're sick
or hurt, and don't die as easily, and they... they suffer. It
hurts them so much, they whimper all night long. That's
when I get him to sing. I don't know what the song's
called. But it― I don't know how to describe it― I dunno,
what would it be?" Inukashi murmured to himself.
"What does it sound like?"
"Huh?"
"Nezumi's song. Nezumi's voice. If you were to
compare it to something, what would it be?"
Inukashi tilted his head to the side, and pondered in
silence. Shion also silently continued carrying pailfuls of
water. He made several trips between the river and the
steel drum, and when more than half of it had been filled,
Inukashi opened his mouth again.
 "The wind, maybe...?" he said hesitantly. "A wind that
comes blowing from far away... yeah, his song steals away
souls that are struggling because they can't die. Just like
how the wind scatters flower petals, his song cuts the soul
away from the body. Any dog, no matter how much he's
suffering, closes his eyes and becomes quiet. You think
he's just settled down, but he's actually not breathing.
They all die quietly, like all their suffering was just a
dream or something." He paused. "It was like that with my
Mum, too."
"Your mother's passed away?"
"Yeah. She got killed by a couple of brats that live
downstream, the ones you said I shouldn't make the water
dirty for. She got rocks thrown at her, and was clubbed to
death with an oak stick. But my Mum was at fault for that,
too. She tried to steal their only supper. She snuck into
their hut, and got caught holding their dried meat in her
mouth. When she finally got away and managed to come
back, both her front legs and ribs were broken, and she
was bleeding from her mouth. There was nothing we could
do."
Having finished filling the drum with water, Shion
wiped the sweat off his brow. He couldn't understand
Inukashi's words.
"Inukashi, by front legs... you mean your mother's,
right?"
"Yeah. She's a dog."
"A dog?"
 Shion could feel his jaw drop. Inukashi looked at him
and gave a laugh. His voice was high and rang out clearly
into the air.
"I was dumped here when I was still a baby," he
explained. "The old man that picked me up was a weirdo
who lived here with his dogs, and he raised me together
with them. My Mum gave me milk. She licked me, and
curled up with me to sleep. When it got cold, she huddled
close to me and my siblings― her puppies― and kept us
warm. She always used to say, you poor thing, you have no
fur― but at least you're cool in the summer, and you don't
get fleas. She'd tell me that over and over again, and lick
me until I was clean."
"She must have been a great mother," Shion said softly.
"Gentle and caring."
Inukashi blinked several times.
"You really think so, Shion?"
"I do. She cherished you. Since you didn't have fur, she
protected you and made sure you didn't freeze."
"Yeah. Mum was always really nice. I still remember
how her tongue felt. It was warm, and wet... funny, I can
never seem to forget about it."
"It's a gift of memory."
"Huh?"
"It's a gift of memory from mother to son. Memories
that your mother's left behind for you."
 Inukashi stopped dangling his legs, and drew his chin
back.
"I've never thought of it like that..." he said pensively.
"A gift of memory, huh..."
Shion knelt at the river's edge and sipped a mouthful
of water.
It was cold. It soaked through his entire body, and it
was delicious.
Ah yes, it's this water.
It was the water that had quenched his exhausted
body like an elixir after his battle with the parasite wasp.
Not only his body― it was from the moment the water had
slid down his throat and he had found it delicious, that
Shion's entire being was revived again. He believed it so.
This water was connected to what it meant to be
alive. This coldness, this deliciousness. It was connected
to the voice that called to him, telling him, don't die, live,
come crawling back up again.
That was why he would remember it forever. There
was no way he could forget it. Deep within Shion, this
water and that voice had set its roots down, and would
continue to thrive, never to wither. And at times, it would
float to the surface of his conscious, and each time, it
would whisper to him.
Don't die. Live. Come crawling back up again.
It was a gift of memory, indeed.
 "I'll bring ya some lunch." Inukashi stood atop the
rubble, and spoke in a tone that sounded more like a
command. "You better be finished with that black one by
the time I get back. I won't let you have it until you're
finished."
"Wow, I even get lunch? That's nice of you."
"I don't just serve this to anyone, you know. It's a
full-course meal. And by full I mean two: bread and dried
fruit."
"That's more than enough."
Running a brush through the black dog's fur, Shion
grinned at Inukashi. Months had passed since escaping to
the West Block, and chronic hunger gnawed at Shion
persistently. At times he wished he could eat his fill of
dishes with plenty of meat, fish, and eggs, and he yearned
for the bread and cakes that his mother Karan baked. But
in contrast, things that he had never even acknowledged
as food before― soup made with bits and ends of
vegetables, and bread that was beginning to mould― made
his mouth water, and satiated his appetite.
Being able to eat is enough.
Here, everyone was starving. They starved, froze, and
passed away. Shion knew in his own way how precious the
single slice of bread was that Inukashi was about to give
him.
He looked up to the sky. The sun was bright. This light
was also shining down on No. 6. His former workplace at
the Forest Park, the high-end residential area of Chronos,
Lost Town, where his mother lived, and here, West Block,
were bathed in the same light. But things were so
different. Too different.
Divided by a wall of special alloy, prosperity and
poverty stood in opposition to each other. Life and death.
Light and dark. At the same hour that an extravagant
party was being hosted in the interior of No. 6, while
people smacked their lips at the numerous elaborate and
delectable dishes, in a corner of the West Block, an
elderly person clad in rags would starve to death. While
the boys and girls of No. 6 would crawl into their beds in
their air-conditioned rooms, the children in the barracks
of the West Block would huddle close to each other to
avoid freezing to death.
It was the truth that Shion had seen with his eyes.
There were far too few things which were like the
sunlight, equally and amply distributed among all.
"Get working, then," Inukashi spat, and disappeared in
the shadows of the ruin.

All that remained of the entranceway, which had

probably once been flanked by thick, wooden doors, were
pairs of rusted hinges. Every time the wind blew in, their
screeching noise assaulted the ears. Inukashi passed
through that entrance to climb the stairs to the second
floor. Some sort of architectural consideration had left this
particular part of the building, which used to be a hotel,
withstanding against the elements. Durable though it was,
plaster still peeled from the walls, and the hallways and
ceilings were webbed with countless cracks.
Buildings too possessed a life. From the moment they
were abandoned, buildings began to decay. They began to
die. This hotel, which had become a ruin, continued
crumbling and decaying still. It marched steadily toward
destruction, neither loathing the heartlessness of its
human owners, nor lamenting its fate.
Inukashi occasionally wondered what he would do
once this building had completely collapsed into rubble.
The old man that had picked him up, given him dog's
milk, and taught him speech and the written word was no
longer here. He had wandered outside one snowy day,
never to return again.
Snow? Was it snowing? Maybe it was thundering that
day. Or it might have been a morning with chapped
winds... either way, the old man disappeared. He
vanished, without even leaving any words of farewell.
He wasn't lonely, because he had his dogs. From that
day until now, he had lived here with them. He knew no
other home. He also knew of no other human company.
Nezumi was probably the same. He may have been to
more places than Inukashi, but he probably lived alone,
not knowing anyone else, nor ever having the need to
know. Inukashi had assumed so, for no particular reason.
He had no grounds for his argument, but he figured he
wasn't entirely wrong. Inukashi had a sharp sense of smell.
Nezumi always only carried the smell of loneliness. When
that scent blurred, and Inukashi had begun to notice a
mingled scent of another, Shion had appeared before him.
He was a weirdo. He was very strange. His hair was
snowy-white, and he had a red scar. Though Inukashi
wasn't sure, he'd heard that the raised scar covered Shion's
whole body like a coiled snake. But in terms of
appearance, there were tons more people who were
weirder than him. His appearance wasn't the only thing―
Shion was also weird on the inside. He said not to dirty
the water for the brats downstream. He said the people
inside the Holy City and people like us were the same.
And he talked about the gift of memory. Not as any kind
of joke or sarcasm, but in all seriousness.
He was weird. Very weird. Why is Nezumi hanging
around a weirdo like him?
Inukashi walked down the hall, and opened the door at
the very end of it.
"Nezumi."
Nezumi was sitting in a chair with his feet up on the
table.
"Can't you even knock before entering the room?"
Inukashi said irritably. "Someone didn't learn proper
manners from Mama. Geez." He then swung a blow as hard
as he could toward the pair of long legs resting on the
table. Nezumi sniffed lightly in derision, and took his legs
off.
 "I called out before coming in. That dog gave me
permission to enter." A dog with black patches on its fur
was lying in a corner of the room. It cocked its head to the
side, and gave a wide yawn.
"If you're here to pick up Shion, you're early. If he
keeps going at this pace, he probably won't be done 'til
evening."
"Pick up? Never."
"But he scuffled with the Disposers, din' he? Isn't it
dangerous to let him walk by himself? I'll send him with a
dog on the way home, either way."
"That's good enough."
"But the Disposers don't give up easily. That guy stands
out, and if he gets caught, who knows what they might do
to him."
Nezumi's grey eyes sparkled, and a slight smile played
on his lips.
"Does it matter to us what the Disposers do to Shion?
What's up, Inukashi? You're being awfully nice. Not like you
at all."
Inukashi glared at Nezumi silently.
The small playhouse was one of the few entertainment
facilities in the West Block. And as one who stood upon its
stage, Nezumi made his audience pay― or rather, made
them want to pay― out of what little money they had for
a show that provided them no physical nourishment. It was
Nezumi's beautiful countenance and deep, clear voice that
made them want to. His voice laid trapped and dying souls
to rest, gently detaching them from the body. His
appearance made it impossible to discern whether he was
male or female, human or demon, God or the Devil. His
audience, in a brief slice of the evening, could forget the
day's hardships and the next day's sorrows, and let
themselves be immersed and intoxicated by his voice.
Once the outside the shabby doors of the playhouse,
reality waited for them― no money in their pockets;
children crying for food at home― but despite that, the
people's faces were always filled with drunken
contentment as they scattered hither and thither into the
darkness.
It's all an illusion. He's just a big fraud.
Every time he met with Nezumi, Inukashi mentally
spat these words from the pit of his stomach. Nezumi was
like the beautiful mistress who manipulated men and
milked them of all that they were worth. Inukashi had
been through that experience once, too.
Mum was suffering so much, I didn't know what else to
do but to call him. I asked him to let my Mum's soul go
peacefully. That was still good. His song was impressive,
and my Mum was released from suffering. But what he did
before that― the sheer amount of money he demanded
while my Mum lay there suffering― it was enough money
for me to live a whole month without working. With other
dogs, I would've given up. I would slit their throat, or
smash their skull with my own hands, and let them die a
quick and easy death. But I couldn't do that to my Mum. I
could never do that to her with my own hands. He knew
that, and that's why he demanded that sum. After burying
Mum in her grave, me and the dogs had to work for three
days without any food. He's a fraud. He captures people's
souls, clamps down on them, and shows them a fleeting
dream. It might be vivid, but it's still fake. Dreams are
dreams. You can't live on them.
Inukashi unlocked the cabinet and retrieved the bread
and a bag of dried fruits.
"If you're not here to pick Shion up, what're you here
for?"
"Can you treat me to some lunch? I'm starving."
"You jest," Inukashi said in a mocking voice. "I don't
have anything fitting for a star actor like you. But if you
pay me one silver coin, I can give you bread, fruits, and
water."
"One silver coin for mouldy bread, rock-hard dried
fruits and water from the stream? That's stretching it,
Inukashi."
"Way cheaper than how much it costs for your singing."
Nezumi chuckled softly.
"You still holding a grudge about that?"
"Damn right, I am."
 "I sang for your dogs so many times after that. It might
as well have been charity, for the amount I took as
payment."
"That's what pisses me off even more. You took
advantage of me. I got gypped out of all the money I had
that time. I was this close to starving to death."
"Well, if that happens again, feel free to call me,"
Nezumi said amiably. "I'll sing you a song about food, and
see you off."
"Just teeming with compassion, aren't you?" Inukashi
retorted. He hunched his shoulders, and stood directly in
front of Nezumi. He posed his question once more.
"What do you want?"
Nezumi, still deeply seated in the chair, tossed a single
coin onto the table. Inukashi's eyes widened.
"Gold..." he whispered.
"It's real. See for yourself."
Inukashi pinched the shiny coin between his fingertips,
and gazed at it.
"You're right― it's real. Yeah. It's the real thing."
"I want you to do a job for me," Nezumi said in an
expressionless voice.
"Job? A job that's worth a whole gold coin?"
"That's down payment. After the job is done, I'll give
you another gold coin."
 "Big spender, aren't you? But I won't take it." Inukashi
flung the coin out onto the table.
"You're going to refuse a job worth two gold coins
without even hearing about it?"
"I'm refusing it because it's a job worth two gold coins.
I can just smell the stench."
"Stench?"
"The smell of danger. My nose is warning me― it's
saying, don't go there, or else you'll get killed. I don't care
how much money you're gonna pile on. If I die, it's all over.
Either way, any job that involves a Rat and is worth two
gold coins is like sticking my hand into a nest of poisonous
snakes. I don't wanna die just yet."
"That's why you get the money without dying― isn't
that what doing a job is all about? Avoiding danger isn't
gonna turn you a profit."
"It depends on the level of danger. All your jobs are
dangerous and tricky. This is two whole gold coins we're
talking about here. If anyone else came to me with that
deal, I'd have taken it in a split second. Damnit," Inukashi
grumbled. "I feel ripped off already."
Nezumi stood up, and pocketed the gold coins.
"That's too bad. I guess it can't be helped."
"No hard feelings. Things are just too risky with you.
To be honest, I don't even wanna have much to do with
you."
 "Then it's mutual," Nezumi said airily. "Fine. Let's not
meddle with each other anymore. I'll never come to you
with a job again. As for you, no matter how much you
suffer, be sure you don't come to me about it."
Inukashi hastily grabbed Nezumi's arm as he turned his
back. He had lunged so suddenly that he almost tripped
over himself.
"W-Wait a minute, Nezumi. What do you mean, no
matter how much I suffer?"
"I just told you. If you end up like your mother
someday and you're suffering because you can't die, it
won't have anything to do with me. You can call me, but I
won't come."
"What're you going on about...?" Inukashi said shakily.
"Me, going through a painful death? That would never
happen... Besides, I'm younger than you, aren't I? I think
so, at least."
Nezumi lazily brushed Inukashi's hand off.
"Inukashi, age doesn't matter in this place. You know
that, don't you? Death can never be predicted. It just
comes. And how many people here are lucky enough to die
painlessly, huh? The majority suffer, suffer, and die
writhing. Tomorrow, someone might stab a knife into your
stomach. You might crack your skull open on a falling
piece of debris. You might get bacteria into a wound, have
it fester, and rot alive. You might come down with a
serious illness. Can you guarantee that none of that is
going to happen to you? Huh, Inukashi? Can you say with
certainty that you, above all people, will die without
suffering?"
The pair of grey eyes bore into him. They had the
lustre of fine cloth, and glowed dimly like the clouds when
they shrouded the sun. His voice reverberated deep in his
ears.
Inukashi sucked a breath in, and took a step
backwards.
It was a trick. An illusion. He's trying to suck me in.
"Suffer all you may because you can't die. I won't get
involved. Fine with you, right?"
Inukashi sank into a chair.
He knew death. He had seen it countless times. Not
one of them could be called decent. That was why― that
was why he wanted to stay alive. He felt like as long as he
survived, he would be able to experience a more-or-less
better death. Although much too insignificant to call it
hope, Inukashi admitted feeling a sort of longing for
peaceful death.
Damnit.
He gritted his teeth. Nezumi's lips curled thinly into a
smile.
This is a threat. I can easily turn Nezumi down now.
But after that, if I were to get into the same fix as Mum
did― my bones broken, my insides crushed, blood spurting
from my mouth― and I had to die that way... If there was
nothing to ease my pain, numb it even just a little― if I
had no choice but to moan and plead for someone to kill
me, quickly, please, until death came to claim me― Just
thinking about it sent a chill down his spine. He broke into
a sweat.
"Sit down," Inukashi uttered weakly. "I'll listen to what
you have to say, first."
Nezumi's gloved hand extended toward him and
caressed his cheek.
"Good boy."
"Fuck you."
Inukashi glared at the face that still smiled wanly at
him. "Lemme tell you something, Nezumi. Don't think this
shebang is gonna work every time."
"Shebang? I only want you to do a job for me. A rude
way to treat a customer, don't you think, Inukashi?"
"Is this your idea of a decent customer? Taking
advantage of someone's weakness, threatening him, and
then forcing a dangerous job on him? I think even fleas are
a little nicer to the dogs they infest, compared to you."
"Wouldn't you say," Nezumi said, "that the fault lies
with that person for having a weakness that can be taken
advantage of in the first place? In these parts, exposing
your weakness can cost you your life. Not news to you, I
hope?"
 Nezumi once more gently stroked Inukashi's cheek as
he fell silent, and murmured sympathetically.
"You're afraid of death. More than anything, you're
afraid of the suffering that leads up to it. You'd do
anything to be spared from it. I know that, and I'm able to
ease that pain for you, am I not? I don't want to blackmail
and wring things out of you. I'm taking the proper steps,
paying you money in exchange for a job."
"That's enough!" Inukashi slammed the table with his
fist. Two puppies that were playing under the table shot
out from under it and fled.
"You fraud, you sophist, you third-rate actor! I hope
you choke on rat poison and die." Out of breath, Inukashi
inhaled raggedly.
"Are you finished?" Nezumi said momentarily. His calm
and unruffled tone further stirred Inukashi's wrath. But it
was no use getting irritated. Nezumi was right. He was at
fault for exposing his weakness and leaving himself
vulnerable. These were the rules of this land.
Inukashi sighed, and adjusted himself in his seat.
"Let's hear what you have to say. I don't have much
time. Keep it short and sweet."
Nezumi lowered himself into a seat as well. He was no
longer smiling.

***
 "I want information."
"I figured as much," Inukashi said simply. "Even you
wouldn't be foolish enough to come to me looking for
groceries. So? Information about what?"
"The Correctional Facility."
Inukashi almost fell over.
"Correctional Facility!" he exclaimed. "You mean the
one the Security Bureau presides over?"
"Is there some other Correctional Facility that no one
knows about?" Nezumi said sarcastically.
Inukashi ignored him.
"So you want information... what kind of information?"
"Any kind, no matter how unimportant." Nezumi fished
a white mouse out of his pocket. It was about the size of
an adult thumb. Inukashi's eyes narrowed.
"Is that a robot? It's smaller than the one you gave me
last time."
Pulling off his gloves, Nezumi gently pressed the
mouse's head. Its back split open, and a yellow shimmer of
light flickered momentarily before an image floated up
into it.
"What's this?"
"A hologram. The mechanism embedded in this mouse
uses light to reproduce objects."
 "I know what a hologram is," Inukashi said irritably. "It's
my first time actually seeing one, though," he said as an
afterthought. "But I'm asking about what's displayed there.
What is this? A blueprint?"
"It's a floor plan of the Correctional Facility's inner
structure, but it's pretty outdated. The structure itself
might not have changed, but their administrative system
has probably been improved."
Inukashi scowled at him in a way that said, 'you must
be kidding me'.
"No can do. I don't care what kind of information you
want, I won't be able to get it for you."
"Why?"
"Why? Don't ask me stupid questions. Do you know
what kind of place that is? Of course you wouldn't," he said
flatly, "I don't know either. No one knows, because there
hasn't been a single person who came out of that place
alive. ―Not even dead bodies can make it out of there.
Once they pass through the Special Gates, they disappear.
They vanish off the face of the earth. That's the kind of
place it is, right? That's what the rumours say."
Inukashi gulped, and shuddered. Nezumi echoed his
words back to him expressionlessly.
"Rumours?"
"Rumours say―" Inukashi began hesitantly, "there's a
huge incinerator in the basement, and all the prisoners
get thrown in there. They get burned like garbage. And
the ashes that come out of there are scattered on the
farm fields of the South Block, instead of going to waste
disposal. They say it's good for the soil. ―Here, in this
place."
Inukashi pointed at the bottom-most floor, presumably
the basement, on the diagram that floated above the
table, and shuddered again. It was a blank white space,
and there was nothing written in it. This curiously empty
space gave him an eerie feeling.
"There's no incinerator there," Nezumi muttered.
"What makes you so sure?" Inukashi said accusingly.
"Have you seen it? How can you say that without even―"
Inukashi clipped his words halfway through and found
himself staring at Nezumi.
"You know―?"
There was no answer.
"You know what it's like inside the Correctional
Facility? When―" Inukashi's hand thrust into the light, and
clenched into a fist. The image jittered and warped.
"When did you record this?" he demanded. "This is
internal data."
"Inukashi, I'm not paying you gold to answer your
questions. I want whatever you can manage ― find any
latest information about the interior of the Correctional
Facility, and add it to this data. Specifically, if I were to
be picky, I'd want accurate information about the
operations and security systems."
"You stupid or something? Operations system? Only
people in the highest classes have access to that, it's top
secret. Tough luck if I can even get my hands on it."
"That's why I'm not being picky. Gather whatever you
can manage. Any information that has to do with the
Correctional Facility, and I want it ASAP. I'll leave you with
this."
Nezumi turned off the switch, and tossed the small
projector mouse to Inukashi. Inukashi wrinkled his nose at
it as if it were a rotting corpse.
"Should I use the mini-mouse I got from you last time?"
he asked.
"No, that won't work. The Correctional Facility is full
of security sensors. Any robot, no matter how small, is
gonna get blown up if it's caught scurrying around without
proper recognition."
"Then use real mice," Inukashi continued. "They'll be
able to get in much easier than dogs. A small living
organism isn't a problem for the sensor, is it?"
"Not so fast. Forget mice, even flies or cockroaches
would be exterminated automatically. Lasers burn them
up so that there's nothing of them left. They don't let a
single fly intrude into that place. And that's how it is."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Inukashi said in
frustration. "How am I supposed to sneak in and gather
information from some place that's all
computer-managed?"
"You don't have to sneak in. You're right ― pretty much
all of the Facility's interior is managed to the tee. But
there are still lots of areas that involve people, too. And
information usually leaks through the mouths of people. If
there's anything computers can't control, it's a man's
tongue."
Inukashi hunched his shoulders exaggeratedly. He was
beginning to make out, though vaguely, what Nezumi was
trying to get at. He didn't want to see any more clearly if
he could help it.
"Of course," he agreed promptly. "You need people
operating the computers and humanoid robots. The guards
would have to be human, and officials from the Bureau
would be coming in and out of there. And we can't forget
the prisoners, they're human too, right? But apart from
them, the only people that can come and go from the
Correctional Facility are people inside No. 6. You need an
IC card to get through the Special Gates. It's impossible to
create a fake No. 6 IC card. Which means no one from the
West Block can get near that building unless they're
prisoners. Not that anyone would wanna get near it,
anyway. So ―" He was talking rather fast. "Well ― if we
jump to the conclusion, pretty much it's impossible for us
to interact with people inside the Correctional Facility
because they're residents of No. 6, and that makes it an
impossible case, right? You should know better than
anyone. Those guys live in a completely different world
from us. It's just different."
"Inukashi."
"What?"
"You're talkative today."
Inukashi dropped his gaze. He knew that lowering his
eyes signalled defeat, but he had no energy to glare back
at the pair of grey ones that stared at him. He knew
already who would win and who would lose.
Nezumi stood up and drew close to Inukashi, who was
staring at the floor. He whispered in a voice raspy and low,
but sensual ― a woman's voice.
"That's how you always are. When you've got
something to hide, you suddenly become more eloquent.
And then I realize the truth that lies in your heart ― that
underneath that tongue of yours, flapping like a leaf in
the wind, a furtive secret is curled up."
His fingertips stroked Inukashi's chin, slid up his
jawline, and lightly pinched his earlobe. Inukashi shivered.
The brief moment of ecstasy was followed quickly by a
small, sharp pain. His earlobe had been yanked.
"Ow!" he said indignantly. "The hell was that for?"
"Don't underestimate me, Inukashi."
"What're you talking about? I wasn't―"
"Stop playing dumb. I know what you're using your
dogs for. That's why I came here."
 Inukashi tsked loudly, and roughly shoved Nezumi's
hand away. Nezumi chuckled amusedly.
"You use your dogs to smuggle, don't you? You've been
transporting leftover food and garbage from the
Correctional Facility into the West Block. For years now."
"I am," Inukashi answered defiantly. "So what?
Transporting goods is also part of my trade. A rat like you
has no business telling me what to do."
"The Correctional Facility has full waste disposal
functions," Nezumi continued. "They can dispose of
everything inside that building. You just said that not even
corpses can make it out of there. You're right. They even
dispose of dead bodies inside that place. Which means
there shouldn't even be a speck of dust escaping from
there, much less leftover food. From that same
Correctional Facility, you somehow manage to get
periodical loads of leftover food, and sell it to the food
stalls in the West Block. Makes good money, doesn't it?
Maybe even more than your hotel-running business?"
"Is it not to your liking that I'm operating in the black
market?" Inukashi said scathingly. "You must be kidding
me. Since when did you become a Bureau lackey, huh,
Nezumi?"
"Machines don't trade with black-market merchants.
Once programmed with a set of rules, they'll never break
them. If anyone's going to break the rules, it's the humans.
There's someone in the interior of the Correctional Facility
that's selling you leftover food, isn't there? No, not just
food. He's probably passing prisoner rations and other
belongings your way too. Anyway, the fact is, you have a
contact inside the Correctional Facility. Sniff out a lead
from him. Lure the information out of him."
Inukashi shook his head. The young man in front of
him was trying to get him involved in more danger than he
had expected. Inukashi broke out into a cold sweat.
"It's impossible―" he muttered. "The guys I deal with
are the lowest of the low. They pretty much do the
cleaning and waste disposal right alongside the robots.
There's no way they would have any sort of useful
information."
"That's exactly why you wanna ask them. The guys on
the top tier are strictly overseen by the authorities. They
can't risk the danger of letting any secrets slip. But
management is lax with people in lower positions. And if
their job is to clean the place, they've probably been
everywhere inside the Facility. Who knows, they might
have more information than you think. Your job is to sniff
it out. Your nose is as good as a dog's, isn't it?"
Inukashi heaved a sigh, and vainly attempted at a last
act of retaliation.
"I need money. To get any information from them, I'd
need money. Two gold coins isn't gonna cut it."
Nezumi nodded, and passed a small leather pouch to
Inukashi. In it, there were a considerable number of gold
coins.
 "I only have this much right now." Nezumi suddenly
squatted down and peered into Inukashi's eyes.
"Inukashi, work with me. I'm begging you."
Begging? Nezumi, are you begging me?
"If you take the job, I promise I'll always rush to your
side if you're overcome with unbearable pain one day. No
matter where you are, I'll deliver a song to your soul. I
promise."
"Who's gonna count on a promise between a dog and a
rat?"
No one could guarantee it. But yet ― Nezumi would
keep his promise. Almost instinctively, the feeling
apprehended Inukashi's soul.
No matter where or how I died, if it was accompanied
with suffering, he would always appear and put my soul
to rest. He could be hard to understand as hell, but he
would never break a promise.
Inukashi believed strongly in his own instincts. He
extended his hand, and closed it around the leather
pouch.
"I'll take the job."
"I owe you one." Nezumi breathed out shortly, and
wound the superfibre cape around his shoulders. Then, he
put a finger to his lips.
"I shouldn't need to tell you, but none of this―"
 "I know. I won't let anyone get wind of the job. It's the
cardinal rule for my work. I'll gather the information as
quickly as I can, and contact you before anyone else can
find out."
"I'm counting on you."
"Nezumi, I wanna ask you something."
"What?"
"What are you doing this for?"
Silence. It was impossible to read a single expression
from Nezumi's face. Inukashi licked his bottom lip, and
continued.
"With this much money, you could live the easy life for
a pretty good while. I knew you were a star actor and
making quite a bit of money, but even for that, this is a
lot. Putting this much money forward, and threatening
me―"
"I'm not threatening you. I only came to you with a
job."
"Hmph―whatever. Then, going as far as to request a
job from me ― what makes you want to poke your nose
into the Correctional Facility so badly? What's your
reason?"
Nezumi didn't answer. He only made a slight
half-smile. It was an artificial one, made for the stage.
"You don't need to know to do the job, do you,
Inukashi?"
 "Well, obviously," Inukashi said testily. "But diving into
this kind of risky job without even knowing why is kinda
harsh, man."
"Finding out why isn't gonna change how risky it is."
Tsk. This guy and his fondness of twisting arguments
around ― I'm no match for him when it comes to verbal
arguments.
"Fine," he said finally. "That's enough from you. Get
outta here already." Inukashi flapped his hand to shoo
Nezumi away. He caught a whiff of soap. The image of a
face crossed his mind. It was the face of someone who was
washing the dogs, covered in suds. The nonchalant
question tumbled out of his mouth.
"Nezumi, this has nothing to do with Shion, does it?"
For a brief moment, the grey eyes wavered. Inukashi's
eyes didn't miss their slight hesitation. The tip of his nose
twitched. He could smell something.
"Shion?" Nezumi raised his shoulders slightly. "Where
does Shion come into this? This has nothing to do with
him."
"Just now, you told me not to divulge information
about this job to anyone else. Do you mean that I can't tell
Shion either?"
"Of course. There's no need to involve people that
have nothing to do with this."
 "Dear, dear, aren't you the gentle one?" Inukashi
mocked. "Who knows how many dangerous jobs you've
shoved into my hands, but when it comes to Shion, oh no,
I can't get him involved. Hah, I see. I guess even you warm
up to people if you've lived with them long enough. Is that
white-headed weirdo of a little boy that precious to you?"
Nezumi vanished from before his eyes. Before he could
even utter a cry, Inukashi's body was being pushed up
against the wall, and a set of fingers were digging into his
throat.
"That's enough smart-mouthing from you," Nezumi
hissed. "Any more, and I'll make sure you can never speak
again."
"Let's see you try," Inukashi said boldly. "These guys
won't let you off for it."
Several dogs which were sprawled on the floor got to
their feet, snarling menacingly as they surrounded
Nezumi. Just as one of them bared its teeth, a small grey
shadow darted out of a corner of the room.
A strangled yelp.
The large dog that had bared its teeth raised its voice
in pain. A small mouse was latched onto its neck. The dog
writhed, violently shaking its head from side to side, but
soon collapsed forepaws-first. Its four limbs convulsed.
The other dogs retreated fearfully. Inukashi shoved
Nezumi aside, and cried out in the same strangled way his
dog did.
 "My dog, my dog!" He lifted the dog's body in his arms.
A cold voice showered over his head.
"If you don't want to end up like him, settle your other
dogs down."
"Nezumi, you fucking―"
Cheep-cheep.
The soft cry of a mouse. Inukashi lifted his face, and
his breath caught in his throat. He looked about the room,
and he was rooted to the spot. From the top of the
cabinets, from underneath the table, from the shadow of
the door, from various places in the room, countless small
grey mice were staring silently at him. All their eyes were
red, and glowed from deep within.
"Down," Inukashi commanded hoarsely. The dogs did as
they were told. They returned to their spots, and lay low
on their stomachs.
"He's not dead," Nezumi said. "He's just paralysed a
little bit. Give him twenty, thirty minutes and he'll be
fine. He's breathing properly, right?"
It was just as Nezumi had said. The dog's breathing
was laboured, but consistent. It was struggling to get to its
feet, but it looked like it had no strength to. It gave a
pitiful whimper.
"You'll pay for doing this to my dog." Just as Inukashi
clenched his fist, the door flew open with a bang. Shion
came bursting in.
 "Inukashi!" Shion stood frozen, still holding the
doorknob. His gaze slid from Inukashi, who was hugging his
dog, to Nezumi.
"Nezumi, what are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be abandoning
your workplace like that."
"Well, I heard a dog howling, and I thought I heard
Inukashi's voice too ― I thought something had happened ―
Inukashi, what's wrong with that dog?"
"He's just paralysed," Nezumi answered for him. A
brown mouse poked its head out from Nezumi's shoulder. It
jumped down on the floor, and scurried up Shion's body.
"Hamlet, did you come along too?" Shion said to it.
"Hamlet? What're you talking about?"
"It's his name. Because he likes to be read Hamlet out
loud."
Nezumi's face contorted.
"Don't go naming my mice without permission."
"Well, you wouldn't name them yourself," said Shion,
unfazed. "―He seems to like it a lot. Right, Hamlet?"
The mouse nodded its head up and down.
"Ridiculous," Nezumi spat. "So if this guy's Hamlet,
what's the other one? Othello? Macbeth?"
"Cravat."
 "Cravat? Was there a name like that in Shakespeare?"
"It's the name of a fried pastry. The colour of his fur
looks just like one. It means 'tie', because of the shape.
The dough has powdered almonds in it, and you twist it
into a tie-shape to fry―"
"I get it, that's enough," Nezumi interrupted. "You go
dream of filling your belly with those cravats, or whatever,
when you go to sleep tonight. I'm going home. Talking with
you gives me a headache."
"Are you sure it doesn't have something to do with
your nerves? You're always irritated. Maybe you're tired."
"Whose fault is it that I'm irritated all the time?
Besides, you―"
Feeling Inukashi's bewildered gaze on him, Nezumi
shut his mouth. He re-wrapped his superfibre cloth, and
strode out of the room without another word. Hamlet
nudged Shion on the cheek and chirruped once before
bounding after its master.
The grey mice that had been all over the room had
mysteriously disappeared. Inukashi let a long breath
escape his lips, and sank to the floor. The dog gave a low
growl in his arms. Shion bent down on one knee and began
inspecting the dog thoroughly.
"He looks like he's been paralysed with some sort of
drug... but his heart's beating normally, and he's not
vomiting. He should be fine."
"Really? He won't die?"
 "He'll be fine. He's only mildly paralysed. We should
give him clean water to drink. I'll go get some." Shion
filled the pail that he had been using to carry water from
the river, and brought it to the dog. The dog gulped the
water down eagerly.
"See, it looks like the numbness is almost all gone. But
this dog ― how did he get paralysed?"
"Nezumi did it."
"Nezumi? To the dog? No way."
"Yes way," Inukashi said angrily. "He did it. That
bastard paralysed my dog. He wouldn't hesitate to do
something like that. He's ruthless, cunning, and cruel. I'd
watch out if I were you. If you let his pretty face fool you
into thinking he's going to be gentle and kind like your
Mum, you're in for a nasty surprise."
"I don't think he's my mother, but I do think he's kind."
Inukashi made circles with his index finger in front of
Shion's face.
"Idiot. That's what I'm talking about when I say he's
fooled you. You're too naive to notice how heartless he is."
"Nezumi isn't heartless. He's saved my life more than
once. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have been able to
survive."
"Nezumi, help a stranger? Without anything in return?"
"For nothing in return. On the contrary," Shion said
reflectively, "I think he's brought a nuisance upon himself.
It might sound weird coming from me, but I think I'm being
quite a bit of a burden on him. After all, I don't know
anything about how to live here."
Inukashi pursed his lips. He let his gaze hover over
Shion's profile as he washed the dog's wound with water.
A nuisance? He was quite right. In these parts,
someone who was as naive and gullible as he was, and was
kind to everyone, was none other than a nuisance. And a
nuisance often became the shackles that binded the hands
and feet.
But Nezumi was living with this weirdo of a nuisance,
looking for nothing in return. He wasn't chasing Shion out
of his nest ― on the contrary, he was sheltering him there.
Why?
"Hey, Shion."
"Hm?"
"Do you two always talk like that to each other?"
"Huh? Well ― yeah, I guess. Why?"
"Because Nezumi's usually not like that. He doesn't let
his emotions show."
Shion cocked his head to the side quizzically, as if to
say, 'really?'. The dog licked the back of his hand. It was its
way of expressing gratitude for treating the wound.
Inukashi wiggled his nose and grinned. He was onto a
scent.
 Shion and that job concerning the Correctional Facility
were somehow connected. For this kid, Nezumi was
willingly stepping into dangerous territory.
Inukashi had no proof. He wasn't sure of any clear
reason for why Nezumi was doing this. But he had grasped
Nezumi's weakness now, and that was certain. My nose
doesn't lie.
Nezumi, so this oblivious weirdo is your weakness,
your Achilles' heel, huh? Heh, then things should be
interesting. You said so. Let anyone find out your
weakness, and it could cost you your life. You're damn
right. And I've got your lifeline in my hands right now. I'll
make sure you get rewarded handsomely for what you did
to me. You can count on that.
"I might be wrong, but..." Shion's voice reached his
ears. He was petting the dog, which had gotten to its feet
and was wagging its tail energetically, apparently fully
recovered from paralysis.
"Huh? Did you say something?"
"This dog ― is he related to you, by any chance?"
"Oh ―" Inukashi paused. "Yeah, he is. He's the last one
that my Mum gave birth to. She had him, and got beaten
to death shortly afterwards." There was a lapse before he
said, "How'd you know?"
"I just had a feeling," Shion said. "He has really
intelligent and compassionate eyes. It kind of reminded
me of what you said about your mother, so I wondered if I
was right."
Shion's hand stroked the dog's neck. The dog's eyes
drooped half-closed, and a quiet sigh escaped from its
mouth. From its peaceful expression it was hard to
imagine that the same dog had bared its teeth at Nezumi
earlier.
"Shion, you didn't laugh."
"Huh? About what?"
"About my Mum. Usually when I talk to people about
my Mum being a dog, they laugh, or make fun of me, or
treat me like a freak... but you ― you said my Mum was
kind and loving. You're the only one who's listened to me
without laughing or making fun of my Mum, apart from―"
Inukashi clipped his words, and swallowed hard. He
had just noticed this fact. Simultaneously, he was
overcome with a wave of agitation that threatened to
suffocate him.
Shion, still on one knee, looked up at him with a
concerned expression. Inukashi licked his dry lips, and
slowly formed the rest of his words as if tracing the thread
of his memory.
"You're the only one ― apart from Nezumi."

-- END OF CHAPTER 1 --
***
CHAPTER 2
Tranquil Scenes

I am the one without hope, the word without

echoes,
he who lost everything and he who had
everything.

Last hawser, in you creaks my last longing.

In my barren land you are the final rose.

- Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of

Despair [1]

In No. 6, those under forty years of age consisted the

majority of the age demographic. It was a young city.
Because of this, the odd elderly person she passed on the
street stood out all the more sorely.
I'd do anything to avoid growing old.
She was sick of seeing obese, white-haired women;
knobbly, wrinkly old men and the like.
The woman worked as a nurse in the Municipal Central
Hospital, which was directly managed by the Health and
Hygiene Bureau. She was currently in charge of the elderly
wing. Despite the fact that she loathed them, she had to
deal with the elderly every day.
Why do they bother even staying alive?
 The woman swept a hand through her long,
chestnut-brown hair which she prided herself upon. She
couldn't bear the thought of this hair turning white, and
having wrinkles and spots appear on her face. I'd rather
die before I end up looking like that.
She was serious. No. 6 had top-notch terminal care.
Some said that no other city could compare.
Once the elderly reached a certain age and received a
notification from the city, they were entitled to live in a
place called the Twilight Cottage, regardless of their
social class, sex, or personal history.
The Twilight Cottage was an ideal facility that the city
had built so that the elderly could spend the rest of their
lives in abundance and comfort. People said it was like
heaven for them: medical facilities for palliative care
were a given; all things that threatened to hurt them,
whether it be pain, suffering, or distress, were removed.
It was a facility under direct control of the city, and from
the woman's workplace at the Central Hospital, a few
elderly people would be escorted to Twilight Cottage each
week. It was not disclosed what age or what criteria
determined when people were sent to the Cottage.
Though not many, there were still some elderly who died
from illness or unfortunate accident even before obtaining
the right to live in the Twilight Cottage. That was why the
elderly unanimously rejoiced upon receiving news of
residency.
It was the same with the woman whose application for
residency had passed yesterday. She was ill with a disease
that had been declared incurable even by No. 6's stellar
medical technology.
"I'm so glad. Now I can spend the rest of my few years
in peace. I give my gratitude to God and the city for their
compassion."
The woman, who had said she was a strong believer in
God, had clasped her hands at her breast, and had
murmured words of prayer before leaving the hospital
wing.
The Twilight Cottage. The woman didn't know where it
was located. The city had also not disclosed its address.
But the woman had no interest whatsoever in the Twilight
Cottage.
The woman hated elderly people. Her disgust was a
side of the same coin of fear that she felt toward growing
old herself. The woman was young and beautiful. She
wanted to stay young and beautiful forever. Through her
work, she had heard rumours that the city was focusing
more than ever its medical research on understanding the
mechanism of life. She had also heard that amongst that,
the city was investing considerable funds in molecular
research having to do with ageing.
If a drug to suppress ageing were to be developed ― if
she could stay like this, and never grow old ― how
splendid it would be. She wanted them to succeed soon,
as soon as possible.
She was almost at the station. Her parents were
waiting at home, in a little house in a town two stations
away. A man and woman just entering their senior years,
they were both harpy, neurotic, and pretentious. They still
complained that their daughter had not been ranked
highest by the city in any field. She didn't want to grow
old like that.
The woman stepped into view of the reflective shop
window. I'm on my way home from work, so I guess it can't
be helped that I look a little tired. But, still beautiful. My
hair, my skin ― still youthful, still beautiful.
She would do some shopping before going home. In the
shop window, she could see the lavish dresses, tasteful
shoes, and practical pantsuits that lined the store. In this
city, she could attain whatever she desired. Of course,
they were limited to things within her financial range.
Excluding the small part of the population that
wallowed piteously in Lost Town, city residents had no
problem obtaining everything they needed, as long as they
weren't after the most premium-class things. They could
obtain clothes, food, and residence without difficulty.
It wasn't nearly as good as it was for Chronos
residents, but it was much better than the people of Lost
Town. She lived a relatively comfortable life.
The woman was satisfied with her position. She
wanted to enjoy more of her youth, her beauty, comfort,
and the life that lay ahead of her.
Her feet stopped. A pair of shoes displayed in the
window had caught her eye. They were light-pink pumps.
Winter had just begun, but the spring collection was
already being put out. The pink pumps glowed: there they
were, earlier than any other store; faster than anyone
else; ahead, ahead; forward, forward, they invited her.
The Holy Celebration was next week. It was a day that
marked the founding of the city. Parties and celebratory
events would be held all over town. The woman, too, was
planning to attend two parties.
I'll buy these shoes. And I'll buy a light-peach dress to
match. It'll look splendid on me, I just know it.
Just as a satisfied smile spread over her face, she was
struck with a sudden dizziness. After her brief bout, the
base of her neck grew hot.
What's wrong with me? ― I feel tired ― My body feels
heavy.
Her legs felt weak. She felt nauseous.
I have to rest somewhere...
She entered an alleyway between two shops. There
was supposed to be a clinic run by the Central Hospital
through this alley.
I just have to get there...
Her neck was burning. She felt like there was
something wriggling underneath her skin. She felt the
unfamiliar and disturbing sensation of her body being
wrung dry.
What―?
 She staggered, and collapsed. Her purse flew open,
and its contents scattered. The woman extended her hand
to pick her things up, and screamed when she realized
what she saw.
Spots ― black spots, like senile plaque, and several of
them, were appearing. Her skin rapidly lost moisture and
began to crack.
This can't be―what―what's happening―?
The woman snatched her mirror, and peered into it.
She shrieked again. But her voice was hoarse, and what
came out was barely a whisper.
My face― my face―
Her face, which had been so beautiful moments
before, was changing rapidly before her eyes. Wrinkles
creased her skin, spots marred it, and her hair began
falling out.
Something wriggled at the base of her neck. There was
something living inside her body. The woman, seized by
fear, realized that her body was being taken over by
something else.
No, help me― Mom―Dad― save me―
The faces of her mother and father appeared before
her eyes.
Mom, Dad...
Her fingers, extended in plea, grasped thin air.
Unconsciousness overcame her.
***
Karan sat on the bench, and heaved a sigh, one of
many she had heaved today. She knew sighing was useless.
She could cry out, she could throw herself on the ground,
but reality would not budge. It would not change. Then, at
least, she would remain defiant. She would square her
shoulders, hold her head high, and be unashamed.
That was what she thought, but shortly afterwards, a
sigh would escape her lips.
I can't do anything. I'm powerless...
Karan tried opening both hands palm-up in her lap.
The gentle rays of the winter sun shone down on her white
palms. She felt another sigh about to come.
Karan had closed her small bakery in a corner of Lost
Town today, and spent half of the day walking around. She
had embarked to visit Safu, in her and her grandmother's
house in the luxury neighbourhood of Chronos.
If residents were acknowledged by the city as being of
highest rank in one of various fields, they were permitted
to live in Chronos, regardless of sex, upbringing, or family
structure. The city provided housing, as well as an ideal
environment suited for the growth and development of
each skill.
When her son Shion had been ranked top-level for
intelligence in his Two-Year-Olds' Examinations, Karan had
also been given a residence in Chronos. Comfortable living
arrangements, and a lifetime of insurance ― as an elite,
thanks to her son, who would probably eventually work his
way up to the upper echelons of No. 6, Karan was in a
position that many envied and desired.
A position that many envied and desired ― it was a life
of comfort, free of the need to worry of tomorrow's
sorrows; free whatsoever of hunger or violence; a life
where indoor environment, security, hygiene, and physical
conditions were all monitored.
Karan slowly clenched her hand. Her fingers, which
were smooth and soft when she had lived in Chronos, had
become rough and worn from her work in Lost Town, and
her skin sometimes cracked and bled.
But until I lost Shion, I was happier than when I was
at Chronos. Much happier.
Karan had never adjusted well to a life where every
minute aspect was managed and checked upon, and had
begun to feel a sort of terror that her nerves were
unravelling. That was why, when Shion had committed a
taboo and engaged in the unbelievable act of sheltering an
escaped convict, she had felt ― more than surprise, more
than despair ― a sense of release, even. She even found
herself enjoying it.
Of course, she knew in her rational mind that it meant
all of their special privileges would be revoked, as well as
the right to live in Chronos, and that the path to Shion's
future would be closed forever. But she had still enjoyed
it.
 She wanted to praise rather than reprimand the
actions of her son, which were so foolish for one with such
a level of intelligence. Shion had thrown away his life in
Chronos so easily. Rather than his stable and insured life,
he had chosen the road to protect one who had fled into
his room one stormy night. It was a blunder, if anything.
But he had not been wrong in committing it.
It meant that Shion had also not seen much meaning in
life at Chronos. To him, it was something he could throw
easily away. He had only discarded what was meaningless
to him. And that was not wrong at all.
"Mom, I'm sorry."
On their first night moving into Lost Town,
twelve-year-old Shion had hung his head as he apologized
to his mother.
"Sorry for what?"
"Because... Mom, you... you have to go out and work
now."
Shion's crime had been assisting in hiding and aiding
the escape of a violent criminal, called a VC in No. 6. With
regards to his age, he had been let off only with exile
from Chronos. But in turn, he was forbidden to live
anywhere other than the city's lowest-class residential
area of Lost Town. Mother and son had slid from the crest
of the mountaintop to valley-bottom in a mere night. First
things first, they had to think of a means of living for the
future.
 "I'm sorry."
His drawn chin, which still carried a semblance of
boyishness, trembled. Karan wrapped her arm around her
son's shoulders in a firm embrace.
"What a stupid thing to say," she said softly. "You
shouldn't be apologizing for something like that."
"But―"
"Shion, are you Mommy, or am I? I think you've got your
roles mixed up," she scolded in mock sternness. "I'm a lot
tougher than you might think. I bet you didn't know that,
did you?"
"No."
"Then that's something you can look forward to. You'll
see how tough your mommy can be, real soon. It'll blow
you away."
In her arms, Shion gave a quiet laugh.
How many years had it been since she had last
embraced her son like this? That day, in the dark, damp
room that had once been storage for building materials,
what Karan had felt was neither despair nor woe. It was
the joy of her child's warmth in her arms, and the sense of
fulfilment only motherhood could bring.
"What kind of person was he?"
"Huh?"
 "The person you took under your wing. I was just
wondering what he was like. I'm curious to know ― but you
wouldn't tell me, right?"
Shion's body shrank away from her as if he had been
stung. His pout and his flushed cheeks struck her as so
humorous that Karan couldn't help but smile.
"G'night," Shion mumbled, and with the expression still
on his face, hastily trotted out of the room. Even after the
rickety door had closed with a loud noise, Karan was still
smiling.
She wondered what kind of boy he had been. What
kind of boy had made Shion leave Chronos behind? What
about this boy was Shion drawn to, and dazzled by?
She wanted to know, but Shion would probably never
put it into words. Children learned to hide their feelings,
or encountered something that made them, and that was
how they grew up. Maybe she would never be able to draw
her son close again like this, without hesitation.
Just as how a fully-fledged bird spreads its young
wings to leave its nest, Karan knew that she would have to
part with Shion someday. She was prepared. If she could
see her son off as he took flight, she figured it would be a
joyous thing as a mother. So starting tomorrow, she would
pour herself into work.
True to her vow, for four years at Lost Town, Karan
worked tirelessly. She started with baking bread and
selling it out on the street; eventually, she outfitted a
corner of their abode into a bakery, and increased the
variety of her goods. Her affordable and tasty breads and
cakes enjoyed popularity in Lost Town, where there were
few such luxuries. The business grew, and supported their
household of two.
Small children showed up to buy muffins, out of
breath and with coins clasped tightly in their little fists.
An elderly labourer came to buy a cake to give as a gift to
his grandchildren. There were customers that came first
thing in the morning to buy fresh loaves of bread.
Karan was satisfied with her life in Lost Town. It was
not bravado; nor was she trying to fool herself. She hadn't
a thread of attachment left for Chronos. She was working,
and reaping its rewards. It was a life that they had built
up with their own hands, with their feet firmly planted on
the ground. She desired nothing more.
Karan was, in her own way, happy ― until that day had
come.
One day, Shion had simply disappeared. He had left in
the morning for his workplace at the Forest Park
Administration Office, never to return home. This was far
from the kind of parting she had steeled herself to face as
a mother. This was no natural way to part ― it was so
irregular, so sudden, so cruel. She realized how naive and
dreamy she had been in thinking that she would see her
son off as he took flight from the parental nest.
He had been put under arrest as a suspect of a violent
crime, and been incarcerated in the Correctional Facility.
 When she had received word from the Security
Bureau, Karan experienced the full extent of the ugliness
of despair. Despair meant being spun into the folds of
deepest darkness. The darkness slithered its way into her
body, and numbed her hands and feet. How irresistible
death had seemed then.
But there was someone who had given her hope to
live. Nezumi. He had contacted her to let her know that
Shion was alive and in the West Block. He had delivered
Shion's short letter to her. How beautiful was the small
light that had glittered in the midst of her dark despair.

The hasty scribble of just a few words had become a

streak of light that tore through the darkness, and became
the voice that whispered life into her ear.
Karan opened her store, and continued to bake bread.
Until Shion came home, she would grit her teeth and wait.
She would keep waiting. Nezumi had brought her the
strength to do it. At times, she was still overwhelmed with
anxiety and the urge to scream, but Karan's daily life was
gradually regaining its stability. It was around this time
that Safu had appeared at her door.
Safu, like Shion, had also been acknowledged as
highest-ranking in intelligence. She was a girl whose large,
black eyes stood out defined on her face; and she had an
honest gaze. Safu, with few words but a strong will, had
spoke of her love for Shion, and had proclaimed that she
was going to the West Block to see him.
"It doesn't matter to me. Even if I could never come
back here again, I wouldn't regret it. If Shion is in the West
Block, that's where I'm going."
"I want to see him. I want to see Shion."
"I... I love him. From the bottom of my heart, I've
always, always, loved only him."
The sixteen-year-old girl had formed these words,
fighting back her tears; and for their simplicity and
awkwardness, they had touched Karan's heart all the
more. But moved as though she was, she could not let Safu
go to the West Block. As Shion's mother, and as grown
adult, she had to stop her.
Safu left her store, and Karan had followed shortly
afterwards. What she witnessed was the kidnapping of
Safu by Security Bureau officials.
It had already been three days since then.
"Safu..." At her wit's end, Karan let another sigh
escape her lips. She had not the faintest idea what she
was to do next. She had passed a memo to the small
messenger mouse. That was all she had done.
Would Nezumi save the girl as he did with Shion? If she
was already imprisoned in the Correctional Facility, it
seemed almost impossible to save her. If Shion found out,
and set out to the Correctional Facility to save Safu,
perhaps this time he would really be killed. Maybe I've
done something rash― There was no way Nezumi would
take such a risk to save a complete stranger. Her feelings
shredded into little ribbons, and made her fingers
tremble.
Karan had spent these past three days hardly sleeping
or eating. She was physically and mentally exhausted, and
yet was unable to stay still, and had come all the way
here, close to where Safu used to live.
The luxury neighbourhood of Chronos.
Abundant greenery, and a tranquil environment. A
fully-functioning security system. Various facilities, for
medical care, entertainment, and shopping were provided
in full, and residents could use them freely with only their
ID card. Even within the Holy City of No. 6, Chronos was of
a different class still, a residence beyond anyone's wildest
dreams.
Although Karan had been a resident here only a few
years ago, this time she was prevented from even entering
the streets. As soon as she had stepped onto the
cobblestone path that led into Chronos, the gates had
closed.
We are very sorry. Due to concerns for safety, the area
past this point is accessible to Chronos residents only.
Thank you for your understanding. Further, anyone who
passes the gates without a Entrance Permit for Special
Residential Districts issued by the authorities is subject to
removal from the premises and punishable by municipal
law Article 203 Clause 42. I repeat ― Due to concerns for
safety...
A gentle female voice flowed forth. The surveillance
camera attached to the chalk-white gates silently
captured Karan as she stood with her feet rooted to the
ground. If she remained unmoving here, the soft voice
would turn into a shrill alarm, and Security Bureau
officials would burst onto the scene. Karan had no choice
but to turn her back on the gate, bite her lip, and go back
the way she had come.
And now, in a corner of the Forest Park, she was
sitting on a bench under a large tree that had lost all of its
leaves. She sat, staring absently down at her hands.
"Shion... Safu..."
Why am I so powerless? I've been living for decades,
I'm a parent, I'm an adult, and I can't even help two young
people who are in the middle of a crisis. I've been alive
for so long, and yet―
Karan lifted her face. An emotion quite different from
dread or anxiety flitted across a corner of her heart. In
the years that No. 6 shaped itself and began maturing as
an independent city, Karan lived in its interior as a
resident.
Six cities were founded in this world, building upon
the numerous blunders that humankind had caused. It was
a place free of war or hunger, and people could live here
in peace and freedom. Here, the people could live from
birth to death in safety, bliss, and tranquility. That was
how it was supposed to be. She had never thought deeply
about it. Everyone thought that as long as they stayed in
No. 6, they would be promised a fulfilling life.
They thought ― they had thought ― they had been
taught into thinking.
She clenched her fingers, and bit her lip harder.
This is all a lie. Everything― it's all just an
appearance.
She whispered without putting it into words. Though it
was on the verge of winter, she was starting to perspire.
They were divided into countless classes by their ID
chips so that they weren't even free to travel inside the
city. Her son had been taken forcibly into custody, and she
was not permitted even to make a formal objection. She
couldn't even confirm the safety of another resident who
had been seized by the authorities. Where was freedom?
Where was peace, safety, and a life of fulfilment? It was
nowhere.
If that's true, then what have we been doing all this
time? Why have we created a city like this? What have we
done ― where have we gone wrong?
"Excuse me―"
Karan was jolted abruptly back to reality by a voice.
"I'm sorry. Did I surprise you?" An elderly lady wearing a
small, light-blue hat was smiling at her. It was a face she
didn't know.
 "Ah―oh no, it's nothing," Karan said hurriedly. "I'm
sorry, I was just lost a little in thought... is there
something―?"
"Would you mind if I sat down beside you?"
"Not at all― please."
The woman, still smiling, lowered herself into her seat
beside Karan.
"What splendid weather it is, don't you think? So nice."
"Yes, it is." The weather was the last thing on her
mind. For the past few days, she had felt nothing in the
colour of the sky, the sound of the wind, or the sight of
the trees.
"You must have thought me a rather rude old crone for
suddenly speaking to you like that, I suppose?" the woman
said mildly.
"No no, of course not. I was just a little surprised. I
was thinking about something, and I hadn't noticed that
you were standing there."
The madam pushed her round spectacles up her nose,
and her face turned serious.
"You see, that's exactly why I decided to speak to you."
"I'm sorry?"
The woman was wearing a silver ring. Her fingers
extended to clasp around Karan's hand.
 "Please, I don't want you to be offended. I know very
well that I'm being meddlesome." She hesitated. "But you
had such a forlorn look on your face, I just couldn't go
without doing something."
Oh, Karan said softly, her hands still clasped in the
woman's.
"And that was why you took the time to speak to me?"
"Oh yes. There you were, on such a fine day, on such a
splendid afternoon, looking as troubled as ever. You were
sitting alone, limp on the bench, with your head bowed.
There was no way I couldn't go without saying something."
The elderly woman tightened her fingers around
Karan's hands, and wrapped them tenderly in her own
hands.
"Why is a lady so young and beautiful as you, sitting
with such a face? Has something happened?"
The pair of eyes behind the spectacles were soothing
and gentle. Above their heads, the branches of a beech
tree were swaying.
"Thank you for your concern. I've just been going
through a bit of trouble..."
"Yes, I understand," the woman said sympathetically.
"There was a time in my life, too, when I was burdened
terribly with troubles." Her aged but dignified
countenance clouded slightly. Karan's heart leapt for an
instant.
 Were there other people brooding like her? Were other
people suffering like her? Had other people realized the
city's contradictions as well?
"It was devastating, even though it happened decades
ago. ―I lost my son to an illness."
"My, an illness," murmured Karan.
"Yes, and he was only three. When he died, I still
remember crying uncontrollably when I saw how small his
coffin was. You would understand, wouldn't you, the
feelings of a mother who's lost her son?"
Karan tried to nod, and drew her chin back just in
time. Shion was still alive. I haven't lost my son yet.
"I can't quite say that I do understand―" she said
slowly, "but you must have suffered so."
"Indeed, I did. Words couldn't describe what I went
through. Many times, I thought how much better it would
be if I were dead. But now, I'm glad I'm alive. I couldn't be
happier, living in such a brilliant city, surrounded by my
children and grandchildren."
The woman smiled, and cast her gaze around her.
"I would've wanted my son to experience growing up
here. No― if medical care at No. 6 had been what it is
now, I'm sure he wouldn't have had to die."
Karan softly drew her hand back. The elderly madam's
gaze wandered into the sky as she continued talking. Her
lips were still turned up in a vague smile.
 "I really do think this place is a utopia. You know, I say
this to my grandchildren very often. I say, you must be
grateful for being born here. They just look puzzled, of
course ― but that's when I tell them about the West
Block."
"The West Block?" Karan's heart quickened again, for
an entirely different reason this time.
"Yes, the West Block. Do you know what sort of place
it is?"
Karan leaned forward. She wanted to know. The West
Block was where Shion was, and she wanted to know the
details, what sort of place it was.
"I haven't the faintest idea. Please tell me."
The lady furrowed her brow, and shook her head.
"I don't know much about it, myself. But my nephew
works at the Access Control Office, and I hear stories from
him sometimes. It's a horrible place, I hear."
Karan restrained her impatient heart, and murmured
in assent. She wanted to encourage the madam to
continue her story.
"The hygiene there is absolutely atrocious, and I hear
the children have to drink contaminated water."
"Contaminated..."
"Yes, isn't it just horrid? I feel such pity for them, my
heart aches. Compared to that, the children in this city
couldn't be happier. Wouldn't you agree?"
 "What? I mean― yes, but..."
"That's why over there, they're plagued with
contagious diseases all the time, ones we could never
imagine within No. 6. Crime is a daily occurrence, and
safety is almost nonexistent. The residents of that Block
are all uneducated, savage, and most will even kill a man
without batting an eye if it means money for them. Just
recently, I heard a group of violent men tried to force
their way into the Control Office. Of course, since their
security system was perfect, they were arrested before
they even set foot inside. It's frightening, really."
The lady wrapped her arms around herself and
shivered.
"My nephew told me the place is like a hell, the
basest, worst possible environment. It must be ever so
different from here. We must rejoice too, that we're
residents of No. 6 ― not just our children. As for myself,
I'm not afraid to tell my grandchildren how fortunate they
are as No. 6 residents, compared to the West Block."
The West Block. The basest, worst possible
environment.
Karan closed her eyes. Shion's handwriting floated up
in her mind. It was a mere scribble, and only one line
long. It was a slightly slanted, distinctive hand.
 The letters were brimming with energy. It was writing
that radiated youthful vigour for life. He was alive in the
West Block. Ever so strongly, even now, he was continuing
to live on.
"Is something the matter?"
She opened her eyes at the elderly lady's words.
"Are you feeling ill? Shall I contact the Health and
Hygiene Bureau?"
Karan slowly shook her head.
"I don't think so."
"Pardon me?"
"I don't think the West Block is the basest, nor the
worst."
"Why, what―"
"And I don't think―"
I don't think this city is a utopia, either.
Just as she was about to say those words, there was a
sound, a flurry of beating wings, and a black object came
flying at her from above.

***

The elderly woman gave a small cry.

"Heavens, a crow!"
 A crow with glossy black wings had alighted on the
ground at Karan's feet.
"How disturbing," the woman said uneasily. "Were
there ever any crows in the Forest Park?" She furrowed her
brow.
"This is a natural environment after all. There are
crows, though probably not many of them," Karan replied.
The crow took flight again. She thought it would fly away,
but instead, it flapped its wings busily and alighted again,
onto a man's shoulder.
It was Karan who gave a cry of surprise this time. She
had not noticed at all that there was somebody standing
this close by. During her conversation with the elderly
woman, there had been other passerby: an elderly man
with his dog; a girl stooping to pick up a coloured leaf; a
group of what looked to be students ― but no one with a
crow on their shoulder. When had he gotten so close? How
long had he been there? It was a little unnerving.
The man was tall and wiry, and clad in a light-brown
jacket, with trousers of the same colour. He had a full
head of hair, but with streaks of grey that stood out. His
moustache was also flecked with grey. Apart from the fact
that he had a crow perched on his shoulder, he seemed
like an ordinary middle-aged man. And he was a complete
stranger.
But the man extended both his hands toward Karan
with a smile on his face. He even called her name as he
spoke.
 "Karan, I missed you."
"Huh?"
Before she could give a decent answer, the man
grabbed Karan by the arm, and drew her toward him.
Karan's small stature nestled easily into the man's long
arms as they encircled her. He was holding her so tight,
she couldn't breathe.
"Forgive me," he pleaded. "It's all my fault. I'll never
do anything that'll make you feel bad again. I promise.
You'll be the only one I love for the rest of my life."
"Sorry, what―?" Karan stammered in alarm. "What are
you doing?"
"I didn't realize how much I loved you until you were
gone. Please, I'm begging you. Say you'll start over with
me again, Karan."
Why, he's gone mad.
Her first thought was that he was out of his mind. But
if someone was insane, they wouldn't be able to roam on
city premises. Just as the thought crossed her mind, she
noticed the man's heartbeat. They were so close to each
other that she could feel his heart beating on her own
chest. It was beating with a steady rhythm. The man was
neither insane, nor nervous with excitement. He was very
much coolly and calmly rattling off these clichéd lines.
"I don't believe this. I've had enough!" Karan thrust her
arms in front of her, and pushed the man away. "I've had
enough of your sweet-talking. I'm leaving you. I never
want to see you again."
"Karan, I love you. I'm really, seriously, in love with
you." The crow on the man's shoulder cawed shrilly, as if
to mock them. The man cleared his throat awkwardly, and
bowed his head to the elderly lady, who was staring at
them with her mouth gaping open.
"I'm very sorry for having to show you such an ugly
scene."
"Oh― ah, you don't need to―" the woman said
falteringly. "So, er, you two are―?"
"We're lovers," the man answered. "I was a fool, and I
caused her a lot of pain. I just wanted to apologize to her,
and start over again."
"I see. Well, that's..."
"We've got some important things to discuss, so if
you'll excuse us―"
The man grabbed Karan's arm, and she was
half-dragged away from the scene. The crow cawed loudly
again. They took a back route behind the Park Office ―
Shion's former workplace ― and exited through the back of
the park, the man uttering not a single word the whole
way. Karan also remained silent as she was pulled along by
the arm.
There was a white car parked at the curb. It was a
rather old model, seldom seen on city streets anymore.
The man opened the door, and spoke quite without any
hesitation.
"Get in."
"No, thank you."
"Get in," the man repeated. "I have something I want
to talk to you about." With a great swoosh of its wings, the
crow swooped noisily from the man's shoulder to the back
seat of the car. Then, it looked at Karan and jerked its
head, as if to invite her to follow.
"He looks like a smart bird," Karan observed.
"He's a little too smart for his own good." The man's
long-suffering tone was telling of how much trouble the
bird must have caused him. The crow opened its beak
widely and made a cackling sound. It sounded like it was
laughing. Karan, found herself laughing a little, too. Only
after she finished laughing did she realize how she had
gone these past few days without laughing, or even
smiling at all.
Karan continued holding the crow's gaze as she slid
into the passenger seat. The electric-gasoline hybrid car
glided forward soundlessly. When they merged onto the
highway, the man pressed the switch on auto-drive and
took his hands off the steering wheel.
"Did you know? A new bylaw is being put into place,
and we won't be able to use gasoline starting as early as
next year. Which means I won't be able to drive this car
anymore either."
 "I've heard that fossil fuels have nearly been depleted,
except for coal," said Karan. "I guess we wouldn't have any
other choice but to switch to another energy source."
"Who did you hear that from?"
"Who―? Well, it's been announced in the city's energy
policy―"
"Exactly. An announcement by the authorities. The
mayor's speech on his administrative policy,
word-for-word." The man twitched his moustache in a
cynical smile. "No one questions it. Everyone accepts what
the city announces as it is, and agrees to it without a
thought. God, everyone in this damn city is so obedient
and naive. Doubting their superiors is the last thing on
their minds. They probably can't even imagine doing that,
or want to. Having suspicions takes energy. It's easier just
to sit back and say, yes yes, I agree, to everything."
Karan threw a sidelong glance at the man's face.
Then are you saying that you have suspicions? Instead
of nodding obediently, are you saying you're stopping to
question it?
She resisted the urge to ask him. It wasn't wise to say
such reckless things to someone she barely knew. She had
to be cautious, like a cowering herbivore.
Karan drew herself up, and tried to change the
direction of the conversation.
"May I ask you a question?"
 "Fire away."
"Who are you, and how do you know my name? What
made you go so far as to stage that half-baked act to pull
me out here?"
"Half-baked is a little harsh, no?" said the man wryly. "I
thought I pulled it off quite well. You played along nicely,
too. That's Best Actress Award material."
"Why, thank you," Karan said pleasantly. "The role of
romantic heroine isn't one I get to play often at this age."
"Well, I don't see why not. You're young and beautiful
enough, quite, quite. You could play any heroine you
wanted, Karan."
"Where did you learn my name?"
"From my niece."
"Niece?"
"Says she's a fan of yours," said the man. "Or I should
probably say, a fan of your muffins."
A small, round face floated up in Karan's mind ― the
girl who always came to the store with coins clenched in
her fist.
"Ma'am, you won't close this bakery, would you?" ― The
girl who had shown sincere concern for Karan. She, along
with the words and gazes of encouragement from others,
had supported her in her dark days after Shion had been
taken into custody by the Security Bureau.
"Lili."
 "That's the one," the man affirmed. "Lovable Lili. She's
my younger sister's daughter. Says she likes your cheese
muffins a hundred times more than ol' Uncle here. She
told me last time I saw her."
"Oh, dear."
"I was ticked off, so I was going to put in my own
two-cents about these muffins of yours, and took a bite
out of one to taste..." The man's mouth made a chewing
motion. He poked the tip of his tongue out, and licked his
lips.
"They were good, weren't they?"
"They were. I hate to admit it, but they were
delicious. Guess it can't be helped that Lili would like
them more than some old uncle who only pops by once in
a while."
"Well," said Karan, "at least now I know that you're
Lili's uncle, and that you learned my name from that
adorable niece of yours."
"Thanks for understanding. Did you think I was
someone suspicious, by any chance?"
"I still do. What was that act back there? Did you want
to pull me away from that respectable madam that badly?"
"You bet. She was dangerous."
"Dangerous?"
 The car turned slowly. It was going into Lost Town. It
seemed safe to believe that this man intended to take her
home.
The old car went back along the same path she had
taken this morning, deep in thought. She had taken a day
off from the bakery today. Was Lili disappointed?
"You were a hair away from voicing your dissatisfaction
toward the city. Am I right?"
I don't think this city is a utopia.
Indeed, she had been about to voice those words. But
she had been interrupted at that very moment by the
sound of the crow's beating wings.
"That was dangerous?"
"There's a possibility it might've been. What would you
have done if that lady decided you were trouble?"
"Trouble? What do you mean?"
"What I'm saying is, she would've gone to the
authorities and told them that the women sitting on the
park bench has a dissatisfaction with the city."
"You mean she would secretly turn me in?"
"Finding it hard to believe?"
"Of course," Karan blurted. "That's nonsense. That
madam was concerned about me. She spoke to me out of
kindness."
 "Exactly, because you looked so depressed. In this
utopia, in No. 6, everyone has to be happy. Even seriously
ill or injured people have almost all of their pain removed
by leading-edge medical technology. People who are
troubled, or who contemplate, or who lose themselves in
thought ― those kinds of people don't exist. They aren't
allowed to exist."
"That's not―" Karan protested. "I mean, there are
always people on the bench who seem to be lost in
thought."
The man shook his head, and tapped a corner of the
small monitor on the dashboard that was displaying road
information. Small digits expressing the time popped up
on the screen.
"Do you remember how long you were sitting on that
bench for?"
Karan gazed at the numbers, and shook her head. She
had forgotten completely about the time. She had sat on
that bench, contemplating, wrestling with her thoughts,
and unable to find an answer. She had lost the will to
stand up and keep walking.
"Your time limit is thirty minutes," the man muttered.
"Huh?"
"Citizens are allowed to space out for thirty minutes,
at the most. If they're thinking deeply or losing themselves
in thought for longer than that, the flags come up and
someone'll jump in to check."
 "So you're saying ― that madam approached me to
investigate, because I was brooding for such a long time?"
"I couldn't say," the man answered. "All I know is that
there was a possibility. Maybe she was just a little old
woman who thought she was being kind and generous ―
the kind that won't mind doing something nice, as long as
it's not too much trouble for them."
"What a horrible way to put it."
"It's the truth. This city is teeming with those kind of
self-proclaimed good Samaritans. There are so many of
them, it gets pretty hard to distinguish the ones that are
actually good. Still, if that madam was one of those, it
wouldn't be a problem. But what if she was a snitch? That
would've been a close call for you, wouldn't it?"
Karan didn't answer him. She didn't want to be
suspicious of the elderly madam. She wanted to believe
that the woman had been a kind soul who had spoken to
her, a stranger, out of genuine concern.
She had had such gentle eyes, smiling behind her
spectacles―
Karan drew a sharp breath.
"Those glasses..."
"You've finally noticed? They were a little big and
clunky for a sophisticated madam like her, don't you think?
Maybe they were built in with a microphone and recording
device."
 Karan closed her eyes, and let out a long breath.
Thirty minutes was her time limit. She was not
allowed any more.
To contemplate deeply; to wrestle with one's thoughts;
to immerse oneself in the realm of one's mind; and from
there, to find one's own answer ― it was all prohibited.
The same question welled up inside her breast again.
What have we been doing all this time? Why have we
created a city like this? Where have we gone wrong?
She swallowed her sigh. She felt exhausted, and felt
as if the mental will to retaliate, and the strength to
become angry, had all withered within her.
"I've probably been tracked by the authorities all this
time," she said quietly. "They must have been keeping me
under surveillance, and not only because I was lost in
thought. I am the mother of a convicted murderer, after
all."
"There'll be none of that," the man said sharply. "No
putting yourself down." His tone was that of a father
scolding his daughter. "Do you really think your son is a
criminal, like the authorities have told you?"
Karan lifted her gaze off the floor, and shook her
head. She had not believed for an instant that her son had
murdered someone.
"This is also something I heard from Lili," continued
the man. "She says your son ― name's Shion, right? ― says
he's really nice. When she'd break her toys, he'd always fix
them for her. Says she likes him a lot more than Uncle
here, though not as much as your muffins. She was
wondering if he had a girlfriend."
"Was she? Oh, dear," Karan said, with a hint of a smile
in her voice.
"Cheeky, huh? Acting older than her age. But for all it's
worth, she can't seem to realize how attractive her own
uncle can be. Don't know how my sister raised her, for her
to turn out like that."
"And if I ask Lili, would I be able to find out what
name this attractive uncle of hers goes by, and what he
does?"
The man laughed at Karan's words, and tapped the
panel lightly again.
"God knows what might happen if you asked Lili. She'd
probably tell you that Uncle Yoming is a weird man who
wanders by the house once in a while, eats 'til he's full,
and scoots out of the place."
"Yoming. That's your name."
"Yeah. And this is my job."
The panel filled with images of bread, cakes and other
light fare, followed by caloric content and nutritional
information, price, and name of the stores that served
them.
 "I run an electronic newsfeed for all sorts of
entertainment in the areas, all of them except Chronos.
Which isn't much, I mean, apart from dining and seasonal
events, which is mostly what I do. Since the city oversees
all the plays, concerts and print publishing, there's not
much we can write about other than food and drink. The
Food Bureau's out of the question, no way I could get
inside that place ― so it's just stuff like where to eat good
cakes, or good places to have lunch, or things like that. I
do the best I can. It's actually quite popular. I mean, after
all, in Lost Town, there's not much to do for fun other than
eat or drink, so everyone's eager for information."
"Then by any chance, are you―"
"Right on," the man said energetically. "I want to run a
feature on your bakery's breads and cakes, with a spotlight
on the muffins. Will you let me interview you?"
"Are you sure you want to write about my shop?" Karan
said worriedly. "Won't the authorities turn their eye on you
too?"
"I don't care if the authorities turn their eye on me, or
want to trip me up, what-have-you. I can't let those
delicious muffins go without any publicity." He paused.
"Though Lili probably wouldn't be too happy if a crowd of
customers came and cleaned out your muffins. Uncle, you
never do anything right, she'd probably say."
"Never," smiled Karan. "―But my bakery's been on the
news before, with my son's incident, and all. People from
Lost Town might still come ― but what about people from
other areas?"
Yoming shrugged his shoulders, and erased the image
on the touch-panel screen.
"Karan, the people of this city aren't very good at
remembering things." His voice was hoarse, and hard to
catch.
"They forget everything at the blink of an eye. No
matter how serious an incident. Gone. What's more, they
don't even see the possibility that there might be
something underneath the surface. Remembering,
doubting, contemplating. It's hard for them to do. But
they don't even have to do it ― the day still goes on, and
peacefully, too. It's a terrifying place, this."
Yoming's words sounded so much like an open criticism
of the present condition that Karan found herself
straightening in her seat. If this conversation reached
outside ears, that would be more terrifying than anything.
As if perceiving Karan's agitation, Yoming relaxed his face
in a smile and waved his hand nonchalantly.
"Don't worry. This car is equipped with an anti-tapping
device. But who knows, maybe all the new cars rolling out
next year will have tapping devices built right into them."
"Yoming, why are you so critical of the city? How can
you be so certain that this is a frightening place?"
After a brief silence, Yoming tapped the touch-screen
three times.
 The image of a young, delicate-faced woman
appeared. A baby was sleeping in her arms, bundled in a
white blanket. The woman's smile was filled with the bliss
of motherhood. Her chestnut hair, cropped in a short bob,
framed her alert and energetic face, and her gentle smile
was memorable.
"My wife. That's our son in her arms. This picture is
from a long time ago."
"Did something happen to your―?"
"Same as with your son, she left the house one day and
never came back. The only thing that's different from your
case is that she disappeared along with our son, and that
she was filed away as a missing person."
Karan's breath caught in her throat. Yoming's calm and
levelled way of speaking made the fact even more
shocking.
It's the same as Shion― there's someone who's been
through the same thing―
"She was a school teacher," Yoming said quietly. "She
taught art and music to kids like Lili. Said no other job
could suit her better. She always told the kids to cherish
what they felt in their hearts. Whether it be for drawing a
picture, or writing a song, she said the most important
thing was to look straight at your feeling and emotions,
and express them truthfully."
"That's beautiful," Karan breathed. "I don't think I've
heard such touching words in a long time."
 "Yeah. She was an admirable woman, touched a lot of
people. She had firm beliefs, and taught her children
based on those. But she started getting more and more
stern warnings and directions from the Education
Bureau... they told her to teach the kids strictly by the
book. The book that they'd published, of course. Naturally,
she resisted― and she got fired from her workplace. She
got her license revoked too, because they deemed her as
unfit for teaching. I think during that time, there were
quite a few teachers like her who were removed from
their jobs. You didn't know, did you?"
"I had no idea― I can't even remember..."
"No need to be ashamed. It's natural you shouldn't
know," Yoming said grimly. "It didn't make the news. The
authorities were already starting to manipulate
information by that time. There you had the seeds of a
system that would eventually prevent anything
inconvenient from being publicized as tangible
information."
The car was already entering Lost Town. This district
was always the least-maintained and the last to be
updated in its facilities, and was an area of haphazard
mish-mash. Amidst its restless buzz, Karan found herself
sighing a breath of relief.
"She was planning to build a school for children, with
other exiled teachers ― she was trying to teach in a place
where the authorities would have less influence. She'd left
for a meeting to discuss plans for the school that day ―
and she never came back."
 Yoming clenched his fist, and pounded the steering
wheel. The crow cried plaintively in the back seat.
"I'll never forget," he said through clenched teeth. "No
matter what happens, I'll never forget. I'll keep it alive in
my memory. It was cloudy that morning, and it looked like
it would rain any minute. I'd gone to the dentist because
my toothache was getting unbearable. I was off work that
day, so I should have been the one babysitting our son at
home. But she took him with her so I wouldn't have to. She
put him on a stroller with a blue hood, and she was
wearing a beige jacket. There were small embroidered
flowers on the chest. We promised that if my toothache
settled down in the afternoon, and it didn't rain, we'd go
out to the Forest Park to take a walk. At the door, we
kissed and said goodbye. I kissed my son on the cheek,
too. He laughed, and kicked his feet. He was wearing tiny
little white socks. There were flowery patterns sewn on
them too. They were purple violets. I still remember. I still
haven't forgotten a single thing. I could never forget."
"Yoming..."
The car stopped.
You have arrived at your destination, announced the
car navigator. They were in front of Karan's bakery.
"I'm sorry, I got a little worked up," Yoming said. "Rude
of me, since we've only just met."
"No―" Karan said softly. "Thank you for bringing me
home."
 She paused uncertainly. She questioned herself
whether it would be alright to tell him about Safu. She
was unable to decide whether she could completely trust
the man in front of her.
"Ma'am!"
Someone rammed full-speed into Karan's waist as she
got out of the car.
"My, Lili."
"Ma'am, why did you take a day off today? Are you
sick?"
Yoming called over from inside the car.
"Lili, she's fine. Madam here just had some errands to
run. She'll bake muffins for you tomorrow, I'm sure."
Lili blinked, and her mouth gaped open.
"Hey, is that you, Uncle Yoming? Did you come to eat
dinner again? Why do you always come when we're having
chicken and mushrooms?"
"See, this is what I get. Horrible, isn't it?" Yoming
smiled wryly, and leaned forward to peer into Karan's
face. "If you can, open your bakery again tomorrow. And
keep on at it. You've got a job to do, Karan."
"Of course."
"Never despair. You can't give up, no matter what. It's
only when you despair and decide that there's nothing you
can do, that you really lose. It might seem easier to just
give up―"
 Karan placed a hand on top of Lili's head, and shook
her head firmly.
"No, I won't give up. I have my responsibilities."
"Responsibilities?"
"Yes. I'm a grown adult, and I've been living alongside
this city for a long time. I've done my best to live
respectably, but if the result of that is what this city has
become ― then we've made a huge mistake somewhere
along the way. I'm not sure where we've made it ― but I
know I've got to take responsibility for it. We can't let
children like Lili suffer because of a crime that's not their
own, right?"
"Shh―!" Yoming lifted a warning finger. A young woman
on a bicycle sped past the car. "I understand how you feel,
but don't say those kind of things out loud here. You don't
know who might be listening."
Lili giggled, and pulled at Karan's skirt.
"Uncle Yo's always being cautious. He's a scaredy-cat,
even though he's a grown-up."
"When you grow up, Lili, you'll start to understand
what the really scary things are."
"Well, I think Mommy is the scariest when she's angry,"
Lili said matter-of-factly. "She's really scary, you know.
Daddy says he's scared of Mommy the most, too."
"Ah, that's right, of course," Yoming replied gravely. "I
agree, your Mommy can be very scary."
 Karan burst out laughing. Lili's mother would often
scold her children in a booming voice that was hard to
imagine coming from her slender frame.
"Lili, Yoming, and Mr. Crow, too ― if you have time to
spare, how would you like to stop by for a bit? I wouldn't
be able to serve you muffins, but I could whip up some
pancakes."
"Really? Yay!" Lili clasped Karan's hand tightly. Her
hands were soft. Karan's heart swelled with an outpouring
of love.
I can't let this little girl go through what Shion and
Safu did. And I must save those two, somehow. Yes ― we
have a responsibility to fulfill.
Her eyes met with Yoming's. They stared back at her,
the colour of crow's feathers. Karan nodded, and unlocked
the door.
"Lili, come in. You too, Yoming. I still have things to
speak to you about."
Just then, a small black spot flitted across her vision.
She heard the buzz of wings.
"What's wrong?" Yoming followed Karan's gaze and
glanced around as he got out of the car.
"There was an insect ― I thought I saw a bee flying
around."
"Bee? It might be warm still, but I don't think they
should be active anymore."
 "I guess you're right."
It was winter. There was no way bees would be flying
around. Even if there were, it was probably a single insect
that had wandered out into the air, drawn by the sunlight
and warmth. But she could not shake the foreboding
feeling in her heart.
"Ma'am?"
Lili stared up at her from below as she stood still in
the doorway.
"Oh, sorry about that. Come on in."
My nerves are just on-edge. I must be tired. Karan
reassured herself, and opened the door. She stepped
inside, and shook her head violently, as if brushing away
the buzzing sound that had lodged itself in her ears.

-- END OF CHAPTER 2 --
CHAPTER 3
Land's End

Humans were born from the eye of Ra. Ra was the

creator of heaven, earth, and all things. Since he
was the Sun, and also the ruler of the gods, it was
decided that he would become the first King on
earth.
-Egyptian myth 'The Beginning of Heaven and
Earth' [1]
 It was blurry. Everything was veiled in a haze, and
vague.
But I have to wake up...
Safu struggled to open her eyes. She bit her lip as hard
as she could. There was a slight pain. She could feel her
sensations returning.
Safu realized that she was bound to a stretcher. A
white door opened, and she was carted inside. In her
blurry vision, she could not make out what was there. She
felt her body gliding sideways.
"Ah, are we awake?" It was a man's voice. "No need to
be, though. Let's give you an anaesthetic, shall we? Then
you can sleep again in peace."
"Where... am I...?"
"Care to take a guess?"
What's wrong with me? What happened―? I visited
Shion's house, and then―
There was a man in a Security Bureau uniform.
'Are you Safu-san?'
The shock in her neck. The numbness that had spread
through her body.
Safu almost shrieked in terror. Her lips parted, but no
sound came out. Her voice was stuck at the back of her
throat.
"Correc...tional... Facility..."
 High-pitched laughter rang out. The man was laughing.
"Do you fancy the Correctional Facility? It seems you've
taken a liking to it. I know, once this surgery is over, you
can live in your own special suite until you die. I'll have it
all arranged."
Surgery?
"Surg..."
"Yes. You're lying on a surgical table." The man's voice
was still filled with mirth. A white glare filled her vision.
Safu took it to be the light of a surgical lamp. She was
pierced with horror ― stronger than the horror that had
seized her when she had been apprehended by the
Security Bureau.
A tear spilled from her eye.
"There's nothing to cry about. There will be no pain, or
discomfort. Good night, now."
Shion. Shion. Shion.
This name will protect me from all evil things.
He'll save me. He'll rescue me, and get me out of
here ― Shion.

"Shion."
His name was called. Shion stopped his feet. His
guard, a large dog, gave a low growl.
"Rikiga-san."
 Rikiga was exiting a shabby restaurant through its
rickety glass door. Shabby as it was, it was one of the
more decent establishments in the West Block's bazaar.
Most establishments of these sort were clusters of barrels
and crates placed outside to sit on, and the dishes were
all of an unidentifiable origin. The stench of strong spirits
and some mysterious stew wafted out from these stands
out into the street, and Shion often found himself pinching
his nose. But even so, starving children and old beggars
milled about the shops, some wandering in hopes of
receiving food, others staring fixedly at the adults bringing
their food to their mouths. A shop owner raised his voice
angrily, splashing water outside his storefront, and chased
the people away as if they were stray dogs or cats.
And in front of these starving people, those who had
been able to get their hands on the day's sustenance sank
their teeth into their food, dripped grease over their
mouths, and licked their fingers.
To have money, and to have power.
To have food meant to fulfil these conditions.
Shion had learned this from these few days here. But
he still could not get used to it. He couldn't bear to look at
the scene before him. He couldn't help but avert his gaze,
and look at the ground.
"If it makes you feel better, then give them a handout.
But only if you can fill the belly of every single person
there," Nezumi had said. For Shion at the present, it was
an impossible task.
 "What can you do with your half-hearted sympathy?
You might be able to save a handful of kids from
starvation, for a short time. But that just means you're
creating two new types of people― those who are
starving, and those who aren't. Let me tell you something
interesting, Shion. It's more excruciating for people who've
filled their belly once to starve, than for people who have
never been full at all. Nothing is more harsh than
starvation after satiation. These kids here have never
eaten until they're full. They don't know what it's like to
be satisfied. That's why they can put up with it.
Understand? There's nothing you can do here, absolutely
nothing."
Nezumi had spat those words, and strode out of the
room. But before that, he had stopped abruptly before the
door, and turned around. A brown dog was sprawled off to
the side.
"So Inukashi's lent this dog to you as your bodyguard,
huh? And I hear your wages were a little more flush than
usual. Looks like you've become his favourite."
"He says he'll let me continue working for him. He
asked me to clean the guest rooms and take care of the
dogs."
"And you took the job?"
"Of course," Shion replied enthusiastically. "I was so
happy, I thanked him over and over again."
Nezumi sneered.
 "Will you look at that. Mr. No. 6 Elite is rejoicing over
a housecleaning and dogkeeping job. It should be
interesting to see how much lower you're going to stoop."
"I don't think I'm stooping," Shion said promptly. "You'd
agree, wouldn't you? You don't think this is stooping at all."
Nezumi's shapely face contorted slightly. He hunched
his shoulders.
"Oh yeah, Shion. You got paid by Inukashi today, didn't
you? Go out and buy some dried meat and bread."
"At the market?"
"You don't know any other place to buy food, do you?"
Nezumi said sarcastically.
"Well―yeah, but..."
"Dried meat and bread. Inspect it carefully when they
give it to you. Space out like you usually do, and you'll be
stuck with a mouldy brick of a loaf. And haggle. Haggle
like no tomorrow. I'm off."
The door closed, and his footsteps faded into the
distance.
He would have to buy dried meat and bread in front of
those children.
Nezumi had told him to.
Dried meat, and bread.
Shion's stomach growled insistently. His mouth
watered. He had had only the slice of bread and fruits
that Inukashi had given him at noon. He was terribly
hungry. He had not eaten any meat, nor soft bread, for
days.
His stomach growled, his mouth watered.
He wanted to eat. He wanted to sate his empty
stomach.
Shion sighed, and pulled his hat further down over his
head.
What can you do with your half-hearted sympathy?
He recalled Nezumi's words again and again.
You're right. I can't do anything. I'm just pretending to
pity those kids to boost my self-respect. The truth is that
I'm about to buy meat and bread, right in front of those
children, to satisfy my own hunger. That's my true form ―
that's the kind of person I am. Nezumi, is that what you
meant?
There were a few coins in his pocket. It was his day's
payment that he had received from Inukashi.
"Part of that is a thank-you for treating my brother. I
can't always pay you this much." Inukashi had said this
rather curtly, but Shion was grateful for his kindness. It
may have been quite a large amount for a day's worth of
work. But even so, it was enough to cover only a few
strips of dried meat and two or three loaves of mouldy
bread. There was almost no food left in their room,
otherwise buried in books. He wouldn't be able to live off
Nezumi's goodwill forever. He had to secure a means of
providing for himself, however little it was.
Shion pushed the door open, and stepped outside. The
dog slowly got to its feet, and trailed after him. When
Shion set foot into the market street, it drew up to Shion's
side and kept pace with him closely. He was trained well.
It was apparent that Inukashi had quite a hand with his
dogs. Shion smiled sheepishly as he caught himself, yet
again, being surprised or impressed like with so many
other things since coming to the West Block.
It was already dusk. Darkness was setting in, and the
cooing and bellowing of voices echoed even more loudly in
the air. Under ripped tents, and in front of barracks,
people sold and bought things, ate, and drank. As soon as
the warmth of the afternoon slipped beneath the horizon,
the ground beneath them grew colder by the minute.
Business was probably booming at Inukashi's hotel. For
those who had nowhere warm to sleep, it was going to be
an unpleasant night. Bare-breasted women called out from
the darkness of the alleyways, and old women clad in rags
huddled on the ground in the same darkness. Children
trotted about, nimbly threading through the crowd, and
being yelled at occasionally. And still people bought and
sold, ate, and drank.
Don't know what waits for me tomorrow. But at
least I've lived through today.
So I'll eat. So I'll drink. Here, it's everything we've
got.
 All the things I've said, can't enjoy 'em once I'm
dead
So I'm alive an' enjoyin' 'em today.
That's everything. Here, it's everything. My
everything.
Someone was singing off-key. Shion paused, and tilted
an ear to the voice. He hugged the parcel of dried meat
and bread that he had just bought close to his chest. This
clamour that seemed to rush at him and overwhelm him ―
this clamour, this jumble of noises that seemed to burst
out of the ground itself ―
It was all connected to those who had a strong
attachment to life, and the energy that they radiated.
Here, everyone clung fast to life. They greedily latched
onto survival. Because nothing insured a tomorrow for
them, these people lived with even more desperation.
This energy, this clamour. It was something that didn't
exist, wasn't allowed to exist, in No. 6.
What feelings did Nezumi have as he walked through
these streets?
"Brother."
A feeble voice called out to him. He turned to see a
thin child robed in faded cloth. He had long, matted hair,
and a dirty face. Shion couldn't tell whether it was a boy
or a girl.
"Spare some bread for me," the child pleaded weakly,
in a voice that was barely a whisper. "I haven't eaten for
three days. Please, just a morsel."
 The child's countenance reminded him of a little girl
he got along with back in Lost Town. Her name was Lili.
"A morsel..."
A pair of tiny hands stretched toward him. Almost
without a thought, Shion was putting his hand into his
parcel. As soon as he pulled out a round roll, an impact
slammed into his back. He had been shoved. He staggered.
As Shion lost his balance, a pair of small hands snatched
the parcel from Shion's arms. At the same time, he was
shoved violently in the back once more, and he fell to his
knees.
"Run!"
The child shouted energetically, almost unrecognizable
from the whisper moments before. Several children yelled
after him as they stormed past Shion. The dog leapt
forward swiftly and silently. He attacked the child who
had stolen the parcel. Screams rose from the group.
Still hugging the package of dried meat and bread in
both hands, the child crumpled to the ground. A few strips
of meat and a piece of bread fell out and scattered on the
ground. The dog pinned the child down with its legs, and
bared its teeth.
"Stop it! Heel!" Shion had shouted without thinking.
The dog obeyed, closed its mouth, and looked up at Shion
reproachfully. The child didn't miss his chance. He sprang
up, and broke into a sprint with the package in his arms.
He moved with the swiftness and agility of a wild animal.
In moments, his small back had disappeared into the
throng. The other children had also melted into the
crowd, out of sight.
"Amazing..."
Shion couldn't help but murmur at their cunning ways.
Admittedly, he was impressed. He soon realized that this
was no time to be impressed, and stooped to gather what
was left of his meat and bread. What would Nezumi say,
after seeing it reduced to almost one-third of its original
amount? Would he say nothing, and shrug his shoulders?
Would he sneer?
Shion shrugged off his coat and wrapped the bread and
meat with it. He would share this with Nezumi for dinner
tonight. Those children would probably do the same. They
would share it amongst themselves, and each have a tiny
morsel of food for dinner. Naive, and meaningless
sympathy. He knew Nezumi would criticize him scathingly,
but Shion was still a little relieved.
At least tonight, those children would have food. Right
now, he had no power to free them from starvation. He
couldn't do anything. But if his meat and bread would
stave off their empty stomachs even for a short time―
wasn't that at least a little meaningful? It was acceptable
enough to give up because he was powerless to do
anything. It was acceptable, but it was arrogant. Wouldn't
you think so, Nezumi?
"Oy, you there, fella."
From a stall selling roasted kebabs, the female
shopkeeper called over to him in her raspy voice. "Will ya
stop standin' in front o' my store all dazed-like? Being a
nuisance, you is. Disruptin' business!"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Shion bowed his head hastily in
apology, but the shop mistress was already busy dealing
with other customers to notice him. Here, no one looked
out for other strangers. They simply weren't interested.
Whether there be robbery on the street, or a beggar
dying, or a fight breaking out, no one cared. It all blended
into the scenery of daily occurrences.
"Well, let's go home, then," Shion called over to the
dog, and noticed its jaws snapping as it was chewing
something.
"Hey, wait a minute, don't tell me you're―"
The dog gulped the meat in its mouth, and looked up
at him with a flash of a grin.
"When did you manage to pick that meat up? A lot
quicker than me, huh."
The dog lolled its pink tongue, licked its chops, and
began trotting briskly ahead of him. Shion was amused,
though he wasn't sure why.
He had been following the dog for some time when he
was stopped by Rikiga. Outwardly, Rikiga's job was
publishing lewd adult magazines. But behind the scenes,
he acted as a middleman for prostitutes, and that was his
livelihood. Among his patrons there were said to be higher
officials of No. 6 as well. In the words of Nezumi, it was
from these kinds of people that Rikiga cunningly weaselled
great amounts money.
But he was also the man that Shion's mother Karan
told him to go to for help. According to Rikiga, a long time
ago before No. 6 and the West Block was been divided
with a wall of special alloy, he had met and fallen in love
with Karan. But it was only he who had fallen in love, and
Karan had merely shown agreement toward the articles
that Rikiga had written as a journalist at that time.
"He's the prime example of a corrupted man." These
were also Nezumi's words, but Shion found he liked the
somewhat aloof and fearless aura of the man who had
once loved his mother. This man wasn't completely
corrupted. He still had journalism in his bones. That was
what Shion felt.
Rikiga's face was beet-red from drunkenness, and even
his eyes were bloodshot. It looked like he had been
drinking quite a bit.
"Rikiga-san, it's bad for your health if you don't lay off
the alcohol a little."
"You're so kind, Shion. I feel like Karan's the one
reprimanding me. She was just saying to me the other day,
'Please, Rikiga, mind your health.'"
"The other day? My mother?"
"In my dream. Ever since seeing you, Karan's started
appearing in my dreams. And every single time I see her,
she scolds me. Don't drink, don't be reckless, don't lose
sight of what your job should really be―"
A flush that was not from alcohol rose in Rikiga's
cheeks. He turned his face away as if to avoid Shion's
gaze.
"Well, a dream's just a dream. Karan's moved on,
gotten herself an admirable son like you. I'm sure she's
changed from when she was younger ― in appearance, and
heart too."
"She's aged," Shion conceded. "And she's gotten a little
plump. ―But if she were to see you again, Rikiga-san, I'm
sure she'd say the same thing she said to you in your
dream. That's the kind of person she is."
Rikiga opened his mouth to say something, and then
pursed his lips.
"All that about Karan― it's― it's alright. To tell you the
truth, it's a bit painful remembering..." he trailed off
before abruptly changing the subject. "So are you alone
today?"
"I'm with the dog."
"The one that's glaring at me suspiciously right now?
You wouldn't wanna bite me, mutt. Just so you know, my
meat is soaked in booze, and it's running in my veins. Sink
your teeth into this, and you'll go belly-up from alcohol
poisoning."
 The dog glanced up at the drunken man, twitched its
nose disdainfully, and scowled. Shion looked down and
chuckled to himself.
"What's his problem?" Rikiga grumbled at the dog. "So,
no one else with you today apart from the dog?"
"Are you talking about Nezumi?"
"Yeah. That sarcastic smart-aleck of an actor. Geez, I
don't think I've met anyone as foul-mouthed as he is."
"But you were his fan, right?"
"I just didn't know his true identity, that's all. I mean,
Eve is quite enthralling onstage. I never would have
guessed that he'd be such an impolite asshole. The kid
goes around saying whatever he wants, whenever he
wants. Hard to imagine how a beautiful face like that can
be so brash and brutal. Unbelievable, I tell ya."
"Nezumi only speaks the truth."
No matter how harsh or ruthless his words were, they
never carried any lies. That was why they became blades
and spears that pierced Shion's chest, and left a pain that
he could not forget. It was a pain that he would never
have known if he had not met Nezumi. Every time the
countless pangs stirred restlessly deep in his chest, Shion
felt something in himself changing little by little. A part
crumbled away, while another part rebuilt itself; and yet
another part would be born anew. Each word from
Nezumi, and the pain that accompanied it led Shion to
change, and kept urging him forward. Shion could vividly
feel himself being changed and shaped by the force of
another.
"You know, Shion. If it gets too unbearable, you can
stay over with me," Rikiga said as they walked
side-by-side. His breath hit Shion's cheek, and reeked of
alcohol.
"Unbearable? What do you mean?"
"No, I understand," Rikiga said abruptly. "You don't
have to hide it. I can't imagine how it wouldn't be
unbearable living with Eve. I'm guessing your living
conditions are less-than-standard. Are you getting enough
to eat? Now, I think this highly unlikely, but if in some
nasty turn of events, you get influenced by Eve and your
personality gets as twisted as his― hm," he grunted to
himself. "Indeed. There's no way I can let that happen to
Karan's son. Come live at my place. I'll give you enough to
eat, and give you a warm bed to sleep in."
"No, that's alright. I'm fine."
"But Karan sent word to come to me for help, right?"
"Yes, but I don't want to be a burden on you,
Rikiga-san," Shion insisted. "I'm fine. I've managed until
now, and I'll keep managing. And I actually enjoy being
around Nezumi."
"There's no way you'd enjoy being around an ass like
him. You don't have to put on a brave face. You're having a
hard time, aren't you? Look, you're not even wearing a
sweater. You poor kid."
 "Oh, no, I'm just using my sweater to wrap my meat
and bread―"
But Rikiga wasn't listening to Shion's answer. He was
glancing at his surroundings, and nodding fervently to
himself.
"I know a good store. Let's go there." He yanked Shion
by the arm, and walked into a shop that was lined with an
enormous quantity of clothes. It looked like a
used-clothing shop, and there were garments even hanging
from the ceiling. The clothes ranged from well-worn to
almost new.
"G'day." A woman almost as large as the shopkeeper
from the kebab stand materialized out of the shadows of a
mountain of clothes. As soon as she noticed that Rikiga
was her customer, she pasted a bright business smile onto
her face.
"Whah, Mr. Rikiga. Nice to see you again," she drawled.
"If you're looking for a dress to give to someone, we've got
some very good ones, we do. One of these would leave her
pleased as punch, yessir."
"No, I'm not looking for women's clothes today," replied
Rikiga. "Can you find something warm that would look nice
on this boy here?"
The woman's eyes narrowed, and her gaze raked Shion
from head to toe.
 "Whah, what an adorable gentleman we have heah,"
she said appreciatively. "And mah, what bee-yootiful hair.
Is it fashionable with young people these days?"
Shion pulled his wool hat further down over his eyes.
His glossy white hair stood out, even in the dim darkness
of the shop. When the parasite wasp had hatched inside
him, as the price for his survival or some sort of
side-effect, Shion's hair had been drained of its colour in a
single night, and a red scar had appeared on his skin,
snaking its way up from his leg to his neck. He could hide
his scar with clothing, but with his hair, it wasn't so easy.
His snowy hair and youthful face were an unusual
combination, and drew stares wherever he went. In the
West Block, it wasn't particularly out-of-place for young
people to be balding or have greying hair from
malnutrition. There were many children that had
salt-and-pepper hair which would otherwise be more
common to those entering their senior years. But those
like Shion, whose every strand of hair was pure white and
shiny, was a rarity.
"It's more transparent than white, I'd say. I think it
looks way prettier than before, to tell you the truth." Even
Nezumi had said so, while touching his hair with his
fingertips.
"Is he your boy? Highly unlikely, Ah'd say," the women
remarked, her artificial smile still plastered to her face as
she gazed at Shion. He felt like he was being sized up. It
was a little uncomfortable.
 "Rikiga-san, um, I really don't need any winter clothes,
can we just―"
"Nonsense," Rikiga interrupted. "Winters here are
harsh. You've got barely enough flesh on those bones to
get you through. You need some good, warm clothes to
keep the cold out. Well?" he said impatiently to the
shopkeeper. "Are you going to put out some clothes or not?
If you're not, I'll take my business elsewhere."
Under Rikiga's glare, the woman sprang hastily into
motion.
"Whah, of course Ah will. We've actually just gotten a
shipment in. Just a momen' now." The woman heaved an
armload of clothes from behind a dirty curtain.
"There y' go. Choose any one you like. They're all
excellent qualitay."
Shion had his doubts about whether they were of
excellent qualitay or not, but there was certainly a
variety of garments. There were overcoats, half-coats,
sweaters, heavy shawls, and sports jackets of every size,
material, and colour, all heaped high.
"Guess you just have to look in the right place," Shion
muttered to himself. Here was a wealth of clothing, where
just down the road there were people clad in rags,
shivering in the cold. Even in a severely impoverished
place like the West Block, there was still a stark divide
between the poor and privileged.
 "Shion, you don't need to be modest. Pick anything
that catches your eye."
"But Rikiga-san, there's no reason for you to be so good
to me―"
"Don't worry about it. You're Karan's son― and to me,
that sort of feels like you're my son too. Think of it as a
kind of treat from your dad."
Shion blinked, and gazed into Rikiga's flushed face. It
looked like his drinking had done away with some of his
inhibitions; what he was saying now was probably close to
how he truly felt. Perhaps Rikiga had lived alone all this
time in the West Block, with no family. And now, he was
trying to re-enact the sort of family life he never had,
with the son of a woman he had once loved. Freedom and
loneliness. He had the cunning it took to succeed in the
underground business with No. 6 officials as his patrons;
but he had the frailty of one who had wearied of living too
long in solitude.
Humans were complex. They housed in themselves
both resilience and frailty; ying and yang; light and
shadow; sacred and sinful. Here was the true form of a
human that Shion would never have been able to map
from the vast sea of knowledge he had acquired in No. 6.
What he knew of the human body ― of roughly 32,000
genes; approximately 100,000 different kinds of proteins;
300 million base sequences of DNA; its neurons; collagen
fibres; macrophages; the layered structure of muscles; the
volume of blood in circulation ― he didn't think any of it a
waste. He didn't think so at all. But understanding a
human being was an entirely different dimension. It was
impossible to grasp any of the complexity or true form of
a living being from systematic knowledge or information
that could be converted to numbers.
It was something that Shion had learned from his days
of living with Nezumi on this land.
"Well, in that case, I guess I'll choose freely."
"That's more like it," Rikiga said jovially. "Which one do
you want? Find anything you like?"
Shion pulled out a dark, heavy coat.
"I'll take this one. It looks warm."
"Are you sure you want something that dull? Alright,
then pick a flashy sweater. You're young, you'd look better
in bright colours."
"No, really―" Shion protested, "I don't need so much."
"Nonsense. The coat by itself isn't going to keep you
warm enough."
"Ah'd say so too mahself, sir," the woman chimed in.
"Our sweaters are very warm, see. Whah don't you trah
some on?"
The woman confidently yanked a sweater out of the
pile. The mountain of clothes collapsed, and spilled in an
avalanche over the floor.
"Oh, mah. Well. Ah do apologize―"
 Rikiga clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"What are you doing?" he said irritably. "Now we can't
even choose from this mess. Ridiculous, huh, Shion." He
paused. "Shion ― what's wrong?"
Although Rikiga had spoken right beside him, his words
did not reach Shion's ears. His gaze was glued to what had
appeared underneath the scattered garments. All sound
and colour disappeared from around him, and only that
thing rose up into his vision.
It was a grey half-coat.
The soft colour, with a hint of blue; its premium
quality obvious to the touch; the large buttons on the
cuffs of the sleeves ― he had seen them before.
"This is―" His hand trembled as he grasped the coat.
There was a rip in the shoulder that had been sewn up
crudely with black thread. There was also a button
missing, which looked like it had been torn off. His hands
shook violently. He wanted them to stop, but they would
not.
"That one capture your fancy? Ah, but this is ladies'
coat, see. The very best qualitay, of course ― but maht be
just a little snug on you, sir. Ah don't think it would fit.
The last coat, the black one, that would look much―"
"Where did you―"
"Ah beg your pardon?"
 "I'm asking you where you got this from!" He was
yelling. He had no intention of intimidating the woman,
but she raised her eyebrows in surprise, and took a step
backwards.
"This coat― where― where did you get it?"
"Shion!"
Rikiga clamped a hand on Shion's shoulder from
behind. "What's wrong? What are you getting all worked up
for? What's wrong with the coat?"
Shion swallowed hard, and clenched the coat in his
hands.
"This belongs to Safu."
"Safu? Who's that?"
"My friend. My... very precious..."
"Friend? You mean, from when you were still inside the
city?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure it's not a mistake? There must be dozens
of coats that look like this."
Shion gritted his teeth in hopes of stopping the
trembling in his fingers, and shook his head from side to
side.
It was no mistake. This was Safu's coat. It had been a
gift from her only blood relative, her grandmother, and
even for a boy like Shion, he could tell that it was an
elegant and becoming piece that complimented Safu's
well-defined face.
"Your Grandma must really know you well, Safu. She
always chooses things that look the best on you," he had
said.
"Yeah, I guess so. I mean, she's raised me all my life,
after all. Hey, Shion― if you were to give me a coat, what
kind would you give me?"
"What? I'm sorry, but my wages are never gonna be
able to get you a coat as nice as that one."
"I'm just saying, 'what if'? I want to know what you
would choose."
"Hmm, tough question."
"Well, think hard. Solving difficult questions is your
thing, isn't it?"
Last year, they had walked down a winter path holding
this kind of conversation. The rays of the winter sun had
streamed through the bare branches and shone down on
Safu, making her coat glow dimly. That was the first time
he had thought his childhood friend looked beautiful. The
wintry sun, the warm smile, the grey coat. It was Safu's.
He was sure of it.
Why― what was this doing here? Why, why, why....
"Why?" Shion pressed urgently. "Where, and how did
you get this coat? Tell me, please. Now."
 "Shion, calm down." Rikiga stepped out in front of
Shion, and blocked the woman's way. "So, what route did
you ship this in through? Did it find its way here from No.
6, or―"
The woman's face had long been wiped clean of its
plastic smile. Instead, it was filled with bold and
disdainful suspicion.
"Whah, I never. Here Ah am, bein' polite for you, Mr.
Rikiga, and what do Ah get in return? Is it any of your
business where Ah get mah things? Or what is it― plannin'
to find all the faults you can with mah goods, and get
them for cheap, Ah suppose? This is no joking matter, no,
this is not. Ah'm not laughing one bit."
"What the hell would I be doing wanting to make you
laugh?" Rikiga snapped. "I can assure you the chances of
that is slimmer than a hair on my head. Why aren't you
talking? What are you being so cautious for? It's that risky,
is it, wherever you're getting these shipped from?"
The woman opened her wide mouth and let forth a
stream of indignant complaints.
"Tha's quite enough. Ah'll have you know Ah run a
decent business 'round these parts. If you've got somethin'
to complain about, you can show yourself the door. Git
out, Ah say. Go home!"
Before she could finish, Rikiga had twisted her arm
behind her back, and pinned her down on the counter.
"What the hell are you doin'? You dirty littl' bastard!"
 "If you don't want your arm broken, you better spit it
out," Rikiga said darkly. "How did you get this coat?"
"Ah got it from the waste disposal plant in No. 6.
Picked it up 'cause it was floatin' in the sewage. Thas' all,
mercy, Jesus!" She winced in pain.
"There was sewage coming out of that place? I don't
think I've heard anything about that."
"Thas' whah Ah'm sayin', it was a long time ago ― does
it matter, really? They threw 't away 'cause it was garbage,
Ah'm free to do whatever Ah want with it. It's nobody's
business, 'specially not yours."
"You're lying!" Shion yelled. "That's a lie! This coat was
important to Safu. She would never throw it away!"
"What's the noise about?" A door at the back of the
store opened, and a man walked in. He was a giant ― at
least two metres tall in height. It looked like he weighed
at least a hundred kilograms. His head was completely
bald, and his face was strangely twisted. Despite the
season, he was only clad in a short-sleeved T-shirt. Tattoos
of a scorpion and skull decorated his thick arms.
"You're back, and just in tahm. Will you kick these two
out of here?" The woman smiled contemptuously while still
being pinned by Rikiga. "Ah'll have you know that mah
husband's got mighty strong muscles in them arms. Could
sure break a neck or two 'fore breakfast. Ah'd git outta
here if Ah were you, 'fore you end up dead."
 Rikiga let go of the woman, and shrugged his shoulders
casually.
"Well?" said the woman impatiently. "What're you
dawdling for? Beat 'em 'til they can barely stand, go on."
The man remained silent. Then, without uttering a
single word, he bowed his head low.
"Long time no see, Conk," Rikiga said momentarily.
"Didn't know you settled down. So you're the hubby of a
clothes-dealer now, huh?"
"Got married a month ago," the man mumbled.
"Well, well. Congratulations. Will you be kind and ask
your beautiful wife where she got this coat? She's got a lot
of spunk, this madam of yours. Having a hard time getting
the truth out of her."
The man whom Rikiga called Conk stared intently at
the coat in Shion's hands, and turned to the woman.
"Tell Rikiga-san the truth."
"Whah, whas' gotten in to you all of a sudden? What do
you have to listen to them for?"
"Rikiga-san was good to me a long time ago. Hurry up.
Say it."
Under Conk's threatening gaze, the woman's face
twisted into a scowl. Still scowling, she turned her face
away huffily.
"Ah jus' bought it off some middleman. Ah dunno
where he maht've gotten it."
 Rikiga clicked his tongue.
"Liar. There's no way you wouldn't know where your
merchandise came from."
"Ah don't know what Ah don't know," the woman said
stubbornly. "No way Ah would."
Rikiga posed another question while restraining Conk,
who had taken a step forward with a clenched fist.
"Then tell me who that middleman is," he said. "I'll be
able to figure out the rest."
The woman didn't answer. Rikiga extracted a few bills
from his breast pocket, placed them in the woman's hand,
and closed her fingers around them.
"You were talking to yourself, and you let the
middleman's name slip. We just happened to overhear.
We'll keep it that way. I won't cause you trouble."
The woman glanced at the bills in her hand, and with
her face still turned aside, mumbled an answer.
"It's the dogkeeper. That weird squirt who uses his
dogs to do business."
The dog curled up at Shion's feet pricked its ears.
Rikiga gave a low growl.
"Inukashi, huh. Then it must've come from the
Correctional Facility."
"Correctional Facility?" Shion echoed in disbelief.
 "Yeah," said Rikiga. "I heard the kid passes prisoner's
belongings along to the underground market."
Shion's heart stopped. Or at least, it felt like it did. He
couldn't breathe. There was a dull ringing in his ears.
Correctional Facility, prisoners, Correctional Facility,
prisoners, Correctional Facility...
"Then Safu... she's inside the Correctional Facility?"
"Most likely," Rikiga answered heavily. "And she
probably hasn't been invited cordially as a guest, either.
She's probably been taken into custody― treated as a
prisoner, no doubt."
Shion burst out of the store with the grey coat in his
arms.
He had to see Inukashi immediately. He had to learn
the truth from him.
"Shion!"
Behind him, Rikiga's yell scattered on the wind and
dispersed fruitlessly into the air.
***
The man was walking strangely, and he had been doing
so for some time. He stumbled on unsteady feet as if he
were drunk.
Twelve-year-old Juse tilted his head in bewilderment
as he dismounted from his bicycle. Off to the left, he
could see the apartment building where he and his family
lived. He was in a corner of a park, one of many that
dotted the residential area. Although it wasn't as large as
the Forest Park, it was nevertheless a peaceful alcove
abundant in greenery. Juse pushed his bicycle along ― a
crossroad bike he had gotten for this twelfth birthday
from his father ― and followed the man with his gaze. He
couldn't help but be concerned; he couldn't just leave the
man there. His mother was always lamenting this habit of
his. 'Don't get involved in other people's business,' she
would say. 'You seem to want to stick your nose into
everything, Juse. I wonder if you've gotten it from your
grandfather.' But if he had gotten it from his grandfather,
for Juse it would have been the best thing he could ask
for. He always thought so in his heart.
Juse loved his grandfather. When Juse was still young,
his grandfather, who had once been a sailor, would always
sit Juse on his lap and tell him stories. He spoke of the
sea, which Juse had never seen before; of great white
whales that were as big as mountains; lands that were
suspended year-round in snow and ice; flocks of tens of
thousands of butterflies that streamed across the sky in
one large flowing mass; giants that lived above the clouds;
mysterious creatures that lived deep beneath the sea;
faeries; magic; ancient wars of the gods ― his mother
hated it, but there was a time in Juse's life when he
became completely engrossed in the stories that his
grandfather would tell him.
He grew up, and not long after he began attending an
institution selected by the Education Bureau, he received
a formal reprimand from the instructor that he had
delusional tendencies. He was told that this was a concern
for his future. His mother broke down in tears, and his
father reeled from the blow. Juse was streamed into the
Special Program and received special instruction for a full
year. It was mandated to him, and he was not given a
choice. All the old books he had borrowed from the
shelves of his grandfather were disposed of. And a few
months later, his grandfather disappeared altogether. He
had been taken to the Twilight Cottage. Juse always heard
from people how it was the greatest happiness any elderly
person could ask for, but he himself cried in bed for many
nights from the loneliness of never being able to see his
grandfather again. And on nights where he cried himself to
sleep, he always dreamt of the stories his grandfather
used to tell him.
A year later, Juse had stopped talking about great
white whales, or faeries with transparent wings. The
adults sighed breaths of relief. But in the depths of the
boy's soul, the stories remained secretly alive, and
breathed within him. He would never be able to wash
them away. Perhaps that was why he found himself still
concerned about other people, even now. He couldn't help
but wonder, what does this person do? What's he feeling
right now? But he had also acquired the sense not to say it
out loud.
"Oh―!" Juse cried out softly. The man had collapsed at
the foot of a beech tree. The man groaned in pain. Juse
left his crossroad bike and trotted to the man's side. He
thought he saw something black fly away from the man,
who was lying face down. Juse didn't have the time to
check. The man's body had begun convulsing, but soon lay
still.
"Um― sir―"
Juse called out to him hesitantly. He peered into the
man's face. The next moment, Juse was screaming.

-- END OF CHAPTER 3 --
CHAPTER 4
A Lie of Truth, A Truth of Fiction

The King's ears are donkey's ears.

Great furry donkey's ears.
Moving, twitching donkey's ears.
[1]
- Greek myth "King Midas' Donkey Ears"

Nezumi walked slowly along the night path. Here,

night and darkness were synonymous with each other.
After all natural light had faded, what was left was a
world of darkness. Everything became painted black.
Sometimes, a barrack would let a thin strip of light
seep out of one of its cracks, while barely keeping the
wind and rain out. But the lights were often extinguished
not long after, and a frigid chill would reign over the
night, piercing through the darkness, the silence, and
people's clothes to reach their warm bodies underneath.
 Even the white puffs of breath that escaped his lips
faded into the darkness. He turned his face up to the
heavens. Countless stars were winking in the clear night
sky.
Tomorrow morning would probably be even colder
than usual. And outside, more people would freeze to
death. A cruel fate to meet under a starry sky. Even with a
star-filled sky, no one called these winter nights beautiful
― not on this land.
Nezumi stopped his feet, and gazed at the glittering
city in the distance. The city of light loomed in the
darkness ― the Holy City of No. 6.
The entire city glowed golden, and reminded him of
the myth of King Midas, who turned everything he touched
into gold.
In the freezing darkness, Nezumi smiled wanly.
King Midas would acquire the golden touch, but in
exchange for it he would no longer be able to bring meat
nor bread to his lips, and would even turn his beloved
daughter into a golden statue. He would then finally
realize his greed and his folly, and beg the gods for
forgiveness.
No. 6, what will you do? You, the city that looks down
on us in our darkness, and glitters in all its deception and
artifice, will you too grovel on the ground one day and
beg for forgiveness? But there will be no gods to grant you
mercy. Clad in that golden robe of yours, you'll crumble,
burn to ashes, and perish. I'll live until the moment the
curtains fall on your finale. I'll keep living, and see the
end with my own eyes.
Nezumi re-wrapped his superfibre cloth around
himself, and began to walk. A little mouse, one that Shion
had named Hamlet, poked its head out of the folds and
chirruped softly.
Yes, he was going to live. Just as he had all the way up
until now, he was going to keep living, even if he had to
crawl the earth on all fours. He would shroud himself from
any danger, sharpen his fangs, polish his claws, and keep
living until the moment that he would sink his teeth into
the other's throat, and tear it apart.
He would survive, keep living. He would.
Nezumi put a hand to the back pocket of his pants.
Inside it was Karan's memo.

He had not shown Shion yet. What was he to do with

it? Nezumi was suspended in his decision. He stood at a
crossroads, unable to throw the memo away, nor to pass it
to Shion and turn his back on him, saying it was none of
his own business.
To be indecisive, to waver, and to be agitated ― he
knew how dangerous these were to him, almost painfully
aware. Right or left; up or down; fight or flight; abandon
or protect ― the split second it took to make the decision
was the difference between life and death. He had never
once made the wrong choice. That was how he had
survived up until now.
This memo is dangerous. Then, all he had to do was
throw it away. Along with the indecision that would no
doubt endanger his life, it was for the best to entomb it
all in darkness.
He knew the correct answer. But why wasn't he
complying with it? Why was he taking the trouble, even
paying a large sum of money, to have information
collected about the Correctional Facility? What the hell
am I doing?
His feet stopped.
Nezumi stood still, and trained his eyes onto the
darkness. He was on a slope sparsely populated with trees,
a couple dozen metres away from his underground abode.
"Who's there?" he spoke quietly. There was a dry
rustling above him, perhaps from a gust of wind that
whistled through the bare branches. But even more
discreetly, there was a movement in the dark, the faint
sound of a step on the leaves.
"A little slow to notice, aren't ya?" There was a short
bark of a laugh. "Not like you, not like you at all. What
were you daydreaming about?"
"Inukashi."
 Inukashi's black hair and tan skin were convenient for
blending into the darkness. But it was careless of him not
to have noticed his presence until he had come this close.
He was not himself today.
"Good thing it was only me. Who knows how many
lives you'd need if you were that dazed around anyone
else, Eve." Inukashi called Nezumi by his stage name, and
gave another short laugh.
"Things aren't much safer with you around," Nezumi
retorted. "Especially if you're gonna be waiting at night to
ambush me on the road." He took half a step backwards.
"What do you want, Inukashi? I find it hardly likely you've
been able to get the information this quickly."
Inukashi's tone of voice changed, and all sarcasm
vanished from his speech.
"We've got an emergency."
"Emergency?"
"Just now ― well, more like awhile ago ― Shion came
to see me."
"Did he?" A jolt of unease raced through him, almost
painfully.
"And not about his dog-washing job, either. He shoved
a grey coat in my face, and asked me if I got it from the
Correctional Facility."
"Grey coat, huh... women's?"
 "Yeah. It was ripped at the shoulder, but it was a fine
piece of clothing. It came from a used-clothes dealer I
sold stuff to. Stuff I got smuggled out of the Correctional
Facility."
It must belong to that girl― Safu. Nezumi turned
aside, and drew a breath.
"So?"
"So?" Inukashi echoed incredulously. "You tell me.
What's the script for this act, huh, Nezumi? Shion says this
coat belongs to his friend. Which means his little friend is
being kept prisoner in the Correctional Facility. And
earlier today, you gave me money to gather information
about the Correctional Facility. Don't tell me those aren't
related ― even a dog wouldn't fall for that lie. Are you
planning to help Shion's little friend out, is that what
you're doing?"
Nezumi had no way to answer. He could neither affirm
nor reject what Inukashi had said.
"Of course not," Inukashi answered for him. "There's no
way someone like you would throw his life away to help a
complete stranger."
"What makes you think I'm gonna die in the process?"
On the other end of the darkness, Inukashi sucked in a
deep breath.
"Are you half-asleep? This is the Correctional Facility
we're talking about. By some lucky fluke, you might be
able to sneak in. But there's no way you'd make it out
alive. Nezumi, don't get any funny ideas."
"Goodness gracious, are you worried about me? I'm
shocked."
"I could care less about you," Inukashi snapped.
"Whether one rat dies or not isn't gonna make a
difference. But what're you gonna do about Shion, huh?
Now he knows where his little friend's been taken. Being
the oblivious little boy he is, he probably thinks the
Correctional Facility is just some cushy Centre for
Discipline, or whatever. He probably figures all he has to
do is hand in a Visitation Form to see his little friend. If
you don't stop him, the kid's gonna go. He's gonna go and
― he's gonna get himself killed."
Inukashi fell silent, the darkness of the night seemed
to deepen. Even the wind was still ― the tree branches
ceased to make even a faint rustle.
"Is this what you've waited all this time to tell me?"
Nezumi said presently. "I ache to imagine what pains I
must have put you through."
Nezumi stepped forward, and grabbed Inukashi by the
shoulder before he could slip away. As long as he had
bearings on the other's presence, he could more than
easily predict all of his movements.
"It doesn't matter what Shion plans to do," Nezumi said
quietly. "He's not one of us, and it's none of our business."
 "Then why the hell are you sniffing around behind his
back?" Inukashi replied accusingly. "Why do you need to
gather information about the Correctional Facility in
secret?"
Nezumi stiffened his fingers and dug them harder into
Inukashi's thin, bony shoulder. Inukashi cried out in pain.
Nezumi bent to bring his lips near the other's ear.
"Don't stick your nose in things you have no business
in," he whispered. "You do the job you've been paid to do,
and nothing else."
He let his hand go. Inukashi's small body swayed
unsteadily.
"I only told Shion where the coat came from," he said.
"I haven't told him anything about what you've come to me
for."
"Of course you haven't."
"Nezumi, Shion's gonna go alone," Inukashi said levelly.
He feebly shook the arm that was now numb all the way to
his fingertips. "He thinks you don't know anything about it.
And he's gonna go alone, without telling anyone. He's not
gonna get you involved. You know that, right?"
"What makes you so sure? Are you Shion's Papa or
something?"
"I don't have to be his Papa to know. You should know
even better than me what kind of person he is. That's why
you're scuttling around in secret, aren't you?"
 "Shut up!" Nezumi had raised his voice in a snarl. His
emotions whipped about turbulently; his breathing came
out irregular. Inukashi showed almost no reaction.
"If he's so precious to you that you don't wanna lose
him," Inukashi said steadily, "protect him to the very end.
And do whatever it takes to protect him, you idiot, no
matter how humiliating it is. You think you can save face,
huh? Keep it all hidden, and take care of it all on your
own? Stop fooling yourself."
"Inukashi!"
Inukashi sprang back a split second before Nezumi
took a step forward. Crouched on one knee, Inukashi
laughed softly.
"You lose, Nezumi."
"What?"
"You've gotten yourself something you need to protect
― you lose. Those are the rules in these parts. Better get
to know them."
Nezumi kicked off the ground, and rounded in on
Inukashi from the front. He snared the other boy as he
tried to get away, and pushed him to the ground.
"What'd you say about losing?" he said fiercely. "That's
enough bullshit from you."
"I'm not bullshitting. Nezumi, if this was you a while
ago, you wouldn't have let yourself be provoked so easily.
You wouldn't be walking around at night lost in thought,
either."
Let go, Inukashi said in an eerily calm voice. He got
up, and heaved a sigh.
"Still don't realize, Nezumi?"
"Huh?"
A sharp whistle tore through the air. While he
whistled, Inukashi took several steps backwards.
In the darkness from all directions, countless small red
dots of flame glinted as they emerged. It didn't take
Nezumi long to realize that they were dogs' eyes. Before
he knew it, he was surrounded by a pack of them. Not one
of them raised so much as a growl as they formed a ring
and advanced on him.
"Those ones are trained guard-dogs. You're not gonna
get the same deal you did in the afternoon." Inukashi's
voice was further away now. "You stepped right into that
ring without even realizing it. Definitely not a mistake
you'd normally make, Nezumi. But there's your weakness.
Forget Shion ― look at you, you can't even protect
yourself."
After a moment of silence, a short command sliced
the air.
"Get him!"
The dogs sprang up. Dozens of lithe and deadly bodies
flew over Nezumi's head and came down upon him from
above as he sat crouched on the ground. He sprang to his
feet, and aimed a kick straight upwards.
A yelp.
One dog broke the silence with its voice, and
crumpled to the ground. Before Nezumi could catch his
breath, another one kicked off the ground. It sank its
teeth into Nezumi's arm, which he had wrapped with his
superfibre cloth just in time. Nezumi swung his entire arm
around and battered the dog to the ground. He rose, and
regained his posture with a tree at his back.
"Inukashi, if you're gonna keep up this stupid game, I'm
not gonna go easy on you either." Nezumi drew his knife
from its leather sheath. He caught his breath, and counted
the little red flames.
Four more.
"So you don't care if your precious dogs get their
throats slit, huh?" he called out.
Inukashi's voice answered from the same spot as
before.
"Let's see you try. That was just a warm-up. They're
not gonna be all polite this time and come at you one by
one. This time, they're coming all at once."
Even before Inukashi had finished his sentence,
Nezumi was lunging in the direction of his voice. At the
same time, a searing pain tore across his shoulder.
 "Out of the way!" He rammed the butt of the knife
between the dog's eyes. Along with the sound of tearing
fabric, the black dog went rolling across the ground
behind him.
"Inukashi!" Nezumi yanked Inukashi by his long hair,
and dragged him down. He pinned him to the ground, and
pressed the knife to his tan throat.
"Back your dogs down, or else―"
Inukashi laughed shortly.
"Or else what? You gonna kill me?"
"If you wish it so," Nezumi said coolly.
"You think you can kill me, when you haven't even
managed to kill a single dog?"
This time, it was Nezumi who gave a soft laugh.
"But I don't have a spare knife today."
"What?"
"Dog's blood dulls the blade. I saved it and kept it
clean for you."
Inukashi's body twitched.
"Hey, cut that out, you jerk," he said nervously. "You
try and kill me ― my dogs'll jump you all at once. They'll
tear you to pieces."
"Oh, I don't know about that. You're their boss, right?
I've heard before that dogs lose their will to fight if their
boss gets defeated."
 "Th―That's not true― hey, really, cut it out. It's
dangerous."
"Back your dogs down."
"Fine." Inukashi snapped his fingers. The dogs spun on
their heels at once, and disappeared into the darkness.
"I see. You've trained them well."
"Thanks for the compliment," Inukashi said sullenly.
"Funny how it doesn't seem to make me feel any better. So
are you gonna get your heavy ass off me or not? A love
scene with you isn't exactly something I've been itching to
do lately."
"Don't worry," Nezumi said pleasantly, "it's the last
thing I'd want to be doing either. I wouldn't even do it if I
got paid to on-stage."
After he had freed Inukashi and put away his knife,
Nezumi posed his question anew.
"What was all that for?"
Inukashi clucked his tongue while he brushed the
leaves off his clothes.
"I took it upon myself to give you a private lesson."
"What?"
"The fact is, you're not as strong as you think. I just
thought I'd teach you that. You've got skill, though. Not
many people can get that far against me and my dogs."
 "Why, thanks for the compliment. Funny how it's not
making me feel better."
"But you're not any superhuman or monster," Inukashi
continued. "You're just a human. And a man can only do so
much by himself."
There was a dull pain in Nezumi's shoulder. Blood
flowed in streams down his arm.
A fleeting thought crossed Nezumi's mind. This was the
same spot where he had gotten the bullet wound which
Shion had treated four years ago.
"Nezumi!"
He could hear Shion's voice calling him. The light of a
lamp bobbed nearer.
"Looks like the little lad has come to fetch you
himself," Inukashi snickered quietly. "Well, let me excuse
myself then―" Then, somewhat rushed, he added,
"Nezumi, there's something weird going on inside No. 6."
"Weird?"
"I don't know the details. I've heard that there's some
weird disease going around, but I don't know for sure. I'm
gonna look into it. And I'm going to be getting information
about the inside of the Correctional Facility soon. It looks
like things are starting to get busy for them too. It's gonna
get pretty interesting, I can smell it ― my dog's nose is
telling me. So―"
"So?"
 "So count me in ― I'm gonna help you out."
Inukashi's hand reached out, and clapped Nezumi
firmly on the shoulder. A vicious pain shot through him.
Nezumi groaned, and fell to his knees with a hand pressed
to his shoulder.
"See ya. I'll be in touch soon." Inukashi melted into the
inky darkness faster than his dogs had disappeared. As he
faded, Shion's footsteps approached nearer.
"Nezumi, did something happen?"
Shion held the lamp up to Nezumi as he got to his
feet. His eyes widened in alarm.
"What happened to you? You're bleeding!"
"I got attacked by a dog."
"A dog? Why?"
"It was just some mongrel. I guess it thought I was a
cute little bunny rabbit. What are you doing here?"
Hamlet poked its head out from Shion's sweater
pocket.
"He came to get me," Shion said. "I thought something
might've happened to you."
"So you came to help. With one lamp."
"Yeah." Shion 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."
Shion'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, Shion
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,"
Shion 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 stitches for a bug bite."
"How rude," Shion 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 Shion ― 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
Shion 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 Shion'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, Shion had lost almost all of his
privileges and fortune.
How much easier things would have been if he was
able to dismiss Shion 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.
"Shion."
"Hm?"
 "Do you really think so?"
Shion'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," Shion
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, Shion 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?"
Shion 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," Shion 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 Shion 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."
Shion 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
assess the situation. Geez, I don't know what the hell 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, Shion, 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."
Shion 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," Shion 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 hell 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 Shion?
Shion's gonna go alone.
Inukashi's low voice echoed in his ears.
 Yes, Shion 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," Shion 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."
Shion 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 Shion with a face like
this.
"It's not about reasoning!" Shion 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 Shion.
Both times, Nezumi wasn't able to predict Shion's
explosion of anger. The first time, Nezumi had told Shion,
'Don't cry for other people. Don't get into fights for other
people. Fight and cry only for yourself.' Shion had said
that he didn't understand. It was true, he hadn't
understood. For this time, again, Shion 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 Shion 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 Shion'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, Shion, you'd come to think so.
Shion'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, Shion," 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!" Shion 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? Shion, you're not making sense."
"You're the one making me talk like this!"
Shion's fist pounded the bookcase. A mound of books
collapsed. Cravat gave an alarmed screech, and skittered
into the folds of Nezumi's clothes.
Shion 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," Shion 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."
Shion 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?"
Shion 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?"
Shion 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."
Shion 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.
Shion bent down, his eyes still lowered. His lips brushed
lightly against Nezumi's.
A book fell somewhere with a soft whump.
As Shion 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," Shion
said. "There are a whole lot of them with long fur. Inukashi
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."
Shion laughed out loud, and gave a casual wave of his
hand.
"Good night, then."
"Yeah. Sweet dreams."
 "You too."
Shion 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 --
CHAPTER 5
In Falsity's Company

In days of old, the Buddha

was but a mortal;
in the end, we ourselves
will be buddhas too.
 How grievous that distinctions
must separate those
who are alike in sharing
the Buddha-nature!
- Tales of Heike: Giou [1]

Shion slowly raised himself off the floor.

Only a few dying embers remained in the heater, and
the room was freezing cold. Cravat, who had been curled
up against Shion's body, raised his head and chirruped
softly.
"Shh―" Shion drew his blanket around the little mouse.
"Here, you sleep in this. Just please don't make any noise,
okay?"
Shion had gotten so used to this room that he could
find his way even in the dark. He padded stealthily to the
door. He unlatched it, and before opening it, he turned
back again. He listened carefully. There was not a noise.
It looked like the pain from Nezumi's wound hadn't
kept him from sleeping. I guess a wound that small
wouldn't be enough to keep him awake. There were so
many things he still needed to tell Nezumi. The joy of
meeting him, the gratitude for everything he had done for
him, and the profound respect he had for him ― Shion had
not been able to get any of these adequately across.
I'm glad I met you.
That was all I was able to say.
 Shion inhaled the air of the room deeply, just once,
before quietly opening the door.
***

The lamp flashed, signalling a call from a direct

extension to City Hall. The man lifted his face from the
research documents he had been perusing, and lightly
clucked his tongue in irritation. The document, which had
been printed decades ago on paper, was very intriguing,
and he wished to read a little further. But the lamp was
flashing red, signalling an emergency situation. The man
clucked his tongue again, and put the documents away in
a folder.
When he pressed the switch, the familiar face of a
man appeared on-screen. He was a man who used to be
called Fennec.
Fennec ― the desert fox. Who was it that had first
started calling him that?
"What's the matter, Fennec?"
"We have an emergency. Two samples have been
brought into the Central Hospital."
"Something the matter with that?"
"Both of them aren't registered as representative
samples in the data."
"What?"
 "They're different from the samples you've requested
from us. Things are happening on their own, outside of our
control."
"Perhaps it's too early to conclude that they're
samples. Couldn't something else be the cause?"
Fennec shook his head. The screen promptly changed
to another image. An audio clip read out the two bodies'
personal information.
Name, age, address, occupation, history of illness,
physical measurements, citizenship number...
A man and a woman. Two bodies. Both their faces
were contorted in suffering, and were aged and shrivelled.
It if weren't for their facial expressions, their cause of
death would easily have passed as old age. But the
documented age of one of them was in the twenties, the
other in his late thirties.
"You're right, they must have done it," the man
muttered. The screen flickered again, and Fennec's scowl
was displayed largely. The man exhaled quietly.
"...What could this all mean?"
"I think I would like to know that!" Fennec raised his
voice, and his ears twitched indignantly. Ah, yes. This was
a habit of his. Since he was young, he had always had the
habit of twitching his ears when his emotions were
agitated. That was why he was called Fennec. A fennec
fox was a small fox with the longest ears of its kind,
reaching up to fifteen centimetres.
 "But how could something unexpected like this
happen?" Fennec continued. "I don't believe it. What's
going on?"
"Something must have gone wrong somewhere," the
man answered. "But it's insignificant. It's nothing you
should be worried about."
Fennec's throat contracted as he swallowed at the
man's words.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course."
"You have the highest responsibility in this project, you
know."
"Not officially," the man added. "Well, but then again,
nothing about this project has been publicized officially."
"But if this succeeds, then No. 6's City Project will
finally be perfect and complete. Right?"
"Yes."
"Then even minor slip-ups can't be permitted."
"I know. I'll launch an investigation immediately
looking into the cause. I want you to send the bodies over
to the Special Autopsies Room, Section V."
"I've already got it underway."
"Then I'll get to work straightaway."
"Please do. I'll be waiting for the report."
 "Roger."
"Oh, yes," Fennec added. "Once this mess has quieted
down somewhat, I'm planning another clean-up."
"Clean-up? That's something I haven't heard in a long
time. Say, it's almost the Holy Celebration, isn't it?"
"Yes, the same reverent day is coming again. If you
need any for your experiments, I can arrange for as many
as you need. What say you?"
"I am most humbled by the kind considerations of His
Excellency."
"None of that embellished formality, if you will."
"But you'll eventually become the absolute ruler of this
land," the man said. "The one and only King. I'd have to
start calling you Your Highness."
"And what would you have me call you?"
"I'll stay as I am. If I'm still provided with the same
top-notch research facilities and environment as I am now,
then I have nothing more to ask."
"Sparse in your wants as always, I see. Then I trust
you'll have the work done."
The screen silently went blank. The man let his gaze
flit over the documents he had only partially read.
Unfortunately, it looked like he would not be able to read
through the rest of it today.
They were documents concerning a species of ants
called Eciton burchelli, which inhabited Central and South
Americas. These ants, which formed colonies numbering
up to 500,000, did not live in one static place, but instead
repeated cycles of temporary encampment and migration
until their life was spent. There was only one queen ant
that reigned over the colony of 500,000. But the queen's
sole purpose in the colony was to lay eggs, and she was
not necessarily in control of its members. Warrior ants and
worker ants, large and small, all moved accordingly to
their instinct, and as a result, the colony functioned
seamlessly as if they were governed by a great common
intellect.
Ants, and bees too, had created the ideal social
system.
There was no way that humans could not do what
insects already did. Each would obediently fill his role.
Without thinking, without being interrupted by suspicions,
they would take to their task. Brains were unnecessary.
Souls were of no use.
A colony of 500,000, and a single one to reign over all.
You say I'm sparse in my wants, do you? You're right,
Fennec, I desire nothing. I have no need for desire. I
never have to suffer from being dominated by my desires,
like you do.
The man smiled discreetly, and pushed the button for
the elevator leading directly to the Special Autopsies
Room.
***
 A frost had fallen. The frozen grass underneath his
shoes made crunching sounds as he trod over them. When
the sun rose, the frost would sparkle white, and the
barren expanse would be enveloped in light for a fleeting
instant. But it was too early ― the sun had yet to rise for a
while longer. Shion stopped in his tracks, and lifted his
face to the northern sky. He wanted to reach the
Correctional Facility before dawn. He had no idea what he
would do once he arrived. But he had to go. It was all he
could think about. Why had Safu been impounded in the
Correctional Facility, when she was supposed to be
abroad? Was it in connection with him? If it was, then
would Karan's safety also be compromised? Uncertainty
and fretful misgivings coursed through his body, blocked
his airway, and pressed against his heart. He didn't want to
lose anyone, neither his mother, Safu, nor Nezumi. He
would do anything to protect them. But he was frustrated
at himself for not being able to come up with how he
would do so.
Even now, as he was walking, Safu was probably alone
and frightened. He had to do something. He had to save
her and get her out. But what was he to do? How could
he―
Cheep-cheep.
A soft cry. His feet stopped. His eyes, which had
gotten used to the darkness, trained on a small rodent
poking its face out from the grass.
"Cravat?"
 He scooped up the tiny mouse in his hands.
"Did you follow me out here? Go home, you shouldn't
be―" He realized as soon as he had said it out loud, that
this mouse was not Cravat. It wasn't Hamlet, either. It
wasn't even alive. This mouse carried no sign of the
warmth that living animals did.
"This is― a robot―?"
"He's the navigator." There was a voice behind him. He
didn't have to turn around to know who the voice belonged
to. Shion took a few measured breaths, and slowly turned
his body around.
Nezumi was also approaching him slowly. He plucked
the miniscule robot from Shion's hands, and tossed it into
a pouch.
"It's a simple navigator robot with three-dimensional
mapping functions. It was warning you because you were
going in the wrong direction."
"The wrong direction―"
"Weren't you going to Inukashi's place? You were gonna
give those long-haired dogs a trim because their skin was
getting inflamed, weren't you? Leaving awfully early, huh?
How diligent of you. But this isn't the way."
Shion inhaled the frigid air of dawn yet to come.
"This has nothing to do with you," he said bitingly. "It's
none of your business what I do, or where I go. I'm sick
and tired of you trying to act like my guardian. I'm not a
helpless baby. Just leave me alone. You know what," he
said, "it's enough. If you still think of four years ago as a
debt, then let me tell you now, it's paid back. You've given
more than enough already. From now on, I'm going to be
free. I'm going to do as I please, without being strapped
down by you. That's my decision, so don't get in my way."
He ran out of breath, and lapsed into silence. It was
too dark to see the expression on Nezumi's face. His
shadowy figure shifted slightly, and he could hear a soft
applause.
"That's quite some recitation for an amateur. Maybe
you do have a talent for acting after all. Certainly better
than yesterday's kiss, at least."
"Nezumi, what―"
He thought he saw Nezumi's right hand swing upwards,
and then a hard blow struck his cheek. Shion staggered,
and fell backwards. The taste of blood spread inside his
mouth.
"―what was―!"
"Get yourself up if you have the time to be asking
questions. The next one's coming."
The tip of Nezumi's boot swung straight toward him.
Shion instinctively rolled to the side.
"Don't just stop there. Keep moving, keep the flow."
 A kick landed firmly in Shion's ribs. His breath caught
in his throat. He blindly grasped at a handful of pebbles
that littered the grassy patch.
"Don't close your eyes. Don't look away from your
opponent's attacks. Move!"
Shion twisted around to whip the pebbles at Nezumi,
and at the same time, kicked off the ground and tried to
ram into him with his shoulder. His feet were swept from
under him, and he was slammed to the ground. This time,
he could not get up again. He could see the stars. The
stars that scattered across the sky yet untouched by dawn
twinkled almost frightfully bright.
He was grabbed by the arm, and pulled up off the
ground.
"Shion, this is punishment."
"Punishment for what?"
"You lied to me."
"Well―"
"You'll admit that, won't you?"
"Yeah... I guess."
"Your second crime. You belittled me."
"I never did that."
"Lying to someone means you're belittling him. Did you
think I would fall for your lame excuse? If that's not an
insult to me, I don't know what the hell is."
 "It was my best attempt," Shion protested feebly.
"Well, you'd make a horrible politician or writer, seeing
how you can't even conceive a realistic lie."
"Was it that bad?"
"Atrocious. But this is what pisses me off the most,
Shion―"
"Yeah?"
"That you must've figured I was some brat who couldn't
tell one kind of kiss from the other. What good-night kiss,
huh? Bullshit."
Nezumi knelt in front of Shion, and gripped his collar
tightly.
"You hear me? Never give me a farewell kiss again.
Ever."
"I'm sorry."
"And never lie to me again."
"I won't."
"Swear it."
"I swear."
The hand released him. Nezumi settled into a sitting
position, and looked up at the heavens.
"I've heard there are strange things happening inside
No. 6."
"Strange?"
 "I don't know the details, but Inukashi is gathering
information for me. If we do it well, maybe we can use old
man Rikiga and get some information through his
customers, too. And it looks like stuff is going on in the
Correctional Facility as well. There's commotion
happening both inside and outside of No. 6 at the same
time. A little weird, don't you think?"
"Correctional Facility? Nezumi, are you saying―"
"Your important friend, or whatever ― you called her
your best friend, right? ― I've known about her for a
while."
He handed Karan's memo to Shion. Shion's fingers
began to tremble after he had read the note.
"Your Mama is safe for now. I'm not so sure about your
bestie. But don't panic. Right now, we have to gather all
the information we can and set down a plan. Inukashi says
he'll help. This is all preparation so that we can infiltrate
the Correctional Facility as soon as possible. Understand?
We're not going in there to get killed. We're going in there
to save her. Be calm."
Shion nodded.
"So I've finally dragged you into the mess, too."
"It's not your fault. Inukashi says he smells something,
and frankly, I have my own suspicions too. Why would they
need to imprison a precious member of their elite? There's
a chance that it might have to do with the wasp
incidents."
 "The parasite wasps, huh... but they're not active this
time of year."
"That's why something must've happened, something
unexpected. And if it has, then it might be worth risking
the danger. Whatever the case, whenever Inukashi gets
into contact with me is when we make our next move.
Until then, we have to gather our own information and
start making preparations."
Nezumi stood up, and spoke in a beautiful voice that
rang out crystalline.
"Cheer up. Things will work out. We'll make them work
out."
"Thanks. You've saved me again."
"Things are just getting started."
Shion stood up as well, and called the name of the boy
who stood beside him.
"Nezumi."
"Hm?"
"Mind if I―"
"Huh? What?"
As Nezumi turned to peer inquisitively at him, Shion
slapped him across the face as hard as he could. Nezumi,
of course, didn't so much as stagger ― but he was certainly
startled. After drawing a breath, he yelled,
"―the hell was that for?"
 "It's punishment."
"Punishment?"
"You hid things from me. You didn't even mention a
word to me about this memo."
"What would telling you do, anyway? I couldn't have
you wandering off by yourself like you did tonight. I did
you a favour and looked out for you. Or what, are you
saying I don't have the right to be worried about ― wait,
I've heard this line somewhere before."
"Worrying about me and hiding things from me are two
completely different issues. It's not like I want to be
sheltered by you. I don't want to coast along living the
easy life, always being protected by you. I want―"
Shion softly clenched his fingers around his palm, on
which he could still feel the sensation of Nezumi's cheek.
"I want to be equals with you."
Nezumi hunched his shoulders, and lifted his right
hand in a pledge.
"I admit my mistake. I won't do it again."
"Do you swear it?"
"I swear herewith upon my battered cheek."
In the distance, a cock was crowing. Even in this
darkness, it could sense the coming of dawn, and heralded
it loudly and shrilly. In moments, the eastern skies would
lighten, and the light of the sun would wipe the darkness
away. The first day of their battle was about to begin.
***

Safu was trying to wake up. She could feel her

consciousness gradually beginning to return. But her
physical sensations were still murky.
Where am I?
What am I doing here?
Am I dreaming?
I have to remember.
Remember what?
My very precious person.
Precious person.
"Safu."
She could hear a voice very closeby, a man's voice.
No.
It's not this voice.
The voice I'm waiting for
isn't this voice.
"How are you feeling? I daresay you must be feeling a
little different from what you're used to? But you'll get
used to it in no time. I hope you like this special suite. It's
the best you could ask for, and it's especially for you,
Safu."
I don't like this voice.
Don't call my name.
Don't call my name
 with that voice.
"Safu, you are quite beautiful. Even more than I
imagined. Beautiful, indeed. I'm very satisfied."
I don't like this voice, and
I don't like this smell.
It smells like ― blood.
The smell of blood.
"I'm rather busy today. I'll come again, Safu. You should
relax and rest a little as well."
The footsteps faded away, and so did the stench of
blood. She was relieved.
But why
Why is everything so
hazy?
But I
From the margins of her consciousness, which was not
completely recovered yet, a flash of a figure emerged
vividly.
Those eyes, those nails, that mouth, the faraway
gaze, the energetic smile, or that clouded expression, the
long fingers ― and oh, she could hear his voice.
"I always thought of you as a friend."
He was always such a child. He had never even
realized her feelings for him. But there he was,
desperately searching and yearning for someone else. She
had loved that childish, but intent soul of his. She had
loved him like she could love no other. Even now―
She was fading out of consciousness. The darkness
gently draped over her.
I'll never see you again....
Shion.

Shion spent the majority of the day taking care of the

dogs. There had been no sign of Inukashi in the morning,
so Shion had had to prepare food for and groom ten
some-odd dogs all by himself. He had barely any time to
rest, but he didn't feel the labour to be onerous. On the
contrary, he was actually grateful for it. Immersed in his
work, he could forget his agitation, even for a short while.
Don't rush, and wait patiently. Act calmly.
Nezumi's words were certainly persuasive, and he had
no choice but to nod his head, but still he couldn't help his
agitation. He could not remain calm.
Even while I'm going about this now, Safu is...
Every time the thought crossed his mind, his emotions
would be thrown into disarray, he would panic, and he
would bite his lip until it bled.
A dog whined forlornly. It was one from a litter of
puppies that had been born at the start of fall. Shion
realized he had been staring off into space in the middle
of making their meal.
 "Oh, sorry."
He hastily scooped the stewed leftovers into their food
bowls. The puppies fiercely wagged their identical tails as
they dipped their faces into the food. In the kind of
circumstances where even humans starved to death,
Inukashi managed to provide for his dogs with enough so
that they did not starve.
The leftover food was shipped into the ruins in the
middle of the night, and was sorted into food for humans,
which would be shipped to the market, and the rest,
which was used for dog feed. Shion finally knew where it
came from now. Inukashi was probably tracing this route.
Nezumi, too, had disappeared in an early part of the
morning.
What could he do?
The more he thought about it, the more he came
face-to-face with his own powerlessness. It agitated him.
He could not stay calm. And he would bite his lip again,
and try to endure.
There was a warm sensation on the back of his hand.
He looked down to see a puppy intently licking his hand.
Cravat poked his head out from the breast-pocket of his
sweater, and ducked back inside again.
He wanted to show Safu this puppy, and this little
mouse. He wanted to let her touch them, and let her feel
the warmth of their little tongues and bodies.
 Safu was dear to him. She was precious to him. But it
was different from the amorous sense ― it was more
serene, more deeply connected. He loved her like family,
like a close friend. Whatever kind of love it was made no
change to the fact that he cared about her.
He closed his eyes. He called her name.
Safu.
"You want me to co-operate with you?" Rikiga made a
clearly distasteful expression.
"Yeah," Nezumi answered. "I want you to glean
information from your customers." Nezumi seated himself
snugly into the chair, and put his feet up on the table.
"Information? You mean about the Holy City?"
"Yeah."
"What's in it for me?"
"Enormous riches."
Rikiga stood up, and strode over to Nezumi. They were
in a room of the building Rikiga used as his workplace. It
was a room littered with magazines and empty bottles,
and it reeked of alcohol. Looking down at Nezumi, Rikiga
twisted his mouth in a scowl.
"Some long legs you've got, huh. Showing off?"
"What an honour to be complimented by you. These
are the money-makers, I gotta keep them in shape."
 Rikiga's hand rapped sharply on the pair of legs flung
out onto the table.
"Get your feet off my table. It's obvious what kind of
upbringing you've had," he said scornfully. "Don't even
know your basic manners, do you?"
"I use my manners with people who deserve them."
"Not to mention your filthy language," Rikiga
continued. "And this favour you're asking for, is this some
kind of act? Are you practicing for some new part you've
got?"
"It's a real issue."
"A real issue, huh. Enormous riches, you say?
Ridiculous."
Nezumi glanced at Rikiga's face, and flashed a faint
smile.
"What's wrong?" he said. "This is about making a
fortune ― you love this kind of stuff. Not feeling up for it?"
"What makes you think I'm gonna believe what some
third-rate, fraud of an actor tells me?"
"Then who would you listen to? Shion?"
Rikiga's gaze wavered.
"Shion? Does Shion have something to do with this?"
"He has a lot to do with it."
"Did you get him involved, Eve?"
 "No. Shion sowed the seeds, they're just growing in my
yard."
"What do you mean?"
"If you agree to help me, I'll tell you."
"Spit it out."
"First, I want you to show me your customers' stats.
When's the next time a high official from No. 6 is gonna
come to have a good time? I want to know his name, and
position."
Rikiga exhaled shortly, and folded his arms.
"Eve, how old are you?"
"Younger than you, old man."
"You must be young enough to be my son. I've been
meaning to say this for a while, but a brat like you has no
right to look down on adults like this. You're bound to
serve the consequences."
With his eye still trained on Nezumi, Rikiga called out,
"Conk," in a loud voice. The door to the next room
opened, and a large man walked in.
"He's my new bodyguard," Rikiga said. "Just got him
hired. He used to be a wrestler, and people used to bet on
the matches. He's nearly killed several people with his
bare hands. On the ring, and off the ring too."
The man silently gazed down at Nezumi. He was so
large, he made the dirty room seem a size smaller just by
walking in.
 "Conk, I want you to give this little prince here a
proper welcome. You don't have to kill him. Just enough so
that he'd never be able to make another smart comeback
again."
"Huh?" Conk stuttered. "Uh―"
"Don't 'uh' me, I'm telling you to teach this kid what a
punch from a real adult is like," Rikiga said irritably.
Conk licked his lips, and took a step forward. And
another step. Nezumi stood up. Rikiga smiled
contemptuously.
"This is the punishment you deserve, Eve. The full
extent of it."
Conk's feet stopped.
"Eve ― is it really you, Eve?"
Nezumi smiled, and proffered his hand in a delicate
gesture. His sensual smile made even Rikiga blink.
"So your name is Conk? Pleased to meet you, Conk.
Thank you for always coming to see me on stage. I would
never have dreamt that I'd be able to meet you here. I'm
so happy."
"Oh ― Eve, me too."
Conk blushed crimson, and gently clasped the hand
that was offered to him.
"I've always been a fan of yours ― I've seen almost all
of your performances―"
 "I know. You stood out, so I always knew whenever you
came to my shows. You'd even send me gifts sometimes.
I've always wanted to thank you directly."
"Really? You ― you could really tell when ― when I―"
"Of course. And last time, you even cried. I was
watching you from on-stage, too, you know."
"Watching? You were watching me?"
"Watching you."
"Eve ― I don't know how to say ― I ―"
"You're overwhelmed?"
"Yeah, overwhelmed. With happiness. I've never been
so happy. I feel like I'm floating on air."
"Thank you, Conk," Nezumi said pleasantly. "And I hate
to disturb you, but I'd like to have a nice, long talk with
Rikiga-san. Would you be so kind and pour me a cup of
coffee?"
"Of course. Anything to eat?"
"That would be nice. Do you have meat pie, by any
chance?"
"Yeah. I'll bring it rightaway."
Conk disappeared into the next room with amazing
swiftness for his stature. Rikiga shook his head.
"Coffee and pie, huh? That stuff is all mine, you know,"
Rikiga grumbled.
 "Don't complain, or he'd probably punch you. You said
so yourself. Ex-wrestler. Nearly killed several people.
Right?"
"I can see why his wife kicked him out of the house,"
Rikiga said bitterly. "He's completely useless when you
need him the most."
"He's a good guy. Probably makes excellent coffee."
Rikiga clucked his tongue three times.
"That's quite something, Eve. Not only can you handle
a knife, can you also use sex appeal to your advantage
too?"
"Both make good weapons."
"Then use that weapon you've got."
Nezumi lowered himself into a chair and crossed his
legs.
"Eve, you're no rat," Rikiga continued. "You're a
cunning white demon fox, great at manipulating people.
Now, I don't know how many tails you've got, but I've got a
man who likes that kind of thing. He's an elite, works at
the Central Administration Bureau. He's my best
customer."
"Does that mean you're co-operating with me?"
Nezumi's face was sombre. Rikiga's face was also grave.
"I've also heard that there's been commotion recently
inside No. 6."
"News reaches you quick, huh. I'm impressed."
 "Don't try to flatter me with things you don't mean.
Staying on top of the news is what keeps my business
running. But really," he said bemusedly. "This is the first
time I've heard about anything out-of-line coming from
that place. And that's how many decades since the Holy
City came to be? It's probably about time things started
fraying at the seams. And if that's the case, then I want to
know more. I'm still concerned about these things, Eve.
And if Shion's involved ― then I don't want to turn a blind
eye."
"Is he precious to you?"
"He reminds me of Karan. And unlike you, he's truthful
and kind. He's a good kid. Karan raised him well. She
probably showered him with love."
"What's wrong, old man?"
"What?"
"Why so solemn? You sick or something?"
"Leave me alone," Rikiga snapped. "When I'm with
Shion, I just feel at peace. I'm not sure why ― but anyway,
I'll show you my customers' data files. Once that's done,
let's hear your story. I'm not sure if it'll amount to
'enormous riches', but it might be of some interest to me."
"That's what you're really after, isn't it?"
"Say what you will."
The aroma of coffee wafted over to him.
Nezumi thought about Shion.
 Showered with love ― he probably very well had been.
His recklessness, his liberality, his straightforwardness, his
wide acceptance, were probably all tokens of the ample
amount of love he had been given. Shion had probably
never experienced what it was like to grovel for love. That
was fortunate of him. But love could sometimes be
reversed into its opposite. Love could attract hatred, and
bear the banner for destruction.
Hopefully, the love that had raised Shion, the love that
resided within Shion, would not become the chains that
bound him, nor the hand that led him to death―
Nezumi deeply inhaled the fragrant smell, barely
managing to prevent a sigh from escaping his lips.

Inukashi trudged along the path, cocking his head ever

so often in perplexity.
He didn't know how to sort through the information he
had gathered. It was like sorting through ore, separating
the gems from the rocks. From the reams of information,
he had to select those that mattered, build the parts into
a structure, and draw a conclusion. He wasn't very good at
these processes.
Oh well. They'll figure the rest out. My job is just to
dump all the ore out in front of them. But I can't help
thinking―
He stopped his feet on a whim, and craned his neck. In
the distance, he could see the fortress walls of No. 6. The
special alloy reflected the light of winter. Inukashi had
never thought about that land deeply. It was just an
entirely different world, glittering in the distance. That
was it. His only concern had been to survive the day's
deprivation, and managing not to starve. He had never
linked his ordeal with the shining Holy City. But Nezumi
was different. He was constantly occupied with No. 6
itself.
Why did he insist on concerning himself? What bound
him to it?
Love and hatred were no different in that they were
both entrapments.
There was a gust of wind. It was chilly. Sometime
tomorrow, the weather would probably change.
Inukashi curled up, and gave a small sneeze.
He'd been taken ahold of, he knew it. He'd been taken
ahold of firmly by Nezumi's persistent intentions, and
Shion's resolution.
No, that's not it. Half of it is me sticking my own foot
in.
It wasn't because he had been threatened by Nezumi,
or because he felt pity for Shion. He had stepped in on his
own will.
But why?
He questioned himself, but did not receive an answer.
Why? Why have I―
He craned his neck again to survey the Holy City.
 Over there, the Holy City of No. 6 glitters, and over
here is where we spend our daily lives. The amount of
leftovers that No. 6 spits out in a single day is enough to
easily satisfy the hunger of all the people here. Just
leftovers. Half-eaten food, for god's sakes.
Gluttony and starvation, extravagance and poverty,
rejoicing of life and fear of death, arrogance and
debasement―
Would he be able to change it?
Inukashi walked briskly in the wind. His hair rippled
and streamed out behind him.
Would he be able to change the reality he had
resigned himself to, the days he had struggled to survive,
his life which had long been stripped of any dignity as a
human being?
Ridiculous. It's just a fairy tale. Besides, what can we
do now that― But Nezumi had, and so had Shion. Nezumi
and Shion believed. They believed that they would be able
to change things with their own power.
Inukashi couldn't bring himself to laugh at them for it.
The thought, the possibility, had crossed his mind.
This is bad.
One misstep, and he probably wouldn't live to see
spring.
This is bad. This is very bad.
 But he was lighthearted. He felt so buoyant he felt
like breaking out into song.
As he whistled a light tune, the wind hitting his body,
Inukashi found himself breaking into a run.

Shion finished neatly combing the last dog, and sank

down on the spot. He had to admit that he was exhausted.
The whole day today he had devoted to taking care of the
dogs. He felt like he'd become a dog himself. It was
already dusk.
The puppies nudged at him playfully.
"Alright, alright. Come along, then, all your fleas
should be gone now." He had just scooped one of them up
when Cravat gave a squeak from his pocket. Shion lifted
his face.
Nezumi was standing right in front of him. He had not
realized it. He had felt no presence at all. But of course,
by this time, it was no surprise to him either.
Shion put the puppy down, and stood up without a
word. Nezumi, also silent, jerked his chin. He began
walking straight toward the ruins.
"Nezumi ― you got word from Inukashi?"
"The two of them are waiting for us."
"Two?"
They climbed the crumbling stairs, and opened the
door at the end of the hall. On top of the small, round
table, a candle was burning. Inukashi and Rikiga were
seated.
"They've graciously offered their help. Let's be
thankful, Shion."
"Graciously?" Inukashi scoffed, and gave an
exaggerated sigh. "I don't think you call getting
threatened, bribed, or tricked into doing something
'gracious', Nezumi."
Shion took a step forward, and bowed his head deeply.
He had no words to say. He felt like no words would be
able to express how grateful he felt.
"Thank you ― all of you." This typical statement was
all he could say.
"Shion, no need to be serious about it," Nezumi
quipped. "They've all got ulterior motives. They're only
here because they were attracted to the sweet scent of
personal profit."
"Eve, one of these days, that cheeky tongue of yours is
gonna rot and fall off. That much I'm sure of." Rikiga had a
bottle of whisky in his right hand, one that he had
evidently brought along with him. He took a swig, and
swallowed it slowly.
Nezumi indicated with his gaze for Shion to sit, and
then lowered himself into a chair as well. Inukashi was the
one who stood up.
"Can I start, Nezumi?"
 "Yeah. Go ahead."
Shion made a tight fist in his lap. I've gotten all these
people involved. I'm the one that did it. I can't let myself
forget that.
A hand suddenly reached over to him. It was Nezumi's.
It gently pried Shion's fist open, finger by finger, gently, as
if toying with it.
"We're just getting started. Tense up like that, and you
won't last."
With his gaze fixed on the fluttering flame of the
candle, Nezumi spoke as if to himself. There was probably
a draft coming in from somewhere, for the flame kept
flickering. It was already completely dark outside. A long
day was coming to a close. No, things were just starting.
They were starting right here.
"This week, the number of prisoners escorted into the
Correctional Facility was three. Among them..." Inukashi
trailed off while staring at the candle, then resumed. The
darkness edged in on them. The flame flickered. "Among
them, there were no women. There were no escorts from
within the city. All three of them were men from the West
Block."
Nezumi questioned him in a low voice.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yeah. I heard it directly from the guy who's in charge
of preparing the prisoner's clothes. There were three of
them recorded in the Prisoner Registration data. They
tried to break into the Access Control Office to steal
money. They were either hungry enough to do it, or they
were funny in the head. Either way, there were no
women."
"That can't be!" Shion sprang up from his seat.
There was no way that could be. But at the same
time, his heart softened just for an instant. What if Safu
was actually safe? Maybe that coat was just my mistake,
and it didn't belong to Safu. Maybe―
"If that's true, then things are gonna be complicated."
Nezumi furrowed his brow. His voice was cold, like the
draft that made the flame flicker.
"Complicated?"
"It means that she's probably not a legitimate prisoner.
I know it's weird to call a prisoner legitimate, but if she's
not registered as one in the Correctional Facility, then―
Shion, it means she doesn't even exist as a prisoner. She's
been erased."
"Erased..."
"The moment your friend got captured by the Security
Bureau, all of her data as a citizen would have been
erased. In normal circumstances, it would've just been
forwarded to the Correctional Facility's main computer,
and been filed as prisoner data. Then, once inside the
Facility, all her personal information would be re-collected
and added to, along with photos from all sides, height,
weight, fingerprint, vocal signature, iris, and her finger
vein. Only after these procedures do prisoners really
become prisoners. It wouldn't matter so much for thieves
from the West Block, but if their subject is a former
citizen of No. 6, then they would definitely be thorough
about these things. But this time, it wasn't done at all.
Why? So as not to leave any trace that your friend ever
existed."
"Hey, Nezumi." Rikiga noisily placed his bottle on the
table. "Can't you go about things a bit more delicately? All
this talk about erasing and leaving traces... it's almost like
you're saying the girl... uh, Safu, was it? You make it sound
like this Safu girl has already been murdered."
"I think you're more lacking in delicacy than me, old
man."
Shion swallowed hard while he listened to the two
speak. He didn't feel well. He felt like he was in a nasty
bout of drunkenness. But now wasn't the time to slump
over the table and go to sleep.
Safu....
"Safu was an outstanding human resource," Shion said
evenly. "The city has spent a lot of money and time on her
raising her from childhood. They've been raising her to
have a future career in the upper echelons of the city.
Why would they erase her? It would be a huge loss to the
city, too, if they did."
His own voice sounded like a stranger's to his ears. It
was a hoarse and irritating voice.
 "Yeah, that's the problem," Nezumi agreed. "Why were
they so willing to wipe out an elite they've kept
domesticated with all this time and money? It's not likely
she's gone and done something idiotic, like you did when
you were twelve."
Inukashi's nose twitched.
"What idiotic thing? Does it have something to do with
why Shion got kicked out of No. 6?"
"It does. But that's not relevant right now. Shion."
"Yeah..."
"What's your friend's family structure?"
"Safu didn't have any parents. I think the only relative
she had was her grandmother. She said she'd been raised
by her."
"Just her grandmother, huh. Which means if Grandma
dies, then Bestie is left without relatives."
"Yeah..."
Shion lifted his face, and his gaze met with a pair of
grey eyes. He could finally understand what Nezumi was
trying to get at.
"Even if Safu disappears, there would be no relatives
to make a big deal about it. And not only that―"
"What else?"
 "Safu was supposed to be living in another city for two
years on exchange. Even if she went missing from No. 6,
no one would find it strange."
"That probably about sums it up, then. She's an elite,
has no relatives, and wouldn't raise suspicions if she went
missing for a long time. Your best friend filled those
requirements. That's why she was apprehended and
imprisoned in the Correctional Facility. Not as a prisoner,
but―"
"Not as a prisoner― then what for?"
"I don't know." Nezumi shook his head. Inukashi leaned
forward.
"Hey, does that have something to do with the
rumours? The one about the weird disease going around
inside No. 6."
"Do you have the details on that?"
"No," Inukashi said promptly. "It's not that easy to get
information about what's going on inside that city, you
know. This might be more of a job for Mr. Alcoholic."
Rikiga drained the rest of the contents of his bottle,
and glared at Inukashi with bloodshot eyes.
"I don't think Doggy-boy has any right to call me an
alcoholic. As for inside information about the city, I can't
get it rightaway. Earliest would be the day after tomorrow.
But I'm warning you, Eve, just because you have all the
information you need, it doesn't mean things are going to
go well. How do you plan on infiltrating the Correctional
Facility?"
There was no answer. Rikiga hunched his shoulders.
"What're you gonna do? Attack the Access Control
Office like those three lunatics, and get arrested on
purpose?"
"Can't do that," Nezumi said brusquely. "All my
personal information is recorded on their main computer."
"Oh? So it was true that you'd once been in the
Correctional Facility. Ah, so there is a way to get out of
that place alive, huh. What a surprise. Give me an
autograph, will you, I'll hang it on my wall. Of course, with
your real name."
Nezumi ignored Rikiga's joke. The flame flickered
violently. The wind had probably gotten stronger.
"Inukashi ― how about the security system?"
"I couldn't get anything too specific. I've got the main
points down. And there seems to be a new facility that's
been built underground."
"New facility? For what?"
"I dunno. Even the custodians aren't allowed to go in
there. Supposedly there's an elevator that leads directly to
the top floor, but it also has an elaborate physical
recognition system that only a fraction of people can log
into."
 "Top-secret and confidential, huh... and this facility is
located in the Correctional Facility, and not the Moondrop.
I see."
Nezumi lapsed into his thoughts. Shion fixed his gaze
on Nezumi's profile.
"Nezumi."
"What?"
"Getting arrested would be the easiest and most
surefire way, right?"
"In a sense. But once you get inside like that, there'd
be no room for free movement at all."
"Is it impossible to rescue Safu? Isn't there even a
single percent of possibility that we can save her?"
Nezumi gazed at Shion with a mixture of cold
indifference and pity.
"You're in the same boat as me," he said. "They've got
all your personal information on file. Say we get arrested
and they scan through your data. It wouldn't even take
them a second to match you up with the first-class
criminal on the run. If fortunes work in your favour, you'd
be sent to a solitary cell. If they don't, you'd be executed
on the spot."
Rikiga erupted into a fit of coughs. Inukashi drew his
chair back with a large screech.
"First-class criminal on the run? This dense boy here?
Wait a minute, Nezumi. I haven't heard a word of this."
 "Because I haven't told you."
Ignoring Inukashi and Rikiga's rapt gaze, Shion
persisted with Nezumi. There had to be something.
Somewhere, there had to be a possibility. Even if it was
slimmer than one percent, thinner than a spider's thread,
he had to grasp it and draw it toward him. Despair was not
permissible.
"If we get arrested as prisoners, does everyone get
searched immediately? Isn't there any way to avoid the
data-matching in the time between getting imprisoned
until we get Safu out?"
"No," Nezumi answered. "As soon as we get arrested,
they'd pull up all our personal information, and scan it
through their files. They won't let a single mole go
unnoticed. And then we'd get implanted with a V-Chip.
Prisoners are bound and placed under surveillance for the
whole time. We won't even get a second of free
movement."
"No exceptions?"
"No exceptions. Not a single―"
Nezumi abruptly swallowed his words. His face froze.
"Nezumi?"
At his sudden silence, Shion, Inukashi, and Rikiga held
their breaths and unconsciously trained their ears. A voice
spilled out into the silence.
"There is."
 "Huh?"
"There's just one exception."
Shion widened his eyes, and stared intently at
Nezumi's candlelit profile. Nezumi's lips moved.
"The Hunt." His voice was raspy, and very low.
Inukashi's body tensed in his chair. Rikiga dropped his
gaze from Nezumi, and gripped his liquor bottle.
"Hunt? What's that?" Shion looked around at the other
three faces. There was no answer from any of them. The
darkness in the room thickened. Inukashi sighed.
Nighttime was approaching.
No. 6, glittering golden, would reign over the night. In
a corner of the West Block, in a room carved out amongst
the ruins, at the very bottom of the deep of the night, the
four of them silently sat surrounding a flickering flame.
There was the sound of the wind. It moaned as if it
called to someone, as if in yearning. And the night
enveloped it all.
The wind whistled. The flame flickered, and went out
as if it had spent the last of its energy. Nezumi's whisper
echoed in the darkness. It was no longer hoarse.
"The Hunt ― that's the only exception."

-- END OF CHAPTER 5 --
***
We're coming back alive. Don't forget that...

***

CHAPTER 1
Curtain Up

Howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones!

Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so
That heaven's vault should crack! She's gone fore
ever.
- King Lear Act V Scene III [1]

Beyond the gate was a world of darkness.

It was freezing. The man shivered, and flipped the
collar of his jacket up. His coat was woven of the finest
cashmere, and it was lightweight and warm. It was also
equipped with an automatic sensor that registered the
temperature of the body and outside air to adjust the
temperature inside the coat accordingly. The sensor itself
was smaller, lighter, and slimmer than a postage stamp.
He could feel the biting coldness of the air on his
partially-exposed face, but the rest of his body was
enveloped comfortably in the warmth of his coat. So when
the man shivered, it was not because of the cold.
It was the darkness. It was too dark.
No. 6, where the man lived, was a city of light. It
sparkled and brimmed with it, regardless of whether it
was day or night. Light wasn't the only thing he had access
to freely: thanks to leaps in biotechnology, a steady supply
of food was always available, independent of seasonal or
weather conditions, and he had access to any manner of
foodstuffs. It was the same with energy supply. As long as
they were inside the city, people were able to lead an
abundant, secure and hygienic life. Apart from them,
there were five other city-states in the world, but no
other place had an environment as perfect as theirs. This
was the reason behind No. 6's second name of the Holy
City.
The man held an important position in the governing
body of the Holy City. Inside the Central Administration
Bureau, he held what was equivalent to the third most
powerful spot. He was an elite of the elites. His son, who
was turning three this year, had also scored highest in
intelligence in the past Children's Examinations. The man
was already receiving childrearing instruction through a
Special Curriculum. If no problems arose ― no problems
would arise, naturally, because in no way would anything
unpredictable happen inside the Holy City ― then his son,
as an elite as well, would be able to acquire a life which
lacked nothing. It was promised to him.
The man couldn't stop shivering. How dark it was. How
foreboding it was. He had no idea that nighttime could
bring such fathomless darkness. He had had no idea, until
he had stepped into this West Block.
What the hell is he doing?
 The man who was supposed to be there to fetch him,
wasn't. He was usually waiting for him in the cover of
darkness, but tonight, there was no sign of him at all.
Has something happened?
Maybe something has come up.
If so... then it isn't very good.
The man exhaled in the darkness.
It was best not to dawdle here any longer. He must
pass back through the gates, and return to the Holy City.
He must.
His reason commanded him to return, to turn on his
heel, and go back into comfort and light. But the man
could not move.
Just a little longer. I'll wait for five more minutes.
It was a lingering attachment. It was his attachment
for the few hours of pleasure and decadence that he was
about to enjoy. This attachment, for the few hours he
spent fooling around with women in the West Block,
weighed his feet down and prevented him from walking
away. How enticing it was to spend the hours in a drunken
stupor, in the company of women with hair and eyes in
every colour. It was almost a year now since he had first
been irresistibly drawn into this enticement. There was no
way out of it.
The City's management was getting stricter. General
citizens were restricted, naturally; but even the upper
echelons, which had had considerable freedom, were
being imposed with limitations. Travel between the city
and the West Block was one of the things which limits had
been placed upon.

All travel between other Blocks were prohibited unless

with a clear reason and an application to do so.
When the man had seen that section of the city's
notice, he remembered giving a small sigh. The Central
Administration Bureau was a department that singularly
managed all of the city's information. All personal files of
the citizens were naturally gathered here as well. Each
citizen's name, sex, birth date, family structure,
intelligence index, physical characteristics, physical
measurements, history of illness, curriculum vitae, were
all contained here. The daily actions of each and every
individual were recorded without fail and internalized as
data by the Central Administration Bureau, through the
numerous surveillance cameras and sensors placed
throughout the city, as well as the data-collection chips
embedded in their ID cards. This system was already
well-established.
Thorough management and centralization of data ―
and whether for better or for worse, this man was near
the heart of the system. He used his position to his
advantage to overwrite his personal records numerous
times. He had rewritten his file to say he had never
entered the West Block. He had destroyed his records.
 It was a crime, he was well aware. He was nervous of
what would happen to him if this was exposed, and at the
same time, he was confident that he would never be
found out. He drowned himself in euphoric ecstasy. At the
same time, he wanted to protect his secure life and
cowered at its destruction. And underneath was the
confident reassurance that he was an irreplaceable
member of the elite core, and that he would not be
persecuted so easily. Many emotions jostled inside the
man.
But in the end, he had given into his desires and
passed through the gates again tonight.
He's late, a little too late....
The man chewed his lip lightly.
I should probably give up for tonight.
Nothing was more dangerous than standing still like
this for a prolonged time, wrapped in the darkness of the
West Block. As the man turned to go back the way he had
come, a low voice called his name.
"Fura-sama." That was the man's name. The low voice
carried over to him in the darkness. "I apologize for
keeping you waiting."
Fura furrowed his brow, and hunched his shoulders
slightly.
"Is it you, Rikiga?"
"Yes. I've come to fetch you."
 "You're late."
"I'm terribly sorry. There was a slight delay."
"Delay? What happened?"
He could sense the darkness shift slightly as Rikiga
shook his head.
"Nothing to worry yourself about. No trouble for you in
the slightest sense, Fura-sama... actually ― ah ― you
could say I was delayed for the purpose of your further
enjoyment―"
"Which is to say?"
He could hear a vulgar laugh.
"It's taken me a bit of time to prepare a woman to
your liking." The vulgar laugh continued, and the darkness
coiled slimily. "But rest assured, it shall more than make
up for the time I've kept you waiting. I'm most certain
you'll be satisfied."
"Is she that good?"
"Exquisite specimen."
He swallowed. If he could, he would have raised his
own vulgar chuckle like Rikiga, but he restrained himself.
His position was like the heavens in relation to Rikiga
as the lowly earth. a resident of the West Block. He could
not bring himself down to that level.
For Fura, although the West Block was place that
provided him with lewd and luscious pleasures, those who
lived there ― Rikiga, or the women ― were not the same
humans as he. He saw them as insects, perhaps. No, that
was too harsh ― they were rather close to cattle. Humans
and cattle, the dominator and dominated. No. 6's
surrounding regions existed to serve the city ― that was
what he had been taught since childhood.
"―Shall we go, then?" Rikiga began to walk. Silently, he
followed behind.

The outdated gasoline automobile was uncomfortable

to ride, and bumped and jerked ever so often. The road
itself was full of potholes. Once in a while, the car
teetered dangerously. When Fura had first begun
frequenting the West Block, he had more than once raised
his voice in complaint, but now, he thought nothing of it.
As one who was used to the immaculately-paved roads of
No. 6 and hybrid cars fully equipped with
shock-absorption, the sudden bumps and sways were new
and refreshing. And more than anything, it tickled his
heart with the anticipation for things to come.
"So?"
Fura leaned forward in the back seat and questioned
him.
"What kind of girl is she?"
"I daresay she's a perfect match for your tastes. I'm
sure you'll like her."
"The last girl wasn't so great."
 "I know. But this girl, she's exactly as you like them,
Fura-sama. Small frame, slender ― and very young."
"Young, huh."
"Yes. Of course, this being the place it is, we're not
sure of her real age, but she's very young, for certain. So
she ― hasn't had experience with men yet."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. And not only that, it looks like she has the
blood of the southern lands in her veins. She has that sort
of appearance."
"Ah."
"We've many women with ripe bodies, but it's a little
difficult to find the younger ones. I could never send you a
scrawny, dirty brat to service you, Fura-sama, nor would I
be able to just pluck one off the street. And besides ― to
give this kind of job to a girl so young, and with no
experience, it is quite ― well, it certainly doesn't bode
well with my conscience, to say the least."
Liar. Fura retorted in his head. For money, you'd do
anything. Conscience, you say? Don't make me laugh.
Although he was no doubt deaf to Fura's words, Rikiga
let a dry chuckle escape his lips.
The car stopped. Inky-black darkness still surrounded
them outside.
"This is―?" It was different from the usual place Rikiga
prepared.
 "It's a hotel."
"Hotel?"
"A long time ago, this used to be quite a fashionable
one." Rikiga got out of the car, and lit a lamp. "The girl
and her family have made this place their home. The girl
said she'd only take customers if it was in her room, and
she wouldn't have it any other way ― she's still a child,
she's probably afraid of going to strange places."
"But―"
"It's nothing to worry about. We've had her family
removed temporarily. Tonight, you and the girl are the
only ones here, Fura-sama. ―Ah, no, that would be wrong.
She also has her dogs."
"What?"
"Dogs. The girl's father runs a business that deals with
dogs. There are swarms of them here."
Fura couldn't imagine what kind of business would deal
with dogs. A pet shop was certainly out of the question.
Were the dogs skinned and sold as meat?
"If you'll follow me, then. I would advise you to watch
your feet." Rikiga swung the lamp over. Fura glanced at his
profile, and carefully put his foot forward.
He did not trust this man, Rikiga. He had not a thread
of trust for him. But Fura knew for certain that he was a
regular and highly valued customer for Rikiga. There was
no way a man like him, who loved, prized, and trusted
money above all, would harm his best source of income. In
that sense, Fura had never felt any apprehension toward
the man that was now walking a few steps before him.
This building that Rikiga had said was once a
fashionable hotel, was now half-crumbled and mostly ruin.
Countless pieces of rubble littered the ground, and there
were puddles everywhere. The floor was slippery, but
whether it was because the flooring was rotting, or
because moss was growing on it, he didn't know. He was
unsteady on his leather-shoed feet. The wind nipped at his
cheeks. They ascended the stairs. He smelled a faint,
strange odour. It was an odour he had never smelled inside
No. 6, and he had no idea what it could be. They crossed a
bare, spacious area that looked like it had been a lobby,
and ascended further still.
"Oh―"
He spoke without thinking. His feet were rooted to the
spot. It was what looked like a narrow hallway that
stretched straight before him. At least, it looked like it
ran straight into the darkness, but he had no idea what
was beyond the darkness that shrouded it; Fura's eyesight,
unused to darkness, could not make it out.
Lit by the dim light of the lamp, he could see shadowy
figures hunched over here and there.
"Dogs?"
"Yes."
"Why are there so many? For what purpose...?"
 "Ah, well, there are many reasons, but nothing to do
with high officials of No. 6 like yourself," Rikiga said. "It's
nothing to be concerned about. These dogs are quiet, they
won't bite or attack you. ― Alright, here we are. The girl
is inside this room."
Just as Rikiga had said, the dogs remained curled up
on the ground, perfectly still, without growling or baring
their teeth.
"Right here, this way. After you," Rikiga ushered him
in.
There was a shabby wooden door before him. Perhaps
it was the lamplight that did it ― the aged door looked
warm and gentle to his eyes. It was like a prim old
madam. There she was, sitting in a pool of sunlight,
beautiful, with snowy hair. She had knitting needles in her
hands, and a white ball of yarn in her lap―
Fura turned aside, and cleared his throat a few times.
He had long hidden this bad habit of his to lapse into
daydreams. If any of the higher officials at the Central
Administration Bureau found out that he had this
tendency, it would mean dire consequences for him.
In No. 6, imagining, weaving stories, speaking of
dreams, and daydreaming were frowned upon and avoided
like the plague. There were no official rules or prohibiting
laws, but among common citizens, it was the object of
ridicule and contempt; in central organizations, it was
seen as inappropriate, and a valid reason for job
termination. You would be removed.
 The door opened. Its silver knob was
manually-operated, of course, and the door screeched
stubbornly as it opened inwards.
It was a low-ceilinged room, and it was dark. The only
lighting came from Rikiga's lamp and a single candle in a
stand on the table. It wasn't too cold, probably owing to
the fact that there were no windows. But the muffled
howling of the wind still echoed in the room. Various
whistlings and moanings overlapped in layers like a
symphony, tangled with each other, and reached his ears.
He wondered how this place had been built.
The only pieces of furniture in the room were the
table that held the candle, a rather shabby partition, and
a similarly pitiful bed in a corner of the room. A figure was
sitting on the edge of it with a blanket over his head,
curled up as if to shrink into himself.
Rikiga was right, she was small. The legs that
protruded from the blanket were pitifully thin. But they
were shapely. They were slender from the knee-down, and
if they had a little more flesh on them, they would
probably have been a beautiful set of legs, indeed.
"How is she?" Rikiga whispered at his ear. "A gem,
wouldn't you agree, Fura-sama?"
"Maybe. I can't tell yet."
Fura lowered himself onto the bed, and slid a hand
around the small body wrapped in the blanket. He could
feel her trembling slightly.
 "Are you afraid? ―Don't worry, there's no need to be."
He took off his coat, and drew her closer, blanket and all.
He could feel the trembling becoming more violent in his
hands. The blanket fell away from her head, and her hair,
black as night, and delicate neck exposed itself to Fura's
eyes. Since she had her face turned away in defiance, her
neck showed even more. Fura could tell even in this
darkness that the skin was smooth and supple. And it was
tan-coloured.
I see. This one may be a gem after all.
He brushed the long hair aside and let his lips travel
up her neck. There was a faint smell. It was the same
scent as what he had encountered on the stairs. It was the
smell of a dog, a beast. But instead of diminishing Fura's
desire, the smell spurred it on even more. It was a smell
he wouldn't have gotten in No. 6 even if he had wanted to,
because of its perfect hygiene. This body was thoroughly
soaked in this scent, and it excited him.
"Well, then," Rikiga said, "I guess I'll excuse myself.
Enjoy." Rikiga made for the exit with an absent smile on
his face. Fura stopped his hand, which had been in the
middle of stroking the girl's thin leg. For the first time, a
suspicion flitted in his breast.
"Wait," he commanded shortly, to the man who had his
back turned to him. Rikiga swung around lethargically.
"Something the matter?"
"Don't you find it strange?"
 "Strange? What, may I ask?"
"Why haven't you asked for my payment first?"
Rikiga's face tensed. Then, after a while, he muttered
ah, yes, payment, to himself.
"You always ask me to pay beforehand. Why haven't
you brought it up tonight?"
"Oh, yes, of course. I'd forgotten."
"Forgotten? You? About money?"
The suspicion grew inside him. This man? Forget about
money? He, who was more greedy and miserly than
anyone, forget ― he found it hard to believe.
His doubt and suspicion grew into unease. Things were
different from usual. Why? Why―
The small body leapt up out of Fura's arms. The
blanket slid to the floor.
"Cut this shit out, you bastard," he snarled. "I've had
enough of this. You must be fucking kidding me." Fura
gaped open-mouthed at the boy who had whipped his hair
around and was baring his teeth, pelting him with
profanities.
"Rikiga, who's this?"
"He is who he is, sir."
"You told me you 'd prepared a young girl."
"Young girls, young boys, it doesn't make much of a
difference. I thought perhaps you had those kind of
preferences hidden somewhere within, Fura-sama, and
you just hadn't realized."
The black-haired youth bared his teeth even more. He
was almost like a wild dog.
"You can stop making shit up, alcoholic old man," he
growled. "Why didn't you follow the plan? I'm gonna turn
all three of you into mincemeat and throw you to the
dogs. You're paying for this, bastards."
Plan? Three of you? What was he talking about?
Fura gathered his coat, and stood up. He put his arms
through the sleeves and glanced around the room. The
four corners were dark, and the darkness was eerie.
Either way, it was dangerous to remain here.
"Where to?" Rikiga stood in front of the door, barring
him with a wan smile.
"I'm going home. Get out of the way!"
"Please, please, do calm down," Rikiga said silkily. "It
isn't like you to be so uncouth, Fura-sama."
"Out of the way, or else―" Fura clenched his hand
around the small handgun in his pocket. It was an electric
gun, not very effective as a killing weapon, but enough to
defend himself. He pulled it out and aimed it between
Rikiga's eyes. If he was going to retaliate any further, he
would shoot without batting an eyelash. It may be for
self-defense, but a gun was still a gun. Any unarmed
human, if shot between the eyes, would die. But he didn't
mind. These people didn't even qualify as humans anyway.
"But the fun's just getting started, you'd be missing out
if you went home."
The voice came from behind him. At the same time,
his mouth was covered, and his wrist was gripped tightly.
The gun slipped through his fingers. He was only being
held at the mouth and hand from behind, but his whole
body was trapped. He could not move at all. A cold breath
caressed his earlobe. A whisper flowed into his ear.
"Why don't you hang out with us a little longer? We'd
give you such a good time, you'd melt on the spot." It was
a tender voice, and not clouded at all. It was sweet, clear,
and beautiful. Fura couldn't tell whether it was a man's
voice or woman's voice. Perhaps, if he obeyed this inviting
voice, he would be able to melt in ecstasy. It was a
thought that lasted a mere blink of an eye.
His feet were swept from under him, and he was
slammed to the floor. His breath caught in his throat, and
he faded out of consciousness.
***

"Nezumi!" Inukashi yelled, stomping on the blanket.

"This isn't what you promised. What the hell were you
doing?"
"Hush, stop barking." Nezumi rummaged through the
coat of the man he had just tied up, and extracted a
leather pouch out of one of its pockets. "Take a cue from
your dogs, Inukashi. Lie down and shut up."
"Stop shitting me," Inukashi snarled. "Why didn't you
come out sooner?"
"I forgot my line, so I was re-reading my script,"
Nezumi replied mildly. "Sorry about that."
"You must be kidding me. Fucking. Kidding. Me. You
half-assed fraud, you third-rate actor. You're more cunning
than a fox, and more shameless than a pig. I'm never
gonna trust you again. I hope you get bitten by fleas, and
get all the blood sucked out of you so you wither and die."
"Stop yapping already, will you? It's not even something
to get that angry about. Alright, I was two, three minutes
late coming out. That's it."
"And in those two, three minutes I got licked on the
neck and molested on my leg."
Nezumi flashed a gentle, wry smile, like one of a
mother directed toward her whining child.
"Inukashi, it's the benefit of the experience. You've
just had the precious experience of getting your neck
licked by a high official of No. 6. You can store it away as
a good memory."
Inukashi's clenched fist trembled. His black eyes
glittered in his tan face.
"Besides," he said, "why me? Why couldn't you have
done it instead?"
 "Why do I have to do it?"
"Because you'd make the perfect prostitute. You lure
men in, and make them completely weak and helplessly
infatuated. A liar, a wanton, with a nasty personality to
boot. You wouldn't even have to put on an act."
It was then that Shion finally spoke to Inukashi. Until
now, he had been watching everything unfold in a daze,
unable to keep up.
"Inukashi, that's going too far. Don't say any more."
"Same goes for you, Shion," Inukashi turned on him
next. "Why didn't you come rushing out the moment that
man sat on the bed? That was how we planned it, right?"
"Yeah, but―" He was right. In their briefing before the
event, they had agreed to wait until Fura, the high official
from the Central Administration Bureau, had been brought
in by Rikiga. When he sat on the bed, they were to burst
out from behind the partition and apprehend him. That
was the plan, and Shion had intended to act on it.
But Nezumi had stopped him. He had grabbed him by
the shoulder as if to say, "don't burst out yet." The bed was
creaking unpleasantly. The man had inched closer to
Inukashi. Shion could almost feel Inukashi's panic as if it
were his own. But Nezumi still did not move. He remained
crouched in the darkness, so silent that not even his
breathing could be heard.
"I'm going home. Get out of the way!"
 The man's hand drew something out of his pocket. And
in the same soundless way, Nezumi's body glided forward.
Shion was not able to sense Nezumi's movements at all.
Although he had been squatting right beside him, he had
not even been able to sense the air around him move as
he shifted.
"Why don't you hang out with us a little longer? We'd
give you such a good time, you'd melt on the spot."
Once he heard Nezumi's voice pierce through the
multitude of layered wind-whistles, Shion finally stepped
out from behind the partition and stood beside Inukashi.
By this time, the man was already groaning quietly on the
floor.
Inukashi clicked his teeth, with his nose wrinkled in a
menacing scowl.
"'Yeah but'? 'Yeah but' what, huh? Is taking care of dogs
all you're good for? You useless, airheaded idiot!"
Shion couldn't talk back. He was well aware of how
unskilled and useless he was, once he had been cornered.
Nothing was quite as painful as an insult that hit the mark
with its grain of truth.
Nezumi bent down and picked the handgun off the
floor. He moved it around on his palm as if to check its
weight.
"It's a self-defense gun, latest model. It's pretty small,
but if you got hit point-blank, it would be fatal. I just
thought it'd be more trouble if we risked letting him swing
this thing around."
"And that's why you decided to take your sweet time,
and wait until this pervert took out his gun."
"It reduces the risk of danger."
"Risk? Why, isn't that just splendid," Inukashi said
sarcastically. "While I was dealing with this perverted
bastard over here, you two were busily discussing the
risks. Guess great minds are just different from us, huh? I
almost want to ask you to give a special lecture to my
dogs, next time."
"Don't be sarcastic. Here, look."
Nezumi turned the leather pouch upside-down, and
shook it lightly. Five golden coins spilled out onto the
table.
"Five golds, huh. Loaded himself down quite a bit for
just one night of fun, didn't he, old man."
"Actually, not really," Rikiga opened his mouth. His
voice was heavy and hoarse, a startling difference from his
earlier cavalier tone.
"I told him I had a woman that was unusual, different
from the prostitutes he usually has. I had to charge him
considerably more than usual, or else he'd be suspicious.
He's a cautious one."
"I see."
Nezumi plucked a gold coin up.
 "Here, Inukashi. Your share."
The coin was tossed into the air, bounced off Inukashi's
fingers as he snatched at it, and fell on the floor at Shion's
feet. Shion picked it up and handed it to Inukashi. His tan
fingers were trembling.
"Inukashi?"
His lips were pursed, and he looked like he was about
to cry at any minute. Shion had never seen this expression
on him before. His shoulders and arms were shaking
slightly as well.
He must've been really scared.
Inukashi, who had several dozen dogs at his command,
lived in ruins, and with fierceness and strength survived
each day, was not able to restrain his shaking body. Shion
tried to imagine just how much fear and humiliation he
had gone through.
Shion didn't know how old Inukashi was. Inukashi
himself probably didn't know either. Most of the West
Block's residents were not certain of their age, parents,
birthplace, nor whether they had a life to live tomorrow.
But he could imagine that Inukashi was very young, much
younger than himself at sixteen years. He knew that
Inukashi engaged in fraudulent activities, theft, and even
extortion without batting an eyelash. Inukashi was seldom
bothered by being railed at or having insults hurled his
way. But he had not been able to bear playing the bait in
this farce, staged on the bed in a dimly-lit room.
 He was still that young.
Inukashi's angry bellows and profanities were but the
other side of the fear he really felt.
"I'm sorry," Shion found himself saying softly. "I've done
a horrible thing to you. I'm really, really sorry, Inukashi."
Inukashi's brown eyes blinked. Their rims were red. His
lips moved soundlessly. Shion placed a hand on his bony
shoulder. He didn't think the gesture was nearly enough to
soothe the other boy's anger or confusion. He knew he
would not be forgiven. But he had remembered one thing.
When he was still young, his mother Karan would often put
a hand on his shoulder like this. He had remembered the
comforting warmth that soaked into his body from that
gentle hand, wordlessly placed. That was all.
Inukashi didn't resist. He shifted a little, and pressed
his forehead against Shion's arm.
"Bastards... I hate you all."
"Mm-hmm," Shion murmured.
"I hated... hated it, so much..."
"I know."
"I tried so hard not to scream ― scream for you guys,
ask why you weren't coming out... I tried as―as hard as I
could, you know."
Sorry, Shion murmured again, and gripped his shoulder
firmly.
Huh?
 Agitation raced through him. He had felt in his
fingertips, a softness of the flesh he had not expected at
all. The shoulder was thin and bony, but soft. It was not
hard, taut and bulging with muscle, but soft and rounded
in a curve.
It reminded him of Safu's shoulders in the few times
they had touched his own.
Could it be ― but how ―
At almost the same time that Shion gazed at Inukashi,
Inukashi detached himself from Shion's arm, and Nezumi
tossed another gold coin. This time, Inukashi's hand
securely snatched it.
"Bonus allowance."
"How nice. Most honourable of you, Nezumi."
"You haven't done the work for free. You agreed to be
the bait in exchange for money."
"No need to tell me, I already know."
"Then don't go yammering on about it now. Two gold
coins for less than ten minutes of work. Can't find a job
like this just anywhere."
"I told you, I know!" Inukashi repeated loudly. "But you
can count me out of any future roles like this. You can
step in for me, or this airheaded young master here."
"There won't be a next time."
Nezumi shoved the rest of the three gold coins in
Rikiga's direction. "The rest is for the old man's taking."
 "How about you guys?"
"Don't need it."
"Modest in your desires, aren't you?"
"You can say that."
"Or are you saying that because money's gonna be
useless from here on anyway?"
"Probably will be."
"I see..."
Nezumi's grey eyes studied Rikiga's alcohol-flushed
face.
"What's wrong?" he said. "Why the grave face?"
Rikiga didn't answer.
"Gold coins, old man. Your favourite. Why aren't you
accepting them? Not like they're smeared with poison, at
least I don't think so."
"Probably not smeared with poison. We've got
something much more troublesome."
The brown liquid sloshed around in his glass. The sharp
smell of alcohol drifted into the air and assaulted the
nose. Rikiga took another swig of the cheap liquor, and
coughed weakly.
"It's money we've stolen from a high official of the
Holy City, tricking him and tying him up. Get our hands on
that, and it could cost us our lives."
 Nezumi laughed softly.
"You're starting to get scared now?"
"I am," Rikiga nodded promptly. He wiped his mouth
with the back of his hand. "We're already knee-deep, but
I'm starting to get scared. We've really done it, now we've
― we've really turned No. 6 against us."
"They've always been against us. That city has always
been an enemy to us. Are you saying you haven't realized,
or have you just pretended not to? Which one is it, old
man?"
Rikiga drained the last of his liquor in one swig, and
sighed deeply. The candle flame flickered, and their four
shadows, half-blended in darkness, also shifted slightly.
"Eve." Rikiga called Nezumi by his stage name. The
alcohol seemed to be working on him, for his speech was
beginning to slur.
"―Aren't you afraid to die?"
"Die? Well, that question just came out of nowhere,
didn't it."
"You're turning the whole Holy City against you. You
don't possibly think you can brazenly keep living? You're
not that naive."
"Old man." Nezumi's hand stroked the tabletop. The
gold coins disappeared like magic. "Sorry, but I have no
intention of bracing myself for death. The ones who live
are the ones who win. They're the ones that are going to
perish. We're gonna be the ones that survive. Are we not?"
"Are you serious about that?"
"Of course."
"You're mad. You've gone mad, and you're living in your
delusions, Eve. There's no chance of us winning. Not even
a fraction of possibility."
"You may be right."
"It's completely unfounded. Everything you're saying
and trying to do, completely unfounded. Babblings of a
madman. It's one percent. 0.01. You're willing to bet on
this tiny fraction?"
"It's a tiny fraction, but it's not zero. Which means you
don't know until you try."
"Eve!"
"Your hand."
"Huh?"
"Prithee lend me your hand, your Majesty." Nezumi
forcibly grabbed Rikiga's wrist and turned his palm
upwards. He placed his own hand on top. Three gold coins
appeared.
"Your share, old man. Don't forget to claim it."
The empty liquor bottle slid out of Rikiga's hand, and
smashed messily on the floor. Drops of liquor flew in all
directions, and stained the floor.
 "Be more like Inukashi, and accept it humbly. We're in
motion now. We can't turn back. None of us."
"None of us, huh..." Rikiga looked down at the gold
coins in his hand, and his mouth twisted. "Accomplices to
the very end, you might say."
"Right. Important partners. We each have our own
role, and the curtain's long risen. You better not be
thinking of ducking out now, old man, because it's way too
late for that."
"What if I said I surrender my role? Would you kill me?"
"If you wish."
"Knowing you, you'd probably execute the kill
beautifully," Rikiga said bitterly. "What, would you slit my
throat with a knife? Give me a stab through the heart?"
"Don't give me too much credit. It's harder to wield a
knife than an amateur might think, you know." Nezumi
turned to Rikiga and smiled. Rikiga drew his chin back,
and grew stone-faced.
"My hand might slip and miss the fatal spot. It happens
every now and then. Pretty gruesome for the victim, huh?
He has to writhe around and suffer because he can't die
quickly. Gruesome, indeed. I'd hate to see one of my
precious friends die that way."
Rikiga made a low strangled noise in his throat, and
dropped the gold coins into his pocket. Then, he spat out
one word.
 "Devil."
Inukashi sniffed dismissively from his spot beside
Shion.
"We've always known what a devil he is. No use
throwing a fit about it now."
No.
Shion balled his hand into a fist.
Nezumi was no devil. He knew this more certainly than
anyone else. Again and again, his life had been saved, and
been rescued from pressing danger. He had clung to the
hand that was extended to him, and it had pulled him up.
His life was not the only thing that had been saved ― his
soul, in the form that it was meant to be ― had also been
saved. He believed so.
Nezumi had pulled Shion up to the heights, and taught
him how to gaze at the world from there. In contrast to a
world circled by fortress walls, isolated and complacent,
he had shown him a world which expanded to limitless
horizons, where many forms of human life jostled in one
place, where lifestyles, values, gods, and justice were
never the same for everyone. If he had not met Nezumi,
he would have continued living without knowing a thing
about it, and gone on to grow old. He would have lived
peacefully in the Holy City of No. 6, privileged with
artificial vivacity and abundance , never casting a single
thought to the world outside the wall.
Look.
 Nezumi had told him. Crawl out of your artificial
world, and come over here. He had told him to see with
his own eyes. To think for himself. Think. Think with your
own head what's right, what's meaningful, what you want,
what you believe ― not the values, morals, and justice
that have been fed to you, imposed upon you.
He had been told countless times. At times
passionately, at times coldly, with his voice, his gaze, and
his actions, Nezumi had told him again and again.
Since meeting Nezumi, he had thought about all these
things. His feelings, his desires, his thoughts, his
sensations, his hopes, his beliefs, what he desired to
believe. There were many things he could still not grasp,
but to wrestle with his thoughts, and to keep pondering,
had revived Shion's soul and pumped living blood back into
it.
That was what living meant.
To make one's soul one's own. Not to hand it over to
anyone else. Not to be dominated. Not to fall into
submission.
This was what it was to live.
Nezumi had taught him this. He had injected new
blood into his soul.
And―
And Shion himself was the one who had gotten
everyone involved. It wasn't Nezumi. Shion had gotten the
other three involved, solely for the purpose of rescuing
Safu, who had been apprehended by the Security Bureau
and imprisoned in the Correctional Facility. He had
dragged them into a dangerous battle, where the chances
of winning were less than one in a hundred, as Rikiga had
said.
"What's up, Shion? You look kinda scary ― not like
yourself," Inukashi cocked his head in a puzzled way. Shion
shook his head.
"That's not it."
"Huh?"
"That's not it, Inukashi. Rikiga-san, too. All this, it's all
my―"
His eyes met with Nezumi's. Or, rather, it was more
like his eyes had been pulled at and forced to meet the
other's strong gaze. Nezumi's lustrous, dark grey eyes
always glittered with energy, and were beautiful. But
despite that, they never showed any hint of emotion. They
had not changed at all from when Shion had first met him.
They were still the same as the pair of eyes he had peered
into once, pushed up against the wall with a set of cold
fingers at his throat. Nezumi slowly dropped his gaze, and
murmured as if in song.
"I am the spirit that denies. Yes, I am all things which
you call Sin, Destruction, or Evil." [1]
"What's that?" Inukashi twitched his nose. "Shion, what
the hell is this deranged actor saying?"
"Mephistopheles."
 "Huh? What's that? Is it edible?"
"He appears in the book Faust. He's ― a demon."
"So a devil is just reciting a devil's lines. Perfectly
fitting."
"No, like I said, Nezumi isn't―"
The man suddenly groaned. His bound body gave a
twitch.
"Looks like our guest has awakened from his slumber."
Nezumi extracted his leather gloves, and flapped them
nonchalantly. A faint smile played on his lips.
"Let us begin Act One Scene Two, then, shall we?"
Rikiga looked up at the ceiling, and exhaled. Inukashi
gave an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. He glanced at
Shion.
"Shion," he said.
"Hm?"
"He is the devil."
"Huh?"
"He's the devil, and you're the one who doesn't know
the real deal. At least, that's what I think."

-- END OF CHAPTER 1 --

CHAPTER 2
Act One Scene Two
 No, you've got it all wrong.
We flee
because we want to live.
- Tezuka Osamu, Grand Dolls

The sighs of the wind grew louder. High-pitched and

somewhat plaintive, it whistled through the ruins. The
man awoke to hear the sound of the wind around him. He
hadn't lost much of his composure. Bound and sitting on
the floor, he let his gaze roam around the room.
"What's going on?" He questioned hoarsely. No one
answered. "What's going on, Rikiga? You understand what
you're doing, don't you?"
"Unfortunately, I do." Rikiga gave a sigh, one of several
he had already heaved that day. "I understand it so well, it
makes me sick to the stomach. I never asked for this,
anyway."
"Let me go." The man twisted in his bonds. But he
realized that the more he struggled, the more the ropes
dug into his body, and he soon quieted down. He let his
gaze wander about again, and cleared his throat. He
remained unruffled.
"What are you after?" he said calmly. "Money? Surely
you don't think you'll be let off easily for doing something
like this?"
 "Our point is not to be let off at all." Nezumi knelt
down in front of the man. The man widened his eyes in
surprise, and murmured appreciatively.
"You're a beauty." A smile spread across the man's face.
"Rikiga, this one's a much finer gem."
"If it pleases you to have me," Nezumi said, hooking a
leather-gloved finger on the man's chin, "then you can
have me to your heart's content. But it'll be expensive.
Five gold coins isn't nearly gonna cut it."
"Hmph," the man sneered. "So it is money you're after.
How much do you want?"
"I don't want money."
The contemptuous smile vanished from the man's face.
He tried to draw his chin back, but Nezumi's fingers held
fast and didn't let him.
"If it's not money―then what?"
"Information."
"What?"
"Information," Nezumi repeated. "I'm going to have you
spit out every piece of information you have, right here."
"What preposterous―"
"And after that, I'll give you plenty of my company. I
think it's a good deal, don't you?"
"Don't make me laugh," the man retorted. "Mere West
Block residents, having the audacity to ask for
information? And what will filth like you do with
information about the Holy City, hm? What use would it be
to you? You ought to go back to crawling around in the dirt
where you belong."
There was a slap. Nezumi's right hand had struck a
fierce blow across the man's cheek. The man fell to the
floor on his side. Nezumi yanked him upright by his hair,
and sharply slapped the other cheek. Once more. Twice.
The man never so much as raised a groan, and only
crumpled to the floor each time.
Shion stood frozen and staring with his breath caught
in his throat. Lit in the glow of the candle, Nezumi's
profile had no expression. Blank-faced, as if wearing a
mask, he continued to abuse the man.
"Nezumi―" His body shook.
Please. No more. Stop―
As Shion took a step forward, a tan arm barred him.
"Inukashi."
"Shut up and watch, little boy," Inukashi hissed quietly,
licking his lips with the tip of his tongue. "The fun's just
getting started. Don't get in the way."
"But this―this is too much."
"Shion, remember what you said before?"
"Huh? What?"
"You said to me once that Nezumi was kind. I think it
was in this room, actually. Have you forgotten?"
 "I remember."
A quiet chuckle escaped Inukashi's lips.
"It's just getting started, Shion. Make sure you get a
good look at exactly how kind your dearest Little Mouse
is."
There was a cut on the side of the man's mouth. It
looked like he had cut the inside of it too; a mix of saliva
and blood oozed from his lips.
"Stop it―please―" the man moaned. Nezumi's hand
stopped.
"Feel like speaking truthfully now?"
"I... don't know... anything..."
"A high official of the Central Administration Bureau
like yourself, know nothing, sir? That doesn't even make a
good joke."
"All information is managed and processed by
computers... there isn't... much that I know..."
Shion thought that he had a point. Even if he was a
high official, it didn't mean he would have access to all
internal information about No. 6. The more classified the
information, the more barriers there would be, so that
only a select handful of people would know its entirety.
Only a select handful―
Who were they? he wondered. It was a question he
had never considered up until now. In No. 6's City Hall,
inside the oval-shaped dome of the Moondrop, a certain
man reigned.
The mayor?
He was a figure who was at the centre of the citizens'
overwhelming support and admiration for building up the
prosperity of No. 6. Apart from the first one, all mayoral
elections had been without any other competitors.
Could it be him?
The image of the mayor's face on television rose in his
mind. It was wearing a gentle smile. He had seen it in no
other expression. He had not been able to. The more steps
the city took toward prosperity, the less he began to see
the mayor's unmediated face in public. And at the same
time, enormous support and political power were
beginning to concentrate around this one man. The mayor,
as he spoke to the citizens through the media, was always
a mild-mannered gentleman, full of intellect and
compassion.
"I don't like him."
Shion's mother Karan had said so once, and turned off
the television soon afterwards. Shion was not yet ten, but
he nevertheless remembered being surprised at the harsh
tone of his mother's voice, and the fact that she had spat
out those words about the mayor, whom everyone else
praised.
"Why don't you like him?"
"I don't like his ears. They're so vulgar."
 "His ears?"
"They twitch. Like some kind of beast that's after his
prey."
Was the mayor twitching his ears as he was being
broadcast? Shion had tilted his head, perplexed. Then
Karan's face had grown serious, and she had said, that's a
secret. By that time, there had been a generally
discouraging air throughout the city towards people who
criticized the mayor, and it was best to keep criticisms to
yourself. It had been nearly ten years since then, and the
mayor was still sitting at his post of highest power in No.
6, while Shion was here, outside the wall.
"Answer my question." Nezumi's low voice reached his
ears as if crawling stealthily across the ground. "This new
facility that's been built inside the Correctional
Facility―what is it? What's it for?"
The man shook his head.
"I don't know."
"Then which Bureau is it under?"
"I don't know."
"A few days ago, a young woman―an elite
candidate―was taken into custody by the Security Bureau.
She's been imprisoned in the Correctional Facility, but
that's as far as we know. Does her case have something to
do with that new facility?"
"I don't... know..."
 "I've heard that lately there have been patients
sprouting up inside the city with an unidentifiable illness.
Is that true? What are the symptoms? How many patients
are there?"
There was no answer. Nezumi straightened up, and
shrugged slightly.
"You don't have much of a vocabulary for a high
official. Didn't you have to be a little smoother than that
to pick up girls?"
"Untie me."
The inside of the man's mouth was probably swelling,
for his voice came out strangely muffled. "Untie me, and
let me go. If you do, I'll forget about this incident. I'll do
you a favour and pretend it never happened."
"Why, thank you. A judgment of clemency. I'm so
grateful―Inukashi," he said abruptly.
"Uh?" Inukashi answered lazily.
"Keep him still."
"A'ight." Inukashi quickly stepped in behind the man,
and held his shoulders and arms down. Nezumi unsheathed
his knife.
"What are you doing?" the man cried frantically. His
forehead was moist with sweat.
"Quiet down. I'm just granting your wish."
The white blade flashed in the hazy light. The knife,
clean of any ornament or decoration, was eerily beautiful.
The ropes fell away. Nezumi, with an almost languid air,
took the man's hand in his own. He held it by the wrist,
and peered into the man's face. The man stayed frozen
and unmoving, although he had long been freed. Perhaps
he was not able to move. The pair of grey eyes had
arrested and trapped him in his spot.
Leather-gloved fingertips stroked the man's palm.
"I figured a high official of No. 6 like you would only
need a little pain before he started bawling and spilling
the beans. Looks like I underestimated you by a lot."
Nezumi traced the man's hand, finger by finger, and
gave a small sigh. It was almost almost like a loving
caress.
"You've got guts. It's quite something. Let me give you
a reward."
A shard of glass was placed on the man's hand. It was a
piece from the shattered liquor bottle.
"And one more."
The pointed end of the shard shone dully.
"What―what are you doing―?" The man shook his head,
his voice and body quaking uncontrollably. "Stop―stop it,
please―"
"Why? The reward's all ready for you. Take it."
Nezumi's hands cupped around the man's, and closed it
firmly.
 The wind grew still. For a brief moment, a
bloodcurdling scream rang out in the silent room. Rikiga's
face contorted as he averted his gaze. Inukashi also closed
his eyes, and bit his lip while he held the man down.
"Answer me!" Nezumi commanded, still clenching the
man's hand closed. "Answer everything I've asked you, or
else I'll make sure you can never use any of your five
fingers again."
"Nezumi!" No sooner had Shion yelled his name than he
found himself springing forward. He rammed himself into
Nezumi. Bloodstained shards of glass fell out of the man's
hand onto the floor.
"Stop―stop, please." Nezumi showed neither surprise
nor anger, and remained expressionless as if he had
expected Shion to act this way all along. The only thing he
did was to click his tongue lightly in irritation.
"Don't get in my way."
"You can't. You can't do this. This... this is torture."
"What other way do I have? If I bow my head and say
will you please, is this guy gonna tell me everything?"
"Well―but―but this isn't right. I don't want you to do
something like this."
"Shion, get over yourself and your indulgent thoughts,
or else we're never gonna get anywhere. We aren't playing
house. This is a war."
 Shion knew. He knew very well. He was aware of the
hardships that awaited him in the future. But―
"But―it's not right. Torture isn't right. Don't do it."
"Why not?"
"He's a human. We can't make him suffer."
Nezumi snorted. He turned aside, and laughed silently
with his mouth closed. The man was sobbing pitifully, his
hand bloody and shaking. Poor guy, Inukashi muttered
under his breath. Nezumi nudged the man's thigh with the
tip of his boot, and looked Shion straight in the eye.
"You heard what he said. Us West Block people are
filth to guys like him. Like bugs that scuttle across the
ground. He's probably never even thought of us as humans,
with blood running through our veins, and emotions like
everyone else. Whether we bleed, or starve to death―or
writhe in pain, it has nothing to do with him. That's what
he thinks. So why do we have to treat him like a human? If
we're insects to them, then these guys aren't even―"
"I don't want to see it!" Shion found himself yelling,
more loudly than his last outburst. He yelled to block out
Nezumi's voice.
"Huh?"
"I don't want to see it. I don't want to see you harm
someone like this." He felt nauseous. At himself. A thick,
black self-hatred coiled within his body. Don't want to see?
Then drop your gaze. You're always like this. You've
always averted your eyes from everything you don't want
to see, and pretended you didn't notice. For whose sake is
Nezumi exercising this brutality? Isn't it all for you? Didn't
you force him to do this? Haven't you burdened Nezumi
with a sin that should have been your own―and now
you're crying saintly things? They're just pretty words,
Shion. Everything you say and do, just a pretty facade.
You never dirty your own hands, never bear a wound on
your soul, never get hurt, and yet, you mustn't hurt
others, you say, brandishing justice.
This self-righteousness, this arrogance, this falseness,
superficiality, your unsightly and hideous nature.
It's all you.
None other than his own voice was speaking to him.
Shion felt nauseous. The hatred slithered and twisted
inside him.
But he didn't want to see it. Despite everything, he
didn't want to see it. He could be certain of that much.
"I don't―want to see you like that." Nezumi, I don't
want to see you cold and ruthless. Because it's a lie.
Everything you've taught me has always led to rebirth and
creation. You told me to live, and you told me to think.
You taught me to love another, to understand another, to
seek a connection, to yearn―and yes, everything you've
taught me is the bare opposite of ruthlessness. I don't
want to see you as someone you're not.
"Eve." Rikiga swayed and stepped forward. "Shion's
right. Leave it at that. Fura's grown up as an elite since he
was a kid. He probably has no resistance at all against
pain. Put him through any more, and who knows, you
might finish him off with a cardiac arrest."
Nezumi shrugged. Expressionless eyes flitted between
the wailing man and Shion. Without another word, he
withdrew a step. Then, he slowly pulled off his
bloodstained gloves.
I'll step down and leave the spot free for you. Do as
you would, until you're satisfied.
Shion knelt down on the blood-spattered floor. He
spoke to the man.
"Fura-san. I want you to listen to me. The girl that was
apprehended by the Security Bureau is my very precious
friend. I'm willing to do anything it takes to save her. And
to do that, I need information from you."
"It hurts... it hurts... so much blood..."
"If you speak to us, then I'll treat your wound."
"Please, stop the blood," Fura implored. "Stop the
pain. Hurry!" The man offered his palm. He thrust it out,
with tears streaming down his face. There were bleeding
cuts in various places, but the wounds themselves were
not that deep. As long as they didn't get infected, they
were surely of no threat to his life.
"A couple licks from a dog, and it'd be gone in a night,"
Inukashi cackled, showing his teeth.
"Rikiga-san, can you bring me some clean water and
alcohol?" said Shion.
 "Don't have much to disinfect with except my booze."
"That's fine."
"And the water―I can just draw it from the stream?"
"Yes."
"Alright, I'll bring some." Rikiga sighed in relief, and
left the room. His footsteps were light, as if he couldn't
wait to get out of the place. Shion renewed his
composure, and turned back to the man's exhausted face.
"I'll treat you, so talk to me. I don't have time. I want
you to answer me truthfully."
"Oh―" the man whimpered. "Fine―hurry, just make the
pain stop―please, quick―"
"What's the facility that's been newly built inside the
Correctional Facility?"
"I―I really don't know."
"So even someone of your rank doesn't know―does that
mean it's top-secret information for the city? As classified
as it gets?"
"Yeah―there's a project team that's directly beneath
the mayor, and everything happens between them... we
have no involvement in it... we aren't allowed."
"You aren't allowed to be involved. But you know that
some project or other exists, am I right?"
 "The city's―in-invested a lot of money into it," the man
stammered. "It was declared in the budget on the
pamphlet we got at the assembly... and..."
"Was it a problem at the assembly?" Shion asked. If it
was, then naturally, a question would be raised from the
assembly, and the mayor would have no choice but to give
an answer. For what reason was this enormous budget set
aside? What was this project for? If there had been a diet
member who had raised the issue―
"Of course not," the man's mouth twisted in derision.
"There's no way anyone could object or question a project
proposed by the mayor himself. The budget was simply
printed in the document―until seeing this, we hadn't
known about it... and by that time, it was already―"
"The facility had already been built in the Correctional
Facility."
"Yes."
"Anything about the project team members?"
"I don't know... I don't know names... even how many
there are. No one... should know."
Inukashi whistled.
"That's amazing. No one knows anything about it,
there's no explanation, and yet just because it's the
mayor's project, he gets free reign with the funds. And no
one complains? Yeesh, I'm so jealous, I could topple over
from envy. Wish I could get a piece of that." True to his
word, Inukashi promptly hugged his knees and flopped
backwards on the bed.
Rikiga entered, carrying a pail of water. The stream
that ran by the ruins apparently traced back to a natural
spring in the wood, and it was constantly brimming with
clear, cold water. Come spring, clusters of little blush-pink
flowers would line the edges of the river―a girl called
Kalan, who went by the same name as his mother, had told
Shion.
The clear water lapped inside the worn pail.
"We're going to clean the wound. Put your hand in the
water―Inukashi, do we have clean cloth?"
"Clean? Not a word I have a close relationship with.
This is the West Block, you know. The cleanest thing here
is probably a dog's tongue."
Rikiga silently handed him a roll of gauze. It was a
little old and yellowed, but nevertheless unused. It was a
luxury item in the West Block.
"I figured something like this would happen," Rikiga
said. "So I had some ready. I don't have anything fancy like
antiseptic, though. Use this, if it'll do."
A small liquor bottle was tossed into Shion's lap. There
was a colourless liquid inside.
"Gin, from my precious stash."
 "Thank you." Shion dipped the man's hand in water.
Streams of blood ribboned and swayed in the water like
crimson seaweed.
"This will sting a bit." Shion pressed a piece of gauze
soaked in gin against the wound. The man grunted in pain,
but didn't struggle. Shion wrapped the gauze around his
hand, and knotted it tightly.
"You haven't cut any nerves or tendons. If you re-dress
the wound properly later, it shouldn't pose a huge
problem."
"It still... hurts..." the man protested feebly.
"We don't have painkillers here. You'll have to bear
with it."
The man's gaze beheld Shion steadily for the first
time.
"―How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"How did your hair turn like that?"
"Oh, this―" Shion brought a hand to his hair, now
almost entirely drained of its colour. He had been so busy
trying to live each day in the West Block, and these past
days he had thought of nothing except Safu. It had been a
long time since he had bothered to think about his hair
colour. He had forgotten about it. His hair still held its
shine, and Nezumi had said that some would perhaps find
it beautiful. But Shion's white hair was still a mismatch for
his young age of sixteen, and seemed to appear odd to
some people.
"There's a slew of reasons behind this. I didn't bleach it
on purpose," Shion explained.
"You're not a resident of this place, are you?"
"No."
"Where did you come from?"
"From within the wall."
"From within the city? Impossible!"
"I was living in No. 6 until recently."
"What's a city resident doing here?"
"That―well, there are a lot of reasons for that, too."
Shion had moved from inside the wall to outside of it.
In numbers, it was not a considerable distance. But if he
were to explain why he had crossed the border between
two distinctly separate worlds, to be where he was
now―he felt like no amount of words would be enough.
"What did you used to do inside?"
"I did cleaning duties at a park. I was a student as
well―that was my main occupation."
"Hey, hey," Inukashi butted in. "That's enough. What're
you doing answering his questions? Isn't it supposed to be
the other way around?"
"Oh yeah."
 "How can you be so slow?" Inukashi said exasperatedly.
"Buck up a little, I'm begging ya. You're making me start to
feel bad for you, man."
"Uh―right, okay. Sorry."
"Apologizing to me isn't gonna help. Geez, talk about
unfit for interrogation. It's like trying to teach a mole how
to swim. My dogs would probably do a better job."
Inukashi raked a hand through his black hair, scratched
impatiently, and gave an exaggerated sigh. Shion turned
red. Inukashi was right―he'd never even known how to
interrogate someone, and he couldn't see himself doing it
well. Still kneeling, he looked up at Nezumi.
In a dim patch of darkness out of light's reach, Nezumi
was leaning back against the wall with his arms folded. His
expression was indiscernible.
Shion knew there was simply no time to be
complaining that he would rather not, or that he couldn't
do it. He bit his lip.
"Fura-san, so basically you're saying that you don't
know anything about the Correctional Facility."
"Yes."
"Then what do you think it is?"
"Huh?"
"Why do you personally think those facilities are
there?"
"Why do I personally―"
 "Yes. I want to know from your personal
perspective―what sort of thing would the mayor build that
he would keep in secret, and not let anyone else interfere
with?"
"Th-There's no way I would know. I don't have any
information―I don't have any files or resources."
"Then just make a prediction. Imagine what it would
be, even."
Imagine. The man enunciated the word slowly. He let
it roll off his tongue cautiously, like tasting a fruit that he
had never seen before.
"Imagine..."
The stench of alcohol and blood mingled together in
the air. The wind renewed its forceful gusts, and whistled
high-pitched and forlorn.
The man's bloodless lips moved.
"I reckon―the Health and Hygiene Bureau might have
something to do with it."
"Health and Hygiene Bureau? Not the Security Bureau?"
The Bureau of Health and Hygiene singly managed the
city's hygiene and the health of its citizens. It presided
over all hospitals and health clinics in the city. This Bureau
administered the Children's Examinations to select elites
at an early stage, and also ran the yearly physical
assessments that were mandatory for every citizen. It was
an important bureau, but from Shion's knowledge, it didn't
have a close connection with the core of the city as much
as the Security and Central Administration Bureau did.
Since his former workplace at the Park Administration
Office had been a distant branch of the Health and
Hygiene Bureau, he had a little knowledge about the
Bureau's activities from the information that trickled in.
The Correctional Facility and the Health and Hygiene
Bureau―two organizations that seemed to be most
disconnected with each other in fact turned out to be
closely entangled.
"Fura-san, why do you think so?"
"It's just what I imagine. You told me I could."
"Yes, I did."
"Just my imagination. But..."
"But?"
"At the Municipal Hospital―" The man broke off, and
swallowed hard. He wasn't keeping Shion hanging on
purpose―he was hesitating. He was hesitating whether he
could talk about something like this.
Shion waited. He waited for the man to speak to him,
to put into words what was in his heart. He could do
nothing but wait. So he waited. That was his way.
The man lifted his gauze-wrapped hand and wiped his
mouth with the back of it. His lips had swollen and turned
a reddish-purple colour.
 "A few months ago, there was a transfer of posts at
the Municipal Hospital. Doctors―all highest-ranking in
work ethic and skill―a few of them, along with some
nurses, were transferred out. I don't know where they
were transferred to."
"You don't know?"
"It's not recorded anywhere. All data of the citizens
are collected at the Central Administration Bureau. Every
action taken in the day is recorded without fail to the
database. Anything as big as a workplace transfer, even
more so for doctors and nurses that work for the Municipal
Hospital, would be recorded strictly and with detail."
"But it was missing."
"Right. It wasn't there. I thought it was strange. I
thought―but that was all I did."
"Did you look into it?"
"I didn't even think about it. Even if I wanted to, it
would be impossible. And if I slipped and somehow ended
up with confidential information, I would be in huge
trouble."
I can't believe you've asked me such a stupid question,
the man seemed to say, as he turned his face aside.
The Health and Hygiene Bureau; talented and skilled
doctors and nurses; the Correctional Facility―an idea
flared in Shion's mind.
 "I've heard that there have been strange incidents
inside No. 6. Do you think it has anything to do with the
Correctional Facility?"
"What?"
"There have been people struck ill. Am I right?"
"You've done your research," the man observed.
"Where did you get that information?"
Rikiga swayed, and exhaled a stench of liquor.
"You're not my only customer who comes from No. 6,"
he said, "though none of them are the kind of big-shot you
are. The lackeys give me their own kind of information.
Like when they're giving bedtime stories to the girls
they've slept with―just spills out."
"You call that information? They're probably just
rumours."
"Rumours usually happen to be closer to the truth than
what public organizations shove in your face. But speaking
of which―" Rikiga knitted his brow, and narrowed his eyes.
"These days the authorities seem to be getting stricter
on their regulations. It's almost over the top. Apart from
big-shots in your rank, it's becoming harder and harder for
the lower ranks to sneak their way out here. I've even
heard that soon, it's just going to be banned outright.
Poof, there goes half of my business."
"And look what you've done to your best customer,"
Inukashi chimed in. "Forget half of your business, you're
going completely bankrupt, old man," he cackled. Rikiga
glared at him, and tsked his tongue irritably.
"Either way, it's all over. For me, and for you."
Inukashi retracted his laugh and fell silent.
"If someone fell ill, they'd naturally be taken to the
Municipal Hospital, right?" Shion continued. "But what
happens to them afterwards?"
"I don't know."
"It's not a contagious illness, is it?"
"There's been no public announcement from the city.
Besides, there would be no way a contagious illness could
spread in No. 6."
"True."
Shion lowered his eyes, and looked at his own hands.
They were scarred, the skin was rough, and on the whole,
they had become rather bony. They had lost all their
softness and smoothness that they had when he was inside
the city, but he thought his hands now showed more
strength. They were hands that were alive and trying to
get a firm grasp on things. On these hands, stains would
spread, fingers would bend out of shape, and they would
age at the blink of an eye. He could still clearly visualize
how Yamase had died.
"The patients wouldn't have survived―I'm thinking it
would have been an unnatural death. They would age
rapidly until they finally died―maybe that's how―"
 The man drew his chin back, and narrowed his eyes
suspiciously.
"What are you talking about?"
Shion stared at the man, and then slid his gaze to
Nezumi. The darkness was spreading, growing thicker, and
trying to shroud the boy who stood as still as a statue.
This man did not know. He really didn't know a thing,
about the parasite wasps, or the queer incidents, or the
grisly deaths. Even someone like him, in the post of a high
official, did not know a single thing.
"Samples," the man suddenly muttered.
"Samples?"
"Sample Collection Status―I remember there being a
section like that in the Health and Hygiene Bureau's data."
***

"Samples of what?"
"I don't know. I just know it said something about their
collection status―you needed a special password to access
it. The only thing I know is that this and the mayor's
project..."
"Are connected."
"I imagine they are."
Sample. What a cold, desolate word. Shion felt a chill.
 Safu. He cast his thoughts to her, and his chill got
worse.
"Shion," Nezumi called. The darkness shifted. "That's
about it. We can't get anything else out of this guy." His
words also had a cold, desolate ring. The man perceived
their coldness and stiffened.
"Are you going to―k-kill me?"
"Of course." Nezumi's boot stepped over the blood
splatters, now beginning to congeal.
"I-I've told you everything I know. I talked. This isn't
what we promised."
"We didn't promise anything. Promises or agreements
don't exist between people like you and I."
"Stop, please―I don't want to die!"
"Nezumi, that's enough." Shion stood between him and
the man. "There's no need to scare him like that. You've
done enough. We have to take him back and drop him off
somewhere near the gates. Rikiga-san―"
"Yeah, I know. I gotcha. I'll bring the car around."
"He's our enemy." The unsheathed knife spun around in
Nezumi's hand. "Are we just gonna let him slip through our
hands like that?"
"It's not necessary at this point. We don't need to kill
him."
Heh. Lending the upper-half of his body to the
darkness, Nezumi gave a quiet laugh.
 "And when would you say it is necessary? Do you think
this guy will go back to No. 6 and keep quiet about us?"
"Yeah."
Shion lifted his chin, and looked straight through the
darkness. He aligned his gaze with the pair of grey eyes at
the other end. Have you noticed, Nezumi? No matter how
dark or blindingly bright it is, I'm never led astray―my
eyes always find yours.
"He won't tell anyone. If he did, he would be
threatening his own life. Just think―a high official of the
Central Administration Bureau, entering a prohibited area
like the West Block for no apparent objective, with no
official permission. What would happen if people found
out? He's more than aware of the risks. There's no way he
would give us away. You should know this already."
"How the hell should I know?" Nezumi stepped
soundlessly forward. "There's no guarantee that this guy
won't slip and mention a... certain group in the West Block
sniffing around about the Correctional Facility."
"He won't talk."
"Shion." Nezumi's voice lowered slightly. "I'm gonna ask
you again. Do you plan on letting him go home alive?"
"Yeah."
An arm stretched towards him. In less than a blink of
an eye, Shion was trapped in Nezumi's embrace. Nezumi's
arms were thin, and certainly didn't seem to be that
strong at a glance―but it only took a single arm for him to
arrest Shion's movements completely. Shion felt an icy
sensation at his neck―the blade of a knife.
"I've had enough of your half-assed justice and fake
goodwill," Nezumi said quietly. "It makes me sick. I've been
meaning to tell you this, Shion―you won't survive unless
you tear off that self-righteous, artificial mask. I could
care less if you went off to die by yourself, but don't get
the rest of us involved. We don't have time to be fooling
around trying to decide if it's 'necessary' to do something
or not. Enemies are enemies. We kill or get killed. That's
all there is to it."
The blade slid along his neck. Shion felt a small, sharp
pain. His eyes were transfixed to Nezumi. For just a brief
moment, a sweet thrill stirred in the core of his body. To
take one in his arms, and slit his throat―
An embrace of death.
This was, indeed, the feat of a devil.
Nezumi withdrew. When Shion brought a hand to his
neck, and felt it pulsing with heat. His palm was smeared
with blood. With his gaze still on Nezumi, Shion clenched
his fingers.
"Rikiga-san, the car."
"Huh?"
"If you could take him home by car, please."
"Oh―right, yeah."
Shion turned to the man, and gave him a smile.
 "I'm sorry we've done such horrible things to you. But it
was the only way we had."
"Shion..." The man blinked several times as he studied
Shion's face. "I remember there was a first-degree criminal
by that name. He was a fallen elite who'd gone insane. He
poisoned his co-worker, then fled to the West Block―is
that you?"
"Been blown out of proportion pretty badly, hasn't it?"
Shion couldn't help but give a wry smile. Karan's face rose
into his mind. He thought of the hardships she must be
facing, living in a society where rumours of her son
constantly flooded her ears―her son, the murderer. His
heart ached. But no matter how much it did, there was
nothing he could do. He could do nothing other than say,
Mom, I'm sorry. But Nezumi had delivered his plea for
forgiveness to his mother. He had passed on his one-line
note. Those scribbled words had pulled Karan a step out of
the depths of her despair. It was all thanks to Nezumi. For
now, he knew that Karan was not exposed to any danger.
So he would suppress the pain in his heart, and forget
about his mother. He would not think of her. He would
think only of Safu.
Instead of scattering his heart hither and thither, he
would carefully select where to put it, and discard all
other thoughts. He needed the power to do it, or else he
would not survive. Shion had acquired this power long
before he realized he had.
The man slowly shook his head.
 "I don't believe it." He jerked his chin at Shion. "Your
face is totally different from the first-degree criminal I
saw on the screen. It's like you two are different people."
"Well, my hair colour's changed. And I've lost a bit of
weight, I think."
"No, that's not what I mean―ah, well, I guess you can
say the shape of your face, your facial features are the
same... but it's different. Your demeanour is totally
different. He had really deranged eyes. He looked
aggressive―even my co-worker was saying he looked like
he would kill someone. And he was right. His eyes weren't
so―gentle like yours. You two are totally different. Total
strangers."
"It's more than easy to modify someone's face," Rikiga
said, through a mouthful of the remainder of his gin. "And
not just his face. If the authorities wish it, they can
conjure or twist around any information to their
advantage. Hardly something you should be surprised
about, Fura-san. Isn't it part of your job to manipulate
information at the authorities' beck and call?"
"Rather rude of you, Rikiga."
"Because it's the truth." Rikiga shook the last droplet
onto his tongue, and sighed deeply. "And that just makes it
all the more difficult to bear. Is there such a thing as real
truth in No. 6?"
"I've never taken part in such lowly activities like
manipulating information. I've only handled its
management and release."
 "And have you ever doubted where the information
was coming from?"
"What?"
"All you've been doing is receiving information from
the city, and passing it along to the media. You've never
doubted the truth of that information, have you?"
"Of course not. How could I ever doubt―"
Rikiga's thick hand rested on Shion's shoulder.
"This kid that's here in front of you, and the criminal
with deranged eyes. That gap is the gap between false
information and the truth."
The man opened his trembling lips to say something,
and made a guttural noise in his throat. Though the room
had no heat, beads of sweat were forming on his
forehead. After a silence that lasted for almost a minute,
the man's lips finally stopped trembling as he called out
Shion's name.
"Shion."
"Yes."
"You said you wanted information about the
Correctional Facility."
"Yes."
"And you said it was to help a friend."
"Yes. The Security Bureau suddenly put her under
arrest, and sent her to the Correctional Facility."
 "Her name?"
"Safu. She was supposed to be on exchange abroad, as
an elite candidate."
"Do you know her citizenship number?"
"Citizenship number..."
They had eaten together the day before Safu was to
fly out on her exchange. On their way to the station, they
had been stopped by a law enforcement officer from the
Security Bureau, and asked to display their ID cards. The
number that Safu had recited was it. He closed his eyes,
and shuffled through his memory. Although he was no
computer, he had considerable ability to memorize and
accumulate information, to sort and apply it. This skill had
been developed and polished from a young age. For him,
it was not difficult to instantly recall a series of letters
and numbers, even if it had only been uttered once.
"It's SSC-000124GJ."
"SSC-000124GJ," the man repeated twice. "I don't know
any incident of a citizen by that number being
apprehended by the Security Bureau."
"The incident has happened, in secret. You just don't
know about it."
"And you all are planning to save her?"
"Yes."
 "You're going to help a criminal break out of the
Correctional Facility," the man said in disbelief. "―You're
not serious?"
"Safu isn't a criminal. She hasn't committed any crime.
If anyone has, it's whoever captured her."
Inukashi yawned widely.
"Hey, you know, this is great and all, but would anyone
mind if I excused myself and went to bed? I gotta get up
early tomorrow morning to take care of the dogs."
"You're right," Rikiga agreed. "If we keep him too late,
even Mr. Big-Shot's ID card wouldn't be enough to get him
back through the gates. Shall we go, Fura-sama?"
The man ignored Rikiga, and remained stiff and
unmoving. A bead of sweat rolled down his face, mingled
with blood, and dripped from the tip of his chin. Just as
the droplet hit the back of his hand, the man whispered
faintly.
"I have the latest."
"Huh?"
"I have the latest. But the portion where the new
facility has been built is still blank."
Shion widened his eyes in disbelief, and knelt on both
knees in front of the man. His voice was hoarse from
excitement.
"You're going to tell us about the inside of the
Correctional Facility?"
 The man remained silent. He wiped his streaming
sweat, and nodded. Inukashi slipped forth. He fished out a
white mouse-shaped robot, and held its small head firmly.
The robot split open at its back, and a beam of
reddish-yellow light fanned out upwards. An image
appeared in it. The man's Adam's apple bobbed as he
swallowed.
"A hologram, huh."
"That's what they call it. I don't know much myself.
The red circles are where the security devices are,
according to what I've gathered. So, how is it? No
mistakes, are there, old man?"
Inukashi peered into the man's face, twitching the tip
of his nose. The man continued staring at the floorplan of
the Correctional Facility as if glued to it.
"Electronic pen?" Nezumi offered a silver pen to him.
"No. I'll use my own." The extracted a pen from his
inner coat pocket, and inserted the tip of it into the light.
The gauze on the back of his hand was beginning to bleed
through; the expression on his face was tense, and his
fingertips were shaking―but nevertheless, the pen swept
smoothly through the air, drawing countless complicated
lines onto the diagram.
"Whoa―awesome," Inukashi raised his voice
amazement. Rikiga was looking down at the man with a
pitying gaze.
 The pen slipped from the man's hand and fell onto the
floor.
"This... is about all I know."
The number of security devices had grown to three
times more than what Inukashi had originally put down. In
contrast, the number of cells housing prisoners had shrunk
to two-thirds. Automatic barriers were placed in the
hallways at intervals, perhaps to prevent prisoners from
escaping, or intruders from entering the premises. Once
activated, they would come down and trap any runaway or
intruder. Or rather, they would dispose of them.
Shion swallowed hard. Judging by the layout of the
electrical circuits, it looked like the barriers were made to
release high-voltage current. Once the walls blocked the
intruder and cut him off from any means of escape, the
chamber would instantly become an electric chair. The
hallway would become an execution ground.
"It's like a citadel." Shion exhaled.
"It's a place of holocaust." Nezumi picked the pen up,
and put it back in the man's pocket. "Eventually it'll
become a brilliant monument of genocide."
"Genocide―" Shion repeated. "How many people have
been killed here?"
Nezumi slowly shook his head.
"Shion, it's not 'have been'. It's not a thing of the past
yet. People are still being killed right now. The cells have
decreased, but it's not because there are less prisoners.
There are just less of them that are being put into the
cells. You understand what I'm saying, right?"
"Yeah."
They would dispose of prisoners before they even got
to their cells. They would simply be discarded, like
garbage.
Rikiga gave a short groan, and put a hand to his
mouth. Sweat glistened on his pale face.
"Stop that," he said. "It's making me feel ill."
"You must be kidding me," Inukashi said indignantly.
"Don't even think about throwing up in my room." He
swung his thin arms around wildly.
"I have a question." Nezumi, still on one knee, pointed
at the hologram. "Why do you know so much? How can you
remember the inside of the Correctional Facility in such
detail?"
"I had a look at it just recently―there was a section in
the top-secret files about the Correctional Facility. I
skimmed through the ones about the interior layout."
"And what exactly are these top-secret files about the
Correctional Facility?"
"Well―"
"It can't be the mayor's project. It has to be top-secret
information that's still accessible to high officials of your
rank―what is it?"
 The man gritted his teeth. The cut inside his mouth
seemed to bother him, and he gave a scowl.
"Is it about the Hunt?"
As soon as Nezumi said the word, both Inukashi and
Rikiga looked at each other, then looked away. Shion felt
uneasy. No one had given him a satisfactory explanation of
what "The Hunt" was supposed to be. The man remained
silent as his vacant gaze wandered in space.
"Is there going to be a Hunt soon?"
"It's called a Clean-up."
"Clean-up? Oh, right. That's what you guys call
manhunting. Cleaning up garbage, right? So when is it?"
"I don't know. No set date has been decided yet. But it
will probably be before the Holy Celebration."
Holy Celebration. This was something Shion was
familiar with. On this day, all of No. 6 would be full of
festivities celebrating the birth of the city. Fireworks
would be launched, and the city flag―a golden oval
symbolizing the Moondrop, set on a white
background―would be hung everywhere. Citizens would
celebrate their fortuitous privilege of being a resident of
the Holy City, and would shower 'our mighty No. 6' with
praise. A year ago, Shion had been in the midst of the
clamour. He could still remember it clearly. He had been
on his way home to Lost Town when a slightly aged
gentleman had stopped him. The man had reprimanded
him, and asked him why he wasn't waving the city flag and
celebrating the Holy Day. And it wasn't just that man. In
the mere space of an hour's walk from the Central Station
to his home, he had been met with the same kind of
indignant rhetorical question from several people―among
them a young woman, an elderly person, and a
middle-aged matron. The matron who approached him last
had even pushed a flag forcefully into his hands, saying,
"Fulfil your responsibilities as a citizen. Come on, wave
your flag." Shion remembered his discomfort, the
displeasure, and his unease at the mass of waving flags,
and the voices of the crowd chanting "our almighty City".
The Holy Celebration was that kind of day.
Nezumi flashed a crooked smile.
"So they're gonna do some major housecleaning before
the big day."
"The population in the West Block has grown too large.
These days, it's been burgeoning with displaced people.
Violent crimes are increasing, like the ambush at the
Access Control Office that happened the other day. It's
about high time for... for a clean-up."
"And exactly how many other places are left on this
earth where people can still live safely? If people see a
place that looks more suitable to live, they'll try to move
there. Is that a crime?"
"We allow certain numbers, up to a degree."
"Up to a degree? Hah," Nezumi laughed shortly, "you
mean until they start becoming a threat to No. 6."
 "Yes. If frustration builds, and the starving people of
the West Block decide to start a riot, it's just more trouble
for us. We're helping to alleviate overcrowding by doing
this, you know. It should be good news to you."
"Well, well. How considerate of you." Nezumi hunched
his shoulders exaggeratedly. Shion gripped Nezumi's
shoulder firmly.
"Nezumi, you're not telling me the Hunt is―"
"The Hunt is what?"
"No way―how can it..." Shion trailed off, then began
again. "Tell me. What's going to happen here before the
Holy Celebration?"
"Think for yourself!" Shion's hand was roughly shaken
off. Nezumi's voice was like a slap in the face.
"I'm not your personal tutor. If you think everyone will
just hand you your answers, you're wrong. Use your own
head. Imagine." Nezumi sucked in a breath, and softened
his tone.
"I reckon your flimsy imagination would be no match
for reality, though." He dusted his hands off, and stood up.
"I'm going home," the man muttered, and raised
himself unsteadily to his feet as well. "I'm going home. Let
me go."
"Fura-san, thank you for everything." The words of
gratitude were out of Shion's mouth before he knew it. His
thoughts were tangled, and his heart was still distraught
from hearing the conversation between Nezumi and the
man. But he was still grateful for what Fura had given
them. A man who had been living as an elite all his life
had purposely committed a treasonous act towards the
city. Shion could understand the sort of pressure and fear
that Fura was feeling right now.
"I know it's odd to say thanks after everything we've
done to you, but I'm grateful. Really, thank you very
much."
The man stopped in front of the door, and turned
around.
"And you?"
"Huh?"
"Aren't you going back?"
Unable to comprehend the sudden question, Shion
focused his eyes on the man's swollen lips instead.
"Do you mean to No. 6?"
"Yes. You're not considering going back to the city at
all?"
"I'm not."
"You're going to stay here."
"Yes."
"Why? Don't you feel homesick for the Holy City? Don't
you want to go back?"
 "I do miss some people. There are people I'd like to
meet again. But I have no intention of going home."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not a place where I ought to return. And
because I've realized that, I guess."
The man put a hand on the doorknob, and opened the
door.
"You're a... a fool."
"Am I? I don't think so."
"You're a fool."
The man left the room. Rikiga followed after him. The
door closed, and the candle flickered from the breeze.
The three that were left in the room looked down at the
diagram the man had left behind.
"I just remembered something." Inukashi sat down on
the bed. "An old tale my Mum used to tell me. About the
northern wind and the sun. Know about it?"
"Yeah," Shion answered. "It was in one of Nezumi's
books. It was a picture book. It's the one where the wind
and the sun compete to see who could get a journeyman's
coat off first, right?"
"Yeah yeah, that one. No matter how much the wind
blows and blows at the journeyman, the guy only holds
onto his coat tighter so it doesn't get blown away. But as
soon as the sun shines down on him, he takes it off
because he's hot."
 "Inukashi, what're you getting at?" Nezumi knitted his
eyebrows in displeasure.
"I just thought it was like the two of you. Too bad,
Nezumi. Shion was able to get the coat off much more
easily."
"Say what you will," Nezumi said dismissively.
"―Shion."
"Hm?"
"Do you think we can trust this floorplan?"
"Yeah."
"You're being naive."
"You think he went out of his way to write in fake
information?"
"What if he had? Maybe you just think you've gotten his
coat off successfully, but he's actually just wearing armour
underneath."
"He didn't have a reason to lie. He would have known
that we'd let him go home, even if he hadn't told us
anything. But he took the trouble to give us top-secret
information."
"Maybe he's set a trap for us."
"You think so? You honestly think so?"
"I'm just saying there's the possibility and the risk. But
knowing that doesn't do anything for us. What he's left us
is the best information we have. We don't have the
method or the time to figure out if it's real or not."
"So you're saying we have no choice but to believe it."
"Unfortunately."
Inukashi sprawled out on the bed and barked out a
laugh. "Look at him, trying to act cool. Unfortunately my
ass! You know, Shion, Professor Nezumi here is actually
impressed that the guy gave away top-secret information
so easily. He didn't even imagine you'd do so well. He sees
you in a new light now―he's just not showing it. Stubborn
boy," Inukashi sighed in mock exasperation. "If he's
impressed, he should just admit that he is."
"Inukashi!" Nezumi said angrily.
"Don't get mad at me. It's the truth." Inukashi's face
turned serious, and he glanced at Nezumi and Shion while
he lay on his stomach.
"But what're you gonna do now, Nezumi? You serious
about using the Hunt to get into the Correctional Facility?"
"Yeah. And lucky for us, it looks like a Hunt is
scheduled to happen soon."
"Lucky, huh," Inukashi echoed. "Just to tell you, I'm
opting out of this. I don't want anything to do with
something this risky, and I don't have any obligation to be
involved."
"Your chance to shine is just coming up," Nezumi said.
"I've got work for you to do outside of the Facility. The
alcoholic said so too: we're in this together until the end.
There's no way you can take your two gold coins and run.
You know that, don't you, Inukashi? More than anyone
else."
Inukashi stuck his lip out, and pulled his face into a
scowl. Nezumi cast a hand over the hologram, and called
Shion's name.
"Shion."
"Hm?"
"Memorize this entire floorplan. We won't be able to
take any micro-robots into the Correctional Facility. Any
machine that's not equipped with a recognizable chip will
be destroyed, no matter how small. Take one wrong step,
and whoever's holding the machine will probably be blown
up along with it. And we won't have the time to pull out a
map and check our bearings every time we get lost."
"You want everything from this?"
"Everything. Commit it to memory perfectly. I want
every sensor location, security system layout, and the
location of every garbage bin memorized, without any
errors. Even a tiny incongruity can cost us our life."
"Alright."
Nezumi tossed the micro-robot to Shion.
"We don't have much time. Commit everything to
memory perfectly―that's your assignment."
 "That's a more difficult assignment than anything I've
gotten before."
"How confident do you feel?"
"Confident."
Huh. Nezumi blinked and gave a huff. It seemed like
he had not expected Shion's definite answer.
"I guess I should have known you'd be good at doing
brain-work, huh?"
"It's not a question of whether I'm good at it or not. It
doesn't matter whether I can or can't―it's something I have
to do."
Lives depended upon it. Safu's, Nezumi's, his own;
Inukashi's and Rikiga's irreplaceable lives depended upon
it.
He clenched his hand around the white micro-robot.
Even if he squeezed hard enough to crush it, the
man-made machine never screeched in alarm like Hamlet
or Cravat, nor did it feel warm and soft in his hand like
them. It was merely stiff and cold. Nezumi's lips relaxed
into a smile. He chuckled softly.
"Looks like you've learned to grasp the situation a
little, at least."
"You trained me."
Nezumi pursed his lips.
"―Stay close to me," he muttered.
 "Huh?"
"The Hunt is coming soon. Stay close to me, and don't
wander off. Wherever you go, keep in sight of me. If we
lose sight of each other in the middle of the Hunt, we'll
probably never see each other again. Your chances of
living will go down drastically, to say the least."
"Got it," Shion said heavily.
"I think the chances are low enough without you losing
sight of him," Inukashi's whole body shook as he laughed.
The rusty bed-springs creaked and made an irritating
noise. "When people get captured during the Hunt, they
get thrown into the Correctional Facility where most of
them die or go insane. It'd be a miracle if you could live
through it and manage to come back out. It'd be as
miraculous as the sun splitting in two."
"You can make miracles happen more easily than you
think, Inukashi. Hasn't your mom told you?" Nezumi threw
the superfibre cloth around his shoulders, and headed for
the door. Inukashi called after him.
"Nezumi, there's more."
"More? More what?"
"Mum didn't say anything about miracles, but she told
me this after the story of the wind and the sun. 'No wind
or sun can take our hides off us,' she said. 'You may not
have a coat of fur, but don't you ever give in to the wind
or sun.' And then she licked me all over."
"Admirable mother you've got."
 "She's the best." Inukashi leapt off the bed, and glided
to Nezumi's side. "I've been raised by my Mum. I still
remember how her fur used to feel, her scent, and what
she told me. I remember, and that's why―"
"What?"
"That's why I'm going to survive. I'm going to keep on
living here with my dogs. Even if you guys die, even if you
never come back out of the Correctional Facility again, I'll
still keep living. I'm going to live, and tell the rest of the
dogs about my Mum."
"A fine vow. Your deceased mother would probably be
overjoyed to hear that." Nezumi's hand stretched forth to
stroke Inukashi's tan cheek.
"Good night, my boy. May God bless you with sweet
dreams to give you strength for tomorrow," he said gently,
in a woman's voice. Before Inukashi could open his mouth,
Nezumi had disappeared out the door. Inukashi spoke to
the darkness.
"Just watch me―I'll live through it without you all."
"We'll all live through it," Shion said quietly. Death was
not in their plan. They would act, think, and fight to live.
To survive―together.
"Oh, I forgot to say something." Nezumi's breezy voice
echoed from the darkness. "Inukashi, if you want a
good-night kiss, I suggest you get one from Shion. He
would give you a very adroit and passionate kiss, indeed."
"Nezumi!" Shion said indignantly.
 Nezumi's laughter faded into the distance. It became
one with the sound of the wind, and was sucked into the
darkness.

-- END OF CHAPTER 2 --
CHAPTER 3
Blackout

Did you come to me

because I dropped off to sleep,
tormented by love?
If I had known I dreamed,
I would not have awakened.
- Ono no komachi [1]

"You should write a letter," Nezumi said, without

looking up from his book.
"A letter―to my mother?"
"If you have other pen pals, them too."
"Will you deliver them?"
"He will." A small mouse was perched on Nezumi's
knee, cleaning its whiskers.
"Thank you, Hamlet."
"You don't need to thank him. Every time he goes to
see your Mama, he gets to stuff himself with tasty bread.
So he's in a good mood."
 Shion scribbled a few words on a torn slip of paper. A
score of letters. Just a single line. What feelings would he
instill in them?
He finished writing, and stuffed the slip into a
capsule. Hamlet took it in its mouth, and gave its tail a
smart flick. Nezumi closed his book with a snap. It was a
beautiful book bound in blue, with white flower petals
scattered across the cover. Shion decided to ask him about
it.
"What were you reading?"
"An ancient story from a country far, far away, at the
ends of the earth. A very ancient tale."
"A myth?"
"A tale about humans." Nezumi stood up, and slid the
book back into the shelf. The room filled with books was
warm, thanks to the old heater. It wasn't like when he was
living in the luxury neighbourhood of Chronos in No. 6,
where he was protected by the atmosphere control
system, and was able to live in just the right temperature
and humidity regardless of the season, hour of the day, or
the weather outside. There was no hope of that kind of
environment here, but he found the uneven heat of this
room much more comfortable than something controlled
by machines. If he was cold, he would don a blanket and
draw closer to the heater. If he was hot, he would back
away, and shed his overcoat. That was all there was to it.
And he had not even known. He had learned, here, in this
room.
 "Say―" Shion began, as he poured himself a cup of hot
water that was boiling on top of the heater. "Does it get
hot here in the summer?"
Nezumi turned towards him from the bookcase, and
narrowed his eyes.
"What about the summer?"
"Well, I mean―I figure since it's underground it would
be pretty cool, and since the books aren't mouldy, it
probably doesn't get that humid either... but I was just
wondering if it's comfortable."
"It's alright. Better than Inukashi's hotel."
"But what should we do with the heater?"
"Huh?"
"In the winter we can just use it like this, but it
probably wouldn't do in the summer, would it? But how
else would we cook our food? We won't be able to boil
water, either." He handed a cup of hot water to Nezumi. It
was the only kind of drink available here.
"Are you telling me you're worrying about food for the
summer now?"
"I'm not worried, I was just wondering how―oh! You
must cook outside. Get a fire going, and cook the food
there."
"Well―that's one way to do it."
"Ahh, I see," Shion hummed in a satisfied way. "Oh, but
it must be a hassle if it rains."
 "Shion." Nezumi lifted his cup slightly. Shion could see
a pair of dark grey eyes looking at him through the rising
steam.
"Are you planning to stay here in the summer, too? I
mean, do you really think you can?"
"As long as you don't kick me out."
"I'm not that pitiless. You can stay here as long as you
like."
"Thanks. I'm relieved."
"Summer, huh," Nezumi said pensively. "Wonder what it
would be like. I've never thought that far ahead. ―Wonder
if you'll still be here."
"I'm planning on it."
"Alive, you mean? Or would you be a handful of bones
in an urn or something?"
"No bones. I wouldn't wanna be buried in the ground,
either." I want to experience summer as a living being by
your side. I want to live here, in this room, buried in
thousands of books. I want to feel the sweat streaming
down my body, and the sun's burning rays pricking at my
skin.
"Nezumi, I want to see summer here."
"Alive?"
"Alive."
 "A modest wish. But it'll be hard to grant." Nezumi
leaned back on the bookcase, and abruptly changed the
subject. "Shion, do you think the commotion inside the
city has something to do with the parasite wasps?"
Shion seated himself on the floor, and raised one knee.
A mouse scurried up on top of it. It was a third mouse,
which Shion had named Tsukiyo from the dark colour of its
fur.
"Yeah, I do. I'm not quoting Fura-san, but I find it hard
to believe that an unknown disease would suddenly begin
spreading inside No. 6."
"Really? It might be due to a new virus. Transmission
via emergent virus. Not impossible, is it?"
In 1980, the World Health Organization announced the
complete eradication of the smallpox virus. Ironically, in
the following years, a continuous stream of viruses
unknown to humankind began to make their appearance.
Ebola, HIV, the Sin Nombre, Nipah, Lassa, Hantan―to
refer to such viruses that cropped up continually, people
used the blanket term "emergent viruses".
Shion shook his head in disagreement.
"I don't think it's a virus."
"Why not?"
"Emergent viruses were originally naturally occurring
parasites to animals living in the tropical forests. Viruses
probably only began emerging from the sealed depths of
the jungle because of deforestation―that's how humankind
came in contact with them. So what I'm saying is that the
viruses didn't come walking in themselves; it was a result
of mankind stepping into their territory. But No. 6 is
different. It's closed off, isolated. It runs its walls all
around, and doesn't mingle with other realms. They
manage and inspect every little thing that comes through
the gates, right down to the nanometre scale. I don't think
it's possible for a virus to enter from outside."
"Awfully confident when it comes to these kinds of
topics, aren't you?" Nezumi said sourly. "But there are guys
like that womanizer who come to the West Block in
secret. He could've picked up the virus here. That's
possible, isn't it?"
"Then there should be patients cropping up in the West
Block as well. Given the population density here, there
should be double, triple the number―all people who've
suddenly collapsed, showing symptoms no one's ever seen
before. If such a situation actually arose, all the gates
would be closed. No one would be able to go into or out of
the city."
"So you're sticking with the parasite wasp theory."
"Nezumi, I've seen it with my own eyes. Yamase-san
collapsed, aged, and died right in front of me. And
afterwards, a wasp appeared out of his―the base of his
neck―his body. It was an unnatural death. I can't think of
any other cause. What's happening inside the city right
now has to have something to do with the parasite wasps."
 "But where did those wasps come from? How can an
insect that's several centimetres long enter the Holy City
that can weed out viruses only electron microscopes can
catch? They're not normal wasps. They plant themselves in
people's bodies and kill their host. They're skilled
hitmen―or hitwasps, I should probably say."
Nezumi fell silent. He cupped the warm mug in both
hands, and looked Shion in the eye.
"Shion―are you thinking of the same thing I am?"
"Probably."
"Say it."
His throat was dry. So dry, it hurt. Shion 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," Shion 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," Shion muttered to himself. "How could
that―"
Thunk. There was a dull noise. A cup grazed Shion's
arm as it fell, bounced off a book, and rolled on the floor.
"Huh?"
In a corner of his vision, Shion could see Nezumi falling
forward. He gradually crumpled to his knees, as if in slow
motion.
"Nezumi!" Shion 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. Shion 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
Shion's arm and dug in. They were shaking violently.
Shion 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 Shion's hands.
"―Shion―" Nezumi called his name weakly between his
groans.
"―help me..."
Shion 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 shirt 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?
Shion 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." Shion 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 God. He
knew right down to the marrow of his bones how banal 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
passed 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 Shion. It was
certain that Shion 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. Inukashi was
right―Nezumi was a little impressed.
Shion's white hair shimmered orange, lit by the light of
the heater. He never said it out loud, but Nezumi liked
Shion'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 Shion'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 Shion 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 grass. Hot vapours rose,
filled with its grassy 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.
Shion.
He clung desperately.
Shion―help me.
***

The bluish-grey elevator doors were closing silently.

The moment their edges met as they closed completely,
Fura let out a deep sigh. The Security Bureau officials
flanking him on both sides were as still as stone statues.
"Why..."
He knew it was useless to ask, but he couldn't bear to
be silent.
"Why are you arresting me?"
Just as he thought, there was no reply. He posed a
second question.
"Is this... the Correctional Facility?"
His knees were shaking so badly, he could barely keep
standing. This morning, he had left the house as usual. His
wife had seen him to the door, with their son in her arms.
"The edge of your mouth still looks painful."
"It's nothing. You can't even tell."
"Silly you, falling down and getting yourself hurt like
that."
"Don't tell anyone, now. I'd be so embarrassed if
anyone found out I got this from falling down the stairs at
the park. I've been keeping this a secret."
His wife's face suddenly grew concerned.
"Be careful. Thank goodness it was just a small wound
this time. But every time I think something might happen
to you―I get chills all over."
"Nothing's going to happen to me. I have to get going
now."
 He had kissed his wife on the cheek, and gotten into
the car that had come to fetch him from the Central
Administration Bureau. Just before he got into the car, his
wife had called him.
"Dear, you'll keep it in mind, won't you?"
"Keep in mind?"
"My going back to work. I'd like it to happen in the new
year."
His wife had a career at the Traffic Administration
Bureau. Since their son had been recognized as an elite
and guaranteed a perfect educational environment, she
had expressed a desire to return to her workplace and
resume her work.
"It should be no problem."
In No. 6, a woman who had given birth but desired to
go back to work had an almost-one-hundred-percent
chance of obtaining support to achieve it. Fura's direct
superior was a woman with two children. When people
were given jobs, they were chosen not by gender but
through judgment of their individual skills.
"You should start making preparations for returning. If
there's anything I can help with, I'll be there to do it, of
course."
"Thank you. That makes me so happy." His wife smiled.
Their son wriggled in her arms. He flailed his arms at Fura.
"Papa, a bug was flying."
 "Huh?"
"A bug was flying. A black bug."
"When it's so cold outside? Ha ha, it would have to be a
little warmer for there to be any bugs flying around."
It was sunny, but a biting northern wind was blowing.
Perhaps it would snow in the afternoon. Maybe I'll leave
work early today.
He waved to his wife and son. The car glided forward.
It was a morning like any other. Other than the wound on
his palm that throbbed with a dull pain, there was nothing
out of the ordinary. It was a morning like any other.
Things began to change when they had passed through
the gates of Chronos. His car was stopped by Security
Bureau officials, and he was asked to comply.
"We're very sorry. On mayoral orders, we've been told
to change your destination." The two men were wearing
uniforms from the Law Enforcement division, and spoke in
a polite but firm tone that left no room for argument.
Fura felt a violent chill run down his spine. It was a kind of
chill that had nothing to do with the frigid wind that
swept by him.
"You will be transferring onto this car which we've
prepared."
"Where... will I be going?"
"The mayor is waiting."
"City Hall? Then there isn't any need for―"
 "We will escort you there."
They transferred onto the Security Bureau car.
"If you will excuse my intrusion―" Vapid words of
courtesy were followed by something covering his eyes. A
special eye-mask shut out all the light from his vision, and
Fura was plunged into a world of darkness.
At first he compared it to the darkness of the West
Block, but quickly changed his mind. It was much too
different. The darkness of the West Block was deeper, and
more beautiful. It was a deep, deep darkness that seemed
to hide something in its depths. It was frightening and
unnerving, but nevertheless he was attracted to it. He was
attracted to the fact that it made him certain that there
was something mysterious lurking there. He had a healthy
attachment for the women in the West Block, but he had
also gone beyond the walls out of a desire to encounter
that darkness. He was perhaps three when he had first felt
like there was something lurking in a dark corner of his
yard. He was scolded severely by his parents for saying so.
There's nothing in this world that we don't know about.
Don't ever say something stupid like that again. His
mother and father―usually so kind, almost too kind―had
both risen unrecognizably in anger, and chastised their
son.
From then on, Fura never made mention of the thing
that lurked in the darkness. In time, he forgot about it. In
the West Block he encountered true darkness, and
rejoiced even as he cowered at it. The sensations and
memories of his childhood, long buried, resurfaced again.
He was attracted to it. Yes, he had most certainly been
attracted to that place.
But would that become a threat to his life?
So my trips to the West Block must have been found
out.
But what would happen then? Rewriting records is a
serious crime. If it's been exposed, it wouldn't go without
grave consequences.
He would be stripped of all qualifications; his special
privileges would vanish; he would be exiled from Chronos.
He thought of a worst-case scenario. Fura's heart was
unusually calm. He had no attachment to his
qualifications, privileges, or Chronos―not as strong as the
attachment he had for the darkness of the West Block. It
was strange. They were perplexing feelings which even he
could not explain.
A boy's face floated into his mind. A snowy-haired, odd
boy. He had announced clearly that he had no intention of
returning to No. 6.
He had probably been able to declare it so firmly
because of his age; he was young, reckless, and ignorant.
But even so―even if he was young and foolish, was it
possible to cast a place like No. 6 aside so easily? That was
the part he could not understand.
This is taking rather long.
 This was taking too much time for a trip to City Hall.
With this amount of travel time, they would have passed
through the centre of the city a long time ago.
"Wh―Where are we going?" His voice cracked
nervously.
"The mayor is waiting."
"But haven't we passed the Moondrop already?"
"Quiet, please. If not―"
"If not, what?"
He heard a muffled chuckle. It was even more
terrifying than threatening words.
"T-Tell me the reason why I'm being escorted―the real
reason. I'm begging you, tell me."
"Quiet, please," the man on the right said. The man on
the left tapped Fura lightly on the shoulder.
It was a fair amount of time after that before the car
finally came to a stop. When it stopped, he was unloaded
and seated in an electrical wheelchair, still blindfolded.
He was wheeled down a long hallway. It was a very quiet
place. He could only hear the subdued sound of the motor
of his wheelchair. The two Security Bureau officials made
no sound as they walked, perhaps due to some special
footwear or because they had been trained to walk
silently. When Fura's eye-mask had been removed and he
had gotten up from his chair, the first thing that jumped
into his vision were the doors of an elevator about to
close. Beyond the door he could see a glass-paned room
filled with men and women clad in white lab coats.
A hospital? No... this surely isn't―
Why are you arresting me?
Is this the Correctional Facility?
He continued to pose questions that received no
answer.
Tell me. Somebody.
The elevator stopped.
It had descended―gone down.
Correctional Facility. Basement. A place newly-built. A
new elevator.
He had abused the powers of his profession to rewrite
records. He would be held responsible, and receive a stern
warning from the mayor himself. Admonition. Punishment.
No, it was nothing like that. Not even half as forgiving.
Terror pierced his body.
"Let me go back!"
He twisted his body.
"Let me out of here. Let me out."
There was a jolt in the base of his neck. It was electric
current. His whole body went numb.
"I told you to be quiet."
 He heard the Security Bureau official give another
muffled chuckle.

"It looks like the preparations are complete," the man

in the white lab coat said as he turned around. The mayor
of No. 6, the first in his generation, brought his white
porcelain mug to his lips, and sipped the dark brown
beverage inside.
"I see. Alright."
"Hmm? Something the matter? You look a little pale."
"I've been busy lately."
"Tired? That's not good. Exhaustion opens the door for
all sorts of ailments. I would advise you to be careful. I'll
write you a prescription later."
"Please."
"The project is almost finished. And until it's
complete―no, even after that―you have to stay healthy.
Shall we go, then?"
The mayor put his mug down. It was a perfectly
ordinary mug at first glance, but upon closer examination
one could see intricate patterns engraved onto the back of
the handle. It was a considerably expensive item.
"You're sure you're going to do this?" The man in the
lab coat gazed at him in disbelief for a moment before
letting his shoulders shake with laughter.
"Of course."
 "But unlike the girl before, this time―say, what have
you done with that girl?"
"Her? She's well. She's having a little trouble coming
to, but soon she'll be fully alert. She's a very beautiful girl,
and I've taken a liking to her. I'll treat her well."
"She might have been an elite, but she was still a
student. The elite we have in our hands this time is in an
actual profession."
"He will be all the more useful because he's in a
profession. In more ways than one. And besides, he was a
defective product, was he not, according to your research?
Despite pledging allegiance to our city, he was exercising
treason."
"Well, you're right about that―he was going out to the
West Block without a valid reason. He's recently gotten
wounds on his face and hand, which were probably
received in the West Block as well. There are strong
suspicions that he's manipulated records. It most certainly
is treason, but―"
"He ought to be punished."
"In this sort of way?"
"Fennec." The man in the lab coat called the mayor by
his old nickname. Was it this man who gave me this
nickname in my school days, after a small desert-dwelling
fox?
The man stood in front of the mayor, and placed a
hand on his shoulder.
 "Fennec, you are going to be King."
The tall man bent forward slightly, and spoke a little
faster.
"Your days of overseeing politics as mayor are over.
From now on, you will reign. As the absolute King, you are
going to dominate this land."
"I know."
"Then why are you hesitating? Who cares about one or
two defective products?"
"You're right," the mayor relented.
"And this is a contribution. He is contributing to our
good. It's an honourable thing for the man as well."
The man in the lab coat muttered once again.
You will reign as the absolute King.
The mayor nodded, and squared his shoulders. Let us
go, then, he said, as he ushered the man in the lab coat
out.

The room was bare. It was called Experiment Chamber

I. Walls of special alloy ran all around, and there were no
windows. The only piece of furniture was a single chair. A
man was bound to it. Fear and confusion swam in his eyes.
From this side of the wall, they could see everything
that was going on in the room. The man in the lab coat
was tapping his fingers lightly on a control panel with
several buttons and lamps. His thin white fingers moved
rhythmically across the panel, keeping the beat, as if he
was playing a clavier.
Tap, tap, tap, ta-ta-tap, tap, tap, ta-ta―
Is it some kind of musical piece? An unsightly
switchboard, no matter how many times I look at it. It
looks like a misshapen toy. Couldn't he have made it
something more appealing to―
"What now, Fennec?"
"What are you talking about?"
"As mayor, will you declare this man's sentence?"
"No, there's no need."
"The woeful criminal doesn't even understand what
kind of situation he's in. Look how terrified he is, the
pitiful man. Won't you save him?"
"Save? What do you mean?"
"Give him a chance to acknowledge his crime, and beg
God for forgiveness."
The mayor gave a hearty scowl.
There he goes again, spouting strange things out of
the blue. Has he always had these odd tendencies?
"Do you believe in God?"
"Of course not. But aren't there people who wish to
obtain mercy from God before taking their journey,
peaceful at heart?"
 "There might be. But those people don't exist in No.
6."
"I see. I haven't said anything offensive, I hope?"
"You wouldn't normally make that kind of joke."
"My apologies. Then let us begin."
His fingers, which had been tapping out a light rhythm
only moments before, moved almost carelessly this time
to push a button. A part of the wall turned into a white
screen, where various numbers and lines mapped
themselves out.
"It's current data about the criminal on hand. His heart
rate, brain waves, stiffening in muscle tissue―various
measurements of each body part are recorded here."
"I see..."
"In that room right now, there are waves being
emitted at a frequency beyond the level of human
hearing. Sounds are essentially air vibrations. For humans,
those vibrations are transmitted through the eardrum,
malleus, incus, and stapes before they reach the cochlea.
You know that, right? And the range of frequencies that
humans can perceive―"
"Nothing is changing." Fennec stepped forward, and
surveyed the scene in the next room intently. There was
no change. The man bound to the chair, who had been
gazing about uneasily, had just cast his eyes to his feet.
 "There's nothing to fret about. It's starting. But this
will take a little time. Will you have a seat?"
"No."
"Then shall I treat you to a cup of coffee? I have the
best blend of beans."
"You're offering me to drink coffee? Here?"
"Would you prefer wine instead?"
"No―that's quite alright."
"It seems you're not in the mood to listen to my
lecture."
"I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't have much of an
interest in organs of the auditory system."
The man in the lab coat shrugged, and lapsed into
silence. Nothing happened.
"Are you sure there hasn't been some failure?" the
mayor muttered in a low voice.
"Me? Allow a failure to happen? A rather flat joke
yourself, Fennec."
"But..."
The lab coat's face stiffened. His bloodless face turned
even paler, and a vein in his temple twitched.
Ah yes―he remembered that the man hated the word
"failure" more than anything else. He detested the word as
if it had the power to physically harm him.
 He changed the subject.
"So about the incidents that have been happening
lately―they appear to be quieting down for the time
being. There have been no other reports."
"There will probably be no more of them in the
future."
"Can I count on your word?"
"Of course."
"I'm counting on you. If those things keep continuing
their activities in the city, things will get out of hand."
"Those were outlier cases."
"But why are outliers even occurring? And they're all
occurring in people who aren't registered to be samples."
"There must have been instances of carelessness in the
preliminary stages of the project. But it's nothing to be
upset about. Outliers are nothing more than outliers.
―Ah―"
"Hm?"
"It's happening." The man in the lab coat pointed.
The so-called criminal had grown rigid in his chair, his
chest thrown out and his head flung back. He was shaking
his head from side to side, screaming something.
"Would you like to hear the audio?" The lab coat asked
him with a finger poised over a green button.
 "No, that's quite fine," Fennec replied hastily, shaking
his head, yet taking care not to make his agitation visible.
If he could, he would not have wanted to see
something like this. He wanted to leave this barren room
and return to his office. My room, on the top floor of the
Moondrop. Exquisite furniture and a magnificent
view―indeed, a place most suited for me.
"See, take a closer look. It is coming out." The lab
coat's voice was trembling. His face wore a dreamy
expression. The man in the chair was no longer moving.
How easily defeated he was. The man's hair had grown
white. The snowy strands fell softly to the floor, as if they
had lost the strength to hold on. Senile plaque was
starting to dot his translucent skin. Fennec could tell even
from where he was standing.
"Let's zoom in. See," the man in the lab coat jerked his
chin at the monitor. A larger image of the man, his head
bowed, filled the screen. His eyes were wide open, and his
mouth twisted; he had the face of one who had lost his
life even before he could decipher what was happening to
him. Brown spots were scattered all over his face, which
was lined with deep creases. His teeth, peeking out from
his half-open mouth, looked like they were about to fall
out any minute. He looked like he was nearing a hundred
in age. And the base of his neck―there was a darker stain
there, swollen and stirring. All sound was blocked out in
this room. But for some reason, Fennec felt like he could
hear the sounds of human flesh being eaten through.
It came out.
 Wings that shone silver. Antennae. Numerous,
constantly moving legs. A single bee had been born from a
human body.
"We're going to capture you," the man in the lab coat
muttered. His face still wore a dreamy look. A clear
bubble emerged from somewhere below the chair. It was
ball-shaped entrapment robot about ten centimetres in
diameter. Like a soap bubble, it floated up. It enveloped
the bee just as it took flight, and trapped it inside its
spherical body.
"Success!" The lab coat cried. His eyes were bright
with tears of joy. "We've finally succeeded. Ah, I
mean―no, this is just the first step to success. But we've
made certain progress, Fennec."
"Indeed. Congratulations."
"It's still not perfect―no, not near perfect. But success
is still success. A little more―just a little more, and they
will be completely under our control. Hatching,
acceleration of development, eclosion, and the laying of
eggs. We'll control it all. We'll be able to move them
however we want. Brilliant. Finally, we've finally come
this far."
The man in the lab coat clenched his hand into a fist,
and paced restlessly about the room. His cheeks flushed in
excitement, while his lips lost their colour.
"With our last sample, we couldn't control the eclosion
phase. With the male index case, and the male Park
Administration worker, the best we could do was predict
the period of eclosion. It's been how many months since
then? In a mere few months, we've been able to get this
far. Ah, it's as if all those long hours were but a dream.
Once we've come this far, it's only a little more. A little
more―"
Some say there is a but a thin line that divides a
genius and a madman. I couldn't have said it any better.
Fennec took his gaze off the man who was pacing and
muttering to himself, and glanced beyond the wall, inside
Experiment Chamber I. He thought "Execution Chamber"
might be a better name for it.
The body was gone. It had been carted off to the
autopsy room. The chair had been stored away
automatically as well, and the room was now a barren,
empty space. There were no remnants of death. It was a
void.
"No, no, I mustn't overindulge in my happiness. Just
because we can perfectly control eclosion doesn't mean
that it's free of any problems. Of course―it's not like we
have not had any problems. Ah, yes, we still have one very
large problem. Now, as for what to do with it―Fennec!"
The man's voice cracked in excitement as he barked
the mayor's nickname. Displeasure became little jabs that
pricked at his skin irritatingly.
"What is it?"
"I need people."
"For samples?"
 "I need those too."
"What type? How many?"
"This time, type doesn't matter. I want numbers."
"Do they have to be people from inside the city?"
"That doesn't matter. I want quantity, not quality.
Numbers, Fennec."
"Perfect. I've scheduled a Clean-up."
"Brilliant! I'd like one soon, please. And manpower."
"Manpower..."
"A capable workforce. I need staff that can be
extensions of my own limbs, but also have the highest
levels of intelligence."
"Are the people you have at present not enough?"
"Far from enough. I need more intelligent individuals."
"That would be hard," the mayor said hesitantly.
"There's a shortage of elites as it is. If I transfer any more
of them here, we would be severely deficient overall."
"I want you to give this top priority," yelled the man in
the lab coat. At the same time, the lamp on the wall
flashed.
"The preparations are complete in the autopsy room. I
must go. What will you do?"
"I'll go back to the Moondrop."
That is my proper place, after all.
 "I see. I'm counting on you, then. For both samples and
manpower."
A section of the wall slid soundlessly open, and the
man in the lab coat walked out.
Do we really need him?
A suspicion suddenly surfaced in his mind. It was so
sudden, he had to clutch his chest to calm his jagged
breaths.
Do I really need him here? Is this project itself even
needed? Can I not rule this land without relying on him or
his project?
He took a few deep breaths to resume his normal
breathing pattern. He stared at the empty space before
him.
How to dispose of the executed man?
He thought.
Instead of publicizing it as an illness-related death,
what would happen if he announced that he had been
executed? He would let it be seen and known far and
wide, what happened to those who broke the rules of the
Holy City of No. 6; those who tried to trick it; those who
retaliated and refused to submit obediently. He would not
allow so much as a strand of hair to rebel against him. He
would make that attitude clear. He would strengthen its
enforcement. He would strengthen it enough so that
everyone would know. All suspicious individuals were to be
arrested and escorted away. If circumstances called for it,
he could close the congress.
What would happen? Would the citizens rebel? These
were people who had lived their lives devoid of anything
like retaliation or objection: did they still possess any
mind or method to object? Would my beloved citizens, as
loyal as dogs, as powerless as kittens, dare to post a
rejection against my name?
His lips curled, and a chuckle escaped them.
Impossible.
There's no way that would happen. They will all cower
in the face of power, grovel, and obey me.
"Mayor, your scheduled meeting is approaching," his
secretary's voice informed him from a speaker embedded
in the city emblem.
"Very well."
"We have a car waiting for you."
"I'm coming."
But I can't get ahead of myself. We've come this far.
There's nothing to be over-excited about. I will make
things proceed discreetly and artfully.
He walked towards the wall. The door opened, and he
could see the dimly-lit hallway beyond. It, too, was silver.

-- END OF CHAPTER 3 --
***
CHAPTER 4
A Stage of Calamity

Adorable ladies, just as our pity is commended, so

is our cruelty severely punished by divine justice.
And in order to prove this to you, as well as to
give you an incentive for banishing all cruelty
from your hearts, I should like to tell you a story
as delightful as it is full of pathos.
- Boccaccio, The Decameron [1]

He was walking amidst the blades of grass, in a hot

and humid haze. He could see his own feet. They were
very small. The grass grew high, and reached up to his
shoulders.
He realized that he was almost buried in the mass of
vigorous grasses because he was still very young. He
looked up to see the cerulean sky, which was far and high
up. The winds were quiet, and it was very hot.
He was called by his name.
His real name. It had been a long time since he was
called by this name. The air shifted. The breeze swayed
the branches above. The scent of greenery grew stronger.
Who had called him? Who knew his name?
He could hear a song. And the beating of insect wings.
A black shadow crossed his vision. First one, then another,
and yet another. Across a cerulean background, countless
insects flew to and fro, making a ring. As he approached
closer, they scattered in all directions, and came back
together in one spot.
A dance.
They were dancing to the song.
Come here.
He could hear a gentle voice.
Let me teach you a song. I will teach you a song that
you will need to keep living. Come here.
He was called by his name, and beckoned over. It was
a voice that stirred nostalgic feelings. But he could not
move.
The beating of wings grew louder. It buzzed
incessantly in his ears, and the air was humming with it.
Black shadows danced around fiercely.
Oh, this scene―
"Nezumi!"
He was pulled back, strongly, with a definite force.
The song, the beckoning voice, the buzzing of wings, and
the smell of lush greenery, all vanished into thin air.
"Answer me, Nezumi!"
A dim light stung at his eyes. A cold cloth was being
pressed to the nape of his neck. It was very soothing.
"Shion...."
 "Are you awake? Can you see me?"
"Somewhat."
"And you do know where you are?"
"On the bed..." Nezumi said at length. "Did you carry
me here?"
"What's three plus seven?"
"Huh?"
"Addition. If you add three to seven, what do you get?"
"What's this about? Are you quizzing me?"
"Just answer me seriously. What's three plus seven?"
"Ten..." Nezumi answered apprehensively.
"Yes. Correct. Next―what's three times seven?"
"Shion, listen―"
"Three multiplied by seven. Answer me."
"Twenty one."
"Correct. Okay then, what did you eat for dinner
today?"
"Gee, I wonder if that even constitutes as a dinner? I
had two strips of dried potatoes and a bit of goat's milk. I
stole a bag of stale crackers from Inukashi. Almost got
bitten in the process."
"Do you feel dizzy?"
"Not at all."
 "Nausea?"
"I feel fine."
"No headache, either?"
"No."
"Can you tell me what―when you fell, can you explain
to me how it felt?"
Shion was studying him intently. There was a tense,
determined light in his eyes. It made him think of the
surface of a frozen lake.
"A wind... was blowing," Nezumi began hesitantly.
"A wind?"
"The wind blows, and steals souls away."
The wind steals the soul away, humans thieve the
heart
O earth, wind, and rain; O heavens, O light
Keep everything here
Hadn't the voice sung something like this? Nezumi
couldn't remember clearly. But his throat was dry. So dry,
it was painful. A white cup was handed to him. It was full
of clear water. He drained it. Like showers that quenched
a parched land, the water that was offered to him flowed
into his body, and soaked through its every extremity. It
was a deliciousness he could not put into words. He was
now able to take a deep breath, and pose a question.
"Shion, are you worrying about whether I might have
brain damage?"
 "Well, you fainted so suddenly. I had to take all
precautions."
Nezumi put a hand to the base of his neck. With the
same hand, he felt his own chest through his open shirt.
There were no abnormalities. At the least, there were no
changes that could be seen by the naked eye.
"It's not the parasite wasp," Shion said as he exhaled.
"There's no change in your hair or your skin. It wasn't
them."
"That's too bad. It wouldn't seem so bad to have hair
like yours."
"Don't even joke about it," Shion said sharply. "It may
have only been for a few minutes, but you were
unconscious. It's not something you can laugh off."
"It was just a fainting spell."
"A fainting spell? You're saying you just fainted?"
"You have a problem with that?"
"Nezumi." Shion sat down on the bed, and exhaled
again.
"Don't overestimate yourself."
"What?"
"Don't overestimate yourself. You're a human being.
There'll be times where you fall ill, or get hurt. Don't
forget that. I'm no doctor, and I don't have medical
knowledge either―but even I could tell that the way you
collapsed just now wasn't from a simple fainting spell."
 "Thanks for worrying about me. Maybe I should go to
the hospital tomorrow and get myself checked out more
carefully. If I end up having to be charged at the hospital,
I'll make sure to get the VIP room on the top floor, so
make sure to come visit me."
"Nezumi, I wasn't kidding when I said―"
"Shut up!"
He was yelling, but he couldn't tell why. His temper
wasn't out of control, nor did he hate the person in front
of him. But he couldn't help the harshness in his tone.
He did not want someone to be so earnestly concerned
about his well-being like this. He did not want anyone to
be seriously worried. He did not want to be cared about.
Feelings like concern, worry, and care fell all too easily
into the frame of "love". He didn't feel like he needed
anything like that. He could live without it. He always
had. It was unnecessary.
But Shion didn't know that. Here he was, burdened
with all sorts of useless baggage. Maybe it was Shion's
ignorance and stubborn truthfulness that irritated him.
"No numbness in your fingertips, right?" Shion
continued, "Doesn't look like there's any swelling, either..."
His fingers took ahold of Nezumi's hand, which was flung
out on the sheets. Shion's fingertips felt along his hand,
and pressed down lightly at intervals. He was still calmly
and intently searching for the presence of any numbness
or edema. It was like Nezumi's yelling hadn't affected him
at all.
 So not only was he oblivious and stubborn―he was
dense, to top it off.
Nezumi brushed Shion's fingers away, and jumped
down from the bed.
"Nezumi, you shouldn't be getting up so suddenly―"
"I'll teach you."
"Huh?"
"I'll teach you a dance."
"What're talking about? You should be getting some
quiet rest―"
"Over here, come on." Nezumi grabbed Shion's arm,
and forced him to stand. He slid his hand around his waist.
"See, I knew it," he said.
"What?"
"I'm taller than you."
"Liar," Shion retorted. "There's barely any difference."
Nezumi chuckled.
"So, honourable Prince. Have you any experience with
dancing?"
"No."
"I figured as much. Then first, we'll begin with the
basic steps. Come on―back straight, chin up. Don't look
down."
 "Aw, come on, stop it," Shion protested. "We can't
dance in here. Besides, it's too dangerous. If we move
around in a small space like this, we'd knock all the books
over."
"There'll be none of that kind of clumsiness. Alright,
turn here. Step back. Once more, and turn. See, you can
do it," Nezumi encouraged.
"You're just pulling me along."
"You're still doing pretty well. Your movements are
light. Step out and turn. Good, you're staying on the beat.
And repeat the first steps again. Keep dancing―dance,
Shion."
Shion opened his mouth to say something, then shut it
again and lent his body fully to Nezumi's movements. He
tilted an ear to the lighthearted melody that spilled from
Nezumi's lips, and traced his steps. The flame from the
heater cast a shadow of two figures. The little mice
huddled together, and looked down at them from atop
their lofty perch on a pile of books.
"Whoa―!" Shion tripped on his feet, and fell backwards
on top of the bed. His breaths came out in pants, and his
forehead was damp with perspiration.
"That was a workout. It takes your whole body to
dance, doesn't it, huh."
"You didn't know?"
"I didn't. Guess I'm that much smarter now. So?"
 "Hm?"
"I'm all out of breath, but you're not tired at all. Is
that the point you wanted to make?"
"You could say that."
"You have far more energy, athletic skill, and
resilience than me. You're not the one I should be worrying
about―that's what you're saying, right?"
"I wouldn't be that blatant, but―"
Shion stood up. He stood in front of Nezumi, and
reached out. It was a brief gesture, lasting only for a split
second.
Huh?
Nezumi was being held at the base of his neck. Not
even held―Shion's fingers were merely resting on it. But a
violent chill ran through him. It was a piercing shiver like
what a beast felt when it had fallen into a trap.
"I thought it... was going to come out of here," Shion
whispered hoarsely, as if his voice were caught in his
throat. "When you collapsed, that's what I thought. I―I
thought you were going to die. Nezumi, it's not for you."
"Huh?"
"I'm not worrying about you for your sake. I'm only
concerned about you for my own sake―to be free of my
own fears." Shion's fingers drew away. Nezumi realized he
had been holding his breath the whole time.
 "Nezumi, there are still a lot of things out there that I
don't know. But I do know," he hesitated. "―How terrifying
it would be for me to lose you. I'm probably more afraid to
lose you than anyone―anybody else. I'm so scared, it's
unbearable. I want to make sure you'll never disappear
from my side. I don't care if you ridicule me, or sneer at
me―these are my real feelings."
It was none other than a straightforward and simple
confession of love.
I can't live without another―without you.
How direct, how blatant, how foolish of a confession it
was. Shion was, at this moment, committing the enormous
mistake of revealing his foolishness, feminine weakness,
his fragility. But Nezumi found himself unable to ridicule
or sneer at him. It wasn't because he had been
overwhelmed by Shion's sincerity, nor was it because his
heart had been moved by Shion's heartfelt confession.
Who... is he...?
"Good night." Shion cast his eyes down, and slipped
past Nezumi.
"I'll sleep on the floor. Just get some good rest tonight,
alright? You've sweated a lot. You're probably more drained
than you think you are."
"Yeah―" Nezumi was barely able to choke out an
answer. Once Shion's back had retreated into the shadows
of the books, he clutched at his throat, his shoulders rising
and falling as he breathed raggedly.
 I couldn't avoid it.
He wasn't able to avoid Shion's hand. The neck was
one of the most fatal points for a human. Even a small
wound or impact could cost him his life. But he wasn't
able to brush away the hand that reached out to grab it.
Shion had no murderous intent. But Nezumi hadn't let his
guard down either, and he hadn't meant to comply to
Shion's fingers as they reached out to touch him.
I couldn't avoid it. I, out of all people, let myself get
caught.
He couldn't predict, avoid, or reject Shion's gesture.
He had been captured completely. If Shion had been an
enemy, if he had had the intent to kill, if he had been
holding a knife―Nezumi would most certainly have been
killed. Without even a cry, unable to scream, he would
have fallen lifeless to the floor. He would have been
killed.
I'm going to get killed.
Among the feelings that stirred inside him when
Shion's fingers had held his neck, not a single one of them
had any hint of love or yearning. It was fear. He was
terrified. Nezumi had been through numerous dangers
before. He couldn't count how many times he had been
cornered and almost given up. But he had never stood
before someone who made him cower like this, stiff and
unable to move.
Those eyes, those movements, that oppressive
feeling.
 What was that?
He gritted his teeth.
He could hear the little mice skittering across the
floor.
"Cravat, Tsukiyo, quiet down. Come on over here."
Shion was calling the mice. Once the shuffling of
blankets and the soft squeaking of the mice quieted down,
there ceased to be any sound or movement beyond the
stack of books. Silence surrounded them.
I can't live without another―without you.
His cloyingly sweet but sincere confession, along with
the movements that had trapped Nezumi completely―they
lasted for only an instant, but in that time, all emotion
had vanished from Shion's eyes. Those were not the eyes
of one who was baring one's soul in a confession of love.
They were the eyes of one who had delivered an accurate
and fatal stab, and was twisting the knife in the wound.
Shion himself was probably not aware.
Am I the one who hasn't known anything all along?
Shion was a sheltered boy with a stellar intellect and
gentle heart. He had never known to hate, to rebel, or to
fight. He could embrace people, but not hurt them. He
could protect people, but not attack them. He was one
who had nothing to do with brutality or cold ruthlessness.
He was one who could only ever become the sun. Wasn't
that what he was supposed to be? If he wasn't, then―
 He had no idea of Shion's true nature.
Nezumi had saved his life, had his own life saved, and
they had lived and spent their days together. They were
connected more closely, more intimately to each other
than anyone else. He had been avoidant and apprehensive
towards this relationship, but nevertheless he could never
completely sever it; somewhere in his heart he had
desired it, and perhaps he had made it into a kind of
haven for himself.
I'm more afraid to lose you than anyone else.
Shion's words were also his own feelings. He didn't like
admitting it, but it was the truth, and he had no other
choice. But still, even so, for the first time since they had
met, he was losing sight of who Shion was.
Nezumi ground his teeth once more. They made a
thick, heavy noise like the sound of rusty cogwheels
turning. The sound resonated deep within his body.
It wasn't that he had lost sight―he had probably never
seen him properly from the beginning. He had only looked
at the brighter parts of Shion, illuminated by the
spotlight. Until now, Nezumi had always looked at the root
of the plant instead of the flowers that bloomed
above-ground, focusing always on the parts that were
sunken in darkness rather than exposed to light―and he
was confident that he had the ability to render them
clearly.
But he had been blinded.
 He had been too blinded by Shion's carefree smile, his
defenselessness, and his earnest gaze, to be able to see
anything else.
He had not lost sight―he had never seen him from the
beginning.
Nezumi began to get goosebumps.
Shion, exactly what are you?
In his heart, he questioned the boy who was lying
curled up in a blanket with the mice.
What are you?

The news came one day, out of the blue.

The sky was already cloudy in the morning, forecasting
snow later on. The ground was frozen over, and showed no
signs of melting even after noon. Snow came in scattered
flurries, and a chilly wind whistled through the West Block
bazaar.
It was on that kind of day.
An old dog passed away at Inukashi's place.
"He was siblings with my Mum," Inukashi mumbled as
he dug a hole in the frozen earth.
"Then he would be your uncle?"
"I guess so. Now that's one dog less who I can share
memories of my Mum with."
"He was―quite old, though, right?" Shion said quietly.
 "Yeah. Probably close to a hundred in human years. So
he probably didn't suffer much. Yesterday he was still
going around licking the puppies. But when I woke up this
morning, he was already cold. No one noticed. The
puppies that were sleeping with him freaked out because
he was so cold, and they came whining to let me know. He
lived a full life."
"He must've lived admirably."
"He lived admirably," Inukashi repeated.
The ground was frozen solid, and they were not
making much progress with the pitiful hand-shovels and
scraps of wood they were digging with.
"Nezumi," Shion called as he looked up to where
Nezumi was sitting on a portion of a crumbling wall. "Help
us out if you've got nothing else to do."
"Me? Why do I have to dig a dog's grave? Ridiculous."
Inukashi sniffed.
"Shion, leave him alone. I don't want him touching my
dog's grave."
"But we have to get him to sing a song."
"A funeral song, huh."
"Yeah, to send his spirit off," Shion said. "You'll do it,
right, Nezumi?"
"Dirges are expensive, just to let you know. Three
silver coins."
 Inukashi flung his spade aside, and bared his teeth,
growling.
"Get the fuck down here. You greedy, fraudulent
bastard. I'll rip your throat apart."
"With your teeth, the best you could manage would
probably be a piece of mouldy bread," Nezumi replied. "Oh
yeah, speaking of which, weren't there some crackers left
in your cabinet? Maybe I'll have those for lunch."
"Hey, you must be fucking kidding me," Inukashi
snarled. "You better not lay a single finger on those
crackers, Nezumi!"
Inukashi bounded over the ruins after him. Nezumi was
nowhere in sight.
"Hey, wait a minute, you two!" Shion called after
them. "Nezumi, didn't you tell me not to get out of your
sight? Inukashi, are you just gonna leave your uncle here?"
There was no answer from either of them. In the end,
Shion ended up digging the rest of the hole by himself,
into which he laid the aged dog to rest.

By the time Inukashi burst into the room out of

breath, Nezumi was already sitting on the table, dangling
the bag of crackers in his hand.
"Give it back." Inukashi mustered the most
intimidating glare he could. He didn't think it would be
effective, but the bag of crackers was tossed back to him
promptly. He was caught a little off-guard.
 "What? Aren't you hungry?"
"What, would you treat me if I said I was?"
"Stop kidding yourself," Inukashi snapped. "I might
have food for my dogs, but I don't have a single cracker to
give you."
Inukashi put the bag back in the cabinet. It was old
and rickety, but he still kept it locked. However, he could
see the lock had been effortlessly picked.
Geez, I can't even relax or let my guard down around
this guy. Not that I would ever, anyway.
Inukashi relocked the cabinet, and turned around.
Nezumi was still sitting in the same position. Inukashi bent
to pick a pebble off the floor. This room was relatively
durable as opposed to the rest of the hotel, which had
mostly crumbled away into ruin. The wall and the floor
were still intact. It not only blocked out the wind and
rain, as a living space it fell into one of the best that the
West Block had to offer. But even this room was beginning
to show signs of dilapidation. The pebbles that had
evidently been set into the walls as decoration were
beginning to fall out.
If he squinted at the pebble in his hand, he could
almost make out the blue paint on it. He clenched it
lightly in his palm.
"Nezumi."
 As Nezumi turned to look at him, Inukashi hurled the
pebble straight at his face. Nezumi tilted his head just
slightly to dodge it, and furrowed his brow.
"Nezumi." Inukashi called him again. This time, he
didn't throw anything. "What's wrong, hey?"
"What do you mean, 'what's wrong'?"
"You got troubles or something?"
"Troubles?"
"I'm asking you if there's something on your mind."
"Huh?"
The two boys looked at each other, and snorted nearly
at the same time. Then, they fell silent. Nezumi was the
first to open his mouth.
"I don't think I've ever had something on my mind in
my life. Ever."
"I'da figured."
"Same for you, isn't it?"
"Me? I've always got something on my mind. Food for
my dogs, tomorrow's wages. The worrying never ends. I've
got my dogs to take care of. They can be a great help, but
a burden too. I can't let them starve to death. It's not as
worry-free for me as it is for you."
"Worry-free, huh." Nezumi paused. "Hey, Inukashi."
"What?"
 "The Hunt is coming. I think it's gonna come in a day or
two."
"You mean you feel it coming, right?"
"Yeah, I feel it. I'm wondering if I should tell them."
"Who?"
"The other West Block residents."
Inukashi blinked, and fixed Nezumi's profile with a
stare.
"You mean tell them to run away because the Hunt is
coming?"
"Yeah."
"Where would they run?"
Nezumi didn't answer. His eyes were cast down, his
gaze fixed on the tip of his boot. At a glance, it looked
like his mind was racing with thoughts; then again, it also
looked like he was hesitating to give an answer.
"If the nice folks over in No. 6 are gonna put up a
bulletin saying 'We will begin the Hunt at so-and-so day
from this time until that time', you go on ahead and tell
everybody," Inukashi said. "If that's the only time the Hunt
is gonna occur, they can run. But you don't know, do ya?
You say you think it's in a day or two, but that's just your
hunch. It can happen in five minutes. It can happen in a
week. If a tip as unreliable as that was enough to make
people run away, they wouldn't be living here in the first
place. They have nowhere to run. They have nowhere else
they can live. That's why everyone's hanging onto this
place like their life depended on it."
While he spoke, Inukashi thought to himself that
Nezumi should know this already down to the marrow of
his bones.
On this earth, there were a precious few places that
satisfied all the conditions for human life. There were
probably no other places left, apart from the six
city-states. Although Inukashi didn't know this, No. 6 was
situated in a considerably more favourable environment
compared to the other five cities. People gathered here in
order to live. Leaving this place was synonymous to death.
The people sensed this, not from learned knowledge or
information, but from instinct.
They could not escape it. They had no place to escape
to. The Hunt occurred once every few years. If we're
lucky, we'll be spared. So let's stay here. That was the
only way.
Whether it was out of resignation or for survival, in
the end, everyone remained on this land. This was the
only place they could live. And that was why it was hell.
"I shouldn't even have to say this," Inukashi gave an
exaggerated huff. You're right, Nezumi muttered.
What the hell has gotten into him?
Is he scared about what's gonna happen?
Nezumi? Afraid?
 Inukashi found himself vigorously shaking his head
from side to side. His long hair flopped as it bounced
against his back.
Impossible. Inukashi 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 Inukashi saw the impressive skill with which he
wielded his knife, he wondered if Nezumi had perhaps
sent several people to the grave like this.
Inukashi 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. Inukashi 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 Inukashi'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?"
"Shion 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, Shion 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 Inukashi 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 Inukashi'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. Inukashi 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―
Shion?
Inukashi scowled, and sneezed softly.
"What did you say I was scared of?" Nezumi said.
"No―" Inukashi said nonchalantly.
He didn't quite know what kind of relationship Shion
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 Shion 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?
Inukashi 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 Inukashi 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.
Inukashi crouched down, and laid a hand on Nezumi's
shoulder.
"You hang in there. I'm gonna get Shion."
He was grabbed by the wrist. It was such a powerful
grip, Inukashi 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 Inukashi'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, Inukashi."
"W-Wait. You―you opened it?"
"Of course. One silver coin. I'm taking it to pay for
Shion's day of work. And the bag of crackers, too."
"The crackers too!?" Inukashi howled. "You must be
fucking kidding me."
"They're not stale or mouldy. Superb bag of crackers.
I'll have a splendid afternoon tea with these. Thanks."
Inukashi lunged at Nezumi, only to have the door shut
firmly in his face.
 He had buried an aged and emaciated dog.
Shion threw dirt over the grave, and placed upon it a
rock which Inukashi had chosen from the rubble as a
makeshift tombstone. He brought his palms together in
prayer. Several puppies sat at Shion'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 Inukashi?"
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."
Shion 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 Inukashi? 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," Shion said worriedly. "Hey, Nezumi."
"Hm?"
"About Inukashi... 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, Shion. 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 ass 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 Shion last time. Shion 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. Shion 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. Shion found himself
entranced by it.
"Eve!" Someone yelled from further down the alley.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
A small-framed man wearing a white shirt 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
Shion'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. Hell had materialized before
Shion'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. Shion 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.
"Shion!" He felt himself being knocked over. Nezumi's
body overlapped his own. As he was pushed against the
ground, Shion choked on his own breath. He could hear
Nezumi's voice at his ear.
"Shion, you alright?"
"Of course."
This was no time to fall unconscious. It had started.
Everything was starting now.
Nezumi drew away. Shion 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 bloody 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 God.
Damnit.
We're gonna get killed.
Run, run, run.
Ahh, ahh, ahh.
Voices clashed together in an unintelligible din. Shion
squatted down in the shadows of the ruined remains of a
wall, trying to avoid being caught up in the moving mass
of people. Less than a step away was the arm of the man
from the meat shop.
"Nezumi, is this―"
"Look." Shion'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 Shion.
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 Shion 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.
Shion 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 mass herded into the centre of
the marketplace. It was in the area where Shion 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..."
Shion 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 Shion whirled around,
his eyes met with a dog who was poking its head out of
the rubble. It was one of Inukashi's dogs―the one that had
delivered Shion his letter. Just the other day, Shion had
given him a caring and thorough wash as his way of
expressing his gratitude. It was a large, dark brown dog.
Shion 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 space 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," Shion 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 damned 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.
"Shit," Nezumi grimaced. "Shion, get down!"
"Huh?"
 "Hold your head and duck!"
Shion 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.
Shion 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. Shion 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, brimming with vitality. It was the colour
which Shion 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.
"Shion." Nezumi grabbed his arm. "Don't lose it."
Shion 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. Shion 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 --
***
CHAPTER 5
Into the Unknown Light

In the heavens, black clouds gathered

On the earth, blustering winds blew
For seven months and seven nights, the storm
clouds covered the sky
For nine months and nine nights, violent gusts
buffeted the land.
The waters of Yangtze swelled up to the top,
and river waters spread to every corner of the
land.

- Chinese myth - Creation Story of the Lisu

 [1]
Trans. Kimijima Hisako (Chikuma Shobo)

"Ma'am, can I have some muffins, please?" Lili came

bursting into the store.
"Huh?" She stopped abruptly, and blinked quizzically,
still clenching the coins in her fist. Karan couldn't help but
smile at how adorable she was.
"You're here again, Uncle?"
Yoming smiled wryly at his niece's frank attitude.
"Lili, I'm here to do my job. You understand, right?"
"What job?"
"You know Ms. Karan's muffins, the ones you love so
much? I'm going to write a feature on them. An impressive
job, don't you think?"
"What's a feature gonna do?"
"It'll make the muffins famous. Ms. Karan will have lots
and lots of customers."
"I don't want that," Lili said, puffing out her cheeks
sulkily as she glared at her uncle. "If everyone buys her
muffins, there won't be any left for me."
"Don't worry," Karan said as she took two muffins out
of the display case. "You're my important customer. I'll
always set aside some for you. Cheese and raisin, one of
each. The raisin one is a present from me."
"Really? Thank you," Lili glowed. "Can I eat it now?"
 "Sure you can," Karan said. "It's right about tea time,
anyway. Why don't we make some hot cocoa for Lili,
hmm?"
"Yay! You're the best," Lili grinned.
How lovable she is.
Karan's heart warmed. It always happened when she
saw children smile. A warm, gentle feeling rose up inside
her heart each time.
As a resident of Lost Town, an older district of No. 6,
Lili was certainly not in the most plentiful of
environments. In a city like this, where elites sat at the
pinnacle and a complete hierarchy ruled, no matter how
hard Lili tried, she would never be able to climb to the
upper echelons. Lost Town was a residential district for
people who sat at the bottom of the hierarchy. Among
adults, there were many people who showed listlessness
or angry abandon at their defeat, but children were not
infected by this. They raced down alleyways, laughed at
the smallest things, and set their eyes aglow at tasty
foods. Perhaps this was an easier place to live for them
compared to Chronos, where they would be placed under
strict management and thorough instruction.
I want them to be happy.
Karan thought in her heart while she gazed at Lili's
carefree smile.
I want the children, at least, to be happy.
 But what should I do so that they can? As an adult,
what am I able to do? I can't even save my only son, or
even the girl that loved him―
"Karan, what's the matter?"
Yoming lifted his face from photographing the muffins
and croissants.
"Oh, no, I was just―"
"Were you thinking about your son?"
"I guess you can say that... But I'm always thinking
about Shion," Karan said. "I haven't forgotten about him
for a single second. He appeared in my dreams last night,
too."
"Of course," Yoming said softly. "Of course―you're a
mother. I'm sorry, that was inconsiderate of me."
Karan turned to face Yoming, and shook her head
firmly.
"He looked very well."
"What?"
"My son. He was smiling. He looked a little thinner, but
he had such a nice smile on his face. I thought, my, this
boy must be happy. I was happy, too. Even my heart felt a
little lighter when I woke up."
"Happy, huh," Yoming said thoughtfully. "Karan,
whatever state he's in, your son is out there alive. That's
for sure."
 "And I'm grateful for it."
As long as you're alive, I won't ask for anything more.
Shion, live―and come back to me once more.
She placed a cup of cocoa down in front of Lili, and a
cup of coffee in front of Yoming.
"Huh? Are you eating too, Uncle?" Lili asked sternly.
"Don't you think you're overstaying your welcome?"
Yoming choked on his coffee. Karan burst out laughing.
"Both you and your uncle are my special customers. It's
on the house," she reassured her.
"Okay," Lili replied, somewhat unconvinced. "You know,
Mommy thinks Uncle Yo might be making moves on you,
ma'am. What's 'making moves' mean?"
"Oh dear," Karan said with a smile.
Yoming broke into a fit of coughing.
"Th-That's absurd," he sputtered. "Tell Renka―tell your
mother, that Uncle Yo was very, very angry about that."
"I don't think Mommy's gonna be scared of you even if
you get mad," Lili said boldly. "You won't get dinner next
time you come to our house, Uncle."
Karan was so amused by the sour expression on
Yoming's face that she knelt down behind the display case
to succumb to laughter. As she laughed, she remembered
what Yoming was saying to her before Lili came in.
 Karan, do you think we ought to keep on being this
way?
That was how Yoming had started the conversation.
Do you think this city, No. 6, should keep being the
way it is? You might not know much, but you do know
enough. You know that this place is built on lies.
Yes, I know.
Both you and I have had our sons stolen from us. You
still have hope, but my son will never come back again.
Nor my wife. This city eats people up like a demon.
Yes.
Karan. Don't you think we can change this place?
Pardon me?
Don't you think we could change the Holy City so it
can be reborn again into a place of human beings?
Us... change...?
Not only the two of us. There are others who have
realized the true nature of the Holy City. We're―
That was when Lili had come bursting in.
Karan lapsed into thought.
Instead of just waiting, just praying, or just crying the
days away, what can I do to embrace Shion again? What
can I do to save Safu?
Cheep-cheep.
 There was a small squeak. A cry she had long awaited.
A small mouse was curled up under the display case. Its
long tail and grape-coloured eyes shone in Karan's vision
like diamonds. In the long hours after Shion had
disappeared, what strong support this tiny creature had
given her at times when she felt like she would be washed
away by her despair, loneliness, and hopelessness.
She gently placed a morsel of cheese muffin on the
floor.
Thank you. Thank you so much.
"You came again."
A pea-sized capsule dropped into her outstretched
palm. It was a letter from Shion. She had been told at the
beginning that if anything out-of-place happened, a black
mouse would come to notify her. It was a brown mouse
this time, like the last. Shion was still safe. He was still
alive. Perhaps he was even breaking out into joyous
laughter now and then.
Shion.
She spread open the contents of the capsule with
trembling fingers. It was a folded scrap of paper. On it was
just a single line.
 That was all it said. It was Shion's writing, without a
doubt. It was his letter, which she had long hoped for. But
a sense of unease rippled through Karan's heart. This―
Mom, thank you. I'll love you always.
These were almost like words of farewell. Like a last
kiss, a last embrace, the last words.
Mom, thank you. I'll love you always.
Goodbye.
The last unwritten line swirled inside her head.
She stood up. She felt faint. The ceiling, the floor, was
spinning.
"Karan!"
"Ma'am!"
She heard Yoming and Lili calling her from far away.
Shion, wait.
She reached out and yelled.
Where are you going? What do you plan to do? Don't
tell me―Don't say you're―
The Correctional Facility.
She couldn't stop shaking. Karan was seized by the
horror of what her actions had brought about.
She had told him about Safu. Shion was intending to
help her escape. He was the kind of boy who would do
something like that. It was something Karan would have
known he would do. She should have known more than
anyone else.
Her ego as a mother emerged fully exposed.
I shouldn't have told him. Out of all people, I should
never have told Shion.
No, Shion. You can't go. You can't be the one that dies.
Wait, wait.
She fell to her knees. In front of her was a small
mouse. It was holding the muffin morsel in both paws, and
nibbling at it.
Nezumi―
Uncertainty weighed heavily upon her chest, and her
heart felt like it was being wrung.
Where are you? Are you by his side? If you are, then
please don't leave him. I'm begging you. Protect him.
Protect him.
Nezumi!

The air was thick with the stench of blood, refuse, and
sweat. The people had been crowded into a windowless
cargo container, squeezed so much they could barely
move, and they were gasping amidst the stench of blood,
refuse, and sweat. He couldn't breathe. It was hot and
humid in this confined space, and there was no light. It
was like they were not even permitted to breathe.
 Beside Shion, a man entering his senior years gave a
short gasp. After several sharp breaths, his head lolled
forward. Shion could feel the man's body begin to convulse
repeatedly through his own shoulder, which was pushed up
against him. Shion managed to squirm enough to get his
hand free and place it on the man's mouth.
"Nezumi," he said.
"What?"
"This man―he just died."
"I see," Nezumi responded flatly. "Did he have a heart
attack or something?"
"It might be."
"I see. Well, if he was able to go quickly, maybe it was
all the more lucky for him."
Maybe it was luckier to be able to die here, rather
than not being able to die here. Nezumi's words weren't
sarcastic or joking. It was probably the truth.
As Shion withstood the weight of the deceased man,
he thought about the baby―the small baby he had left
along with a dog in the shadows of the rubble. Would the
baby survive?
"Inukashi's probably in a rage right about now." A smile
spread thinly across Nezumi's lips.
"Huh?"
 "He'd be flying off the handle because you dumped
that baby into his care. I can just imagine him holding that
wailing baby in his arms and cursing you to high heaven."
"He'd take care of the baby somehow, wouldn't he?"
"Who knows? It's probably already taking everything
he's got to take care of himself and his dogs. Though he
probably won't go as far as to feed the baby to them."
"Inukashi's kind," Shion said firmly. "He wouldn't
abandon a helpless baby."
"Wouldn't he, now?"
"He wouldn't, because he's been raised by a
compassionate mother."
"I see. So you're taking advantage of his compassion
and kindness to dump that baby on him, huh?"
"Oh―well, I guess if you put it that way, I have. I didn't
realize."
"It might be hard to imagine for Little Mr. Naive, but
it's tough. Babies and puppies are different. Humans take
ten times more hassle. Poor Inukashi, he has to cut back
on his own food income to care for someone else's baby."
"I'll apologize," Shion said simply.
"What?"
"I'll apologize next time I see him."
If you ever do, Nezumi muttered as he shrugged his
shoulders.
 "But how could you tell?" Shion asked. "How did you
know I was thinking about the baby?"
"We've been together long enough to get sick of each
other. I can tell most of the time. You're pretty easy to
read, and―no―" Nezumi cut off abruptly, and touched his
neck. That's not it, he muttered. "I can't read you at all."
Suddenly, they heard muffled sobbing from
somewhere. It was a feeble voice, belonging to a woman.
"Oh... oh... oh..."
As if dragged along by her weeping, there came an
eruption of sobbing from all over. Some belonged to
women, others to men. No one was strong enough to raise
their voice in an anguished cry. Seized by despair,
exhaustion, and fear, they could only weep softly, in a
voice that was barely audible.
As he squatted on the floor hugging his knees, Shion
felt the tearful sniffling of the people soaking into his
body.
Oh, oh, oh...
Oh, oh, oh...
He wanted to cover his ears, but he knew he could
not. Even if he did, it would come seeping in through his
skin. It would seep in through his nostrils, the tips of his
hair.
Oh, oh, oh...
Oh, oh, oh...
 Nezumi lifted his chin, and shifted his body slightly.
A song rang out. It was a song Shion had never heard
before.
On the mountaintop far away, the snows are
melting
Becoming the stream that colours green in the
beech wood
The fields are now brimming with blossoms
And a maiden more beautiful than they
Makes a vow of love in the beech wood
O youth
Wet your feet in the green waters
And gallop to me like a deer
Before the blossoms fall, come and kiss the
maiden's hair

It was a strange voice. Inukashi had once said that his

song was like the wind, and that it stole the soul away like
a wind scattering flower petals. He was right―Shion could
feel his heart being enveloped by the song, and his soul
being beckoned away. In this hopeless space without a ray
of light, for just an instant, flowers bloomed, water
babbled, and the lovers glowed.
The sobbing ceased. The people were enchanted by
the song.
Here, in this hellish place, they had heard a beautiful
song. It was like they had encountered a miracle. And it
meant that these things could happen. Even if we've been
cast down into the pits of hell, it doesn't mean we've been
torn away whole from beautiful things.
Nezumi caught his breath, and gave a dry cough.
"That was a stretch. There's just not enough air in
here. My voice won't last."
"That's more than enough," Shion reassured him. "It's
amazing... I don't know how to describe it... this is my
first time hearing you sing."
"Well, the acoustics here aren't the greatest. There's
no orchestra, and no spotlight. On the stage it would look
a little better."
"I'd love to hear it."
"Then let me extend you an invitation. Box seats, the
best in the house. You should bring Inukashi and his baby
too."
"I will. I bet even a crying baby would quiet down
after hearing you sing."
"Shion, I was kidding," Nezumi said flatly. "Don't take it
seriously."
"Eve." Someone raised his voice in the darkness. "Sing
for us, Eve. Don't stop singing."
"Yeah, Eve. Sing for us."
Shion touched Nezumi's shoulder.
"Everyone wants to hear your song."
"I'm being put through slave labour now, am I?"
 "You can save people with your singing. Nezumi, you're
amazing." Even Shion himself knew how inept his words of
praise sounded. He was embarrassed. But he did mean
what he said.
Nezumi, you're amazing.
"Shion, you can't save people with songs or tales,"
Nezumi said coldly. "It'll make them forget their suffering
for a little while. But that's about all it can do. They can't
save people in any of the real sense of the word."
"Eve, sing us 'All the Shimmering Things'," a woman's
voice pleaded.
"Geez," Nezumi muttered. "If the Manager finds out
I've got fans even in a place like this, he'd probably burst
into tears of joy."
Sing for us, Eve. In this moment, give us your song.
The truck slackened its speed just a little.
"We've passed through the gates," Nezumi muttered, in
a voice low enough that only Shion could hear. Then he
began to sing softly again. This song had a loping tempo,
with a touch of melancholy.
The pearls at the bottom of the sea
The stars winking in the night sky
And the love that rests in my heart
All the shimmering things I surrender to you
The sea grows stormy―the pearls disappear
The sky grows stormy―the stars disappear
But my love will never change
 Through generations of time
Things that shimmer for eternity are just
The truck stopped. The song cut off abruptly, and
atmosphere in the cargo container froze over again.
"Shion, you hear me?" Nezumi whispered quietly. His
voice was heavy now, completely different from when he
was singing. "No matter what happens, don't get separated
from me."
Shion nodded. He clenched his fists.
No matter what happens, I'll never leave you.
The truck doors opened.
"Get off the truck."
The crowd swarmed off the truck as they were told.
Shion followed the throng. Nezumi nudged him in the ribs.
"That's the Correctional Facility. The place thy breast
hath ached longingly for."
Shion swallowed. He swallowed, and stared at the
building before him. It was a building of white walls. This
piece of architecture, almost devoid of any
embellishments and clearly designed to prioritize
efficiency, was something Shion was used to seeing in No.
6.
Apart from the fact that it had very few windows, this
building looked perfectly normal. Its height was about the
same as that of the Moondrop, and four wings about two
storeys high protruded from it in different directions, like
arms. The protrusions were perhaps unusual, but not
something that gave off an oppressive or foreboding air.
Shion had expected something more hideous. He had
believed it to be something so hideous, he would not be
able to lay his eyes on it.
The Correctional Facility, which was coloured crimson
in the rays of the setting sun, could easily pass as a
medical building. It appeared a sterile and functional
place to the eye.
It was far from what he had imagined.
This was the Correctional Facility―and this was where
Safu was.
"This would be the back of the building," Nezumi said.
"The front doesn't look much different, though. So, how is
it? Looks a lot more decent than you imagined, doesn't it?"
"A lot more decent," Shion agreed. "It almost looks like
a normal building."
"Yup. But maybe 'normal' is the scariest thing about it."
"Walk forward."
The mob lurched forward. The line fell slightly out of
array few metres ahead of Shion. Someone had collapsed.
A soldier approached, and dragged the person away from
the line. It was an old woman wrapped in a tattered
shawl. She was thrown out onto the ground like a rag doll.
"Nezumi, what's gonna happen to her?"
 "Don't worry yourself with other people's problems.
Even if you knew what would happen, it's not like you'd be
able to do anything."
Another person fell. It was a young woman. Her
clothes were torn, and she buckled to her knees, with her
arms covering her bare breasts. One of the soldiers out of
the evenly-spaced line dragged her out promptly. The
same thing was occurring both behind and in front of
Shion.
Are they sorting us?
Saliva welled up inside his mouth.
They put us in a confined space, so crowded we
couldn't breathe; put us through confusion, despair,
terror... but even after that brutal experience, now
they're selecting those who can still manage to walk in a
straight line?
"Yeah," Nezumi nodded. "They're sorting us. They're
disposing of the ones who've gotten weak or died during
the transport."
"What's the sorting for?"
"I don't know. I still don't know what they're planning
to use us for."
"Funny you wouldn't know, huh, even though you seem
to know everything I'm thinking about."
 "Heavens," Nezumi exclaimed in mock surprise. "To
think you can still be sarcastic in these conditions! That's
quite something. Worthy of praise, my boy."
"I was trained by you―I've toughened up."
"But the real sorting is only starting."
"Just starting, huh..."
They trudged in the blustering wind. In that time,
several people collapsed, and were removed from the
line.
Among them were those who lay still, those who shook
in the cold, and those groaning in pain. Without
exception, they were all dragged out and herded into one
spot.
What's going to happen to them? What's going to
happen, what's going to happen? I don't know. Even if I
did, there would be nothing I could do to help it.
His emotions began to grow numb, starting from the
extremities. He was getting used to atrocity. He was
becoming unperceptive to brutal murder. His thoughts
slowed and became sluggish. The death of others no
longer fazed him.
Shion reached out and grabbed Nezumi's arm. He
made sure he could feel the body of flesh at his fingertips.
Nezumi, keep me as the human I am.
"There's a chance―" Nezumi dropped his gaze. "―that
you might change."
 "Huh?"
"Here―in this Correctional Facility, you might change."
"What're you talking about?"
"Maybe the time will come when I'll finally realize―I
never knew a thing about you."
"Nezumi, what are you saying?"
Nezumi clamped his mouth shut, and fell silent.
The people were ordered to stop in front of a set of
black doors.
"Begin entering, starting with the ones at the front.
Do not make any noise."
The line was divided into three groups, and the first
group disappeared beyond the other side of the door.
There was not a sound. A few minutes later, the door
opened again.
"Next."
It was Shion and his group's turn.
We're going in there?
Into the interior of the Correctional Facility.
He had steeled himself. He had already made the
decision. But he could not help shrinking back a little. His
heart was expanding so much, he felt like it would burst
through his pectoral muscles.
 "This was the only way," Nezumi said softly, his gaze
staring steadily ahead. "This was the only way we had,
Shion."
"Nezumi..."
"Let's go."
"Yeah."
A gust of wind blew past them. The doors swung open
on each side.
"Eve," someone yelled suddenly from somewhere
behind. "A song for us. A song―"
A soldier wordlessly fired his gun. There was the heavy
thud of a body crumpling on the ground. The voice was
cut off mid-scream, and the roar of the wind grew
stronger.
Damnit.
Nezumi's lips moved to form the words.
Damnit. Someday, someday surely I'll―
"Move forward."
Beyond the door was a world of darkness.
It was too dark to decipher how large the space was.
Like the cargo container, they were squeezed in well past
the capacity of people it could hold.
The doors closed.
 Lurch. The whole room began to shake. And it began
to move. They were moving down at a considerable speed.
"An elevator, huh." The floorplan of the Correctional
Facility emerged in Shion's mind. The blank space
underground. This is it. We're moving down into that
place.
They were descending. Descending. It was like they
were falling into the abyss.
Nezumi's arm slid around his waist.
"Hold onto me. No matter what happens, never let
go."
"Nezumi, what―"
"We're going to hell together."
The arm around his waist grew tighter.
"But we're coming back alive. Don't forget that, Shion."
"Of course."
The elevator stopped. The darkness wavered.
"We're gonna fall."
Nezumi's voice echoed into a world cloaked in
darkness.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
***
I can't... see.... Don't... come... near me....
CHAPTER 1
A Prayer Yonder

Good fortune, then,

To make me blest, or cursed'st among men!
- The Merchant of Venice Act II Scene I [1]

Shion.
She tried to call to him. But her voice would not come
out. Her tongue would not move. Her arms and legs were
heavy as if they had been bound in shackles, and she could
not get them free. Shion didn't turn around. His back, clad
in a white shirt, moved further and further away. Around
them was darkness. An inky black darkness spread out all
around. There was not even the smallest ray of light.
Shion, wait. You can't go.
Turn around. Come back home. Don't go any further.
The darkness shifted. It bristled slimily and reared like
something alive, and swallowed the retreating white back
whole.
Shion!
A shriek tore through her throat. Terror turned into
vicious pain as it raced through her whole body. She tried
to leap into the darkness after Shion, but her body would
still not move. She couldn't take a single step forward.
Someone―someone help me. Stop him.
 "Karan."
"Ma'am!"
She heard voices. Someone was holding her hand. She
was shaken lightly.
"Karan, can you hear me? Can you hear my voice?"
"Ma'am, wake up!"
The voices had strength. The darkness was brushed
away from her eyes, and her vision lightened into a dim
haze.
Oh―I hear you. I do hear you.
Karan opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry, like
there was a veil being draped over it. Two hazy faces―one
of a tan man and one of a girl―were peering into her face.
But they were fleeting. She felt like if she blinked, they
would ripple and shimmer, and disappear.
She could smell bread. Butter rolls, with ample butter
kneaded into the dough. Come evening, Lost Town
residents would flock to Karan's bakery for her affordable
and delicious breads: labourers, after a long day's toil;
hungry students; children with loose change in their
fists―for these poor customers, she had set the oven to
finish baking at 5 o'clock sharp. It looked like the outdated
oven had functioned properly―the dozen or so butter rolls
were finished and ready.
 For Karan, the aroma of baking bread was the aroma
of life itself. The savoury smell, now long familiar to her
nose, yanked Karan energetically back into the real world.
The veil was thrown off. The outline of two faces flew
clearly into her vision.
"Lili... Yoming..."
"Looks like you've come to," Yoming heaved a relieved
sigh. Thank goodness, his lips moved. "Can you get up? You
don't have to force yourself."
"Yes―I'm... I'm fine."
Yoming supported her while she raised her upper body.
She had been lying on an old sofa in a corner of her
workspace.
"I... went unconscious..."
"Yeah," Yoming said. "Behind the display case there,
you just kind of crumpled to the ground. I was so startled.
My heart's still going a mile a minute."
Yoming flashed a relieved smile. Karan tried to smile
back, but her cheeks were stiff, and didn't move the way
she wanted them to.
"Ma'am!" Lili threw herself at Karan and clung to her
neck. Her eyes were brimming with tears. "Ma'am, you're
okay, right? You're okay now?"
Lili pressed her cheek against Karan's neck. It was wet.
The arms that clung to her were trembling as well. The
little girl's tears were warm. They were almost hot.
Normally she would gently embrace the little girl, but
Karan's arms would still not move as she wanted them to.
They were still heavy, and she felt like she was still
clawing about in her dream.
Shion.
She wanted to tear her hair out. She felt like she
would go insane. Right this moment, what if Shion was
heading to a place where his mother's hands could never
reach? What if he was descending into the depths of hell?
If he is, if that's really happening, what am I to do?
What should I...
"Oh!" Lili gasped softly, and drew away from Karan.
"They're little mousies!"
A little brown mouse was sitting on the spice shelf.
Another grey one poked its furry face out from beside it.
"Hey, there's two." Lili raised two fingers. Were they
siblings? The two mice blinked their very similar
grape-coloured eyes, and huddled together.
One had brought her Shion's letter. But what about the
other one?
"Lili, can you bring me a tiny piece of cheese from the
fridge? It's in the bottommost drawer."
"Okay."
Karan extended her hand up to the mice on the shelf,
gently, but with as much strength as she could. The tips of
her fingers trembled. The two mice looked at each other,
and busily twitched their whiskers.
Cheep-cheep.
One of them encouraged the other, and the
encouraged one turned to face Karan. It had such small
eyes, but they were eyes that showed intelligence. These
mice possessed intellect. They could understand human
language and emotions.
Karan reached out further. She turned her palm
upwards.
Cheep. Cheep.
The grey one slipped forward. Without a minute of
hesitation, it jumped down onto her palm. It shook its
head side-to-side, and spat a small capsule out of its
mouth. It was her second letter today.
"Ma'am, are you gonna give the cheese to the
mousies?"
Karan nodded at Lili, and opened the capsule. It
wasn't Shion's writing. But she remembered seeing it
before. It was the writing that had extended a hand to
Karan and pulled her up when she had been wallowing in
the depths of despair, after Shion was taken away by the
Security Bureau. It was the beautiful, flowing hand that
showed its owner's intelligence and resilient will. She
could never forget this writing.
 The short sentence didn't even add up to a tenth of his
last note, but Karan was able to heave a sigh of relief. A
cool, soothing breeze blew through her body. The
obstruction in her chest, her airway, cleared somewhat.
Oh, I can breathe.
It was too early to despair. She could not lose hope
yet.
"Nezumi..." She found herself saying his name out
loud. For an instant, she felt like someone had put an arm
around her shoulders. Although she couldn't see it, she
could feel strong and supple arms supporting her.
Reunion will come. Whatever happens, I will bring
Shion back to you alive. This I promise.
She could hear a low voice whisper at her ear. She
breathed deeply again.
Nezumi was there. Always, at any time, he would be
by Shion's side. Her boy was not alone.
"Karan, what's that?"
Yoming was peering into Karan's hand.
"A letter."
"Letter? Do the mice deliver the post where you live?"
 "They do," she smiled. "And it's handwritten, too. Isn't
it so much more delightful than electronic mail?"
Now she could smile. Yoming and Lili looked at each
other, and the corners of their mouths turned up as well.
Lili, who was breaking the cheese and feeding it to the
two mice, came up to Karan and buried her cheek into
Karan's bosom. This time, Karan could finally put her arms
around her properly.
"I was scared," Lili mumbled tearfully. "I was scared
that... you wouldn't move at all anymore... like Daddy... I
was scared. Really scared."
"Daddy? Did something happen to your Daddy, Lili?"
"My Daddy before. My real Daddy."
"What?"
Yoming shook his head slightly.
"Lili's current father is Renka's second husband―she
remarried."
"So Getsuyaku-san is..." Karan trailed off. "―I see."
She conjured to mind the long, thin face with drooping
eyebrows. Now that Yoming had mentioned it, she realized
he and Lili were not alike at all in facial structure or body
type. But she never felt anything strange about seeing
them walking hand-in-hand, or coming to buy bread
together. They were a happy family, father and daughter
who truly got along. After Shion had disappeared, she felt
a twinge of pain in her heart at times when she saw
Getsuyaku and Lili together. She was both saddened and
envious.
"Then Lili's father..."
"He passed away a few years back."
"A little before you moved in here, ma'am," Lili chimed
in. "But you know, I love my new Daddy too. He's really
funny. He always makes me laugh."
Lili lifted her chin, and a grin spread across her face.
It was a bright smile of relief as she confirmed that Karan
could speak properly, feeble though it was.
"I never knew. Renka never mentioned anything."
"She probably didn't want to," Yoming said. "They're
painful memories for her."
The words had probably slipped without him knowing.
Yoming gave a deep sigh. Lili began to speak.
"One day when we were eating together, Daddy
stopped moving. He said, 'I can't breathe' and fell out of
his chair. And I don't know why, but he stopped moving
after that."
Lili's body began to shake, as memories of her younger
days began to come back to her. Karan slid her gaze to
Yoming. She questioned him with her eyes.
What is this about?
"Lili's father―died, before her eyes," Yoming said
hesitantly, casting his eyelashes down. "No," he then said
momentarily. "He was murdered."
 "Murdered!"
The frightful word overlapped with the image of
Shion's retreating back. Karan found herself clenching her
fists so hard that her nails were digging into her palms.
"Lili's father―his name was Suifu―was a construction
worker, and a giant of a man who was proud of his
strength, and rightly too," Yoming said.
"Mommy says he was really kind, strong, and cool. He
was really in love with Mommy, right?"
Yoming smiled wryly.
"I think Renka's prettying it up a bit too much, even for
a story to tell her daughter. Suifu was a big drinker and a
loose spender, so they were always getting into fights.
But, well, he was a nice guy, and worked hard for his
family. He was a boisterous one, and liked to sing. When
he'd get drunk, he'd always sing in that booming voice.
Yeah," he nodded. "He was a good guy. He certainly did
love his family very much."
"But he was... killed?"
"Indirectly."
"Indirectly..." Karan repeated. "Yoming, will you
explain in a way I can understand?"
Yoming drew up a battered chair, and sat down. With
his right hand, he gently stroked Lili's hair. It was a gesture
that showed how much Yoming cared for and cherished his
niece.
 "Explain so you understand, huh... if only it was as
easy as that. There are so many things I still don't know,
that it's hard to even tell in proper sequence."
Yoming always spoke in a muddled way, and often
ended his sentences awkwardly. But nevertheless, he
groped for the right words, and began to weave the story
in fragments.
"Suifu, back then, was involved in the construction of
a certain building. He was a construction worker."
"A certain building..."
"Yeah. But we still don't know what building it was. I
heard even Suifu didn't have an idea what it was. He used
to be taken to the construction site in a windowless
van―he couldn't see anything outside."
"Then to silence him―?"
"No, Karan, that couldn't be it. Suifu took his assigned
job seriously, but he wasn't interested at all in what he
was building. He didn't care which part of the city this
building was in, or what it was going to be used for. Even
if he was interested, it wasn't a kind of secret that a
construction worker could sniff out. It was put under
skilful concealment. Right after Suifu died, I did some
footwork of my own trying to find out where this
brother-in-law of mine used to work, but to no avail. Open
disclosure doesn't exist in a city like this. If the authorities
wanted it concealed, there would be nothing we citizens
could do against it, anyway. There shouldn't have been any
need to go as far to kill Suifu to hide a secret."
 "Then... what did he die of?"
"Outwardly they're saying it was a heart attack. But I
can't bring myself to believe that Suifu could have had
one. It's as likely as a duck drowning in a pond."
"So it must mean there's something else to it."
"Yeah..." Yoming sealed his lips gravely, and cast his
gaze around the room.
"It's alright," Karan reassured. "We're not being
tapped."
"Is that so." Yoming paused. "I'm sorry," he said
abruptly, "being all furtive like this. It's shameful."
"No, not at all."
Were they really free from tapping devices? Frankly,
Karan wasn't completely sure. The authorities possessed
enormous power. They could do anything if they wished
to. It should be no large feat for them to tap all citizens'
conversations and manage that information.
But even so.
Karan grasped the memo tightly in her hand.
She would accomplish nothing if she kept shrinking
back from fear. Instead of being afraid, sealing my lips,
plugging my ears―let me speak, let me listen. She would
say it out loud; she would tilt an ear to listen. To her it
seemed like it was the only option left.
Karan leaned forward determinedly to the man and his
roundabout words.
 "And this 'something else' that you were talking about?"
Yoming blinked just once. Then, he stared straight into
Karan's eyes.
"All of this is speculation. But if I tell you, I might end
up loading you down with a burden."
"I want to hear about it, and this is from my own will."
She tried spurring Yoming on.
"You went and you investigated your own side of the
truth. You said you barely know anything, but knowing
you, you've probably at least gotten a clue. You've grasped
something, haven't you? A hint―it might be thinner than a
thread, but something to lead you to the truth?"
"You've expected too much from me," Yoming said
heavily. "I didn't have the power, courage, or method to do
any of that... but I can say that the pay that Suifu
received while he was working at that site was quite,
quite high. I heard it was double that of how much he
usually gets. Renka was surprised when she heard Suifu
was getting 'special danger compensation'. It's hard to
imagine a construction site with danger risk in a place like
No. 6."
"Special danger compensation..." Karan pondered. "For
tearing something down, or blowing it up..."
"Or handling chemicals."
"Chemicals―you mean poison?"
 "Or the equivalent. Something unknown: something
even the scientists of No. 6 wouldn't know the proper
method of handling."
"I can't imagine anything that would fit."
"It's hard to. There's just not enough information."
"But Lili's father wasn't the only one working at the
site, was he?" Karan persisted. "Wouldn't we be able to
find out more if we asked those other people too?"
"That's the thing; I can't find any of them."
"You can't find them?"
"Yeah. They're missing―or maybe they didn't exist in
the first place. In other words, there were no other
humans involved in the construction other than Suifu."
"No other humans... oh, then do you mean robots―"
"Yes. Robots. They were using construction robots."
Karan lifted her face, and gazed at the ceiling without
really seeing it. Shion used to operate robots, too. They
were cleaning robots for the park.
"They're really cute, but functionality-wise they've still
got some ways to go. Like just the other day: a lady had
her hat blown away by the wind, and the robot picked it
up, which was perfectly fine. But the robot couldn't
control its grip, and ended up squashing the hat. The lady
was furious, can you imagine? So I think humans are still
better with small and delicate tasks. Human fingers are
really amazing, you know."
 And he would wiggle his fingers lightly....
Karan screwed her eyes shut to forcefully scatter the
memories of her son from her mind. She spoke in the
calmest voice she could muster.
"Lili's father must have been doing a job that robots
couldn't do."
"Probably," Yoming conceded. "But Suifu wasn't a
technician. He didn't have any special technical skill. I
mean, being the serious guy he is deep-down, I'm sure he
would have done a thorough job with anything that was
given to him, but... I can't imagine what he could have
been doing amongst those robots."
"Fingertips?"
"Huh?"
"The difference between humans and task robots."
Shion's fingertips fluttered in her memories. They
were deft fingertips. They always skilfully performed the
delicate work she asked him to do. Once in a while, she
even found herself gazing in admiration at their dexterity.
You know mom, human fingers are really amazing.
"Robots might be more useful for things like tearing
down walls, or carrying heavy things, but with smaller
tasks that require more care... for example, let's see...
using small tiles to make a complicated pattern on the
wall, or engraving letters into a pillar... robots still can't
do that, right? It's the same with bread. If you want to
make bread that tastes the same and looks the same, a
machine would be enough. But celebration cakes, for
example―where it's important for them to look nice, and
to match that person's taste―you'd have to make them by
hand if you wanted something good."
"But Suifu couldn't bake bread or cakes like you can.
He didn't have the skill to make patterns with tiles, or
engrave lettering. He really couldn't do anything special...
or at least, I don't think so."
"How about carrying things?"
"Carrying things?"
"Yes, important things... like fragile items, or soft
things... things that have to keep their shape, like a hat.
Human hands would be more suited for things like that."
"You're right. That might be it. Maybe Suifu was
carrying some highly-dangerous something-or-other, that
couldn't be left to robots. But... even if that was true, I
have no idea what that might be, or how it could relate to
those sudden deaths. No matter how much I rack my
brains, I can never get out of the range of speculation. In
the end, with nothing to work with, we can only keep
asking the same questions that will never have answers.
We don't know anything for sure... all we know is that
Suifu was involved in city construction work, and that he
died. That's it. Right, Karan?"
Yoming's tone of voice grew more leaden by the
second, and dropped so low she could barely hear him.
 "This city devours people ruthlessly," Yoming growled.
"Sometimes I can't help but think so. It devours people
that have fallen out of the boundaries of the city's values;
people whom they've deemed inferior to their values;
people who have objected against their values. They
devour them head-first, ripping them, strewing the bits,
until they throw them away."
"Mm..." Karan answered vaguely.
"So in the end, a place like this, Lost Town, is like a
cesspit for the city: it's a gathering-place for people who
have fallen out of the city's criteria of value, inferior
humans. No, they probably deliberately made it this kind
of gathering-place. It's a warehouse of disposable people."
Karan felt an onset of shivers at Yoming's heavy, low
voice, as well as the words that were coming out of his
mouth. She stole a glance at Lili. Apparently weary of the
adults' conversation, the little girl had moved some paces
away to play with the two mice. The brown and grey mice
were in Lili's lap, stuffing their cheeks with morsels of
cheese. Whether human or some other animal, small
beings were always adorable. It was the adult's job to
protect these small and fragile bodies and minds, with
whatever it took.
That was what Karan believed. She didn't want to
thrust the terror of reality on Lili, still so young. Yes, one
could not be blinded. One must not be tricked. One had to
be able see through the deceit and find real truth. But this
hardened will was something to be born by adults who
were old enough to withstand 'knowing'. Lili was still much
too young.
"Lili."
The little girl turned towards Karan's voice with her
large, black eyes.
"I don't think the cheese is enough to make those little
mousies full. I think there's a butter roll from yesterday
left in a corner of the display case. Will you give them half
each?"
"You can give bread to mousies?"
"Yes. Will you give it to them as a reward? And could I
ask you to watch the store, too? If a customer comes in, I
want you to give them a nice greeting, and say,
'welcome!'. I promise I'll treat you to freshly-baked butter
rolls later."
"Yay! You know, I've always wanted to do a baker's
job."
The mice were now perched on Lili's shoulder,
evidently having become close friends with her. They were
a pair of smart mice: they could tell which humans were
dangerous, and which ones could be trusted.
"Ma'am, you know what?" Lili stood on her toes and
brought her lips to Karan's ear. "I'm gonna tell you a
secret."
"Alright, what is it?"
 "Mommy's gonna have a baby. I'm going to be a big
sister."
"Oh my, Renka? That's fantastic. When?"
"When it gets warm, and lots of flowers start to
bloom."
Yoming gave an exasperated smile.
"Hey, Lili, are you sure it was okay to just reveal
Mommy's secret like that?"
"Ma'am's allowed to know."
"I'm so glad," Karan said warmly. "Thank you for telling
me. When the baby is born, we'll have to celebrate with a
giant cake. Alright, Lili, you'll watch the store for me,
right?"
"Yeah. I say 'welcome!' right? 'Welcome!'" With the
mice sitting on her shoulder, Lili left the room and made
for the bakery counter. Yoming gave yet another sigh.
"Right. I guess it's something we wouldn't want Lili to
hear."
"Of course. To hear that your own father was treated
like an object, and that he lost his life as a result... even
if she were to find out eventually, right now is too early."
Yoming slowly lifted his gaze from the exit into which
Lili had disappeared, and rested it back on Karan.
"Treated like an object―yes, Suifu was given the same
treatment as the robots. He wouldn't have been told how
risky that job was. They must have glossed it over with
something vague, and dangled high wages under his nose.
Suifu wanted money. It was still only a short time after
he'd been fired from his former workplace for getting into
a disagreement with a colleague. If it was to support his
family, he would have been prepared to risk a few things
to get a job. The authorities researched all of that, of
course, and chose Suifu for that reason. After all, they've
got complete access to citizen information. It was
probably a piece of cake for them to pick a suitable
candidate. They needed someone to handle a job with
unknown dangers; someone who was used to heavy lifting;
someone who was responsible, and worked silently and
efficiently. A man without curiosity, inquisitiveness, or a
sense of suspicion. Someone who wouldn't mind risking
danger for money―Suifu was probably the perfect choice."
"So that's why his job and his sudden death must be
related somehow. You're sure of that."
"Yeah. I don't know how in the world they could be
related, but I certainly believe they're connected to each
other. Ask me why I think so, and I'd say―"
"You'd say?"
"The ambulance. Suifu collapsed, and Renka, naturally,
called the ambulance. But she told me it came unusually
quickly. She said it wasn't even three minutes after she'd
phoned them."
An ambulance arriving within three minutes―this was
an extremely rare occurrence in Lost Town; no, one could
even say it was nonexistent.
 The Holy City of No. 6 was an urban society built upon
a rigid hierarchy. With the mayor and his city policies at
the apex, only a handful of "chosen ones" reigned. They
were named "elites", and lived in the luxury residences of
Chronos in a special district, blessed with an undisturbed,
excessive, and exceedingly comfortable life. The regular
citizens below them, although far from having a life like
one in Chronos, lived their daily lives supported by
highly-developed medical and scientific technologies, in
happiness―or in what they were made to think of as
happiness. People like Karan who lived in Lost Town, even
farther from "elite", were not insured of any of the city's
services and aid that were normally available to regular
citizens. They were treated like sub-citizens. To borrow
Yoming's words, Lost Town was like a warehouse for
disposable humans.
Emergency medical care was almost unattainable in
Lost Town. Karan remembered hearing that the number of
ambulances and medical clinics were less than a tenth of
Chronos. This was regardless of the fact that Lost Town
had many more injured and ill patients than Chronos.
An ambulance had arrived in less than three minutes.
What was the meaning behind this almost miraculous
occurrence?
"Do you mean that Lili's father was being placed under
surveillance, so that they could deal with it quickly if
anything out-of-the-ordinary happened?"
"It was probably Level 3 surveillance. Suifu started
convulsing at the dinner table, but by the time the
ambulance arrived, he was already not moving. I don't
know whether he was still alive at this point, or if he was
already a corpse, because people from the Health and
Hygiene Bureau carried him off. Renka tried to accompany
him in the ambulance, but she was refused. They ordered
her to stay at home."
"And after that, Lili's father..."
"Two hours later, he came back as a cold body. A
doctor that was sent over by the Health and Hygiene
Bureau explained that it was a heart attack, but of course
we could never believe that. I was at the scene too,
because I'd rushed over after getting Renka's call. I begged
him to explain in more detail, but it didn't do any good.
The only thing that happened was Suifu's ID card getting
exchanged for a Confirmation of Death card to permit his
funeral."
"I see... so that was what happened."
She knew she was giving a rather unthoughtful answer.
But she had no idea what kind of answer she could have
given to Yoming's words―what answer she ought to have
given. It wasn't something she could just let in one ear and
out the other. But of course, easy words of consolation
and condolence were equally as inappropriate. Then what
would she say, and how? She couldn't help but hesitate.
Her hesitation turned to unease, and faintly took on a
tinge of fear. Yoming's words further coloured this fear
deeply.
 "When the doctor was leaving, what do you think he
said to Renka? 'This patient passed away almost without
any pain at all,' he said. And true, Suifu's dead face was
peaceful. He was smiling like he was having some nice
dream. But Renka and Lili saw how his face was twisted in
pain before he collapsed. How could they ever believe
that he'd died a peaceful death?"
"So you're saying the Lili's father's dead face was made
to look peaceful by some special method..." Karan
swallowed hard. Her own parents included, all of the
bodies that Karan had ever seen were always smiling
peacefully. Their faces were graced with smiles that made
them look like they had never experienced a single pain or
hardship while they were alive. Every dead face was
beautiful. That was how she thought they were supposed
to be―that in No. 6, where palliative care was highly
developed, everyone was promised a calm and painless
death.
It was a lie. It was all artificial. Here, even human
deaths were covered up and modified. All the
circumstances and truths that clung to each and every
human death were scrubbed clean like tanned hide,
levelled, fixed up, and tucked away as a "peaceful death".
We're living in a world that is more disturbing than I
could ever fathom. And what if this disturbing nature was
far beyond what my pallid imagination could visualize...?
"Whatever the case, Suifu's death is still shrouded in
mystery. Renka's remarried and managing to get on with
her life. I'm―as you can probably see―living day-to-day as
an information-broker. I've been so caught up with other
tasks that a lot of times, I forget about Suifu. And I say
damnit to myself every time. Those are my days: gnashing
my teeth, reminding myself that I can't let myself forget
about Suifu, and of course my wife and son."
"There would be no way you would forget it," Karan
reassured him, "if Lili's father and your wife and son have
been murdered by this city. You wouldn't be able to, would
you?"
"No. And that's the only thing I can do now: remember.
Keep remembering. I'll never forget all the people that
were taken from me. But sometimes I get a nasty chill
when I think―what if the authorities catch me? And I
wonder, if they ever erased my memory..."
Yoming peered closely at Karan's face. Her eyes were
shadowed. It looked as if despair had been poured into her
eyes, and her gaze was swimming in it.
"What do you mean, erase your memory?" she asked.
"Lobotomy. Cutting into my brain with a scalpel, and
taking my memories and thinking ability from me."
"Yoming, you're―" You're letting your thoughts run
away with you. You're being delusional.
She couldn't say the rest of her words.
Lobotomy―maybe it was possible. After Shion
disappeared, the Holy City shed mask after mask of
artifice, right before her eyes. Although she had only seen
a small portion, what Karan saw of No. 6 was not a Holy
City; it was a remorseless authoritarian city-state.
This city is trying to dominate people.
They wanted to dominate without exception the
minds, the bodies, of everyone who lived in the city. They
wanted to put their thoughts, lives, and fates under
relentless scrutiny, and dominate them.
Yes, it was like Yoming said. No. 6 devoured people.
They tore through any attempt to remain human, any soul,
or will to resist, any wish, and wolfed it all down. It was
no Holy City. It was a rearing monster, gone mad with
desire for domination.
Had no one realized? Was everyone too fooled by their
appearance of a satisfactory and comfortable lifestyle to
even notice the monstrous figure? What stupidity...
Karan shook her head vigorously. These were not
simply someone else's problems. They were most certainly
not.
"Karan, are you starting to feel ill again?" Yoming said
with concern. "You just fainted after all―you should rest a
little. I'm sorry for bringing up something like this."
Yoming looked sincerely apologetic. Karan shook her
head firmly again.
"No, that's not it. I was just―remembering something."
"Hm? What?"
 "Lili's asked me that before. Whether we're really
happy or not."
Lili had once asked her.
"We're happy, right?"
It was quite a while back. It was after Karan had gone
through the struggle to open her bakery, and it was finally
starting to operate smoothly. Karan had murmured, hmm,
well, I guess, and cocked her head to the side. She had
been able to make baking, which she liked, into her life's
work. It wasn't much to live on, but at least she had an
idea now of how she and her son could make a living. Even
after being revoked of all their special privileges and
being exiled from Chronos, they had been able to acquire
a stable life. It was during that time. Back then she had no
way of knowing that in a few years, a cruel separation
from Shion would be waiting for her. So in truth, if she was
asked are you happy, she could very well have nodded and
said, why yes, I guess I am. Karan had indeed not thought
of herself as unhappy at that time.
Karan's fall from Chronos to Lost Town didn't cause her
much grief or suffering. On the contrary, she was enjoying
the lightness of her load, having cast off her life insured of
all amenities like food, clothing, and shelter. Despite
having to deal with treatment as a sub-citizen, she was
still within the walls of No. 6 as a resident of Lost Town.
As long as she didn't desire anything extravagant, she had
nothing lacking in her life. Clean water and food were
easily accessible. Although understaffed, there were
medical clinics for Lost Town residents where she could go
to get examined. She had an abode that could withstand
wind and rain. She was free from any fears of
malnutrition, starvation, hypothermia, or genocide. Shion
was by her side, and she had customers who came to her
bakery to buy her bread.
She was not unhappy at all.
She had not been able to agree promptly to Lili's
question of whether they were happy, not because of her
own situation or state-of-mind, but because of a shadow
that had flitted across Lili's eyes. Perhaps it was
uncertainty. Perhaps Lili was uncertain, her emotions so
unsettled, that she had clung to the bakery madam, whom
she loved and trusted.
"It's hard to say whether we're happy or not, in one
word. There's a lot of times where we're happy and we're
not, when we're joyful or sad. Lots of different feelings."
"Right?" Lili squeezed her fingers. "We have lots of
different feelings, right?"
"Right. You feel like that too, don't you Lili? Even
during a single day, sometimes you feel happy, and
sometimes unhappy, right?"
"Yeah, I do. When I'm really hungry, and I get to eat
your muffins, ma'am, I feel happy. But when Mommy gets
mad at me or when I get into a fight with my friend and
we can't say sorry and make up, I feel sad. But..."
"Hm?"
 "But at school, the teacher says that everyone who
lives in No. 6 is happy. He says there's no one in No. 6
that's unhappy."
"You learned this in class?"
"Yeah. When the principal was saying his speech. He
said outside of No. 6, the world is really tough and
unhappy. And people die there every day. They die
because they don't have enough to eat, or because they
fight and hurt each other. He said people are like beasts,
and they live like beasts too. And compared to those
people, No. 6 is heaven, and everyone's happy."
By beast-like people, he probably meant the residents
of the West Block. It was such a scornful way to talk about
people. To think that someone involved in the education
of children would call another human a beast....
Karan knitted her brow. She crouched down, and
looked Lili in the eye.
"But you didn't think so, Lili?"
"Hmm," Lili thought aloud. "I just felt kinda weird. Like
this wiggly feeling in my stomach. Because―because you
know... Mommy sometimes makes a sad face because she's
tired from work, or because we don't have money. And
Grandpa Saiton next door always looks painful because his
back hurts. So when he said everyone's happy, it just felt
weird..."
"And you didn't tell the principal this?"
Lili widened her eyes, shook her head vehemently.
 "If I said that, the principal would be really angry at
me. Sometimes you get called to the office and they hit
you with a whip."
"My goodness, with a whip! That's terrible..."
"If you live in No. 6 and you don't think you're happy, it
means you're a bad kid. So they say, of course we should
get whipped."
"Certainly not!" Karan found herself saying shrilly. She
placed a hand on Lili's shoulder. "Lili, that's certainly not
true. Not true at all."
"Ma'am..."
Her heart grew restless. She could hear its fitful
rustlings. She knew she had to tell this young girl in front
of her something important, but she could not put it well
into words. She felt frustrated at herself.
"Lili, you're still a child, and..." She stopped. "No, even
adults are allowed to have all sorts of different thoughts.
It's just not right if everyone thinks and feels exactly the
same, right? And―and―"
There are unhappy people in No. 6, too. Probably a
lot more than I think.
It was something Karan knew first-hand. She had
transferred from Chronos, a place of chosen citizens, to
Lost Town, a residence for sub-citizens. She didn't think of
that as any tragic fate, but she had definitely seen with
her eyes and experienced with her body the apex, as well
as the bottom, of the city-state of No. 6.
 Indeed, there were unhappy people not only in Lost
Town, but even in Chronos―a place that was known far
and wide as the ideal neighbourhood. Yes, there were
unhappy people, and many of them. But no one in that
area ever said 'I'm unhappy' out loud. Chronos had not a
single person who lamented difficulties with their
household income, or those who complained of physical
ailments like Saiton. All residents were promised a high
and stable income, and they were in a position that
granted them access to the latest, most developed
medical treatments at any hour of the day. But yet there
were still unhappy people.
"Whatever shall I do tomorrow?" she had heard
someone mutter once.
She was an elderly lady who lived next door. However,
"next-door" in terms of Chronos was quite a distance
because of the spacious yards attached to each house.
Periodically, gardeners from the city would come to
maintain the gardens (and also check up on and maintain
the security systems in the yard, which Karan didn't find
out until much later), so unlike Lost Town, where only a
single wall separated one household from the other, Karan
wasn't accustomed to seeing her neighbours in person or
having conversations with them.
But Karan was on unusually good terms with this
woman of over seventy, and once in a while she would be
invited over for tea. The woman's husband, daughter, and
grandchildren were all acknowledged as the highest elites
like Shion, and she was provided for and insured with
extremely favourable circumstances even compared to
other residents of Chronos. But despite that, she was
neither arrogant nor condescending, and often looked out
for and lent a helping hand to Karan, who was raising her
son all by herself.
On that day, it was the same. On a sunny and
temperate afternoon one day in late autumn, the woman
had invited Karan over for tea.
Smelling the fragrant aroma of black tea poured from
the teapot, Karan had been about to give an appreciative
mmm when the woman had mumbled those words. Her
voice was dry and brittle, like the foliage that danced on
the streets. It was dry, but heavy and gloomy.
"Whatever shall I do tomorrow?"
Karan slowly raised her gaze from the rose-patterned
teacup, and stared at the elegant, composed profile of
the woman who had just spoken. The words had reached
Karan's ears, no problem. But the tone of her voice
clashed so much with the beautiful scenery, the lavish
mansion, and the fragrant tea, that she couldn't help but
ask her to repeat.
"What was that?"
The elderly woman slowly let her gaze wander. Behind
her ruby-studded spectacles (almost solely a fashion
item), her two eyes, set in the wrinkles of her skin,
blinked.
"I... have no idea what I would like to do tomorrow."
 "Do you mean you've got nothing to do?"
"I don't know... what I want to do, Karan-san." Tears
welled up in the rims of her eyes.
"You don't know...?"
"There's nothing. It's just empty. And it makes me so
afraid. I especially despise mornings. They're utterly
horrible. When I think that it's the start of another empty
day, I feel so terrified, so..."
Karan, who had still been young, was perturbed by the
elderly woman's tearful face and her mumbled words. As if
to prove that she wasn't acting, the woman's shawl-clad
shoulders were trembling.
"Ah―but―" Karan stammered. "As long as you're
willing, I should think you'd be able to do anything you
like. So many things..."
"Do you think so? I just have a feeling that it's going to
be one empty day after another until I die.... When I think
about how I'll die without having been able to do anything,
I feel more fearful than painful."
Karan rose out of her seat, and shook her head almost
automatically.
"That's not true. Because, look―the decor of this
room, or the way you arrange tea―it's all so nice, and
you're so good at it."
The elderly woman responded to Karan's awkward
compliments with a serene smile.
 "You're a kind soul, Karan-san. But... well, someday I
suppose you'll have a taste of the same fear I feel."
The pair of eyes behind the spectacles were not
laughing at all. They were like dark caverns. Karan
remembered shivering. She had felt a chill in this room,
filled with extravagant furniture and maintained at
comfortable temperature levels all year long. The elderly
woman's gaze had been so vacant, so morose, that it had
made her shudder. The woman had plentiful time and
wealth. Was she not in a position where all her wishes
could come true? Yet here she was, lamenting: how
over-privileged of her, how greedy... Karan tried to mutter
those words in her mind. But both her heart and body
shrank back from the morose and vacant look before her.
A despair enough to petrify someone was living behind
those spectacles, emitting a dull light. Karan drained her
tea, and left hastily. She remembered clearly how the
dishes had clinked as she replaced her cup on its saucer
with trembling fingers.
Then not long after, on the edge of the changing
seasons, the elderly woman suddenly passed away. In her
coffin and surrounded by the white lilies which she always
said she loved, the elderly woman with her eyes closed
had the same glowing skin as when she was living, and her
face was graced with a gentle smile. Karan felt like if she
called her name, the woman would answer.
"I've lived a very happy life. I'm thankful for everything
about No. 6."
 Those were her last words, according to the woman's
daughter, who worked at the Central Administration
Bureau.
I've lived a very happy life. I'm
thankful for everything about No. 6.
"Your mother said this? Really?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't she? My mother lived a life
lacking in nothing. Wouldn't anyone think the same?"
"Well... I was just wondering if you yourself were just
under the impression that..."
"I?"
"Yes," Karan had said. "Have you ever thought that
your mother may have been unhappy?"
The daughter furrowed her brow, and a clear look of
distaste swam in her eyes. She gazed at Karan as if she
were looking at a hideous beast, and took half a step
backwards.
"It's simply impossible that my mother could have been
unhappy," she snapped. "She has never spent a single day
in that kind of state. Wouldn't you know from common
sense? I do hope you refrain from any more rude
comments."
She turned her back to Karan. Throughout the funeral,
she kept her distance. That was when Karan was certain
that the elderly woman had been unhappy. She had been
struggling with her unhappiness that came from being
required to be happy―a life in which she was not allowed
to be sad.
Maybe...
Her heartbeat grew more frantic. In her mind rose the
woman's face, doll-like, surrounded by white lilies.
Maybe... she killed herself―?
She could not say it out loud. It was simply impossible
for a resident of Chronos to take her own life. It was
unthinkable. They had been told it was unthinkable.
Yet... but... if unhappiness existed despite the fact
that it wasn't supposed to, then couldn't there also be
people who took their lives, on the brink of despair with
no other choice?
Karan tightly clutched her mourning gloves as the
coffin was carried out and whisked away to the cemetary.
I should have told Lili about the elderly lady.
Unhappiness was bound to exist anywhere, whether it be
Chronos or Lost Town. Karan felt like she should have
thought it out together with Lili―about why people were
unhappy; about how they could be happy again; what it
was that they could call real happiness. She should have
talked it out with the little girl―about her principal who
forced happiness upon them; about the elderly woman and
her morose gaze; the pain of being whipped like cattle.
She should have reflected more intently on her own
disquieted soul, and the little girl's agitation. But Karan
had not said anything, and had done nothing.
 "There are unhappy people everywhere. Just because
he's the principal, I don't think he has the right to say
everyone has to be happy," she had said, taking the most
neutral way out. Just then, she had heard the flour
merchant calling from the back door with his rye and
wheat flour. Customers were trickling into the store.
"Thanks, ma'am. See you later."
And Lili had left. Karan pretended to be immersed in
her work, and pushed Lili, memories of her fear at the
funeral, her thoughts of happiness and unhappiness, clean
out of her mind. She had not stopped to think. She had
even forgotten. Yoming had set his jaw and committed
everything to memory. But she had forgotten. She had
never tried to remember.
She herself was the fool, and no one else.
If I had been more wise, if I'd stopped to think a little
harder, maybe Shion wouldn't have had to go through
what he did.
It was not only Shion. Perhaps she had burdened Safu
as well, with an unfair and cruel fate. Karan chewed her
lip hard.
Shion, Safu, be alive. Please, live on. Live to come
home, and let me apologize for my foolishness. Let me
embrace you with these arms. Let me beg for your
forgiveness.
She pressed the scrap of paper to her bosom, and
prayed.
 Nezumi, I pray to you. Please, let me see their faces
again. Just one more time.
She heard Lili's tinkling laughter. It was lighthearted
and carefree, and punctuated with soft chirrups from the
little mice.
Reunion will come.
She murmured the words on the memo. She tried to
hold back the tears that were threatening to spill from her
eyes. Crying wasn't going to solve anything.
Right now, I can only send my prayers to you, whom
I've yet to see.
Reunion will come.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 2
Those in the Abyss

I was in it up to my neck by the time I realized the

way things were going. What could I do? . . . if I
refused to obey I would be killed. Or I could
commit suicide. On three different occasions I
thought of resigning, but it was impossible.
 [1]
-Wilhelm Keitel, The Nuremburg Interviews

The darkness was stabbing at him. Into his retina, his

eardrums, his skin, the darkness turned into needles that
pricked at him viciously.
Shion sucked in a deep breath and filled his chest with
air―no, darkness. By doing so, he repressed his pain and
trembling. He didn't want to cower. He didn't want to let
out a cry of fear. And he didn't want Nezumi, who was
beside him, to hear it.
Damnit if he ever hears me scream.
He didn't want to expose his unsightly self to Nezumi's
eyes. Shion gulped in another breath, fully conscious of
the pride within him which, even in these circumstances,
nagged persistently at him.
Hn.
Nezumi sniffed derisively inches from his ear. At the
same time, the arm around Shion's waist grew tighter,
pressing around his torso.
So much for trying to act tough, he thought he heard
Nezumi whisper. But what actually reached his ears was:
"We're gonna fall."
It was a flat voice, stripped of all emotion. The
emotionless voice became a frigid wind that wrapped
around Shion's body. With his sense of pain, his fear, and
his pride whipped away, for an instant, Shion was empty.
Like a cicada shedding its skin, he became a hollow cavern
that left only its outward appearance intact. He
sometimes had this sensation when listening to Nezumi's
voice. He didn't mind it much. In fact, it even felt
refreshing. Exhilarating, even, to become empty.
When Shion tried to suck in his third breath, the floor
disappeared from beneath his feet. With a heavy thunk it
had split in two. It was like a gallows. It almost felt
strange that he wasn't feeling the rope digging into his
neck; hearing the sound of his cervical vertebrae cracking;
feeling his body swinging limply in the air.
They were falling. Falling, straight down―at least they
were supposed to be, but he couldn't grasp what was
happening. He wasn't sure whether they were falling,
floating, or rising. He couldn't distinguish between
descent, suspension, or ascension. His senses were
swallowed up by the darkness that surrounded him on all
sides.
An impact hit him. He felt his whole body slam into
something hard. His breath died on his lips. Whatever he
had fallen on was slightly elastic, absorbing and mediating
the force enough to avoid spraining his muscles or
shattering his bones.
What did I land on―?
He had no time to check. He was yanked forcefully.
"Roll."
 He was half-shoved into a roll by Nezumi. He turned
over and over, thinking of nothing, feeling no fear. His
shoulder hit something hard, and he felt a pain followed
by tingling. He had evidently hit a wall. As he placed his
palm on the floor to push himself up, he felt a
tremor―like vibrations, like strange rumbling.
"Stand up. Push yourself up against the wall."
Shion stood up, and huddled close to the wall, which
was rough on the surface―probably concrete. His
thoughts, willpower, and senses were half-numb. He could
only barely manage to follow Nezumi's directions and
move as he was told. Nezumi's body overlapped his. It was
hotter than usual. But the heartbeat Shion felt against his
back was not even slightly out of rhythm. Crushed with
such force, Shion couldn't help but cry out.
"I can't breathe."
But his voice, which came out as a gasp, instantly
dissolved in the tremendous noise from behind them. He
couldn't even tell if he had heard his own voice.
"Nezumi."
He squirmed slightly.
"This―"
Never in his entire life had he heard sounds like this,
voices like these.
What is it? What are they?
Groaning? Rumbling? Screaming?
 A booming, thick and heavy sound roared at Shion and
pressed in on him from all directions; it welled up from
below, it came raining down from up top; it twisted and
tangled with itself. A piercing shriek rang out. Then it
rasped, cut off, and an eerie silence replaced it. But only
for an instant. And again, it welled up, it rained down...
These were not sounds of a human world. They were
not mere noises.
"Nezumi!"
Unable to bear it anymore, Shion wrenched his body
around. The force pressing against him relaxed. The heat
of Nezumi's body drew away. Shion was grabbed by his
hair, and turned around. His back was pressed against the
wall this time, and his hair yanked roughly.
His chin jerked up. Nezumi brought his lips to Shion's
exposed ear, and whispered as if to cram the words into it.
"Look if you want to. Listen if you wish. But―"
Nezumi's fingers released his hair, and slid down his
neck. They traced the red band of his scar.
"But you'll be haunted with nightmares for your whole
life. Be prepared for it."
Heh. His short laugh, almost a mere breath, seeped
into Shion's body. It was a cold laugh. It may have been
condescending. Nezumi freely controlled the various ways
in which he laughed. Normally, this would have sparked
Shion to anger. He would have reproached Nezumi, telling
him not to laugh like that.
 None other than Nezumi had taught him: condemn
from your heart those who scorn, look down upon, and
belittle themselves. He had taught him not only to be
angry, but to hone all of the emotions he possessed,
whether it was to cry, laugh, fear, reject, yearn, or love.
Don't let them go numb. Don't let them wither. Bare
your fangs at all that threatens to desecrate your
humanness.
Shion had definitely been taught. But right now, he
was too overwhelmed to be angry. His emotions were
falling, sifting right through him.
"Nezumi... what is this?"
"Reality." There was no hint of laughter left in his
voice. "If you're gonna look, see it through 'til the end. If
you're gonna listen, don't ever think of plugging your ears."
See this through... all of this​?
Shion opened his mouth, and gasped for air.
Before his eyes was darkness. The bottom of this
darkness was crawling with people. To him, it looked like
they were crawling. The darkness had shades both dark
and light, and his eyes, beginning to adjust, caught the
darkest shades. It was a lump of overlapped people. The
people who had been packed into the elevator had been
smashed onto the floor, and were now squirming,
crawling.
There was a blood-curdling scream. A shadow came
dropping down. Someone who had been clinging onto some
part of the elevator had finally spent his strength. Shion
couldn't tell whether it was a man or woman. Like the roar
of a beast, the scream echoed into the painted black
darkness.
Thud.
The sound of flesh hitting flesh. Its vibrations shook
not his eardrums, but his entire body, making his skin
bristle.
Shion tried to remember. He tried to remember each
and every one who had been shut in with the elevator
with him.
There was a man. There was a woman. There was an
elderly lady with mussed grey hair. There was a young girl
with tanned skin. There was a wiry merchant with sunken
eyes. There was a deathly pale man, a surviving member
of the Disposers.
Wasn't there a mother holding her infant? Wasn't there
a baby in that mother's arms? There was. There certainly
was.
Wrapped in a dirty white cloth, the infant was
wriggling at his mother's breast... somewhere, in this mass
of people―a stench came flowing into his nostrils. It was
like all of his senses, numb and dormant until now, had
opened themselves out to the outside world all at once.
He began sweating profusely. His teeth refused to
come together, and they chattered incessantly. The stench
of blood, fecal matter, body odour, assaulted his nostrils
many times more viciously than inside the cargo container.
He heard people being crushed. People were being
crushed under the weight of others. Although it was a
sound he was hearing for the first time, he could tell it
was the sound of human destruction.
"This is hell," he heard himself utter weakly.
"This is reality," a mutter answered back. "This isn't
any hell. This is the reality of the world you've been living
in, Shion."
A wave of nausea washed over him. Leaning heavily on
the wall, Shion covered his mouth with his hand. His
stomach fluids spilled through his clenched teeth. The
sweat stung in his eyes. Behind his closed eyelids,
memories of his days in No. 6 floated and flashed by.
The roses of myriad colours that bloomed in the
residences of Chronos; the evening sky; the powder-blue
walls of his classroom; Safu waving her hand; early
morning in Lost Town; the fragrance of bread that filled
the house; Karan with her back to him; a little girl's
footsteps―'Good morning, brother' 'Good morning, Lili';
Sampo's clunky round body; the ladies' hat that Ippo had
squashed by mistake―it had been decorated with a pink
flower pin―'Oh no, Ippo, that's not good―' Yamase yelling;
the aroma of coffee at the café that he had stopped in
with Safu; the tree branches rustling and swishing in the
breeze―oh, the green―it was so vivid.
I want to go home.
He longed for it achingly.
 I want to go back to No. 6.
He wanted to go back to the world within the walls.
He wanted to return to his peaceful, fulfilled, quiet world.
Even if it was a land ornate in falseness, he wanted to
bury himself in beautiful artifice.
He gritted his teeth. He swallowed the stomach fluids
inside his mouth. Shion slowly raised his heavy head. His
face was drenched with perspiration.
"Nezumi..." He mustered as much strength as he could
into his legs, and managed somewhat to keep himself
upright. If he fell to his knees now, he would never be
able to get up. He would have to dig his heels in and
remain standing, even if he had to gasp for air. Nezumi
would not extend a hand to him. He would not support
him. If Shion was going to curl up here, if he was going to
go mad, if he lost his ability to stand on his own
feet―there was nothing left for him ahead.
"What should I do next?" Shion managed to speak,
albeit in a raspy voice. He felt the presence in front of
him give a short intake of breath.
"Can you move?"
"I will."
If he didn't, he would die. And he could not. He had
not come here to die. I'm here to save her, to live. Don't
forget that. I'm going to survive this reality. A crack ran
through the cross-section of No. 6 that was drifting in the
back of his eyelids. It tore apart into shreds. It shattered
and disappeared, along with his desire to flee and return.
Shion extended his hand, fully prepared to have it
shaken off. His fingertips felt a firm arm. He clenched his
hand around it.
Nezumi.
I'm not doing this to cling to your help. He wanted it
to get across.
I'm alright. I can move. I won't squat and curl up here.
His clenched fingers were not shaken off. The cold and
brittle arm only twisted slightly. An answer came to his
unspoken thoughts.
"I got it."
Almost at the same time, an orange light blinked
behind Nezumi. Shion widened his eyes. His heart
trembled at the tiny, marble-sized light. He felt like
crying. His arm stretched forward, and his fingers clutched
at thin air.
"We're gonna run, following those lights. They'll stay
on for a minute and a half."
Miniature light bulbs were attached to the wall at
equal intervals. They were tiny, tiny lights, barely enough
to water down the darkness that lay thick upon them. But
it was still light. There was still something here that was
not darkness.
"Let's go."
 Nezumi turned his back to him, and broke into a run.
Shion also stepped out to run after him, but his foot
slipped on something slimy. There was a pool of blood at
his feet.
"Fucking hell," he snarled without thinking. Something
that wasn't quite fear or shock was roaring in his chest,
filling it up and pressing against it; and at the bottom of
it, a spark was lit. Wrath. The flames of wrath circled its
licking flames in a spiral, and came racing upwards.
This is reality. Reality. Reality.
"Goddamnit."
I'll never forgive it. I'll never forgive this reality.
He moved forward. He moved forward, as if kicking
the puddle of blood out of the way. He desperately ran
after the figure that was threatening to melt into the
darkness.
I'll survive. I'll live to destroy this reality.
Shion's anger became heat that coursed through his
body. He was filled with energy right down to his toes.
Nezumi turned around. It was too dark to see the
expression on his face. He swung back around, and
slackened his pace a little. Even in times like these, his
movements were still graceful.
The light bulbs flickered. Before them was a narrow
walkway, wide enough for one person to squeeze through.
The walls were bare concrete.
 "Move along the wall."
"Nezumi, where does this lead?"
"The execution grounds."
"Huh?"
"Whatever's behind you and in front of you, you might
as well call them execution grounds. The question is just
how early or late the sentence is gonna be delivered."
A motor was humming behind them. It was an
outdated model that rattled and screeched.
"Nezumi, wait. The elevator's moving again."
"Don't stop," Nezumi clicked his tongue irritably. "Keep
moving forward. Don't stop walking."
"But the elevator―"
Shion's lips trembled. A cold bead of sweat rolled
down his spine. Nezumi opened his mouth.
"But of course," he said stonily. "They're planning to
cram all the people they've hunted in this underground
chamber."
"There's gonna be more people falling?"
"They don't fall, they get dropped. Same mechanics as
a gallows. The floor opens up. They fall to the bottom of
the abyss. If they're lucky, they'll break their neck and
leave this world painlessly for good."
"We have to tell them about this passageway."
 "Who?"
"Everyone. There are still people that can move. We
have to tell those people to escape here."
"And then what's gonna happen? Imagine."
"Huh...?"
"Yeah, there are people that can still move. Quite a
few. But what'll happen if they all trample over each other
to rush into here?"
"Well..."
A desperate mob would come swarming in. Each would
jostle and shove, vying to get into a passageway that was
barely wide enough for one.
What would happen?
One would fall, and others would fall on top of him.
The passage would fill with more screams and groans.
"Now do you see?" Nezumi said. "Look behind you."
With a hand still on the wall, Shion turned around.
Several shadows were coming this way, dragging
themselves across the ground.
"Only the people who've noticed this passage and are
able to break away get saved. Then they get to move to
the next stage."
"Then this light―is that what it's―?"
Before he could finish his sentence, the light bulbs
were extinguished. They were again plunged into inky
darkness. Then, there was a sound. The air vibrated. The
darkness trembled.
How many people were crammed into that elevator?
Ten, fifteen, twenty... more? But gee, you could probably
only see a transport elevator like that in a museum
nowadays... judging by the annoying noises, the conveyor
belt is probably worn pretty thin... wait, I have a feeling
there might have been an elevator like that in Lost Town.
Where was it again? It made annoying noises...
He was slapped across the cheek. The pain stung in
the inside of his mouth. The empty rattling of his thoughts
and perceptions returned to their normal state. But it also
meant that his conscience was being pulled back into a
hellish reality.
"Shion."
"Uh... yeah?"
"There won't be a next time."
Next time, I'm leaving you behind. I'm not a saint
who'll drag you along if you space out. You said you could
move. Then use your own legs to escape.
Shion wiped the sweat dripping from his chin with the
back of his hand.
"Follow me. Don't get separated."
Nezumi turned his back to him again. It was so dark,
and yet Shion could see the outline of his figure clearly.
I won't leave you.
 He pressed a hand to his cheek, now hot and stinging.
I'll never leave you. I'll sink my teeth in, and latch on
no matter where you go.
He would never lose sight of that back turned to him.
He would crawl across the ground to follow him if he had
to. That was the only thing in his mind. He had no room to
think about No. 6, his mother, Safu, or the parasite wasps.
He slapped his own cheek this time. He finally knew
first-hand that pain could be a sign of being alive. His
throbbing cheek was telling him, you can live, you can
still walk.
Apparently the lights only reached a short distance in
from the entrance of the passage. It was relatively
straight, and uniform in width. Just this motion of
continuous walking seemed to be awakening his thought
processes.
This passage―it's man-made.
The thought occurred to him, and Shion smiled a
little. He would never have believed he could smile, but
he felt the corners of his mouth tugging up. It was a bitter
smile, aimed at himself.
Of course it was man-made, he was smiling at himself.
This was the Correctional Facility. It was a building into
which No. 6 imprisoned the people it deemed as criminals.
Naturally, every path, every wall was man-made. The
scene that Shion had witnessed in the darkness just now
was the same. It wasn't hellish wreckage generated by
some natural disaster. Was it not a reality that had been
created by human will? Everything here was made by the
human hand.
This is the reality of the world you live in.
He repeated Nezumi's words in a corner of his mind.
This is the reality of the world I live in. Then who
made it happen, and for what purpose?
He tried to visualize the mayor's face. He used to see
photographs of his gently-smiling face everywhere on the
streets. He remembered seeing him on television. "I don't
like his ears. They're so vulgar." That was what his mother
Karan had spat, but no one ever criticized the mayor of
No. 6. He had close to one-hundred percent support from
the citizens.
Him―is it him? No, but... is it possible for such a
catastrophe to occur under one person's command? None
of the No. 6 residents knew of this gruesome reality. Why
don't they know? Why... his thoughts creaked haltingly like
the outdated elevator. They caused an unpleasant racket.
But he still had to keep thinking.
Why didn't any of them know?
"Because they don't try to find out," Nezumi said, with
his back still turned to him. His feet stopped, and he
twisted the top half of his body to face Shion. Shion didn't
know whether his eyes were getting used to it, or if
Nezumi himself was deflecting the darkness, but he could
see the expression on his face clearly.
"Nezumi, how did you know what I was thinking?"
 He was genuinely surprised. He was so startled, he had
almost lost his train of thought for a moment. Nezumi
shrugged.
"I told you before, didn't I? You're easy to understand...
well, parts of you are. Everything else about you just
baffles me."
Nezumi's tone of voice changed. It took on a hint of
softness and rang out clearly. It was a beautiful voice.
Shion couldn't express what exactly it was, or how it was
so beautiful. He couldn't put it into words, but he could
feel the comfort slowly seep into him. It was like the
comfort of lying in soft grass. He even thought he caught a
glimpse of clear blue sky.
"You tired?"
"No, I can still walk."
"Hungry?"
"Huh?"
"I'm asking you if you're hungry."
"Oh, uh―no."
He tried to remember the last decent meal he had. He
couldn't. But he was not hungry. He didn't feel any desire
at all to put anything into his mouth. Considering what he
had just slogged through, he wasn't so tough that he could
still feel hunger.
"I'm not hungry at all."
"But you're running low on energy, aren't you?"
 "No―"
An arm reached out to him. Nezumi's fingertips lightly
touched Shion's chest in a soft and languid gesture. But
Shion felt his body tipping over.
Huh?
He staggered, and fell down on his bottom. He had no
strength in his knees.
"See?" Nezumi said. "You can barely stand. At least
make sure you can assess the state you're in."
Shion was grabbed by the arm and pulled upright. A
pain racked his chest. His heart was palpitating; he
couldn't breathe. He broke into a sweat again.
"It's a considerable amount of trauma. Careful your
heart doesn't decide to quit. I don't think there are any
doctors who are attentive enough to come all the way
here to examine you."
"Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it."
"What was that?"
"Canst thou not minister to mind diseas'd;
Pluck from memory a rooted sorrow;
Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?" [2]
Nezumi shifted uneasily. Shion could hear a deep sigh.
 "Stop that, will you? The way you're butchering his
lines, Macbeth is probably spinning in his grave."
"Are you saying I'm not cut out for acting?"
"Astonishing lack of talent. You probably couldn't even
be an extra in a Shakespeare play. I'd advise you to give up
any fruitless hopes, Shion."
"I guess I will. It's too bad, really."
"There's a good boy."
Shion was smiling. It was no ugly twist of the lips: he
felt a faint but genuine smile spread across his face. At
the same time, he could feel an expanse of sky spreading
out over his head.
Invited along by Nezumi's voice, Shion had smiled, and
seen the sky.
It was that deepest hue of blue he had seen, lying in
the grassy field. The colour of the heavens was spreading
across the darkness. True, this world was ridden with
brutality and falseness. Indeed, it was rife with it. But
that wasn't the only thing that existed. Because, look―in
this world, and in people's souls, there definitely existed
beautiful things like the blue of the lofty skies.
Nezumi's voice became a bubbling spring that
quenched Shion's body and filled him to the brim. It was a
strange voice. It melted the soul, and regenerated people
to life.
 "Just a little more, and we'll be able to catch a
breath."
Nezumi half-twisted to look at him. Shion could see a
dim light over Nezumi's shoulder. It didn't flicker like the
light bulbs. It was dim, but it wasn't the kind of dimness
that made one uneasy about when the light would go out.
"What's there?"
"A resting place. A temporary one."
"Resting place... we can rest there, huh."
He had felt like he could go on walking forever. He
thought he would have to keep thinking like this, else they
would not be able to escape.
But we can rest.
He exhaled. He wanted to spring forward, but his
knees were weak, and walking was the best he could
manage.
They emerged at the end of the passageway. Shion
gulped. The scenery changed abruptly.
It was a room with white walls and a white floor. It
was quite spacious. Thanks to the man-made light
attached to the ceiling, the thick inky darkness had
lightened into a dusky evening shade. Although hazy,
Shion's vision could now capture things clearly.
Ahead of the passage, he could see a greyish door.
There was no furniture or windows in the room. There was
no stench of blood, or groaning voices. It was a white
room, filled with nothing. There were a few shadowy
figures curled up in a corner of the room. They were
presumably the ones who had been crammed into the first
elevator load, and had managed to survive and make their
way here.
Shion buckled near the entrance. All the strength was
leaving his body.
"Don't go to sleep." Nezumi knelt down beside him.
"We don't have time for that."
"We're heading somewhere else again?"
"Why, it would be no fun if this was our final
destination. I thought you came here to see that certain
cute girl of yours?"
Safu.
He clenched his fists. He let his gaze dart around. Just
as he thought, he was not met with the gaze he was
looking for. She had been kidnapped, after all, by the
Security Bureau, and imprisoned inside the Correctional
Facility.
"I wonder if Safu's safe?"
"Who knows?" Nezumi answered. "But if she's alive,
she's probably in a much better situation than we are. She
might even be enjoying a luxurious afternoon tea. If she's
alive, that is."
"Safu is alive."
 "You're trying to believe that she is. Your own selfish
wishes."
"You must believe it too. If you didn't, you wouldn't
have come with me."
"Oh really?"
"Am I wrong?"
"Shion, why don't you rewire your brain once in a while
to get out of that naive thought pattern, hm?"
"Nezumi, but... oh―"
Shion shut his mouth. A man was staggering across his
path on unsteady feet. He swayed forward, and crumpled
face-first onto the floor. The man behind him tripped over
the body, and also fell. Neither of them moved. However,
Shion could tell that they were still breathing. Their fallen
backs were still rising and falling slightly. But the man who
fell first lay still moments later.
"Aren't you gonna help him?"
Shion fell silent this time in answer to Nezumi's
question.
"What's wrong? Usually you'd be there in a flash,
helping him up."
"I can't."
His hands and feet felt like they were tied to lead
weights. Even moving a finger took a large effort. It took
all this energy to keep his body standing. He wasn't able to
extend a hand to to others. And besides....
 If he reached out and helped the man up, what would
he do then? He wouldn't be able to treat his wounds, or
console him in his grief, or even give him water to drink.
Suddenly, the man let out a groan. Then he began
coughing violently. Once it passed, he groaned again. He
was probably gravely wounded. His groan was fraught with
pain, as if his innards were being twisted.
"Somebody... help me..." The man moaned. He gasped
for air like a wounded animal. "Somebody... please...."
Shion plugged his ears. He closed his eyes. He knew he
was being a coward. Hadn't he learned so many times over
how cowardly, how shameful it was not trying to see, not
trying to listen?
Look. Listen. Don't try to make excuses. Fight with
anything that tries to make you. Your enemies aren't only
outside of you. They're inside you, too. You have to fight
with your own self who tries to avert your eyes from what
you don't want to see, and cover your ears from things
you don't want to hear.
I know. I know, Nezumi. But I can't do it now. Right
now, I'm more powerless and fragile than anything. I can't
bear seeing, or hearing, any more.
The man lifted his face. Their eyes met. To his utter
misfortune, their eyes had met. Shion shrank back. The
man was dying. He was on the brink, but unable to die
completely, and writhing in the suffering of it.
"Help... me..."
 Perhaps his bones were broken; perhaps his innards
were crushed: bloody foam was spilling out of the man's
mouth. His whole body was convulsing in small jerks. For
the man, death was the only path out of his suffering. But
even Death was laughing scornfully at him. It would not
visit him so easily. His residual life came back to lash the
man again and again.
He came crawling towards them. His gaze never left
Shion. His eyes were like a murky swamp, and at the same
time, like a bottomless cavern.
"Help me..."
Please. Save me. Save me and raise me from this
eternal suffering. Let me rest―oh, please―let me be at
peace.
Shion swallowed the saliva in his mouth. Before he
knew it, he was kneeling down beside the man who was
lying on his back. His long neck protruded from his shirt
which was reduced to rags. It was a thin, stringy, pitiful
neck. Even above ground, he had probably not led a
hospitable life. It was admirable for him to have come this
far.
The man was looking only at Shion. A murky swamp, a
bottomless cavern. Its clouded depths reflected nothing,
harboured nothing. His eyes did not even blink. Only his
bloodstained lips were moving.
"Why... did I have to..." he croaked.
 Yes. What did this man ever do? Why did he have to go
through something like this? He was a West Block resident:
why, for that reason solely, did he have to be crushed like
an insect? For what reason did he have to endure so much
suffering?
"Why... why..."
The man's lips never stopped moving. Wringing the last
strength from his body, he repeated his question, over and
over and over.
Tell me. Why? Why? Why? Why?
Shion, stooped above the man's face, slowly shook his
head.
I can't answer that. I can't give you any answer at all.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. If there was anything he
could do, it was....
He put his fingers to the man's throat. It was damp,
yet cold. All he had to do was put a little strength into
these fingers. His weakening breathing would probably
stop without any pain. Then he would be at peace. If
there's anything I could do, it would be to flex these
fingers, and choke him.
On his palms, his fingers, he felt the sensation of raw
flesh and bone. His slight convulsions, and his pulse. The
man's mouth opened, and bloody foam and a groan poured
forth. The tip of his tongue was wiggling. Shion's arms
trembled. He couldn't put any strength in them.
 "Stop, that's enough."
He was pulled back by the shoulder. The neck slid from
Shion's fingers like it was coated in sticky ooze.
"He'll never go easily like that."
Shion turned around, and gazed at Nezumi. For an
instant, a shadow flitted across his glittering dark-grey
eyes. It was a pitying shadow.
"Nezumi, I..."
"You can't do it." A quivering sigh escaped his shapely
lips. "I think Executioner might be an even worse job for
you than Actor."
Shoving Shion aside, Nezumi stepped forward. The
man was lying on his back, breathing raggedly. With every
breath, there was a gurgling at the back of his throat. His
fingers bent, and clawed at the air. His suffering was not
allayed even a little. The man only lay and gurgled, as if
he had even lost the strength to writhe in pain. Nezumi
knelt down on one knee, crouched low, and whispered in
his ear.
"Does it hurt?"
Only the sound of breathing answered him.
"It'll be alright. You'll feel better soon."
"Feel... better..."
"Yeah. You hung in there well. There won't be any
more suffering for you. Relax, and close your eyes."
 "I committed... a crime...."
"A crime?"
"I beat... a little child... once..."
"Mm-hmm."
"I tricked... an elderly... and st-stole... money...."
"Mm-hmm."
"I told lots... and lots... of lies..."
"Mm-hmm."
"I b... betrayed... so... many people..."
Nezumi slid a pair of leather gloves on. Then, he
gently stroked the man's cheek.
"Good. I've heard everything. It's alright now,
everything is forgiven."
"For...given..."
"Yeah. All your crimes are now forgiven. There's
nothing to be afraid of."
Nezumi's hand rested over the man's mouth and nose.
"You endured. You lived. I admire you from the bottom
of my heart, and dedicate a song to you."
"A song... for me..."
"For you."
With the bottom half of his face covered, the man
narrowed his eyes. He was smiling. Shion couldn't believe
what he was seeing. He stared transfixed at the man's
softened eyes.
He's smiling.
"Close your eyes softly. See, all the suffering... it's
going away."
A quiet melody flowed through the air. Soft, lilting,
the sounds overlapped. Shion felt like his own body was
rising up. It was weightless, like cotton fluff, and bobbed
and drifted on the breeze. Like a bird, he faced the
stream of air, and soared. Released from myriad things, he
was free.
His song steals away souls that are struggling because
they can't die. Just like how the wind scatters flower
petals, his song cuts the soul away from the body.
Inukashi had once said those words. It was not a lie.
Indeed, his soul was being led off. To some place that was
not here, it was being carried effortlessly. It was being
thieved away.
***

The singing stopped. Silence wrapped around them.

Shion had closed his eyes without realizing. The silence
seemed to gently urge him to lift his eyelids. He opened
his eyes to see Nezumi still on one knee, about to take his
hand off the man's face.
The man still had his eyes closed. His mouth was still
stained with blood, but it was no longer twisted in agony.
 "Has he passed away?"
"Just now." Nezumi let out a long exhale, and slumped
back against the wall. He took off his gloves, and clenched
them in his fist.
"Piece of shit," he heard Nezumi swear under his
breath.
"Nezumi..."
"Fucking, idiotic piece of shit."
"Who're you talking about?"
"You."
The pair of gloves whizzed towards him. As if they had
a will of their own, they attacked Shion, smacked him
right on the face, and slid to the ground.
"You're hopeless. Foolish, clumsy, useless beyond all
hope."
"Yeah."
Shion picked the gloves up. Nezumi was right. He was
foolish, clumsy, and useless. Powerless, and unskilled. No
matter how many insults were hurled at him, he could
only nod and agree.
"Not just you." Nezumi raked his bangs up, and looked
down. "So am I, and the guy that just died. We're all
pieces of shit."
"You're not!" Shion leaned forward to face him. Nezumi
lifted his face, and furrowed his brow.
 "We're the same. You and I."
"No we're not. We're totally different."
"How?"
Shion drew his chin back, and looked directly into the
pair of grey eyes.
"You saved him."
"Me? I just helped the guy stop breathing. Gave him a
little push."
"Isn't that the same as giving him salvation?"
The rims of Nezumi's eyes quavered slightly.
"It's murder."
It was a word he had not expected to hear. Nezumi
blinked slowly, just once, in front of Shion's eyes, and
extended a hand to him.
"Give me my gloves."
"Huh?"
"My gloves. Give them back to me."
"Oh―right."
With the leather gloves back in his hands, Nezumi
clicked his tongue irritably and muttered that they had
gotten dirty.
"Now they've got that guy's blood and spit on it. These
were my favourite gloves."
 "Nezumi... what do you mean by murder?"
"Murder is murder," Nezumi answered brusquely. "What
I did was kill that man. I covered his mouth while he was
still alive, and suffocated him. People usually call that
murder, Shion, just in case you didn't know."
"But thanks to you, he was saved. He was freed from
suffering."
"So?"
"So―" Shion stammered, "so you saved him. Now he's at
rest. He was released from pain, he was able to repent his
sins, and he was able to go peacefully. What you did
wasn't murder. It was salvation."
Nezumi leaned against the wall and blinked at him
again.
"That's arrogant of you."
"Arrogant?"
"Yeah. That's arrogant of you, you know that? Arrogant
enough to be able to call killing someone 'salvation'. Who
are you, Shion? God? Are you mighty enough that you can
preside over other people's deaths?"
"Nezumi, I just―"
"That man shouldn't have gone peacefully," Nezumi
said savagely.
"Huh?"
 "He should have kept suffering until he died. He should
never have repented his sins and gone in tranquility. He
should have loathed and cursed his unfair death, and he
should have gasped his last breaths writhing in pain.
Look."
Nezumi jerked his chin.
"Just look at this room. Remember what the execution
chamber back there looked like. How could you leave this
world peacefully after being crushed, killed, and
tormented like mere insects? You can't. Of course you
can't. Most people who get caught in the Hunt don't
escape. They're forced to die a gruesome death. And when
those dying people leave, they ought to leave strewing
words of suffering and hatred everywhere. Then at least
their true feelings― even if it's just deep resentment or
damnation... They should never have their true feelings
stolen from them. A peaceful death would be a fake
imitation. Getting treated like bugs, getting abused, only
to die smiling? What salvation, huh? That's just a
convenient excuse. It's a low, filthy excuse. Don't you
agree? There's only gruesome death here. I trust even you
would be getting the picture by now, I hope?"
"Yeah..."
"Do you really understand? Then―" Nezumi averted his
eyes from Shion. His grey eyes had only shifted a little,
but Shion felt like a shadow had been thrown over the
light that had been shining on him dimly. It was
impossible, he knew, but he could feel it.
 "Then restrain your arrogance. Respect death as it is.
Don't think so highly of yourself, and don't think you can
be the one to give people a painless death. Don't ever put
your fingers around someone's throat again."
Shion stretched both his palms. He could still feel
man's neck on his hands. His fingertips were shaking.
If these hands had power, if they had the power to
bring a peaceful death, if they had the power to steal
souls away like Nezumi, what would I have done?
He asked himself, and Shion felt like his shaking
fingers were answering him.
I probably wouldn't have loosened my grip... and if
that's called murder, then I would have become the
murderer. But―but―could that really be evil?
"Nezumi."
"What?"
"Is it wrong to make excuses?"
"What?"
"Is it wrong to be released from suffering in the last
moment of your life? Is it wrong to die smiling?"
Whether it was just an excuse, or fake imitation,
Shion, unlike Nezumi, wasn't able to reject the fact that
people wished a peaceful death, and that there were
those who wanted to grant that wish. Nezumi sighed.
"Shion, do you still not understand? If you think of the
dozens―no, hundreds by now, if you think of the people
who have been killed already... what happens to those
hundreds of lives, their hatred, their resentment? Are you
gonna make excuses, and pretend it never existed?"
"No. It wouldn't happen that way. That would never be
tolerated. But that's what the survivors are supposed to
do. They live, they remember, and they tell others. They
tell the truth of what happened in this place. It's a job for
the survivors―for us. We'll engrave it into our memory, and
never forget. But―but at least―for those who are already
dying... if only they could go without hatred, if only we
could―"
"Grant them an eternal slumber?"
"Yeah."
"Idealistic, aren't you."
"I don't think it's wrong. I don't think what you did is
murder, at least. I just can't see it that way."
Nezumi's breathing quickened slightly. A shadow
skimmed across his eyes. His gaze darkened as he looked
at Shion, and wavered along with his breaths.
"Remembering is the role of the survivors, huh...
convenient, isn't it? How can you be so sure that there'll
even be survivors? No wait, I see, you're already assuming
you'll survive. Quite the optimist, aren't you, young
master?"
"We vowed together that we'd make it back alive."
"That we'd never die, no matter what?"
 "Yeah. We'll live, and go back to that room together."
Back to that room. The basement room in which they
lived flashed in the back of Shion's mind. It was vivid, as if
it were right before his eyes. The numerous books he had
taken a whole week to sort through; the bookshelves,
which covered the wall and reached to the ceiling; the
beautiful and lavishly-bound book―Nezumi had said it was
a story of a far-off land; the tattered and faded, though
sturdy, chair; the pitiful bed with its stiff mattress; the
pot puffing steam over the heater; the little mice
scampering about the room. Cravat, Hamlet, Tsukiyo.
Shion clutched at his chest. He yearned for them so
much, he felt dizzy.
I want to go back, to that place. I want to live those
days once more. Those images did not shatter like the
phantom vision of No. 6. It didn't ripple and disappear. It
stood firm, vivid and almost repulsively real. It brought to
him even the smell of the books, and the chattering of the
mice. The impulse to dig his nails into his skin and tear at
himself, pressed on his chest. He longed, and desperately
so. He wanted to go back.
That room was the only place he intended to return to
alive.
Nezumi gave a little snap of his fingers.
"You should survive and write a reportage of your
infiltration into the Correctional Facility. Who knows, it
might sell."
 "You told me a while ago I wasn't meant to be a
writer."
"Did I? It's quite the difficult task finding the right job
for you. But I do acknowledge that you have a way with
handling dogs, and sorting books, for one thing."
"Speaking of which, I think I left a half-finished book
on your bed."
"What book?"
"It's a story that takes place in some faraway land.
About a man who sells his soul to the Devil."
"Ah." Nezumi closed his eyes for some moments, and
muttered something under his breath. "Shion," he said.
"Hm?"
"We've only just started this journey."
"I know. Everything lies ahead... right?"
"I'm sure looking forward to it."
"To what?"
"Watching you," Nezumi replied. "Remembering is the
role of the survivors―your own words. I wonder how far
you'd be able to act on them? I'll be sure to watch
carefully whether you seriously try to remember
everything you see from here on out, or force yourself to
forget. I'll see it right through to the end, when those lips
go from spewing pretty words to twisting into a scowl."
 His tone was flat and regular. There was no hint of
sarcasm, anger, or irritation. Though devoid of all
emotion, his voice, for some reason, was heavy. Shion
clenched his fingers, and posed a question.
"Do you not believe me?"
"If it's about your memorization abilities, then I have
absolute faith in that."
"Which means you have doubts when it comes to my
own humanity."
"Quite a few."
Nezumi's fingers reached out and pinched Shion's chin.
His eyes narrowed, and their grey light intensified.
"I've always thought we could never live in harmony,"
he said, "that no matter how much we lived together, how
many experiences we shared, I would end my life without
ever having understood you. Shion, I'm going to tell you
the truth. Sometimes... I feel hatred towards you to the
point that I want to kill you. Just happens sometimes."
"I knew that."
"You knew?"
"I kind of realized that you―hated me."
Nezumi's fingertips dug into his chin.
"You're like No. 6 itself. It flings pretty words and
ideologies around, but its true form is something hideous.
Like a cruel devil shrouded in a beautiful veil."
 "And you're saying that's me?" Shion grabbed Nezumi's
wrist, and wrenched his fingers free from his chin. "Is that
my true form, as you see it?"
There was no answer. Shion gripped Nezumi's wrist
tightly.
"I'm different from No. 6. Absolutely different. You
don't realize that."
He could feel Nezumi's pulse against his clenched
fingers. He gripped harder.
"How are you different?"
"I would never deceive you. I wouldn't wear any veil.
I'm laying everything before you, as who I really am."
"Shion, let go of my hand. It hurts."
"I'm laying it out right in front of you. Your eyes are
the ones that are too clouded to see. You cling to the idea
of No. 6, and don't try to see me without tying me to it.
True form? You must be kidding me," he spat. "When have
you ever honestly tried to see me as who I am?"
His anger boiled, and its heat scalded his body.
You're the one who never tries to take that step
towards me. If you hate me so much you want to kill me,
then why don't you? You only ever judge my crimes, or
loathe me through the lens of No. 6. If you could hurl
your emotions at me―me as a human being―then even if
it was hatred so potent it was murderous, I would accept
it. I've steeled myself to accept it.
 Why don't you understand that?
Shion's anger passed its boiling point, and now frothed
and steamed fiercely. Nezumi shook his head as if to push
him away.
"Let go." He extracted his wrist from Shion's fingers.
"Geez, don't just grip as hard as you can like that. That
could've broken bones."
"You're not that delicate."
"I'm talking about your strength. If you had this kind of
power, I wish you'd use it when you actually need it. Look,
it's all red."
Nezumi's extended wrist now bore faint red bands.
Shion had been gripping harder than he thought.
"Didn't know you had this much power, did you?"
Nezumi asked.
"No, I didn't."
"See, you don't even know about yourself." Nezumi slid
his gloves on, hiding the reddened part of his wrist. "You
don't know what kind of human you are. Your Mama the
talented baker probably doesn't know either. She probably
thinks you're a gentle and adorable, well-behaved little
boy."
"Not like you know either, right?"
"Me? Well, I dunno about that," he said lightly. "I
probably know more than you or your Mama, to say the
least. Shion, you're right: I was too caught up with No. 6
to see you clearly. But it's not always like that.
Sometimes―just occasionally―I feel like I've been able
catch your tail, grasp a piece of the human you really
are."
"And that's when you want to kill me."
"No, no that's not it. I don't want to kill―rather..."
"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, Shion 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. Damnit," Nezumi swore,
"I'm always thrown off track when I'm with you. This is
what I mean by piece of shit. 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 passage, 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. Shion followed behind him
once again. The passage 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?
Shion 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.
Shion 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. Shion 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
space underground, wasn't there?"
"Yeah..."
"Is this that blank space?"
"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 space?"
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
basement 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 passageway. But there was nothing at the end of it,
not even a blank space. 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 Shion, 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 basement. He knew now,
down to the marrow of his bones. This place, which had
been a vacant space on the floorplan. was the Hell 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....
Shion 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.
Shion 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 Shion.
Shion 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, Shion."
Shion 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.
Shion 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," Shion 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," Shion 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. Shion 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 Shion'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, Shion, spare me. I understand now. You'll
never go insane, yeah?" Wiping his eyes again, Nezumi
drew a short breath. "Humans are more prone to laughing
than I thought. New discovery."
The smile vanished from Nezumi's face. With a stony
expression that reminded Shion of a mask, Nezumi slowly
motioned with his chin.
"Let's go."
They were at the end of the passageway. 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, Shion 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. Shion 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. Shion 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, Shion.
I know. I know. I know.
Shion reached out into the black heap. His fingers
were shaking violently. He couldn't grasp properly.
"Shion!"
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 pass 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
Nazi war criminals at Nuremburg, the first place where
core Nazi 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 --

CHAPTER 3
Those Whose Buds Bloom

Then shall I speak of the two primal Spirits of

existence, of whom the Very Holy thus spoke to
the Evil One: neither our choices nor words nor
acts, not our inner selves nor our souls agree. [1]

The baby started crying. Lying atop a grimy blanket filled

with holes, it flailed wildly, raising a voice loud enough to
echo off the ceiling.
Geez, enough of you already.
Inukashi clicked his tongue, and put the coins he was
counting back into the bag. It was his profit for the day,
and it was a hefty sum.
A night had passed since the Hunt, and the West Block
was still in the throes of confusion and anguish. Nobody
knew how many had been killed, kidnapped, or had
escaped, and no one had the energy or the means of
finding out.

Early this morning, Inukashi took a dog with him to

walk down the bazaar. More accurately, it was what had
been the bazaar―the patch of land where it had once
been until yesterday.
Most of the buildings―though it was doubtful whether
those barracks even deserved such a name―had been
destroyed, and were reduced to rubble. This Hunt had
been particularly large and sweeping compared to the
ones before. No, that was an understatement. Although
they had destroyed homes before, even razed them
completely for the sake of capturing people, they had
never been in the habit of being bent on destruction like
this. If Inukashi could get a bird's-eye view from the sky,
he would probably have seen a strange scene―a crater in
the middle of the market, with debris forming a ring
around the edges.
The bazaar had once been filled with a raucous,
though lively bustle, lined with store barracks of
questionable nature, with prostitutes, pickpockets,
starving children, old beggars, cockroaches and rats
roaming about. But in mere minutes, it had all but
vanished from this land.
It's mindblowing.
Inukashi stood atop the ruins, and sighed. It was not a
sigh of despair. He was not so innocent anymore to feel
anguish towards this catastrophe. Rather, he was
astonished.
This is how far they're gonna go.
The people of the West Block were not enemies. They
had not retaliated. They had merely gathered there,
without power or weapons. What reason did they have to
be crushed to this extent?
Rather than feel anguish, or wrath, he found himself
simply astonished.
This destructive power, such thorough ruthlessness. It
amazed him.
He bent to pick up a piece of debris at his feet.
Although it was crumbled badly, it had no burn marks. So
No. 6 had not used firearms in the Hunt this time around.
Usually they used outdated high-calibre weapons like
cannons or howitzers; sometimes they simply burned
everything to the ground with flamethrowers.
Inukashi twitched his nose. Even with his olfactory
senses, he could not smell the distinctive smoky smell of
firearms. Only the overwhelming stench of dead bodies
wafted over to him. An odourless weapon. It would leave
nothing in the wake of its destruction.
Acoustic shockwaves?
He tried saying it out loud. He remembered hearing a
little about it before from Nezumi. They had been talking
about whales. He didn't remember how they got to talking
about them. Inukashi had neither touched nor seen a
whale before. He didn't even know what the ocean was
like. The world that Inukashi knew was limited to the
ruined hotel and its surroundings. For as long as he could
remember, he had lived within those boundaries. He had
never thought of travelling outside of the West Block. He
was satisfied with his segment of the world, with the
ruins, his dogs, and the market at the centre. He had no
intention of going anywhere. But Nezumi was a wanderer.
He was the kind to appear on a whim, and disappear on a
whim. He would never settle in one place. Inukashi didn't
trust wanderers, and he didn't want anything to do with
them if he could help it. But he was attracted to the the
tales of the world that were spun from his mouth. They
were stories of worlds he had never seen and would
probably never see. The ocean was one of these. A wide,
blue expanse brimming with saltwater, and the enormous
animals that lived within it―Inukashi's heart quickened
with excitement just hearing about them. Although he had
no intention of going anywhere, his heart was drawn to
the unknown world that Nezumi told of. It was probably
because of his skilful storytelling, and his beautiful
voice―though "beautiful" was far from adequate in
describing it, "beautiful" was often the only word he
seemed to be able to come up with. And out of desire to
hear his voice and singing, the residents of the West Block
would scrape their meagre wages together, and would
flock to the shabby playhouse.
Everyone falls into his trap so easily. But I'm not like
that. Sure, I listened to his stories as if I were in a trance,
but I wasn't tricked. I noticed. I still had enough wits to.
 Inukashi threw his chest out, although there was no
one to boast to on this pile of rubble.
But he had not missed it.
Inukashi had noticed Nezumi's tone of voice change
slightly during his story about whales. It had grown flat,
losing all of his softness that usually stroked the listener
gently as if with a feather. It was just when Inukashi had
picked a flea from one of his dog's furry collars and tossed
it into his mouth.
"Acoustic shockwaves?" Inukashi licked his fingers, and
echoed Nezumi. "What's that?"
"A sound beam. They turn sound waves into
shockwaves to numb the prey and capture it."
"Those... spleen whales, or whatever?"
"Sperm whales."
"Hah," Inukashi ejected. "Catching food with sound
waves, huh. That's pretty impressive. If there was a sperm
whale in front of me right now, I think I'd want an
autograph."
"Humans might do it too."
"Uh?"
"I'm saying humans might start using it too."
"Those acoustic shock-whatcha-ma-callits?"
"Yeah."
"To catch food?"
 "For destruction."
To destroy with sound waves? Inukashi didn't
understand. But then again, more than half of what
Nezumi usually said was incomprehensible to him. Nor did
he want to understand. But it was also true that many of
those words he could not understand left a mark in his
mind.
For destruction.
"Did he..."
Inukashi clenched a piece of debris in his hand.
Was he predicting that this would occur? Did he know
that this destruction, this catastrophe was coming?
The wind was blowing. As if to mock what had
happened, today was a bright, sunny day, and a beautiful
blue sky spread out over his head. How alluring the colour
was. It stung at his eyes.
Inukashi took a deep breath. His body trembled at the
joy that he was alive, right this moment, and breathing.
Many had died. Nezumi and Shion were missing. They were
either buried under this rubble, or had succeeded in
sneaking into the Correctional Facility―either way, they
would never meet again. He was sure they wouldn't.
Everyone's dead. Everyone's disappeared. But I'm still
here, and I've survived. He licked his bottom lip. He was
smiling, though at no one in particular.
I'm alive.
 A triumphant glory raced through his body and made
him want to let out a cry; it shook his body and soul with
an even greater force. Loss? Listlessness? He had no time
to be feeling those. Those who live are the winners. I
lived. I win. Aren't I right, Nezumi?
A dog barked. It dug at the rubble with its front paws,
nudged at it with its nose, and scrabbled at it again.
"Find anything?"
The dog, which had a grey coat and drooping ears,
gave a proud bark, and trotted over to Inukashi to drop
the contents of its mouth onto his palm. It was a silver
coin.
"Good boy." He patted the dog on the head. "Now dig
some more. We gotta find more cash."
The dog's tail wagged furiously at being complimented
by its master.
"Listen. This is where the meat shop used to be. Dig,
and you'll find meat. That'll be your dinner tonight. Meat
and money. Make sure you find both."
This time, a small white dog gave a bark. In its mouth
was a cloth pouch.
"Whoa, nice!"
There were no gold coins, but there were several
silvers and plenty of loose change. Inukashi felt like
jumping up and down. Frankly, he had not expected to
find this much booty this easily.
 I'm lucky today. Might be the best luck I've had yet.
He encouraged his dogs to dig more, find more.
He had already heard that the owner of the meat shop
had a fat sum of money stored away. He had just
confirmed that owner of the meat shop was lying lifeless
underneath the rubble. A familiar hairy arm had been
poking out from a gap in a crumbled wall. It was the same
arm that used to throw twigs and stones at kids loitering
in front of the store, or at beggars. Inukashi himself had
nearly been punched by that arm once. The man had worn
large golden rings on his thumb and index finger, and
every time he swung his arm up for a blow, they used to
glitter. Inukashi made away with the ring on his index
finger. It didn't go as well for his thumb, for it had been
blown off entirely.
He was a stingy, greedy bastard. But too bad. Once
you're a corpse, you can't spend your money, much less
save it.
After the meat shop, Inukashi planned to dig up the
used-clothing stall next door. If he did it well, maybe he
could get his hands on two, three wearable pieces of
clothing. He wanted a thick jacket preferably, but he
would take even a single shirt, a single cape. After that
was the food stall. If he could find the large soup pot that
they used to stir leftovers in over the fire, it would come
in handy.
Inukashi felt a presence. His eyes darted around, and
he clicked his tongue quietly. Quite a number of people
had appeared out of nowhere, and were beginning to dig
up the piles of rubble as well. Some unearthed something
and raised a cry, like Inukashi had just done. A gaggle of
dirty children were fighting over a piece of cloth,
presumably a blanket. For the time being here in the West
Block, physical items would probably be more cherished
than money. Money was useless in a destroyed place like
this. But within a month, this place would turn back into a
market again, unchanged from before. It would be lined
with the same haphazard shops, people would come and
go, and the place would fill with bellows, cheers, laughs,
and smells of every kind. Prostitutes would stand in the
dim alleyways, and beggars would wander about. Gold and
silver would speak, and speak loudly.
More and more people flocked to the debris. They
seemed to spring up out of the destroyed buildings
themselves. If Inukashi dawdled any longer, all the
valuable items would be carried off. He had countless
competitors.
What pain-in-the-asses.
Inukashi clicked his tongue again before laughing
voicelessly. He lifted his face, and threw a glance at the
dim outline of No. 6's fortress walls in the distance, the
walls of special alloy.
No. 6, this is who we are. No matter how many times
you step on us, we'll raise our heads again. We'll never be
destroyed. We'll crawl across the ground, we'll set our
roots down, and we'll live. We're a lot tougher than you
think.
 He narrowed his eyes. The special alloy caught the
streams of light coming from the sky, and glittered.
Inukashi had always averted his eyes from that light. It
had been too blinding for his eyes. But not today. The
glittering wall looked as cheap and flimsy as the rings on
the meat shop owner's hand.
"Maybe you're the one that's fragile." He startled
himself. He glanced around, wondering if someone else
had muttered it, but there was no one else around, other
than his dogs, within hearing distance. Inukashi was the
only one who spoke a human language.
He pressed a hand to his mouth, and scowled.
He wasn't supposed to think about No. 6. He wasn't
supposed to have anything to do with it. The Holy City had
always reigned over their heads. It was a tyrant. It
possessed absolute strength, and crushed the West Block
beneath its feet. But on the other hand, it was also true
that people and merchandise trickled out of the city into
the West Block through smuggling routes. It was also true
that Inukashi himself gained a share of the profits that
came from it.
He would latch onto No. 6 like a flea or tick, and live
on. After all, their existence was nothing more than fleas
and ticks to No. 6―though city residents had probably
never seen a flea or tick before.
That was what he had thought all along.
The Holy City reigns; as for us, we're as good as
insects.
 Thinking like that did him no harm. He had long
discarded any pride or shame. Once he did away with
useless things, and told himself that was just how things
were, he could live anywhere.
This was Inukashi's philosophy, which he had built up
during his life. He had lived by it, with his dogs, and done
decently more or less.
But these days, he felt a little strange. The axis of his
philosophy was beginning to wobble. The fortress walls of
the Holy City, which were supposed to be absolute,
sometimes looked to him like a cheap toy. Here he was,
mumbling things like, 'maybe you're the one that's fragile'.
There was something wrong with this. It was clearly odd.
He thought maybe―what if―but shook his head.
It was an absurd story. Absurd, indeed. A tick was a
tick. As long as he minded not to get squished and could
manage to suck a little blood in the process, it was good.
It was wise not to even think about whether he could tear
through the other's vulnerable spot.
Inukashi told himself so, and grimaced again. His mind
was frantic, urging him to dig out things of worth instead
of leaving it all to his dogs, but his hands remained still.
With his hands dangling, Inukashi furrowed his brow,
and turned his scowling face to the city walls.
The Holy City reigns.
As for us, we're as good as insects.
 But too late, the thought had occurred to him: he
could shake the foundations of that relationship. He could
tear through that artificial wall, and lay No. 6 exposed
and naked. It was their fault. Those two―Shion and
Nezumi―poisoned my mind.
Suddenly, Shion's face flashed in his memory. It was so
sudden, Inukashi arched his back and stumbled over,
almost touching the ground behind him with his hand.
Shion. The boy whom Nezumi had brought with him.
He was a resident of No. 6, hopelessly dense, and―hard to
believe―a first-rate criminal.
It was utterly unbelievable. Speaking of fleas and
ticks, could he even bring himself to kill any? And that
hair. Despite being young, his hair was pure white. It was
too weird. Well, maybe his hair wasn't so bad. It was shiny,
and not the kind of hair you'd see anywhere. If Inukashi
could somehow manage to peel his scalp off, perhaps it
would sell for a good price―but never mind, his
appearance wasn't the only weird thing about him; in fact,
he was weirder than his appearance.
"Yeah." Shion's clear answer reverberated in his ears.
Are the people of No. 6 the same humans as us? Inukashi
had asked. Shion had given a clear answer.
"Yeah."
Inukashi had scoffed at him, but the instant he had
heard those words, his chest had thumped loudly.
 The same humans. So the people who lived on this
side and that side of the wall were the same?
Yeah.
Inukashi could tell more than easily that Shion wasn't
just saying this for the sake of saying it; he honestly
believed it. According to Shion, it didn't matter where you
lived, what colour skin or hair you had; any person fell
into the category of "human". It was weirder than anything
he could believe. I should've asked him where he learned
that.
And Nezumi. He was no good, either. He was
mysterious, much more dangerous than Shion. Some day,
he was planning to utterly destroy No. 6. He was planning
to slash No. 6 and tear it apart, like he would slit open a
person's belly and drag out their organs with his skilful
knife.
Inukashi rubbed his arms. He had goosebumps. It
wasn't because of the cool air. Every time he thought of
Nezumi, he got these. He was afraid. He would've rather
died than admit it, but Inukashi felt a horror towards
Nezumi. From the first time they'd met, he had been
afraid of him. Those grey eyes, that soul-snatching voice,
his way with the knife: it wasn't normal. It was impossible
to get a big picture of him. He couldn't place a finger on
him. For some reason, it was horrifying. But what was
strange was that Nezumi was afraid of Shion. Inukashi
wasn't completely sure, but he could feel it. Inukashi
trusted his instincts.
 Nezumi was afraid of Shion. The reason was beyond
him, but this was no mistake. Both of them were weirdos.
Odd. But I―I let myself get poisoned by those two. And I
believed them―that we could one day shatter those
walls, and bring them down.
A dog barked. It had apparently found some meat.
Drool was dripping from the sides of its mouth. It looked
up at Inukashi in a pleading way.
"Eat." Inukashi jerked his chin. The three dogs pounced
on the hunk of meat. A hollow-cheeked boy was was
staring at them intently. Inukashi sniffed loud enough for
him to hear.
Too bad, kid. Here, you gotta find your own food. No
one's gonna give you a handout.
The boy left. The dogs latched onto the meat, and
sunk their teeth into it. The sky was blue, and there was
not a single cloud in the sky.
Shion, Nezumi.
He looked up at the heavens.
Have you really gone away? Will we really never see
each other again? Have you guys really left? Am I the only
one here?
The glory that had raced through his body only
moments before showed no sign of bubbling up again.
How am I supposed to face that wall here in this West
Block, without you guys here?
 Awooo.
A dog whined. It wasn't any of the dogs he had brought
with him. Inukashi could distinguish each of his dogs by
their bark.
This voice was―
Inukashi leapt off the wreckage, and gave a short
whistle. A large, tan dog came bounding out of the
shadows of what remained of the meat shop from
yesterday. It pounced on Inukashi.
"You made it alive, huh."
If the Hunt was close, it would be dangerous to roam
the bazaar. But if he shut himself up in the ruins, he
wouldn't be able to do business. So Inukashi had ordered
this dog to scout the bazaar out. Since it had not come
home last night, he had given up, assuming that the dog
had been rounded up in the Hunt. Inukashi hadn't
expected it to be alive.
"Good job, you pulled through it. But why didn't you
come straight home? Hm? You hurt or somethin'?"
Inukashi ran his hands quickly over the dog's body. No
blood came off on his hands. It didn't seem to be in pain.
It was dirty, but not hurt.
"Well then, what were you up to?" he said sternly. "If
you were alive, you should've come straight―" he stopped
mid-sentence. He could hear crying. It wasn't the dog. It
was― a human? And it sounded like a baby. The dog
clamped its jaws on Inukashi's sleeve, and yanked.
 "What?"
The dog was telling him to follow. Inukashi had a bad
feeling. He never had good feelings about anything, and if
he did they often weren't right, but he always had bad
feelings. And they often turned out to be right.
Oh come on, don't tell me....
The dog led its master between the ruins of the meat
shop and clothing store. It turned back, and flicked its
ears proudly. Inukashi stood still, and stared at the thing
that was nestled in the crack between a crumbled wall
and the ground. His gaze wandered for an instant once,
then he blinked, and scrutinized the space between the
wall and the ground.
It was a baby. No matter how he looked at it, it was a
human baby. Wrapped in a dark cloth, it was wailing. It
was a clamorous, energetic voice, almost unsuited for this
place.
"Were you here with this kid the whole night? Warming
him up so he wouldn't freeze?"
You bet, the dog's impressive brown tail seemed to
say, as it wagged side to side.
"Idiot," Inukashi snapped at him. "What are you gonna
do, picking up a human baby? What good is he, if you can't
even sell or eat him? What were you thinking?"
Although probably not due to Inukashi's bellow, the
baby's wailing escalated to a shrill scream. It was a voice
loud enough to make Inukashi wonder for a second if the
wall would collapse from its sheer volume. He hastily
turned his back to it.
Nothing good came out of mingling with babies. Pigs
and goats served as meat, and produced milk as well.
There was nothing to lose in taking care of them. But
human babies were nothing but hassle, and useless
baggage. But then again, it was also possible to sell him
off after raising him to a certain age. Indeed in the West
Block, there were merchants who bought and sold
children.
No thanks for me, though.
Inukashi usually never turned things down if it brought
him money. He dirtied his hands with almost any trade.
This place wasn't nice enough to let you live on pretty
ideologies. Yes. He did anything to stay alive, and he
would continue doing so. But trafficking children was one
thing he didn't want to do. Only those who had stooped to
the lowest of the low laid their hands on that business.
Inukashi wasn't trying to preach morals. But he didn't want
to fall that low. But that didn't mean he was going to save
the baby that was wailing behind him. He liked to think he
wasn't prone to the kind of softness that would make him
extend a hand out of pity or sympathy, especially if he
knew it would be nothing but a burden.
If he left this child as is, without a doubt, it would
die. The flighty sky was already starting to turn cloudy.
Perhaps it would snow in the afternoon. The ground would
freeze over along with the coming of night, and would
easily nip the life of that powerless bundle.
 But what was it to him? If the baby was going to die, it
may as well be sooner than later. If it could leave the
world without having to know what suffering was like,
maybe that was happiness in a sense. He would make a
grave for the baby, at least. It would only take a small
hole to bury it. It would be much easier than burying a
dog.
Woof!
The dog barked, and rammed into Inukashi, almost
making him fall over.
"Hey, stop! That's enough fooling around," Inukashi
shouted at it. Their eyes met. Even among the other dogs
that lived in the ruins, this one was particularly smart. It
was also a descendant of the female dog that had raised
Inukashi.
He has the same eyes as my Mum.
Peaceful, intelligent eyes.
If only all the humans had eyes like my Mum's....
At times, those thoughts crossed Inukashi's mind.
If everyone had eyes like my Mum's, maybe the world
would be a somewhat better place.
The dog was dragging the baby out from under the
wall. It pawed the ground lightly.
"What the... hell..." Inukashi gulped. He recognized
the cloth that the baby was wrapped in. He picked the
baby up, and realized that the cloth was a coat. It was
second-hand, but of considerable quality.
 "Shion..." It was what Shion had been wearing. It was a
coat that Rikiga had bought and forced onto him. "Why did
Shion...."
The dog lay down at his feet. Inukashi remembered
now, that this dog had loved Shion. Shion had loved it too,
and would brush its fur almost every day. Both of them
were smart; maybe like minds got along.
"Did Shion leave this baby to you?"
Just a single bark―woof―an affirmative.
"Th-This must be some kind of joke," Inukashi said,
flustered. "Why do I have to end up with some baby? No
way in hell am I gonna take care of this. Geez, you must
be kidding me."
The baby wriggled in his arms. It wasn't crying
anymore. Two watery eyes were fixed on Inukashi. They
were black, with a tinge of purple. Depending on the way
the light hit them, the purple shone through more
strongly. Maybe it was the tears: those eyes reminded him
of the surface of a lake at night, brimming with still
water. He thought they looked a lot like Shion's eyes. They
were similar. Maybe exactly the same.
"Hey, you wouldn't be Shion's kid, would you? He
probably doesn't even know how to have children."
Inukashi found himself speaking to it. The baby suddenly
broke into a grin. Still looking up at Inukashi, it had raised
its voice in an ecstatic giggle. Inukashi felt like something
had reached into his chest yanked violently. He felt like he
was going to cry.
 What the hell, man.
Inukashi was agitated at the laughing infant, and also
at himself, about to cry. He didn't know what to do.
A shadow crossed the sun. Clouds were coming in. The
wind whipped around his body. He felt something icy on
the nape of his neck. Inukashi finally realized that he'd
been sweating.
I'm gonna go home.
Inukashi firmly dug his heels into the ground. The
gravel beneath his feet crunched.
I gotta get home. Uh―so what do I do now... yeah, I'll
throw this baby back where it belongs, and I'll wave
goodbye. And then, and then... I gotta hurry back to the
ruins... oh, before that, I gotta dig out what I can find at
the clothing shop...
He glanced at the rubble beside him, and almost
raised a cry. Almost three times as many people from a
few minutes ago were swarming around the rubble,
digging through the remains of the buildings with their
bare hands. They didn't care if their hands bled, or their
fingernails peeled off. In this season of brutal cold, warm
garments were next to food in necessity. They didn't carry
the risk of breaking like dishes, or being crushed, like
fruit; if they dug out, washed, and mended the clothes,
they could be resold.
Got a late start.
 Inukashi clicked his tongue. Even if he joined that
crowd now, he probably wouldn't be able to find anything
much. Could he use his dogs to chase them away? The
thought flitted across Inukashi's mind, and he quickly
brushed it away. It was too dangerous. The residents of
the West Block were always on the edge as they clung to
their lives, but today they were even more desperate. No.
6 had, along with the marketplace, blown away the little
morals and order that had set their roots down on this
land.
If Inukashi set his dogs on them, the people would
disperse temporarily. But what would happen afterwards?
He would be surrounded and lynched. People didn't forgive
people who tried to monopolize living necessities amidst
destruction and confusion. If they allowed it to happen,
their own portion would not come around. There was no
way they would tolerate anyone who endangered their
own lives. The kind of people who did were not to be
tolerated.
Inukashi knew very well how violent someone could
become if cornered. It was no different from a hungry
wolf. But Inukashi also knew that once the confusion
settled, order would be restored as well, at least to the
minimal level. Order existed even within wolf packs.
But with all that aside, today's work was done. He
would have to be satisfied with what he had managed to
reap from the meat shop. It was idiotic to risk getting
lynched for instant gratification.
 Knowing when to make a clean break was also a skill
you needed to have in order to survive here.
"A-bah," the baby sputtered, stretching its hands
toward him. Its soft palms touched his cheek. Perhaps it
wanted milk: the baby puckered its lips and started
making suckling sounds. It had been brought up more or
less with care, and was not pitifully thin. For a baby in the
West Block, this was a rarity.
He felt a definite warmth and weight in his arms as he
held the baby.
Inukashi sighed, and gazed at it. He had taken it in his
arms. They had made eye contact. He had felt this
warmth and weight in his arms, and now there was no
going back.
Oh, geez.
He wanted to throw his head back and cry anguish into
the heavens.
What am I gonna do with even more baggage? What
the hell am I gonna do?
Clouds began to cover the sky above him. The wind
grew even more chilly.
What am I gonna do, Shion?
The dog at his feet gave a great swing of its tail, as if
to encourage him.
 Inukashi had no experience with raising babies. But as
for puppies, he had raised a countless number of them. He
told himself he would manage it somehow.
Humans and dogs weren't all that different.
From his experience, Inukashi felt it was true. The
only difference between them was whether one had two
legs or four legs, whether one had a tail or not.
I've taken it on myself to do it. I'll raise it.
He had picked it up in his arms, and carried it
home―there was no abandoning the baby now. He would
raise it, in his own way. If he was lucky, it would grow. If it
wasn't... well, that was not much to worry about. It would
only die.
Two of his dogs had given birth out of season. Births in
the wrong time of the year were often stillborn. Each dog
had four puppies, and half the litter of each had already
been dead when they came out of the mother.
"Well, hang in there, little guy. It's up to how lucky you
are, whether you'll live or not. If you're unlucky, then don't
blame me. You got God to―no, you got Shion to thank for
that. Got it?"
He laid the baby down beside a female dog with black
fur, so that it nestled against the dog's belly. The mother
dog, which had lost its puppies recently, gave a great sigh
as it lay on the ground. The baby was looking up at
Inukashi wide-eyed.
 They were eyes like a lake surface at nighttime. They
reflected nothing, but they looked like they would suck
everything in. Inukashi averted his gaze, and swiftly
backed away. He had to go over what he had collected
today. Inukashi was soon engrossed in the silver coins that
were piled on his table.
It was more than he had expected. He still regretted
that he hadn't gotten any clothes or a pot, but he had no
complaints with this amount of profit.
One, two, three... that meat shop geezer, I can see
how greedy he really was, look how much he's saved up.
Don't worry, I'm in charge of all of it now. You have
nothing to worry about in your afterlife.
When he had the silver coins between his fingers,
shining dully, he couldn't help but grin. I sure wish that
baby came with his own pouch of money.
But―he thought, as he clenched the coin in his fist.
I've sure gone soft.
He was sighing again. He sighed, and lapsed into
thought. Why? Why did I bring it here?
Inukashi swept up the coat that had been flung onto
the floor. It was Shion's coat. He had heard the rough gist
of things from the dog. Shion had wrapped the baby in his
coat, and left it in the dog's care. Or, rather, he had left it
in Inukashi's care.
Inukashi, please take care of him.
 Even before hearing it from the dog, as soon as the
baby had gazed at him, Shion's voice had echoed in his
head.
Inukashi, please take care of him.
He could almost see the figure of the white-haired boy
in the midst of the Hunt, in the midst of utter chaos in the
market, hiding the baby underneath the rubble. That was
why Inukashi could not resist. He could not abandon what
Shion had left him at the border of his own life and death.
If Inukashi let this baby die, then Shion...
Shion probably wouldn't blame me, he thought. He
would only be crestfallen. The purple of his eyes would
deepen, and a heavy sorrow would cross his face. Seeing
him like that pained Inukashi. I don't... want that to
happen.
He drew a breath. The silver coin rolled out of his
hand onto the table. Hey, he scolded himself sharply. Are
you supposing you can see them again? See them alive?
His own self answered.
No, I... no, of course not.
Yeah. It's impossible. Right? As impossible as waking up
tomorrow morning to see the whole ruins in full bloom.
Yeah... you're right... that might be true, but....
But? Hey, what're you thinking? This is the Hunt we're
talking about. You saw the mountain of rubble, right? How
can you be sure that Shion and Nezumi are buried
somewhere in there? Well, I can't imagine them being
buried so easily if Nezumi's around. The meat shop geezer
is the one who got flattened under his own house, haha.
But still―if they escaped being buried alive, then what?
They probably got rounded up and carted off. To the
Correctional Facility.
Taken to the... Correctional Facility.
Yeah. Correctional Facility. Once you get through the
gates, you can never get out again. They passed through
those gates of death, man. They've gone to hell. They
won't come back. There's no way they could. They'll never
appear in front of you again.
Inukashi bit his lip. He thumped his chest hard, with
his fist.
People who went through the gates of death never
returned to the world of life. He knew. Of course he knew.
His mind knew. But this―this here, refused to comply.
He opened his palm now, and rubbed his thin chest.
His heart was raising an objection. It was screaming
that it wasn't convinced.
They had said so many times. We're going to hell, but
we'll come back alive. Nezumi with Nezumi's own ways,
and Shion with his own, they had said they would
definitely return. Yes, and―and besides, Nezumi had
promised.
 If you're overcome with unbearable pain one day, I
promise I'll always rush to your side. No matter where you
are, I'll deliver a song to your soul.
Inukashi couldn't forget his serious tone as he had
whispered those words. Although he resented it heartily,
those words had supported him. If he could be wrapped by
that beautiful singing voice, all suffering would disappear,
and the peaceful death he had always hoped for would
come. To be unfearing of death meant he could be
unfearing of life. Thanks to Nezumi, Inukashi was able to
be relatively unafraid of life or death.
He made a promise. I'm gonna believe it.
One was an airheaded little boy, and the other was a
highly dangerous fraud, but neither of them ever went
back on their word.
They would come home.
He stood up, and turned around. He realized it had
been unusually quiet behind him.
The baby had brought its lips to the dog's nipple, and
was suckling. The black dog raised its head and was
staring curiously at the human child clinging onto its
nipple.
"Wow," Inukashi mused. He had to admit he was
surprised. "You're a tough one."
He had not expected the baby to be able to feed from
a dog so well. But it had been one to escape the carnage
of the Hunt: perhaps it was blessed with a strong and good
fortune.
Fate decided between life or death. God presided over
it. But the ability to cling to life and snatch it came from
human power.
"Well, good luck giving life a try." Inukashi nudged the
baby's bottom with his toe. He hadn't kicked it. He had
really only poked at it as if to tickle it. But the baby began
to cry. It flailed its limbs, and broke into sobbing. And
soon, that turned into a full-out wailing.
"Huh? Hey hey, what's wrong?" Inukashi hastily picked it
up in his arms, and the crying instantly stopped. "Don't cry,
stupid. I still got money to count. I'm busy. I have no time
to be playing with you."
He put the baby down, and it instantly erupted into
tears again. When he picked it back up, it stopped, and
even smiled.
So Inukashi had to roam about the room with the baby
in his arms. The baby remained in a splendidly good mood
as long as it was being held. Eventually, it began to lapse
into quiet breaths as it fell asleep in Inukashi's arms.
He gently laid the baby down on a blanket, and
covered it with Shion's coat. The tan-coloured dog nestled
alongside it. After a moment of hesitation, the black
female dog also sprawled out beside the baby, as if to hold
it to its belly.
 What's up with him? He's just a kid, and the dogs are
already starting to like him.
The dogs around Inukashi were midway between wild
and domesticated. They lived in the world of humans
alongside them, but they did not trust humans. They were
apprehensive, fearful, and even attacked humans at
times. They were cautious and aggressive. It was highly
unlikely for them to accept any human apart from Inukashi
so easily. Sure, it was a defenseless baby, but Inukashi
couldn't believe that they had taken it under their wing so
promptly. He had even been prepared for the baby to
receive two, three bites at least....
Geez, what's up with this kid? Maybe he really has
some of Shion's blood in him. Don't tell me he's gonna
grow up to be an airhead like him, too.
It was kind of funny when he tried to imagine it, and
he laughed. But now, the baby had no fear of freezing. It
had filled its belly, and was now able to sleep, free of the
cold. It was something to be thankful for. For Inukashi,
this would have been the most fortunate circumstances he
could ever be in, But yet the baby still cried. Whatever it
was that made him unhappy, made him start crying not
even five minutes after being laid down. If he carried it, it
stopped crying and went to sleep; if he put it down, it
woke up and cried. This repeated itself. Counting money
was the last thing he could do.
"You idiot. I'm the one that wants to cry here. If you
don't knock it off soon, I'm gonna throw you in a pot and
make you into dog food," he griped. It had apparently not
gotten across to the baby, for it squealed and giggled
enthusiastically, its voice bouncing off the walls.
If this was Nezumi, he'd probably sing it a gentle
lullaby, he thought. A super-special one that would lull
the baby into a deep sleep that would not make him wake
until morning.
Inukashi didn't know a single lullaby. Raised by dogs,
only thing that lingered in his ears was the sound of the
wind and the growling of the dogs. Both of them stirred
unsettling feelings rather than invite sleep.
Could I get my hands on food tomorrow?
Could I avoid freezing to death tomorrow?
Could I avoid getting beaten up too badly
tomorrow?
Could I still be alive tomorrow?
The wind brought snow, and growling brought news of
danger. It had always been like that.
Danger, danger. Be careful. Don't let your guard down
for even a second. See, that vulnerable moment could
cost you your life. Look out, it's dangerous. Look out, be
careful.
The dogs and the wind had always whispered those
words. No one ever sang to him, told him, relax and rest,
sleep peacefully.
Inukashi stopped pacing, and rocked the baby in his
arms.
 When I see Nezumi next time, I'll request a lullaby for
this baby. Of course, for free. This kid is Shion's business
anyway, he wouldn't be able to say no.
I'd want to hear it too, he thought. I'd want to hear
Nezumi sing a lullaby, even just once.
He touched the baby's cheek. It felt plump. It wasn't
hard or taut, and had a smooth elasticity. It was
comforting to the touch.
Might be tasty to eat.
The thought crossed his mind, half-serious. His
stomach, empty save for leftover food, contracted,
squealing insistently. His mouth watered. In the end, it
was meat over lullabies. He needed a full stomach more
than sleep. He swallowed his saliva.
Geez, am I hungry.
The air shifted. The air that surrounded the ruins
hummed. The barking of dogs resounded throughout.
Who is it?
***

Someone was coming. The dogs lying down outside

were now raising their voices in apprehension. But there
was nothing to be agitated about. The barking of the dogs,
both large and small, was not overly wrung in alarm or
threat.
 It was not an enemy. No stranger had wandered in; no
thief had snuck in either. It was someone unwelcome, but
of low risk.
Inukashi raised his face and quivered his nose. He
caught the smell of alcohol. At the same time, a puppy
with a torn right ear burst into the room. It yapped
insistently, reporting who the visitor was. Inukashi gave a
light wave of his hand to shut it up. See, dogs were great.
You told them to shut up, and they did.
"I know, I know. I could smell it from here. The
alcoholic old man, yeah?"
His eyes fell on the coins sitting on his table.
"Oh, crap." He shoved the baby onto the dog, and
hurriedly shovelled the coins into a bag. The moment he
stuffed the bag into his pant pocket, he heard footsteps
clambering up the stairs.
The door burst open violently.
"Will you knock, at least?" Inukashi seated himself in a
chair, and scowled exaggeratedly. "What if I was changing?"
"How many―times―in your life―do you ever― change
your clothes?" Rikiga panted heavily, his shoulders rising
and falling with every breath. He leaned against the wall.
"Hey old man, you better not run around so much.
Your lungs are probably half-melted from the booze.
Watch you don't suffocate and die."
Rikiga thrust his right hand out, still gasping.
 "What? You want a handshake?" Inukashi said.
"Get me a... glass of water."
"One copper coin."
"What?"
"You want something to drink, you trade me one
copper coin for it."
"Inukashi... you little..."
"Hey, this is a ruins. I don't have any running water like
your place, old man. I draw the water from the stream.
Precious stuff. One copper, no change."
Rikiga clicked his tongue. His forehead was damp with
sweat, despite the biting cold. He must have been in a
great hurry, for his breathing took a while to return to
normal. Wheezing raggedly, Rikiga sank into a chair, and
quipped in a sarcastic voice:
"You're not... charging for seating, are you?"
"This time it's on the house. So, on what visiting
business, sir?"
"So the Hunt has actually come, huh."
"Uh-huh."
"Shion's been taken away."
"Looks like it."
"I'm... worried, so worried... I can't sit or stand still."
 "So that's why you decided to run a marathon here?
Kudos to you."
Rikiga's fist pounded the table. A copper coin that
Inukashi had forgotten to put away fell to the floor and
rolled. He stopped it with his foot, and picked it up.
"No matter how much you worry, it isn't gonna do any
good, old man. Besides, things just went according to
plan, didn't they? They managed to slip into the
Correctional Facility, just as they wanted. We should
congratulate them."
He blew on the copper coin, and shined it with his
sleeve. "If they make it out alive, it'd be a cause for
celebration."
A deep sigh escaped from Rikiga's stubbly mouth. It
stank of alcohol.
"Shion... poor boy... when I imagine what horrible
things he must be going through right now... a good boy,
such a good boy... please be safe."
"Old man."
"What?"
"Not that I really care or anything, but―aren't you
forgetting something?
"Forgetting? What?"
"Shion didn't sneak into the Correctional Facility alone.
Well, they didn't 'sneak in' really... more like 'captured',"
he added as an afterthought. "But anyway, he's not alone.
He's got a partner. Aren't you worried about him?"
Rikiga's face contorted. If someone were to thrust a
rotting corpse under his nose, his face would probably not
be as twisted as it was now. It was an expression of
blatant dislike.
"Are you talking about Eve? I don't care about him. It'd
be a load off my chest if he could get himself caught in a
mouse trap while he's at it."
"I do agree," Inukashi said amiably. "Just imagining
Nezumi flailing around in a mouse-trap box makes me
giddy. But you were his fan, old man. I heard you used to
go see him at the playhouse all the time."
Rikiga sniffed dismissively, and turned aside.
"I was being tricked. Who could imagine that
personality from a face like that, a voice like that?
Goodness, he's as deceitful as a female fox."
"He's a guy."
"Either way, it doesn't change the fact that he's a
trickster fox demon."
Fox demon, huh. That's a good description. More
suitable for him than Rat, though he's probably closer to a
wolf than a fox.
Inukashi shrugged, and closed one eye. "Shion's got a
demon fox with him, then. He'll be fine."
 Rikiga leaned forward and grabbed Inukashi's arm.
Inukashi almost let out a cry: Rikiga's grip was that strong.
He instinctively clapped a hand over his pocket. He felt
like silver was going to be stolen from him.
"Really?" Rikiga had his bloodshot eyes open wide. "You
really think so?"
"Th-Think what? Holy crap, old man, that hurts. Leggo
of me."
"You really think Shion is okay?"
"How the hell should I know?" He withdrew his arm.
Rikiga began mumbling to himself.
"Eve is a knave, a trickster, a fraud, but he's there
when you need him."
"Are you insulting him or complimenting him?"
Rikiga ignored him, and continued mumbling.
"Yeah. I can count on him. Eve would probably protect
Shion just fine. Am I right, Inukashi?"
"I told you, I dunno." He closed his mouth, and
directed his gaze at the ceiling.
Nezumi was a knave, a trickster, a fraud, no mistake,
and that was putting it mildly. But you could count on him
in any situation too, to put it mildly. This was also no
mistake. Nezumi was more cunning and cautious than
anyone Inukashi knew. He was also level-headed, nimble,
and tough. He was like a wolf that didn't conform to a
pack.
 He had never seen a real wolf before. But he had
heard about them from his mother.
They're terrifying creatures. They don't open their
hearts to humans like we dogs. Never. They would rather
die than be taken care of by a human. They're prideful.
But they're also treacherous and always on the prowl for a
profit. They're greedy and ruthless. They don't carry a
tiny bit of sympathy in their hearts. That's the difference
between dogs and wolves. Now you listen, you're a dog.
You're not a human, or a wolf. You're a dog. Don't you
forget that.
A prideful and heartless creature. In Inukashi's mind,
the image of the wolf he'd been told about so many times
overlapped perfectly with that of Nezumi. He was
dangerous if he turned against you. But as a guard, he was
cut out for the job.
If Nezumi seriously tried to defend Shion, maybe they
would be able to return from the Correctional Facility
alive. It was a slim chance, but it wasn't zero.
Nezumi would probably defend Shion seriously, and
with all he had. He would. As long as Shion didn't trip him
up, they would probably return alive like they'd promised.
Inukashi's heart grew calm. Yeah. Yeah, that's right, he
told himself.
Evidently reading something from Inukashi's
expression, Rikiga adjusted himself in his chair, and
nodded resolutely.
 "If that's the case, then we should get moving as well."
"Huh? If what's the case?"
"We have to help them from the outside, so Shion can
come home. What else?"
"When did we decide that? I'm staying outta this,"
Inukashi said hastily. "I already agreed to be bait once. I've
contributed way more than my share."
"You're acting like you did volunteer work," scoffed
Rikiga. "You did receive your pay for that, if I'm not
mistaken."
"That doesn't even amount to pocket money.
Whatever. I have no plans of having anything to do with
them or the Correctional Facility again. None. Zip, I tell
ya."
"You're not going to help Shion?"
"Lemme tell you something, old man. I don't got any
debts or favours to repay to that airhead. We're not
friends, or brothers, or relatives, or a parent and kid."
"But he's part of our group."
"Our group?" Inukashi drew his chin back. He had not
expected to hear the words "our group" from the kind of
alcohol-pickled example of a corrupted man who
published lewd magazines and made his money off of
selling women's bodies. What a surprise.
Group mates?
"We're all in it together. Am I wrong?"
 Wrong he most certainly was. In it together? The tip of
his nose tensed. Inukashi remained silent, not knowing
whether he should laugh or be exasperated. Rikiga, on the
other hand, seemed to turn more eloquent by the minute.
"Shion is part of our group. Nobody could ever replace
him. Come on, Inukashi, you like him too, don't you?"
"Not―well―I don't hate him."
"He's like an angel. Untainted. You can't find people as
pure as those just anywhere."
"Uh-huh, is that so?" Inukashi said flatly. "So sorry, for
being the tainted one in your company."
"Nobody said you were tainted. See, Shion would never
twist people's words around like that. He accepts things
openly, honestly, and as they are. His heart is rooted in
the same place as his mother. Oh, Karan, I wonder what
she's doing now," Rikiga said forlornly. "What if she's fallen
ill from worrying about her son?"
"Who's Karan? Aren't we talking about Shion here?
Besides, old man, all you've been talking about so far is
Shion-this and Shion-that. What about Nezumi? If Shion's
part of our group, then Nezumi has to be too, doesn't he?"
"Eve, part of us? Give me a break. I'd rather welcome a
slug into my extended family than be in the same group as
a deceitful fox like him."
"You sure treat him differently from Shion, huh."
Inukashi glanced up into Rikiga's liquor-flushed face. Pure
and angelic? Is this old man really serious about that?
 Just like how he didn't know what Nezumi really was,
he didn't know what lay inside Shion either. If he peeled
off a layer, what would this angelic and pure figure reveal?
Maybe he would be more horrendous and fierce than he
ever expected. Maybe within Shion, there existed some
dark pit of truth that even Nezumi feared.
Rikiga favoured Shion too much. Angel? That was
absurd. People could become devils, but never angels.
Besides, sometimes angels could be much more brutal
than devils. A man like Rikiga, who was thoroughly versed
in wiles through his life experience, should know best.
It stinks.
There was a stench, other than alcohol. But it wasn't a
smell Inukashi disliked. He preferred the smell of rotting
meat over the perfume of flowers.
Catching Inukashi's gaze, Rikiga smiled vaguely.
"So selfless, don't you think Inukashi?"
"Who? Me?"
"Please tell me where the hell I can find a trait like
'selfless' inside you. I was talking about Shion. He
infiltrated the Correctional Facility, risking his own life, to
save his friend. He's putting his life on the line for
someone else."
"Around these parts, we call those kinds of people
Huge Idiots."
 "Inukashi, knock it off. If we don't help them out, who
will? Shion believes in us, and he's waiting for our help."
"Old man."
"Hm?"
"I can help you, depending on the event and
circumstance."
"Now that's more like it, Dogkeeper of the Ruins.
Admirable decision."
"Stop buttering me up, and let's hear your real story."
"Real story?"
"Your aim, old man. What're you after in the
Correctional Facility?"
Rikiga blinked.
"What am I after... what're you talking about? I just
wanted to help Shion, that was the only―"
"How much profit is it gonna make you?" Still holding
his pocket with his hand, Inukashi leaned forward. In
response, Rikiga slid back, chair and all.
"Geez, look at you. Every other word out of your
mouth is 'profit'. Money, money, money. Don't you have
anything else to think about?"
"Lots. My brain is always going full-throttle. And you
too, old man. Your gears are still turning in there, your
greed is still going strong. The only thing that's gotten
sluggish is probably the blood in your veins, from the
alcohol. There's no way you'd stick your hands into a job
that didn't carry profits, am I right, old man? And we're
talking against the Correctional Facility, a direct affiliate
of No. 6's Security Bureau. Enemies don't get any more
dangerous than that. Both you and I helped Nezumi sneak
in, either because we were tricked or because we got
talked into it. But this is where it ends, usually. We get
however much money we deserve for that job, and go
back to our own nests. Whatever happens afterwards isn't
any of our business... right? That's usually how it is."
"Inukashi, listen―"
"But this time, old man, you're crawling out of your
nest on your own, even saying you wanna stick your nose
into dangerous territory. For Shion? Of course not. I'd
never believe it. If my dogs started baa-ing like sheep, I'd
believe that over you."
"Like I said, it's―"
Inukashi waved his hand impatiently. He was sick of
excuses and justifications. He found himself a little
irritated. More and more he felt like he had had enough of
wasting words, trying to make excuses to each other. He
was beyond weary of coating his honest words with lies,
and trying to read the other's intentions.
At the very least...
Inukashi inhaled through his nose. The frigid air of the
room, which had no heater, coursed through his body.
At least those two never made excuses to each other.
 He didn't think Nezumi and Shion had bared all to each
other. Nezumi, especially, probably hadn't. But they never
made excuses to each other. They didn't try to manipulate
each other, or shroud their honest opinions. They lived for
each other, not out of give-and-take, nor greed, nor
calculation.
Inukashi had never encountered that sort of
relationship. There were mothers who threw away their
lives for their children. He knew a girl who had sold her
body to support her family. But those two weren't in such
a sacrificial relationship. One of them didn't have to
destroy himself for the other to be saved.
Friendship, love, group mentality, pity, sympathy,
empathy―it didn't matter what name it was given, but
none of them seemed to fit their relationship.
Both could live for the other, without the
give-and-take, without greed, without calculation,
without sacrifice. Perhaps he was tired. Inukashi found
himself envying that relationship―just a little.
He inhaled again.
But I don't have to be jealous of them. I've got my
dogs. Humans will always betray you one day. They'll
never give back to you with their whole body and soul,
like dogs do. Dogs are enough for me.
"Fine." Rikiga's shoulders shook. A smug smile spread
across his lips. What a hideous grin it was. He committed
almost any crime for money. He had nothing against
tricking, threatening, or swindling people.
 Yeah, that face is more like it. The day you put on
some mask of a kind-hearted good Samaritan is the day I
stop talking to you.
"You know, Inukashi, I don't think there's much time
left."
"For you? Oh, really? What a shame. I thought so too.
The alcohol's poisoned you, old man. If you've got anything
to leave behind, give it to me before it's too late."
"Who said I was talking about myself? I was talking
about No. 6."
"No. 6?"
"Yeah. The oh-so-beautiful Almighty Holy City."
"Not much time left? Give me the details."
Rikiga's grin widened. Got you biting the bait, his
smile said. There were times when you had to swallow the
bait, even if you could see the hook. It was bait that was
too attractive to ignore.
"Is there something strange happening in No. 6?"
"Yeah. I've been seeing strange movements around the
city that are really standing out."
It looked like Rikiga was serious about his talk: the
smile vanished from his face, and the sarcasm disappeared
from his voice. "First: there have been several cases of a
strange disease reported inside the city. Now, what it is,
or whether it's contagious, we don't know yet. But you
remember Fura saying this, don't you? The Correctional
Facility, that other facility that's just been built, and the
Health and Hygiene Bureau are connected. Health and
Hygiene Bureau, you hear? Now what does it do?"
"It monitors the health and manages treatment of all
citizens..."
"Exactly. Which means now, that strange disease is also
connected to the Correctional Facility too. You understand
what I mean so far, right?"
"More or less. I got a good earful during that farce we
did."
"Apparently, Shion's friend was pretty much kidnapped
and taken to the Correctional Facility. And this is still
unconfirmed information, but... someone who was
involved in the construction of the facility inside the
Correctional Facility supposedly died a sudden death. He
was a resident of the city, of course."
"Was he killed?"
"Not quite sure about that. But it reeks of death, and
it's coming from the city. And then we have the acoustic
shockwaves. Went all-out, didn't they? One blast, and the
whole market's gone. They used a brand-new weapon to
blow up barracks. That's like eating leftovers on a silver
platter."
"Good simile. It just screams education."
"Why, thank you," Rikiga said unconcernedly. "So that
means the city was developing weapons in secret, which is
prohibited by the Babylon Treaty. And now they've started
using it openly in public. The Hunt that happened this
time was probably to test-drive their new weapon."
Inukashi swung his neck around in a wide circle.
Rikiga had run all the way here, out of breath, worried
about Shion―or feigning it―but had managed to collect
information about the Hunt, and investigated the remains
of the destruction on the way. Maybe he had rifled through
the debris and picked out things that might make him
money while he was at it.
You can't trust this guy around anything, the tough
cookie, Inukashi snickered silently in his mind.
"Don't you think it's been hectic in there lately?" Rikiga
continued. "And too many people are dying. Not in the
West Block, either―in No. 6, the ideal city, the Holy City,
as it's been paraded as. I've had a long relationship with
that city. It always used to perch prim and composed,
never ruffling its demeanour as a utopia. But it reeks
these days. I've never smelled death come from it so
freely, without restraint. Of course, there have been
people killed, people committing suicide, but..."
"Not this blatantly."
"Yeah. Every death they put under wraps, and disposed
of it as a calm and peaceful death. Do you know about the
Twilight Cottage?"
"Whas' that?"
"Outwardly it's a facility for palliative care. A hospice,
you might call it. Ill patients who don't have long to
live―mostly the elderly―have all suffering removed, and
can die a peaceful death, not much different from a deep
sleep. That's what they say the Twilight Cottage is for."
Inukashi purred in his throat. He felt like he would
salivate. A death not much different from sleep: it was
something he'd wished for, harder than anything. He would
be embraced in softness, warmth, and he would softly
close his eyes. He would never wake up. His heart would
slowly stop beating, and his breathing would grow few and
far between. But his brain would keep dreaming. Sleep
would gently coast over to death. He would live his last
without being shut into darkness. He would be smiling.
Rikiga peered into Inukashi's eyes.
"Geez, don't make those begging eyes. You're sure easy
to understand. What I was talking about was the Twilight
Cottage as it's publicized by the authorities."
"―which means?"
"Things are different, apparently."
"Different?"
"The Twilight Cottage isn't a hospice; it's an execution
grounds."
"Execution grounds? Does that even exist inside the
Holy City?"
"Of course, it's nothing like the Correctional Facility.
It's not as obvious... all the patients brought to the
Twilight Cottage don't live out their lives and die a natural
death... as soon as they've been transported, they're
drugged, put to sleep, and―"
Perhaps even Rikiga felt resistance towards saying it
out loud; he only twitched his mouth, and then gave a
long sigh.
"But why do they do that to the citizens? What for?"
"Because they're useless," Rikiga said promptly, as if he
had been expecting Inukashi's question. "No. 6 is that kind
of city. It's ruthless against people who are useless to it. If
that person's only got his death to wait for, then why not
let him go quickly and easily with drugs? Less waste that
way. That's how they think."
Inukashi shuddered. He was getting goosebumps.
He had seen his share of grisly deaths. He had seen so
many, the fingers on both his hands weren't enough, even
if he counted over them twice. He had committed to his
heart, and resigned himself to the fact that in the West
Block, you had to accept many different kinds of deaths.
That life and death were different within the walls and
outside. But did grisly deaths pervade inside the walls just
like they did outside?
"Old man, who'd you hear that from?"
"My customers. Fura isn't the only one who sneaks out
here from No. 6 in search of our ladies. The tight
restrictions they're making these days is enough to put me
out of business now, but I've still got a couple returning
customers. Among them, some work at a direct affiliate of
the city, though not in a position as high as Fura's. Those
guys babble to the girls. Spill the beans. Why do you
think?"
"Why―well―because they feel talkative after finishing,
or something..." Inukashi said awkwardly.
"No, no. It's because they don't think of the West
Block's prostitutes as humans. They don't even think that
the girls might have brains and hearts like they do. They
don't think the girls can think, or can feel sadness in their
hearts. So they spill the beans. To them, it's probably like
talking to a rock lying on the road. That's why they can go
on divulging workplace secrets. Humans are talkative
animals; they can't shut up. 'I can't talk inside the city, so
why not talk to the prostitutes in the West Block? They
probably can't even understand language anyway.' That's
what they think. But those girls listen. Sometimes they
even flatter the guys, in order to draw out more."
"And you take that information and sell it, or use it to
threaten people to make money, huh, old man."
"Well, you have a mix of good and bad information.
Most of it is useless. But my customers from No. 6 these
days are more talkative than ever. Before, it was mostly
bragging or exaggerated lies... but now we have
complaints, discontent... uncertainty. All we're getting are
stories about uncertainty. See, Inukashi, No. 6 is no
utopia. It's only trying to keep a skilful hold over its
citizens to dominate them. And that's starting to get
obvious. It's starting to fray at the seams. Those citizens
are starting to get suffocated in that interior. They're
living in the ideal city, and yet, they can't even breathe.
And they've started to wonder why. I've heard of a
customer who lay in bed all night, mumbling 'why? Why do
you think this is?'."
"I see." Inukashi could finally see where this was going.
So that's how it is. "Strange illnesses, the new equipment
at the Correctional Facility, all that information leakage,
and the mounting complaints, dissatisfaction, uncertainty.
You're saying gas is building up within the walls of No. 6?"
"Yeah, gas. It might still be thin now, but what
happens when the density increases?" Rikiga spread the
fingers of both his hands, making a bursting gesture.
"Explode? You're saying No. 6 is gonna collapse from
the inside?"
"If everything goes as planned. Before the city-state of
No. 6 wields overwhelming military force―before it can
dominate over the world and its citizens with its power,
we have to set the gas alight. And the Correctional Facility
is where we'll start. Most of the mysteries are focused on
that place. We try prodding it for information. Aren't you
excited to find out what we'll find?"
"―and that's what Nezumi said."
"Idiot. How could a kid like him come up with an
advanced theory like this?"
"Advanced, indeed. No alcoholic brain would be able
to come up with that. What happened to the talk about
making money, huh? Is the treasure gonna get blown up
along with it, and come raining down on our heads?"
"It won't come raining down. We have to dig it up."
"Dig?"
"There's supposedly a secret safe in the basement of
the Correctional Facility."
"Secret safe? In that blank space?"
"I don't have bearings on the exact location. But
rumour says the head honchos of No. 6 have hidden a total
of several tens of thousands of tonnes of solid gold
bullion."
"Gold... gold bullion, didja say?"
"Tens of thousands of tonnes of gold bullion. They
might be bars, I don't know. So? Don't you feel blinded just
imagining that brilliance?"
"But... I mean, where did you get that information?"
"From a girl, of course. A red-headed one named Sulu,
who has a returning customer who works at the Finance
Bureau. Quite pretty."
Inukashi didn't care about the red-headed woman. His
interest was piqued many times more by the gold bullion
than human flesh.
"So you got it from her."
"Yeah. It was a bed-time story, though, so I'm not
one-hundred percent sure about its credibility. But it's
plausible, isn't it? A mountain of gold in a place where
infiltration and escape is impossible. Safer for hiding than
anywhere else. Pretty believable, I would say."
"Are we gonna be able to get it?"
"We will get it. Once No. 6 begins to crumble, the
whole place will be chaos. If we take advantage of it...
what do you think?"
Inukashi growled softly. It sounded like a dream.
Should he simply laugh and call it a stupid story, or play
along with this fairy tale, just for the sake of it?
"Does Nezumi plan to destroy the Correctional
Facility?"
"Eve? He might do it. He can't create much, but he can
sure destroy. No, why don't we have him do it? Let's have
him make a spectacle out of it."
The Correctional Facility―the very embodiment of
fear itself―would crumble. Inukashi's heart danced just
imagining its destruction unfold.
The collapsing Correctional Facility and the glittering
mounds of gold. He would receive two of the best
compensation he could ever get, in these two hands.
Perhaps it was worth the challenge. However―
Inukashi licked his lips. He inhaled, filling his nostrils
with the odour of dogs that permeated the room.
However, if he had to invest his own life in this
capital, he would decline. He would rather remain in the
ruins starving, but living, with his dogs, rather than die
buried in gold.
"What do I needa do? If it's anything risky, I'm not in."
"I know, I know. I wouldn't put you in danger. I just
need your connections."
"Connections?"
"There's a man who passes on leftover food to you
from the Correctional Facility, am I right?"
Inukashi narrowed his eyes, and clenched his jaw
lightly. Behind the drink-drowned middle-aged man,
Nezumi was wearing his signature ironic smile. He could
see it.
Good job, Nezumi. You softened this tough cookie up.
Nice cooking skills.
Many different feelings and desires were mingling,
melting, and writhing within Rikiga: genuine compassion
for Shion, destructive impulses, a strong desire to see No.
6 crumble before his eyes; and more than anything, an
attachment for gold bullion. Nezumi had used this to his
advantage. He had very artfully used this in his favour, had
given orders to him, and was controlling him this way. It
was quite something. But it was also possible that Rikiga
was fully aware that he was being controlled, and had
agreed to play the marionette for Shion and for gold
bullion; for greed and love.
Inukashi found himself sighing. They were like a
raccoon dog and fox[1] trying to out-trick each other.
Suddenly he began to miss Shion. He was a mystery, sure,
but he was a hundred times better than an old raccoon
dog and demon fox. Inukashi missed those awkward, naive
actions of his; his earnest and foolishly straightforward
way of saying things; his carefree smile. He wanted to see
Shion.
"You're receiving a substantial amount of leftovers,
aren't you? That route hasn't been cut off, has it?"
"No." It wasn't cut off yet. The man who was in charge
of waste disposal not only resold leftovers, but also the
clothes and belongings of prisoners through secret routes.
He had even once complained that he was assigned to
dispose of dead bodies. It was the department where all
of the facility's garbage and corpses were gathered. It was
located inside the Correctional Facility, and it was
regarded with the least importance, and for that reason
the management was also lax. But it would probably be
impossible to use him as a foothold to sneak into the
Facility, much less get back out of it. The man had said he
was not allowed even a single step inside the Facility from
the waste disposal site. The door that led inside simply
didn't open.
"Would he be useful at all...?" Inukashi said dubiously.
"He will be. Every knife, no matter how dull, has its
uses."
"Did Nezumi say that too?"
"Who cares? You clearly have something against
Nezumi, and it's over the top. Look, Inukashi, keep the
line open with that man. It'll come in handy. If you can,
get him wrapped around your finger."
"Got it." What was his name again? The man had a
thin, long face with drooping eyebrows, and sighed a lot.
He cared about his family―and he had complained that he
wasn't even allowed to tell them that he was working at
the Correctional Facility, and that he would be instantly
fired if he did. 'It gets you down, really, not even being
able to tell your own daughter what you do for a job,' he
had said. Daughter? Oh yes, he had one daughter. He had
also said that a baby was coming soon... and he was in
need of money. He wanted a good amount to sustain his
family―yeah, it might not be that hard to soften him up.
"I need money. You gonna set me up with some, right,
old man?"
"I know, I know. I won't force you to dig into the
savings that are loading your pocket down right now."
Rikiga scratched his chin, and grinned. "Going after the
meat shop man's savings, huh? You've got a sharp eye. I
have renewed admiration for you, Inukashi."
"Same for you. Who woulda known you'd find about it
so fast? Pretty amazing. I'm in awe."
Geez, the raccoon dog. Nothing goes unnoticed when
it comes to him.
Inukashi had just shrugged when the baby began to
cry. Rikiga stood up from his chair.
"What's that?"
 "What's what?"
"That voice. It's a baby crying."
"Huh? I don't hear anything," Inukashi said
nonchalantly. "You having auditory hallucinations now, old
man? My heart goes out to you."
After throwing a glance at Inukashi, Rikiga took big
strides toward the dogs laying in a corner of the room.
They instantly rose and began to growl menacingly at him.
"Inukashi, what's this?"
"My dogs."
"This crying one too, the one that's lodged in between
the dogs? New breed? Because it has no tail."
The wailing renewed itself with even greater volume.
Inukashi reluctantly picked the baby up in his arms. Rikiga
shook his head.
"What did you pick it up for? Planning to sell it?"
"I didn't pick it up, it was thrust onto me," Inukashi
said obstinately. "By your little angel."
"Shion?"
Inukashi gave a brief explanation. Rikiga nodded in
assent with a solemn expression on his face.
"Sounds like something Shion would do. It probably
came to him instantly to hide the baby. When his own life
was in danger, too... he's a living angel."
 "Angels don't thrust babies on other people. Geez, nice
burden he's given me."
"Don't complain. Think of how Shion must have felt.
The little guy's got a cute face. It's a boy, huh. What's his
name?"
"Shionn."
"Huh?"
"He dumped the thing in my care, so he can have the
same name too. Hey, old man, don't you think this kid's
eyes look just like Shion's?"
"Hmm, now that you mention it, they're the same
colour," Rikiga said thoughtfully. "And they're clear, like
his. Beautiful eyes."
"Right? He's an angelic child. So take him home, will
ya?" He proffered the baby in his arms. Rikiga backed
away, shaking his head.
"No, sorry, I'm a bachelor."
"Well, so am I. But you've got tons of women with big
boobs, old man."
"Yeah, but none of them can give breast milk. Here, on
the other hand, you don't even need diapers because the
dogs will lick the baby clean. They'll even warm him. You
grew up like this too, didn't you? Brilliant childrearing
environment... oh, I know, I'll get my hands on some
powdered milk and deliver it to you."
 "Shion left the baby, you know," Inukashi said
pointedly.
"I'll get some soft and clean blankets for you, too. And
not just one―two or three. Well, see you then, Inukashi.
I'll come by again soon."
With a scramble of hurried footsteps, Rikiga all but
sprinted out of the room. Apparently his knack for making
speedy getaways hadn't deteriorated yet.
The baby smiled in Inukashi's arms. It grabbed at his
long hair, and grinned happily.
"Hey Shionn, that hurts. Don't get carried away."
Inukashi prodded the baby's nose. A wide grin spread over
the tiny face. "You happy that you have a name now? You
gotta stay alive until Papa comes back, then, alright?"
A wind blew into the room. The sky was completely
covered in grey clouds.
Stay alive, Shion. Live to come pick this little guy up.
As Inukashi turned his face up to the snow clouds
drifting by, he found himself murmuring those words as if
in prayer.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 4
A Name For White Darkness

My elder brother is a cannibal!

I'm brother to a cannibal.
 Even though I'm to be the victim of cannibalism,
I'm brother to a cannibal all the same!
-Lu Xun, Diary of a Madman[1]

Shi-o-n. She tried calling his name. Since being

brought here, how many times had she called it? No
matter how many times she did, her voice never reached
him.
Safu let out a deep, deep breath. The sound of her
own sigh reached her own ears very vividly. And it wasn't
only her sighing: the faint sounds of her own body as she
shifted, her heartbeat, and even the name she'd called out
silently, all echoed back to her vividly with a clear outline.
On the contrary, her eyesight was always vague and closed
off, blankly white. It was like she was in a fog.
Where am I? She let her gaze roam about.
It was a white world, like she was seeing through
layers and layers of lace curtains. A world enveloped in
fog. When she first awoke, she had thought for a fleeting
instant that she'd wandered into a deep forest. But she
soon realized how different it was. The only thing here
was the white darkness that closed off her vision. There
were no birds chirping in the canopies; no bubbling brook,
no swishing of the trees. There was no fragrance of
flowers, nor the smell of dirt. It was odourless, soundless.
Only the sounds of her own body and soul became clearer
and clearer by the day.
Inside a deep forest...
 Safu sighed again. She had walked through a forest
with Shion once. It was a forest park in the centre of No.
6, however, so all animals and plants were minutely
scrutinized and managed by human hands. 'I don't think a
place like this should be called a forest,' Shion had said,
and grimaced in clear dislike.
Oh, I remember. How many years ago was it? I can
remember it so clearly.
Safu smiled. A feeling of happiness coursed through
her body. It was very warm, soft, and comforting. Every
time she thought of Shion, every time she revived the
hours she spent with him, she could smile.
I remember. I was beside him, and I was very happy.
Shion, don't you think memories are amazing? The
memories of being with you still bring me happiness. Yes,
it's true. I haven't forgotten a single thing. Your tone of
speech, your gaze, your gestures, your scent... I haven't
forgotten anything.
You told me once, while we were walking through the
beech-tree block of the Forest Park.
"They call it a forest, but it's a place that's under
human control. I don't feel right calling it a forest. I wish
they would at least let us walk in the natural wood in the
North Block. It's hard to get permission, though."
"But this is your workplace too, isn't it?"
"That's why I can tell how much more it's being
managed. I feel like nature should be more
unpredictable― like something that surpasses human
intelligence. Safu, don't you feel anything wrong with
this?"
"Hmm. Well, I don't feel much resistance really," she
had pondered aloud. "It's so beautiful here, after all." Safu
let her gaze wander amidst the numerous branches that
framed her above her head. The beech leaves were
beginning to turn yellow. Catching the sunlight streaming
down from the clear autumn sky, they looked almost like
they were glowing.
"Oh, look!" she had said.
"Hm?"
"There was a squirrel. It went running along that
branch."
"Beech trees bear fruit during this season, so animals
come looking for food."
"Can you eat the fruit?"
"Yeah. They're nuts, actually. They usually grow in
twos or threes, cased in a cupule."
"What's a cupule?"
"What you find in Mongolian oak fruits, and sawtooth
oak... called, uh, acorns. What's attached to the bottom is
part of it too."
"Oh, I think I know what you're talking about," Safu
grinned. Shion smiled too. His smile, glowing in the
sunlight that streamed through the beech trees, stung at
her eyes. It stung in her heart. She had been smiling then,
but she had also been about to burst into tears.
We were walking alone together. But what did you
talk about? Nuts? Cupules? Can't you be a little more
tactful with your conversation? Did it ever occur to you to
not say anything, and just snuggle up together, and feel
each other's breathing and warmth? Shion, didn't you want
to hold me? Didn't you want to love me?
I suppose you didn't. You looked like you enjoyed
being with me, though. You laughed a lot, and you were
more talkative than usual. Oh, yes yes. It was only once,
but you even said so out loud.
"It's fun being with you, Safu."
I don't think you were lying. You're the kind of person
who could never lie.
Shion, do you enjoy being with me?
Yeah. A lot.
Wouldn't it be nice if we could be together forever?
Sure we could. Safu, you're my most important―
You cared for me. You cherished me. But you didn't
love me. You didn't feel the kind of desire for me that
burned your body with yearning.
Safu, you're my most important friend.
You cruel person. So cruel, it's almost unbelievable. I
don't think anyone could be as gentle, innocent, and cruel
as you.
 Shion, who are you in love with? Who do you burn
with desire for?
Knowing you, you would probably love her singly,
devotedly, and earnestly to the point of being absurd. You
two would share both life and death, but go walking
towards life instead of death.
Shion, who do you love? Who do you desire? Why can't
it be me?
The white curtains fluttered. A dark, hazy shadow
appeared.
It's that man again.
The man that smells like blood.
"Hello, Safu." It looked like the man was raising his
hand. "How do you feel?" Even his voice was dripping with
blood. She didn't want to converse with him. She didn't
want to speak. She didn't want him to come closer.
"It looks like you can hear me just fine. But oh dear,
what is this response? Do you not like me, Safu?" The man
chuckled. It was a muffled and dark voice. Only his voice
was laughing. His heart was not. "There's nothing more
sorrowful than being hated by you. I see, so you dislike my
voice? Goodness, what a horrible response."
"I can't... see..."
"Oh! Is that an audio response? So you feel like talking
to me now, Safu? I'm delighted to be able to have a
conversation with you. Nothing could delight me more.
Come on, give it another try."
"I can't... see. Just... white."
"You can't see? Oh, yes, you probably wouldn't be able
to. You haven't completely recovered yet. Visual functions
are the slowest to recover. Almost―you're almost there,
Safu. In a little bit, those hazy things will become clear.
Then you'll finally be able to look at yourself." The man
laughed again. This time, it was from his heart. A
high-pitched, somewhat vulgar laughter. It was chilling.
Safu felt a foreboding shiver.
"Ah, have I made you feel unpleasant again? Hm?
These waves―Safu, is it fear you're feeling rather than
dislike?" The man drew nearer. His fingers touched her.
"Stop... go... away..."
"Safu, there is nothing to be afraid about. I don't
intend to hurt you at all. You're beautiful. If I said you're
the most beautiful person I know, it wouldn't be an
overstatement. See, that's why I want to make you happy."
"Ha...ppy..."
"Yes. Happy. You won't feel any suffering or sadness,
and you'll never contract a disease or have to groan in
pain. You'll never age―no, in fact, death will not even
exist. I want to give you that kind of happiness."
The man grew even more eloquent. The words
streamed from his mouth as if he were possessed.
 "Safu, you're beautiful," he said. "I'll confess this
truthfully. I can't lie to beautiful people. Please don't be
angry. At first, I only wanted an elite sample. That was
why I had you come here. It didn't matter, as long as it
was an elite. Oh, but a female one. Yes, a female... I
needed a sample of a woman. But you were so beautiful,
my heart was stolen. I couldn't treat you in the same way I
did all the other samples. That's why you're right here,
where I can reach you. See, Safu, soon you'll stop fearing
me, and begin to feel grateful towards me."
"No... no... you're... scary..."
"Such an intelligent and beautiful person like you
shouldn't whine like an obstinate child. Say, weren't you a
student specializing in cognitive functions? I had the
opportunity to read through the thesis you submitted for
your application for exchange students. It was about the
cortical column―on the functions of the finer structures
within the cerebral cortex, am I right? 'The Cortical
Column as Functional Module: The Mechanisms of
Composite Information Processing' it was called. It was
quite interesting, though the development was rather
awkward. But as a student thesis, it was top-notch."
Another layer of white curtain was swept aside. The
man turned from a dark, shadowy figure to a
human-shaped one.
"Oh? It looks like your eyesight is on the road to
recovery as well. I'm getting good numbers. Not only are
you beautiful and intelligent, you're also healthy.
Supremely ideal. I'm very fortunate to have met someone
as ideal as you."
My eyesight is coming back? I can escape from this
white world?
No happiness welled up in Safu's heart. She felt no
sense of freedom. On the contrary, she was terrified. She
was afraid of when all the curtains had been drawn aside,
when the fog cleared, what she would see, what she
would have to see.
Shion, I want to see you. I want to look at you. I want
to hear your voice. You are the only one I seek.
Shion.
―Safu.
She had heard him. She had heard his beloved voice
calling her name.
"Hm? Hey, Safu. What's the matter? What is this
response? Where did you receive this stimulus?"
Shion.
―Safu. Wait for me.
Shion.
―I'll get there. I'll save you.
Shion....
Shion is nearby. He's close to me.
 A joyful thrill pierced through Safu's body. Hope was
born. Hope was strength. It was a searing energy that
came alive, and coursed through her whole body.
Shion, you are my hope. I'm waiting for you. I'll wait
for you to come to me.
Shion.
***

He was grasping a handful of hair. It was long and

durable. He couldn't tell what colour it was. He clutched
at it like a lifeline, and climbed. He was climbing a
mountain of people piled and folded on top of each other.
He was going up, up, wedging his feet in, stepping on
people's heads, buttocks, shoulders, and legs to move
forward.
Some raised a groan the moment Shion's foot pressed
down on them. He almost screamed. But it only stuck in
his throat, and quivered there. A corner of his head ached
dully, and the muscles of his back were tense and stiff as a
board. Sweat glided down his back and chest. It drenched
his whole body.
He had been prepared for it.
From the moment he decided to infiltrate the
Correctional Facility, he had prepared himself. He had
thought he did. But that resolve had been blown into
smithereens. It had shattered, leaving no trace. After
experiencing this hell, could he still say with certainty
that he wanted to go into the Correctional Facility? He
asked himself over and over inside his head, which only
pounded with a dull pain.
So what'll you do, Shion?
I'll do it, of course.
But he couldn't say it with certainty. He couldn't even
reassure himself.
What a fragile decision it was. What a half-hearted
decision it had been.
He lifted his face, and gazed at Nezumi's figure. The
gap between them seemed to be as wide as Heaven and
Earth: Nezumi, who knew this hell and yet was still here;
and he, who was gasping from the difficulty of his
half-hearted and ignorant declaration. They were all too
different.
It was no wonder if he was called a naive little boy, or
scorned for it. It was true.
His foot slipped. As he lunged and reached forward, he
felt something soft and malleable at his fingertips. He had
grabbed someone's face, who was lying sideways. His
index finger dug into the person's nostril. The pain in
Shion's head grew worse. He felt dizzy. The strength was
leaving his hands and legs. Ah, I can't―
"Shion!" He was grabbed by the wrist, and pulled up.
"We're here."
"Here?"
 "At the summit. Well, but that's only about half of the
whole journey. But for the time being, congratulations on
a job well done."
The summit of a mountain of people, huh.
"It's too bad we haven't brought lunch with us. Wanna
take a break anyway?"
"A break... here?"
"If you know any other resting area, then there."
A tumult of groans rose up from below. They were,
quite literally, rising up from where he was standing.
"There are... still people alive..." Shion said
falteringly.
"Probably quite a few. The ones who fell first probably
didn't make it. The ones that fell second, third, might've
gotten away with broken bones. If they're lucky. See,
Shion, we were lucky to be in the second group. If we
were the first, we would've been smashed directly against
the floor."
Shion remembered what he felt at the moment of the
fall. The sensation of falling on top of human bodies. He
had used the people in the first group as a cushion, those
unlucky people who had been smashed to the floor, to
lessen the impact of his own fall.
Can I even call that fortunate?
"You okay?" Nezumi said. "If you're nauseous, it'll feel
better if you get it all out."
 "Nezumi...."
"Hm?"
"I'm sorry."
"Huh? Why're you apologizing?"
Shion covered his face with his hands. The stench of
sweat and blood, the groans of the dying people,
enwrapped him whole. They dug into his flesh, and
corroded his bones.
This is all I can take. I can't bear any more.
"I... can't do it." He could only make it this far. This
was the best he could do. He couldn't move a single step
more. If Nezumi hadn't grabbed his wrist back there, he
would have tumbled back down the slope. He couldn't do
anything alone.
"I'll... only ever become a hindrance to you."
"What're you bringing up old news for? You've always
been a hindrance. You've never been anything more than
that."
"Nezumi... leave me here."
"You're staying alone?"
He nodded.
"You'll die, Shion."
"I know," he whispered.
 "You won't die painlessly," Nezumi said. "I don't know
how many days you'll be like this for. It might be the dead
of winter, but if these corpses are left out, they'll start to
rot. You'll either go insane in the stench of decay, or you'll
faint again and again from oxygen deficiency, and weaken
that way, or..."
"Or... die on my own."
"Shion, don't take death lightly. If you underestimate
it, it'll come back to bite you in the ass. Do you have some
instantly effective poison on you, huh? How're you gonna
kill yourself here, without a knife to slash your throat,
without a rope to hang yourself? You can try biting your
tongue, or jumping off of here, but you won't die easily."
"You've―got a knife," Shion said hoarsely.
Nezumi's shoulder twitched.
"So that's what you meant."
Shion was grabbed roughly by his hair. His head was
flung back, and a knife was brought to his bared throat.
He felt like the sharp blade would slice through his skin
just from taking a deep breath.
"Are you asking me to kill you?" Nezumi hissed.
Shion inhaled silently. What would happen if he got his
throat slit right here, by Nezumi's hand? Would his blood
spurt forth, and colour Nezumi crimson?
"Shion." Nezumi's voice shook. "Are you trying to make
me kill you?"
 "Huh?"
"Don't 'huh' me. I'm asking you if you're trying to make
me kill more people than I already have."
"Never―" Shion shook his head. Nezumi's fingers
withdrew. "I would never want that. I'd hate for you to."
A long sigh. The aged female dog at Inukashi's used to
sigh in a very similar way.
My goodness. What are we ever going to do with you,
child?
"Look, think about it," Nezumi said tersely. "If I slash
your throat, that's murder. If I give you the knife, I'm
assisting your suicide. Either way, I'll have to take the
blame for your death. Are you ordering me to take the
brunt of it? And besides―"
Shion was grabbed by the hair, harder this time.
"Then what would you have memorized the layout of
the Correctional Facility for? We're just starting to need
your brain the most. I'm not gonna let you forfeit the
match now. I won't allow it."
His hair was yanked mercilessly. The pain threw
needles into his delirious consciousness.
"Without you, it'll be nearly impossible to escape from
here. If you wanna die, I won't stop you. But do it after we
get outta here. You understand what I'm saying, right?"
"Pretty well."
 "Then listen. It's just starting. Got it, Shion? I need
you."
"Yeah."
Shion willed his legs to stand. He could do it, but
barely.
"Good boy."
"Yeah."
"Let's get going, then."
"Okay." Shion had no idea where they were going next,
whether they were going to climb or descend. He didn't
think of asking. He had no energy. He could only muster all
the strength he could, and follow Nezumi. If he could be a
necessary existence for him, then it was more attractive
than dying in one stroke. To feel like this meant he still
had the will to live. He still had... the will. So his soul
hadn't completely withered away after all.
Nezumi whistled shortly. A clear, high note resounded
in the darkness. After the sound died away, a silence fell.
Even the dying people's groans were cut off.
Chit.
"Huh?"
Cheep-cheep.
A pair of small glowing dots appeared in the darkness.
It was a colour Shion remembered.
 "Hamlet?" It was the colour of the little mouse's eyes.
They were the red stars at Shion's pillow as he got ready
to go to bed; they were on top of the lofty pile of books;
under his bed, always twinkling.
"It's not Cravat or Tsukiyo, is it...?"
"I told you not to give funny names to my mice,"
Nezumi said in annoyance. "And besides, what the hell
would they be doing here?"
"You're right."
"But you're right about the mice part. It's a nameless
mouse." Nezumi whistled again. This time, it was a
melody. The red lights disappeared for a moment, and
when Shion blinked again, they were right up close to him.
Nezumi unwound a thin rope from his wrist. He tossed it
lightly to the red lights.
"It's all yours."
Cheep-cheep-cheep. The mouse squeaked. The light
was gone―the mouse had run off holding an end of the
rope in its mouth.
"Oh―it's young."
"What'd you say?"
"The nameless mouse. It's younger than Hamlet and
the rest, isn't it?"
"How can you tell? You couldn't even see the thing."
"Oh... well, I just had a feeling. Like it was still
young."
 After a few seconds of silence, he heard Nezumi click
his tongue.
"Geez, your instincts seem to sharpen in the weirdest
moments. I dunno if that makes you easy or hard to deal
with."
"I only said what I felt."
"Hmph," Nezumi sniffed derisively, "talkative for
someone who was about to give in a minute ago, huh?
Means you've still got strength to spare."
"You said you needed me. So I'm gonna try my best."
"God, you sound like a kid. I only need your brain.
Soon you'll have to run it full-throttle. Enjoy your holiday
while you can. Here, take this."
Shion was handed a rope. He could see it was woven
with a special fibre. It felt pliant and durable in his hands.
Depending on how you used it, the special fibre could be
used to sling and lift over a ton of weight, or cut cleanly
through a single hair. The rope had been tied to
something, for it was taut.
"Tie this rope to your waist. Tie it tight, and then
you're gonna fly."
"Fly?"
"Yeah, You're gonna fly through the darkness like a
nightbird. Have you tied it yet?"
"Yeah."
 "Alright, we're gonna jump. Catch a breath." Shion was
drawn closer, and he flew, half-carried by Nezumi, through
the air. The darkness swayed all around him. He felt like
he had become a pendulum. But his body soon hit a wall.
He smelled dirt.
"Hold onto the rope with both hands. Don't dangle, get
a foothold on the wall. Apply your rock-climbing skills,
Shion."
"Sorry, I've never gone rock-climbing before." He told
himself over and over to calm down. The smell of dirt that
tickled his nostrils gave him courage. It wasn't blood, or
vomit, or the stench of dying people. Shion inhaled a
breath of air. Nezumi climbed up ahead of him, as if to
show him by example.
"It's not much of a distance. Take your time on your
way up. It's much easier than climbing a mountain of
people."
"You can say that again," Shion replied. But it was
daunting task to climb a wall that rose almost
perpendicular from the ground. Shion felt like he was
struggling fruitlessly.
"Did the little mouse come up this way?" he asked.
"They've got their own routes. You really love mice,
don't you? Here, look, put your hand there, on the rock
that's sticking out―yeah. Now here: there's a groove,
right? Stay like that, and lift your body up."
 Guided by Nezumi's precise instructions, Shion tackled
the wall with all his concentration. It looked like Nezumi
was only holding the rope with one hand. Sometimes he
swayed unsteadily. The rope was probably not long enough
for them both to tie around their waists.
I'm much worse than a hindrance: I could be
endangering Nezumi's life. That's how powerless I am.
Shion was confronted with yet another reality.
I'm powerless. But―
'I need you.'
He tasted the words in his mouth thoroughly. They
were like an aphrodisiac. He could feel it quenching his
body. Shion dug his nails into the wall of dirt, and
continued inching his way up.
His fingers touched something hard. The moment he
noticed it, he felt himself being pulled up. When he fell
face-forward, out of breath, he felt the same sensation of
something hard on his cheek. It was also cold to the touch.
Is it... rock?
Cheep-cheep-cheep!
The lighthearted chirruping of little mice. He felt the
small animals scurrying over his back. Cravat and the rest
would often scurry across his back like this, in their bold
demands for food or play.
Shion got up carefully. He cautiously tugged the rope
bound around his waist. The other end was secured tightly
to a protruding rock. It was a strange one; there was a
round hole bored into the tip. The mouse had slipped
through this hole several times to bind the rope tightly.
Maybe it had been trained to do this. If it was, then was
this rock also a man-made object, placed like a moor for a
ship? He untied the rope, and coiled it around his arm.
He tried to hand the coil to Nezumi, but Nezumi didn't
look up from where he was squatting on the floor. His
breathing was laboured, despite how athletic he was. It
was no surprise. He had looked out for Shion, given him
instructions, and supported him throughout their climb
here. It had probably taken many times the energy it
would have cost him if he had climbed up by himself.
Shion's heart ached.
"Nezumi―I'm sorry. I―"
"Don't apologize." His voice, a little hoarser than usual,
cut Shion off. "You apologize for everything. I'm sorry, I'm
sorry, I'm sorry. What's apologizing gonna do to solve the
problem? All it does is cut your delicate and injured
conscience some slack."
"Yeah."
"Don't use words to excuse your guilt. Treat them with
more respect."
"Okay." He was right. No matter how many tens of
thousands of apologies he lined up, he wouldn't be able to
solve a single thing. From now on, he would swallow the
words that threatened to spill all too easily from his lips.
Before speaking words of apology, he would silently bear
the weight of his guilt.
He watched Nezumi's profile, whose lips were parted
in laboured pants, making his shoulders rise and fall.
Some day, I'll return the favour. You said you needed
me. I'll live up to it. I'll put my life on the line to protect
you.
"Oh―Nezumi."
"Shut up. I told you to stop apologizing."
"No, I meant to say... I can see your face."
"Idiot. Took you long enough to notice, didn't it? From
here on, we'll have a light. It's a small one, but still a
light. A splendid gift, don't you think?"
Shion looked around him. The place they were in was
slightly more spacious than a bed. The ground and walls
were cobbled with stones of all sizes, and a number of
them glowed with a white light.
"These are... LEDs..."
"Yeah. Light-emitting diodes. I'm guessing familiar
lighting for a No. 6 resident? It probably glows with a bit
more flourish in No. 6, though."
"What are LEDs doing here―?" Shion said perplexedly.
"The passage down there only had incandescent bulbs.
Nezumi, this is inside the Correctional Facility, isn't it?"
"We haven't gotten inside yet, unfortunately."
 "But―the wall we just climbed up was a natural one. It
wasn't man-made."
"Oh, so you noticed?" Nezumi said with an impressed
air.
"Even I could pick that up," Shion replied indignantly.
"If it was man-made, I wouldn't have been able to climb it,
even with your help. Either that, or it would have been
much easier. But that wall was neither. It had handholds
and footholds, but only just enough for me to manage the
climb―not by myself, though."
"Are you still insulted that you couldn't climb up by
yourself? Pretty sensitive, aren't you? Take injury to your
pride easily?"
"My pride practically aches right now," Shion said.
"Nezumi, what is this about? What is a natural cave doing
directly connected to the basement of the Correctional
Facility, an execution grounds?"
Nezumi stood up. A mouse had appeared on his
shoulder without him noticing. It was grey and small. Its
tail was a little longer than Cravat's.
"This place is a naturally-occurring series of caves,
huge and complex. No. 6 decided to use part of it as its
execution grounds. That's all there is to it."
"But these rocks aren't natural. This place is
man-made too, isn't it? But it's completely different from
the Correctional Facility. Which means it was made by the
hands of someone else―"
 Nezumi's hand reached toward him. Before he could
utter anything, it clamped over his nose.
"You talk too much. Shut up and follow me."
"Okay. Right behind you."
"Shion, is your curiosity stirred just as easily as your
pride? Your eyes are positively glowing."
Stir it certainly did. Curiosity thudded with a steady
heartbeat inside Shion. What was there? Hell wasn't the
only thing beyond this place. There was something else, a
world different from the hideous inferno.
What is it?
What's waiting?
Nezumi slowly walked down a steeply slanted slope.
His back floated dimly in the darkness.
A passage had been carved out of the boulders. The
ceiling was low, and it was impossible to get through
unless you crouched. Nezumi stopped once in a while to
catch a deep breath, his shoulders sagging. He looked like
he was having considerable difficulty.
Just as Shion opened his mouth to ask if he was
alright, Nezumi swayed, and leaned heavily against the
wall.
"Nezumi!"
He wondered if it was the same spell as last time.
Nezumi would collapse suddenly, and lose consciousness.
Shion thrust his hands out, expecting Nezumi to be
overcome by the same fit. But Nezumi didn't collapse. Still
leaning against the wall, he only murmured:
"It's come again."
"Huh?"
"Never mind―"
"Can you walk?"
"Of course. I've got legs. And much better ones than
yours at that."
Rejecting Shion's hand, Nezumi resumed his walk.
Shion gave his hand, which had been dangling without
anyone to accept it, a little shake, and moved forward as
well.
"This is―"
He widened his eyes. They were, indeed, in the heart
of a cavern. Rugged boulders protruded in some places,
but it was considerably spacious. It was too dark to see
into the corners. But it wasn't an inky darkness. Although
dim, there were lights. But they did not come from
light-emitting diodes.
"Candles?" There were a number of them lit in the
crevices of the boulders. Shion had encountered these
lights for the first time in the West Block.
"Nezumi, where―"
Is this? he had planned to finish, but the words stuck
in his throat. Nezumi's profile was rigid. His throat slowly
contracted as he swallowed. It was rare to see Nezumi so
on-edge.
"Something wrong? What's―"
"Shion, get down!"
Just as Nezumi yelled, Shion felt himself get shoved.
He fell backwards on his bottom. A black shadow whizzed
past his nose.
Scritch. Scritch.
He heard a sound like rusty cogwheels turning. It was
a voice.
Nezumi swung his hand. A black shadow bounced and
splayed at Shion's feet.
"Whoa!" He bent over backwards. It was a grey rat,
quite big. It looked like it had come from the sewers.
Screech, screech, screech.
One sewer rat after another attacked him. One leapt
onto Shion's shoulder, opened its mouth wide, and
attempted to sink its teeth into Shion's throat. He grabbed
it and hurled it. The rat smelled dank. A dull pain raced
through his arm next. There was a rat latching onto it.
Shion's hands moved before he could feel fear.
"Damnit!" He battered his whole arm against the wall.
Screech, screech.
The rusty, creaking sounds echoed. The rats were
crying out in alarm.
 Countless red lights were winking at him. From
crevices in the boulders all around, red eyes were looking
down on Shion. He was being surrounded by several
dozens of sewer rats. Their crimson gazes were directed
unblinkingly at the two boys, as if they were waiting for
the next opportunity to attack.
"Shion, you alright?"
"Of course."
"Just to let you know, imitating a cat isn't gonna scare
these guys off."
"I figured as much. The cat would probably get scared
off himself."
"That's some coarse welcome for someone they haven't
seen in a while."
"Huh? In a while?"
Nezumi brought two fingers to his lips, and whistled. A
variant melody, dancing high and low, flowed forth. It was
a song Shion had never heard before. It made him think of
a fog that drifted among a grove of trees in the dark. A
black-and-white movie played in his mind.
Scritch.
A single sewer rat squeaked from somewhere nearby.
It slowly approached them. Nezumi gently extended a
hand forth, and the rat nuzzled his fingertips. Nezumi's
fingers moved gently over its grey fur in a loving caress.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
 One more, then another, came down from the
boulders. Nezumi's eyes flitted to Shion for a moment.
Shion nodded deeply as a sign of assent. He crouched
down, and extended his hand like Nezumi had done.
Scritch.
A slightly smaller rat rubbed against his hand. Shion
scratched it between the ears.
Its red eyes narrowed. It was enjoying it.
Hey, he's not much different from Cravat.
The little mice used to love being petted between the
ears as well. Every night before he went to sleep, they
would always beg for it. Inukashi's dogs were the same.
They were always ecstatic when he gave their fur a
thorough brush.
"There there. There you go. Hey, wait. You want to be
scratched too?" Shion looked down to notice several rats
already sitting in his lap. They weren't as cute as the
mice, of course. But they did not make him afraid. There
was no trace of the aggression that they had showed
before. More and more rats climbed into his lap, and it
was starting to get heavy.
"Look at you," Nezumi said, cutting his whistling off to
shake his head slightly, "you could give the Pied Piper a run
for his money." Then he raised his chin, and glared into the
air. "Is this the last of your welcoming procession?" It was a
voice that rang out clearly. Nezumi's beautiful voice
echoed off the ceiling of boulders, and rang out still
further. It was like he was on a stage with top-class
acoustics.
"Show yourself. Your sewer rats aren't gonna do any
good."
A small rock rolled across the ground. The darkness
bristled in the crevices. As if to tear through it, a black
mass came falling down. It alighted without a sound.
The sewer rats scattered from Shion's lap. In a blink of
an eye, they melted out of sight into the darkness.
Is it a human...?
It looked like a human clad in a black cloak. When the
cloak flapped to expose what was underneath, Shion stood
up and held his breath.
A tall man of sturdy build was standing there.
Everything about the man was grey. The long hair that
reached down to his waist and the colour of his skin was
grey. The colour of his eyes which stared back at him were
grey. But they weren't a lustrous dark grey like Nezumi's.
They were the colour of sand. Grey was also the colour of
the desert. It rejected life, and accepted the lives of
others none too easily. It nurtured nothing, and changed
its shape with the wind. A vast and fruitless land. Whereas
Shion felt a vital energy from Nezumi, this man radiated
an air of a barren world.
"What did you return for?" The man spoke, barely
moving his lips. Shion felt a shiver run down his back,
though he did not know why. He gripped his own arm
tightly.
"You came back. That means you must die."
"Let me see Rou." Nezumi took half a step forward. "I
have something important to discuss. Let me see him."
The man also took half a step forward. "You must die.
Those are the rules."
He was the desert after all. There was no trace of life
in him. Shion's chill got worse.
"You must die. Those are the rules." He felt an icy
blast of wind coming from the man. Was it a hallucination?
Nezumi exhaled slowly. The darkness shifted above his
head.
Shion couldn't catch the moment when the man
moved, partly because it was dark. If they were immersed
in inky darkness, the man's grey body may have been
visible even just a little. But this dusky darkness, with only
a candle as its source of light, allowed the man to blend
easily into the background, and he was almost impossible
to see with Shion's level of eyesight. But the man's
movements would probably be difficult to follow even
under the blazing sun of noon. He was that swift. His grey
body glided and lunged at Nezumi. Nezumi rolled to the
side barely a moment earlier. The man's leg followed him,
swinging upwards in a kick, and Nezumi swatted it aside
with his hand. The man only lost his balance slightly
before regaining his posture and lunging at him soundlessly
again.
A sewer rat clambered onto Shion's shoulder.
Screech. Screech. Screech.
It raised its voice shrilly, and rubbed its paws together.
Whether it was merely spectating the fight between the
two humans or cheering for one of them, Shion didn't
know; but its voice was strangely excited.
"Can you see what's going on?"
Screech-screech-screech.
"You can see, huh. Nezumi―is Nezumi okay?" Shion
squinted desperately into the dim gloom. He could only
squint. He could only watch.
It was always like this. It had always been like this.
But―but I can't just let it end at that now. I have to do
something―anything.
The man had said Nezumi had to die. It wasn't mere
intimidation. Although the man's voice had been
emotionless and flat, it had been full of murderous intent.
He was really intending to kill Nezumi.
Screech-screech! Skrit-skrit-chit.
The sewer rat leaned forward and squeaked in an even
higher voice. Simultaneously, he heard the dull sound of
flesh hitting flesh. Nezumi sprawled at Shion's feet.
"Nezumi!"
 "Idiot! Don't come closer!" Nezumi curled up and
coughed. He hauled himself up unsteadily.
"What's wrong?" The man asked from beyond the
darkness, in the same flat voice. "Softened up a lot,
haven't you, during all the time you've spent above
ground?"
"Well, you might say I've―enjoyed my vacation a
little―too much." He could hear Nezumi gasping for air.
Shion stepped forward.
"Fool. It's no wonder you can't fight me; you can barely
even stand."
"Of course!" Shion was shouting. He wasn't able to
make out the man clearly. But he could still hurl words at
him. "How much strength do you think Nezumi had to use
to even get here? Try doing the same, whoever the hell
you are, before acting high and mighty. Try climbing that
wall―with a burden like me in tow."
He was met with silence. The sewer rat on Shion's
shoulder flicked its long tail lazily.
"What is he?"
"Just a burden," answered Nezumi.
"Why did you bring him here?"
"I want to introduce him to Rou."
"And then, what?"
"I want Rou to hear the story out."
 "His story?"
"Mine."
"No one here will lend an ear to a fool like you, who's
come crawling back and doesn't even know to hide his
shame."
"You don't know until you try." Nezumi drew up softly
beside Shion. It looked like Nezumi could see properly. For
him, this dim light was enough.
"Shion, listen," Nezumi whispered at his ear. "The gap
in the boulders right behind us. Narrow passage there.
Jump into it. And run."
"And you?"
"Never mind me. Go!" Shion was shoved on his chest.
He ran.
"Not so fast." The man's murderous intent bore down
upon him like a shockwave. Nezumi spoke a short
command.
'Go'... or was it 'run'?
Shion stopped and turned around. Two shadows were
wrestling with each other. He could see a blurry image
through the darkness. He could definitely see.
"Nezumi."
The man was straddling Nezumi, and had both hands
around his throat. Nezumi was writhing to get free. Shion
breathed fast and shallow.
 Nezumi is struggling?
He had never seen Nezumi this trapped, struggling this
hard.
You must die.
That was what the man had said. He had definitely
said it.
Shion lifted his wrist. The rope of special fibre was
wound around it. He wasn't thinking. His body had been
cut away from his soul, his brain, and was moving on its
own. No―maybe it was his soul commanding him.
Kill him.
The sewer rat leapt off Shion's shoulder. It darted into
the gap between the boulders that Nezumi had told him to
jump into. Shion didn't follow it. He was going to turn his
back on Nezumi's words.
Scree-scree-scree.
The sewer rats screeched in every direction from their
rocky perches. Their voices were wrung in apprehension
and fear. The man's movements froze. His gaze scoured
the area. His chin jerked upwards just slightly.
Shion leapt onto the man's back. He hooked the rope
under the man's chin, crossed it, and leaned backwards
with all his weight.
Gah!
The man writhed. Shion dug a foot into his shoulder,
and tightened the noose as far as it would go. Back when
he had tried to strangle the wretched man in the room
adjacent to the execution grounds, he had only had a
vague notion of what he was doing, and his thought
processes had been mostly numbed. But it was different
now. He was completely alert. His conscious was crisp and
clear. His intentions and thoughts were his own.
I'll kill him.
If you try to kill Nezumi, then you must be destroyed.
You are destined to be destroyed.
He pulled tighter.
The man's body bent back like a bow.
"Shion!" A yell resounded. It was a scream. A strangled
voice called his name.
"Shion! Stop―stop, please―" Nezumi pounced on him
from behind. "Stop, I'm begging you. Shion."
"Huh―?"
A pair of hands cupped his face firmly.
"Can you hear my voice?"
"Oh―yeah."
"Let go. Hurry. Loosen your grip."
He did what he was told. The man rolled over, and
tried unsuccessfully to get up. He remained on his knees,
coughing heavily. The air whistled through his
half-collapsed throat like a wind that whistled through a
wasteland.
 "Shion―I told you before. You're not made out to be an
executioner." Nezumi picked up the rope, and gripped it in
his hand. His lip was cut and painted with his blood. The
pair of red lips moved. "―or are you saying this is
salvation?"
"No."
"Then what? If you were trying to save me, it was none
of your business. Shion, don't ever pull a ridiculous stunt
like this again. This isn't something for you to do."
"It's punishment."
"What?"
"This is punishment."
"Punishment―what do you mean?"
"That man tried to kill you. So he paid the penalty."
"Shion, you―"
"I'll do the same thing again. If that man tries to kill
you, I'll do the exact same thing."
The man sat squatting on the ground, still wheezing,
clutching his throat.
"Who―is he?"
This time, Nezumi didn't answer. He looked down at
Shion silently. His fingers which held the rope were
trembling.
"He choked me," the man said in disbelief. "And I
didn't―I, out of all people―I didn't notice his presence."
 "Yeah―you sure didn't."
"I was choked from behind, and I couldn't escape."
"Yeah. You were flailing about like a rabbit in a trap."
"The rats were afraid of his presence."
"Yup."
The man shuddered. "Who... is he?"
"He's a resident of No. 6."
"No. 6? ―What is a resident of No. 6 doing here?"
Nezumi exhaled shortly. "Let me speak to Rou. I'll tell
him everything."
Shion sat listening to Nezumi and the man converse.
His palms finally began to throb in pain, from where the
rope had dug in.
"Let us hear your story."
A voice rained down from above their heads.
Shion raised his face and looked around. There was a
dark painted space in the darkness where even the light of
the candles didn't reach. The voice was coming down from
there. Just a sentence―
Let us hear your story.
With those words, it disappeared. There was no human
presence there.
"Much obliged," Nezumi sighed. The man stood up. He
staggered and disappeared between the boulders.
 "Let's go then, Shion."
"Oh― right." He stepped out into the darkness.
"Shion."
"Hm?"
"It's probably useless to say this, but―"
"Mm-hmm."
"I want you to stay as you are, Shion."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"The Shion I know would never commit a sin. Never."
Fight it, Nezumi murmured. "I want you to fight with
yourself."
It was a plea. His tone was strained and imploring.
Wasn't this the tone of voice that Nezumi himself despised
the most?
Shion closed his eyes.
Behind his eyelids, there was a darkness even deeper
than the one that spread before his eyes.

-- END OF CHAPTER --

Where did you come from? Where were you born?

***
CHAPTER 1
'Twere best not know myself

To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself.

Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou
couldst!
-Macbeth Act II Scene II [1]

He heard the sound of the wind. It was a dry, sorrowful

sound.
It can't be...
Shion stopped his feet, and blinked slowly. It was dark.
Even when his eyes were accustomed to darkness, the
gloom only reflected into his eyes as gloom, and was
entirely painted black. And of course, there was no wind
blowing.
Here, they were at the bottom of the earth.
A place in the bosom of No. 6―precisely, a place of
darkness. The basement of the Correctional Facility. Of
course there would be no wind blowing. There was no way
he could have even heard its sound. Yet he had definitely
heard a high-pitched whistling. It was for a mere instant,
but he had heard it.
It wasn't a sound he had heard before in No. 6, where
he had been living only a short while ago. It wasn't a
breeze that gently shook the abundant canopies, nor was
it something that wafted the sweet fragrance of flowers to
him. It was―
The wind of the ruins.
 It was the cry of the wind that whistled through the
remains of the dilapidated hotel in a corner of the West
Block. It was a cold wind. Every time he felt it against his
body, he remembered feeling like he'd been chilled to the
marrow of his bones. And indeed, people like the elderly
who collapsed on the road, unable to move, or children
who had been depleted of energy from starvation, were
whipped by this frigid wind and eventually froze to death.
It was a cruel and ruthless winter wind.
But he missed it.
He yearned many times more for the chilling wind that
swept through the ruins over the gentle, harmless breezes
in No. 6.
What was Inukashi doing now? Was he simmering
leftovers in the big pot, briskly making food for his dogs?
Was he busy tallying up his earnings for the day? Inukashi,
with his tan skin, ink-black hair and wiry body.
He had left a baby in Inukashi's care. He had thrust a
small infant boy upon him against his will.
Cut the crap, Shion. I'm operating a business here, my
hotel. I'm not running a non-profit orphanage.
Shion could imagine his face, scowling in disgust.
Sorry, Inukashi. I didn't have anyone else to depend
on. I had no other choice but to cling and beg for your
help.
Tsk.
 Inukashi clicked his tongue.
Pain in the ass wherever you go, aren't ya? Fine, I'll
take it. Even I have the heart to feel a bit of compassion.
But it's a tiny one, and even a dog would turn its nose up
at it. No choice, though. This baby's someone my own dog
has risked its life to protect. I can't just throw him
away.... Look at me, I'm a pushover. Makes me sick of
myself, even.
Inukashi, my gratitude.
Doesn't make me happy one bit to have any of your
gratitude. Doesn't give me any gain. Shion, I'll take the
baby for now. Got it? Only for now. You better come pick
him up. You decided to take this guy in. You gotta raise
him. Understand? You better come pick...
"Shion."
Nezumi turned around, and called his name. He could
clearly see the pair of lustrous grey eyes. Even in this
darkness, Nezumi's eyes both sucked light in, and released
it. Or― Shion let his thoughts wander.
Or could I still render those eyes, even if there was no
light, even if I was in complete darkness without a single
ray to illuminate my way?
"Don't stop walking. Keep right behind me."
"Oh―right. Sorry, I was spaced out a bit."
"Spaced out?"
 "I thought I heard the wind blowing. Like the wind that
used to blow against Inukashi's ruins... I know I'm just
hearing things, but―Nezumi."
"Hm?"
"I wonder what Inukashi's doing right now."
Nezumi blinked. Shion could make him out catching a
breath.
"You've got guts."
"Huh?"
"Not just anyone can space out in a situation like this.
There are probably tons of people who go into shock from
nerves, but to be able to hear the wind blowing, or
casually think about other people―that's colossal. The
amount of guts you have probably puts you in ranks with
the gods. You will let me worship you every day, won't
you, once in the morning and in the evening?"
"Are you being sarcastic?" Shion said flatly.
"Why, never," Nezumi said. "I haven't got the courage
to smart-mouth a god. I'm genuinely impressed. But―"
Shion was grabbed by the arm. It hurt. He felt
Nezumi's fingers digging into him. He knew how much
strength those fingers held, despite how slender and
almost delicate-looking they were. So many times Nezumi
had clenched his arm, making him wince in pain. So many
times he had grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Again
and again, countless times―from death to life, from
despair to hope, from fiction to reality, Shion had been
able to crawl up and out thanks to these fingers.
"From now on, be a bit more of an earthly coward.
Don't give a damn about Inukashi. Only think about
protecting yourself."
"Got it."
"―Do you really get it?"
"I do―probably."
"Probably, huh. Nothing reassures me less." Nezumi
gave a sudden laugh. It was small, but it was lighthearted
and filled with mirth. "Look at the conversation we're
having, in this place, in this situation. The epitome of
flippancy, I think, both you and me. Maybe I'd be able to
join the gods if I hang around you more."
Then his tone suddenly changed, into one that was
heavy and severe. His fingertips dug in with even more
force.
"No matter what happens, don't stray from me. Keep
up with your own strength. I told you before. I won't say it
again."
Shion nodded. Nezumi turned his back and resumed
walking, either having seen or felt the slight inclination of
Shion's head in reply. The figure before him wouldn't turn
back around as easily. Shion knew that well, too.
 If he wasn't desperate enough to live, if he didn't
greedily latch onto life, then Nezumi would not turn to
him.[2]
Nezumi would never revere a flippant and unobservant
god. Shion inhaled a breath of darkness, and placed his
foot forward.

A small path continued up a slight slope in the crack

between the boulders. It was just wide enough for an
adult to get through. It might even be narrower than the
former passageway, cased in concrete with small light
bulbs at equal intervals. It wasn't a long journey, but
twists and turns made it that much harder to walk
through.
But at least―
Shion wiped his sweat with the back of his hand.
But at least it doesn't smell like blood here.
The air was absent of the bloody stench that had filled
the other passageway. There were no screams or groans of
the dozens of people dying―being murdered.
There was only darkness.
Even if this were only to last for a short moment; even
if there was a reality beyond Shion's imagination waiting
for him beyond the darkness, as it had always done, he
would not have to breathe the stench of people being
unfairly and pitilessly obliterated.
 He was grateful. As if he had encountered an oasis in a
desert―he was grateful.
You're naive.
He chewed his bottom lip.
Nezumi didn't even have to tell him. He was so very
much naive.
I just can't smell it. I just can't hear it. I just can't see
because of the wall that divides us.
But it's still happening right beside me.
The reality that dozens of people―including
newborns―were being unfairly and pitilessly obliterated,
still existed on the same stretch of land that Shion stood
on, right here, right now.
Just because he couldn't smell it, just because he
couldn't hear, just because he didn't see, didn't mean that
it didn't exist. Just because he had arrived at an oasis, it
didn't mean the desert had disappeared.
I'm naive; I'm idealistic. He couldn't help but make
excuses. He couldn't help but try to forget the wrath he
had felt when he had witnessed the brutality. He wanted
to avert his eyes from grisly things. He was trying to curl
up and lend himself fully to the comfort of falling into an
ignorant slumber.
I am naive. And I am weak.
He traced the rocky wall with his hand, and did his
best to keep up with Nezumi.
 What was important right now was to follow him. And
I've always followed him. He had walked down a nighttime
path for the first time in the West Block. He had torn
through it, even. If it weren't for that experience, he
would probably not be able to walk through the oppressive
darkness now that seemed to crush his very eyeballs.
In that sense, I've toughened up a bit, he told himself.
Believe. You've got your own kind of strength stored up
inside you. Believe yourself wholeheartedly. It was easy to
fall back to self-loathing, and wallow in defeat―but it was
meaningless. Believing yourself was strength. With this
strength as fuel, as a weapon, one could overcome
innumerable difficulties.
Shion funnelled his concentration into the soles of his
feet, and moved forward one step at a time. He met a
light. It was dim. It was gradually beginning to lighten
before his eyes.
Nezumi's figure glided into that dim light as he
watched from behind. Shion quickened his pace.
"Oh―" his breath caught in his throat.
They had emerged into a spacious chamber. It was
much more spacious than where Nezumi and the
sand-coloured man had fought. The ceiling was lofty. It
looked almost three storeys high. The same rugged
boulders jutted out from all around.
This place is a naturally-occurring series of caves,
huge and complex. Nezumi had told him. Then this must
be a chamber that nature had created. Candles were lit
here and there in the crevices, and they were not the only
thing: lamplight also winked in some places. They were all
dim, but warm, sources of light. They were beautiful,
too―like small flame-coloured flowers blooming in the
alcoves of rock.
Alcoves?
Shion squinted. He baited his breath, and squinted as
hard as he could. He baited his breath more.
A shadow moved.
One, two, three, four.... They were not mice; those
were not small animals. Numerous shadows were moving
around. They stood on two legs, and were whispering to
each other. On two legs, whispering....
Humans!
The lump he had swallowed stuck in his throat. His
heart raced.
Humans. There are humans here. They're peering out
at us from the alcoves. Humans. If he squinted even more,
he could see a large cavern yawning its large mouth from
behind the lit candles in the crevices. So there were
tunnels even further on inside these caves. The people
had probably crawled out from there.
Shion couldn't make out each individual figure with his
eyesight, but he could tell that they varied in height and
build.
 Were there men and women, both adults and children?
All of them identically leaned forward, and were gazing
down upon them. Shion felt like he could see each
person's eyes glinting dully if he stared long enough.
"Nezumi, these people..."
"Who do you think they are?"
"Oh―survivors. They must be people like us, who've
managed to escape the execution grounds."
"Wrong." Nezumi shook his head. It was a languid
gesture, unusual for him. "They've lived here way before
that."
"Way before... what do you mean?"
"You'll see in a bit."
'You'll see in a bit'―I guess you're right.
You will see. As long as you have the will and the
strength.
Shion clenched his fist. It was easy to question. He had
always been asking questions up until now. He had always
instantly, so easily, begged Nezumi for the right answer
without trying to decode the reality that appeared before
his eyes.
It won't work anymore.
He would find the answer himself. He would grasp it.
He would decode it. Other people were other people,
even someone as close as Nezumi. He would not be able to
render the truth if he kept leaning on other people's
words. He would not be able to face off with a reality that
surpassed his imagination. He would not be able to stay
equals with Nezumi.
He had to render it himself.
Nezumi dropped his gaze from Shion. His grey eyes
clouded over. Clearing it away with a blink, Nezumi swept
his hand aside in a smooth gesture. It was a graceful move
unique to him.
"Look, isn't it spectacular? Everyone has turned out for
the welcoming parade."
"Famous even in a place like this, aren't you?"
"―Idiot. Shion, this is your welcoming."
"Mine?"
"You're the spectacle here. It's unheard-of for an
outsider to come bursting in. And a No. 6 resident at
that."
"Former resident," Shion corrected. "I'm not one
anymore. I threw my ID card away a long time ago. I'm not
a citizen of that city."
"Don't get hung up about it. It was just a form of
expression."
"I will be hung up," Shion said stubbornly. "It isn't 'just'
an expression. I'm not as weak as you think. I'm not
attached to No. 6."
Maybe it was bravado. But Shion squared his shoulders
the best he could.
 I am weak. My mind and body are all too fragile. But
nothing can shake my resolve. Nothing can confuse my
feelings. My resolve to live not within, but outside the
city; my feelings of wanting to live together with you;
nothing can shake them, nothing can muddle them.
"Who said you were weak?"
"You always say so."
"Never. You're a superpower. You just overwhelmed me
with your brilliance back there. It's quite something... I'm
even more impressed now. I certainly am." Nezumi
shrugged. "And I would never have thought you would trip
me up at every petty word and start complaining about it.
In this situation much less."
Skrit, skrit, skrit.
A sewer rat crawled up Shion's body, and sat on his
shoulder. It was quite heavy compared to Hamlet or
Cravat. And it smelled rotten. But it twitched its nose and
tilted its head to the side in the same way. Another one
crawled onto his other shoulder. It stuck its head into
Shion's snowy hair, and nuzzled its face into it. Yet another
one―this time, a baby rat―rubbed itself against his feet.
One more came, and still another.
The rats scurried up and down Shion's body, chirruping
affectionately.
Skrit, skrit, skrit, cheep cheep cheep.
Chit chit chit. Chit chit chit.
 "Hey, cut that out," said Shion, suppressing a laugh.
"I'm not a playground slide. Stop that, it tickles!" Shion
gave his body a shake.
The air buzzed. The darkness rippled uneasily. Shion
could feel the presence of the rock dwellers: breaths
sucked in, inaudible whispering, shifting bodies, furtive
glances.
"An intriguing child."
A voice came raining down from above. It was a low
voice, but it rang out clearly. It wasn't quite the level of
Nezumi's singing, but it was deep, soothing, and flowed
into his ears comfortably. Was it the same voice as a few
moments ago? The voice that had come floating down
from the black painted void?
'Let us hear your story.' Was it the same voice as that?
He looked up.
He saw a figure of a man seated in a chair in the
middle of an alcove, in a spot that was jutting out like a
balcony. At least... he thought it was a man. It looked
like... an elderly man with long white hair and a long
white beard, clad in a long gown-like garment. It was too
dark to get a good look at his face.
"An intriguing child. You haven't stirred any animosity
or apprehension in the mice. Shall I ask you your name?
What are you called?"
"I'm Shion."
 "Shion―ah, a beautiful name."
"Th―Thank you. For, um, complimenting me," Shion
stammered. "And you are?"
"Me? What about me, Shion?"
"What is your name?"
Buzz.
The darkness rippled even more fiercely. The rats
chattered on his shoulders. Laughter rose. From alcoves in
every direction, various kinds of laughter rose, and
showered down upon Shion.
Giggle, giggle, giggle.
Name, he says.
Giggle, giggle, giggle.
He asked for his name.
Giggle, giggle, giggle. Giggle, giggle, giggle. Giggle,
giggle, giggle. Giggle, giggle, giggle.
He had no idea why he was being laughed at. He had
only asked for the man's name. Why was that a cause for
such derision?
Giggle, giggle, giggle. Giggle, giggle, giggle.
The laughter didn't cease. Shion turned to look at
Nezumi, who was standing at his side.
Nezumi stood unmoving. He wasn't smiling. Naturally.
No expression adorned his face. He was like a statue.
 "Rou." A deep voice pierced through the rippling
darkness. The noise in the caverns was silenced
immediately. An almost painful stillness fell, like one you
encountered in a forest when all the winds had died. In
this stillness, only the elder's words unfolded leisurely.
"Rou. That is what I am called."
"Rou―that's your name?"
"Perhaps, perhaps not. It may only mean 'old person'."
"So this is not your real name?"
Some moments of silence.
"Young one. No one here places importance on names.
No one. Has Nezumi not taught you that?"
Come to think of it―
Shion exhaled.
Come to think of it, I still don't know Nezumi's real
name.
"Rou." Nezumi moved. He had taken a step forward. "I
want you to hear our story."
"Let us hear it." The elder straightened his posture in
his chair. "You have returned. We were never supposed to
meet again, yet you have appeared again before my eyes.
Let us hear the reason."
"I'm grateful."
"Grateful? Nezumi, I see you have been grown weak
and cowardly from being buffeted by the wind outside.
But no matter how weak and cowardly you have become, I
hope you have not forgotten the rules."
"Of course not."
"Those who have left this place must never return. You
have broken that taboo. You must recompense."
"I know. I'll pay the penalty. So listen to me, please."
The elder snapped his fingers. Although Shion had not
noticed this before, two long poles were attached to the
legs of the elder's chair. It was perhaps better called a
palanquin than a chair.
Two men held the poles and hoisted the elder along
with the palanquin.
His legs​?
There was nothing filling out the lower part of the
elder's gown. The hem hung lifelessly. The elder had lost
his legs from the knees down. Both of them.
The palanquin with the elder in it began to descend
from the boulders slowly, as if slithering down the wall. A
shadowy figure, whose long hair was bound in a
ponytail―a woman, evident from the outline of her
body―was sweeping the path in front of the palanquin
with what looked like a broom. She was like a forerunner
for a procession.
There was a path. A path just wide enough for people
to brush shoulders as they passed. The slope was steep,
yet the men walked steadily down it, without missing a
step.
It was not something naturally-occurring. Walkways
had been carved into the boulders by human hands. If he
looked closely, paths spanned all along the rocky walls;
perhaps it was structured so that people could come and
go freely.
Is this... a settlement?
Shion took in his surroundings anew. At the same time,
he set his brain to work. Caverns, which were no doubt
residences; paths on the boulder walls; this chamber; the
dark space that continued beyond this chamber―and he
could almost smell something being boiled or stewed. And
faintly, very faintly, he could feel a wind. Which meant
the air was moving, and this place was connected to
ground-level. Here was a settlement of humans.
An underground settlement?
He restrained his thoughts, which threatened to stray
every which way. He organized them, and searched for a
coherent thread.
Nezumi had said that these residents of the dark were
not people who had survived the Hunt. It was perhaps so.
An underground world, where no sunlight would reach,
would be too harsh of a condition for people to live in.
Humans were organisms that were adapted to life above
ground. It seemed implausible that one could keep living
in a place where there was barely any change in amount
of sunlight, air current, and natural surroundings. But
before his eyes were those very people themselves, and
the signs of human residency.
The scene before him was clearly not something that
had been created overnight. He could gather that much.
Had these people lived underground for a long, long time,
having established their settlement, and gradually
adapted this way? It was the only guess he could come up
with.
Shion unconsciously let out a long sigh.
Remember this place. The basement of the
Correctional Facility. What is a settlement doing here? Is
it a coincidence?
Maybe...
Shion's thoughts emitted frustrated sparks inside his
head. No matter how much he thought about it, he wasn't
able to grasp it. He couldn't set foot outside of the
boundaries of speculation. But that was also why he
thought harder. He speculated. He devised theories of
"what-if"s. Desperately.
What if people had been living in this place for much
longer―this place that had been a series of large caves
from the very beginning?
Aboriginals...
What if there had been people living on this land long
before the birth of the nation-state of No. 6?
 The West Block area had once been a small but
beautiful town. Many kinds of people, Rikiga included, had
resided there. His mother had been there. And his
father―though he had no memory of him or his face―had
also been there. The town had mutated, and became the
mother from which No. 6 was born. Except it wasn't the
town that had changed, it was the people. Under human
hands, the massive walls of special alloy and the enormous
city-state had been born. Outside of the walls, the
remnants of the town became a barren wasteland known
as the West Block. But that was only the west side.
Was the western town the only place No. 6 had
destroyed? What about the northern mountains, the
forests, the grassy plains that stretched from south to
east, the lakes and marshes that dotted the land from
eastern to western edge? Considering No. 6's geographical
area, it was logical to think that it had enlarged in all four
directions, proliferating and expanding...
A chill ran down his spine.
In the northern mountains, the southern plains, the
eastern marshes. Somewhere, a race of peoples unknown
to Shion had once lived. And not only one race. In the
mountains, forests, and plains, people had carried on their
lives. In these caverns, too....
Aboriginals. A people who had taken up residence in
the caves from a time dating far back.
They had been people of a different kind of world
than the town Rikiga and his mother had lived in; they had
probably stayed in their own territory, as the "town
people" lived in theirs, and had not had any contact with
them. Perhaps neither group was even aware of the
other's existence.
This stretch of land had once been a sprawling forest.
On this planet, there were only six regions which fulfilled
the conditions adequate for human life.
People built towns in those regions, and those towns
eventually grew into city-states. Learning from history's
moral lesson, they had abolished civil wars between the
states. They agreed that a ban on all military power was
the bottom line for the continued survival of mankind, and
so, they had acted in accordance with the Babylon Treaty,
which called on the abandonment of all armies and
weapons. Also in accordance, each city had discarded its
unique name, and adopted a simple number as its
title―from No. 1 to No. 6.
The six cities, while still respecting the uniqueness
and independence of each, nevertheless maintained
strong ties, and were acknowledged to be part of one
nation; both political leaders and the populace agreed
that this was the mindset each and every one should have.
These lands are the only things left to us. Further
destruction is not permissible. War is evil. It leads
everything to extinction. It threatens our very existence.
We must abandon all weaponry for the future of
humankind.
 Under this ideology, we shall found six cities linked in
friendship and understanding.
From No. 1, to No. 6.
The sixth region had been blessed with natural
conditions more favourable than any other. Everything was
utilized to the fullest―nature's bounties, human
intelligence, and scientific technology―to build this
utopian city, one rarely found throughout history.
This was the birth of the Holy City of No. 6.
That was an outline of the history Shion had learned as
an elite candidate in his perfectly-equipped classroom.
His chill had gotten worse. He felt like he was frozen
right down to his fingertips.
If he closed his eyes―but even with them open―he
could see images of the Hunt flashing in the back of his
mind. It was reality. Those were scenes he had seen with
his own eyes.
Barracks had been blown apart; tents had been torn
down. Frantic, fleeing people had been ruthlessly
murdered. Men and women, both elderly and young, and
even infants had been indiscriminately vaporized. The
most modern weapons had attacked people who could
only retaliate by throwing rocks. It was a massacre if
anything.
'Abandon all weaponry' indeed.
 He had been biting his lip without thinking. The bloody
taste spread inside his mouth. He swallowed it with his
spit. He did not know about the other cities. But―but...
At the very least, he knew that No. 6 was on its way to
becoming an armed state with overwhelming military
power.
Since when?
He swallowed his bloody saliva again.
When did that city start to change? When did it begin
to stray from the policies and ideals of the Babylon
Treaty? Since when... since the beginning?
Shion felt a gaze on him. His eyes met with Nezumi's.
He felt like he was being wrapped in an elegant grey
cloth. The core of his body pulsated. All the thoughts that
had been swirling around in his head came to a full stop.
A moment of pleasure.
It was strange. Just the kind of light in Nezumi's eyes
was enough to make him feel like he was being pushed
away or being embraced.
But now was not the time to be giving himself up to
selfish and indulgent emotions. People were easily swayed
once they ceased to think. They were too easily led along
by the flow of other people's words and the mindset of the
times.
 Nezumi would never embrace and protect anyone who
avoided thinking, who let himself simply be pushed along
with the flow.
And besides, Shion thought as he lifted his chin. I don't
want to be protected by him. I haven't abandoned my
thoughts. I'll keep decoding the world around me and its
workings in my own way. I will confront the world in its
true form, and look reality in the eye. That's probably
something you would call a battle, Nezumi.
Shion dropped his gaze from Nezumi, and meditated.
He set his thoughts in motion again.
Since when?
From the beginning?
Yes, from the beginning. Perhaps No. 6 had been
removed from ideologies of peace and co-existence from
the very moment of its birth.
On this land, there had once been a people that had
lived here long before. No. 6 had invaded them. They had
tried to dominate them in the same way a starving beast
devoured its prey and gnawed on its bones. By doing so, it
had expanded its boundaries, and established its
foundations as a city-state. Peace? Co-existence? It had
laughed contemptuously in face of these words, and with
brute force, made the surrounding areas its own.
Just as it had destroyed the West Block. Just as it had
massacred its people. Using overwhelming military force.
 But still... what about the other thing?
LEDs―light-emitting diodes. LEDs lit up when electric
current was applied to the joint between two special
semiconductors. They were man-made lights that didn't
exist in the natural world. Scientifically manufactured
lights. Were they not things that No. 6 had created?
Or―or, rather, had some scientific civilization existed
which was at par with, or even more advanced than No. 6?
But if that was so, the civilization would probably not
have been invaded so easily. He did know that science was
neither all-solving nor almighty, however....
He didn't know. It was like walking in a fog. No matter
how much he pondered and contemplated, no matter how
far he stepped in, he never reached the truth. The more
he thought, the further he ventured, the more lost he
felt. He couldn't get out of the labyrinth. His thoughts
wandered aimlessly.
He was frustrated.
Cheep.
The rat jumped down from Shion's shoulder. The little
mice also hid themselves in the boulder cracks.
What's wrong?
As Shion's gaze started to follow the little mice, he
was suddenly attacked from behind. A shadow twisted his
arm up behind him. His mouth was gagged. In the blink of
an eye, he was bound up with rope. He was shoved from
behind. He fell with his hands still tied behind his back.
He rammed his shoulder on the ground.
 "What was that for?" he shouted.
"Shion, keep quiet." Nezumi, also kneeling in ropes,
shook his head at him. "Don't resist. Stay quiet."
"But why―ow! The rope really hurts!"
"Let your body relax. Breathe out and loosen up. It'll
feel a bit better."
He did as he was told. Nezumi was right―he felt a bit
better. Pretty amazing, though. Capturing and binding us
in a matter of seconds―oh, but still―
"Not as good as you."
"What?"
"You'd have a better handle on it. Whether it be a
rope, or a knife."
"Why, thanks for the compliment. I'm undeserving of
the privilege, really, to be complimented by you."
"I'm always in awe at your―gh." The rope dug into his
neck. His breath caught in his throat.
"Do not speak." A flat voice hissed at his ear.
Was it that man? The man with sandy-grey hair, skin,
and eyes?
"Any more idle chatter, and I will wring your neck."
The rope tightened. He really felt like his neck was
being wrung. His airway caved in from the pressure. He
felt like he was suddenly swelling from the neck up. He
couldn't breathe. It was painful.
 "Knock it off," Nezumi said quietly. "Revenge for what
happened back there? Taking your frustrations out on an
unresisting human? I see you've picked up some low habits
while we haven't seen each other, Sasori."
The rope loosened. For an instant, Shion didn't know
what was happening. He threw himself out on the ground,
and dissolved into a fit of coughing. He heard the sound of
flesh hitting the ground as if it were crawling across it. He
raised himself.
Nezumi was crumpled beside him. The man's foot
landed on his shoulder. He was wearing sandals that were
woven out of what looked like thin strips of bark.
"You too, Nezumi." The man's voice grew leaden.
"Enough of your insolent complaints. Do you not
understand your place? Then it is only a matter of making
you understand."
The man's foot moved to kick Nezumi's shoulder.
"You are the ones who have trespassed from outside.
You have no right to protest if you get killed."
"Stop!" Shion twisted and yelled. Nezumi lifted his
face, and shook his head as if to tell him to shut his
mouth. But he could not.
"You coward! You're just as Nezumi says. Tying us up
and making it so that we can't fight back, and then
beating us―it's low, it's filthy!"
 "Shion." Nezumi grimaced. Several streams of blood
ran from his temple down his cheek. Shion clenched his
stomach, and stared up at the man.
"What is this place? No. 6?"
"No. 6, you say?" The man's whole body quivered. His
sand-coloured eyes glinted sharply. The light seemed
almost murderous. But Shion was not about to be silenced.
He was also trembling, but not with fear. It was with
wrath. Wrath boiled within him.
"It's true. You're just the same. What you're doing is no
different from No. 6. You oppress the weak by force. You
inflict pitiless violence. How are you guys any different?"
"I'm not really weak, just saying," Nezumi shrugged
with his hands still tied behind his back. "Shion, I get what
you're trying to say. Just leave it at that. Say any more,
and you'll be kicked to death. Kicking is this old man's
specialty."
"I will kill you," the man growled. "You are a demon. A
wicked bringer of misfortune. If I do not dispose of you
now, you will only bring catastrophe upon us."
"A sharp eye, Sasori," Nezumi sighed exaggeratedly.
"You're spot on. A catastrophe, indeed. Of the highest
class."
"Nezumi, what do you mean 'catastrophe'? ...You mean
I am?"
"You are," Nezumi chuckled lightheartedly.
 "He is evil," the man continued. "He wears a demonic
aura like a cloak, and carries misfortune wherever he
goes. I can tell. Nezumi, you said he was a resident of No.
6."
"Former resident, to correct you. He was inside the
city up until just recently."
"That must be why he is so evil. He is... like No. 6
itself."
Nezumi narrowed his eyes. The tip of his tongue licked
the blood on his lips.
"No. 6 itself, huh.... I see. That's how he appears to
you."
"I know," the man answered. "I can tell. I must kill him.
I must dispose of him before it is too late. If not..." The
man took a step forward. Shion shrank back without
thinking. The man was radiating such a murderous intent
that he could not help but recoil.
He's serious....
This man is serious about killing me.
The man took another step forward, but suddenly spun
in a somersault and crashed to the ground. Nezumi had
tripped him.
Nezumi was up in a flash. The ropes slid to the ground.
It was like a magic trick. In his hand was a small knife.
The man tried to get up, but was stopped by Nezumi's
knee digging into his stomach. The man let out a muffled
groan. He bent backwards from the pain, leaving his
throat defenseless; a blade was soon pushed up on it.
"We worked hard to get here. I won't have you
disposing of him that quickly."
"Why... did you bring... such catastrophe?" choked the
man. "Do you plan to destroy us all?"
"The opposite." Nezumi's lips curled. "I want to send
No. 6 to its grave. That's why I brought him."
"No. 6? Does that boy have the power to?"
"Who knows. We don't know until we try. I can't let you
kill him before we even test it out. That jealousy of yours,
by the way: a little embarrassing, don't you think?"
"Jealousy?"
"Yeah. You're jealous of Shion. He's got your rats in the
palm of his hand like it's nothing. You're jealous. Am I
right?"
There was a heavy grinding sound. The man was
gnashing his teeth.
"Nezumi... just as unpleasant as you used to be. It
irritates me. I will strangle you to death first."
"What a splendid promise. I can't wait. But before
that―" The wan smile disappeared from Nezumi's mouth. A
drop of blood that had slid down his chin dripped on the
man's chest, and coloured it red. "Let's have you swear,
Sasori. Swear that you'll never lay a finger on Shion again."
 The blade of the knife jerked. The man's throat
contracted as well.
"Swear it."
The man fell stubbornly silent.
"That is enough." A gentle voice rang out. It even held
a hint of a laugh. "You have not changed, Nezumi. Neither
your skill with the knife nor your sarcastic way with words
has deteriorated. I daresay it seems to have become even
more polished."
The elder on the palanquin was smiling with the same
benign air as his voice. The palanquin was lowered
steadily.
"Rou."
"You have grown. I can barely recognize you. I would
never have thought I could encounter you as a grown
man."
Nezumi released the man and knelt down. The knife
spun once in his hand before disappearing. This too, was
like witnessing a magic trick. The man muttered
something, and gnashed his teeth some more. Rats raced
over Shion's lap.
"I believed that you had left long ago for a land far
away. Did I not command you to do so? To leave this place
behind, forget everything, throw everything away, and to
live freely?"
"Rou, please listen to me."
 "You should never have returned. Regardless of what
happened, you should never have come back."
"I can't be free." Nezumi clenched his fingers hard. "As
long as No. 6 exists, I can't be free. I can't forget it, nor
can I throw it away."
"Nezumi."
"You should know. No. 6 still exists. It's still here. How
can I be the only free one? It's impossible."
"I have told you not to become trapped. I have told
you to live unfettered. If you did not, you would not be
able to survive; I understood this well. That was why I
released you into the outer world. But to think that you
would come back..."
"I've realized."
"Realized?"
"I've realized your words were nothing but white lies."
The air wavered in agitation. Voices which were barely
voices traversed between the people nestled in the rocky
walls, looking down at them.
"Your words were white lies. False. There was no way I
could live without being trapped. On the contrary, I had to
be trapped. Even if I deceived myself, pretending I was
free, I would still be in chains anyway. From now on, I'll
acquire real freedom with my own hands. I'll set myself
free. That's why I came back."
"Is this freedom you speak of fighting with No. 6?"
 "It means fighting and winning. Erasing it clean from
this land. The day I see the Holy City arrive at its end is
when I'd be free for the first time. I'd be able to live a
truly free life. I would be able to leave this place... of my
own will."
"Nezumi!" Shion yelled without thinking. As he yelled,
grabbed Nezumi's shoulder. "What do you mean by that?
Leave this place? What―"
"Shion." Nezumi's eyes blinked rapidly. "The rope...
how did you―?"
"Huh?"
"The ropes. How did you get out of them? You don't
have a knife on you."
"What? Oh, the rats chewed them apart for me."
"The rats? No way, you must be―"
Shion thrust an end of the rope to Nezumi, and waved
it before his eyes.
"Look. They all chewed at it together. It happened in
no time. Impressive, isn't it?"
Nezumi's eyes flitted to the jagged end of the chewed
rope before furrowing his brow.
"You have that much control over those rats?"
"Me? No, of course not. I couldn't pull tricks like that.
The rats did it on their own. They're all very kind and
intelligent," Shion said proudly.
 "Kind and intelligent, huh. So your rats chew apart the
ropes their master has tied. He's right; they are kind and
intelligent. You've trained them to be very well-behaved,
Sasori."
The man―the sand-coloured man called Sasori―only
fidgeted a little, and didn't reply. Instead, the elder let
out a short breath.
"Enough sarcasm, Nezumi. It is a bad habit of yours. It
seems your tendencies have not changed, despite how
much you have grown physically. A problem, indeed."
There was warmth in the elder's tone. He was like a
father smiling exasperatedly over his child's antics. His
voice radiated with the source of its warmth―love.
This man felt tenderness for Nezumi.
Shion gazed at the elder on his palanquin. This is my
first time, he thought. It was his first time meeting
someone who expressed a peaceful and warm attitude to
Nezumi.
Nezumi had always been alone. He had always lived
alone. There was never anyone by his side. He didn't let
anyone approach him. Shion yearned for Nezumi in his
own way, and he was also entranced by Nezumi's
resilience, litheness and beauty. He hoped to remain by
Nezumi's side. These feelings certainly existed inside him
as unmovable fact; however, it was also fact that he was
uncertain of what name to give those feelings.
 Admiration, friendship, deference, love.... He was
uncertain; he couldn't help it.
But what he felt from the elder on the palanquin was
definite affection. It was like a parent bestowing affection
upon a child.
To think Nezumi had someone like this.
"Shion," the elder called.
"Yes."
"Come here."
"Yes, sir."
"Wait," Sasori stepped forward and grabbed Shion's
arm. "Rou, this boy is dangerous. He is cloaked in evil. You
cannot let him near you."
"Evil―this boy?"
"He is not just a boy. He is a demon. He will destroy
everything. I can see it. Why can you not, Rou?"
It was hard not to get angry when this much was being
said about him. Shion tried to shake off the hand that held
his arm. Sasori's fingers showed no signs of moving, and
squeezed even harder, choking its hold.
"I see no problem. Bring Shion here."
"Rou."
"I see no problem. Good and evil, virtue and
wickedness, truth and lies―they are all very similar. So
similar, in fact, that it is often hard to tell them apart.
True, is it not, Nezumi?"
"I see what you're saying."
"It is a boy whom you have brought. Surely he is
neither entirely wicked, nor entirely virtuous. Now, Shion:
here, if you will."
The fingers drew away from his arm. Sasori retreated
a few steps, growling lowly. His sand-coloured limbs
blended into the darkness. Shion approached the
palanquin slowly. Several rats scurried around his feet.
The elder had clear, dark eyes. They harboured a
twinkling light as he gazed unflinchingly at Shion.
This man....
Shion felt like this man was younger than he had
originally thought. He had assumed―from the man's name
as "elder" and the white hair that framed his face―that he
was an aged man. But the strength of the light in his eyes
was not that of an ageing person.
The elder raised his hand. It was thin and pale.
"Your head."
"I'm sorry?"
"Will you let me touch your hair? It is a rather odd
colour."
Shion crouched, and bowed his head forward. The
elder reached and gently ran a hand through his hair in a
circular motion. It tickled a little. Shion felt a little
sheepish, like he was being patted on the head.
"Why?" the elder said, with added heaviness to his
voice. His voice trailed off hoarsely. Its gentleness was
gone; now it sounded tense.
"Why has your hair―"
"It's not only his hair." Nezumi strode purposefully
forward. "Shion, show him your red snake."
"Huh? No way."
"Why not?"
"I'd have to take off my clothes. I don't want to be
naked in front of so many people."
"Dumbass," Nezumi clicked his tongue. "What kingdom
are you from, Princess? This isn't the time to be a blushing
maiden. Quickly! Show him what you've had to endure."
Nezumi's fingers flipped his shirt up. Shion hastily
recoiled.
"I get it! I'll do it myself. I don't need help undressing."
"Is that so? I'm impressed. Worthy of praise."
Nezumi's eyes were not as buoyant as his voice. They
were tense and sharp. Shion cast his shirt aside, and took
another half-step towards the elder.
The elder drew a breath. His trembling fingers traced
the crimson band that had scarred his chest.
"These... these scars..."
 Nezumi jerked his chin as if to encourage Shion.
Can I tell him?
"These marks, why―" the elder said. "No, it couldn't
be..."
"They're from a parasite wasp."
"Parasite wasp," the elder repeated.
"They feed off humans. They ultimately kill their host
before hatching. I―was able to survive. The result of it are
these scars, and my blanched hair."
The elder's mouth twisted. His eyes, set in his face
among countless wrinkles, glittered unnaturally bright.
Nezumi grabbed Shion's shoulder roughly.
"Rou, No. 6 will disintegrate. One day, it'll crumble not
only from the outside, but from its own powers working
inside. These are the first signs."
"A parasite wasp which lodges in humans... I see...
they have begun to appear inside the city."
"Yeah. And apparently out of sudden coincidence.
They appeared unexpectedly; even the guys holding the
reins of No. 6 couldn't predict it. Several citizens have
died in strange ways. The authorities haven't been able to
prevent it. I don't see them desperately trying to, either.
Maybe they don't have a grasp of how serious the situation
is yet. They've become complacent."
"Complacent..."
 "They're complacent because they think the world will
run according to their plans. They're arrogant enough to
believe that they can be a universal and omnipotent
ruler... they've been blinded by their own delusions, and
can't see the truth of reality. They're losing the eyesight to
see through the facade."
Even when it seemed to scrape across the ground,
Nezumi's voice nevertheless reached the ears of his
listeners crystal clear. In the darkness, only his low,
resounding voice filled the air.
"Things are still quiet inside the city. They're still
managing to maintain peace and daily routine. But it's like
a cup that's been filled to the brim with water, about to
spill over any second. It's maintaining its balance, but
barely."
"One has only to stimulate it slightly, and everything
will spill over... is that what you mean?"
"It would burst. It would destroy the cup and come
gushing out."
The elder muttered something softly. Then, he locked
his fingers together as if in prayer.
"Let us hear it, then―everything, from the beginning."
A pair of glittering eyes trained steadily on Shion.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 2
Who did see him die?
 Who did kill cock Robbin?
I, said the sparrow,
With my bow and arrow,
And I did kill cock Robbin.
Who did see him die?
I, said the fly,
With my little eye,
And I did see him die.
-Mother Goose [1]

The man was gazing at the gold coin Inukashi had given
him with fascination.
"It's real," Inukashi whispered to the man's profile,
with its thin and jutting chin. He dropped his voice into a
hush to make himself sound as intimidating as possible.
"It's real gold... is it?" The man's Adam's apple bobbed
up and down.
"Look at it for as long as ya need to. It's the real thing,
no matter which way ya look at it."
"Y-Yeah... you're right, it's real..."
"It's yours." This time, Inukashi spoke a little quicker,
like he was thrusting the words onto him. The man's chin
trembled.
"Mine?"
"Yeah. Yours. I'll give it to ya."
 "What? But―ah―a whole gold coin, it's so much
money―"
"Of course, I'm not saying it's for free. I'm not a
do-gooder with money to spare. I'll give this to you as
payment for a job. How about it?"
"Job?"
The man's eyes shifted from the gold coin to Inukashi.
His eyes were round, like some frightened pet animal. A
shade of suspicion flitted across them.
Here it comes.
Inukashi clenched his fist.
This is the crucial moment. I won't give this guy any
room to think. I won't let any suspicion sneak into his
thoughts. I'll wave the gold in front of him, and tantalize
him. It's gold, man, gold. Not something he'd be able to
lay his eyes on often. Not to mention, this guy wants
money, needs money... but then, I don't know who
wouldn't want money, unless they were dying.
You just had to dangle the other's most desired object
in front of his nose. You had to ensnare him with crafty
words. You would chase him into a corner so he wouldn't
be able to escape. You would do it thoroughly, and with
skill. All he had to do was trace Nezumi's way of doing it.
He's done it to me enough times for me to get sick of it.
Heh.
 He felt like he could hear Nezumi chuckle. He could
even see Nezumi's unique ironic smile.
See, you can do it just as I taught you. Good boy. I'll
give you a treat later.
Shut up, Nezumi. Just to let you know, I'm not
undertaking this to help you. It's for the gold bullion. I'm
crossing the perilous bridge so I can lay my hands on that
gold bullion.
He shook his head to dispel the illusion.
Stop popping into my head like that, asshole.
"Job... what do you mean?"
"A job is a job. I'm asking you to do a job. For a gold
coin."
Inukashi snapped his fingers smartly. The man blinked.
The shade of suspicion in his eyes grew more pronounced.
The man was called Getsuyaku. His job was managing
the cleaning duties at the Correctional Facility. He was
Inukashi's acquaintance. A while had passed since Inukashi
had first started receiving his stock of Facility waste and
leftover food from Getsuyaku. Of course, it was an
under-the-table transaction; it was smuggling. About once
every three days, Inukashi received a portion of leftover
food and waste, and handed Getsuyaku an amount that
was appropriate for the load. It was usually a few copper
coins. If there was a considerable find, a silver coin.
 But this was probably the first time they had
exchanged so many words with each other. It was always
only a couple words, things like: "This is it"; "Thanks. Your
payment, then"; "Right"; they didn't even count as
conversations, and they didn't make eye contact either. It
had always been this way.
Getsuyaku was in charge of managing and incinerating
the waste produced by the Correctional Facility, as well as
operating the cleaning robots inside. In a small room
adjacent to the waste collection area and the incinerator,
he spent the whole day alone, operating machines.
"When I'm here, I don't say a word all day. I don't see
anyone, I don't talk to anyone. It's really lonely. Sometimes
I can't tell if I'm still a human, or becoming a machine
myself." One day, on a rare occurrence, Getsuyaku had
loosed a string of complaints. Inukashi had given him
offhanded answers. That must be hard, he had nodded,
but had responded scathingly in his mind.
Stop acting like a baby.
The monitoring room for the disposal of leftover food
and other trash was located in the most remote part of
the Correctional Facility. All of the trash produced in the
facility was collected here. The machines sorted through
it and carried it to the incinerator; machines adjusted the
temperature of the incineration, and disposed of the
ashes. Almost the entire procedure was completed
automatically. Getsuyaku's only job was monitoring and
tuning the machines. One person was enough for the job.
Sure, a workplace without anyone to talk to was probably
lonely. So what? You wouldn't die from not speaking for a
day.
Try living a life where you're so, so hungry that all you
can think about all day is food. Try spending your days
licking pebbles on the road to stave off your hunger.
Loneliness? That's just a luxurious toy for you people who
don't have to worry about filling your bellies.
But Inukashi only remarked in his mind. Out loud, he
feigned pity, saying things like, "that must be hard".
Getsuyaku was an important partner in trade. Nothing
good would come out of getting on his bad side.
Although the sorting, incineration, and cleaning of the
incinerating chamber were all automated, the step before
the sorting required human hands. It was the task of
transferring the trash from the collection area to the
conveyor belt. For some reason, this step was the only one
that was not automated. Getsuyaku had to operate a small
power shovel himself to lift the trash onto the conveyor
belt. Sometimes he even had to use an archaic tool like
the shovel to scrape it out by hand. At this step, he would
swiftly set aside raw garbage, or clothes that still looked
wearable, and hide them. Inukashi bought the lot off of
him: that was how it worked. Inukashi distributed his
wares to the food vendors and secondhand clothes
merchants in the West Block, and made a decent amount
of money.
For Inukashi, it was a heaven-sent fortune that there
was a manual task before the automated process. It was
thanks to this that he was even in business.
 Getsuyaku's workplace was equipped with neither
surveillance cameras nor security systems. If anything
happened, Getsuyaku himself had to flick the emergency
switch on the corner of his control panel.
"I don't imagine they would actually come to help,
even if I did flick it." Inukashi remembered Getsuyaku
muttering as if to himself, gazing at the red switch.
Although facility employees were normally taken from
the general gates to their respective sections by shuttle
bus, Inukashi had heard that Getsuyaku was the only one
being crammed into an outdated compact automobile.
"Being treated like that makes me feel ashamed of
myself. I don't have pride in myself anymore."
This was probably another one of his complaints.
These days, Getsuyaku's complaints had increased
noticeably.
Pride? Hah, first loneliness, and now pride? So you're
pulling out another luxurious toy to show off, huh? Geez,
the least you could do is talk about something that would
fill my stomach.
These were, of course, remarks confined to his mind.
He didn't care about Getsuyaku's loneliness or pride.
What mattered was that this was the one and only place
that was off the dense map of surveillance criss-crossing
far and wide throughout the Correctional Facility. It was
also the one and only place which was connected directly
to both the West Block and No. 6 without any barriers. He
could naturally see why Nezumi had set his sights here.
However, it was impossible to go beyond and get inside
the Correctional Facility from here. The hallway leading
into the main parts were blocked by double doors, and
they were made so that they could not be opened from
Getsuyaku's end.
Whoever designed this stout building had made it into
a kind of dungeon where infiltration and escape were both
exceedingly difficult; maybe this guy had poured so much
life's blood into the effort that he didn't have attention to
spare for the waste disposal system. Or, maybe he never
had any consideration for the people managing the waste.
Even in the Security Bureau, which presided over the
Correctional Facility, there would probably be no officials
at all who were concerned about Getsuyaku's working
conditions. If an accident happened during the operation,
and Getsuyaku suffered a life-threatening wound, not in a
thousand chances would the Facility doors open from the
inside to admit paramedics. The doors would remain
closed, and Getsuyaku would be left to die.
It felt strange, to think of it this way.
As a resident of Lost Town, Getsuyaku was a
semi-citizen. But it didn't change the fact that he lived
inside the city. He may be poor, but he could live without
fearing starvation and the pain of freezing in the cold. He
was fortunate enough to be able to complain of loneliness.
To people of the West Block like Inukashi, his lifestyle was
equivalent to heaven.
 Inukashi could tell even from their sparse exchange of
words that Getsuyaku was an honest and amiable man. But
even Getsuyaku's gaze sometimes carried a hint of scorn or
superiority when he looked at Inukashi, the West Block
resident.
I'm still higher than him.
I can eat 'til I'm full.
I don't have to freeze in the dead of winter.
I am a citizen of No. 6.
That's why I'm higher than him.
It was a funny story.
People put other people into classes. Those who were
looked down upon and slighted turned around and looked
down upon others and slighted them. This was not a
mechanism of society that forced them; people
established such order in their own hearts, of their own
will.
Getsuyaku, who was treated like less than a machine
by the upper class of No. 6, who lamented this treatment,
and even complained about it, showed a superior attitude
to Inukashi, because he lived in a corner of the West
Block. He condescended upon him.
It was a funny story. And it was strange.
Sometimes he thought humans were even more foolish
animals than dogs. Dogs also had a social order, but it was
based on their strength. Dogs didn't rank themselves based
on pedigree, the state of their coat, or where they were
born.
 Humans weren't bothered at all at doing something
even dogs didn't do. Humans― what ridiculous―
We're all the same.
He suddenly recalled a voice. It rang faintly deep
inside his ears. It wasn't Nezumi's. Nezumi's voice was vivid
too, but it wasn't as soft as this.
Shion....
He's weird, pampered boy with white hair. Not to
mention he's a most-wanted criminal on the run. Top-class
criminal. That's something you can't just wake up and
decide to be one day. Leaves me in awe, really. But on the
other hand, he did turn out to be an airhead with a
capital A.... just baffles me. He's such a weirdo.
But he'd said this once.
They're the same humans as us, Inukashi.
And then I asked him.
Are you and I the same humans?
Yeah.
Are the people of No. 6 the same humans as us? The
answer had come back, clearly, with not a hint of
hesitation.
Yeah.
Shion. He was a weirdo, through and through.
Hey, Shion. Don't you have any sense of hierarchy in
your heart? Don't you draw lines between groups of
people at all? Don't you ever feel contempt towards other
people, and then feel you're better because of it?
Shion, as humans, are we really all equal?
"What do you mean by... job?" A hoarse voice
questioned him. Inukashi's mind, which had been deeply
immersed in thought, took a while to respond.
"Eh?"
"The gold-coin job... what do I have to do?"
"Oh! Right, that." He sure swallowed the bait easier
than I imagined. This old man must really need the
money.
"Just to let you know, I'm not taking any dangerous
jobs," Getsuyaku said hastily. "My baby is due in the spring.
I've still got to work and keep earning a solid wage into
the future. Under no circumstances whatsoever will I take
a job that endangers my life."
I see. Fine, fine. You don't want to get yourself in
danger. But you still need money desperately, enough to
do almost anything. I see.
Inukashi narrowed his eyes and let a slow smile spread
across his lips. This was also an expression he had picked
up from Nezumi. When you wanted to entice someone,
you smiled at them gently, like this. If possible, so
beautifully that the other's breath would catch in his
throat...
 Fat chance I'd be able to pull it off. I'm no actor. I
can't put people under a spell as easily as Nezumi does.
He tried smiling anyway. And then... then what next,
Nezumi?
He felt his heart racing. His heart pounded against his
chest. He heard the thudding in his ears. His palms were
sweating as he clenched his hands into fists. Sweat
streamed down his back. His throat was dry, and his
tongue felt like sandpaper.
Inukashi realized he was almost nervous out of his
wits.
He realized he had to lure this man into his trap using
any method he could get his hands on. He had to get the
man to do what he wanted, no matter what it took. He
had to make him do it. If he failed, Nezumi and Shion's
escape route would be completely closed off. He would
never be able to see them again.
They had made a reckless bet from the beginning,
anyway. There was less than a one-percent chance of
them escaping the Correctional Facility. Those two had
embarked anyway. He thought they were stupid to do so.
Fools of fools. It was logical for fools to perish. They were
reaping the rewards for what they had sown.
I know that's how it is, I know. But―
But I'm still wishing they'd return. I find myself still
wanting to see them again. Yeah, sure, I've got my sights
set on the gold bullion, too. My eyes are dazzled by the
mountain of gold. But I want to see them too. I want to
hear with these ears again, Nezumi's sarcasm and laugh,
Shion's awkward way of speaking.
'Oh, you're back.'
'So I am. I told you I'd come back. I don't make empty
promises.'
'Egh, stop trying to act cool. Does that mean I get to
hear you prattle on forever again? Gee, I can hardly wait.'
'Inukashi, I'm sorry for worrying you.'
'Worry? Hah, Shion, are you still dreaming? I haven't
been worried even a teeny―'
'You were worried about us, right?'
'Idiot.'
He wanted to have that sort of conversation with
them. He wanted to exchange words with them. I... I'm
actually, seriously, praying that you guys will survive, and
that you guys will come back still living. I won't pray to
God. I won't cling to Him. I'll pray to myself, and cling to
myself. I'll do whatever I can push myself to manage.
Without ever giving up... I'll keep on believing in myself
and in you guys.
Isn't that what praying is, Nezumi?
Getsuyaku saw Inukashi's smile, and drew his chin
back. So it didn't go as well as with Nezumi. Go figure.
There was probably something awkward about it. And that
had made Getsuyaku feel apprehensive.
 Inukashi cleared his throat, and pursed his lips.
"Isn't that nice. Congratulations. Don't worry, I'm not
gonna ask you something as idiotic as your life in exchange
for pay. It's an easy job. Very easy. But it's also something
only you can do. That's why it's worth one gold coin."
"It's easy, but worth one gold coin," Getsuyaku
repeated suspiciously.
"I told you, it's something only you could do. I have no
choice but to cling to you, Getsuyaku-san. Really. Only you
can do it. And I know you'd be able to do it."
Getsuyaku's face relaxed very slightly.
Only you can do it.
And you would be able to do it.
You had to tickle his pride. Caress him gently with
words. It would no doubt soothe his battered and stinging
self-respect.
"I'm begging you. Work with me, Getsuyaku-san."
"It's not that easy... what are you saying I have to do?"
"I want you to send the cleaning robots haywire."
"Huh?"
"You monitor the cleaning robots as well as doing
waste disposal, don't you?"
"Ah―well, yeah. Monitoring goes as far as me pressing
the control switch on the robots that are on standby,
though. The robots start moving on their own, and
commence cleaning. I'm only in charge of monthly
tune-ups."
"When's the next tune-up?"
"In a week."
"Couldn't you make it tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow? Tomorrow is the Holy Celebration."
"It is, isn't it? It's a holiday in No. 6."
"It―it's a holiday, which means most workers are off...
including me."
"You don't get the day off," Inukashi replied. "You told
me before yourself. You only have three days off a month,
and even the Holy Celebration isn't part of that. You were
mumbling complaints about it."
"Well―B-but..."
"It should be easy. You come up with some excuse like
you're noticing something weird in their movements, and
push the maintenance a week earlier. That's all there is to
it."
"No, there's no way―"
"You could do it. You must've had a lot of similar cases
in the past." Shion had told him once.
"Cleaning robots are actually required to perform
more complicated motions than you'd expect. If they were
like Ippo and the rest―(here Inukashi had unwittingly
blurted out a question as to what Ippo was. He was
exasperated to hear it was the robot's name. Supposedly
Shion's dead colleague had named him. Said he named
them Ippo, Niho, and Sampo. One-step, Two-step, and
Three-step. Hah, I can't believe how placid this guy was.
He had found it funny that the airheaded boy even called
the robots' names lovingly, like he did to the mice)―and
only had to clean the park, they would only have to make
relatively simple movements, because there's no strict
sorting of trash. But they're operating inside a building,
and not the average household either: you've got trash
from various sections all coming together. One simple type
of movement isn't gonna be enough. The type of trash and
how soiled it is is going to vary according to what section
it comes from, so I'm pretty sure the mechanisms are
much more complicated too."
"Which means it needs meticulous maintenance. And
you can't rule out them breaking down."
That was Nezumi's line, if I remember. And Shion had
nodded.
"Judging from my experience, I'm pretty sure they
experience a lot of petty trouble. Their distinguishing
functions decline, or their movements turn sluggish, or
something like that."
"I see."
Then Nezumi put on that wan smile of his, and
glanced at me. It wasn't a gaze I liked. It was a
meaningful glance, and somewhat suggestive. Nothing
good ever comes out of him making eyes like that. I broke
eye contact in a hurry. It was already too late, though.
Back then, I didn't understand fully what his gaze
meant. Now I know. 'Inukashi, this is your chance to shine.
It's a key role. Play it well.'
I know. You just watch, Nezumi. I'll pull it off so well,
it'll blow your hammy acting away.
"I heard the cleaning robots break down a lot. Am I
wrong?"
Getsuyaku knitted his brow. He answered grudgingly.
"Well, it doesn't happen that often."
"So what about speeding up the maintenance day, hm?
It's not unnatural at all."
"Well, I mean... it's not something I can't do, but..."
Inukashi had to keep himself from bursting out
laughing. This guy is way too truthful.
He found it hilarious that Getsuyaku couldn't help
giving him straight answers, even though he was supposed
to be apprehensive towards Inukashi. But this wasn't the
time to be laughing, and he didn't have the concentration
to spare. Inukashi set his jaw. He had to pull this man onto
their side, even if he had to take advantage of the man's
straight-laced and honest nature.
"If you can't not do it, it means you can, right,
Getsuyaku-san?"
 "Scheduling the maintenance earlier isn't... well, it
isn't impossible. But what do you mean by making the
robots go haywire?"
"Just that. I want you to do a little rigging so that it
does the opposite of cleaning."
"Opposite?"
"Make it spit out trash, all the trash that it's
accumulated in itself. And I want you to mix this in with
it."
Inukashi took out a jar with a small capsule inside, and
showed it to him.
"What's this?"
"It's nothing dangerous, you can relax. It just releases
a bit of an odour. It's not even that strong. This capsule
starts melting when it touches the air. Very gradually,
though."
"Why do I have to mix this in? Not to mention making
the robot spit it back out."
"It's a prank." Inukashi shrugged, and gave a show of
chuckling. But he didn't find it funny at all. His whole body
was damp with sweat. He was in no state to be laughing.
But he still did. He showed Getsuyaku a smile like one
of a child devising a little prank. Getsuyaku wasn't
laughing. His face made it clear that he wasn't believing a
word of what Inukashi said.
 Geez, talk about ingrained suspicions. He must be
made up of a lot of Coward.
"If a robot starts spewing trash and odours
everywhere, it's gonna cause a commotion. No mistake
about that, right?" Inukashi continued nevertheless.
Getsuyaku nodded. His fingers were still clenched
around the gold coin.
"No mistake about a commotion. Those guys inside the
Facility, prisoners aside, are always working in
comfortable and immaculate rooms. They most likely
haven't even gotten dirty before. Yeah―I'm pretty sure
they haven't even touched trash in their life."
"Right? No one thinks about how tough and important
your job is. So this is why you're gonna pull a little prank.
The cleaning robot goes haywire, and starts strewing trash
everywhere. Those guys inside will make a big deal, and
what'll they do first―?"
"Order me to stop the robot."
"Exactly. And you'll do that. Then―then, you'll
probably be called inside the building."
"To repair the robot? Mm, well, that would happen, I
guess."
"And cleaning up the aftermath. You'll be ordered to
clean the garbage that was spilled. No one else can do the
cleaning job. You'll be summoned. And it'll open."
"What?"
 "The doors. The doors which you could never open
from your side will open up to you. You'll go through them,
carrying your outdated cleaning equipment. Around that
time, the capsule is gonna start to melt, and the odour
will start spreading. If it's not melting properly, step on it
a bit. That might be more effective, yeah," Inukashi
murmured to himself.
"And oh, you don't needa worry. Like I said, it doesn't
smell that bad. The smell sensors might activate, but the
danger level is still gonna be zero. My nose is probably too
used to it to even pick it up. But those guys on their cushy
perches are gonna take it hard. The commotion will get
even worse. Then, you'll pretend to be in a rush to clean
up the trash, and―"
Now, this is the real deal.
Inukashi lowered his voice, and whispered into
Getsuyaku's ear.
One, two words.
Getsuyaku's whole body went rigid. His mouth fell
half-open, and a set of strong-looking white teeth peeked
through.
"Th... There's absolutely no way I could do that."
"Why not? It's so easy. I think using a power shovel is
harder than this."
"And if anyone finds out? I'll get fired―no, probably
worse. I'll be arrested by the Security Bureau, and... oh,
no, stop," he moaned. "Just the thought of it is scaring me
enough to give me goosebumps. No thanks. That's a
resounding No. Go home, Inukashi. I'll give this back to
you."
Getsuyaku thrust the gold coin back at him. It was a
real one; it glimmered faintly. Inukashi twisted his lips
into a smile. He felt like this one was a little better than
the last one.
"Give it back, huh. I see. Not tempted by material
desires?"
"My life is more important than material desires."
Inukashi gently placed his own tan hand on
Getsuyaku's upturned palm.
"Ooh―" Getsuyaku gulped his breath. The gold coin in
his hand had turned into two. "Hey, Inukashi, I'm not―"
"One more." He placed a third gold coin onto his palm.
"Three gold coins. How about it?"
"Why―why are you―offering so much..."
"The job I'm asking you is worth this much. If it goes
well, I'll give you three more as your compensation."
"Inukashi, what are you getting at? This isn't just any
old prank, is it? It can't be. And where did you come across
this much money?"
"No need for questions. This is what I'm asking―do you
take it or leave it? Actually, you can't really turn it down
anymore."
 "W-Why not? I will turn it down. See: I won't take it,"
Getsuyaku said stubbornly.
"No can do. You sold me inside information. Did you
already forget?" He tried licking his bottom lip. It was dry
and sandy. The palpitations in his chest had settled down.
Watching the blood recede from Getsuyaku's face, Inukashi
widened his smile.
I'm alright. I'm calm. I won't panic and end up messing
up the finishing touch. I'm alright.
"You told me the other day, where the electric
circuitry was inside the Correctional Facility."
"That was―well... it was only a broad idea of what I
knew."
"But you still told me. No, you sold it to me. Two silver
coins that time, I think it was. You sold me information
about your workplace to me for two silver coins. If that
gets found out, it's gonna be worse than getting fired, it's
gonna be―"
"I-I needed money!" Getsuyaku protested. "My wife fell
ill, and I had to take her to the doctor's."
"Yeah. You're a good guy, a family man. But you think
the authorities are gonna take that reason? I sold
information for two silver coins to a West Block resident
so I could feed my family. I'm sorry. What're the guys at
the Security Bureau gonna do if you confess that, huh? Are
they gonna give you a pat on the back and say, 'that must
have been tough on you'? No way. That would never
happen, you know that. Even you understand your own
position and how dangerous the Security Bureau can be,
don't you? Oooh, terrifying. I'm getting goosebumps just
thinking about it."
Inukashi rubbed his bare arms. Getsuyaku's face turned
even more colourless and flat, and looked like a sad
caricature drawn on a piece of paper.
"A-Are you blackmailing me?"
"I just told you the truth. For free."
Getsuyaku made a strangled noise in his throat.
Inukashi patted him lightly on the shoulder.
"It's alright, man. No danger is gonna swoop down on
you. I'll ensure it. Think about it: you've been a
hard-working man up until now. You're registered
legitimately as a citizen. Who's gonna be suspicious of you?
No one. It's because no one's paying attention to you. No
one is watching you."
"But the surveillance cameras―"
"If you make suspicious movements, you'll be caught.
But if you move naturally and unnoticeably, then fooling
the camera is a piece of cake. Machines might be able to
send you clear images, but they can't display what's inside
your mind. Either way, it doesn't change the fact that
you've already set one foot in."
Inukashi put the gold coins back in his hand and made
him clasp it.
 "You'll take the job for me, won't you, Getsuyaku-san?"
"Uh... only once. Just this once."
"Thank you," Inukashi said graciously. "Tomorrow, then.
Right before your shift ends."
"Right... and you'll really give me the rest of the gold?"
"This is where humans and dogs are different. We don't
lie. Once we make a promise, we always carry it out."
"But―huh?"
"What?"
"Didn't you hear a baby crying?"
"Baby? I didn't hear nothin'."
"I could swear I heard―"
"Maybe you thought you heard it. Isn't your baby
coming soon? That's why you think the wind howling is a
baby crying. But, see, I'm right: once the baby's born,
you'll need even more money. You'll need a warm bed for
him, and nutritious milk."
Getsuyaku moved his lips as if to say something.
Instead, he promptly closed the door of the monitoring
room without a word.
Once the light that spilled from the room was cut off,
a heavy darkness wrapped around Inukashi. The frozen
night air whistled past his feet.
Phew. He let out a great sigh. Even in this frigid
weather, his whole body was dripping with sweat. His
shoulders felt heavy, probably because his muscles had
been tense.
Phew. This time, he intentionally let out his breath. As
he breathed back in, cold air slid deep down into his
chest, and swirled around.
Did it go well? Was I able to tie their lifeline down
properly?
I'm not confident I did.
Getsuyaku, that fearful and goodhearted man, would
probably worry. He would waver. He would probably hum
and haw until the last minute, unable to make up his
mind.
What'll I do? What should I do? Keep going? Call it off?
Oh, what should I do. What should I do.
What last-minute decision would Getsuyaku make?
Would he act as Inukashi hoped? He wasn't confident of
the answer.
Human minds are like the ends of a thin branch.
They get shaken by the wind so easily.
I guess I Just have to believe.
Not Getsuyaku. He had to believe his own fortune.
Shion's face rose in his mind. Nezumi's profile did, too.
Guess I just have to believe in them.
 He walked briskly through the darkness. A dark shadow
shifted beside the cart holding leftover food. He heard
hiccoughing sobs.
"Stop making him cry," Inukashi said with a sharp click
of his tongue. He pulled his face into a scowl. "What good
are you as babysitter? Take care of him properly. At least
just make sure he doesn't wail like that, I'm begging you,
old man."
"I'm the one that wants to cry here, geez," Rikiga
rejoined with a click of his own tongue while holding the
baby. He was probably scowling, too. Inukashi just couldn't
see through the darkness that shrouded him.
"Look, Shionn. Your mama's back. Isn't that nice."
"Who're you calling mama?"
"Who cares? I'm certainly not the mama. Here."
Inukashi was handed the baby, wrapped in a soft blanket.
The blanket was something Rikiga had gotten. Inukashi
could feel the baby's warmth and weight in his arms. The
baby felt a little heavier.
Could it be? No way. It's probably just me.
The baby he had picked up out of the rubble suckled
at a dog's nipple, flailed his arms and legs, laughed often,
and cried all the time. He had large, roving eyes and
plump cheeks.
"Mama," the baby stretched his arms out to Inukashi. It
looked like he was searching, longing, or calling for
something.
 "See, he's calling you Mama," Rikiga said. "He did miss
his mummy."
"He probably couldn't stand your boozy breath, old
man. Ooh, there there. Poor thing. That must've sucked,
Shionn."
"So?"
"Hm?"
"How did it turn out?"
"Dunno. I did everything I could. I did what Nezumi
told me to."
Rikiga sniffed.
"Eve, huh. What an insolent little bastard. He's off
getting himself tossed into the Correctional Facility, and
he still has the gall to give orders to us. Who does he think
he is?"
"Nezumi is Nezumi, man. He doesn't 'think' he's
anything. Besides, they didn't get tossed in there. They
went through those gates of their own will."
"The gates of Hell."
"Hey, old man."
"What?"
"Do you think they'll come back?"
"When they've gone through the gates of Hell?
Impossible. It would take a miracle for that to happen."
 "I hear miracles happen pretty easily. Nezumi said so
before."
"Eve is a fraud. You couldn't find any truth in his words
that's bigger than a fly's head. You know, Inukashi, I―I
really do want Shion to come back, though."
"How about Nezumi?"
"I don't care about Eve. I wouldn't mind not seeing him
for the rest of my life. Actually, I couldn't be happier if I
didn't have to see him. Brighter prospects for me, at least.
Hmph."
Inukashi laughed silently. Rikiga was in a terrible
mood. He found it funny. He knew the reason why, and
that made it funnier.
"Tsukiyo." Inukashi lowered his voice and called the
little mouse's name. Shion had named this one too.
Hamlet, Cravat, Tsukiyo... it was a strange thing. Once he
knew their names, he found he could distinguish between
each of them, when they had only been "just the mice" to
him before.
It was strange, indeed.
Chit.
A black mouse appeared from under the belly of a
similarly black dog, which was sprawled out on the
ground.
 "A message for your master: I've done what you told
me to do. Tomorrow evening, everything springs into
action."
Chit.
"I'll pray so you can reach your master safely, Tsukiyo."
Cheep-cheep-cheep!
The mouse disappeared swiftly into the darkness.
"Does it know where Eve is?"
"I reckon."
"Does he understand what you say?"
"He can probably understand you too, old man. As long
as you're sober, he'll understand what you're trying to say."
"Why? He's just a mouse."
"He's not just a mouse. Ordinary mice don't understand
human words. Those mice are unusually smart. They can
understand words, and the intention we put behind them.
It's no wonder Nezumi treats them so preciously."
"Why aren't they ordinary mice?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know that?"
"Are they microrobots?"
"No. Completely natural living things. They just have
intellect. Shion, you know, he was even reading to the
mice. Some classic called Whachamacallit. I bet you've
never read any classics before, have ya, old man?"
 "Never read any classic called Whachamacallit before,"
Rikiga responded sarcastically. "So why do these mice have
intellect?"
"I said I dunno. They're Nezumi's, after all. I wouldn't
find it strange if they were somehow extraordinary."
"Of course it's strange. Where did Eve get those mice?"
"Old man."
"What?"
"Why are you so hung up about them? What, you
wondering if you can make a little extra cash by using
those mice?"
"Of course not," Rikiga said crossly. "Like I would have
anything to do with Eve's mice. I wouldn't touch them even
if they had gold coins in their mouths."
Inukashi found it hard to believe that Rikiga would let
a mouse with a gold coin go uncaptured, but he only
shrugged in response, and didn't say anything.
Mice that understand human language....
One of those mice had delivered Inukashi a letter
during the day. It was from Nezumi. The words were
scrawled with a thin pen.
 The letter began with no formal opening or seasonal
greeting, and read rather standoffishly.
Doesn't he even know how to write a proper letter? Or
does he think I'm not good enough for a greeting? If that's
so then, well, what a rude prick.
Nevertheless, a letter from Nezumi was unexpected
and unusual, and his eyes were glued to the letter even
while he complained. He read, and he growled.
On the letter were detailed instructions for those left
behind in the West Block. Only after reading the letter did
Inukashi finally realize what meaning was behind the
meaningful and suggestive look in Nezumi's eyes.
I see. This is what you want me to do. What a
touching love letter you've given me.
This guy is just rotten. Not that it's anything new.
He took a deep breath. He had to decide: whether to
crush the letter in his hand and pretend he never saw it,
or act on Nezumi's orders.
 A short moment of hesitation came and went. Inukashi
folded the letter neatly, and exhaled a long breath.
Apart from instructions for Inukashi, there were also
detailed orders for Rikiga as well. That was the source of
Rikiga's discontent.
"The brat thinks he can order me around. Damnit, I
feel like that despicable rat is remote-controlling me.
Pisses me off."
"Then you'll ignore it?"
"I can't just do that. Shion's life is on the line."
"The mountain of gold bullion is also on the line."
"Exactly."
Love and greed. These two conditions were often all it
took to get most people moving. For the amount of
continuous complaints that streamed from Rikiga's mouth,
he moved surprisingly swiftly and efficiently. He had
brought in a stock of micro-bombs. He had probably had
them prepared a while ago in advance.
He had said he had spent ungodly amounts of money.
But if they were going to get that gold bullion, it was a
small sacrifice.
Both Inukashi and Rikiga had accomplished half of
Nezumi's orders. Now there was the other half. This was
the critical moment.
"We know for sure that Tsukiyo and the rest are on our
side. Isn't that enough peace of mind for now?" Inukashi
voiced his honest thoughts. Whether it be a human, dog,
or little mouse, as long as they weren't enemies, it was
something to be thankful for. He wished Rikiga would
worry about this "strangeness" and "mystery" business
later, when they weren't in such a tight situation.
It's been obvious since, like, a hundred years ago that
Nezumi is someone you just can't figure out, old man.
"Abah, abah, abah." Shionn babbled animatedly.
"Congratulate us, Shionn." Inukashi lifted the tiny body
up to the night sky, where the stars were winking.
"Celebrate for us. For our present, and our future."
"Babhuh." Shionn suddenly lifted his arms, wrapped in
a tattered cloth. He reached straight up as if to indicate
at something.
"What?" Inukashi looked up to see the golden city. The
Holy City of No. 6, glittering, tore through the inky
darkness.
Shionn's tiny fingers were stopped right on that golden
light.
"It's No. 6. What about it? Did it catch your eye?"
Shionn wasn't smiling. He wasn't crying, either. With
his purple-tinted eyes opened wide, all he did was stare
intently at No. 6.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 3
The Reason Why

When people built the public office

wasn't the reason why
so it could take away their perils
and create a bright and peaceful world?
But the citizens suffer hardship, and the officials
bloat with riches
On the vast earth, not a single one
of the citizens can voice their woe
So they take to their brushes, and entrust it to
song.

[1]
-Chinese folksong

Safu let out a scream.

This is me?
Why, why, why...
"Safu, are you awake? Good morning. How do you feel?
Ah, I see all your cognitive senses have returned to
normal. Splendid."
This is me?
No, this isn't me.
This isn't me.
"What are you talking about? Look. You are beautiful.
Not only beautiful―yes, soon you will have both beauty
and power in your hands. And immortal life. Brilliant, is it
not?"
No. No.
Help me.
Turn me back.
Turn me back to who I was.
"Safu. You cannot let yourself get over-excited. It
hurts, doesn't it? Yes, when your emotions are agitated, it
causes pain. Headaches. So, calm. Calm down. Calm
down, and think of the appropriate state you should be in.
Yes... good girl. I will help you. Yes, calm down..."
Shion...
Where is Shion?
"Forget him. You have been reborn. Forget everything
from before. Everything. No people, no names, or
memories are of use to you anymore, Safu."
I don't want to forget.
I can't forget.
I... won't forget.
"You know, Safu, tomorrow is a festival. A day to celebrate
the birth of this city. A celebratory festival. It's called 'The
Holy Celebration'. You know about it too, I'm sure. You
were a former citizen, after all."
Shion.
Shion, where are you?
"Festivals are utter foolishness. Everyone makes a
senseless ruckus and they don't even realize what they're
celebrating for. Foolish, aren't they? It would be
troublesome if they weren't, however. Ha ha ha.... The
real Holy ones are right here. You and I. Shall we give a
toast, Safu? Will you have wine?"
I will not forget.
I will not forget you.
I would never be able to forget you.
"Safu, why are you expressing sadness? I'm planning a
very splendid gift for you, you know. Soon. I will lead you
to become an existence everyone would admire."
I will keep remembering you.
Because this is my own heart.
I will not... forget.
"How troublesome. I thought you would be less of an
obstinate child. I'm a little disappointed, Safu. Very well,
then. Soon you will see the extent of my magnanimity.
Then you will prostrate yourself and feel gratitude for me.
See, Safu? Oh, yes, we'll no longer need this name
anymore either. Let us throw it away. A new future is
waiting for you, after all. See? Doesn't it excite you just
thinking about it?"
I will not throw away my soul.
I will not lose my memories.
My feelings will not be stolen from me.
Shion,
where...
"Come on. Come over here."
Shion, where are you?
 Shion finished talking. He recalled, in as much detail
as possible, the past few years starting from the stormy
night when he met Nezumi, to where he stood today. He
knew no amount of talking could tell his whole story. He
didn't have the confidence that he could accurately tell all
that had caused him such turmoil. But he told anyway.
Rooting out the buds of countless emotions that had begun
to sprout in his soul, to the best of his ability, he calmly
and objectively told of his own experiences, what he had
seen and heard, the scenery which spread before his eyes,
and the sounds which had travelled through his eardrums.
At least he had meant to.
But still, his voice shook at the end. He couldn't help
the plea from creeping into his tone.
I am weak. So powerless. I can't even repress my
emotions with my own strength.
He clenched his fist.
You knew, Shion. You've known this for a long time.
You've been forced to face the reality of how weak you
really are, over and over, before you came here. What's
the use being afraid of your own powerlessness and
ignorance now? You can be ashamed, but you can't be
afraid. If you falter, you won't be able to move forward
again. You've come this far. You can't turn back. You're not
that weak.
Shion took a deep breath, and continued his words.
 "I want to help Safu. I'll do anything to get her out.
That's what I've come here for. Nezumi brought me here. I
can't begin to imagine where this is, or how I can infiltrate
the Correctional Facility from here. But no matter what, I
have to accomplish it. That much I can be certain of.
And... I'm the one that got Nezumi involved. Nezumi
risked danger for me... that's also the truth."
The elder remained silent. They were wrapped in
stillness. The silence was heavy on them, and Shion felt
like he could even feel his bones creaking.
Beside him, Nezumi crouched. He picked up the shirt
which had slid from Shion's hand without him knowing, and
handed it back to him.
"Thanks."
Heh.
Nezumi chuckled.
"Your manners don't leave you in this situation either,
do they, young master? Maybe add 'ignorant brat who
thinks highly of himself' to that nickname, while you're at
it."
"Me? Think highly of myself?"
"Yeah. I didn't come here for you. Don't flatter yourself
too much, young master."
Before Shion could respond, Nezumi turned aside. His
expressionless profile rejected Shion's gaze and words.
 "Rou." The elder didn't respond to Nezumi's call. He
remained unmoving, with his eyes closed. He looked like
he was either meditating, or reciting a prayer in his head.
"Rou, there's nothing false about Shion's story. It's all
truth. There have been casualties in No. 6 from parasite
wasps. Shion was spared. But most of everyone else won't
be. They all die strangely―" Here Nezumi shut his mouth,
and glanced at Shion. A shadow of doubt wavered in his
eyes, though only very slightly.
"Rou? Are you listening to me?"
The elder's head nodded slightly. "I am. Your voice
projects well, and reaches the ears of your listeners very
clearly."
"Has it reached your heart?"
"Of course."
"Then I want you to answer me. I want you to tell me."
"The fate of No. 6?"
"No, I don't need to ask anyone to find that out. I know
what's gonna happen to it: destruction and extinction. I'll
be the one to pull the trigger."
"Then... what do you wish to ask?"
"What the parasite wasps really are."
Shion let out a soft cry. He looked at Nezumi's profile
wide-eyed, and then shifted his gaze to the elder.
 "You are telling me to divulge the truth about the
parasite wasps?" the elder said.
"Yeah."
"Why... do you ask me this?"
"Because you know," Nezumi answered. "I have a
feeling you do. I've been thinking all this time: maybe,
just maybe... you know most of everything I'd want to
know." Nezumi exhaled. The stiff angles of his profile gave
way, and doubt shaded his face even more darkly.
"You know, because you were formerly of No. 6, as a
citizen... no, as a creator. Am I wrong?"
This time, no voice escaped Shion's lips. It was caught
in his throat.
Creator? This elderly man?
"Is what I'm saying incorrect? Rou."
The elder didn't reply. Nezumi turned his face up at
the ceiling. There was only a pool of dusky gloom. But
Nezumi blinked at it rapidly, as if he were staring at
something blinding. Then with an unusually languid
movement, he raised his arm up.
"This." He was holding a square piece of paper
between his fingers. He passed it to the elder. It was a
photo, an outdated one that was still printed on special
photo paper.
 "The alcoholic old man had it. Your mama's in it too,"
he said to Shion. "I took the liberty of borrowing it from
his files."
"Oh, that..." It was one of the photos that had been
mixed in with the jumbled contents of several folders.
They had been strewn about on the floor when the two
had last visited Rikiga from the directions on Karan's
memo. In the photo were his mother and her friends,
several decades younger. He remembered hearing Rikiga,
a former journalist, say that this was the photo he took
the last time he ever entered into No. 6.
Back in those days, No. 6 hadn't been as closed off.
There was no law yet that required a city-issued permit to
enter or exit, and it wasn't like now where anyone who
didn't possess a permit was prohibited from entering under
any reason or circumstance. The special gates and alloy
walls also hadn't been completed yet. Rikiga had said that
it was still a time when travelling to and from No. 6's
surroundings had been relatively easy.
"The young woman in the centre is Shion's mother. Her
name is Karan."
"Karan."
"You know her, don't you? You're in the picture with
her. Or have you long forgotten her?"
"With her? This man, with my mother?" Shion was
surprised. He could tell his mouth was gaping open. He
couldn't help but stare openly at the snowy-haired elder.
He knew how insolent his gaze was, but he could not avert
it.
He knows my mother? To think that this man who had
settled in these underground caves, was called "elder" by
the others, was connected to Karan. It was unbelievable,
if nothing else.
Unbelievable, how can that...? For an instant, the
surprise hit him so hard he felt like the core of his brain
was tingling.
Since meeting Nezumi, the boundaries of his world had
broken. The world he had lived in before had all but
collapsed. Everything was full of surprises. Things he had
believed in, had never had a doubt about, inverted and
showed an opposite face. He experienced this
heart-stopping realization many, many times.
Astonishment, awe, stunned silence, perplexity, and
pain. He had experienced so many emotions and
sensations. But he was also being forced to come to terms
with how ignorant he had been before he met Nezumi,
and how he had lived not knowing anything, and not trying
to know.
That was why it hurt. It hurt enough to make him gasp
in pain. But even so―he vowed not to hesitate at being
surprised and perplexed.
Shion, in his own way, hoped to see the truth about
himself and the world he lived in. He had also resolved to
see through it all. He didn't hesitate at being surprised or
confounded; on the contrary, every time he was surprised
or confounded, he felt a layer peel away, and a new facet
of the world unfold before his eyes. He had even come to
revere the experience.
But this time, he was simply astonished. He fixed his
eyes on the elder with his mouth open. Nezumi's fingers
touched his lips. Why were his fingers always so cold? A
feeling most distant from surprise or perplexity flitted
across the back of Shion's mind. Nezumi clicked his tongue
softly.
"Shut it. You have the most unbelievably idiotic
expression on your face right now."
"No way..." Shion whispered. "This is what's
unbelievable... Nezumi, what's going on? How does my
mother factor into this? This man and my mother know
each other... what does it mean?"
"How should I know?" Nezumi retorted. "I'm asking you
because I don't. See that photo the alcoholic had: the one
standing beside your mama is―" Nezumi swallowed. "It's
Rou."
The photo slid from the elder's fingers. It fluttered to
the ground like a flower petal.
"I was surprised too, when I first saw this photo,"
Nezumi said. "I probably had the same kind of expression
on my face, though probably not as idiotic as yours."
Nezumi picked the photo up, and held it out for Shion
to see. Shion leaned forward, and squinted at it. It was a
rather aged photograph. Several young men and women
were standing in front of a grey building. Karan was
standing in the middle of them. Her hair was grown out
long, and she was smiling shyly. Her smile still carried a
sort of girlishness. On her right was a tall man with a long
face. He was clutching a lab coat in one hand, and had
gentle eyes. Even from the old photo, Shion could make
out the deep intellect that resided in those eyes.
My godfather. Nezumi had pointed at this man, and
said those words. He's my godfather.
Shion knelt down in front of the elder.
"Please tell me." His voice was raspy. His throat was
painfully parched. "Please tell me the truth. That's all I
ask."
The elder's torso swayed slightly. It reminded Shion of
swaying silver grasses. His white hair, which shone dully in
the candle light, was almost like the ears of the silver
grasses themselves.
"Knowing the truth, and rescuing your friend: do you
think the two are connected, Shion?" Shion shook his head
slowly in answer.
"I don't know." He answered truthfully. He really didn't
know.
He had to do anything to rescue Safu even a minute
sooner, a second sooner. But what did he need? Did he
need to know the truth about the parasite wasps, the
relationship between his mother and the elder, and No. 6's
future... did he really urgently need to know these things?
Shion didn't have an answer.
He did wish to know. He desperately yearned to know.
But the most important thing right now was to save
Safu―was it not?
"I don't know... Maybe my knowing the truth and
rescuing Safu are two completely different things. But..."
"But?"
"But I―or should I say we―we residents of No. 6,
including myself, have been kept away from the truth all
this time. We've lived our lives hidden from the face of
reality, the true form it embodies."
"You've just never tried to see it," Nezumi remarked,
emotionless. "If you squinted, you would have seen. If you
searched for truth, you would have found it. But you
didn't. You got drunk and giddy on your false idea of
abundance, and settled yourselves into blissful laziness.
You didn't try to look through it to see reality. Your
foolishness allowed No. 6 to burgeon into the monster it is
today."
"I'm sure you're right." Shion inhaled. Nezumi was
right. But you know what, Nezumi? In the time I've lived
with you, I've been able to touch the sprouting ears of
truth. I touched them with my own hands. That was my
starting point. That's a truth in itself, too.
I started off there, and now, I'm here.
 "Safu getting kidnapped, and parasite wasps
appearing... No. 6 turning into a monster, all happened
because we've averted our eyes from the truth this whole
time. The crime we've committed is grave; I've realized
that. But that's why I want to know. I want to see true
form of the world, with my very own eyes―"
Shion bit his lip. No, he almost said out loud. It didn't
feel right. It wasn't that he had lied to the elder. But he
had decorated his words. Regret and resignation about the
past weren't the only things that lay behind the reason for
his wanting to know the truth.
Curiosity. No, it wasn't such a casual feeling; it was a
deep-rooted desire. It roved in circles deep inside his
chest.
It was intrigue towards a world his imagination could
not render. Interest in the unknown. And more than
anything... it was the expectation that he could acquire
some piece of knowledge that had to do with Nezumi.
The part that Nezumi showed him was only a small
fragment. In fact, Nezumi had many faces which Shion
could not see through. And he felt it, painfully,
everywhere, every time.
Where did you come from?
Where were you born?
How did you used to live until that stormy night when
we met?
 What have you thought about, believed, and rejected
in your life up until then?
And there's the promise of telling me your real name,
which you haven't fulfilled yet.
His soul was stirring restlessly. It stirred from wanting
to know, and not for anyone else but himself. But he had
put on an act. He had pretended to be the friend, the
innocent youth who longed to know the truth.
His heart and words turned away from each other.
How beautiful and rational were the words that spilled
from his mouth. They were rational and beautiful to the
point of sounding fake. His own words deceived his heart.
He bit his lip. He chewed on it hard.
Can I only speak in these kinds of terms?
Why can't I speak like Nezumi? I can only use empty,
superficial words. Why do I keep putting on an act? Why
do I still speak, when I'm not even prepared to reveal my
true self?
Even though I've lived by his side for months...
He had directed his gaze at Nezumi without even
thinking. There was no way he couldn't have noticed the
decoration in Shion's words, but Nezumi's profile showed
no hint of disdain, scorn, or pity. He had lowered his chin
slightly, and was staring off into the dark void.
Nezumi never toyed with his words.
Safu was the same.
 Like a flash of lightning in the night sky, an idea
sparked in his mind. Safu had never manipulated her
words. At least, any words she had directed at Shion were
true. He had received her straight and earnest words
numerous times.
He realized he ought to be ashamed of himself. Both
in the face of Nezumi and Safu, he ought to be ashamed of
himself.
"I... want to know." He squeezed out each word
painstakingly. "There are too many things I don't know.
That's why... I want to find out. That's it."
The elder's body swayed once again. "Just because you
know, it does not mean it will make you happy. You may
end up wishing you had never known at all. Such a reality
may be waiting for you, Shion."
"I'm prepared for it." He would rather suffer from the
knowledge than being blissfully ignorant. He preferred the
pain and hardship of truth rather than fake happiness.
With this as his fuel, he could move forward. He couldn't
keep leaning on this illusion, which didn't even serve as a
foothold.
He clutched his chest. He confirmed his feelings.
There was no doubt about it. My feelings are here
within me. I am not deceiving anyone.
"I'm prepared. At least, I think I can prepare myself.
Though―I can't say for sure that I won't regret it... I'll
probably regret it a number of times... but I feel like it
would be much better than going without knowing. That
much I feel is true... so, ah, I..." As soon as he tried to
speak in earnest, his tongue refused to co-operate. His
words refused to run smoothly as they had just moments
before.
Earnest words were heavy things.
They bore the weight of the speaker's beliefs,
emotions, and honest feelings.
The elder suddenly smiled. At least to Shion, it
seemed like he did. The elder let his momentary smile
fade, and slowly lowered his eyelids. He fell silent.
"Rou, why are you silent?" Nezumi asked harshly in
impatience. "Rou!"
"Elyurias." The elder's lips moved, and a whisper, like a
breath, escaped. It was a word Shion couldn't understand.
"Elyurias?" Nezumi furrowed his brow. Apparently, he
hadn't understood either.
"That is the name."
"Whose?"
"Hers."
"Her?"
"Nezumi, your eyes."
"Huh?"
"Close your eyes. Shion, you also."
 Shion and Nezumi looked at each other. The elder's
voice was low and placid, and carried no hint of a
command. But he found himself obeying it nevertheless.
He felt like he had let himself go limp on the gentle flow
of a river, and he was being born to the sea. Shion closed
his eyes.
"Elyurias," the elder whispered again. "She was a great
sovereign. She was a rare existence."
Elyurias...
Nezumi sucked in a breath from beside Shion.
"Looking back, it seems a thing of the distant past,"
the elder continued. "It was still a time when this land...
yes, this land was still without walls. Instead of walls,
there was a lush green forest. There were lakes, marshes,
and grassy plains. Myriad things intertwined and
maintained a harmony. A paradise... it may have been the
last remaining paradise on this planet. A paradise that had
escaped the destruction of humankind. A land of miracles.
A place that could nurture life and put death to rest. She
resided there. She really existed. I was the one who found
her."
The elder's voice dropped even lower.
"Ah, no... that is an arrogant way to put it. I did not
find her. I met her. We met by chance... as if God had
drawn us together. Elyurias―she was a great sovereign.
She would likely be one to this day. She still reigns."
 "Elyurias." Shion said the name under his breath,
imitating the elder. Elyurias. It was a sound unfamiliar to
his ear and tongue. He couldn't imagine what kind of
appearance or voice a person with that name would have.
Not to mention someone who was a "great sovereign"...
Shion cocked his head in disbelief. It sounded too
grandiose, too phony. He sensed domination. Had a
kingdom existed here in the past? Just like how No. 6
dominated this land now, this sovereign called Elyurias had
governed all...
'She', the elder had said. Then that would make her a
queen. A paradise governed by a queen? That sounds like
a cheap drama. I find it hard to believe.
The air shifted just slightly. He heard a hoarse groan.
As Shion lifted his eyelids, the first thing that jumped into
his vision was Nezumi covering his face with his hands. He
was about to buckle to his knees.
"Nezumi!" Nezumi collapsed into his outstretched
arms. Shion felt the heat and weight of his body. A low
groan trickled through Nezumi's fingers. It's the same. It's
the same as last time.
They had been talking about parasite wasps in their
basement dwelling. It was just when their conversation
had moved from emergent viruses to the mystery behind
the parasite wasps. Nezumi had suddenly collapsed.
They had been drinking hot water. Shion remembered
how Nezumi's cup had slid out of his hand and bounced on
a stack of books before rolling across the floor.
 "Nezumi―relax. Can you hear me?" Shion knelt down,
supporting the boy's body with his arms. If it was the same
as last time, then there was no need to panic. Nezumi had
recovered just fine last time. If this time was the same...
"Ow!" A set of fingers dug fiercely into Shion's arm.
Nezumi gasped, his chest rising and falling. The tremor of
his fingertips agitated Shion's worry even more.
"Water," Shion muttered, glancing all around. No one
moved. "Please, give me water. Anyone."
"Will he die?" a voice asked from behind. It was flat
and cold. It belonged to Sasori, the sand-coloured man. He
had drawn right up behind them without Shion noticing.
"Will he die? Then there is no need to bring water."
Contempt wafted into Sasori's tone. "There is no need to
give anything to the dying. Furthermore, he is one who
has once left. No need. At all."
Shion turned around. He looked up at the man who
had concluded the discussion with such terse words. No
need.
"Bring it," Shion commanded. As far as he could
remember, he had never given an order to someone in
such an oppressive manner. But the words didn't feel
strange leaving his mouth.
"Bring water to me. Quickly."
Sasori shifted uneasily. The rims of his widened eyes
twitched. A single bead of sweat rolled down from a
corner of his eye.
 "Here." A wooden bowl was handed to him. It was
about half-full with water. A small, thin child was holding
it out as if it were an offering. "Mother told me to―take
this."
"Thank you." Shion accepted the bowl from him. The
child spun around, and trotted away into the darkness.
Cheep-cheep.
A small mouse scurried up onto Shion's shoulder. It
stared at Shion's hands, twitching its nose.
"Nezumi... drink this." Supporting Nezumi's body with
one arm, Shion slowly tipped the water into his mouth.
Nezumi's throat contracted. He took a gulp.
"Nezumi, can you hear me?"
His eyelids lifted, and a pair of grey eyes peeked from
underneath. Shion thought they were beautiful. They were
the colour of the sky at the coming of morning. They
absorbed light, yet released it softly at the same time.
They were beautiful like the dawning sky.
A lightening sky at morning conjoined somewhere with
the hope of life. It was a glow that lauded people who had
resolved to live, or at least try to live, through today. That
was why it was beautiful.
I've gotten so much hope from the beauty of these
eyes.
Shion clicked his tongue at himself. Idiot, now's not
the time to be admiring him.
 "―Shion."
"Are you awake? Drink the water slowly―there―all of
it. Then take a deep breath."
Nezumi obediently did as he was told. He drained the
water, took a deep breath, and exhaled.
"You alright?"
"Somewhat."
"Does you head hurt? Any nausea, or palpitation―"
"Ten."
"Huh?"
"Three plus seven is ten. And since I'm at it already,
twenty-one."
"Oh... three times seven." So Nezumi had remembered
the questions Shion had asked when he'd woken up last
time. Shion stifled a chuckle. Yes, reality was brutal and
cruel. The past few hours had been filled with human
despair, death, and screams. It was dyed through with the
colour of terror, futility, and intense regret. But there had
also been many heartwarming moments, moments where
his pulse had quickened and his spirits had soared.
Memories with Nezumi were always like that. They always
brought excitement and warmth to his heart.
Memories?
Shion straightened his back, and put more strength
into his arms. Why did I just think 'memories', like he was
someone of the past? Nezumi mumbled in Shion's arms.
 "I heard the wind."
"Wind?"
"The wind was singing. I heard its song." Nezumi raised
himself. "I've heard it before. But this time it was... it was
clearer. It was a gentle melody..."
"What kind of song was it?"
"It was..."
"Can you sing it?"
"Me? Hm... well. I wonder if I can."
"Let me hear it."
Nezumi blinked, and his lips moved. A song with a
lilting melody poured forth.
The wind steals the soul away, humans thieve the
heart
O earth, wind, and rain; O heavens, O light
Keep everything here
Keep everything here, and
Live in this place
O soul, my heart, O love, my feelings true
Return home here
And stay
The little mouse grew still on Shion's shoulder. It
stopped moving as if rooted to the spot, and quieted its
breath. Humans all around did the same. The people
hidden in the darkness were also frozen in enthralment.
Their eyes were closed, and their bodies were lent fully to
the song. Everything grew still. It felt like even time had
stopped. Nezumi's voice, and his song, seemed to soak into
them, enveloping them, rocking them, and making them
feel as if their bodies and souls were floating.
The wind steals the soul away, humans thieve the
heart
But here I will stay
to keep singing
Please
Deliver my song
Please
Accept my song
The song ceased, and someone let out a gentle sigh.
He was not the only one. Here and there in the darkness,
soft sighs could be heard. Nezumi slowly shook his head.
"I feel like I've heard it before. Like I've heard it over
and over, since a long time ago. Someone's taught me this
song before."
Shion lifted his head and posed a question at the
seated elder.
"Is this song somehow related with Elyurias?"
"Do you think so, child?"
"Yes." The moment he had blurted the answer, he felt
certain. Nezumi and Elyurias were connected. The elder
narrowed his eyes, and his gaze wandered in the air.
 "It has been a long time since I heard it. I was
convinced it had long disappeared from this land. I
see―there still remains a person who can sing."
"The wind sings." Nezumi wiped his wet lips with the
back of his hand. "Or maybe someone's singing in the wind.
And I... hear it. I've come to hear it."
The elder nodded. "Since when?"
"A little while ago. Yeah―a little while before the
Hunt. This is the third time. When it happens, my
consciousness fades, like a stage in a blackout... and then
green scenery appears... and then..."
Nezumi's eyes turned to Shion. His gaze wavered.
Shion remembered that stormy night, the night he and
Nezumi had met. The boy had appeared before him,
soaked and blood-stained. He was so fragile, Shion had
felt like he would make the boy fall apart just by touching
him. Drawn to that fragility, and those vibrant eyes which
were so much the opposite, Shion had extended his hand.
"I'll treat your wound." Those words had escaped his
lips without a shadow of doubt, without resistance. He
had felt like he had to do something. He had felt like it
was his duty to protect this boy. He had never felt this
protective of anyone, neither before nor after this
incident.
A sharp, vivid moment. One that had burned an
imprint into his life. Every time he recalled it, his heart
quickened.
 The fragility that had stirred Shion's protective
instinct―the same fragility that had been completely
wiped clean when they reunited four years later―returned
into those eyes again.
His heart quickened.
"I don't know," Nezumi continued. "I was still young,
and I was wading through the grass. And I could see... the
sky."
"Right."
"An ultramarine sky. It was a really beautiful blue. And
wings buzzing... and a song. I couldn't tell whether it was
man's or woman's voice. It was a strange voice. It almost
sounded like the wind, crossing the plains, or crawling
across the ground, or showering down from the heavens.
I... I was always just standing there... listening to that
song..."
A song of the wind which crawled across the ground,
and showered from above. Maybe...
"Was it a song of offering?" Shion said. It was mostly
instinct. The spark of an idea turned into words, and
spilled from his lips. "A song offered to Elyurias... either
to praise or appease her... am I right?"
The elder's chest swelled and deflated. It looked like
he was taking several deep breaths. Is he agitated?
Confused?
 "Sasori," the elder called. The sand-coloured man
materialized like a blot in the darkness. "Provide these
two with food and rest."
"Rou―"
"They will probably not have much time to rest... but
that cannot be helped. Provide them whatever they wish
for, to the best of your abilities."
"Why?" Sasori yelled angrily. "Why do you help them?
Nezumi is one who has once left this place. He left,
vowing never to return again. He was forbidden to return,
was he not?"
"Yes."
"But he did return. Bringing a demon with him,
nonetheless. Rou, can you not understand? He is evil itself.
He brings calamity and destruction." Sasori's finger pointed
squarely at Shion.
"Did you see his eyes just now? Those are the eyes of
evil. The eyes of wicked darkness. Nezumi is being
puppeted by this demon."
"Now you listen." Shion was now feeling more than
cross. "You've been repeating yourself all this time. I only
glared at you a little, and you're making me sound like I'm
some monster. Kind of rude, don't you th―"
Sasori cut Shion off by shaking his head. His face
contorted, as if every word Shion uttered was a curse.
 "The very picture of a monster. Rou, I am fine with
Nezumi. If you command me, I shall obey. I will provide
him rest and food. But I cannot do that for him. If we do
not kill him now, then he will bring misfortune upon us. He
may obliterate us entirely."
"Sasori." Nezumi stood up. "Sometimes poison and
medicine can come from the same plant. Sometimes you
can't tell if it's going to be poison or medicine until you
drink it. Right?"
"...What is your point?"
"There's no need to reveal Shion's so-called true
identity, whether he's a demon or not. His identity doesn't
matter. Right now, all I care about is that he's kept alive.
That's all."
"Why?"
Nezumi's fingers grasped a handful of Shion's hair.
"Inside this head, Sasori, is information about the
inner structure of the Correctional Facility. The most
up-to-date stuff. I can bet it's probably as accurate as
computer data. I wouldn't be able to destroy the
Correctional Facility without it."
"Destroy the Correctional Facility―" Shock spread
across Sasori's face. Just for an instant, it the expression
made the sand-coloured man actually look human. This
man had shown the same reaction to Nezumi's words as
Rikiga and Inukashi did. Ah, I see, Shion thought.
 His skin and eyes were a strange colour, but those
were the only differences. This man was made of flesh.
Blood coursed through his body, and he gave off heat. He
would feel pain if he was wounded, and he had both
emotions and intelligence. He was a human, just the
same. Skin and eye colour were such small differences,
they didn't even seem to count.
"Surely you are not really thinking of doing that?" he
said in disbelief.
"I am," Nezumi said promptly. "In fact, that's probably
all I've been thinking about. The Correctional Facility isn't
just a prison. It's also a research organization that's
connected to the core of No. 6. If we destroy it, it'll put a
crack right in No. 6 itself, for sure. We're going to use that
crack as a foothold to throw No. 6 into its grave. And to do
that, I need Shion. I told you before, Sasori, I won't let you
kill him that easily."
The elder opened his mouth before Sasori could.
"There may already be a crack appearing."
"What? What do you mean?"
"No. 6 may disintegrate even before you strike a blow,
because of Elyurias."
"Rou!" Nezumi barked irritably. "Speak in a way I can
understand. So far you haven't clarified a single thing."
"Nezumi, perhaps it is fate that you have returned
with Shion. Perhaps it had already been decided
beforehand."
 "Beforehand?" Nezumi retorted. "Who the hell can
decide how I'm going to live? I'd like to see anyone try. I'll
never bow down to cheap words like God or Fate. That's
enough, Rou. No more word-play. Stop your mysterious
nonsense and answer my question. You were involved in
the birth of No. 6, correct?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Be seated. You too, Shion. Be at peace. I will give you
water. You are probably thirsty." Before the elder even
finished his words, a pair of slightly bigger bowls were
being handed to them. They were filled with clear water.
Shion felt a powerful thirst return to him.
He hadn't realized how badly he had wanted water. He
felt like all the moisture had been wrung out of him in the
numerous experiences leading up until now. He was so
thirsty, he felt like his throat was chafing. When he had
fed Nezumi water earlier, he had not wanted any for
himself. He had completely forgotten his thirst. But now it
was like his parched state was a reaction to that; he felt
like he was burning up.
"Water―" Shion held the bowl in both hands and
greedily gulped it down. It was cold and delicious, like the
water that Nezumi had fed him over and over during his
battle with the wasp―the water that ran near Inukashi's
ruins. It had the same taste. It was delicious, and it
quenched him.
 He drained it in a single draught. More water was
poured into his empty bowl. Shion was so grateful he felt
he could cry.
"Good, isn't it?"
Shion found himself nodding vigorously in answer to
Nezumi's question. It was too good to put into words.
"There's an underground lake here. Lots of minerals.
―Geez, you must have been thirsty."
Shion finally stopped to take a breath after he had had
several bowls of water. The elder must have been waiting
for him, for now he opened his mouth to speak.
"This will take a rather long time. I had intended not
to tell anyone for my whole life... but I must tell it now.
However, before that... Nezumi."
Nezumi lifted his chin.
"There is a path leading to the Correctional Facility,
but it is only connected partway. The Facility has built a
door from their side sealing the way off. It has not been
opened for decades."
"I know."
"There is no other way into the Correctional Facility
unless you open it. You know that too, I presume?"
"Naturally."
"It is impossible to open it from this side. Nor will it
ever open from the Facility's side. It absolutely will not
happen."
 "The thing with doors―" a wan smile spread across
Nezumi's lips, "is that you don't just wait for them to open
politely by themselves. You force them open."
"Have you a plan?"
"I'm not unprepared."
"I would not have expected you to act without some
strategy. But I cannot imagine how you would open the
door."
"Shion." Nezumi crouched down, and put a firm hand
on Shion's shoulder. The startled mouse hastily hopped
down out of his way. "The door we're talking about: it's the
only point on the map that connects the blank space
underground to ground-level. You know where it is, right?"
"Yeah." The floorplan appeared in his mind, the one of
the Correctional Facility that Nezumi had commanded
Shion to memorize as if his life depended on it.
"It's in location po1-z22. From the Facility's side, it was
labelled Point X."
"You remember the energy circuits which were
connected to that point too, right?"
"Yeah. It was a single circuit, an old system. There are
no auxiliary circuits."
"The unopenable door doesn't need a carefully-crafted
backup system," Nezumi said. "Efficiency is paramount.
Remove everything else that isn't absolutely necessary.
Both people and machinery." He chuckled. "Sounds like
something they would think of. But this is where it works
to our advantage."
Nezumi snapped his fingers.
"The unopenable door opens. We'll pry it open. Rou,
we'll fight our own battle. You have nothing to worry
about."
"Only death is waiting."
"For us?"
"For many people. Many more people will likely die,
more than you can imagine. Perhaps you are the only ones
who can stop that. Nezumi, fate does exist. Fate has
brought you together, and you are here because of fate. It
was fate that Elyurias and I met. Let us begin with that
story first. Listen well, and make haste, or else it will be
too late. You must hurry...."
Then the elder began to speak. It was a story of No. 6.
Shion and Nezumi huddled together and grew still, like
children listening to their grandfather tell a tale of the
past. Only their ears strained hard to listen.
It was a story of No. 6.
A tale of destruction and creation.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 4
Leave Every Hope
 Through me is the way into the woeful city;
through me is the way into eternal woe;
through me is the way among the lost people.

Justice moved my lofty maker:

the divine Power, the supreme Wisdom
and the primal Love made me.

Before me were no things created, unless eternal,

and I eternal last.
Leave every hope, ye who enter!
[1]
- Dante, The Divine Comedy Vol 1: The Inferno, Canto III

It began suddenly. No one would have been able to

predict it.
It began suddenly, and amidst the crowd that had
gathered in the square. It began as when gas erupts after
being compressed for a long time underground.
The Holy Celebration Day, 2017.
12:15 pm
Front Square, City Hall (also known as
The Moondrop)

The wind blew icily and nipped at the skin, but the
sun was bright. The sky was clear, and was dyed a brilliant
blue, appropriate for the festivities. The hearts of the
people were buoyant. They waved flags, and all praised
the Holy City.
 "Our mighty No. 6."
The square in front of the city hall where the
ceremonies were to be held was bursting with people.
"It's hot," complained a woman in the stuffy crowd.
She was young and slender. "I feel like I'm going to
suffocate, there's so many people."
"So true," her friend agreed beside her. She was short,
with black hair. She sighed as she dabbed the sweat off
her nose. "Isn't it horrible, how there's barely even space
to walk? How disgusting to sweat in the winter. I feel all
sticky."
"Really, I don't believe it. We dressed up for nothing."
"I know."
Both had barely any experience of sweating. They had
always lived in places where the temperature and
humidity were adjusted just so for maximum comfort.
They couldn't stand the sweat that streamed under their
arms and down their backs. They found the heat of the
jostling crowd exceedingly unpleasant.
The black-haired woman pouted her painted lips.
"My supervisor said I absolutely had to participate in
the ceremonies. If I didn't, I would get my salary cut."
"Me too. Boss' orders. He said it's mandatory that I
show up. If it wasn't, I definitely wouldn't be here."
"They'd know from your ID card if you didn't show up,
wouldn't they? The gates scan your citizenship number
when you pass through them... and I heard they notify
your workplace afterwards."
The slender woman nodded gravely, and furrowed her
brow. A bead of sweat rolled down her cheek.
Oh, how unpleasant. I wish I could take a shower and
freshen up.
The black-haired woman continued loosing her stream
of complaints.
"My younger sister is still a student, but she told me all
of them have to meet at school, and they get bussed over
here."
"Really? They didn't have anything like that in our day,
did they?"
"No. I heard it's just started this year. They want to
confirm your loyalty level to the city. My sister was
complaining that if you don't participate, you get negative
points for your Activities column. You get placed in Rank
D. That means you wouldn't be able to get further
schooling, or land a job. I thought it was a bit harsh, don't
you think so?"
"It is. They're practically forcing us. And speaking of
which―it's a bit much these days, isn't it? Everywhere you
go lately, it's loyalty-level this, loyalty-level that. I kind of
find it weird―"
The slender woman was interrupted suddenly as
somebody grabbed her by the arm. White shirt, grey
pants. He was a nondescript middle-aged man with a
strong build.
"Um, what―?" the woman began.
"What were you talking about just now?"
"Excuse me?"
"What were you two talking about just now?"
The two women looked at each other. Their hearts
quickened. "W-We were only talking about... you know,
how hot it was... stuff like that..."
"Is that so? It rather sounded to me like you were
expressing some dissent, discontent towards the city. Am I
wrong?" The man's narrow eyes glinted. His words were
courteous, but the light in his eyes was sharp and fierce. It
made the women cower. Fear pierced through their
bodies.
The Security Bureau.
"N-No!" they protested. "Discontent―no―never, we
would never say that. We would never think of that. Not
us, we would never..." The black-haired woman clasped
her trembling fingers to her breast. Tears welled up in her
eyes. Help me. Mom, Dad. Help me.
"No matter. Will you kindly let me escort you two? We
will have plenty of time to hear your story later."
"How can you... that's not.. no..." Unable to bear it
any longer, the black-haired woman began to cry. The
slender woman was also shaking.
 "Kindly let us escort you." Another man in similar
clothing materialized and grabbed the woman's arm. His
fingers were shockingly cold.
No―that's not fair, we were only having a
conversation. We were only saying our thoughts out loud.
She was so stunned by the incident, no tears came.
She could not cry like her friend. The slender woman only
trembled.
"Come, then." The man's eyes flashed incisively.
I'm scared. I'm so scared. Help me, Mom, Dad.
―Mmgh.
There was a muffled groan. It had trickled from the
man's mouth. His eyes were bulging, wide open, and his
mouth was opening and closing like a fish. No voice came
out. Only his lips moved. His hands tore at his neck. His
face began to discolour into a dark shade.
"Wh-What's the matter?"
The man with the cold fingers reached out towards
her.
Ahhhh!!!
The woman screamed. She felt like her shriek would
tear her throat apart. The black-haired woman had
started screaming at almost the same time.
"Oh God!"
 The man stopped moving. He stiffened, his eyes and
mouth still open. They could see inside his mouth.
Plunk.
Something fell to the cobblestone with a soft sound.
Something small and white...
Teeth.
All the man's teeth were falling out of his mouth, one
after another. His hair was also falling out. Clumps of it
turned white and scattered all around. The man's eyes
rolled back into his head as he fell face-forward onto the
ground. His body convulsed. A black stain spread from his
neck. It swelled into a bump, and then―
An incomparably stronger wave of fear came crashing
down onto her. She felt like she would go insane. Perhaps
she was insane already. Perhaps she had gone mad, and
that was why she was seeing something that wasn't
supposed to exist. She had no other choice but to scream.
She had to raise her voice, and release her terror
somehow. If not, her body would swell and burst. She
would shatter.
The woman breathed in.
Ahhhh!
Eeeeek!
Before the woman could open her mouth, shrieks and
bellows welled up from the rest of the crowd. Here and
there, they rose and burst. Voices of men, shrill screams
of women, yells of young people, the clamouring of the
elderly―everything writhed, mingled and twisted around.
"Nooo!!" The black-haired woman was frantically
flapping her hands and feet. She looked like she was doing
a disturbing dance. "Someone―someone's there. Inside
me. Help―help me―!" Her teeth fell out as she opened her
mouth to scream.
Plunk, plunk, plunk.
A stain was spreading from the black-haired woman's
neck.
"It's poison!" someone was saying. "Run! We've been
poisoned."
She heard another voice. It was saying, "we're all
gonna die."
It's poison. Run. We're all gonna die. It's poison. Run.
We're all gonna die.
The woman stepped over the fallen man, and tried to
break into a run. But before she did, she saw something
glitter suddenly before her eyes. A bug? Someone shoved
at her back. A fat woman tumbled and fell close by. A
mass of bodies stampeded over her ruthlessly.
This is Hell. I have to get out of here―quickly―right
away. Unconsciously pressing a hand to her own neck, the
woman leapt over the bodies strewn on the ground, and
broke into a desperate sprint.
 The Holy Celebration Day, 2017.
7:02 am - Lost Town

Karan was baking pastries. Cravats, in fact. She

twisted the dough, which had powdered almonds in it,
into the shape of a necktie. She fried it, flavoured it with
orange curacao, and sprinkled it with icing sugar as a
finishing touch.
"It looks delicious," Lili said as she swallowed hungrily.
"And it is. Let me set aside ones I won't put out for the
shop, and we'll eat them together with some tea. Or
would you prefer some warm milk with that, Lili?"
"I want cold milk. I like cold milk better."
"Alright, we'll do that. Some nice iced milk, but not
too much, or else it'll give you a tummy-ache. But
remember Lili, before that―"
"I have to help with the store, right?" she finished. "I'm
gonna do a really good job. I love being able to help with
your store, ma'am. It's exciting."
"Today's the Holy Celebration, so it'll be very busy."
"I know. First I say 'hello and welcome' right, and then
I put the rolls and muffins in the bag."
"Mm-hmm. And make sure to tell them, 'please feel
free to use the trays on the table by the entrance. You can
put your items on them.' And if the customers are
children, or can't use their hands or legs, ask them, 'may I
get that for you?'"
"'Hello, and welcome! Please feel free to use the...
the..."
"Trays on the table, by the entrance."
"Trays on the table by the entrance. You can put your
items on them. May I get that for you?"
"Brilliant, Lili! That's the spirit. And don't forget to
smile."
Lili's nostrils flared appreciatively. "It's easy to smile
when it smells so good. My cheeks just melt, like this." As
she cupped her own cheeks, a shadow flitted across Lili's
eyes. Her tone dropped slightly too.
"Ma'am?"
"Yes, darling."
"Can I take some of these pastries back to Daddy?"
"Of course. I'll leave some for both your Mommy and
Daddy―why, Lili, what's wrong? Has something happened
to Renka?"
Karan had heard that Lili's mother Renka was pregnant
with her second child. Perhaps something had happened.
Residents of the elite residential area of Chronos would be
promised thorough and meticulous aid and treatment from
specialized medical staff, from conception to birth.
However, a Lost Town resident could only dream of
receiving medical care at the level of Chronos residents.
The mortality rates of invalids, the elderly, and children
were manyfold compared to Chronos.
Karan was not discontented with her life in Lost Town.
But numerous times, she found herself forced to face the
fact that they were at the very bottom of the rigid
hierarchy which the city had created.
She felt her spine freeze.
She felt a chill not from the realization that they were
at the bottom, but at the very reality that people were
dominating over other people and reigning over them in
this way. She also felt a chill at herself, for not realizing
this sooner.
Oh, how careless she had been.
Lili shook her head. Her fine, flaxen hair swished.
"It's not my Mommy. It's about Daddy."
"Getsuyaku-san? Has something happened to him?"
"He had to go to work, even though it's the Holy
Celebration Day."
The Holy Celebration was one of No. 6's most revered
holidays. Education institutions and government
organizations were closed as a matter of course, as well as
most city shops and offices. The majority of citizens
gathered in the square in front of city hall to listen raptly
to the mayor's speech, and to celebrate the birth and
proliferation of No. 6. Participation had been moving more
toward mandatory since last year. By making citizens pass
through gates into the square, the city could tell instantly
if they did or did not participate in the ceremonies. Any
citizen who did not have a valid reason for not
participating that fit the criteria laid out by the
authorities were investigated in detail. Rumour said they
were more like interrogations.
Karan felt that this city was becoming more
suffocating by the day. But still, many citizens
participated in the festivities not because they were
forced, but because they wanted to. They gathered of
their own will, and waved their gold-embroidered flags of
white cloth. Of their own will – was this really so?
"Ma'am, the pastry." Lili was blinking. Karan realized
she had been clenching a cravat in her fist.
"Oh, dear, I've let one go to waste. So," she hastily
resumed, "Getsuyaku-san couldn't take the day off?"
"Nope..."
The Holy Celebration was a large event, but there
were still many people who went to work as usual, or else
had no other choice but to go to work. Karan was one of
them. She could not live if she didn't work. Cakes and
sweet buns sold exceedingly well on celebratory days. On
these days "the cash came rolling in", to be vulgar about
it. Karan had planned to use this reason not to participate
in the ceremonies this year. On her Application for
Non-Participation, which had to be submitted beforehand,
she had to fill in her job description, monthly profits, and
the predicted earnings if she opened her shop during the
holiday. She was also required to submit it in person to the
reception counter of the city. Although it was extra hassle,
and although it would have been much easier to just close
her shop and participate, Karan chose not to.
I can't let myself be pushed along down the easier
path.
She had always let herself be pushed into making the
easier choice. She had gotten out of practice of swimming
against the current. She had let her heart go numb, and
been swallowed all too easily in the flow. Hadn't she
learned the hard way what the result of that had been?
Her son had been snatched away.
Her son's best friend had been snatched away.
Her most important things had been snatched from her
suddenly and unfairly. She would not let herself be washed
away anymore. She had to dig her heels in, or else she
would be ashamed to look Shion or Safu in the eye again.
She would not be able to throw her arms around them
unreservedly when they came home. That was the last
thing she wanted to lose.
"Lili, are you lonely because your Daddy's not here?
But I guess we can't help it if it's his job, huh."
"No," Lili protested. She shook her head again.
"Mommy already said we can't help it. But that's not it. I'm
not lonely because of Daddy. I get to help you with your
shop, ma'am, and it's exciting. All my friends were jealous
when I told them I got to work at a bakery―so I'm not
lonely, I'm just―I'm... I'm worried."
"About your father?"
Lili nodded.
"Why? Has something happened that's making you
worry, Lili?"
"Not really," she said hesitantly. "Daddy always gives
me a kiss on the cheek before going to work. He said it
makes him feel all happy inside. He said it's kind of like a
good-luck charm."
"My, isn't that nice of him."
"Yeah. He's the best. But today, he forgot. He went to
work without kissing me. He left by himself, while Mommy
and me were talking in the kitchen... he didn't even say
he was leaving. He just left."
"Maybe he was busy."
"I dunno. But he didn't eat much breakfast either. Just
half a slice of bread and coffee. He was sighing, too. Like
this." Lili slumped her shoulders, and let out a huff of air.
Karan felt an outpouring of love for her.
Lili was concerned about her father, in her own way.
'Maybe he's troubled about something, maybe he's
tired'―she noticed these little changes in her stepfather,
her mother's second spouse, with a sharp eye. And she was
concerned about him. Lili had the experience of losing her
father right before her eyes at a young age. Did this
kindness of hers come from this experience?
"Lili..." Karan felt love for this tiny little soul. She
crouched down at eye-level to Lili, and stroked her flaxen
hair. "Keep smiling. Your smile is my good-luck charm. It
makes me sad when I see you with that frown, Lili."
"Ma'am... Daddy didn't kiss me today, but that's okay,
right? God will protect Daddy, won't He?"
"Of course. I know: why don't you give your Daddy a
kiss this time when he comes home, Lili?"
"Sure, I'll do that."
"Alright, let's open the store, shall we? Can you line
the cravats on the tray and put them out on the rack?"
Cheep-cheep. She heard squeaking.
"Mr. Mouse! You're still here?" Lili chirped happily. A
brown mouse was twitching its nose from underneath the
table. It placed its front paws together, and bobbed its
head up and down. Karan realized quickly that it was a
farewell gesture.
"You're going back to your master, then?" And back to
my son? Karan broke off a piece from the pastry she had
crushed in her fist earlier, and placed it in front of the
mouse. The mouse picked it up in its front paws, and
began to nibble at it without hesitation.
"Ma'am, look, the pastry and Mr. Mouse are the same
colour."
 "Oh. Come to think of it, they are. You have the same
colour of fur as a cravat."
Cheep cheep cheep. The mouse raised its face and
fixed its gaze on Karan. It had beady grape-coloured eyes.
"Cravat... is that your name? Cravat?"
Cheep-cheep. The mouse squeaked back as if to say,
'yes it is'.
"Cravat. What a nice name. Goodbye, then, Cravat.
Please tell your master that I'm thankful. That his words
give me so much support... I'm very, very thankful. Please
tell him that." And if you can, please tell Shion too. That
I'm waiting―that Mom will always be waiting, and she'll
never give up. So tell him to come home alive.

The short letter she had received from Nezumi. How

much courage those words had given her.

What a firm and valorous message it was. It had

supported her crumbling heart all this time. Nezumi,
would I have the chance to embrace you? Would I be able
to take you in my arms along with Shion? I could keep
waiting, couldn't I, and believe that I can someday?
Cravat finished his last morsel, touched his front paws
together, and bobbed his head. Then he scurried off into a
corner of the room, and quickly disappeared out of Karan's
sight.
"There he goes." Lili frowned. "Is he gone forever?"
"No, we'll see him again. Certainly some other day.
Right, let's open the shop. It'll get busy, and I'm counting
on you, Lili."
"Yes, Ms. Shopkeeper! Leave it to me." Lili swept into a
theatrical bow. Karan laughed as she opened the door of
her shop. She could see the sky. Its clear blue made her
eyes water. The wind was freezing, but it looked like it
would be a sunny day. It looks like the weather will be
great―
She felt a chill. Goosebumps formed on her skin.
What? What is it?
She clasped her hands together instinctively. It was
cold. She felt like her whole body was growing cold from
the inside. It was only for a split second, but she felt her
face tense, and her hands and feet turn rigid. The hairs on
her body stood on end.
She felt her skin bristle. Again, and again. Something
was closing in on her, something she couldn't see.
 A crowd of chattering people passed alongside her,
city flags in hand. They were participating in the walking
rally from the Lost Town gates to city hall. She saw several
familiar faces. There were those who nodded at Karan in
acknowledgement; those who gazed at Karan curiously;
those who paused in their step to smell the aroma of fried
pastries which was wafting out onto the street. There was
a father holding hands with his child; young couples; an
old woman with a hat perched upon her snowy head.
They would walk to city hall, and from there take part
in the ceremonies. Midway through the route, all
participants were supposedly going to receive boxed
lunches from the city bureau. Each and every face bore a
relaxed smile, like they were enjoying a picnic on a day
off.
Karan could only stand still.
Shiver.
She could feel the goosebumps rise on her skin like
fizz. She shivered as she looked up at the sky. It was clear
and blue. The winter sky, like a blue pane of glass,
stretched out above her head. But there was something
there, in that sky. She could feel it.
She couldn't see it, or hear it. She could only feel.
Something was there.
Something was coming.

The Holy Celebration Day, 2017.

 Unknown time
A room in the ruins, West Block.

Inukashi awoke. He had fallen asleep without realizing

it. How rare. I wonder when I last slept like this. It might
even be when he was still a baby, suckling on his mother
dog's teat.
Death was always close by in the West Block, and violence
and armed robbery were daily occurrences. Thieves could
come sneaking into the ruins with weapons at any time.
Even with his dogs there, he couldn't relax. Inukashi had a
good sense of the horrid environment in which he lived,
and the terror that lurked in it. That was why he never
slept deeply. His nerves were always honed to pick up any
approaching danger immediately, whether it be midnight
or dawn. He was like a small wild animal.
But he had fallen into a deep sleep just now. He
couldn't believe himself, that he of all people had nodded
off unawares, if even for a short time.
Am I just tired? He raked his bangs up. I'm just worn
out from what's about to happen―what I'm about to do.
That's gotta be it. Even my stomach started to hurt from
nerves.
I'm exhausted because of you guys, you know that? You
good-for-nothings. More unwanted than the plague.
He tried hurling complaints at illusions of Shion and
Nezumi. Nezumi remained expressionless, but Shion
hunched his shoulders apologetically. Inukashi raked his
bangs up again. He gave a great stretch, and swung his
neck around.
Hmm?
His body felt lighter than he expected. He was
famished, but not painfully. He had slept well, and he felt
like energy was coursing through his body. So my body
wanted sleep not because it was dead tired, but because
it wanted to store energy.
Geez, self, you're serious about this, aren't you? He
clicked his tongue unconsciously. The more he associated
with Nezumi and Shion, the more confused he became
about where his honest opinions lay. Feelings that he had
kept at the very, very bottom of his heart simply slipped
out. It made him annoyed enough to click his tongue. Yet
he welcomed it at the same time.
So I'm pretty serious about this, then. He tried
whistling. The black dog at his feet gave a twitch of its
ear.
I've made the decision to fight the battle with them.
And that meant believing. I guess it means... somewhere
inside, I'm trying to believe in them, in the future, and
more than anything, in myself.
An irritating guttural noise wrenched Inukashi away
from his thoughts. Rikiga was curled up in a blanket,
snoring loudly. Several empty liquor bottles were littered
around him. It felt like every time he breathed out, he
released liquor-smelling fumes. It made him feel ill.
 "Jesus. He's like the prime example of the adult you'd
never want to be." Inukashi sniffed disdainfully. He
glanced at a corner of the room. A purple blanket peeped
out from between the sprawled dogs. Rikiga had given it
to him for the baby. Rikiga had proudly said he had picked
it to match Shionn's eyes, but Inukashi thought it was a
garish, vulgar shade of purple. Not even close to the
colour of Shionn's eyes. He had taken it gladly though, of
course, since baby blankets were luxury items that you
couldn't exactly just "come across" in the West Block.
"Shionn?" The baby was silent. There wasn't even any
sound of breathing. Inukashi's heart began to palpitate.
Oy, come on...
It was unusual for babies or toddlers to survive in a
harsh environment like the West Block. Starvation,
hypothermia, disease, accident, and infanticide. Sudden
death, too. Death always wandered in search of prey,
changing form and shape each time. Powerless babies
were prey to the cuckoo bird of death.
"You're not dead, are ya? You gotta be kidding me." He
scooped up the blanket whole. Dark purple eyes, much
like Shion's, sparkled at him. Inukashi felt like he had
glimpsed a deep darkness. It was a colour of darkness that
flashed momentarily from within the layers and layers of
black. Shionn blinked. His plump lips puckered as if he
were demanding milk. Inukashi eased his racing heart.
"Shionn, you're alive. Don't scare me like that."
 The set of purple eyes shifted its gaze aside. Shionn
twisted in Inukashi's arms. Inukashi hastily readjusted his
arms to avoid dropping him. The baby neither laughed,
nor cried―it only looked straight ahead at something.
Inukashi felt like he was holding a strange creature in his
arms.
"What's wrong? What're you looking at?"
Shionn's gaze was not directed this way; it was
somewhere else, somewhere far off. Inukashi didn't know
where his gaze led.
"Shionn..." What's gotten into you? Why are you
making eyes like that? What can you see out there,
Shionn?
Fraught with uncertainties, Inukashi embraced the
baby fiercely.
The wind made noises as it whistled past the ruins
above.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 5
In my lusts

Who am I? A man seeking happiness. I sought it in

my lusts and did not find it. And all who live as I
did fail to find it.
-Tolstoy, "Walk in the Light While There Is Light" [1]
It was summer, and I had just turned twenty when I was
chosen as a core member of the rebirth project.
When I was born, this planet was already in the midst
of danger. Due to numerous wars, pollution, and
environmental destruction, over half of the territory on
earth had been devastated to the point of becoming
inhabitable for human life.
Global warming had sparked a spread of whole new
contagious diseases; weather patterns were abnormal and
unpredictable; wars between nations and tribes were
neverending; nuclear weapons were being used.
By the time we realized it, humankind had driven
itself to the verge of extinction. We survivors only realized
after being this close to the edge that we had to reflect
on the foolishness of our actions.
Our national framework had long crumbled away. So
we thought, why not live life over again? This time, let's
live our lives proper, and not make the same mistake.
The people who had managed to survive on this planet
crossed the borders of race, nationality and ethnic origin,
and vowed to live humbly upon the foundations of peace
and harmony.
And so six cities were born.
There were not many regions left which were suitable
for human life. Half of humankind had died out. People
gathered in those limited regions, and gradually began to
build their own cities.
 There was once a city here as well. It was a beautiful
city. There was an almost miraculous amount of abundant
nature still left intact on this stretch of land. Admittedly,
there was no ocean―but there were deep forests, lakes
and marshes, and plains. Yes: it was indeed miraculous. It
was a place of miracles, like the rose that blooms in the
midst of blasted pieces of rubble.
The city was established, and the people lived quietly,
abiding by their vow. I was born in that city. I was born, I
grew up, and I became a researcher. So did your mother,
Shion.
Having said so, the elder smiled.
"My mother?"
"Yes. Karan grew up in the same town, and she lived
there too."
"What kind of relationship did you have with my
mother?"
The elder's smile widened. It carried a hint of
boyishness. "We were childhood friends."
"Huh?"
"Karan and I were childhood friends. I was much older
than her, but we often played together. Karan was very
skilled at climbing trees, and she could scramble up any of
them, no matter how big. It often made me nervous, how
daring she could be sometimes. Yes, I remember. She was
a beautiful and free-thinking girl. To think she is now a
mother with a grown son..."
 "I don't care about Shion's mother," Nezumi
interrupted. "Or did you and Karan fall in love, and was
Shion born? Is that how it's gonna unfold? That would be an
interesting twist."
"Nezumi!" Shion said sharply.
Nezumi shrugged, throwing a glance at him.
"Third-rate plays are usually written like that. Rou, I want
you to speed it up. You said so yourself: we don't have
time. There was a city, and you were born and raised
there, and became a researcher. Then you were chosen as
a member of the rebirth project. From there... things
started going haywire."
The elder drew a breath. "Is that what you think?"
"I do. Just look at the name, 'rebirth project'. It sounds
phony already. What are you gonna rebirth? What were
you planning on reviving, anyway? No wait, I already know
the answer. The city got repaired, albeit only barely. Life
was getting back on track for most people. They were
freed from their days of being bedmates with death and
extinction. Then after a few more years down the road,
you were ready to forget your past mistakes. You wanted
to abandon your vow, and dominate over the land again.
That was what the project was for. They were probably
gathering intelligent young people. It was the start of a
project to become more developed, more powerful, more
wealthy. Am I right?"
 Nezumi knitted his brow. Hatred and loathing were
chiseled into his refined profile. He spat the words from
his mouth.
"Fools."
The elder's body trembled and grew rigid as if the
word had struck him like a whip.
"Repeating your past mistakes: it's the epitome of
foolishness. But you wanted to dominate. You contrived to
make yourselves more plentiful by using the people and
things around you as stepping stones. As a result, a
hideous monster was born in a land that was once like a
rose in the ruins. That was No. 6."
More developed, more powerful, more wealthy. Was
No. 6 what towered at the end of this desire? Shion also
felt himself tremble.
"It was in a blink of an eye," the elder sighed. "The city
grew at astonishing speeds. Sometimes I wonder if it
hadn't all been a nightmare."
"It's reality. It's unmistakable, and you guys created it.
Rou, weren't the people at the centre of the rebirth
project the same people who are at the administrative
core of No. 6 right now?"
"They were all there. Everyone was young and
intelligent. Each one of them had his own strong ideal."
"All the faces in this photo?"
 "Yes. However, they are not the entire group. That―is
from when Karan came to visit my lab. I remember, the
person who took this photo was a young journalist who
was here to do research. He also had his own ideals and
sense of duty as a journalist."
"Well, he's just an alcoholic geezer now. He probably
has less sense of duty left than the dirt under his nails.
But even he's a hundred times better than you people. He
let the alcohol get to his head―but not his ideologies.
Each had his own strong ideal, huh? And this is where it
took everyone in the end?"
"Nezumi―I want you to believe this much. We tried to
found an ideal city here, a Paradise free of war and
poverty... where we could have gone wrong, I don't
know..."
Nezumi laughed scornfully. "People can't become God.
Humans can't create Paradise. You guys thought you could
be God, an almighty Creator. You thought you were
all-powerful. That moment is when you fell. You began to
corrupt. The cogwheels started turning backwards. You
stopped paying heed to people's feelings, and their
suffering and brutality were no longer in your line of sight.
All you had was your greed to satisfy your ideologies―no,
your own selfish desires. In order to achieve that, you
thought you would be forgiven for doing anything. You
didn't even need to beg for forgiveness―begging was
below you. What Paradise? All you did was create an
arrogant and ruthless monster surrounded by alloy walls,
and turn everywhere else around it into Hell."
 There was no heat in Nezumi's words. They rang out
coldly, and at a measured pace. But Shion could perceive
the stormy emotions whipping about inside Nezumi. He
could hear the inferno raging.
"By the time I had realized it―" the elder said, "the
change in No. 6 had already begun. The walls were built,
which isolated it from its surroundings. It leeched the
wealth of everything around it, and tried to sustain itself
solely within its walls. An absolute authority was born,
and organizations to support that absolute authority
sprang up and established themselves."
"Were you too engrossed in your experiments to notice
anything? That doesn't make you any less guilty."
"Of course. My crime is grave. I was, after all... on the
side which massacred your family and friends."
"What?" Shion sat up without thinking. He looked back
and forth at the faces of Nezumi and the elder.
"So it's true," Nezumi murmured. His tone was almost
the opposite of before, somewhat frail and uncertain. "So
it's true. That's how it is, then. I knew that you'd been
exiled from No. 6 and become part of the underground
people. I had a sneaking suspicion that you played a
central role in the birth of No. 6. But to think you were
part of that massacre... I didn't want to think that could
be true."
"Massacre? Nezumi, what's this about?"
 "The history of No. 6. The Mao Massacre. Over a
hundred people were murdered."
"Mao Massacre..."
"Bet you've never even heard of it."
"No, I haven't... this is my first time."
"Nothing to be embarrassed about. No one knows
about it, except for the perpetrators and the victims. It's
probably the incident in which No. 6 revealed its hideous
rearing head for the first time. That's why it was covered
up. There are no records. But it's in my memory, and it'll
never fade. It's burned an image that'll never disappear."
"When did it happen?"
"Twelve years ago."
"Twelve years! So I was already born."
"Long born. You'd already been certified as an elite,
and you would have been living in your mansion in Chronos
by that time. What an active and adorable little boy you
must have been."
Shion found himself grabbing Nezumi's arm.
"Tell me. What happened? Who got killed? Is it the
Hunt? Is it something that happened in the West Block?"
"No."
"Then, where?"
"In the forest."
 "Forest? You mean the woods that spread to the
north?"
Nezumi brushed Shion's fingers away. At the same
time, he turned his body and dug his own fingers into
Shion's arm.
"Listen." Nezumi's breath was on his earlobe. It was
cold. "I'll tell you." His fingers drew away from Shion's arm
and pressed against his throat, slowly tracing the red mark
that snaked around it.
"You have a red scar, a gift from the parasite wasp,
right?"
"Not a gift I was happy to get."
"I have one too. A gift from No. 6, if you will."
"Huh?"
Nezumi cast off his shirt. He half-turned to show his
back. Shion felt his throat close up. His breath caught.
"Nezumi, this―"
There was a raised scar on the smooth skin between
Nezumi's shoulders and hips. It was about the size of an
adult palm. That spot was coloured pale pink, and was
taut like a burn scar. It looked even more out-of-place
because of the smoothness of the skin around it. It looked
like a gigantic spider was splayed over his back.
"Keloids, huh..."
"Yeah. Graciously given to me twelve years ago."
 Shion stretched out his hand to touch the spot which
looked like it could be the spider's head. He slid his
fingertip along the scar as if to trace its outline. Nezumi
did not resist. He stood like a statue as if to give in to the
movement of Shion's fingertips.
"I never... noticed." Shion let out a sigh almost without
thinking. Not once four years ago, when he had treated
the graze wound on Nezumi's shoulder, nor in these past
few months they spent together, did he notice. Had
Nezumi skilfully hidden it from him?
"Of course." Nezumi crouched suddenly, and retrieved
his shirt. "What reason do I have to show you? I'd have to
get naked. You wouldn't wanna be stark naked in front of
me either, would you? Even though I've had the privilege of
seeing it once already."
"Well... but..." He wished Nezumi would have revealed
it. He wished Nezumi had revealed this scar earlier. He
wanted Nezumi to speak about the past which surrounded
it. Shion didn't have the right to accuse him of why he had
hidden it up until now, and why he had said nothing. But
that was why he wanted Nezumi to open up and tell him.
If only he had earlier...
Shion knew he would have done so. He would expose
his body, his mind, his scars, and where his heart lay. He
had done so before. Nezumi doesn't trust me completely.
He hasn't acknowledged me as someone who is worth
exposing everything to. What can I do to bridge this
barrier between us, this chasm?
 He gritted his teeth.
That's enough. This isn't the time to be wallowing in
my emotions. This isn't such a forgiving situation, I know
that much.
Keloids. Abnormal raising of the scar. Due to a burn?
"We were burned," Nezumi said, as if he had seen right
through Shion's heart. His voice was brittle. It became a
force of impact that slammed into Shion.
"Burned? ...What do you mean, burned?"
"That's what happened. One day, some soldiers came
in with firearms, and cleared us out by burning us down."
Raging flames swirled before his eyes.
They cleared us out by burning us down.
Nezumi stood in front of Shion, and began to speak.
His tone was regular and emotionless.
"My people, Shion―we were once called the Forest
People. Even before No.6... no, even before the Town of
the Rose, which would become the beginnings of No. 6, we
lived in the forest, and it was our home. We were in
harmony―true harmony with the wind, the earth, the
water and the sky, and with animals and plants. For all of
that time."
The elder raised his hand shakily.
"Yes, Shion. The Forest People used to inhabit this
land. That is why so much nature has managed to remain
miraculously intact."
 "What kind of people are the Forest People?" Shion's
heart raced; he was about to step further into Nezumi's
truth.
"They are born in the forest, and they lived there," the
elder said. "They made the forest thrive, treated it with
respect, and protected it. They were able to converse
with the wind, water, trees, and grasses, and align their
hearts with them. They lived in a totally opposite manner
from how we do. They did not wish for growth nor
development; they only lived quietly within the laws of
nature. This land has always been protected by these
people... that is how it has been."
The elder let out a long sigh, and lowered his head. As
the sigh left him, his body seemed to deflate and shrink in
size.
"It was a lush forest... there were all kinds of animals
and plants, large and small. Seasons passed, flowers
bloomed, fruits ripened, leaves thickened, and life
pulsated as it was nurtured and passed on."
"And No. 6 destroyed it all." Nezumi's voice was now
reduced to a whisper. His beautiful murmur rocked Shion's
eardrums and heart.
"Shion, you probably had no idea it was happening, but
No. 6 was still burgeoning when you were born. They tried
to swallow every single piece of land which was suitable
for their habitation and make it their own. They
concluded that we were in the way. We were people of
the forest―we obeyed the laws of the forest, but refused
to worship anything else. We refused to become part of
No. 6. Back then, the wall was finishing up at a
considerable speed. Only those on the inside of the silver
wall were to be treated like humans. As for those outside,
they could invade it or destroy it however they liked―that
was becoming No. 6's stance. And in accordance with it,
they invaded the entire forest, and stole it from us. You
understand what I'm saying?"
"I do."
"Can you imagine what I'm going to say next?"
Shion nodded. He could feel his neck creak. "No. 6's
army... invaded your village. They thought, if you weren't
going to comply... they would destroy you all..."
"Yeah. Nice, you've learned to see through things
better."
Shion clutched at his chest. His heart wasn't just
racing―it was palpitating, and he couldn't breathe
properly.
"And then, that time... what were you doing...?"
"I was sleeping. It was nighttime. I was still young. I
was too young... to remember a lot of things. I don't
remember my mother's face, nor my father's voice. I just
remember it was hot. And the viciousness of the flames
which devoured everything... I remember. I remember it,
Shion."
"They burned down... the whole village."
 "They burned it down and killed everyone off.
Indiscriminately. They burned down houses with people
still in them, and shot those who tried to flee. Can't you
just see it? You've already experienced the Hunt. No. 6 has
repeated that Hell many, many times."
He could see it. He could see vividly the scene of the
massacre. Even though he himself had been captured in
the Hunt, thrown down into darkness, come this far,
always by Nezumi's side; even though he had been
amongst the abused, in the scene he watched now, Shion
was on the side that was perpetrating the murder. He was
pointing the flamethrower and the fire which spurted out
of it at the elderly, children, men and women.
Sweat soaked his skin. He felt ill.
"But you were saved. You suffered burns... but you
survived."
"An old woman―I don't know whether she was my real
grandmother. But an old woman took me in her arms, and
made a desperate escape. Thanks to her, I was able to
survive."
"Your family, were they―"
"None of them lived."
He swallowed the spit in his mouth. It was bitter. Very
bitter.
"So No. 6 invaded your forest, destroyed it, and went
on extending its territory."
 "That's right. It was around where the airport is now.
The woods that dot the place are the remnants of the
forest. They must've wanted land to make a runway on. A
few years after the massacre, No. 6's walls stretched out
into the form they are today."
A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. There was still
a bitter taste in his mouth.
"There's more," Nezumi said. "It's about how I got
imprisoned into this underground part of the Correctional
Facility."
"Right―let's hear it."
Heh. Nezumi laughed without warning. It was a
carefree, yet somehow ironic smile, unique to Nezumi
only.
"You don't look like you want to. You've gone all pale.
Like a sheet."
"I'll listen. I want to. Nezumi, I want to hear your story
until the end. I think I have the obligation... to hear it."
Nezumi's fingers pinched Shion's chin.
"Is that how you really feel?"
"I promised. I said I would never lie to you again. I'll
keep the promise. And―if it's possible..."
"If what's possible?"
"I don't want to lie to myself, either."
"A fine challenge."
 The fingers retreated. A smile graced the face which
had fallen sombrely a moment before. There was no more
irony or coldness in his face. Shion even thought it looked
gentle. When he saw that smile, he felt the strength
suddenly leave him. He felt dizzy. He felt like the ground
had disappeared under his feet, like he was floating in the
air. His whole body grew cold.
He was fainting.
"Shion?"
"It's nothing." He spread his feet apart, and supported
his crumbling posture.
I'm not gonna fall here. Everything's starting. It's only
starting. I have to listen... I have to hear him say the
truth. He closed his eyes. Just as he expected, the raging
inferno was still swirling behind his eyelids. People rolled
about on the ground, burning. He could even hear the
bloodcurdling screams and smell the stench of burning
flesh.
Am I on the side of the murderers?
Twelve years ago, I was in Chronos. In my comfortable
room, I enjoyed sumptuous meals, and slept in a clean
bed. Even while Nezumi was being burned and nearly
killed, I was given everything, and was living a life I didn't
deserve.
Who could say that this wasn't a sin? Even if I was a
young child, I was still living in the same world as those
who were doing the massacring. It's an immovable truth: I
was on the side of No. 6, not Nezumi. Could anyone say
this wasn't a sin? Could I―and I'm not anyone―I'm no one.
The darkness wavered. Nezumi's figure blurred. All
sounds faded away. Then, a pair of arms slid underneath
his armpits.
"That's enough. Shion, this is as far as I'm gonna go."
Nezumi tightened his grip. The sensation brought Shion
back to his senses.
"You're―well, I am too―we're both exhausted out of
our wits. We've managed to drag ourselves through this
gruelling experience, not to mention we were on our toes
for the whole time. We're probably both as tired as we can
possibly get. It's alright. Rest. Take some time to wind
down. If you don't, your heart's gonna give."
"...I can't... hear any songs."
"Huh?"
"Even if I start to lose consciousness, I can't hear...
songs, like you do..."
"Shion."
"I can't... do it."
"Shion, look at me."
He shifted his gaze, and looked up at the pair of grey
eyes, which were calm and peaceful.
"I told you before. I'm me, and you're you. We can't do
the same things. We can't be the same. But we can
support each other like this. Both of us. Back there, you
supported me, and gave me water. You were probably
thirsty as hell yourself, but you saved every little drop for
me. Shion... you were born inside the walls, and I've been
living outside of them. That's the reality of it, and we
can't help it. No one can change the fact. But when the
other is about to fall, we stretch our hand out without
even thinking, and try to support him. We can't help it. We
give him water. We try to protect him. That's another
truth about us."
"Nezumi..."
"I didn't mean to make you feel guilty. I didn't mean to
accuse you of any crime. I―can't even imagine wanting to
hurt you. I'm sorry. I should have thought a little more
about your situation."
Something hot pushed at the back of Shion's eyes.
Even before he could vocalize it, tears streamed down his
face.
How embarrassing. How pathetic, to be crying like
this.
He clamped his teeth over his lip, and tried to hold
the tears that welled up. But sobs managed to push their
way through between his clenched teeth.
Don't be kind to me. Don't apologize. I wouldn't have
minded if you blamed me, hurt me, accused me of any
crime. If you didn't, I would keep taking advantage of it. I
would lean on this reality you speak of, and I would keep
excusing myself to no end. I'm still that weak.
 He couldn't control his emotions. His nerves, which
had been on-edge until now, had a hard time bounding
back once they gave way. They ignored Shion's will as they
let the tears fall freely.
"Don't cry." Nezumi's hand patted his back. "Don't you
cry. You were just a tiny kid. You're not to blame for
anything. The guys who should pay for their crime are the
adults. The adults who gave birth to that creature and let
it grow this large should be the ones to pay the penalty.
Isn't that right, Rou?"
"Yes. The crime rests entirely with us."
"Then what's your personal crime? What have you
committed?"
"I created the seed of the massacre."
It was like the air had frozen over. Nezumi's arms
trembled softly beneath Shion's armpits.
"That massacre was not carried out to acquire land for
a runway. It was to acquire Elyurias."
Elyurias. The great sovereign.
"We never had a sovereign, at least I don't remember
there being one. I've never even heard of the name
before," Nezumi said.
"Naturally. I was the one who named her. Your people
did not give her a name, but you did revere her. You
revered her as you did the other trees, the sun, and the
moon, and you feared her. Yes―you feared her. She had
power. She had a power that neither we nor you
had―probably a power no human could possess. That is
why No. 6 desired her. They desired her power.
Nezumi―your people knew everything about her power,
and you feared and revered her. You never thought of
using her as a device for your own prosperity. That is the
difference between your people and us. However, I was
not directly involved in that massacre. Nevertheless, I
know that is no excuse."
"Let's just hear the truth. What role did you play?"
"I―I met Elyurias in the forest, discovered her power,
and reported it. You could say I was entranced by her. I
was obsessed with her, and I submitted a massive research
report about her. The upper echelons of No. 6 expressed a
strong interest, and contributed generous research grants
to me. They called me a rare gem of a researcher. I had
grown giddy with fame and fortune. Oh―"
The elder's words trailed off. Just for a moment, his
gaze wandered in the air.
"What?"
"No... I remember Karan saying to me around that
time. She said she was afraid of me. She said there was a
frightening, dangerous sort of look on my face. She said
she was afraid of me, and she didn't know why... it was
long afterwards when I finally realized why. Yes... I had
not realized... the change in myself, nor in No. 6... I even
laughed at Karan's fear. I had not realized that I had
thrown my ideals away, and that I had wandered off the
path I intended to walk. But―by that time, the dominant
organizations of No. 6 had already been formed, and they
were fast becoming concrete. A military was being
assembled discreetly, and a skillful system of controlling
and dominating people was nearing completion. I never
knew―I had not realized in the slightest. I had still
believed... I had still..."
"...that No. 6 was a utopian city?"
"Yes. A pacifist city with hopes of eternal peace at its
foundation, interacting with the world, armed with no
weapons whatsoever. A city that insured a humane life for
each and every person; one that respected each and every
person as a human being. No. 6 and the world, science
and nature, ideal and reality would come together in
harmony, with no contradictions. I believed in it. I
believed it, immersed myself in my research, and...
brought tragedy. I never imagined that No. 6 would have
an army. I never imagined that they would mobilize their
military and invade the surrounding realms. When I
learned of the truth of the massacre, it was already a
long, long time after the incident had occurred... but I
panicked. It hit me with an impact enough to make my
body go rigid. It was then that I finally realized the
meaning behind Karan's words. I realized that I had been
drunk with joy over the superficial successes of my work,
and had become one who couldn't feel, one who was numb
to the happenings around him, one who was more foolish
and dangerous than anyone could be. I realized this, and I
appealed to the uppers to clarify the truth of the
massacre. It was my own way of protesting."
Nezumi let his shoulders shake, as if he couldn't find
anything more funny about it.
"You thought they would listen to you?"
"I did."
"Naive."
"I had thought they were on my side. I had thought of
them as my own friends, fellow partners who shared the
hope and ideology of creating a utopian city―not
politicans, not researchers."
"So you made a fiery objection. And the result of that
was your arrest and imprisonment as a rebel."
"That is about right... they did not go so far as to kill
me, however."
"Even they still had some pity left."
"No... not that."
The elder slid his hand across his lap. "They probably
decided that there was no need to kill me after what my
body had undergone. Shion."
"Yes."
"Look at this." The elder stuck his arm out, and rolled
up the garment covering it.
".........."
 Nezumi shifted in his spot beside Shion. Shion also
held his breath, and leaned forward. A red banded scar
wound up the elder's arm from his elbow to his shoulder. It
meandered like Shion's, but the colour was a little darker
than his.
"This is... from the parasite wasp..."
"Now I can say so with certainty. Somewhere in my
body, there are probably remains of a wasp that could not
hatch. At the time, I was under house arrest by the
authorities. I had collapsed suddenly in my room and gone
unconscious. When I recovered fully, these marks were on
my arm... and both my legs had lost all functionality."
"Your legs..."
"You lost the colour of your hair, I lost my legs. As the
cost of survival, I suppose. However, at the time, no one
could grasp the exact cause of this, including myself.... If
the same thing happened now, I would have made a good
experimental specimen, perhaps, but at the time, there
was no such room for rational thought in the upper
echelons. They were immersed in the work of building
governing organizations. The Correctional Facility was still
under construction. I managed to hang on by a thread,
losing my legs in exchange, and was housed in the
underground caves. And so they cast me off. Shion, I was
the wasp's first host, and one who survived."
"Then, Rou―" Nezumi lifted his chin, and directed his
gaze straight up at the elder. It was piercing, like an
arrow.
 Amazing.
Nezumi was still in full control of himself. He was able
regulate his emotions and reason. Shion wiped his tears
with the back of his hand, and clenched it into a fist.
Nezumi had said that they couldn't be the same. Perhaps it
was so. But he could still try to bring himself closer.
I want to be resilient like he is. I want to preserve
myself. I want to stay as who I am.
I won't hope, or pray; I'm going to make a vow to
myself. One day, I'll become strong. I'll have the kind of
strength that will keep me from endlessly making excuses
to myself.
Nezumi pointed a finger to the heavens.
"Then, Rou, aren't the higher-ups gonna summon you
sometime soon? Maybe they've finally found out about the
incidents occurring in the city, and have got no idea what
to do about it. It's about time their arrogant gaze started
seeing reality for what it is. Don't you think they'd come to
you for help?"
"That will not happen. All of my research was
confiscated. They have probably analyzed all they could.
My power is now next to useless. I have grown old. I will
live the remainder of my life underground, and die―that is
my wish. I have neither the power nor will to change
reality. But I do know this much: what is about to happen
in No. 6 is many times more fearsome and destructive
than you presume. Many people will die. Neither I nor No.
6 can stop it. But you can."
 "Stop it? The death and destruction? What do I have to
stop it for? I couldn't wish for a more splendid outcome."
"Nezumi, the citizens will be the ones dying. Children
and adults will die indiscriminately. Are you saying you will
merely watch it happen?"
"What's wrong with that?"
"You said that Shion was not guilty of any crime. That
is true. In just the same way, with what crime could you
accuse the children inside the walls? If you will fold your
arms and watch, knowing that children will die... if you
will let it happen and do nothing... you, and any who do
the same―"
The elder straightened his back, and returned
Nezumi's gaze steadily.
"―are murderers."
Nezumi made a small strangled noise in his throat.
"It is not something for me to say. However, I must say
it. Nezumi, you are the survivor of a massacre. That is why
you cannot stand on the side of the murderers. You must
not let yourself become the same as those whom you
hate."
"Gh―"
Nezumi fell silent. Shion stepped forward.
"What should we do? What can we do?"
His mother was inside the city. There was also Lili, the
girl from his neighbourhood. There was her family. There
was the student who came to buy a roll every morning;
there was the worker he exchanged greetings with on the
way to his job.
A fleeting resemblance of Kalan―the girl he had met
in the West Block―overlapped with Lili's face. He didn't
know why.
I can't. I can't kill them.
"I do not know," the elder said. "I cannot foresee what
we can do to prevent this tragedy. Nothing presents itself
to me. You must act as your hearts tell you to. You―your
hearts―will be able to lead the people away from
destruction to salvation. To me that is how it seems, and I
cannot see it any other way. Shion."
"Yes."
"Take this." The elder slid his hand along his armrest. A
small drawer appeared. He plucked something small from
it, and offered it to Shion, giving another one of his
numerous sighs. He looked like he had rapidly aged. The
boyish glint in his eye had faded.
"This is... a chip."
"Yes. Almost the entirety of my research is in it.
Parasite wasps, Elyurias, the Forest People... everything.
After you have saved your friend, please try to decode it."
"Me?"
 "I entrust it to you. Now... I am a little tired. I have
not spoken this much in a long time. I am tired. I wish to
rest."
I entrust it to you. You must find the answer. Please
find an answer―one where no blood will be shed. Shion
heard the elder's unspoken words.
There were so many more mysteries: how this
underground realm came to be; how Nezumi found his way
here; his reason for leaving; all the things that happened
which led up to their meeting―he itched to know, but for
now, he would suppress those words of questioning inside
his heart.
This was the time to act, not learn.
Cheep-cheep-cheep! Cheep-cheep-cheep!
The mice were suddenly buzzing with noise. A rat at
Shion's feet raised its voice in apprehension.
Screech, screech!
Shion had heard this voice before. It was―
"Tsukiyo. Nezumi, Tsukiyo's here."
"I know. Geez, how can you differentiate them like
that?" Nezumi put his fingers to his lips, and whistled
shrilly.
Screech, screech! A small black mouse came
half-tumbling down the rocky wall.
Skrit, skrit. A sewer rat leapt up, and pounced on
Tsukiyo.
 "Stop!"
The sewer rat froze at Shion's command.
"He's not prey. He's one of us. Let him go." The sewer
rat lifted its paws which had been pinning Tsukiyo down.
The black mouse leapt to its feet as if on a spring, and
scurried up Nezumi's body.
"Good, you made it. A message from Inukashi?"
Tsukiyo nodded. There were wounds all over its tiny
body, and they were beginning to bleed. Nezumi lent an
ear to Tsukiyo's squeaking, and swallowed.
"Looks like everything is ready to go above-ground. We
have to act quickly. Rou, I would have wanted to hear a
little more of your story, but it looks like we don't have
time for that. We're gonna go."
"Then go you shall. Do you wish for anything?"
"Water and food. I'm so hungry, I feel like I'm gonna
pass out."
"It will be prepared immediately. Sasori, give them
whatever they wish."
"Before that―" Sasori drew up beside Nezumi.
"Nezumi, I want to ask you something."
"What?"
"Surely you are not thinking of blowing up the door
with a micro-bomb? If you do that, this place will collapse
as well."
 Nezumi furrowed his brow and looked at him in
exaggerated bewilderment. "Sasori, we've come through
the back gates of the Correctional Facility here. An old
bomb detector is still a bomb detector, and that gate's got
them. We could get knives or small firearms past them,
but not micro-bombs. If we could, we would've sneaked in
with at least a hundred on our backs."
"Fine. As long as you do not bring us into this mess."
"You doubting me?"
"Who knows what you will do. You are dangerous."
"Hey, I thought Shion was the demon here?"
"Demons do not cry." Sasori glanced at Shion. "Demons
do not cry... like that."
Shion felt his face burnt up at the man's words. He felt
painfully embarrassed.
"I found it strange," the man said. "To be able to cry so
unreservedly... very strange."
"Well, no," Shion stammered, "I―I was just really tired,
and... my nerves―stretched thin―that was it, really, it's
not like I cry like that all the time―"
The air shifted.
Sasori had laughed. It was the first smile Shion had
seen on him.
"You are interesting. You may be, perhaps... far more
decent than Nezumi."
 A sewer rat sat on Shion's shoulder and nudged him
with its nose.
"He says so too," the man said, indicating the rat. "He
says you are more decent."
"The hell is that supposed to mean?" Nezumi clicked
his tongue. Then he jerked his chin slightly.
"Let's go, Shion."
"Yeah."
"Rou. This is good-bye. It's probably the last I'll see of
you. This time, I won't come back."
"That is for the best. You are one who must live
above-ground. You are someone who must live in the light
and wind. I pray that we will never meet again. Ah, but
you are not in need of prayers, perhaps?"
"I'm not."
"Oh―Rou, I'm going too," Shion said. "I wish I could
have heard more of your story."
"I trust that the rest will come through your own
hands. Thanks to you, I have been able to relive memories
of Karan. But you do not need to tell her about me. You
should also forget about me yourself. This is farewell,
Shion."
"Good-bye. Thank you for everything."
They started walking.
 When Shion turned around, the candle had already
been extinguished. Darkness shrouded all that was behind
him.

***

The emergency lamp flashed and the buzzer rang.

The door to the Correctional Facility rolled up slowly
in front of Getsuyaku. He set a foot inside. White walls
and a white hallway spread before him, the picture of
cleanliness itself.
"What in the world is this, eh?" Getsuyaku was met
with a torrent of abuse as soon as he entered the
monitoring room. "What's wrong with these cleaning
robots? They're spouting odours and strewing trash
everywhere instead of cleaning it up. Have you even
maintained them properly?" The man was practically a
giant, almost one-and-a-half sizes bigger than Getsuyaku
in height and berth.
"I'm sorry. They've been acting up. I didn't even
imagine something like this would happen."
"Enough excuses. Clean it up, and quickly."
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, it stinks," said a woman with long hair, grimacing
as she pinched her nose. "I can't work in this stench." She
left the room, her voice congested. She trampled
Getsuyaku's toe on her way out, though whether she had
meant to do it or not, he didn't know. She gave him no
apology, nor did she even spare him a glance.
The room was divided by transparent walls into
several sections. The sections were arranged in
accordance to priority level, and the higher priority rooms
were placed further in. Getsuyaku was in a space near the
door, commonly called the Mannequin. This section dealt
mainly with monitoring ventilation. It was a department
relatively low on the priority scale, and that was probably
another reason why he had been let in without much
trouble.
"I'm very sorry." He went around with a vacuum,
sucking up the trash scattered over the floor.
"You're utterly useless. I can find a dozen
replacements for janitors like you, you know. Next time
you mess up, you're fired on the spot. Ugh, it smells
horrible. I can't stand it. Hm? What are you looking at?"
"Nothing, sir." Getsuyaku lowered his eyes.
"Do you have something to say? A complaint? A Lost
Town resident acting high and mighty now, eh?"
Getsuyaku felt a firm kick in the shins. He staggered,
and struck his hip hard on a corner of a desk.
"Well? Don't just stand there. Hurry up and work!"
A wind was dancing inside his head. No, it was whirling
fiercely. It was whipping up a tremendous noise.
 Damnit. He was mumbling. Damnit, damnit, damnit,
damnit.
What makes him think he can be so arrogant? What
have I done to be insulted by him? I'm just doing my job.
I've done my job all this time―honest and hard work.
―Well, I might've done a little smuggling, but still, I
haven't caused anyone trouble. You guys would've been
buried in trash if it weren't for me. Don't like the smell?
Dirty, you say? It's all stuff you guys have produced. Don't
give me this shit. Treating me like a dog. It doesn't matter
where I live; I'm still a human. I'm no mongrel.
His injured pride swelled into anger, and wiped clean
from Getsuyaku's breast any hint of uncertainty that had
lodged itself there.
He saw a fleeting image of Inukashi's tan face.
They go around acting cocky like that, and they've got
no idea how hard your work is, and how much it's worth.
They're looking down on you. So? How about you give
those cocky guys a piece of your mind? Not a bad idea, is
it?
You're absolutely right, Inukashi. It's not bad at all.
He threw a glance at the digital display on the wall.
Within No. 6―and this building was no exception―time
passed by with not so much as a 0.1-second delay.
A capsule lay on the floor at his feet. It had not
disintegrated.
Damn it all to hell.
 He stepped on it softly with his right foot. There was
another one. He did the same―
"What in the world―" The man stood up. His face was
contorted. "What is this horrid smell?"
"I have no idea..." Getsuyaku replied vaguely, "it smells
like rotting meat... I think it must've been mixed in with
the garbage..." He was right. The smell was horrid. It
wasn't an overpowering odour, but it was enough to grate
on his nerves. Even Getsuyaku, who was used to smelling
decay, felt ill.
"I can't stand it. Ugh―out of the way!" The man
covered his mouth and exited the room. He trampled
Getsuyaku's foot on the way out, just like the woman had.
"That hurts, what was that for?"
"Shut up. Move it!"
The man shoved his hand against Getsuyaku's chest.
He staggered, and bumped into the control panel.
Stop. It was the designated time.
Getsuyaku pretended to hold his hip and groan in pain,
and pressed the green button on the far right. While he
was at it, he pressed the changer switch. Now, this stench
would travel through the air ducts and waft into the
Facility. Getsuyaku didn't know what the green button was
supposed to do. He had only followed Inukashi's directions.
He raised himself unsteadily, and picked up the vacuum.
He began to clean.
 He was breaking out into a cold sweat.
How had he looked to the surveillance camera
positioned in the middle of the ceiling? Did his move seem
unnatural?
I've done it.
There was a melting capsule underneath the desk.
Fumes rose up thickly.
Getsuyaku strengthened the grip in his trembling
fingertips, and kept hold of his vacuum hose.

Shion.
I feel it. You're close by.

Shion.
I can feel you.

Don't come. Please, don't come.

I don't want to be seen by you.

Don't come, Shion.

I really
really
want to see you.

Another casualty. Over thirty in total, now. Social

class, wealth, history of illness, residence, sex, age, build,
lifestyle, all unrelated. Who was next―?
 Fear, uncertainty, and agitation mounted inside No. 6.
"What are the authorities doing?"
"Investigate and disclose the causes."
"Why aren't you taking any effective measures?"
"Dispatch the medics, hurry."
"Mayor, your emergency press conference."
What has happened to our No. 6? Our city, our No. 6,
what―

Nezumi's fingers tapped the door connected to the

Correctional Facility. Safu was beyond this door.
"It's almost time. We'll be launching the flashy
fireworks soon, Shion."
"Yeah."
"You nervous?"
"No. I've been thinking."
"What could you possibly think of at a time like this?"
Nezumi said incredulously.
"I was thinking about Safu. I want to see her."
"No need to jump the gun."
"And―I was wondering, just for a tiny instant."
"What?"
 "Whether it was possible to know everything about
you."
"Idle thoughts, huh."
"You think so?"
Nezumi's fingers yanked at Shion's earlobe. A sharp
pain shot through it.
"Shion, listen. From here on out is your stage. Once
the door opens, we'll be inside the Correctional Facility.
Get that brain working full-throttle. I'm gonna be acting
on your orders. You're my lifeline. Don't you dare break."
"Of course I won't. You don't even need to say so."
Nezumi smiled wryly, and stretched his hand out
palm-up. Shion placed his own hand on top.
Click.
There was a sound.
Click click click.
The automatic locks were being released.
"Perfect. I need to give Inukashi a reward later."
Click click click. Creak.
"Let's go, Shion."
"Right."
The door opened.
A white light stabbed at his eyes.
 It was blinding.
The light was overpowering.
The place overflowed with light, and glittered.
It was unmistakable―it was the world of No. 6.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 1
Your Last Embrace

O here
Will I set up my everlasting rest
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your
last.
Arms, take your last embrace!
[1]
-Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act V Scene III

A white light stabbed at his eyes.

It was blinding.
The light was overpowering.
The place overflowed with light, and glittered.
It was unmistakable―it was the world of No. 6.
 Yes, No. 6 had always been like this. Brimming with
light; releasing it. I've returned. Shion clenched his hand
into a tight fist. He was thumped on the back.
"Take a deep breath," Nezumi said. "Breathe out and
get rid of all your emotions. A split second of hesitation or
excitement can cost you your life. Keep your head."
"Got it. You too. Follow me, and don't fall behind."
Suddenly, he felt the urge to laugh. It tickled in his chest.
"What?" Nezumi drew his chin back. "What're you
grinning about?"
"No... just thinking about how great it feels to say
'follow me' to you. Before, I was always the one to be told
that."
"―You know, Shion, you're―" Nezumi closed his mouth
mid-sentence, and shook his head.
The door opened fully. The light hit them head-on.
"Let's go, Nezumi." Shion unclenched his fist, and
glided out into the white light.

He smiled? Nezumi shook his head, and chewed his lip.

He felt suffocated, though only a little. How can he smile
at a time like this? And from the bottom of his heart, like
he was really happy. It wasn't bravado. It wasn't fake. In a
moment they would be stepping into the Correctional
Facility, and yet, Shion had smiled. He had been able to
smile.
 Just thinking about how great it feels to say 'follow
me' to you.
What the hell? What are we, a couple of students
making idle chatter and laughing on the way home from
school? Why? Why is it that you seem not to feel nervous
at all? Don't you understand what kind of situation you're
in right now?
He could hurl as many insults as he liked. But, Nezumi
muttered under his breath, but it's still amazing. He
couldn't help it; his feeling of awe was stronger than his
desire to insult the boy.
I can't smile like that. Give an innocent and carefree
laugh―it's just not gonna happen with me. Right now
we're about to step into a danger zone that might as well
be a minefield. I can't spare the energy to laugh.
He wasn't afraid. He wasn't going to flinch. But he was
tense. This stance prepared him for battle. He needed this
shift in mind and body so that he could manoeuvre himself
out of the way of an attacking enemy; so that he could
turn around and sink his fangs into the enemy's throat.
Shion had none of that. He didn't even have the fighting
mentality.
Numerous times, Nezumi had felt frustrated at him.
Where did you leave your fangs and claws behind? he
would think. He had even slapped Shion's cheek out of
sheer frustration.
He had thought that Shion was frail. He was far
weaker, far more fragile than Nezumi. Like a
newly-hatched chick, he was defenseless and powerless...
he had not a single skill to survive in this harsh reality. But
that didn't mean that Nezumi scorned or looked down
upon Shion.
On the contrary, he had felt that he needed to protect
him. If he didn't protect him with all the strength he had,
Shion would not be able to survive. He would be crushed.
Nezumi had earnestly believed so once.
And he had utterly misunderstood. I made unfounded
assumptions, and that was my foolish mistake. He had
realized it long before.
Shion was not weak at all. That was why he had been
able to come this far. He had not been crushed; in fact, he
was far from it: he had survived stoutly. He had come
crawling up with his own strength. He had emerged from
this brutal reality, stood on this ground, and even smiled.
Smiled, huh. That's right. You'll do things your way
and I'll do it my way, and we'll overcome this.
He regulated his breathing.
It starts here, Shion.
He couldn't predict in the faintest what was going to
happen, what was waiting for them.
An abyss?
Or a miracle?
A return alive, or no return at all?
He couldn't predict what lay a pace away.
 What's going to happen...?
When we've run past the finish line, will you still be
laughing? Will you be smiling as you are, unchanged from
now?
"Let's go, Nezumi." Shion glided into the white light.
He had to follow, so as not to fall behind. Nezumi nodded,
and stepped out into the light after him.
Point X. It was marked as such on the floorplan. It was
the door at location po1-z22. It was the only point where
the underground blank was connected to ground-level.
When the door opened, it made a passage-way
between the underground realm and the Correctional
Facility. There was a difference in air pressure, perhaps,
for there was a slight air flow.
Shion ran to the right. The floorplan that Fura had
filled in for him rose in his mind as if he were actually
seeing it in front of him.
"Fifteen paces to the right. We're safe until there.
There are no sensors. Beyond that, we've got stairs."
"And there?"
"Laser beams: one on the second step, running 45
degrees; one on the stairwell, 15 centimetres above the
floor, running parallel; one on the eleventh step running
60 degrees. As long as we don't touch those, the
surveillance won't go off."
"Hm. Pretty lax."
 "Only up to here." This was the basement floor of the
Correctional Facility. Excluding Point X, there was no
contact to outside areas, so naturally, there were no
windows or doors. Facility workers, personnel, and visitors
who had the appropriate identification chip and didn't
need to worry about the sensors came down by the stairs
or elevator―the legitimate route. But other than that, the
only way to get here was through the underground realm.
Adding to that fact, none of the departments here
handled confidential material, and the risks of infiltration
were infinitely close to zero. It was understandable for
security to become lax.
No one had probably predicted that Point X, or
location po1-z22 would ever open.
"Nezumi."
"Hm?"
"How much time do you think we can buy?"
"One―no, at least two minutes."
Two minutes? Can we buy that much? The change in
Point X had probably already been registered by the
security system. Could they even buy two minutes until
the monitoring staff realized and took appropriate action?
"Inukashi's working his magic," Nezumi said. "It's
probably a bit of a hullabaloo up there."
"Hullabaloo?"
 "You'll see in time. The joyous festivities are only
beginning. Anyway, we've got two full minutes. It's ours to
use."
"Two minutes, huh."
"Feels like an eternity, doesn't it."
"Sure does," Shion said drily.
Second step, 45 degrees; stairwell, 15 centimetres
parallel; eleventh step, 60 degrees. They emerged at the
top of the stairs. It took a bit of time, since they couldn't
just dash up. Approximately 1 minute, 06 seconds left.
From this floor began the ground-level part of the
Correctional Facility. There was an entrance hall, where
the largest number of people came and went. Personnel
came through a different gate than that of prisoners, and
gathered on this floor. From here, they dispersed to their
respective workplaces. Everyone was cross-checked
minutely at the entrance, but once they were through, it
seemed like inspection on the rest of the floor wasn't as
thorough. The higher the floors, the more strict it
became.
The top floor was where they were headed.
It was the deepest and furthest part of the
Correctional Facility, encircled by many layers of security
networks. They were not headed for the imprisonment
facility, which protruded like a bump from the main tower.
It was the furthest part of the Correctional Facility.
That was where Safu was.
 Shion knew in his guts.
Safu was a certified elite. Such chosen ones were
furnished with the best educational environment from a
young age. Investing ample time, money, and labour into
developing elites was a fundamental political policy of No.
6.
Shion couldn't imagine No. 6 taking an elite that they
had raised so carefully to throw her into prison with the
rest of the inmates. If she had been arrested in connection
with him, then his mother Karan wouldn't have been safe,
either.
But it had been Safu who had been taken, and not
Karan.
Then it must mean that she was arrested not in
connection with him, but on the conditions that she
herself fulfilled. The fact that she was elite, perhaps, and
without parents, or perhaps because she was female―
"Sample Collection Status―I remember there being a
section like that in the Health and Hygiene Bureau's data,"
Fura had said. Sample. Mock-up. Specimen.
No. 6 was taking samples from within the city, and
apparently in secret. Citizens were being extracted,
unbeknownst, to become specimens. There was no way
this wasn't related to the rumour of agitation and
abnormalities trickling out from inside the city.
Shion knew this too, in his guts.
 If Safu was a sample who fulfilled their various
requirements, then she was valuable. They would
probably need a suitable facility in which to handle such a
valuable sample.
That was why Safu had to be on the topmost floor, the
Special section of the furthest part of the Facility. He
wasn't one-hundred percent sure, but it was very likely.
Shion felt a violent chill.
Not at No. 6, but at himself.
How would I treat a valuable sample? He felt a chill at
how he was turning this over in his mind coolly. He felt
goosebumps form at his own thoughts, which placed Safu
in that position.
I need to be calm and rational. I need to be in this
state of mind; it's what I need most, especially in danger.
Don't get distracted, don't get fooled, don't lose sight.
Nezumi had taught him.
Being calm meant repressing the furor of his feelings.
The restless tides of his human emotions lurked constantly
in his heart; and yet, he had to suppress them inches from
the surface. That was how it was. If he let himself lose
feeling and emotion completely, all that would remain
would be a heartless being.
But can I say that I'm not heartless? Maybe there's a
part of me that's gone completely cold, and I'm just
mistaking it for calmness.
 He gritted his teeth.
Don't get distracted, don't get fooled, don't lose sight.
And don't wander.
This isn't the time to be getting lost.
There were hurried footsteps. Two sets. One was
plodding and heavy, and the other was light.
"Why does it smell so horrible? I can't stand it." Two
men clad in white coats came running down the stairs.
Both of them had handkerchiefs held to their noses. One
man was heavyset and in his forties; the other man was
still young and scrawny.
Shion crouched in the shadow of the handrails. The
men stopped right before his eyes, and took deep breaths.
"I feel faint. What in heavens is this smell?" the
middle-aged man grumbled.
"Apparently the cleaning robots broke down. Instead
of cleaning, they're strewing trash everywhere, so I hear,"
answered the younger man, wiping his brow. The
middle-aged man was clearly not feeling well, for the
colour had receded from his face.
"It's impossible to get any work done in this. I feel like
my nose is going to fall off," complained the older man.
"Unbearable, isn't it? Do you suppose it's because
of―you know, that?"
"That?"
 "Today's the Holy Celebration. We're probably suffering
some kind of heavenly punishment because we're working
on a holiday."
"It can't be helped. When you work for a research
organization, you can't always get your vacations by the
calendar. But being rather unscientific, aren't you, saying
things like 'heavenly punishment'?"
"I guess." The man paused. "But these days, I find it
suddenly occurs to me that..."
"Occurs to you? What does?"
"...That maybe someday, the heavens are going to
punish us. That if we keep going like this, we'll eventually
pay the penalty."
"What? And who do you suppose would be able to
exact punishment on us? Are you sure the smell hasn't
short-circuited your brain?" the older man said
sardonically. "―You listen to me: even if you happen to
have unscientific thoughts, don't say them out loud. You'll
earn the brand of an ineligible citizen. And you can forget
about your reputation as a researcher."
The young man shrugged, and lapsed into silence.
Shion turned and signalled to Nezumi with his eyes.
Nezumi acted at almost the same time. Nezumi twisted
the arm of the man in front of him, and pressed a knife to
his throat. Shion also burst out, and twisted the young
man's arm behind him.
"Wh-What―"
 "Don't move. Don't make a sound. Make a noise, and I'll
kill you." Nezumi's voice was low, heavy, and cold. It was
the voice of a murderer. It agitated fear inside the person,
and sealed any attempt at a struggle.
Shion was yet again faced with the truth that Nezumi
was an incredibly talented actor.
"You too," he whispered in the young man's ear. It
didn't go as well as Nezumi. But Nezumi's voice and his
silver knife played its part well. The two of them showed
no signs of struggling. They stood stock-still, like wooden
poles. Only their bodies trembled slightly.
"The door on the right," Shion said. "Hold the name tag
on his chest up to the sensor."
Nezumi nodded, and positioned the man in front of
the door, with his arm still twisted behind his back. The
sensor embedded into the top part of the door activated,
and blinked on and off.
The door slid silently open.
"A change room," Nezumi said.
"Yeah."
"I see. A perfect hiding place for these gentlemen."
Even before finishing his sentence, Nezumi had spun
around nimbly and had ground his fist firmly into the man's
stomach. Shion pushed the young man's body forward. The
man tripped over his own feet. The blade of Nezumi's
hand swung down upon his neck. It all happened in the
blink of an eye.
 The two men crumpled to the floor without uttering a
single sound.
They stripped the men of their coats, and shoved
them inside the lockers. Like highway bandits, Shion
thought fleetingly. He didn't feel strange about it, nor did
he feel guilt. One more upper hand, one more step
forward. That was all he was setting out to do. He slid his
arms through the sleeves of the white coat.
"How do I look?" Nezumi twirled in his white lab coat.
"You look good."
"Thank you. They're a fine set of stage costumes. A
little on the big side, though. So? These name tags
function as ID chips, then?"
"Yeah," Shion answered. "The door opened, so I think
we can be sure about that." He figured even No. 6
wouldn't embed each and every single Facility employee
with a chip. Embedding them inside the body would make
them incredibly difficult to retrieve. If they were to go
through the trouble, they would chip people who didn't
need to get them retrieved: first, prisoners; then, those
with access to the most confidential information―those
who could access the top floor by their own will.
He had guessed that other personnel would use an
identification item which they could wear and take off
easily, and could distinguish at a glance.
His guess was right.
 With these chips, they would go as far as they could
go.
Shion and Nezumi made eye contact. No emotions
swam in those grey eyes. He felt somehow relieved. No
matter what situation he was in, he would have these
unwavering eyes by his side. They had been like a sturdy
supporting pillar for Shion. All this time, they had
supported him.
Shion closed the locker.
No, Shion. From here on out, you have to be the one
to blaze the trail. Instead of the stern, you have to be the
prow.
They exited out into the hallway. An odour permeated
the place, which smelled a lot like rotting garbage.
"Hey, what's going on? What's this smell?"
"The whole building is full of it."
"I feel faint. I think I'm going to throw up."
People burst into the hallways, or came clambering
down the stairs, holding their hands or handkerchiefs to
their mouths. Some were deathly pale. Others had a sheen
of sweat on their foreheads, and still others were close to
tears.
Shion furrowed his brow, not at the stench, but at the
commotion. It was indeed a bad odour, but was it
something to make such a fuss about?
 The smell that wafted over the marketplace in the
West Block was nothing like this. It was a more
concentrated, more vividly disgusting stench. And
everyone lived in it. They raged, harangued, drank,
sometimes laughed, and cried in it. They lived every day
there.
But this, this was merely―
"They haven't any immunity, after all," Nezumi
muttered, as if to sense what was in Shion's heart.
No immunity. Well, I guess that's true.
Disinfection, odour removal, humidity
control―artificially building a comfortable environment
naturally meant the removal of everything unpleasant. No.
6 had received its name as the Ideal City, the Holy City,
through purging and exterminating rubbish, refuse,
bacteria, viruses, smells, odours, and noise―all of it.
No. 6 had a standard frame, and did not tolerate
anything or anyone who crossed the boundaries of this
frame. It concerned not only smells, noise, and bacteria;
it purged humans as well. It ruthlessly cut them away. The
majority of prisoners in this Correctional Facility were not
criminals in the real sense; they were merely people who
had exceeded the permissible bounds of the Holy City.
They had not declared their loyalty to the city, or they
had raised an objection. They had not complied. They had
questioned its ways. There were probably a great number
of people who had been imprisoned on a charge of these
crimes. The rest were those who had committed crimes
due to their poverty, or out of want of food. And
underground, the residents of the West Block were
groaning in pain.
Expel all undesirables without an exception.
This was the world of No. 6.
The result of the policy had shown itself in this small
scene.
Any faint smell was enough for these sensitive people
to react and panic. It was a sign that the physical
tolerance levels of the citizens, like their city, were
becoming dangerously low.
How fragile they were.
Had Nezumi perceived this fragility? It was a slight,
almost unnoticeable crack. But even a crack small enough
to be overlooked could be a trigger for collapse.
This frailty, this defect in its resistance, could be the
wound that would seal No. 6's fate.
Had Nezumi seen through all of this, too?
Shion didn't know.
He realized he barely knew anything about Nezumi. He
thought he had begun to see into his past, into how he had
been raised, but―
He didn't know. He knew just as little as when they
had first met.
Nezumi was almost like a deep forest.
 No matter how far he waded in, he could never gaze
out over its entirety. Here, clumps of flowers bloomed;
here, a bowed branch bore fruits. Here, a spring gushed
forth, and he could hear the gentle sound of its flow. He
had definitely seen these various scenes, but they were
mere parts of the deep, vast forest. Perhaps he would
emerge from the dense trees to be faced with a sheer
cliff. Perhaps there lurked man-eating beasts. Perhaps a
scene totally unknown to him would stretch before his
eyes. He didn't know.
No matter how far he waded in, Nezumi never
revealed his entirety to him. The further he waded in, the
more unfathomable it got.
I've wandered and gotten lost in an endless forest. I'm
drifting, a tangle of throbbing pain and dreamy ecstasy.
There was a cotton handkerchief in Shion's coat
pocket. He used it to cover his nose and mouth. It wasn't
to shield against the smell; it was to hide his face. This
way, the risk of being spotted would lessen. Nezumi also
pressed a white handkerchief to his mouth.
They climbed the stairs. The odour gradually grew
stronger. Still, the security alarms didn't go off.
A chime sounded, and his feet froze on the spot. A
bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
"Commencing odour removal. Commencing air
filtering. Operational level 8.5. The air quality of the
building will return to normal in approximately two
minutes, sixteen seconds."
 The announcement was made by a mechanical voice
imitating a female contralto. A chubby man beside Shion
let out a great puff of air. Shion also breathed out quietly
into his handkerchief.
"Good heavens, we're saved. It's torture, this smell."
"I don't think I can stand this for two whole minutes."
Behind the man, an equally chubby woman had twisted
her face into a scowl. Her skin was flawless, and her red
pouting lips were strangely alluring. Shion and Nezumi
tried silently to slip by.
"Oh―hey, you there!" The man called at them. Shion's
heart skipped a beat.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
His pulse was racing painfully. Sweat erupted on his
face.
Nezumi twisted his neck around, his handkerchief still
clamped over his mouth.
"Yes?"
"Where are you going?"
"We're going... back to work."
"Third floor?"
"Yes―third floor." Nezumi coughed lightly.
"The stench is horrible up there," the man said. "You'd
be better off going down. I'd suggest you avoid the area
entirely for a while. I can't imagine you could get any work
done in that."
"―We can't really afford to leave. We're doing a rush
job right now..."
"Rush job? On the third floor?"
"Yes..."
"But the third floor is for resource compilation and
management systems. What section of the third floor are
you?"
"Hygiene Management," Shion answered. He traced the
floorplan in his head.
Third floor. He could guess judging by the layout of
electric circuitry that the General floors ended at the
third. Starting from the fourth Special floor, the circuitry
spread into a fearfully complicated web. The fourth floor
was connected to the Surveillance Wing of the prisoners.
Mobile barriers were placed at equal intervals in the
hallways, and the number of sensors were over three
times that of the General floors.
The majority of Facility personnel could only access as
far as the third floor. They had no need to go further.
What sections were laid out on that third floor? The
floorplan rose vividly in his mind. If he remembered
correctly, the Hygiene Management department was
nestled in a far corner of the third floor.
"The source of this smell still hasn't been identified,"
Shion said hesitantly. "We Hygiene Management employees
are in a bit of a panic right now. We're not getting any
data of foreign objects coming in from outside, so there's
a possibility that something has gone wrong inside the
building..."
"Oh, really? According to Management Systems, there
was a maintenance problem with the cleaning robots, and
they supposedly broke down and started strewing trash
everywhere. That's not it?"
"Ah, well, that's..." He was at a loss for words. Nezumi
answered in a low, hoarse voice.
"The smell seems too strong for just that. We're doing
an emergency investigation into whether there was
something mixed in with the garbage. We've had no
previous cases, after all... we're fumbling, truth be told."
"Hm. I see. Were there always young'uns like you in
that section, though?"
"We're not―that young," Shion stammered.
The man craned his neck to inspect him. "What
happened to your hair? It's gone all white."
Shion couldn't find any words to say. He had forgotten
about his hair―white, to the point of transparent. No
doubt it was extremely noticeable. If he said he was born
with it, people would probably be suspicious about never
having seen him before.
What to do?
"I, well... I tried dyeing it..."
 "Oh, how pretty," the woman smiled. "It's very pretty.
So nice and shiny. What did you use to get it to look like
that? Tell me all about it."
"Sara, stop flirting with him."
"Excuse me? Flirting? How rude. I don't know why you
can't be a little more polite. Ugh, this smell. I'm sick of it,
and I'm sick of you, too." The woman stalked off down the
stairs.
"Wait―hey, Sara! What was that supposed to mean?
Hey! Wait up, Sara. Wait!" The man wiped the sweat off
his brow as he followed after the woman.
"A romantic spat if I ever saw one. That guy
supposedly tries to pick up ladies in broad daylight. At
work, no less." Nezumi shrugged. "Saved our asses,
though."
If the man had questioned them any further, they
would have been in trouble. Shion felt a coldness around
his armpits.
"You've gotten pretty good at lying. But not quite
polished enough on the finish."
"Not as nearly as good as you. Looks like I'll need a lot
more training."
"Good call."
The third floor was white-walled and white-floored,
and though it was neat, it was eerily blank.
"So this Management Systems room?" Nezumi said.
 "Left-hand side. It's a glass-panelled room. Nezumi,
surveillance camera right above you. Don't look up. Be
careful. There's also a 360-degree camera on the ceiling to
your top-right after you enter the room."
"Roger that."
The odour removal and air-conditioning mechanics
were well underway, evidently, for the smell had dispersed
considerably, and did not bother them much. The
confusion was beginning to settle.
The glass doors slid automatically open, and a thin
man with a jutting chin came out carrying a vacuum. He
looked ill; there was a dead look in his eyes, and he was
horribly pale.
"I've done it... I've actually done it," they heard the
man mutter as he passed them by. "I've done it... but...
serves them right... serves them right..."
"Get out of here quickly," Nezumi whispered to the
man's back. The man stopped in his tracks, and glanced
furtively at Nezumi.
"Did you say something?"
"I told you to get out of here. Don't dally."
"You―"
"You've pulled it off admirably. A job well done." His
tone was that of a king congratulating a subject. The man
blinked. His Adam's apple slowly bobbed as he swallowed.
"Who... are you?"
 "I'm grateful. Now make a good getaway." Nezumi
flashed the man a seductive smile, and slowly set foot
inside the Management Systems room. He didn't look
anything like he was in a rush. He had the footsteps of an
honest employee returning to his work.
The security alarm did not go off.
We're still good. Shion clenched his hand into a fist.
His palms were sweaty. Things are going better than I
thought. If they continue like this, maybe we'd be able to
pull it off.
No, don't let your guard down. Even a slight moment
of inattention could cost us our lives.
Following in Nezumi's footsteps, Shion also entered the
room neither hastily or cautiously, maintaining a perfectly
ordinary step and speed.
It was spacious inside, and the room was sectioned off
with clear walls of reinforced plastic. The booth closest to
where Shion and Nezumi had entered was empty. There
was no one there. The booth next to that also showed no
signs of anyone. They had probably fled, unable to bear
the smell. But the smell had now been mostly removed;
people would be returning soon.
"This must be the management division for ventilation.
And―"
"The operating button for opening and closing Point X
should be here, too." Nezumi's gaze focused on the
right-hand edge of the control panel. A small, round
button. It was a vivid, almost cheap-looking shade of
green. It looked almost out of place amongst the other
switches and touch panels. Shion stood in front of the
control panel.
"Oh, yeah," Shion said. "The surveillance and
management of all entrances and openings take place
beyond this wall, but the door to Point X is the only thing
that doesn't."
"Is that strange?"
"No. It's just as you said: that door is impenetrable. It
will never open. No. 6 never considered the chance of
someone coming in through that door. Of course, they
never considered opening it from their side, either. So this
button for them was actually meaningless. That was why it
didn't matter where they put it. There was no need to
keep watch on it, anyway."
As he spoke, Shion tapped a large screen in the centre
of the control panel. Of course, he was concerned about
his fingerprints being lifted, but the screen wouldn't
function if he didn't touch it directly. Security measures
would take effect, and it would lock itself.
"That's right," Nezumi answered. "It's indulgence.
Indulgence that comes from complacence. No. 6 thinks
nothing in the world can threaten them. Makes you laugh,
doesn't it?"
Point X was created when Rou was placed in the
underground settlement, though at the time, it had
probably been mere caverns. The caverns themselves
were to be his prison. Then, the Correctional Facility
gradually grew closer to its current form: a new, even
more secure imprisonment facility than the caves. The
underground caverns, Rou, and the other prisoners were
forgotten. Either that, or they were written off as people
who had never existed.
Only the door remained.
The screen changed into a layout of the Correctional
Facility's ventilation system.
"Nezumi, look here." There were stairs leading from
the fourth to the fifth floor, and to the top floor as well.
Each step was 120 millimetres deep, and 240
millimetres high. It was quite a steep slope. The stairs
were also barely wide enough for one adult to climb. It
was more like a ladder than a set of stairs.
Nezumi peered in. "What's this?"
"Stairs for construction and maintenance. Everything is
usually computer-regulated, but once in while they would
probably need some manual labour. The stairs were
probably made with that in mind. They probably haven't
been used much, though."
A soft exhale escaped Nezumi's lips.
"I didn't know there was something like this here. Did
you know about these stairs all along?"
 "No, I only guessed," Shion said. "I noticed it when I
first looked at the floorplan. It was an unusual blank
space."
"I didn't notice."
"It's in the wall. There was a narrow space between
the outer and inner walls. This particular part was wider
than the rest."
"So you saw something that I overlooked."
"That's right."
Tsk. The sound of a frustrated click of the tongue.
"And is that spot gonna welcome us in like an
amusement park? There aren't any anti-trespassing
devices?"
"I don't know. This screen only shows
ventilation-related systems. I can't tell about anything
else."
"You said it was a blank. So there's nothing written in
there."
"No."
"Then how about a door? If there are stairs, there has
to be a door that leads to them."
"I don't know about that, either. There's nothing
written here that might pertain to that."
"Then we don't have a next move."
 They did not have a next move. But they would have
to move anyway. If they couldn't use the central stairs or
the elevator, this was the only route that would take them
to the top floor.
Shion had stared at the floorplan long enough until he
felt his head throb, memorizing the interior structure.
This was the conclusion that he had drawn as a result.
Their chips would not take them any higher. They
would have to set foot on these stairs, using any method
they could. If only they could bound up the steps in one
dash. The mother computer was on the top floor. They had
to get there. They had to reach it, no matter what.
This was the only way.
In a way, the Correctional Facility was like a prototype
of No. 6. All information, activities, functions, and
monitoring networks led back to the mother computer.
This meant that all the power was in the hands of the
single person who could control the Mother freely.
A perfect hierarchy, in which the king was the
absolute summit―that was what they were trying to
create. It was an incredibly vast, yet foolish ambition.
Humans could control machines. They could develop
and refine devices, and use them in any way they liked.
But it was impossible for humans to dominate other
humans. Even empires which had proudly stood for a
thousand years, crumbled after that millennium. Humans
could not dominate other humans. The system would
always break down.
 Shion had learned this outside No. 6. The ones
inside―those reigning over No. 6―had evidently not. That
was why they could continue to believe in this illusion that
they would conquer all.
They were foolish. But foolishness created a
vulnerable opening. If they could make contact with the
mother computer, they would be able to find out Safu's
location, and they would be able to halt the Correctional
Facility's functions, if even momentarily.
With a centralized system like this one, where
everything concentrated into this one single point, then
all they had to do was attack that one spot.
No. 6's fragility had also revealed itself here.
Shion's fingers flitted about. The screens changed one
after another.
The barriers on the fourth floor. They had to overcome
those somehow. They had to break through the open space
before the walls closed in on them and blocked their route
off.
And to do that―
The inside of his head settled into a cold stillness.
Only his fingers kept moving, and finished one task, then
another.
"Hey, there's something wrong here," yelled a man in
the next booth. Several workers had already returned.
"The activity lamp for Point X is on."
 "Point X?"
"On location po1-z22. The door's been opened and
closed. It's recorded here."
A tall, young man tilted his head in perplexity. "Po1...
that's underground. Did we ever have a door there? Are
you sure it's not a display error on the part of the
computer? Maybe the smell was so bad, even the
computer couldn't handle it. Haha."
"This isn't a joking matter," the other snapped. The
man closed his mouth.
"Two minutes and forty seconds ago. That was just
now. The door on Point X opened right in the middle of
that commotion."
"Is there something wrong with it opening? Doors are
supposed to open, aren't they?"
"It's not general entrance door. It's not an emergency
exit, either. The staff don't use this door."
"Oh. Then, where's the door supposed to lead?"
"I don't know. I've never heard of it. But this means
that a door that was never supposed to open has opened.
This―"
Evidently the sound-proof setting was off, for the boys
could hear the muffled voices of the two men conversing.
"Our time's up." Nezumi undid the buttons of his lab
coat. Shion stood up as well.
 Two minutes, forty seconds. It was much longer than
they had anticipated. It looked like Fortune had not
abandoned them just yet.
"Oh―hey! You there." A grossly overweight mass of a
man was standing in front of them, blocking their way.
"What are you doing there? Who are you?"
Nezumi flung his coat at the man, which landed on the
man's head and draped over him. The man flailed his arms
and staggered. Nezumi swept his feet out from under him.
The man fell sideways with a resounding crash, and gave a
muffled groan.
"Excuse me." Nezumi stepped over the man, and
exited into the hallway. Shion followed suit and hopped
over the man's body.
"What was that?"
"Somebody―an intruder! Somebody help!"
"What? Has the emergency bell gone off?"
An agitated buzz rose from behind them.
"Nezumi, run up the stairs."
"Gotcha."
If the sensors caught any intruders, the security
shutters would fall automatically. Could they reach the
fourth floor before all the shutters went down?
The lighting on the stairs turned red. The shutters of
special alloy silently began to close.
 They were fast.
"Shion, go in head-first."
Nezumi and Shion dived into the narrow space.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 2
If one's human soul

If one's human soul should completely disappear,

one would probably be more likely to find
happiness. But even so, the human inside oneself
feels horror towards it like nothing else. O how so
completely terrifying, grievous, and painful he
thinks it! For one to lose his memories as a
human.
-Nakajima Atsushi, Sangetsuki [1]

She had awakened.

Safu had awakened, and understood everything.
She knew now what had happened to her.
What have you done... what have you done... what
have you done?
"Goodness, Safu. What's wrong? Look at the fluctuation
in your emotions. How long do you plan on keeping up this
agitation for? What a troublesome child. Your beauty is
going to waste." He chuckled. "Ah, no, that was just a
joke. A flat joke. Don't mind me. You are still beautiful,
very beautiful. A huge success. Things are going exactly as
planned so far. And of course, there will be no mistakes in
the future, either." He chuckled again.
The man continued to laugh from his spot beside Safu.
Devil.
So you were the Devil.
Why―why―why have you done this to me?
"You are not only beautiful. You are also resilient. You
are my ideal, Safu, let me confess that. I cannot lie to
you, after all. I... at first only collected you to use you as
a specimen. I tried to treat you as I would any other
sample. Oh, I hope you will forgive me. I don't want you to
reproach me like that. I didn't know that you would be so
beautiful and strong. Safu, you captivated me. I could
repeat myself a million times. You are my ideal―you are
what I've been looking for. That is why I will make you
queen. No, I will make you into someone close to a
goddess. A perfect existence. You and I, we will rule the
world together. How does it sound? Exciting, isn't it?"
Devil.
You are the Devil.
Don't come near me. Don't come near me.
Safu's voice did not reach the man.
The man continued to talk fervently as if he were
possessed. Colour tinged his cheeks, and he paced in
circles, back bent slightly forward.
 He was like a fish in an aquarium. He went round and
round, round and round, swimming in an enclosed space.
Round and round. Round and round.
The man's feet trod silently on the floor as he
continued talking. Perhaps he was speaking more to
himself than Safu.
"I finally have you in my hands. The ideal materials.
Oh, Safu, I'm no believer in fatalism. I don't believe in
forces beyond the bounds of human power, or the heavens
being in control of our lives. I have always laughed in
scorn at it, calling it absurd. But―please don't laugh, Safu.
After meeting you, I, well... I feel like I could believe a
little bit in this so-called fate. Perhaps it is true. Perhaps
there is a God, and He is trying to bestow me with an
absolute power. If not, what could explain the fact that I
met you like this? That is why I will make you a goddess. I
have the power to do it. Oh, yes. Yesterday, I told you that
you wouldn't need a name. Right, of course, of course. You
should throw away your name from the past. I shall give
you a name suitable for a goddess."
The man's feet and tongue showed no signs of
stopping.
He kept walking. He kept talking.
"Yes, how about..." The man's feet stopped abruptly. A
slow smile spread over his face. "How about... Elyurias?"
Elyurias?
 The man resumed pacing. The blissful smile still hung
over his face. "A splendid name, isn't it? Indeed, a name fit
for a queen. Perhaps it is all the more suitable for
someone like you."
This man...
Safu's gaze locked onto him. For the first time, she got
a good look.
His thin face looked gentle at first glance. His age―it
was hard to tell. Depending on how the light hit him, he
either looked very young, or considerably aged. The man
had completely cut himself off from the external world
and was wallowing in his inner realm, staring intently into
the air and soliloquizing his feelings.
Self-intoxication.
This man was completely absorbed in himself. He
believed that his abilities were equal to that of God. He
believed he was entrusted with everything, that he would
be forgiven for anything. That... that was why he could do
this.
"Just a little bit more. Just a little more, and my
project will be complete. You were the last piece. Thanks
to you, I have all the parts I need. They're complete, that's
no mistake. I just need time. I just need a little more
time. How do you feel? I want you to be comfortable, and
for that, I would do anything. You are one of the most
important things in my life right now, after all."
Set me...
 "What? Safu, did you say something?"
Set me free. Change me back to who I was. Let me see
him.
Her emotions reared angrily. A wind roared in her
heart, howling loudly. She wanted to scream from the
bottom of her lungs. She wanted to cry.
I want to see you.
"Oh, what's the matter? Your numbers are going up. I
guess you're having trouble adjusting to your new
environment. Hmm, I thought the transition would be
smoother. Oh, no, I don't mean to blame you for it. I
wouldn't blame you for anything. You are my treasure. Will
you sleep a little more? That should make things better.
Hm? ―It looks like Mother agrees with my judgment. She
says she will prescribe you some stabilizers. Oh, yes. I
have to tell you about Mother. You and Mother are directly
connected, you know. Mother will always monitor you to
adjust your conditions for utmost comfort, so that you will
have the best environment possible. So that's why, look,
now she's saying that you need rest―"
A bell sounded shrilly. The tapered ends of the man's
eyebrows shot up.
"What is it? An urgent call now? How uncouth― yes, it's
me. What's the matter? Today is the Holy Celebration, are
you not busy with your own―what? What's that? What do
you mean? In the city? This is happening in the city... no,
that can't be... right, send the video over to me. The
samples, too. Everything you've collected... yes, I'm about
to right now... what? Thirty bodies already? In the space of
one day... so that's what's happened... I understand. That's
enough. I'll go over there myself... yes, immediately.
Immediately."
All the blood had receded from the man's profile. His
lips were bloodless, white, and parched. They trembled
uncontrollably.
"It's a mistake. It must be a mistake. That... that
couldn't have happened. It just isn't possible," the man
practically spat, as he exited the room. He was agitated to
the point of it being unnatural. All the ease and eloquence
he had a minute ago were gone without a trace.
This is happening in the city, the man had said. Had
something happened inside No. 6? Something that
exceeded that man's predictions...?
No. 6, where I was born and raised. But there was
always unrest squirming below the surface. It was such a
comfortable and beautiful place, and yet it was always
precarious... the lingering feeling that something was
about to happen... at least, I thought so...
Safu could feel her rage gradually begin to quiet.
She was sleepy. So sleepy, she could melt. Had she
been dosed with a sleeping drug? She was connected to
the Mother―what did that mean? The Mother... oh, I'm so
sleepy.
 Her consciousness blurred. It became hard to think.
And in these moments, there was always a figure which
rose in her mind.
Shion.
She tried calling his name. Shion smiled, and gave a
slight nod. It wasn't an illusion. He was so vivid, so
concrete, as if he were standing right in front of her.
Hey, Shion. When was it again? I remember the sun
was setting. The wind was a little nippy, right? It had
snowed for the first time the day before, and the path
was wet. We were walking side-by-side. Do you
remember? You haven't forgotten, have you?
And I called your name, didn't I?
Shion.

She called his name again. And Shion, again, smiled at

her.
"What's wrong, Safu?"
"No... I just―"
"Just?"
"I just wanted to call your name. I was giving it some
hard thought, and I actually realized that 'Shion' is a nice
name. It's a flower."
"You had to give it a hard thought to notice it was
nice?"
 She had giggled. "So, what kind of flower is a 'shion'?"
"Uh... a perennial flower that's part of the Asteraceae
family, if I remember correctly. The stem grows up to 1.5
metres high, and it blooms with light purple flower
heads..."
"Shion, I don't want to hear an explanation about the
flower. I can get that kind of information easily."
"Then what do you want to know?"
"Something that I can't get easily."
"Can't get easily... hmm, that's almost like a riddle. If
you don't want to hear about the aster flower, then...
nope, I have no idea. What do you want to know, Safu?"
I want to know about you, Shion.
I wanted to know you. Who named you that? Do you
like it? When was it that I first called you by your name?
And when was the first time you called me....?
Shion, I still don't know anything about you.
I know your habits, the food you like, how you talk,
your gentleness and strength... yes, I do know. I know it
very, very well. But, Shion―
Who were you chasing? Who did you long to be beside?
Who were you yearning for? Who stands at the other end
of your outstretched fingers? Couldn't it have been me?
Did it have to be that person? I don't know anything. So
tell me. I wanted you to tell me, Shion.
 Shion.

Safu.
She heard a voice. Sparks burst in the haze of her
consciousness. Scarlet flowers opened their petals. A wind
scattered the fog that hung over her eyes, and in the same
way that the scenery would unfold before her, Safu's
consciousness came back to her. The voice had called it
back.
Safu.
Who is it? Who called me?
It wasn't Shion's voice. Nor was it her deceased
grandmother, or her parents. It was a voice she had never
heard before―no, sound? Melody? A breeze in the
canopies, the gentle splash of water, the pounding of rain
on the ground―it sounded similar. But it was different. It
was a sound she was hearing for the first time.
Is it a song―? A beautiful, song-like...
Safu.
Who is it? Who's calling me?
It's me, Safu.
Who? Who are you?
I am Elyurias.
Elyurias...
***

"Shionn, stop squirming!" Inukashi clicked his tongue as

he lowered the baby into a large pot full of warm water.
The baby grinned. He flapped his arms and legs, squealing
with glee. Warm water splashed everywhere, wetting the
hem of Inukashi's shirt.
"Stop horsing around. Geez, you're really round, aren't
ya?"
The baby's hands and feet, his belly, his whole body
was plump and soft. Every finger, every hair was brimming
with the energy of life.
Strange guy. He's different from any baby I know. Way
different. So different, sometimes he just makes me stop
and stare.
The kind of babies Inukashi knew always had Death
curled up and ready to spring at their feet. Their life was
wrenched from them before they even had a way of
protecting themselves. Those were the kind of babies he
knew. Malnutrition, plague, the frigid air; sleeping
quarters not much better than a garbage dump. What was
the fraction of babies in the West Block who lived to turn
five? Fifty percent? No, maybe even thirty. Some kids were
killed by their parents so that they would be one less
mouth to feed. Inukashi knew swarms of them whose only
purpose in life seemed to be to come into this world, only
to die. For a short time, Inukashi had done infant burials
as a job. But his "burials" literally only consisted of him
digging a hole and burying the baby. It was no different
than digging a grave for a dog. He thought babies who
were sent off with the mourning of a father and the grief
of a mother were still lucky. Oftentimes, Inukashi was the
only one to see the baby off. No one ever left prayers,
much less a single flower for the simple grave, a raised
mound of dirt with a rock placed on top. In time, people
forgot that it was a grave in the first place.
Babies usually died with their mouths slightly open.
Sometimes, through their eyelids which had not quite
closed, he could see a set of startlingly clear eyes staring
vacantly back at him.
Of course. They couldn't even stand on their own feet.
They'd have no way of becoming tainted. Of course they'd
still be innocent.
His heart had never ached as he piled dirt onto the
small corpses. He had never experienced sorrow, nor spilt
any tears.
Good for you to have died early. You're a lucky one.
You didn't have to suffer any more than this. These were
the only words he's speak to them.
Hey, little guy, how many months did you get to live
for? Two? Three? You've lasted half a year? That should be
enough, then. Don't even think about being reincarnated.
You'll just end up with the same fate anyway. If you still
want to that badly, then come back as a weed that grows
on the edges of the path, or as a puppy. You'll be a
hundred times happier. You listen, alright? Never, ever be
born again as a human. That was another thing he'd say to
them.
It was Inukashi's own way of sending the dead off.
Nezumi would sing. He would probably sing a
sending-off song, for the soul that had expired while it
was still innocent―though Inukashi didn't know if such a
song existed, he knew Nezumi would sing it. But you know
what, Nezumi? Dead people don't need songs. Dying
people might, but not the dead.
The dead return to the land, and turn back into soil.
Babies do, and so will you and I.
Inukashi shook his head vigorously when he realized he
had been absent-mindedly thinking about Nezumi. He
crossed his left middle and index fingers. It was his charm
to ward off demons.
For Inukashi, Nezumi was something close to a demon.
Even more detestable than Death.
You could avoid Death to a certain extent, as long as
you didn't let your guard down. You could ward it off, you
could trick it. But what about him? He thinks nothing of
driving people until their backs are against the wall. He
gets you involved in danger. He doesn't give a damn about
your convenience or your own matters. He'll make use of
dog shit if it serves him a purpose. He's cunning,
frightfully thorough, and can wrap you around his finger
as easy as anything. Ugh, enough, enough. If Nezumi
didn't have his power as a singer, I would never have
associated with him. Never. Oh―damnit, I'm thinking
about him again. I shouldn't even devote a second to
thinking about that guy, or else I'll be sucked in by his
evil. I should know this―what's wrong with my head?
"Come on, Shionn. You do the charm, too. Then the
demon won't come getcha. You're beyond all hope if you
end up like your Papa, completely under his spell. See,
stick your fingers together like this."
"Bah-booohh, boo-boo!" Shion raised a joyful cry from
his bath. He was strange―a very strange baby, indeed. Not
even a shadow of Death crept up on him.
In their room in the ruins of the hotel, the walls were
crumbling, the windowpanes were shattered, and a cold
draft always blew in. It was a place only marginally better
than outside. Rikiga was able to provide them somewhat
with milk, but it was nearly not enough. Inukashi made up
for what he didn't have with dog's milk and vegetable
broth.
The baby was probably more fortunate than most in
the West Block, but it didn't change the fact that he was
still severely deprived.
But Shionn was always in high spirits, swinging his
hands and feet, laughing, and babbling to Inukashi. His
skin had a healthy glow, and he was plump, round, and full
of energy. Inukashi could even swear that the baby had
grown in these past two, three days.
Those eyes shined with life, his skin was smooth, and
his voice was strong. It was almost like the infant was
encased in a transparent shield that protected him from
the many dangers and toxins of this world.
A strange baby.
"Hey, Inukashi," a gravelly voice called out to him. A
deep, muddy-sounding voice.
Geez. I'm not asking you to change your face, but can
you at least get some class into your voice?
"What the hell are you doing? Stop it!" There was
scramble of footsteps, and Shionn was snatched from
Inukashi's arms. The pot wobbled, and warm water spilled
out.
"What's your problem?" Inukashi whined.
"You must be kidding me. Stop this!" Rikiga hugged the
naked baby to his body, retreating slowly. "Inukashi―this is
going too far. This isn't what humans do."
"Huh?"
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Sure, you might be
more dog than human. But that doesn't mean you don't
have a shred of reason in you."
"Reason? That crap isn't gonna do any good for me, will
it now? But I guess I might have a little more of that than
you, old man."
Rikiga screwed his drunken flushed face into a scowl,
and retreated another step.
What the hell is this old man doing?
 "I thought you'd have more decency for a dog boy.
Inukashi, I don't know how hungry you are to want to do
this, but eating a baby? You must be a monster. Have you
thrown away your human heart, too?"
"Huh? The hell are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb with me. You―you were trying to boil
Shionn and eat him."
Inukashi fixed Rikiga with a long stare. He didn't even
blink. He could feel laughter welling up and prodding
inside his chest.
"What's so funny? You inhuman bastard."
After Inukashi had bent over double and laughed for a
good while, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I laughed so much, I'm drooling. Ah, old man, you
missed out. If you'd come even thirty minutes later, I
would've treated you with some good soup taken from
baby broth. As much as you could eat."
"L-Like I would ever eat something like that! I'd rather
starve to death. Besides, what were you―"
"A bath."
"Huh?"
"I was giving Shionn a bath."
"In a pot?"
"Yeah. This is the pot I use to make food for my dogs.
It's the best size for giving a baby a bath. Of course, if you
insist on delivering me a high-quality baby bathtub, old
man, I'd be delighted to use that instead."
"Uh... I, well..."
Inukashi shrugged exaggeratedly.
"But I gotta say, I'm flabbergasted to find out you care
so much about Shionn, old man. I thought you were only
nice to your money, your booze, and young women. What
a surprise."
"Of course I care," Rikiga said indignantly. "I'm not like
you. I still have a decent human soul. Don't lump me in
with you people."
"You people? Am I part of that group, too?"
"You and Eve. Who else?"
Inukashi shrugged again. "Fine. If you're so bent on it,
then take him."
"Huh?"
"Tuck that baby into your coat and take him home. I
can just imagine the fine young man he'd grow up to be,
raised by such a gentle old man like you. Just like
airheaded Shion, who you love so much."
Rikiga shook his head hastily.
"No can do. I can't do it. Inukashi, I'm sorry. You're not
an inhumane bastard. I'm sorry for lumping you in with
Eve, that wiley fox. I apologize. I'm sorry. There must've
been something wrong with me. Hahaha―I see, yes, a
bath. Babies love baths, right? Isn't that nice, Shionn,
aren't you glad to have been picked up by such a nice
person? You lucky guy."
Rikiga rubbed his cheek against Shionn's. Shionn burst
into tears. He opened his mouth wide, and his stretched
arms and legs went rigid. An old dog who had been
sleeping underneath the table raised its head and
narrowed its eyes suspiciously.
"Oh―hey, come on, don't cry. Stop flailing around! He'll
drop you."
The baby didn't stop crying. He wailed, stretching his
hands towards Inukashi. Inukashi almost reflexively
snatched the baby back into his own arms. He wrapped
both arms firmly around the small body. The crying
stopped instantly.
"Geez, he'll catch a cold like this. If he gets sick, it's
your fault, old man. You'll be paying for his medicine bills.
Must've been cold, huh, Shionn? I'll get you inside the bath
again. Go on, warm up."
A plump arm reached out, and its fingers touched
Inukashi's cheek.
"Mama."
Tears had left their streaked marks on his smooth
cheeks.
"Mama."
Inukashi felt like his heart was being wrung.
Something twisted deep inside his body. He almost
stopped breathing at this huge, scalding, twisting emotion
that had reared inside him.
"Mama."
Yeah, I know, Shionn. It was a joke. A lame, stupid
joke. Forgive me. It's alright, I'm here. I won't give you
away to a drunkard like him... no, I won't give you away
to anyone. I promise. I swear.
Rikiga peered into the bundle in Inukashi's arms, and
exhaled a breath that reeked of alcohol.
"Mama," he echoed.
"What? You miss your Mama, old man?"
"My mother went six feet under a long time ago. She
crawled into that grave when I was ten, and hasn't tried to
crawl back out since."
"She must be really comfortable in there," quipped
Inukashi. "And she probably wouldn't want to see how
much her son has gone downhill anyway. Maybe she's
choosing not to come out."
"Who are you calling downhill? But anyway, about
Shionn..."
"What about Shionn?"
"He called you Mama."
"So he did."
"Why 'Mama', huh?"
"Dunno."
 "Mama."
"See, there it is again."
Inukashi lowered Shionn back into the bathwater, and
warmed him. Shionn found it very comfortable,
apparently, for he gave a relaxed smile. Its radiance
touched upon everything: beautiful things, refreshing
things, exciting things.
I didn't know babies were such precious beings.
"Why is it 'Mama', Inukashi?" Rikiga insisted.
"Everything is 'Mama' to babies, old man. Hard to
believe, but even you were crying for you mama some
decades ago. Did you stop crying once someone flashed
you a gold coin back then too, huh?"
"You're one to talk," Rikiga shot back. "You're just as
attached to money as I am. Look at the pot calling the
kettle black."
"Hah, shut up."
They're such precious beings. I never knew.
All the babies Inukashi had buried without feeling―in
the frozen ground; in the sun-beaten and parched soil; in
the muddied earth of the rainy season―now, for the first
time, Inukashi cast his thoughts to each and every one.
Maybe Shionn wasn't the only one. Was that baby a
precious existence? Or that baby, or that other baby, too?
If they were, then... they shouldn't have died like that. It
doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense that they have
to die so skinny, with their skin so wrinkly you'd think it
was some old woman. To draw their last breath with such
innocent eyes, without any hatred for anyone, without
even knowing how to hate. Like the one I buried at the
root of a honeysuckle bush,or the one I dug a grave for in
red soil, or the one I wrapped in rag before burying, or
that one, or that one, or that one―they all should have
been cherished more;. They shouldn't have been forced to
die that way.
Shionn, don't you die. Live on. Live, and grow big.
Learn to hate, learn to cherish.
"Muh-muhhh."
Inukashi scooped the baby up, and briskly put his
clothes back on him. A black female dog got up as if it had
been waiting its turn. The mat it had been sprawled on
had cotton stuffing poking out of its ripped seams.
Inukashi had fished it out of the rubble in the
marketplace. It was faded, worn thin in many places, and
more like a rag than anything else. But upon closer
examination, one could see an adorable pattern of baby
chicks. Maybe a baby much like Shionn had been using it
before. On the day of the Hunt, maybe he had been put to
sleep on this very mat, and been immersed in a dream.
"He's all yours," Inukashi said to the dog. After Shionn
had been laid down beside the dog, he immediately
latched onto the dog's teat. He suckled eagerly, making
gurgling sounds in his throat.
"Rather furry nurse he's got."
 "We've got as many furry girls as you'd want," Inukashi
said. "Black fur, red fur, white fur, spotted fur. Care for a
night with a lady of your choice?"
Rikiga ignored Inukashi's sarcasm, and heaved a sigh.
"A human baby being raised on dog's milk... that's
quite something. But is that alright? God forbid he should
start barking next."
"He just said 'Mama', didn't he?"
Rikiga looked down at Shionn, and heaved another
sigh.
"Old man."
"What?"
"Have you made the preparations?"
Rikiga's face slowly turned towards Inukashi. "Yeah."
He lifted his arm languidly, and pointed at the black bag
on the table.
"Good. Let's go, then." Inukashi lifted the bag. It
weighed down heavily in his hands. Rikiga knitted his brow
and made a reluctant face.
"Inukashi... why don't we call it quits?"
"Quit?"
"Let's just forget about the whole thing."
"Forget about it, and then what?"
 "We crawl back into our holes and keep quiet. Don't
you think it'd be... better that way?"
"Of course." It would be better, old man. I feel that
way hundred times stronger than you. I want to forget all
about it, and crawl back into my den.
It would be cold tonight, but not enough to freeze. If
Inukashi had his dogs with him, he'd be able to ward off
the cold. Just minutes ago, he'd filled his stomach with
stale biscuits and a soup of vegetable rinds. It was good.
That means right now, I'm more or less fulfilled. If I could
just lie down with my dogs and fall into a deep, deep
sleep...
That'd be nice.
"Right?" Rikiga continued. "Why don't we do that? You
have Shionn. You have to protect him. If something
happens to you, who's going to take care of him? Think
about it."
"The dogs are here. The dogs will raise him even
without me. Just like my mum did."
"Yeah, but... Inukashi, let me be straight with you. I
value my life as much as you do. I don't want to do
anything dangerous. So," he said hesitantly, "let's back out
of this. Forget it ever happened, hm?"
"And what happens to Nezumi and Shion? You gonna
abandon them?"
"Those two are already dead. There's no way they'd be
alive. They couldn't have lived if they've been rounded up
by the Hunt, anyway. You know this as well as I do. That's
why it's useless. We're about to put our lives on the line
for something completely useless. Come on, let's just stop
this. It's for the best."
"Old man."
Rikiga drew his chin when he saw Inukashi's gaze.
"―What?"
"That's enough yammering. It's almost time. Let's go."
"Inukashi!"
"I'm going. If you wanna quit, old man, you go do that.
I don't care. The bag comes with me, though."
"Inukashi, why? Why are you so bent on fulfilling your
duty to them? You always acted alone. So have I. I could
understand for Shion, but to go this far for someone like
Eve..."
"He's one of us."
"Huh?"
"They're part of our group. I can't abandon them."
Rikiga's dark eyes darted about. His mouth twisted
into a scowl, like someone had force-fed him some bitter
herb. He scratched furiously at the rash on his chin.
"I can't even bring myself to laugh at your joke," Rikiga
said scathingly. "You've got no taste. Just listening to you
makes me nauseous."
 "Well, gee, I mean, your stomach is probably already a
mess from your binge-drinking. I'd advise you to give up
the booze for you own sake, though it's probably too late
for you. Heheh, but I sounded pretty cool back there,
didn't I? You'd agree I was pretty suave, right?"
"Idiot. I can't believe you could rattle off those
embarrassing lines as if you actually meant it. Maybe
you've got potential to be an actor like Eve. You must be
kidding me," he spat, "one fox is enough."
Inukashi bared his teeth on purpose into a vulgar grin.
Rikiga's mouth twisted even more severely.
"The only members of your 'group' are your dogs," he
said. "You have as little trust for humans as the length of
your pinky. Keep shooting off lies like that, and one day
your tongue will rot."
"Ooh, I wouldn't want that," Inukashi said sarcastically.
"Fine, let's be frank. You first."
"Me―" Rikiga began. "Well, like I said, I want to back
out. I've been saying this over and over."
"That's honestly how you feel?"
"I'm an honest man. I don't lie."
"I can't even bring myself to laugh at your joke. Forget
your tongue. Watch it before your wang rots and falls off,
too. How much money did you spend to come up with
what's inside this bag, huh, old man? I'm sure you've gotten
tons of gold from Nezumi, but at best, that gold'll offset
your expenses and you'll be even... no, you'll probably be
down. If you scamper on back to your hole, you'll be losing
all that extra money you spent for nothing. Could you
stand that, really? Of course not. Are you the kind of
humble man to just back down and submit to your loss?
Hmm, even a pure and innocent kid like me finds that
hard to believe."
Inukashi whistled. A few dogs that had been laying low
near the walls stood up. He whistled again, this time at a
slightly lower pitch than before.
The dogs surrounded Rikiga. Without so much as a
snarl, they formed a circle with Rikiga at the centre.
"Don't assume they're just normal dogs that are a bit
on the big side," Inukashi said. "These guys have been
trained to be guard dogs since they were born. I trained
them myself, you'll see they're not just any kind of dog.
What would I call them... yeah, like elite troops trained
exclusively for the offense. They'll latch onto human
throats―hell, even a tiger's. It's too bad we don't have any
tigers around here. We got tons of humans, though."
Rikiga clutched his throat, and shrank back. A
pronounced fear swam in his bloodshot eyes.
"Inukashi... cut that out, that's a stupid joke." He
knew it was no joke. Rikiga's voice cracked, and the fear
in his eyes deepened.
Inukashi repressed his emotions, and continued
speaking in a flat tone. A cold, inscrutable voice was much
more fearsome than a rough and aggressive manner. He
had learned that from Nezumi.
 "Only Nezumi was able to escape from these guys. But
barely. They managed to chomp down on his shoulder.
Pretty deep. He didn't make a sound, but I think it must've
been painful."
"That Eve, huh... what an accomplishment."
"Hmph," Inukashi sniffed scornfully. "If you've got
better moves than Nezumi, old man, you'd be able to
make it through. If not―"
"As if I would be able to scurry around like Eve does.
Just climbing the stairs leaves me out of breath these
days, and I know it's nothing to brag about." Rikiga sighed
deeply, and let go of his throat. "Fine, Inukashi. I lose.
This is your kingdom, after all. I could struggle all I want,
but I wouldn't be able to win."
"Feel like coming clean now?"
Rikiga glanced furtively at Inukashi's face as if to
gauge his mood.
"Starting to resemble Eve more and more. Don't let
him poison you. Nothing good will come of it. Actually, you
might be beyond all help already."
"That was the most useful piece of advice I've ever
gotten from you since we met, old man. Thanks. But you
don't need to worry. Once this business is over and done
with, it's good-bye to him for good."
This was his honest intention.
 Inukashi didn't like to be around Nezumi. He couldn't
see through Nezumi at all, nor could he place a finger on
him. But despite that, Nezumi had a strange magnetism
about him. Inukashi found himself entangled in Nezumi's
web. Like Rikiga said, he was being poisoned by him.
Danger, danger. Gotta say good-bye.
"Good-bye? Are you leaving this place?" Rikiga asked.
"Never. This is my kingdom, I would never leave. I
wouldn't even hand this place over if No. 6's army came
crashing in. I'll be saying good-bye, but I won't be the one
leaving. It'll be Nezumi."
"Eve?"
"Yup. The fraudster actor." Inukashi licked his lips.
They felt dry. The dog that had been nursing Shionn gave a
wide yawn.
"He's a wanderer. He appeared in this place out of
nowhere, and decided to stay. Eventually he'll go
wandering again. He's like a whimsical cloud. He'll rain
himself out for a bit, and then he'll disappear over the
mountains."
"I see. So that's what you think of him."
"That's what I expect him to do."
I'll live on this land for the rest of my life. But he'll
probably disappear.
It was a gut instinct. He had nothing to prove it. He
had heard nothing from Nezumi himself. It was only
something that he, Inukashi, personally felt. But he felt
like he probably wasn't far from the mark.
Like the clouds travelling across the sky on the wind,
like petals scattered on the surface of a river, he's going
to vanish from our sight.
I can't wait.
"Well, enough about Nezumi. Enough about me, too.
That leaves you, old man. So? Why did you try to lead me
away from this plan? Why'd you go as far as to put on a
lame act just to make me withdraw?"
Rikiga puckered his lips, like Shionn did often. The
gesture on a plump baby was adorable, but on a
middle-aged man flushed with booze, it was rather
revolting. Inukashi averted his eyes.
"You've got it wrong," Rikiga insisted. "I was just scared
for my life. You could say I got cold feet. I was sitting
down with a few drinks, and the more I thought about it,
the more afraid I became of what I was about to do. All I
could think of was how much I didn't want to die, and I
just couldn't stand it anymore... I don't know if it's
because of the alcohol, but I feel like these days, once my
head gets fixed on a thought, it just stops working. I just
get stuck deeper and deeper in the rut. You know,
Inukashi, maybe I haven't got much longer to live."
Rikiga slumped his shoulders dejectedly. His eyes
turned pitiful, like a sodden puppy. Inukashi had felt pity
for sodden puppies before, and taken them under his wing
numerous times. But not humans. He felt even less
inclined when that human was carrying some emotional
burden.
Inukashi snapped his fingers.
A larger black dog, which had been standing in front of
Rikiga, crouched into an attack stance. It flashed its
canines and gave an intimidating growl. Its gaze was fixed
squarely on Rikiga's throat.
Rikiga gave a terrified whimper. "Hey, stop it."
"I don't have time for your hammy acting, old man.
That's it. I've had enough. Just answer my question. Once
you get your throat torn apart, you wouldn't be able to
talk even if you wanted to."
"I-I'm talking right now, aren't I?"
"Old man, you said before―the day before the Hunt.
When I said I wanted out from this plan, you were
hell-bent on stopping me. But today, you're saying both of
us should have nothing to do with it. Some 180-degree
change, don't you think?"
"I'm inconsistent. Always been."
The black dog snapped its jaws, opening its mouth
wide. Its sharp fangs showed, and saliva dripped onto the
floor. You could almost hear its steady pat-pat.
Rikiga clicked his tongue. "Tsk. I've gotten old, to take
threats from a dog-boy like you. Fine, I'll talk. That's what
you want, right? Fine. Damnit, this pisses me off."
 Rikiga produced a small bottle of whiskey from his
jacket pocket, and drained it in one draught. He let loose
a rude burp.
"Pray excuse my lack of manners, Your Majesty," he
said sarcastically. "So, Inukashi―about the strange
incidents that are occurring inside No. 6. Looks like they're
real. Everything seems to just have erupted all at once. I
didn't expect this turn of events. Couldn't even predict it."
"What's happening all at once?"
"Citizens dying right and left inside the walls."
"Holy City residents?"
"Yeah. Today was―what do you call it, the Holy Day, or
some festival or other, that honours the founding of the
city, right? People who gathered for the festivities just
collapsed all over the place. And none of them survived.
They died. Each and every one of them."
"Is that―an accident? Like a poisonous gas leak, or
something―"
"That would result in a massive death concentrated in
one place. But it looks like the commotion is happening all
over the city."
"Then what―terrorists?"
"Terrorists? Have there ever been terrorist
organizations in No. 6? That's the most
thoroughly-monitored city-state I've ever seen. There's a
city that exterminates undesirables right down to the last
cockroach. It's impossible."
"Then why's it happening?"
"I don't know. I've only skimmed the news from No. 6.
It pretty much said a random accident occurred in the
middle of the ceremonies that resulted in civilian death.
The ceremony was cancelled partway through."
"And where do you get 'dying left and right' from that?
Are you sure you're not just being delusional, old man?"
Rikiga's lip curled into a smug grin. "I've had a long
relationship with that city, you know. I've got my own
intelligence network. But, well... not all of them are
trustworthy, though. Anyway, if that city's media is saying
'a few deaths', then there has to be at least a few dozen.
When they say the cause is unclear, it means they have no
clue what it is. But this is No. 6. This city is home to some
of the brightest scientific minds. What in the world is
going on that they can't solve?"
What's going on? The thought crossed his mind
momentarily, but the answer was still shrouded in a fog.
He couldn't even make heads or tails out of it.
"You know the answer, old man?"
"Me? Obviously not. If I had that much power, I
wouldn't be sitting here being threatened by your dogs.
But―think, Inukashi. That high-and-mighty city is running
itself up the wall, unable to deal with the problems that
are occurring inside it. Doesn't it make you excited?"
 "Well, yeah..." Inukashi said somewhat dubiously.
Rikiga's grin widened. He looked genuinely happy.
Inukashi knew his dogs usually made that face when they
were given a pork rib.
"It's the first time, isn't it, Inukashi? No. 6 has never
been this confused... this is the first time. Maybe it'll turn
out as Eve said. No. 6 won't last much longer. It'll crumble
from the inside."
"Yeah..."
"You know, I've never taken that fraud of an actor for
his word. Neither have you."
"No, I haven't."
"But this time around, he might not have been tricking
us. That city might fall apart, just like Eve predicted. The
signs were all there. They're just getting stronger, building
up to this. And if that's true... then next, the big quake
will come―"
Rikiga's hands came together noisily as if to squash
something invisible.
"―and flatten it."
"Ahh, I see it now," Inukashi said. "You believe Nezumi,
old man. You believed the Holy City would fall. So would
the Correctional Facility. It might become true, and not
just end as a fairy tale. Which means the gold bullion
that's supposedly stored in the basement of the Facility is
starting to sound a lot more real too, along with the
chance of stealing that treasure. The possibility keeps
climbing."
Inukashi pointed a finger at the ceiling. Rikiga turned
aside.
"But then you started feeling reluctant," Inukashi
continued, "about sharing it with me. The more you
thought about it, the more you didn't want to hand it over.
So to get your full claim over the gold, you put on this
hammy act. You're helpless, old man. Forget booze, all
that greed has probably got to your brain and turned it to
mush."
"Not much better yourself. You seemed eager about
the gold bullion. You were licking your chops, you were."
"Yeah, I'm eager alright. It still makes me drool. But
let me tell you, until now I've been on the fence. I was
pretty suspicious about whether there was really gold in
the basement of the Correctional Facility. But if you're
going so far as to put on an act to snatch it all for
yourself, then... heh heh, I think now I believe it a lot
more. You got your information from a girl named Suru,
right?"
"Yeah. No. 6 executives are her best customers. When
a guy tells stories to his prostitute in bed, it's bound to be
trustworthy."
"I see. So, No. 6 gets to be wiped out and we get rich
at the same time. Sounds awesome. So great, in fact, I
think flowers are going to sprout on the top of my head."
 "If everything goes well."
"What? Don't rain on my parade here. I've had enough
of your theatrics."
"That's not it." Rikiga walked over to the windowsill.
The dogs silently made way for him.
"Inukashi..."
"What?" Inukashi snapped. "We gotta get going, or
else―"
"Do you think it'll really be destroyed?" It was a dazed
murmur. "Is No. 6 really going to disappear entirely?"
"Who knows." That was the only answer he had. Rikiga
continued to mumble as he stared out the window.
Inukashi's reply had probably not reached him.
"But... if that really happens... what'll appear in its
place?"
"Huh?"
"A world without No. 6... once that thing disappears,
what'll happen? What's going to appear out of it?"
Inukashi felt like someone had bumped him roughly on
the shoulder. He sucked a breath in. He felt like he was
breathing in tiny shards of glass. His chest pricked
painfully.
A world without No. 6. The aftermath.
He had never thought of it.
He couldn't even imagine it.
 What would appear?
He tightened his grip around the handle of the bag.
"I don't have a clue. I just know one thing is for sure."
Rikiga turned around and blinked at him.
"Money is money. No. 6 could disappear tomorrow, or
it could last for a thousand more years. It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter what appears. That gold is a hell of a lot
of treasure, and that's never gonna change."
"I see." Rikiga shook his head, grinning. "You're a tough
one. Hah. You might be an even tougher cookie than Eve. I
should watch out for the dog instead of the fox, shouldn't
I?"
The ambiguity was now wiped clean from his tone, and
Rikiga's face turned back into the one of the alcoholic that
Inukashi knew so well. This was the countenance of a
greedy but cowardly man, indulging in both booze and
women alike, living no dreams―just harsh reality. Inukashi
somehow felt relieved.
"Let's get going, old man."
"Yeah," Rikiga answered promptly this time, and
started walking. Inukashi snapped his fingers, and a few
dogs sprang up and bounded ahead of Rikiga out of the
room.
"Are you taking them, too?"
"Yeah. They'll be much more useful than what's inside
this bag."
 Shionn began to fret. The female dog swung its head
around and licked the tiny body gently with a warm, soft
touch. Inukashi remembered it, too. The baby would
probably soon fall fast asleep.
See ya, Shionn. You wait here. Be a good boy and
watch the house with the dogs while I'm gone.
I'll come home.
I'll come home for you someday.
Wait for me.
"Mama, mama, mama," Shionn called, right before he
was about to step out of the room. Inukashi closed his
eyes, and slowly pulled the door shut.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 3
The Arms of Reason

. . . but he who, provoked and nettled to the

quick by an offence, should fortify himself with
the arms of reason against the furious appetite of
revenge, and after a great conflict, master his
own passion, would certainly do a great deal
more.[1]
-Montaigne, Essays Book 2 Chapter XI

The shutters closed.

 Shion sprang up, and took in his surroundings. Teal
walls and a teal hallway stretched out before him. The
floor was made of a smooth, glossy material polished to a
spotless sheen, and reminded him of the cleanliness of a
hospital.
However, unlike a hospital, there were no windows or
doors.
He felt like he had been shut into a durable box. No, it
wasn't like a box―this was a box, a sealed box. There
were three barriers between where he stood now and the
prisoners' wing up ahead. Once all of them came down,
the box would further seal itself into multiple
compartments.
These were spaces designed to capture escaped
prisoners, if not execute them on the spot.
The barriers, far from being just walls, were also
designed to release high-voltage current. This beautiful
colour, close to indigo dye, was the colour of the
execution grounds.
The alarm went off.
The barriers began to roll down.
"Nezumi, run. We have to make it through."
Nezumi kicked off the ground. They ducked past the
first barrier. The second one was halfway down; the third
one was already two-thirds of the way down.
"Why?"
 Shion and Nezumi had reached the end of the hallway
by the time the third barrier had closed completely.
"Why, Shion?" Nezumi asked. "Why are the barriers so
slow? Getting through them is easy, at the speed they're
going."
"It might be... easy... for you..." Shion gasped. His
heart was straining in protest from running through the
hallway in a single dash. He couldn't breathe. It was far
from easy for him―he was almost at his limit. If the
barriers had fallen a second earlier, Shion would have
been caught between the barrier and the floor, his back
snapped in half.
"But this speed doesn't make sense. Why is it?"
"That accident... it's thanks to... the commotion about
the smell..."
"What do you mean?"
"I copied and sent... the emergency signal that the
third-floor computer recorded... to the fourth-floor
monitoring system. Along with a deactivation signal, too.
Right afterwards, the sensors would register us... and then
notify the system of an emergency again. Activation,
deactivation, and reactivation..."
"I see. And that took up a bit of time. But I don't know
how you could have done it in such a short while. The
third and fourth floors operate on different systems, don't
they?"
 "...Yeah, well, I managed." Shion had not expected it
to go this well. He had figured it was all or nothing and
given it a try, but he himself was surprised that such a
simple deception tactic would work against a leading,
cutting-edge defence system.
It's almost like God's hand had a part in it.
God's hand?
Did someone send us help?
That's absurd, that would never happen. But...
Shion.
I heard a voice call my name. Only for a moment.
This voice...
Safu?
No way, I'm hearing things.
Nezumi narrowed his eyes. The sharp glint in them
condensed.
"And the door we're making for?"
"The wall up ahead, on the far right."
Nezumi ran a hand against the wall.
"Oh, here." It was almost indiscernible from the teal
wall, but there was certainly a slight crack there. "There
aren't any handles or sensors. How do you open it?"
Yes, there were no handles or sensors. And ever since
the computer-operated maintenance system had been
completed, this door had gone out of use and lost all
meaning.
 "There might be an old-fashioned lock on it," Shion
suggested.
"My, my. How careless of them."
No one would be able to get this far without a
legitimate ID chip. Even if they had, no one would take
notice of this door. This was No. 6's judgment, and also its
folly.
"―which means we might be able to open it pretty
easily. Ah... it's just like you said. There's a keyhole here.
Looks like it'll break easily."
"Can you do it, Nezumi?"
"Probably. I can't let you steal all the spotlight. But
before that, I think we have to deal with those over
there."
"Huh?" Shion tried to turn around, and was shoved in
the shoulder instead. He staggered.
Ping.
A ray of light whizzed past Shion's eyes. It hit the wall,
and left a small burn.
"Well, well. Look what you've done to the wall, and it's
polished up so nicely, too. That would cost you a written
apology, wouldn't it?" Nezumi hunched his shoulders in
mock exasperation.
Three gunmen stood before them. They were clad in
military gear―dirt-coloured combat uniforms and boots.
Two barrels were pointed at Nezumi, and one at Shion.
 "Don't move. Put your hands up." The man in the lead
stepped forward, and took aim with his gun.
"Huh?" Nezumi said in mock surprise. "Oh, hey, will you
wait a minute? You gonna shoot me right here? Aren't you
getting a little ahead of yourself? I think I'd like to talk to
my attorney first."
The man wordlessly wrapped his finger around the
trigger.
"You sure about that? We're valuable samples."
The man stopped mid-movement. He had responded to
the word "sample".
"Sample... you say?"
"Yeah. You guys are collecting samples, aren't you? For
the Almighty Mayor's project?"
The men all shifted uneasily, and exchanged furtive
glances. For a split second, there was a moment of
vulnerability.
Tsukiyo sprang forth from inside Nezumi's shirt, dashed
along the length of the gun, leapt up, and bit down on the
man's nose.
"Whoa!" The man leaned back. Nezumi's knife slashed
through his wrist. Blood splattered everywhere, patterning
the wall. Snatching the gun from the falling man, Nezumi
took aim a second ahead of the men behind him, and
pulled the trigger.
 He shot one man through the shoulder, and the other
through his hand; both men cried out in pain. Nezumi spun
around on one foot as if doing a dance, and this time shot
the laser gun at the wall. He swung a kick into it next.
Tsukiyo scurried up his shoulder.
"It's open."
A space revealed itself, wide enough for an adult to
get through if he crouched. It was pitch-black inside.
"Ugh... it hurts..."
"S-Somebody!"
"Help me... help..." The men were groaning. Shion
could hear the sound of rapid footsteps. More soldiers,
each with a gun in hand, were rushing onto the scene.
There was a curved handle on the inside of the door.
Shion pulled it as hard as he could. The door closed with a
screech and a bang. They were shut into complete
darkness.
Just as he had predicted, there was a set of stairs in a
steep slope, almost like a ladder. Shion shed his lab coat
and tied one end to the door handle and the other end to
the handrails of the stairs. It wasn't much of a solution,
but it would buy them some time.
Nezumi slung the gun over his shoulder and clambered
lightly up the steps. Shion followed after him. The stairs
continued up on their steep slope, straight into the
darkness.
 His breathing grew laboured. The sweat stung in his
eyes. His feet threatened to trip him up. Shion pressed on
desperately. A moment of lateness could cost him his life.
It would endanger not only his own life, but Nezumi's as
well. He wanted to avoid putting Nezumi into danger at all
costs. He knew he was already a great burden to Nezumi,
but he at least wanted to avoid putting him in harm's way.
Nezumi muttered something.
"What? I didn't hear."
"Nothing. ...Just noticing how you didn't make a fuss."
"Make a fuss?"
"About those soldiers. There was lots of blood flying
back there. Usually you'd rattle off some grand spiel about
how we shouldn't harm others."
"Oh..." So that's what he meant.
The screams resounded in his ears. They didn't belong
to the soldiers. They were voices of the people whose
lives had been wrenched from them unfairly in the
basement of the Correctional Facility.
It hurts. I can't breathe. Help me.
O God, O God. Why do you make me suffer?
Please, just save my boy. He's only three.
Kill me. Please, release me from my pain...
Help, help, help, help, somebody.
What was a spray of blood on the teal floor compared
to this brutality, this ruthlessness? The soldiers would
receive care and medical attention from their comrades
who were rushing onto the scene. But those people...
Those who had been sacrificed in the Hunt, those
murdered people did not even have a way to alleviate the
suffering of their dying moments. Their groans, their
gasps, their cries, and their shrieks. It resounded in his
ears.
"We have no choice," he spoke to Nezumi's back in the
darkness. "It can't be helped. We have to defeat the
enemy. If you hadn't taken them down, I would have been
killed."
Nezumi stopped. Shion could see a pair of grey eyes.
His heart grew restless. Even in this darkness, your eyes
glow with elegance.
"It can't be helped... you really feel that way?"
"I do."
"...I see." Nezumi resumed walking. He walked swiftly.
Shion could barely keep up.
"Shion."
"Hm?"
"Back there, we were still able to go easy on them.
From now on, we won't have the chance to be as nice. You
were right: we have to defeat the enemy, or else we'll be
killed ourselves."
"Yeah."
 "If that happens..." Shion couldn't hear the rest. He
snapped his eyes open in the darkness.
"Nezumi, I can't hear you. Say it a little louder."
"No... never mind." Nezumi breathed out softly in the
dark.
I'm sighing.
He closed his mouth.
Never sigh in earnest.
They were the words of the old woman who had saved
him from the flames that devoured the forest, the village,
and their homes. She had raised him until the age of five.
Bite your lips to shreds before you let yourself sigh.
Throw your head back at the pain. Never look down. Look
forward. And most of all―
Never trust anyone. Never open your heart.
Remember that. You must engrave these words into your
memory in order to survive.
He had been taught over and over. It wasn't that he
had forgotten. Each word, each letter was deeply carved
into his heart―like a mantra, like a curse.
Sighing creates an opening, a vulnerability. If you
want to stay alive, keep your mouth shut. Never let
anyone see your weak spot. Let your heart warm to no
one. Never trust anyone but yourself.
You, at least... you at least must survive... you, at
least...
 He gripped the handrail.
Forgive me, gran. I've gone against what you've told
me. I've sighed many times for another. I believed him,
and opened my heart to him. I placed the shackles around
my own feet. But I couldn't have done otherwise. I
couldn't cut him away.
"Nezumi," Shion was calling. He was out of breath. He
had probably used up a considerable amount of energy.
"What're you thinking about?"
"You wanna know what I'm thinking about now? Getting
to the top of these stairs safely. Maybe a little wondering
about what's waiting to welcome us at the top, I guess."
It was you, Shion.
I was thinking about you.
You said we had no choice. They're enemies, so we
had no choice but to make them bleed. If we didn't kill
them, we'd be killed ourselves. That's why we had to take
them down.
That's what fighting is. We kill, or get killed: those
are the only choices. And in a melee, there is no such
thing as justice or morality. I know that. It's been instilled
into the marrow of my bones. But, Shion, you―are you
just going to accept that? Are you able to? Are you letting
yourself?
'You put everything into dichotomies. You either love
or you hate. You're either friends or enemies. Outside the
wall, or inside the wall. And you always say you can only
ever choose one of them.'
'Don't you think that there could be a third way?'
I had scoffed at what you'd said. I scorned it as a
naive fantasy. But you know what? I felt intimidated, too.
I felt threatened by your naivety, but also your strength
to be able to speak of fantasies as if they were plausible.
When I heard those words, just for an instant―a short
instant, mind you―I could really see a way. A white path
rose up behind my eyelids.
The third way.
The way to seek cohabitation rather than retribution,
perhaps?
A way that chooses acceptance over revenge?
Could such a thing exist, apart from in illusions? Could
it exist in the hearts of people?
I've been thinking about it all this time. I didn't want
to think about it, but your words always sat adamantly in
the middle of my thoughts, reminding me constantly.
'Turn your thoughts to this third way,' they would tell me,
'don't refuse, don't look away; keep thinking about this
path.'
I haven't found the answer yet. That's why I'm still
thinking. I'm still fixated on your words, and pondering
them.
But Shion, now this is what you're saying?
 'We have no choice.'
If in the future, I end up killing someone―no, if you
yourself were to harm someone―how about then? Would
you still say so?
'We had no choice.'
They were at the top of the stairs. It was such a
cramped space that they had barely any room to stand.
"Shion, there's no exit."
There was no handle or button to be found. Only a
blank wall.
We've messed up.
His heart pounded. Cold sweat streamed down his
back. If this was a dead end, then there was no escape for
them. They could not fend off the pursuers coming from
below.
"Up," Shion yelled. "Push the ceiling up!"
Nezumi's body sprang into motion on Shion's orders.
Bang. The middle portion of the ceiling opened up like
a trap door. Nezumi kicked off the ground, and launched
himself up. Just then, he heard a clamour below.
The door had been forced open.
"They're up there! Aim for them!" The unique dry
popping sound of firearms.
"Shion!" He extended his hand, and he could feel Shion
latching onto it tightly. He pulled the other boy up.
 "Agh!" Shion let out a small cry.
"Did they get you?"
"―'m alright. Just a graze."
Once they shut the trap door, all noise was cut off,
and only an eerie silence remained. Shion let out a long
breath.
"Does it hurt?"
"No―no big deal."
"First time, huh?"
"Hm?"
"It's your first time getting fired at. And a sniper rifle,
at that―a pretty old firearm. Sleek looks, deadly accuracy.
That's the kind of formidable lady you're dealing with."
"I see. Well, attractive as she is, I wouldn't like to go
on any future dates with her." Shion laughed quietly as he
bound his calf.
Perhaps he was straining himself. But it meant that he
could still push himself further, and that the wound wasn't
so bad that he couldn't move. Not that it mattered how
bad his injury was, anyway: they had to keep moving.
They could not stay in one place.
That was why he would not question Shion further. He
would not concern himself with the boy. They only had to
keep moving forward together.
"Shion, where's this?"
 "A part of the old air vents. I suppose they used these
when this place was just built. But soon afterwards, they
built new external reinforced walls. They added
circulatory filtration devices, and these vents went out of
use."
"Which means they stopped needing them right when
the Correctional Facility was turning into a stronghold. So
the old vents must be―here." Nezumi's extended hand
pointed to a rectangular tunnel.
"What's down this way?" he asked.
"Probably a dead end. They've probably blocked it up
partway."
"I thought so. I figured it wouldn't be as easy as
worming our way right to the internal core through the
vents."
"Yeah. But we'll have to go as far as we can."
He was right. There was no way back. They had no
choice but to go as far as they could go.
"Shion, I'll boost you up. Go on ahead."
"'kay."
Shion dove into the hole more nimbly than Nezumi
expected. He felt the slimy texture of blood as he
supported Shion's leg. He clenched his hand into a fist.
"Hey, this thing opens." The upper body of a soldier
peeked into view along with his voice. As soon as the
soldier hoisted himself up, Nezumi kicked his chin so it
snapped back, and swung his rifle butt down on the man's
temple. He dragged the unconscious body up into the
vent, aimed his gun through the opening, and began to
fire. He heard bodies tumbling down the stairs. He closed
the trapdoor, and rolled the soldier's body over it.
"He's got a nice beer gut. That should serve as a good
weight." Nezumi rifled through the man's pockets and
almost whistled.
"Nezumi, what're you doing? Hurry up," Shion called.
"Don't rush me. We gotta get the most we can from
them," he answered.
He entered the hole head-first. It was cramped. He
had to lie flat on his belly in order to even move. Tsukiyo
hopped out from the folds of his clothes and scurried down
the tunnel.
"It's like a mouse hole in here," Shion reflected idly.
Still got his wits, he thought fleetingly. The boy was
calmer than he expected. It wasn't an ignorant kind of
calm; Shion understood his situation well enough. He felt
the danger and tension of it, and yet also had room to be
calm on top of it all.
But why?
"We couldn't have gotten through here if we were any
fatter," Shion said thoughtfully.
"Well, I guess."
 "Inukashi could get through just fine. Rikiga-san might
have a bit of trouble."
"Rikiga? You mean the alcoholic geezer? He wouldn't
have been able to get this far in the first place. He
would've tripped and fallen over when we had to dash
down the hall."
"So by now..."
"He would've been charred black. I feel ill just
imagining what Roasted Old Man would look like."
Cheep-cheep-cheep.
Tsukiyo answered in place of Shion. Shion stopped
moving.
"Dead end?"
"Yeah."
Dead end. I see. So this is it.
"It's a dead end. But..." Shion's palm slid along the
wall. There was a soft clunk as a part of it fell away. Light
seeped through.
"The grate. They must've blocked it from our side."
"What do you see?"
Shion tilted his body sideways to make an opening.
Nezumi looked out through the plastic bars.
It was a tidy and spacious room that looked like a
laboratory. Straight across from them was a large glass
window, where several male and female researchers were
huddled together, peering through it and conversing
animatedly. A man said something with a grandiose
gesture, and a long-haired woman gave a toothy grin.
They both had steaming mugs in hand. Apart from them
were several other staff busy looking into their computer
screens. There was also a stooped-looking man bustling
about on foot.
"It looks like a comfortable room," Nezumi
commented. "Maybe they'd let me use their shower if I
asked. Let's pay them a visit."
"What? We can't get out through such a tiny opening."
"If it's too small, we just have to make it wider."
"Huh?"
"Keep back, Shion. Just retreat as you are."
"Nezumi, what're you gonna do?"
"Just watch."
"Is that... a miniature bomb?" Shion swallowed.
"Yup. A coin-shaped micro-bomb, more like. It even
comes with a timer, and I can control how large the
explosion's gonna be. It was a good buy."
"Where did you buy it? I didn't even realize."
"Are you being dense on purpose?" Nezumi said
irritably. "Did we have time to do shopping since we got
here? I nicked it from Beer Gut earlier. But anyway, who
cares about that. Shion, get back. A little more. And take
Tsukiyo."
 "About here?"
"Perfect. Hold your head with both hands. Once it
explodes, we're gonna jump right out. Be prepared."
Bomb set.
Nezumi shrugged his superfibre cape off, and covered
his head with it. He kept retreating until his foot touched
Shion's shoulder.
"Nezumi."
"What?"
"Now it's like you're shielding me. I might end up safe,
but you―"
"Idiot. Who the fuck cares about our positions at this
point? Stop wasting your breath."
How stupid can he get?
What an idiot. But it was just like Shion. No matter
the situation, he never forgot about others. It was just
like him, indeed.
Relief welled up from the bottom of his chest.
Voom.
An explosion. And then, wind. A blast of air rushed
through the cramped tunnel. Tsukiyo let out a shrill squeal
of terror.
"Shion! You safe?"
"Of course. Tsukiyo and I are both okay."
 "Good."
There was no dust, perhaps because the wall was
made of a special material. The bomb was considerably
powerful, and despite the fact that he had set it to make
the smallest explosion possible, it had blown apart a large
part of the wall.
They jumped down. Screams rang out all around. Staff
began to flee the room.
"Who are you?" A heavyset man drew a gun from his
lab coat. Nezumi rushed at him and aimed a swift swipe at
the base of his neck. The man fell forward onto his belly.
The security bells were ringing.
Keep running like this?
They couldn't stay here for long. In a few dozen
seconds, soldiers would be streaming into the room. They
had no choice but to run. But to where?
"Shion, what next? Give me orders. Hurry."
There was no answer.
Shion, what's wrong? Don't tell me...
A cold sweat trickled down his spine.
He turned around to see Shion at the glass window,
looking down through it as the staff members had been
doing earlier. A dim light filtered through the
highly-polished glass pane.
"What the hell are you doing? Move!"
 Shion slowly turned his face towards Nezumi. He was
completely ashen. His features were rigid, almost wooden.
Nezumi had never seen Shion with such a face before.
What's wrong?
As soon as the thought passed, he realized that the
hem of Shion's pants was soaked red. The gunshot wound
had been deep. He's fainting from blood loss. That was his
first thought.
"Shion, you alright?"
A pair of lips trembled lightly in the deathly pale face.
"Nezumi... this..." Shion trailed off, and swallowed
with some difficulty. "What is this...?"
"Huh?"
There was no time to stop. He knew well enough, but
the stricken expression on Shion's face drew him to stand
by his side. His foot trampled something. It was a wooden
photo frame. In the photo was a woman with a baby in her
arms and a boy of about ten. It had probably been
knocked off a staff member's desk. It was an outdated
digital display. Both the woman and the boy were smiling
somewhat sheepishly from the photo.
He lifted his gaze, and looked through the glass in
front of him.
The space beyond was a storey lower, as if it were
embedded in the ground. The ceiling was higher,
accordingly. It was a room with white walls.
 "Gh―"
He had recoiled without even thinking.
What―is this?

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 4
Are you sad?

"Are you sad?"

"Yes, I am."
"You're not really, are you?"
"No, I'm not."
-Hoshi Shin'ichi, "Bokko-chan", Short Short 1001[1]

Two conveyer belts were running. Humans lay on them.

Someone had put them there.
They were not alive. He could tell clearly even from
where he stood behind the glass.
Bodies. Several dozen, maybe even a hundred, were
being carried down. A half-moon shaped device of
enormous size was operating beyond.
The bodies were sucked in one after another into two
square openings. It seemed like the glass was of a special
kind, for he could hear nothing of what was occurring on
the other side.
 Bodies slipped by continuously in this silent scene.
There were men. Women. Children and adults.
Clothed and naked. Their statures, ages, and sexes ranged
broadly.
"Why are their heads... all..." The words stuck in his
throat. They became a lump that blocked his airway.
The top half of the head had been cut away from
every corpse. A translucent plastic dome had been placed
on top instead. Men and women, children and adults―all
had been fitted with bowl-shaped plastic from the
forehead up.
"―Samples," Shion said, heaving a breath with his
shoulders. "They're samples."
"What do you mean?"
"Brains... they needed human brains as samples."
"―So these bodies have all had their brains removed?"
"Yeah― I think so. And I think they've all finished
serving their purpose. So―"
"So?"
"They're being disposed of."
This time, Nezumi was the one to swallow hard.
The half-moon-shaped device at the other end of the
belt: was that for disposing the corpses? Did it burn them
instantly to ashes? Did it grind them up and then dry them
into dust? Or did it use some special chemical to melt
them right down to their bones?
The bodies were being sucked in.
People who had been alive just moments
before―living, speaking, crying, loving one another―were
being disposed of like trash.
How... how could... No. 6, how could you be so cruel?
How could you have turned out to be so ruthless?
"They're not humans." Shion's voice reached his ears. It
was no whisper. It was crisp and clear. "This isn't any
human deed." His fist pounded the reinforced glass.
This isn't any human deed.
But the staff clad in white had been standing here
conversing only moments earlier. They had been sipping a
warm drink from their mugs. They had been engrossed in
their work.
Are they all monsters?
Nezumi's eye caught the photograph at his feet.
The smiling woman, the smiling boy. The sleeping
baby.
'Look, look over here. Smile, come on!'
'Daddy, I'll take a picture next.'
'Honey, make sure you get the baby, too.'
He could almost hear the family's conversation―so
typical, yet so precious all the same.
 Is the guy who had this propped up on his desk a
monster, too?
He felt a presence. The enemy approaching.
Nezumi felt like someone had struck him on the
cheek. He was wide awake. He yanked Shion by the arm,
and burst out into the hallway.
We gotta run, Shion. We can't let ourselves die here.
His whole body reared its arms in order to survive. His
thoughts, his senses, his fingertips, even each hair of his
head acted solely for his survival.
We cannot die.
"Right!" Shion's calm orders sliced the air. "Thirty
metres to the right."
Thirty to the right. There was no time to think about
what was there. Strangely, the barriers were not coming
down. But he also had no time to think about why.
Run. Wait, never mind.
Soldiers appeared before them.
"Squat down! Curl up!" Nezumi tossed the coin-shaped
bomb across the floor, and fired at it. There was an
ear-splitting explosion. Shattered glass sprayed
everywhere.
"We're going in!"
There was no way out if they let themselves be
surrounded. In the face of a firing squad, they had no
chance at all. They had no choice but to charge into the
thick.
"Don't leave my side."
A broken sprinkler was spraying water left and right.
Nezumi leapt into the knot of drenched soldiers.
He swung the blade of his hand against a soldier's
throat, and stabbed his knife into another as he spun
around. As the soldier clutched his shoulder and fell
forward, Nezumi extracted a military knife from the man's
waist belt and slashed the wrist of another enemy that
was coming his way. A handgun fell and clattered loudly
across the floor as blood and water mixed and flowed
together.
None of the soldiers uttered a word. They remained
silent and carried highly harmful military firearms in
addition to the laser guns, which were still in the stages of
development. They were silent, swift, and precise in their
kill. They had probably been trained that way.
But when it comes to handling knives, I'm the better
one.
In hand-to-hand combat, lower-tech firearms would be
much more effective than high-tech weapons. Also, in
certain situations, a knife would probably be much more
useful than the most up-to-date gun. Especially if he could
wield the knife as if it were one of his own limbs.
After seeing three of their comrades defeated in the
blink of an eye, the rest of the soldiers lost the fluidity of
their movements. This was a retaliation they had not
expected. Stiffness was a weak point, and Nezumi aimed
squarely at it. He twisted the arm of the soldier in front of
him, and pressed his knife to the man's throat from
behind.
"Don't move." He licked his lips, and commanded the
rest of the soldiers.
"Throw away your guns, or consider this guy dead."
The soldiers bolted back a step at once.
Will it go well? Could I make my escape, using this guy
as a shield?
"Shion."
"Yeah."
"You alive?"
"Yeah. You moved so fast, I don't think any of the guys
had a chance to turn on me."
"Perfect. Now use this guy as a shield, and―"
There was a burst of applause.
"Magnificent show. But that's quite enough."
The soldiers immediately parted, as if those words had
been a signal. A man threaded his way in from between
them. He stood before the two boys, and raised his right
hand airily.
"Enough fun and games. VC103221 and Shion, was it?"
 Shion let out a cry.
"You know him?" Nezumi asked. "Don't tell me he's your
uncle or something."
"He's an Investigating Officer from the Security
Bureau―called Rashi."
"So you remembered me," the man said. "An honour.
Luck seems to bring us together quite frequently, doesn't
it? You've grown tougher since I saw you last. I would never
have expected you to come infiltrating the Correctional
Facility. I'm shocked, to tell you the truth. However, I am
happy to see you again."
"Why thank you," Shion said guardedly. "I wasn't
expecting to see you here, either. I'm surprised, too."
"Yes, yes, about that. To tell you the truth, my real
profession is a military training instructor. Excuse me for
not properly introducing myself last time."
"Get his business card, Shion. It'll come in handy when
you're job-hunting."
Rashi twisted one side of his mouth into a smile.
"A way with words, as usual, boy. But your way with
the knife is even better than your tongue. Admirable. I
would never have expected you to take control of my
subordinates so easily. Ah, simply brilliant. Worthy of
praise. I would even consider recruiting you."
 "A tantalizing proposal, but I have to refuse," Nezumi
said. "What's this military training you're talking about,
huh? Does target practice include shooting prisoners?"
Rashi chuckled. "We have that, too. Or we have
training sessions where we exterminate foolish rats that
have wandered in."
Nezumi twisted the soldier's arm with even greater
force. "Throw away your guns and clear the way," he said.
Rashi shook his head. "You two are brilliant. Not
anyone can get as far as this. Brilliant, indeed. But
unfortunately, you are also young."
Rashi slowly raised his right hand. "Your plan is not
well-thought out to the end."
A gun barrel was pointed their way.
Huh?
"Stop!" The soldier twisted desperately. Nezumi let his
arm go. A bullet pierced the soldier as he staggered
forward. His wounded body crashed to the ground. Water
poured on him from the ceiling. The soldier raised his
face, and his gaze wandered as if he were searching for
something. Then, he called.
"Mother."
The voice reached Nezumi's ears.
To kill a subordinate so easily...
Then a savage pain tore through his shoulder and leg.
 "Nezumi!"
Shion's arms caught him from behind. The water
caught both their feet, and they toppled to the floor. Pain
raced through his whole body.
"...ts..." Nezumi gritted his teeth. Sweat poured off
his body, and his heart thudded rapidly.
"Come, come. Superfibre may be amazing, but it's
useless if you don't wrap it properly. You can't hold a knife
anymore, can you? Nor can you hop or dart around. Now
you're finally quiet. I've had a splendid time, but the
games are over, 103221."
Over? Does it all end here?
Rashi furrowed his brow, and sighed.
"I wasn't expecting to be met with so much trouble. A
shame, really. A shame that I must to kill you, but―it
cannot be helped. I won't draw it out longer than it has to
be. I will respect your efforts in battle and I will let you go
in peace. A bullet per person should do the job."
"Compassionate... aren't you?" Nezumi said.
"Do you have any last words?"
Is this really the end?
Suddenly, the sprinklers stopped. The barriers began
to come down at once. A buzz of anxiety ran through the
crowd of soldiers. Rashi's gaze also roved.
 It was their chance. They would take advantage of this
opening and steal that gun. A chance to return from the
brink of death―but his body would not move.
"What's going on?"
"The barriers are just beginning to work."
"That's absurd, why―"
"Run! We'll be trapped!"
Once the barriers came down completely, a
high-voltage current would run through the sealed space.
No one would survive.
"Run! Get out of here!"
The soldiers broke into a run, with wounded comrades
in their arms.
"Sir, the walls are coming down. Hurry!" A soldier
stopped, turned around, and yelled. "Sir!"
The walls were coming down―coming straight down.
Nezumi felt like his shoulder was on fire. He pressed a
hand to his open wound, and smiled wanly.
"He's calling you. Don't you need to go?"
"After I get rid of you two."
The barrel of his gun was pointed straight at Nezumi's
heart. Shion's arm slid around his chest from behind, as if
he were trying to protect him. Nezumi placed his hand on
top. Shion's arm was covered in dirt and blood.
I see. So I am going to die with you.
 He leaned back onto Shion and let out a long breath.
The tension left his body.
But he would not close his eyes.
He would behold the world before him with a steady
gaze until his last moments.
Shion's arm tightened around him.
I won't close my eyes. Not until the last moment―
He heard a gunshot right beside him. It was a muffled
sound, as if he were underwater. Red flowers bloomed on
Rashi's shirt. Petals flew all around.
What...?
Rashi staggered back a few steps before leaning
heavily with his back against the wall. He slid to the
ground. Crimson petals also fluttered from his lips.
Nezumi drew a breath, but could not release it.
Those aren't flower petals. ―It's blood.
Blood had sprayed the wall. It was like someone had
carelessly hurled red paint at it. Rashi bowed his head. A
startling amount of blood poured out and dyed his lower
body.
What―? What just happened?
"Sir!"
A scream. Then, the wall closed it off completely. For
a moment, it was like a soundless void. A brief moment of
quiet peace. He could breathe out now, and he could pull
himself up.
"...Shion?" He twisted his head to look at the boy who
was cradling him. "Shion―oh―"
He could breathe out, but no words would come. His
heart was beating harder, more frantic and fast.
Shion's hand was wrapped around a gun. A
small-calibre semi-automatic pistol. It was an official
military-issue pistol that could shoot even through a
bullet-proof vest. Just earlier, Nezumi himself had swiped
it out of the soldier's hands and battered it to the ground.
The smoke from the gun wavered in the air. The sharp
smell of gunpowder pricked his nostrils. Sweat stung his
eyes. His mouth turned dry, and his tongue stiffened. He
could hear the sound of it tearing as he forced it to move.
"Shion... what have you..."
Shion withdrew his arm from Nezumi, and stood up.
He slowly made his way towards Rashi.
"Ngh..." Rashi groaned. He lifted his face, and his body
trembled slightly.
"...You amateur..." A barely audible murmur trickled
from his lips, along with a stream of blood. "At least...
aim... for a fatal spot..."
"I have something to ask you," Shion said, with gun still
in hand. It was a low voice, stripped of all emotion. "Why
didn't you activate the barriers immediately?"
 "...They wouldn't move..."
"So they weren't functioning."
"...Yes..."
"Why not?"
"...I don't know..."
"You and your people would have paused the barrier
system temporarily before coming here, just in case. But
this time, they started moving on their own... am I right
so far?"
Rashi quaked as he looked up at Shion imploringly.
"...Please. Put me to rest."
Tears spilled from his eyes.
"Answer me," Shion said.
"...Yes... out of control... cause unknown..."
"Out of control. Cause unknown..." Shion repeated
thoughtfully.
"I know... nothing... Shion, I beg you... hurry... put me
to rest... save me..."
"Save you?" Shion's shoulders twitched. "I heard those
same words just earlier. In the basement of this building."
It was then that Nezumi was finally able to stand.
Blood streamed from his shoulder and leg, but he felt no
pain.
 He had to stand up. He had to grab Shion's arm. He
had to stop him.
Shion, what the hell are you trying to do?
His legs gave way. He tripped and landed on his knees.
A soldier's corpse was lying right beside him. It was a
young man. He had black, frizzy hair and was wearing a
golden necklace. It was glittering. 'Mother'―it was almost
like his last word was still plastered to his lips.
"You people threw this man into the basement. He was
a victim of the Hunt. He couldn't die, so he came begging
to me. 'Help me,' he said. When this man was writhing in
agony, what were you doing? Drinking coffee? Taking a
bath? Giving a lecture?"
"...Please... put me... it hurts..."
"I couldn't save him."
"...Help me..."
"I couldn't save anyone."
Shion's right arm rose slowly.
"Shion, stop!"
A gunshot rang out.
Nezumi closed his eyes, and turned away. The smell of
gunpowder grew stronger. Mixed with the stench of blood,
the air grew thick and viscous. It was a stench he was used
to―almost too used to―and yet, he still felt like throwing
up. He couldn't bear it.
 He didn't want to open his eyes.
If he did, he would have to face reality. He wanted to
keep his eyes closed, and escape to a place that was not
here.
I don't want to see it.
Whoosh.
He felt a breeze.
He smelled flowers. The faintly sweet smell of
wildflowers.
Whoosh.
The breeze touched his cheek, and caressed his bangs.
Oh, it's that again. It's... that.
He opened his eyes.
The light stung.
A field stretched out before him.
A field of tender grass. The wind was still somewhat
sharp and cold, but the rays of the sun were strong. Small
white flowers bloomed everywhere, swaying in the
breeze, and glowing in the sunlight. There were misty
mountain peaks in the distance. Were those lakes on the
mountain-skirts, white pools reflecting the light of the
sun? Lakes and marshes both large and small dotted the
land. The sky was an indigo blue. It was such a deep
azure, it looked like it could colour everything else with
its pale shade. But the flowers still bloomed white on the
ground, and the grasses were a gentle green.
In the sky he saw blue, on the land green, and he saw
the forest.
There was a forest beyond the meadow. He could hear
the rustling of the trees. White-backed leaves were
fluttering. Birds soared up, and swooped down again. A
fluff ball drifted past Nezumi's line of vision.
He wanted to chase it.
Can I chase it?
Nezumi had lifted his face to look up. Looking up at...
whom?
"Come here."
There was a gentle voice, and he felt his body being
tenderly lifted up.
Oh, it's that again.
It steals my consciousness, and bears my soul away.
He felt like a little child. He was being carried gently.
Like a small, small child.
Last time, it was summer.
He had smelled the hot air rising from the grass.
Was it springtime now? The scenery was more
subdued. The wind, the light, the smells, the colours were
all soft and gentle, encircling Nezumi in an embrace.
 "I will teach you a song."
He shook his head. "I can do it... I can sing."
"You can sing? That song?"
"Yeah." Nezumi straightened his posture, and drew
himself up.
The wind steals the soul away, humans thieve the
heart
O earth, wind, and rain; O heavens, O light
Keep everything here
Keep everything here, and
Live in this place
O soul, my heart, O love, my feelings true
Return home here
And stay
The wind stopped. It's listening to the song, Nezumi
thought. The wind subsided, and the balls of fluff began to
fall slowly to the ground.
"I see. So you can sing."
His hair was caressed. He was gently rubbed on the
back.
"Sing some more. Let me hear a little more of your
song."
The wind steals the soul away, humans thieve the
heart
But here I will stay
to keep singing
 Please
Deliver my song
Please
Accept my song
His eyelids drooped. All the strength left his body.
"...I'm sleepy."
"Then go to sleep."
Could I close my eyes like this, and drift off into a
slumber?
"Go to sleep. I will take you there."
"...Where are you going?"
"To the forest."
"To the forest?"
"Go to sleep. Think of nothing, and let yourself rest."
Is it really alright for me to go to sleep like this?
His body rocked back and forth. He was comfortable.
So comfortable...
"I'm going back!" he heard himself yell.
He had to go back. He could not let himself drift off
asleep. He had to return to reality, where Shion was. It
didn't matter what awaited him there; he couldn't let
himself flee on his own.
Shion.
 I need to return to you.

He felt a cough coming up. The smoke and the stench

of blood filtered deep into his body. A fit of coughs
overtook him. He wiped his mouth, and stood up.
He could see Shion with his back to him. The boy stood
with both arms dangling at his sides. The pistol was still in
his right hand.
"I can't save anyone," Shion said in a muffled voice. He
was repeating it.
I can't save anyone.
"―Shion," Nezumi tried calling the boy's name.
Shion, do you hear my voice?
"Nezumi."
Shion's eyes focused on Nezumi. Joy ignited within
them. A smile spread widely across his face. A sigh of
relief spilled from his lips. The pistol slid from his hand.
"Thank goodness you're safe. But―you're bleeding a
lot. Are you alright? We have to bind that wound, at
least."
Shion took off his sweater and started ripping the
sleeve.
"This is all I have, but it might serve as a bandage.
Give me your shoulder, and I'll bind it."
 It was the usual Shion. His usual tone, his usual gaze.
He was naive and foolish, ignorant, idealistic,
unbelievably honest, and warm.
Nezumi's heart ached. He felt burning at the back of
his eyes.
"Shion."
"What? Does it hurt?"
"You protected me."
"Huh?"
"Don't forget that. You... protected me."
"Me?"
Shion closed his mouth, and blinked at him repeatedly.
His gaze slid to and focused on the pistol lying on the
floor. Then, it moved to the man slumped lifeless against
the wall. He had been shot between the eyes.
Quite something, Nezumi thought fleetingly.
The bullet had pierced the man squarely in the middle
of his forehead. Despite the fact that it was at point-blank
range, shooting a target without a sight was not an easy
feat for an amateur.
Shion's breathing quickened. He brought his palms up
to his face. He stared at them intently as if there were
some cryptic letters carved into them. His palms, his
arms, his whole body trembled.
"Nezumi―what have I done?"
 "You protected me. You saved me with your life―"
"No!" Shion's scream resounded in the confined space.
"You're wrong! You're wrong! You're wrong!"
"I'm not wrong!" Nezumi shot back. "I would've been
killed if it weren't for you. He wouldn't have been sitting
there bleeding. It would've been me."
He pointed at Rashi.
"I would've looked like that."
He grabbed Shion's arms. He shook the boy with all his
might. Shion's head jerked back and forth. He was like a
marionette dangling on broken strings.
"Listen. Listen to what I say. You protected me, do you
understand? You saved me. Shion."
Listen, Shion. Grasp my words. Believe them.
"If I were you, I would have done the same. I would
definitely have done it. This is a battlefield. If we don't
kill, we get killed. What you did was justified."
Nezumi chewed his lip. The words crumbled and
rotted as soon as they slipped out of his mouth. This isn't
what I really want to say.
Then, what did he want to say? What do I really want
to tell Shion right now?
"Nezumi..." Shion murmured hoarsely. "I... killed him."
He got up, and picked the handgun off the floor.
 "I don't know how. But without any hesitation at all, I
was able to just... kill another human being."
Their eyes met.
What do I have to tell him?
"Is that forgivable? Is that something... that's allowed
to be forgiven?"
The mere 5.4-mm diameter of the barrel seemed so
large to his eyes.
"You said once that No. 6 and I were very similar. I said
you were wrong. But... maybe you were right. I am like
that city. It doesn't matter why I did it. I coldly, ruthlessly,
wrenched a man's life from him. Nezumi―"
Total length: 155 mm. Weight: 460 g. Shots equipped:
8. Rifling: 4 grooves, clockwise.
How many shots are left?
"Can I be forgiven...?"
Shion closed his eyes.
Shion? What are you doing?
"Stop―!"
Nezumi had raised a cry. Not with his voice, but with
his whole body. He lunged at the boy, and punched him as
hard as he could. As Shion crumpled to the ground,
Nezumi straddled him.
"Stop fucking around!"
 He grabbed the boy by his collar, and struck him across
the cheek.
"You must ― be fucking ― kidding me !"
He could feel his palm hitting flesh again and again.
"You bastard, who do you think you are? We've come
this far, and now you think you can run away? Put yourself
out of your misery? Fucking bullshit!"
Shion whimpered softly.
"You traitor," Nezumi snarled. "Are you saying that you
can't be forgiven for killing someone else, but you can be
forgiven for killing yourself? You know that if you go on
and commit suicide, you'll be murdering two people. Why
don't you get it?" His last words came out like a pained
plea.
Tsukiyo leapt up onto his shoulder and screeched
loudly and insistently. He looked like he was trying to get
between them.
Shion didn't resist at all. He looked like he wasn't even
breathing. His eyes were open, but they were sightless.
The edge of his mouth was cut and bleeding, and dried
blood was caked on his lips.
He's totalled ― wounded all over.
Would it have been better if they had not come?
Nezumi knew more than enough that once they infiltrated
the Correctional Facility, it would be a battlefield. He
knew, and he had still dragged Shion in. The rescue of the
girl, Safu, was only an excuse for Nezumi. He wanted
Shion's power. He wanted the boy's power to perfectly
memorize the innards of the Facility, and to give precise
orders. He wanted to borrow―no, take advantage of―
Shion's power to destroy the Correctional Facility, and put
a crack in No. 6's core. Shion was a good weapon to serve
this purpose, and this was a happenstance more lucky than
anything Nezumi could ask for.
Yeah, I used Shion.
But if the results of it had been this ― this ― then, it
was better if they had not come. We should never have
set foot in here.
He had, of course, been prepared for a brutal
struggle. He had recognized that they were waging a
reckless war with less than a one-percent chance of
winning, and yet he had had the resolve that they would
emerge as victors; he had both the eager heart and the
restraint of reason, and he had been so certain that he
had it all.
And that it was we ― not No. 6 ― who controlled the
state of things.
There was no battle without preparation. There was
no victory without solid certainty.
There should have been nothing wrong with what he
thought. He was certain he had not gone astray.
 Nezumi gritted his teeth. He felt like he would almost
succumb and kneel to the reality that stood before him. I
never imagined that it would turn out like this.
We shouldn't have come. We were not supposed to
come here. I shouldn't have dragged Shion into my battle.
It had finally dawned on him. But it was too late.
"Shion." I'm the one who should be asking whether I'll
be forgiven. I should be the one begging for forgiveness,
not you.
"Shoulder it," he whispered. The words tore through
his gritted teeth and spilled from his lips. Shion's eyes
moved slowly. They narrowed slightly, as if attempting to
focus on Nezumi.
"Shoulder it― shoulder it, and live on." They were
words for himself, not Shion.
Bear your sin, and live.
Shion, I'm sorry. I made you bear the burden, one so
big it's making your spine creak. Would I be forgiven one
day? Would you forgive me for what I did to you?
Shion let out a long breath.
An arm reached out, and a set of fingertips touched
Nezumi's cheek.
"It's my first time... seeing you cry."
"Huh?"
Cry? Who?
 "It's alright, Nezumi... don't cry. I get it. I'll do as you
say. So just don't cry, please."
"Idiot," Nezumi said hoarsely. Really, how idiotic can
you get? Still caring for others in a situation like this.
What's 'alright'? Nothing's alright. Besides, I'm not crying.
I'm not like you, I don't just let my tears fall wherever
and whenever I want, without hesitation―
He had reached his limit. He couldn't hold it in any
longer. A wave of tears overcame him, and they streamed
from his eyes. The droplets were startlingly hot. They
rolled down his cheeks, dripped from the point of his chin,
and landed on top of Shion.
Damnit, why are these tears―damnit.
He let his body sink on top of Shion's as his sobs spilled
out.
Damnit. Bastard. Bastard.
"Shion."
"Mm..."
"I don't know how to stop my tears."
"Mm-hmm," Shion murmured.
"I really... don't know. If this keeps going it's gonna
be... bad."
"Yeah?" Shion said softly.
"It would be. Think about it: if Inukashi saw me like
this... he'd make a fool out of me for the rest of my life."
 "―That's for sure." A hand slid around his back, and
patted him.
"Nezumi, let's go."
Yes. They would have to go. This wasn't the finish line
yet. They had to move forward. But, how? Was there a
way to escape this sealed space?
"Oh!" Nezumi scrambled up. A startled Tsukiyo dove
into Shion's shirt. "Why is that?"
"Why is what?"
"Why isn't anything happening? Weren't they supposed
to run an electric current as soon as the barriers were
down?"
"That's right." Shion also got up. He winced in pain,
likely from some wound. But his face soon smoothed into a
faint smile.
"It's been almost five minutes since the walls came
down completely. That's kind of a late observation for you,
isn't it?"
"The hell is that supposed to mean?" Nezumi replied
indignantly. Then, he closed his mouth. He glanced at
Shion's face, which was smeared with blood.
"Are you saying you knew, then? You knew beforehand
that nothing would happen?"
Shion shook his head.
"I didn't know. There was no way I would have known.
It's just that―"
 "Just that, what? We've come this far. Don't play
hard-to-get."
"Right. Well, you might laugh, but I feel like we're
being... invited in by someone."
"Invited in?"
Shion licked his lips, and continued in his Shion-like,
awkward manner.
"Actually, the barriers should have activated the
moment we burst into the hallway. But they didn't move.
They only started moving when we were surrounded by
the soldiers. Even though at that time, they would have
been temporarily paused. That doesn't make sense. That's
why they were so flustered."
"Wait a minute, I dunno what you're getting at. So are
you saying that the computer monitoring the security
system was buggy? That it conveniently stopped working
for us? ―Well, I dunno whether I'd call being trapped in
here convenient. But we were saved. We were rescued by
a coincidental computer malfunction― is that the deal?"
A No. 6 computer malfunctioning? No, there was no
way something like that would happen.
Shion shook his head again.
"It's not a coincidence. It was by will."
"Will? You're saying the computer had a will of its
own?"
A third refusal.
 "No. It could be operated a certain way based on one's
will, but the machine itself wouldn't have one."
"Shion, explain it to me so that I can understand.
What're you talking about? What do you mean by being
'invited in'?"
"I don't know," Shion said slowly. "I can't put it into
words very well. But that's the only way I can explain it.
Someone is calling us―"
"And that someone operated the computer and
rescued us of their own will. That's what you figure?"
"Yeah."
"And who's that someone? That girlfriend of yours?"
"Safu―could it be her? But..." Shion dragged his feet to
the wall. There was a part that was a different colour
than the rest. It was a shade lighter.
"That's the elevator, right?"
"Yeah. The only path that leads to the top floor."
Thirty metres to the right. Shion had meant to tell him
to run in this direction. There were no buttons to be found
on the wall that would operate it. There wasn't even a
single projecting part. It probably activated by a sensor
responding to a special ID chip.
"How do we get into this thing?"
Shion had turned his face back to stare at something.
Nezumi followed his gaze, and landed on Rashi's body.
 "He might have a special chip embedded in his body,"
Nezumi said hastily. He put into words what he figured had
been on Shion's mind. He didn't want to let Shion utter any
words related to that body. Shion glanced away, and held
his palm up to the sky.
"No― that won't do. This system will activate only if it
senses life. The chip is useless unless it's inside a living,
breathing human body. A corpse won't do."
I see. Nezumi muttered silently, and cast his eyes
down.
The madness that had driven Shion to nearly shatter
his own skull had already been wiped clean.
It has to sense life.
A corpse won't do.
How could he say those words so casually after such an
intense emotional disturbance?
Nezumi shifted his eyes to his feet. Maybe I haven't
just made him shoulder it. Maybe I've also hauled it
out―hauled out what was dormant in him until now.
Shion, what's lurking inside you? What do you really
look like, Shion, the you that I don't know?
A chill ran down his spine. The wounds on his shoulder
and thigh throbbed as if in answer. Until now, he had
completely forgotten about his gunshot wounds.
"Is there any other way?" he asked, short and to the
point.
 "I think someone will come fetch us," came the equally
short answer.
"Fetch us?"
He heard a faint mechanical noise. The elevator was
coming down. The door slid open almost soundlessly.
Two shadowy figures stood before them.
Nezumi tensed for a moment, then realized quickly
that it was a reflection of themselves. The entire wall in
front of them was a huge mirror.
"Nezumi―you're getting on, right?"
"You kidding me? Of course. I'm not stupid or rude
enough to turn down such a welcoming."
"Yeah. I figured."
He took one wide step into the elevator. Throb. His
wounds stirred again. He would probably not be able to
push himself much further, considering the amount of
blood he had lost. And, as Rashi had pointed out, he could
no longer use a knife with this hand.
No use mulling it over, though.
He could not predict what lay ahead of them after the
elevator stopped. He couldn't foresee the future, so there
was only one choice―to face the here and now.
He let his gaze wander. There was nothing of note
apart from the mirror. The walls were smooth with not a
speck of dirt to be seen. There were no buttons, switches,
or touch screens. It was a sterile, bright, inorganic space.
 The door was closing.
Right in front of them, he could see Rashi with his legs
thrown out and his head tilted to the side. He could see
the soles of the soldier's boots, the soldier who had called
his mother in his last moments.
Shion's fingers moved to chest-level.
Are they going to clasp together in prayer? Nezumi
thought.
But Shion's fingers only clenched into a hard fist.
That was it.
The door closed.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 5
A Treacherous Joy

A deep, inexpressible joy filled her heart, a

treacherous joy that she sought to hide at any
cost, one of those things of which one is ashamed,
although cherishing it in one's soul . . .
-Maupassant, "A Life"[1]

"Is Daddy home yet?" Lili sighed. "Did Mommy get to see
Daddy? Did she get to say 'welcome back' to him? It's
getting so dark. I wonder what happened? Yuna's daddy
and Ei's daddy are already home. They always come home
on the same bus. You know, sometimes me and Yuna and Ei
go and meet them there."
"I see. And Daddy's very happy, isn't he?"
"Yeah. Really. He picks me up, and kisses me on the
cheek. But it's kind of embarrassing. I don't need to get a
kiss from Daddy to be happy. I'm not a little girl, you know.
But Daddy still thinks I'm a little girl. That's why he kisses
me in front of all those people. It's kind of a problem."
Karan smiled at Lili's endearing attempt at sounding
like an adult. Lili sighed again. She cupped her chin in her
hands, and let out a long huff. It was an adult woman's
gesture―was she imitating her mother, perhaps? Usually,
Karan would burst out laughing and tease Lili, calling her a
right young little lady, but today she couldn't quite bring
herself to. Her heart felt heavy, as if Lili had transmitted
her melancholy to her. Smiling was the best she could do.
"Ma'am."
"Yes, dear?"
"Daddy'll come home, right?"
"Of course."
Karan stopped in the middle of wiping a tray, and
glanced at Lili. Lili's favourite cheese muffin lay
half-eaten on her little plate.
"Getsuyaku-san―your father―is probably very busy at
work. I bet he missed his usual bus. I'm sure he'll come
home on the next one."
 Karan gave a little sigh as well after finishing her
sentence. These words wouldn't even serve to make Lili
feel better. Lili didn't want to hear these banal words of
encouragement.
She felt frustrated and ashamed that she could not
even relieve a little girl's woes.
Lili's eyes, always so lively and full of joy, were now
clouded over.
Her father, who usually came home every day at the
same time on the minute, had not come home. She was
worried sick.
Karan couldn't bring herself to laugh it off as an
exaggerated concern. Lili had sensed something wrong
with Getsuyaku, and it was paining her heart. Renka―Lili's
mother and Getsuyaku's wife―had even gone to the bus
stop to pick him up despite her difficulty moving around.
There must have been something about Getsuyaku that
caused his wife and daughter to feel uncertain and
unsettled. It was not only Getsuyaku, either.
This uncertainty―an intangible uncertainty―had by
now covered all of this city of No. 6.
One could call it a looming threat.
Several dozen citizens had already suffered at the
hands of death―been sacrificed. Karan wasn't sure if
"sacrifice" was the appropriate term, but she thought the
eeriness and terror that the word invoked matched
perfectly well with the city's atmosphere; of that, she was
most certain. Karan herself was troubled, apart from her
thoughts about Shion, with an uncertainty that dug into
her heart.
Is this really happening?
People are dying left and right.
Without warning, they would collapse and cease to
breathe. Karan had yet to see it for herself, but she had
heard that the victims all lost their hair and teeth, were
covered in wrinkles, and died looking a hundred years
older. She had heard that even the most vibrant young
man or beautiful girl ended up in this grisly form. Without
exception.
Why? What's the cause?
A new virus? Poison gas? A plague?
Speculation was rampant, and yet, not one person
could give a definite cause. No one could spot a common
trait among all of the victims. Their ages, body types,
environments, workplaces and development histories
ranged widely, and barely overlapped.
Apart from the fact that they were exclusively No. 6
citizens.
One collapsed in the square in front of City Hall; one
in the street; one in his own kitchen. In all cases, the
victims were alone. There were no concentrated
outbreaks of casualties in one spot. They all occurred in
pinpoint locations. Many were safe who had seen the
victims die right beside them. Any acquaintance in
mid-conversation, any friend walking beside you, any
stranger walking past you, could become a casualty.
Shrieks and wailing voices burst into the air everywhere.
No one could predict who the next casualty was, or
when and where it would occur. That was fear itself. An
insurmountable fear.
My sister collapsed just now. She wasn't even thirty.
Now she's transformed into an elderly woman.
My neighbour just died. We were just having a normal
conversation. 'What's gonna happen now?' 'This is scary,
isn't it?', just stuff like that. Then she suddenly started to
double up in pain―
What's going on here?
This is a concern for everyone now.
Maybe tomorrow I'll be next... no, maybe even in a
minute...
I might be the next sacrifice.
What the hell is the mayor doing? Why doesn't he try
to deal with this?
Isn't he going to help us citizens?
Fear became discontent toward the politicians who
twiddled their thumbs in the face of the situation.
Discontent became criticism, which turned into a
simmering rage.
The mayor, through various media organizations,
called for calm amongst the citizens, and advised them to
take careful action. But even as the mayor's image flashed
across the display, another casualty fell right in front of it,
another among the dozens today. He would convulse again
and again, then age rapidly. It was impossible to remain
calm.
Give us medicine.
Tend to the wounded.
Give us the truth.
The cries of the citizens echoed loudly in every corner
of the streets. And on top of this situation, Lili's father
had not arrived home. Her mother had gone out, and not
returned.
The girl's tiny chest was probably full to bursting with
uncertainty. Perhaps she was desperately trying to keep
herself from crying.
Karan understood well the suffering and pain of being
concerned but unable to do anything about a family
member. She had experienced the frustration of only being
able to wait. It was a pain that had soaked deep into her
bones.
"Lili." She stroked the girl's soft hair. "Have the rest of
your muffin."
"Ma'am..."
"You love your father, right, Lili?"
Lili looked up at Karan, and gave a huge nod.
 "Yup. I looove him. I love Daddy lots and lots. I love
Mommy, and the baby in Mommy's stomach, too."
"Yes, and your father loves you too, very very much,
right? He kisses you on the cheek, and he says 'I love you,
Lili' while he does, right?"
"Yeah. Daddy always says 'I love you' to me."
"Then everything will be fine. Your father will come
straight home to you, Lili. You know, in the end, people
come home to the people they love most."
Lili blinked. "Is that true, ma'am?"
"Yes. It's true. True as can be."
Lili's mouth relaxed. A smile spread across her face.
She picked her muffin up, and took a bite.
"It's delicious."
"There are still more left. Three, to be exact. One for
your mother, your father, and for you, Lili. You can take
them home, if you like."
"Thank you, ma'am."
After finishing her muffin, Lili put her hands together
and gave a loud thanks for her meal.
"Ma'am."
"Yes, dear?"
"I love you, too."
"My, Lili, that's wonderful. Thank you."
 "And Shion too... but not as much as Daddy, or
Mommy, or you, ma'am."
"Hm?"
"Shion will come home too, right?"
"Lili..."
"People come home to people they love the best,
right? So Shion has to come home to your place, ma'am.
Right? He'll come home, right?"
Lili seated herself deep in her chair, and dangled her
feet over the edge.
"When I got hurt once, Shion made it all better."
"Oh? He did?"
"Yeah. I was playing tag with Ei, and I fell down. I fell,
and then Ei came and fell down on top of me, like ―
crash! ― and it really hurt. Ei''s kind of fat. But she's really
fast at running, you know. And she's good at drawing
pictures. I like drawing pictures, too. We draw pictures
together a lot."
"You're good friends, then?"
"Yeah. Really good friends. But we fight sometimes,
too. Sometimes we have fights that are so big, I think
we're never gonna play again for the rest of our lives."
"But if you can fight and make up again, that means
you're truly good friends. So you fell down, right, Lili? And
Shion made it better?"
 "Yeah. My leg was bleeding really bad. And it hurt a
lot. I cried lots, and Ei was crying, too. But then Shion
passed by, and he picked me up and took me to a tap and
washed off the blood, and... oh, and then he put some
medicine on it. He said, 'it's stopped bleeding, so you can
stop crying now.' And then he patted my head. He wiped
Ei's face for her, too."
"And... when was this?"
Lili stopped swinging her feet, tilted her head a little,
and looked at Karan.
"Lemme see, ummm... a little before Shion went
away. When he was still going to work at the park. You
know, ma'am, Shion is really nice. Mommy said so, too.
She said he's really kind, and handsome, and such a great
person. She said, 'When Shion comes home, you should ask
if you could be his bride'."
"Oh, Lili, you as Shion's bride? That's some happy
news."
"But it's just that, well, Ei..."
"What about Ei?"
"Umm, she says she's in 'love at first sight' for Shion. I
asked her, 'What's love at first sight mean?' and Ei said, 'It
means you get married, of course'. But if Ei and Shion get
married, then I can't be his bride. Mommy said I can't lose
to Ei, but it's really hard."
 "Oh, my." Karan laughed out loud. For even just a
moment, she was able to forget the uncertainty and
melancholy forming a malignant lump in her heart.
As far as Karan could remember, Lili had not
mentioned Shion's name at all since the day he had
vanished from Karan's sight. Lili had probably sensed that
reflecting on memories of Shion would cause suffering for
Karan. Or perhaps she had been warned by Renka.
'Lili, from now on, I don't want you to talk about Shion
in front of Karan.'
'Why not?'
'Because she'll be sad.'
'Mommy, did Shion do something really bad? Is that
why he got caught and taken away? Everyone says so.'
'What do you think?'
'Me? I think... Shion wouldn't do anything bad. He's so
nice. He would never do anything like that. Ever.'
'And you're right. See, you do know. I'm impressed with
you, Lili. Whatever happened must have been some kind
of mistake. Shion is such a wonderful boy. You wouldn't
find anyone nicer. He's kind, handsome, and just such a
great person. I know, Lili, when Shion comes back, why
don't you ask if you can be his bride? Don't lose against Ei.'
Perhaps mother and daughter had had that kind of
conversation, and grinned at each other.
Karan had been surrounded by caring people all along.
 Through days of frantic frustration and anguish, she
had always thought she was fighting alone. But it was not
so. People around her, people right by her side, had been
quietly expressing their concern all along.
All this time I was being supported by such a little
girl. And―

And by Nezumi's letter.

There were many pillars. The hearts of others held her
aloft.
"Lili, thank you." Karan gently embraced the young
girl.
The emergency buzzer went off.
A part of the wall turned into a screen, and the face
of a young woman appeared. She was a newscaster
directly affiliated with the Information Bureau.
"This is an urgent broadcast. As of this moment, the
authorities have announced a state of emergency. Citizens
are advised to return home immediately. All subsequent
outings of any kind by citizens will hereby be prohibited.
There are no exceptions. If you do not comply, you will be
arrested and taken into custody. I repeat. We are entering
a state of emergency. Citizens are advised to..."
 The newscaster had been reading rapidly through her
papers, her eyes cast down, when suddenly she snapped
them open wide. She stood up, and clawed at her throat.
"Help me! No!!" Her shriek rang out.
Karan reflexively put her arms around Lili.
"Ma'am, what's happening to her?"
"No! Don't look!"
The caster's flaxen hair turned white before their
eyes. Dark spots appeared on her cheeks, and spread
rapidly.
"Help... me..." Her fingers curled as if trying to grasp
something in the air, and she collapsed behind the desk.
The broadcast cut off abruptly after that.
A state of emergency―it was nothing so tame.
This was an abnormality. A situation far beyond the
bounds of common understanding. It was twisting and
rearing before them.
She felt faint.
No, it's not me. No. 6―this city―is the one that's
creaking from the stress. It's shrieking, just like that
newscaster.
Confusion. Disaster. Danger. Suffering. And, fear.
Plagues that should have never existed within No. 6 were
sprouting furiously.
She heard laughter.
 Somewhere far, somewhere far in the distance, she
could hear laughter.
Who? Who's laughing? Whose voice is it?
Brittle, dead leaves fluttered past her window.
One, two, three...
A wind was blowing. A strong southern wind was
blowing against her. It usually unravelled the rigid cold of
winter, and brought with it the premonition of spring. The
southern wind which usually made her heart feel so lively
was carrying that voice to her ears.
"Ma'am, I'm scared." Lili clung to her. "Someone's
laughing in the sky."
"Lili, you can... hear it too?"
"I don't know. I don't know, but I'm scared."
Lili began to cry. "I'm scared!" she sobbed.
"It's alright," Karan soothed. "It's alright, Lili. I'll
protect you. So don't be afraid."
You supported me all this time. You cared for me, you
were concerned for me. So this time, it's my turn to
support you. I won't let people snatch you away, so easily
like they did Shion and Safu. I'll protect you, you just
watch.
Karan bit her lip, embraced Lili still more tightly, and
turned to face the wind that blew outside her window.
 I will protect you to the end.

***

How could this be happening?

The man was confused. The cause was beyond his
grasp. This was the first time something like this had
occurred.
"Why have you let this happen?" he yelled, Fennec, the
mayor of No. 6."Why have they begun to act on their own?
I thought you said you were able to control them
perfectly."
What noise, the other man thought. What a noisy lout.
He had always thought of the other man as a cowardly,
yapping dog who knew how to do nothing else. The years
evidently had not changed his character.
"Soon, it will awaken. Then, everything will settle
down."
"Really? You are telling the truth?"
"Really, Fennec. These are only small precursors to the
main event. Miniscule disturbances."
"Miniscule disturbances―this, you say? The city is in a
panic, for goodness' sake."
"Then, announce a state of emergency."
 "I've announced it ," the mayor said shortly. "But if we
have any more deaths, the Security Bureau alone won't be
enough to suppress the chaos among the citizens."
"Mobilize the army."
The mayor froze.
"The army?"
"Yes. Even if there is a possibility of a riot, there
would be no problem with the army there. No cause for
concern at all."
"You're telling me to point weapons at my own
citizens? These citizens of No. 6?"
"That's what an army is there for. To neutralize
anything that rebels against No. 6, whether it be from the
inside or the outside."
"But―"
"Fennec," the man interrupted. "You are the one to
make the decision. You are the King, after all. It's not
something I can intrude into. But do not forget. You are
the sole person who dominates everything on this land.
Rebelling against you is the same as betraying No. 6."
The mayor remained silent for a while, and then gave
a resolute nod.
"You're right, in fact. Every word."
"It may have been out of place for me to say this―"
"No, I don't mind. I forgive you."
 Forgive? Forgive me? The man sneered inwardly.
"I will order the army to mobilize into battle formation
and await further instructions."
"That would be best. It is a grand opportunity to show
your foolish people the extent of your power."
The mayor swept out of the room, his gait stormy. He
seemed to be in a temper.
The man sneered inwardly again, and closed his eyes.
Soon, it will awaken. And when it does―

Getsuyaku shut off the water flow.

Today, he was going to finish up work early so he could
go home.
At the end of every shift, he took a shower and drank
a cold glass of water. It seemed almost too mundane to
call it his high point of the day, but he nevertheless
couldn't deny that taking a shower put him into a good
mood.
Well, that's all the work that needs to be done today.
I can go home now.
A smile tugged at his lips every time the thought
crossed his mind. He could see the smiles of his wife and
daughter right before his eyes. His daughter was not of his
blood; his wife had brought her from a previous
relationship. There were times when he felt troubled at
whether they could still become father and daughter, even
though they weren't related. Now, he found it funny that
he had even bothered to worry. Blood relations didn't
matter. It had nothing to do with how one felt love. He
cared for his daughter so strongly, he could most certainly
say so.
Small and lovable Lili.
Every time he kissed her on the cheek, she would
smile sheepishly. In a year, she might even be rejecting
him with a cool "Daddy, don't." But her gradual blossoming
into adulthood made her endearing all the more. If I
could, I wish she would let me kiss her forever―but that's
probably not going to happen. But what about today? I
wonder if she's come to pick me up at the bus stop. If she
has, I would be so happy. Lili would come dashing up as
soon as I get off the bus. She'd say, 'Welcome home,
Daddy,' and she'd give me a hug. I would pick her up, and
give her a kiss on the cheek.
It was his moment of complete bliss.
And he could experience this because Lili, his
daughter, was there for him. His second daughter, too, was
almost on her way. He had been told at the hospital
sometime before that the baby was going to be a girl. My
second daughter, and Lili's little sister. One more member
in the family.
Getsuyaku changed out of his clothes, and smoothed
his hair with a hasty hand.
 He had only to think about his wife and daughter. He
would not allow his thoughts to wander and dwell on what
he did today, or anything of that sort.
Nothing happened today. I didn't do anything. I don't
know anything.
And that's exactly how it's going to be.
Tomorrow, Inukashi would give him the rest of his
payment. He knew Inukashi wasn't lying. He was wily,
thorough, and miserly, but he kept his promises. In that
sense, Inukashi was someone he could trust. If he hadn't
been such a person, there was no way Getsuyaku would
have co-operated in smuggling, even if it was just garbage
or leftover food.
The payment this time around, however, was off the
charts compared to the usual.
Getsuyaku counted on his fingers, curling each one,
starting from his thumb.
Gold... three gold coins. It's quite a payment. Add
that to the previous one, and that makes six gold coins.
This is enough money to let me live like I'm on vacation
for a good while. Of course, that's not what I'm going to
spend it on. I'm going to keep it for Lili, and for the baby
that's on its way. Renka would be happy for me. But―last
time I handed her the gold, she looked more worried than
happy. She went pale, and asked me, 'Where on earth did
you get all this money?'. I managed to scrape together an
excuse, but that was a close call. I made Renka worry
more than she should. This time, I have to make it good. I
have to come up with an excuse that'll satisfy her. Maybe
something about special compensation. I hope I can pull
off the lie.
Six gold coins. A payment off the charts.
After curling all his fingers in, he slowly raised his
pinky.
I want to buy Lili some spring clothes. And Renka,
too. Renka is so beautiful, but since we don't have the
means to be fashionable, she always dresses frugally, and
it makes her look older. She would look so stunning in a
brightly-coloured dress, in pink, or blue. And Karan-san.
She takes care of Lili all the time. And she's so good to
her... I have to give her something to thank her. Hmm,
what should I get?
His dreary mood began to clear. He felt excited. He
could see himself shopping with Lili, taking her by the
hand. He could see Lili turn around to grin at him. Renka
was also smiling.
Oh, I couldn't be happier.
He felt it from the bottom of his heart.
He drained his glass of water.
Alright, let's go home.
The emergency alarm went off. The lamp flashed.
"What?"
His heart contracted. He could feel the blood receding
from his face.
 The door connected to the Correctional Facility was
beginning to open. Getsuyaku had passed through the
same door only moments before, entered the Correctional
Facility, done his cleaning duties, and returned to this
small room. He had resolved to finish work early that day,
and had taken a shower. He had drank a glass of water.
That was it. That was it.
He shrank bank.
That's all I've done. I only did my job, did it properly,
as usual, and tried to go home.
'Make a good getaway.'
Hadn't a young man who passed him on the stairs said
that? Getsuyaku was almost certain. The youth had a
certain severity to him despite his age, and yet could
manage to smile in a very alluring way. Make a good
getaway. Was that a warning? Should he have obeyed
those words and made his escape as swiftly as he could?
But he had been afraid of being in a panic. He had been
afraid that he would draw suspicion. If I run, that's like
admitting I did something wrong. I didn't want people to
be suspicious. I still have to come in tomorrow, and the
next day. Once they're suspicious of me... I―I don't want
to lose my job. I was still planning on coming into work
tomorrow. That's why I ignored him. I foolishly pretended
that I didn't hear.

Make a good getaway.

 Oh―how wrong I was. I should have listened to that
man. I should have escaped.
The door opened.
I should have escaped.
Two Security Bureau officials stood there, guns aimed
and ready to fire.
"Getsuyaku, is it?"
His legs were shaking. His hands were shaking. His
whole body was shaking.
No, don't shake. I'll draw even more suspicion.
Pretend you don't know. Pretend you don't know, and―you
haven't done anything.
"Answer me."
"―Yes, it is."
"We are escorting you. You are to obey."
"E-Escorting me... where?"
There was no answer. The two muscular Bureau
officials, alike in height and shoulder width, remained
silent with their guns pointed at Getsuyaku.
Nothing spoke louder than their lack of words.
Destruction was approaching. Getsuyaku understood
that he was in no position to escape. But he couldn't
relent.
No. No.
 "Wh―why am I... what are you saying I've done...?"
This time, there was a response.
"You exhibited suspicious behaviour. At the
Mannequin."
"S-Suspicious behaviour? That must be some kind of
mistake," Getsuyaku stammered. "I... I was just
cleaning―it was the robot's fault. I was summoned
because the floor was dirty, and―and so to clean it up, I―"
"You were responsible for the maintenance of the
robot, were you not?"
The muzzle of the gun moved up and down as if to cut
off Getsuyaku's desperate words.
"And you performed it a whole week earlier than was
planned."
"That was because―um, they didn't seem to be in very
great shape, and... it happens often, actually, and..."
The officials said nothing more. Their lips were
sealed, and no emotion could be read from their eyes. The
two looked like robots themselves.
Only destruction awaited Getsuyaku if he let himself
be escorted by these robots. An inescapable destruction.
No. No. No.
I'm going to go home. I'm going to return to Lili and
Renka.
 He threw down the glass in his hand, and dashed
outside.
I have to run. I have to run. I have to get away.
If I run straight down this road, and get through the
gate, I'll be in Lost Town. Once I get on the bus, I'll arrive
at the usual bus stop in ten minutes. Lili would probably
be there to pick me up.
"Welcome home, Daddy."
"Feels good to be back, Lili."
"Mommy's waiting. Today, we're having your favourite
― stew. We have bread that Auntie Karan baked, too."
"That sounds terrific. I'm starting to get hungry
already. Oh yeah, Lili, Daddy's going to buy you some
brand new clothes soon."
"Really?"
"Really. Let's go shopping on my next break, okay?"
"Yay! Thanks, Daddy."
"Ha ha ha. Alright, let's go home. Mommy's waiting,
right?"
A white-hot impact hit him in the chest.
Blood and bits of flesh splattered before his eyes.
What is it?
The world teetered off-balance. Darkness closed in on
his vision.
 No, no, no. I'm supposed to go home. I'm gonna go
home. I'm gonna...
"Daddy, welcome home."
"It feels great to be back, Lili."
Getsuyaku crumpled as he was shot through the chest.
Inukashi averted his eyes, and clenched his hand into a
fist.
What the hell.
"Hey, that guy just got taken down," growled Rikiga.
They were crouched behind some shrubs that dotted
the surrounding area of the Correctional Facility. The
Cleaning Management Room right before their eyes was
the only department that connected the Correctional
Facility directly with the West Block without a set of gates
to pass through. The door that led into the Facility could
only be accessed from the inside, however, so it was not
possible to access the Facility from the side of the
Cleaning Management Room. The doors were said to be
made of a special alloy that even a small missile wouldn't
be able to damage. Infiltration was impossible as long as
these doors were closed. In that sense, Getsuyaku's
workplace was more similar to the West Block, insofar as
it was completely cut off from No. 6.
For Inukashi, it was no problem if they were cut off.
The Facility was one place he didn't want to step into if he
could help it. He had no interest in it whatsoever, and he
would have liked it to stay that way for the rest of his life.
 He was more drawn to the grade and quantity of
leftover food and clothing that Getsuyaku picked out from
the waste collection depot adjacent to the Cleaning
Management Room. These were more important to him
than the Facility itself.
He and Getsuyaku had known each other for a while
now. It had probably been at least three years. They were
not particularly close or friendly with each other. They
had just used each other as business partners.
Getsuyaku was straight-laced and cowardly, with a
decent smattering of both good morals and greed. A
typical man you'd find anywhere. He was just one of
countless many that one could find.
But he did care about his family. Inukashi remembered
him saying many times that he valued them more than
anything else in the world. He had looked truly happy as
he smiled and talked about his little daughter, who was on
her way. Inukashi had once asked him, 'Isn't it a pain in the
ass to take care of another human? You can't take care of
'em like dogs.' Getsuyaku had lapsed into silence, his
mouth half-open. He had looked astonished. Inukashi
remembered the look of pity that then crossed
Getsuyaku's face as he closed his mouth.
At that time, he had not understood the reason behind
Getsuyaku's expression. Now, Inukashi felt like he had a
better idea. It was thanks to Shionn―no, it was all his
fault.
 Inukashi felt like he could understand a little―just a
tiny little―of the kind of love Getsuyaku felt for another
tiny soul. And for the family that awaited its father, its
husband, Getsuyaku was definitely not one of countless
many. He was the one and only irreplaceable existence.
Inukashi understood that too.
"I see. So they won't stop at West Block residents.
They'll even kill their own people, too, huh," Rikiga said,
wiping the sweat from his brow. His body was tense
despite his airy tone.
"He lived in Lost Town," Inukashi said. "He was
probably practically―trash for those people." Inukashi put
up a front of unruffled calm, but he was also nervous and
tense. The nape of his neck was so taut, it was painful.
To think they'd actually kill him.
He hadn't even dreamed that they would kill
Getsuyaku. He had, however, expected the man to blow
his cover. There were plenty of possible instances when
Getsuyaku might slip up and give something away. In a
worst-case scenario, he would have been taken into
custody and imprisoned.
But if the Correctional Facility itself would eventually
collapse, as Nezumi said, then it was only a matter of
time before Getsuyaku could get free. They would take
advantage of the confusion and rescue him from his cell.
"God, the amount of trouble I had to go through
because I fell for your smooth talk. That teaches you not
to take a dogkeeper's word seriously. Damnit, I fell right
into your trap."
Inukashi wouldn't mind bearing with a complaint or
two from the man. In fact, he wouldn't even mind bowing
his head and apologizing. Then, he would humbly and
graciously hand over the promised gold. Three coins, plus
another, "for your trouble," he would say. That was sure to
restore Getsuyaku's spirits.
The demolition of the Correctional Facility meant the
end of his business with Getsuyaku.
Thanks for all the years of business.
No problem. And I think I've had enough risky jobs to
last me a lifetime.
They'd shake hands, perhaps, and then part ways. In
Inukashi's mind, that had been his ideal way to say
good-bye. But Getsuyaku lay face down on the arid ground
without a single twitch. Only the wind blew over his body.
To think he'd get killed.
To think he'd get killed so easily, so unceremoniously.
Gestuyaku is a citizen. He's someone who lived inside the
walls. He may have been in the dregs of No. 6, but he was
still registered as a proper citizen. He's different from us.
They wouldn't murder him pitilessly. They wouldn't dare.
He had believed so wrongly all this time.
I was hopelessly naive. I knew in my head how cold,
how brutal No. 6 could be towards people who betrayed
it, refused to obey it, struggled against it... I thought I
knew, but I didn't know anything. I was naive. I should
have told him to get his ass out of there as soon as he
pressed the button. Tell him to get out, and...
He felt like someone had grabbed his hair and yanked
it up. His scalp hurt from how taut it was. A scream
threatened to come up through his throat.
I remember now. It said so in Nezumi's letter.

Order any collaborators to escape immediately.

He remembered clearly that single line. Nezumi had

predicted this ruthlessness, this brutality. But I overlooked
it. I was too caught up in trying to lure Getsuyaku in to
devote any thought to the safety of the people I'd be
getting help from. It hadn't even crossed my mind until
now. Until now, when it was too late.
I was careless. A careless, fucking naive moron.
He chewed his lip.
But regretting it now wouldn't undo what he had done.
"Terrible." Rikiga wiped the sweat off his brow again.
Two men who looked like Security Bureau officials
were stepping on Getsuyaku's body with the tips of their
boots. They were looking at each other and nodding. They
each took ahold of one of Getsuyaku's legs and began to
drag the body along. The blood flowing from the corpse
left red streaks on the dry ground.
"Are they really human?" Rikiga's voice turned raspy.
The dogs growled lowly beside Inukashi.
You're sure right about that. These dogs are a hundred
times more decent. They've got hearts worth a hundred of
those men.
Inukashi gave a quick snap of his fingers. The dogs all
sprang to their feet at once. Rikiga blinked.
"Hey, wait. What're you planning to do?"
"Make them tear those guys' throats apart, obviously.
I'm gonna avenge Getsuyaku."
"Are you stupid?" Rikiga said in disbelief. "Even your
dogs couldn't stand a chance against armed Security
Bureau guys. If they find out where we're hiding, we'll be
shot to death, too. Do you think people who can shoot up
their own citizens are going to cut us any slack?"
"But if I don't―"
"If he was alive, you could still flail around and do
your thing. But he's dead. He's gone completely. He's not
going to feel anything. He doesn't feel any anger or
suffering now. He's as good as that piece of dirt. Tell me,
should we throw our lives away for a piece of dirt? I don't
know about you, but I'm definitely excusing myself from
this one."
Rikiga's bloodshot eyes hardened.
 "We can't die yet. We still have an important job to
do: save Shion. We can't do it if we end up as ghosts.
That's the most important thing, and don't you forget that,
Inukashi."
"―Fine."
What Rikiga was saying was true. They still had a job
to do. And it was a job that couldn't be done if they
weren't alive.
He snapped his fingers again, this time more slowly.
The dogs lay back down on the ground. Rikiga exhaled a
long breath.
"Really, I wish you wouldn't act on every emotional
whim. This is why you can't trust young people."
"Old man."
"What?"
"So you do say some decent things, once every ten
years or so, anyway. You weren't just a dead weight after
all. I see you in a new light now."
"Say what you will."
"And while I'm saying what I will, lemme remind you
that we're splitting the gold even. Don't you forget that."
"I know, I know. Even half of the treasure is enough for
me to live a freewheeling life. But if that guy's gotten
himself killed, how are we going to get into the Cleaning
Management Room?"
 "I have the key." Inukashi held a magnetic card key
between his fingers and thrust it under Rikiga's nose.
"You had a key?"
"Yeah, a spare. In all of the Correctional Facility, the
Cleaning Management Room is the only one that still uses
a simple magnetic card key. There aren't any signsof-life
sensors, security systems, object sensors, or surveillance
cameras in there. It's a paradise if you wanna hide out."
"Well, I guess they wouldn't have a reason to spend
money to watch a place that only collects garbage. So you
nicked that key from the poor guy's pockets, huh?"
"Not his pockets. I took it out of Getsuyaku's small
desk, where he eats his lunch. I borrowed it from his
drawer."
It was an old, worn desk that looked like it'd been
picked out of the garbage. Getsuyaku used to eat his
lunch there by himself. Once, I remember him giving me
this small, sweet pastry called a muffin. It was delicious.
I thought my tongue was gonna melt, it was so happy. He
said he'd bought it from a local bakery.
"I guess you don't have to return it to him now," Rikiga
muttered, with an unusually heavy tone.
"You're right. I don't have to give it back. So instead,
I'm gonna make as much use of it as I can."
When I see the Correctional Facility crumble, I'll
dedicate the scene to you, Getsuyaku. I'll make sure to
dedicate something that's worth the blood you spilled. I
know it probably won't be enough to make up for my
carelessness, but it'll be the best sending-off to heaven
that I'll be able to give you.
Inukashi pressed a hand to his chest. Nezumi's letter
was there under his clothes.
This time, I won't mess up. I won't overlook anything. I
won't let my guard down.
Their lives are depending on it―Shion and Nezumi's
lives. I can't fail them again.

Cheep-cheep-cheep.

He hadn't noticed the two mice sitting at his feet.

They scurried up his arm and onto his shoulder. Hamlet
and Cravat. I think those were their names. Two small
animals with intellect and their own will.
"You're here," he said to them. "Well, old man, it looks
like all the supporting actors are here."
"Indeed. Now, all we have to do is get the stage
perfectly ready, and then wait for the main actors to make
their entrance."
"Yup. The actors of the century. We need a flashy
fanfare to welcome them."
A one-act play, but a massive one nonetheless.
 Hope or despair? Success or failure? Heaven or Hell?
Life, or death? The curtains had already risen for this
stage without a script.
It's our turn now. We're waiting for ya, Nezumi.
Cheep-cheep, cheep cheep cheep.
Perched on Inukashi's shoulder, the two mice raised
their heads and squeaked together, as if to call out to
someone.

"It's stopped."
Nezumi tilted his head slightly in perplexity at Shion's
words.
"What're you talking about? It hasn't stopped yet."
The elevator was still ascending. It continued to glide
smoothly up. Shion lightly placed his finger on the edge of
his eye.
"No, the tears. Look, they've stopped."
Nezumi's cheeks suddenly emitted a furious glow.
"Idiot. This isn't the time to be making lame
observations. If you have time to be making fun of me,
concentrate on the damn door. Once it opens, we don't
know what's gonna hit us."
"I wasn't making fun of you. I just saw that they
stopped―"
"Shut up. Just―shut up."
 Nezumi turned obstinately aside. His gesture was that
of a sullen child.
Shion found it humorous.
Cool, ironic, stronger and more beautiful than anyone
else―that was the kind of person Nezumi had always been,
and that never changed. But behind it all, even he had a
childish, emotional side like this. He still had some
immaturity left in him to feel agitated when he was
unable to control his emotions.
Shion had seen Nezumi's tears for the first time. When
he saw the boy choking on the unbearable tumult of his
emotions, there was only one emotion that welled up
inside Shion, and it was love. It was neither friendship nor
adoration. Neither romance nor awe. Just love.
He felt an uncontrollable pull of love for the boy's
vulnerable tears. He wanted to protect him with his life.
The howling wind and the sound of rain echoed in his
ears.
It was the sound of that storm. The emotions he had
felt on that stormy night when he met Nezumi were
revived in himself. And like he had been so many years
ago, he had been stirred to action by these feelings.
I want to protect him with my life.
Of course, this was only Shion's self-absorbed and
one-sided sentiment. Nezumi wasn't fragile to the point of
needing Shion's protection. He would learn this the hard
way, much later. Shion had been the one being protected.
It had always been this way.
The sounds of the storm showed no signs of dying
down. It still roared vividly.
Shion thought of the boy who had appeared before
him that night, his shoulder drenched with blood much
like he was now, except the boy had been so slender and
delicate then. He was so small, and wounded so badly that
he could barely remain standing. But despite that, his eyes
had glowed brilliantly, full of life, and carried no shadow
at all. The boy had neither clung to him, nor begged for
his help. On the contrary, he had coolly scrutinized Shion.
What kind of person are you?
Even now, the question still remained sitting before
Shion's eyes. He had not given an answer yet.
What kind of person am I?
My reason, my passion, my folly, my greed, my
justice―what shape do they take?
He spread his fingers. There was blood caked on them.
Was it his own, or that man's? His palm and five fingers,
dirtied in muddy red.
Could I stand and look my own self in the eye?
"I look horrible," Nezumi sighed. He glanced in the
mirror, and furrowed his brow in discontent. "My hair is a
mess, my face is dirty―it doesn't get worse than this. Even
the witches from Macbeth wouldn't want to come near
me. I can imagine the look of horror on my manager's face
if he were to see me like this."
"You look good enough to me."
"Shion, you don't have to try to make me feel better.
Geez, look at me, my beautiful face is ruined."
"I didn't realize you were so narcissistic."
"I just have an accurate idea of myself. What's
beautiful is beautiful. Unsightly things are unsightly."
"Are you just talking about looks?"
Or are you talking about how people are deep down,
too? Can your gaze penetrate even the beauty and
ugliness that lies within them?
My reason, my passion, my folly...
Nezumi recited a segment from Macbeth, the witches'
line.
"Fair is foul, and foul is fair. Hover through the fog and
filthy air."[1]
The elevator stopped. Shion stared at the door.
He was being called―he felt strongly that Safu was
calling him.
Shion.
The doors glided open noiselessly.
"Don't go running out just yet. Take your precautions."
Nezumi's arm held Shion back as he exited first. He was
dragging his foot, though only slightly. His bleeding had
stopped, but it was probably quite a serious wound. If he
moved too much, it would probably begin to bleed again.
Both Nezumi and Shion were nearing their physical limit.
Shion.
Safu. Are you alright? Would I get to see you? I've
come to get you so we can escape together. Lead us on.
Shion...
A hallway stretched before them, black and glossy.
The side where the elevator was located was just a plain
wall. On the opposite side, there were three
evenly-spaced doors. It was deserted. The elevator closed
silently behind Shion.
"Which door is it?" Nezumi turned around to ask.
"Right, left, or middle? Maybe they've got tigers or wolves
ready to spring at us if we open the wrong one."
"No―it's none of these."
Shion walked straight down the hallway. It was neither
right, left, nor middle.
Suddenly, one of the doors opened, and a woman clad
in a lab coat appeared.
"What―" Her electronic tablet slid from her hand.
"You―how did you outsiders get in―?"
They continued past the woman as she stood in
stunned silence.
"Wait―where are you―"
 "M'lady." Nezumi picked the tablet up, and placed it
back in the woman's hand. "I'm terribly sorry for startling
you. We're not suspicious people―okay, maybe we are―but
you don't need to worry. We have no intentions of harming
you. So hush now, please."
Shion stopped where the hall reached a dead end.
Safu.
The wall split smoothly in two.
The woman screamed. "How―how did that door open?"
Nezumi whistled. "It's like the caves you see in the
Arabian Nights. Shion, what kind of incantation did you
use?"
"No―how could it―" The woman squatted to the
ground. She was fainting from shock from the looks of it,
for her face was whiter than paper.
There was another door beyond: a crimson door.
"Garish." Nezumi clicked his tongue, and drew up
beside Shion. "Will it open?"
"Probably." Shion placed a hand on the door. Nezumi
trembled. He closed his eyes, and pursed his lips.
"Nezumi―what's wrong?"
"I heard... a voice."
"You can hear Safu's voice, too?"
"No. This... isn't a human voice. This... whose voice is
this?"
 "What's it saying?"
"...Finally, you are here." Nezumi made a fist over his
chest. He let out a long breath. "Finally, you are here. I
have been waiting for you."
Finally, you are here. I have been waiting for you.

I've been called here by Safu. Who's calling you? Who's

waiting for you beyond this door?
Shion felt a vibration against his palm. The crimson
door opened.
"Gh..." Both Shion and Nezumi made a strangled noise.
Their voices stuck in their throats.
"What―"
There were several transparent pillars filled with clear
liquid. These columns, thick enough for a small child to
barely get his arms around, stood in a neat line.
"Brains." Nezumi swallowed hard.
Brains.
In each column floated a brain. Several clear tubes
connected the brain to the lower part of the column.
These tubes glowed bluish-white from time to time.
It was a bizarre scene. Shion hadn't imagined in the
faintest that he would see something like this. He couldn't
have imagined it.
 The crimson door closed. Just before it shut
completely, he thought he heard the sound of the wind.
Was it an auditory hallucination? It probably was. But what
he was seeing now with his own eyes was no illusion. It
was reality. This scene was concrete. It existed.
His legs quaked. His heart quailed.
Nezumi's hand slid under his arm.
Oh, here I am again, being supported by you.
They proceeded slowly through the columns.
How far do we go? Is there an end?
"Shion." He heard himself being called. He looked up.
Safu stood there. She was wearing that sweater.
The black sweater which had been hand-knitted by her
grandmother. There were dark pink stripes on the mouths
of the sleeves and across the chest.
"Safu!"
There she was.
He could hear the wind.
Shion stretched his hands straight out before him.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
You don't feel it?
Feel? Feel what?
Something off.
CHAPTER 1
Ring the alarum bell!

I gin to be aweary of the sun,

And wish the estate o' the world were now
undone.
Ring the alarum bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back. [1]
- Macbeth, Act V Scene V

I love you, Shion. I love you more than anyone else.

Brains floated in the middle of the transparent

columns.
Human brains.
How many? Ten, twenty, thirty... perhaps more than
fifty. There seemed to be a light source at the base of the
column, for the entirety of it emitted a soft, white glow.
A scene he had never seen before. It was orderly,
inorganic, and sterile. Not a single stain marred the
smooth floor. The chamber was odourless and almost
soundless. But that in itself was terrifying. Shion felt that
this scene was more terrifying than any he had seen until
now. He couldn't hear the tearful cries, the screams, or
groans. There were no corpses, no flowing blood, no faces
distorted in agony. But this scene here was so much more
wicked than the picture of hell in the basement that he
had witnessed and burned into his memory.
Safu stood right inside this terrifying and wicked
scene.
"Safu―"
Shion staggered as he tried to break into a run, and
fell to his knees. He had no strength in his legs. His heart
pounded rapidly. His wounded, bleeding, and exhausted
body was crying out for mercy.
I can't go any further than this.
He looked up. A stream of sweat travelled down his
cheek and moistened his mouth.
Safu still stood silently, gazing at Shion. She hadn't
changed at all. Nothing about her had changed: the length
of her hair, her stature, her unwavering gaze.
Lost Town, No. 6. They had made a hurried parting at
the station. The Safu he had seen then was standing in
front of him now.
She didn't look worn out. She didn't look wounded.
"Safu... you're safe." You're safe. You managed to stay
safe. You managed to live. We were able to see each
other again, alive.
I love you, Shion. I love you more than anyone else.
Her confession had reached him through his ID card. A
cutting-edge communication device had mediated these
flesh-and-blood feelings.
 Her voice was coming back to him.
"Shion, you came." Safu's voice. A little low for a girl's,
yet always crisp and taut. He missed it.
It moved his heart. It squeezed his chest.
Oh, how I've missed it.
Safu, we've been separated by a pretty long distance,
haven't we? I feel like we haven't seen each other for a
century.
"I knew. I believed you would come..." Safu smiled.
Then her face crumpled into an expression both happy and
tearful. "I was waiting all this time. Waiting was all I could
do. I could only wait for you here..."
"Mm-hmm."
Shion raised the upper half of his body, and took a
deep breath.
"I knew I had to come sooner... I'm sorry, Safu."
Safu shook her head, and cocked her head to one side.
She blinked, and a faint agitation crossed her eyes.
"Shion, your hair..."
"Huh? Oh, this hair. Well, a lot of things happened,
and... I'll take my time and tell you everything later." I'll
tell you everything about what I experienced while we
were separated. There are so many things I want you to
hear, to listen to. One evening wouldn't be nearly enough
to cover everything.
 "You must have gone through so many hardships...
more difficult than I can imagine. I'm sure that getting
here wasn't the average stroll in the park, was it? But you
still came. For me... that's more than enough. Thank you,
Shion. Thank you so much."
"Like her dying words or something," Nezumi muttered
from his spot beside Shion. It wasn't a cold voice. But it
was flat and emotionless.
Safu's eyes moved slowly in response to the mutter,
and fell on Nezumi.
"You must be Nezumi..."
"Yeah."
"Nice to meet you. I've always wanted to take a look
at you. I wanted to know what kind of person you were."
"Here I am. Usually, I look better. This isn't the state
I'd like a lady to see me in, but unfortunately I didn't have
the time to wash my face or change into my good suit. Do
forgive me." Nezumi also had his gaze fixed on Safu. He
stared at her without blinking.
"Safu, I have something I want to ask you."
"...Alright."
"Are you the one who controlled the main computer to
lead us here?"
There was no answer from Safu. A moment's silence
passed. Shion looked up at Nezumi, still on his knees.
 Safu, control this Facility's computer? There's no way
she could have.
He swallowed the words just about to leave his mouth.
It couldn't be. But that was the only possible
explanation.
Nezumi's grey eyes slid slightly aside.
"Yeah. That's the only explanation." His words tracing
Shion's thoughts almost exactly, Nezumi continued in an
expressionless voice. "You said so," he said to Shion, "you
said someone was calling. Thanks to that someone, we
were able to get this far. Granted, this isn't the kind of
place I'd be terribly excited to see. But that aside, I can't
think of anyone else who'd be the precious sort to send us
welcoming emissaries from inside the Correctional Facility.
She's the only possible person."
He had no choice but to nod. Shion himself had been
feeling Safu calling him. He had been urged on by this
voice, and been led thus far.
But if that was the case, that meant Safu was
somehow involved with the core of the computer system.
But how? How was it made possible for her?
"Shion." Only Nezumi's lips moved as he called Shion's
name. "How long are you planning on sitting there for? You
can wait for as long as you like, but there won't be any
coffee coming."
"Ah―"
 Of course. What was he doing? He'd come this far:
what was he doing squatted on the ground?
He willed strength into his legs, and stood up. His feet
were unsteady. He managed to dig his heels in, but barely.
Nezumi never tried to reach out to him. Shion also had no
intentions of clinging to the figure that stood beside him.
They were wounded, exhausted, and had spilled the
same amount of blood―no, it must have been much more
arduous for Nezumi.
Clinging was the last thing Shion wanted to do. Even if
he were to lean on Nezumi and manage to stand, taking
the next step would probably prove immensely difficult. If
he could stand with his own strength, he would be able to
advance with his own strength as well.
Safu was still watching them. Her hands were clasped
tightly together as if in prayer, and she remained still.
"It wasn't me," was Safu's short answer. "I don't have
that kind of power."
Nezumi's brow furrowed slightly.
"I only thought it... I only kept thinking in my heart
that I wanted to see Shion."
"Then who is it? Who brought us here?"
"Elyurias."
"Elyurias!" Nezumi and Shion cried in unison.
Elyurias.
 They had heard the name from Rou, the elder who had
long lived in the underground realm. He was a man who
had been involved in the foundation of No. 6 as a
city-state, and had lost both his legs to the parasite wasp
as its first sacrifice. He was an old and close friend of
Shion's mother, Karan.
Rou had said it.
Elyurias was a great sovereign. No, I am sure she still
is. She probably still reigns even now.
Shion ran a hand over his pocket. The chip that Rou
had given him was in there. Once he rescued Safu safely
from the Correctional Facility, he wanted to take his time
to decode it thoroughly. Here lay the answers to the
puzzle. The mystery of No. 6. The mystery of the
underground realm. And more than anything, the
mysteries surrounding Nezumi. Answers existed to these
questions. There must also be considerable amounts of
information loaded onto the chip concerning Elyurias, the
queen.
His heart raced slightly at the thought. But he had
forgotten cleanly about the chip after stepping into the
Correctional Facility. He hadn't even recalled it once. They
had not had the time. He had been running constantly,
pushing the limits of his mind and body. One misstep, one
moment of decision could invert life and death. He had to
survive even one second longer―survive and move
forward. This thought had occupied his mind completely.
Elyurias.
 To think that he would hear this name coming from
Safu's mouth.
"Do you know Elyurias?" Nezumi's tone wavered for the
first time. A faint agitation crept into his voice.
"I don't. But... she was the one who led you here. She
awakened me completely... she taught me the truth."
"The truth," Nezumi repeated, as if to cross-examine
her. "Truth, huh. Safu, why did Elyurias or whoever it is
invite us here?"
"I don't know."
"Where is Elyurias now?"
"I don't know... but―"
"But?"
"But I think she must be... very close. I have a feeling
she is."
"Is that just your intuition, or―"
Safu shifted on the spot.
"Bombarding me with questions, aren't you, Nezumi?"
"I won't get any answers if I don't bombard you. We
haven't come here to have a leisurely chat. There's a pile
of things we have to know, that we ought to know. If you
could just give us the answers, that's efficient for all of us.
Don't you think, Safu?"
 "You're right. But I can't answer even half of what you
want to know. You're not looking for the kind of answers...
that you can obtain easily, right?"
"So you're telling us to go out and search for ourselves
if we want answers." Nezumi exhaled. "Which means, to
sum it up, you don't know anything."
"I don't know anything about you, Nezumi. But I do
know... about Shion."
Safu exhaled as well. "Because I wished it. I wished
strongly that I would get to see Shion. Elyurias heard my
wish. She told me..."
Safu's lips trembled.
"I will grant your wish. I will bring you to the person
you most want to see... that's what she said. And she
didn't break her promise."
"So Elyurias can freely control the computer system?"
"I don't know. I don't know who she is, or where she is,
or why she started to talk to me all of a sudden... I don't
have a clear idea... of anything."
"She spoke? To you? From beside you?"
Safu refuted the suggestion.
No, not like that.
"She... spoke from inside me. When I was falling
asleep, she called to me directly."
"Wait, what do you mean by―"
 "That's enough." Shion took hold of Nezumi's arm.
Nezumi's slid his gaze languidly from Shion's fingers to his
face.
"It's alright, that's enough, Nezumi. We're not here to
have a leisurely chat, or to interrogate Safu."
We've come this far. Now we have to escape.
There were two people up to this point, and from
here on there will be three.
Nezumi continued to stare at Shion, and blinked.
"'Stand not upon the order of your going, but go at
once,'[2] huh. I don't know how easy it'll be for us compared
to the lords going home from a banquet."
"That's awfully pessimistic of you."
"I'm careful. I don't do the naivety thing. It's probably
known all over by now that we're on this top floor. Scary
old men might be storming up from downstairs right this
moment."
"Nezumi, there's only one route that leads here, and
that's the elevator we just came with. No one can enter
unless that elevator moves. All the facilities in this
building are programmed into the computer system."
"And what makes you so sure that the system's gonna
stay on our side? Are you saying you can see when and
where our situation is gonna change?"
"Well―"
He was at a loss for an answer.
 "We can't even put a finger on who or what this
Elyurias person is. Don't forget that. Think before trusting
someone whom you don't even know the truth about."
Nezumi was right. Neither Shion nor Nezumi had any
definite information about Elyurias. What they had was
what Rou had told them, and what they had heard from
Safu.
He knew they could not cling to ambiguous things.
They could not make a blindly positive interpretation. It
took firm resolve to believe in another person. Trust was
hollow without resolve. It was a fake, papier-mache
indulgence masked with a thin wrapper. And even a
millimetre of indulgence was enough to cost him his life.
"Safu," Shion spoke to the girl in front of him. "Could
you take us to the main computer... the mother computer,
it might be called... the core of the system?"
Safu nodded. There was no time for hesitation,
anxiety, or prolonged thought.
"Follow me." She turned her back, and started to walk.
"Let's go," Shion encouraged. Nezumi showed a slight
hesitation.
"Can we trust her?"
"Safu?"
"Yeah. Can we just follow her innocently like this? Can
you say for sure that she won't betray us?"
"I can."
 "And you're absolutely sure?" A cold smile played on
Nezumi's lips. Declaring absolute trust in someone was not
a virtue for Nezumi; it was closer to foolhardiness.
"Nezumi, I have three people I can trust one-hundred
percent, no matter what happens to me. Those people are
Safu, my mother, and you."
I can believe them, no matter what. Believing has
supported me. I don't think it's naivety. A simple and
superficial trust will corner a person into trouble one day.
But someone who can't trust anyone sincerely is fragile.
The only foothold they have is an unstable one on sand.
I can believe, no matter what happens. I can keep on
believing to the end. That's resilience―it can't be
anything else.
"If... If any one of these three were to betray me,
then I would resign myself to it. Even if I were to lose my
life over it, I wouldn't have any regrets. When I start
doubting Safu, or my mother, or you... when I stop being
able to believe in you, that's the same as annihilation for
me."
The smile vanished from Nezumi's face. The colour in
his eyes darkened. It made Nezumi look like someone in
endless thought in search for the truth, or a lost man
wandering at his wit's end.
"Shion, you don't feel it?"
"Feel? Feel what?"
"Something off."
 "Off... about what?"
Nezumi watched Safu's back in silence.
"Alright, fine, we'll do as you wish. It seems like the
only path open to me is the one that follows yours,
anyway. Took me long enough to realize it, but I guess I
have to steel myself if I want to get anywhere."
"Does that mean you trust me?"
"Don't get carried away, idiot," spat Nezumi as he
began to walk. It was hard to tell that he had a bullet
wound in his leg. Shion couldn't help but drag his own
foot. His wounded leg felt heavy, as if it were not his own.
They moved further in amongst the transparent
columns with Safu in the lead. Some moments later, they
hit a wall. It was white with a faint tint of yellow, like the
floor. The wall split open silently as Safu stood in front of
it.
"The inner chamber of the palace, huh?" Nezumi licked
his lips.
Shion had opened his eyes widely, almost
unconsciously holding his breath.
It was a white, brightly-lit room. It was not
particularly spacious. The size was about the same as a
floor or a living room of an average-sized house in No. 6.
The lights glowed brilliantly, illuminating every corner of
the room, which had no windows or furniture.
 A column penetrated its centre. It was a size thicker
than what he had seen moments earlier. There was no
brain floating in it, but there was a pale silver sphere. It
was covered in innumerable small projections, and the
tips of those projections blinked with lights every few
seconds. Some were blue, some were crimson, and yet
others glowed a deep red. Thin, clear tubes extended
from some of the projections and spread upwards in a
tangle. It was too dark beyond that to see any further.
"This is the Mother."
"This is the Mother?"
Safu and Shion's voices overlapped.
"There's an identical model in the Moondrop. That
one's the Grandmother, and people call it Grandma. A
research institution that was first stationed in the
Moondrop broke off as an independent organization and
moved to the Correctional Facility. That was because a
version of Grandma ― smaller, but with the same functions
― was complete. The Mother. That was one reason."
"In the Correctional Facility, they could easily get their
hands on test subjects for their experiments. Human test
subjects, to be exact. That would be the second reason,
right?"
Nezumi huffed.
"Either that, or they were starting to need larger
quantities of them. There was no way to acquire humans
in bulk to use as lab rats. Not in No. 6. Bringing in a large
number of people from outside would also be a hassle. But
here, in the Correctional Facility, there would be no
problem. People were overflowing in the West Block. They
only had to switch the purpose of their Hunt, which was
population control, to securing test subjects. It can be for
the granny or the mom, but I think that might be a more
likely reason for their little move than the computer, don't
you think?"
"You may be right." Safu closed her eyes for a short
while. Once the girl's black eyes disappeared from her
bloodless face, she looked like a doll.
"The Correctional Facility was.... always a place for
human experimentation. Many experiments involving living
human bodies were conducted over and over. Thanks to
that, No. 6's medical technology saw leaps and bounds in
development... And both you and I, Shion, received the
full benefits of it..."
"Yeah... that's right."
Shion turned back to Nezumi and asked him a
question. His voice didn't sound like his own, it was so
raspy and unpleasant to the ears.
"Nezumi, that room... that room with the passageway
that led from the underground chamber..."
The bottom of the elevator had opened, fast becoming
a gallows, and the people were dashed to the ground
along with their screams. The underground chamber had
become the first page in the book of hellish horrors, and a
narrow passageway from there had opened up into a room
that looked nearly like a cube. Nezumi had called it a
"temporary resting place".
"Yeah. Have you finally noticed? The structure from
the underground chamber to that room is designed to
select lab rats. The people who were able to reach that
room were those who could bear the impact from falling
from the elevator, and escape on their own using the
blinking lights as a guide. They're lab rats with
above-average strength in both body and mind, and with a
decent amount of intelligence. Superior lab rats. If you're
going to use lab rats, you might as well get the stronger,
more resistant ones. That's what they thought."
Safu made a small choked noise.
The eyes of a certain man rose in the back of Shion's
mind. He did not know the name nor the upbringing of the
man who possessed those eyes. The man had been
struggling, unable to die, and had clung to Shion in his
suffering, and his eyes―his eyes were coming back to him.
Nezumi had been the one who saved that man. He had
given the man a peaceful death. Nezumi had called it
murder, not salvation. Shion didn't know. Like before, even
now, Shion struggled to grasp the answer.
The only thing Shion could answer for certain was that
that man was a living human, not an experimental lab rat.
"Do you remember there being a door in that room?"
Nezumi asked him. Shion remembered. The room had
been illuminated then, though somewhat dimly. The light
had stung at his eyes which had been used to the
darkness. He had seen a grey door beneath that light. He
remembered.
"That door is where they come to collect the survivors,
but it doesn't lead into the Correctional Facility. It's from
when the research institution still used to be at the
Moondrop. People were let out through that door, then
embedded with identification chips like prisoners, and
then sent to the city hall ― the Moondrop. The chip is a
safety measure in case someone escapes. But by placing
the research institution right inside the Correctional
Facility, they removed all of that extra work. Efficient,
indeed, don't you think?"
"Identification chip..." Something flared up in his
mind. "Nezumi, you got out through that door four years
ago, didn't you? And you escaped while you were being
escorted to the Moondrop."
"Four years ago, huh... it was a stormy day. I mark it
down on my calendar as the day I met a certain weirdo
who opened his window in the middle of a rainstorm. But
now isn't the time to be taking a walk down memory lane.
Safu, you know the truth about the Correctional Facility.
Not only that, but about No. 6 itself. And Elyurias is the
one who told you about it, right?"
"Yes. She taught me the truth behind No. 6, the
so-called Holy City, the Utopia, even. ...But Shion, you
weren't just taught. You saw with your own eyes. You
heard with your own ears."
 "Only a part of it." Only a part of it. There were still
an enormous amount of things he didn't know, hadn't
realized yet, still had to ponder and think about.
Shion inhaled. He felt a faint pain deep within his
chest. It wasn't a physical pain. It was a small twinge
inside his mind that had developed unbeknownst to him. It
throbbed every time he thought about No. 6.
No. 6 was no utopia. It was a ruthless and cruel
city-state. For its peace and prosperity, it shunned no kind
of brutality. But, but, but.... Shion inhaled again, and
pressed a hand to his chest.
What was No. 6? Was it not a country built by human
hands?
I want you to believe this much. We tried to found an
ideal city here, a Paradise free of war and poverty...
where we could have gone wrong, I don't know..
Rou's words. He was sure they weren't lies. No. 6 in its
infancy had still been based on the ideology and will of
human beings.
A society without war, so that everyone could be
happy.
Where did we go wrong?
Rou's thin, trembling voice and his words left a mark in
Shion's heart like a hot brand.
Where do people stray off the path? When do they
begin to obey their greed rather than their ideals? Or are
ideals just prone to morphing easily into greed? If so,
then the same thing will happen in the future. Even if No.
6 were to fall, a second, a third Holy City would be born.
Where did we go wrong?
Are human beings capable of creating a country
without going astray?
Shion shook his head. Now was not the time to be
uncertain over his own questions. He was not going to
flee. He would face them squarely in the near future. But
now, he had to focus on the single task of overcoming the
wall before him.
He drew closer to the Mother.
A thin plastic board which looked like a control panel
was attached to the front of the round column. There
were seven keys in each column and fourteen in each row.
They were white, marked with no numbers, letters, or
symbols. He tapped a key to test it out, but there was no
response. He let his fingers race across the control panel,
typing whatever that came to mind.
"How is it?" Nezumi peered at Shion's hands. "Does it
look like you can do something about it?"
"It's not working."
"Don't give up just yet. It shouldn't be hard to have
Mama or Grandma in the palm of your hand with your
brains and skills. I think you're quite a womanizer in that
sense."
 "You're expecting too much from me, Nezumi. I'm no
match against her. Forget coaxing her to like me, she's
already elbowed me away because she doesn't want
anything to do with me."
Nezumi's eyes narrowed, and the dark grey light in
them condensed.
"So the Mother didn't take a liking to you... are you
sure you can't do it, Shion?"
"I can't. There seems to be a special authorization
system, and you can't get close to the Mother unless you
clear it. It's too bad, but... there's nothing more I can do."
"Mama is so strict. I can't help but sigh," Nezumi said,
clicking his tongue instead.
"Safu, how about you?"
"I can't, Shion. No one can can go near Mother, save
one person."
"One person... the mayor?"
"No. This person has no name for his profession. He
created this research institution, and presides over it... he
thinks he is the true ruler of No. 6. The Mother is his
creation, and it'll only obey him. That's how it was made."
"How about this woman, Elyurias? Doesn't she have full
control over the Mother? That's why she was able to open
and close the barriers when she wanted, and operate the
elevator, right?"
Nezumi and Shion looked at each other.
 Yes, Elyurias. Maybe she can...
"Safu, does Elyurias still speak to you? Can you speak
to her from your end?"
He took one step closer to Safu.
Safu took one step back.
Now, Shion finally felt "something off", as Nezumi had
mentioned earlier.
Why doesn't she come closer?
Safu always kept a set distance, and didn't try to
narrow that gap.
"Safu?"
"Don't come!" Safu's words sounded close to a scream
as they issued from her lips. Shion watched the girl recoil,
and felt his heart palpitating. A flurry of unease started up
in his chest.
Why?
"Why are you running away, Safu?"
"Don't come close. Please. Shion..."
A tear suddenly trickled down Safu's cheek.
"I was waiting... waiting all this time. I wanted to see
you, so, so much... that was all I hoped for..."
"And we did see each other. I'm right in front of you,
right now. I came to save you and get you out of here. We
came to escape the Correctional Facility together."
 He stepped forward and offered a hand.
"Safu, let's get out. Out of this building. Let's go
together."
Safu jerked her chin up. She was chewing her lip in a
desperate attempt to contain her shaking. She shook her
head, her face still drawn.
A gesture of rejection.
"Why!? Why are you refusing us?"
He tried to restrain himself, but he could not. His tone
turned rough to match the rise of his emotions.
Safu, let me hold you. Hold you with my own arms. I
want to embrace you to make up for all those years we
spent apart. We've finally been able to see each other.
Words of every kind are whirling inside me, words to say
to you, to tell you, to apologize to you. Like a muddy
stream. Like a howling wind, they're ringing out.
But why do you refuse? Why are you trying to flee
from the hand I'm offering you?
"Safu, I―"
He was grabbed by the arm.
"Stop." Nezumi's fingers dug deeply into his skin. "Stop
it. Don't get any closer. Do as she says."
"Nezumi, even you―?"
Nezumi beheld Shion silently, still holding his arm. His
gaze stopped Shion from saying anything more. Shion
swallowed the rest of his sentence. His unspoken words
became a muddy flow, a swift wind that further agitated
his heart. His breathing turned erratic from anxiety and
uncertainty. It was an entirely different type of unrest
than what he had felt at imagining the difficulty of all
three of them escaping the Correctional Facility together.
His body froze up at this unidentifiable fear.
"Safu, what do you want?" Nezumi asked. There was no
hint of aggressive pressure. His voice was soft, deep, and
beautiful. "What do you want us to do?"
Safu's expression relaxed somewhat.
"...Will you grant my wish?"
"It's my command."
Safu drew a slight breath.
"Destroy the Mother."
Nezumi's fingers tightened their grip, but in the next
instant, fell from Shion's arm. Only the sensation of his
strong grip remained.
"You're telling us to destroy this computer."
"Yes."
"I see... well, if we could do that, that'd be more than
I could ask for. If we could, that is." Nezumi fished out a
coin-shaped microbomb from his jacket pocket, and held
it between his fingers.
 "If we set this guy to maximum power, it should be
able to blow apart the computer, no problem."
"It won't work."
Shion lightly touched the cylindrical column.
"The computer itself might be fragile, but the problem
is with this column. It's made of special plastic. I'm pretty
sure that even a missile hitting this thing wouldn't make it
budge. It's like a glass ball encased in a durable capsule.
It's impossible to destroy it with a coin bomb."
"You're a hundred percent sure."
"Yeah."
"A hundred percent impossible, and zero percent
possible. Then we've got nothing to go on."
"I can open the column."
Nezumi's gaze hardened at Safu's words.
"You can open the door to the Mother?"
"Not me."
"Elyurias?"
"Yes. She can do it. I'm sure she'll open it for you."
"If she can do so much already, it should be easy
enough for her to stop the Mother itself. You don't even
need to rely on us."
"It needs will."
"Huh?"
 "She said... there needs to be human will."
Nezumi and Shion looked at each other blankly for a
second or two.
"There needs to be human will in order to destroy it,"
Safu repeated. She was like a medium announcing an
oracle. Nezumi shifted uneasily.
"Those are Elyurias' words?"
"Yes."
"So she's saying she'll help, but the final decision has
to come from our will."
"Yes."
"But that means..." Nezumi trailed off. Shion was
nodding. He felt like he had heard clearly what Nezumi
had left unsaid.
That means Elyurias isn't human.
It was probably true. He couldn't imagine a human in
the flesh able to manoeuvre through such a tight security
system and infiltrate its information routes, except for
"him".
Elyurias wasn't a human. Then, what was she?
A god? A demon? A spirit of nature? Could she be―
"There needs to be human will in order to destroy
it..." Nezumi repeated Safu's―no, Elyurias'― words.
 Safu closed her eyes, and murmured. "Humans are the
only ones who wilfully destroy things. It is something only
humans can do... so only humans can destroy the Mother."
It was almost like an incantation.
Shion felt a chill.
Shion knew Safu as a person of frank speech, with a
very strong sense of reality. She could speak of hopes and
dreams in realistic terms, not fantastical ones; but reality
did not bind her too strongly, for she could still have hopes
and dreams without being hindered by it. She was
sensitive, but not over-sensitive. Her mind was like a
straight young tree. It was upright, yet flexible.
She wasn't the kind of girl to repeat herself in a
muffled murmur like this. She was definitely not.
"Fine. We'll take it on." Nezumi's voice made Shion's
eardrum tremble. He was supposed to be used to hearing
his voice, and yet it hit his earlobes more vividly than
ever.
Safu opened her eyes.
"...Will you grant it?"
"If that's your wish."
"Thank you. I am grateful." Safu clasped her hands,
and bowed her head.
"I don't need any thanks. Destroying the Mother is like
shooting the Correctional Facility through the heart. I
could have wished with all my might and still not gotten
this opportunity. It's worth a try, if this column will really
open and expose the Mother, even for a moment."
Nezumi's eyes glittered. It was like the glitter of a
finely-sharpened knife.
The control panel lit up without warning. Words
emerged in the air. Nezumi gave a short whistle. He
placed his fingers on the control panel.
"Unlocked, unlocked, unlocked... heh, a miracle
transformation from haughty queen to meek lady. Now
even I can handle her."
Shion's gaze was focused intently on Nezumi's
fingertips. Every time, and at any time, he couldn't help
but admire those graceful movements. To Shion, those
fingers seemed to play a sweet melody, or breathe life
into a lively rhythm.
Every time, and at any time, he couldn't help but
admire him.... But this time, his heart was not drawn as
strongly as usual.
The restless sounds of his heart refused to disappear.
Instead, they echoed even more strongly.
Nezumi's fingers stilled. A silver thread suddenly
appeared in the centre of the column. One, two, three,
four. The silver threads intersected to form a rectangle.
"The door," Nezumi said. "All you have to say now is
'open sesame'." Perhaps even he was tense; Nezumi's voice
was low and somewhat heavy-sounding.
 "Wait." Shion grabbed Nezumi's wrist. He could feel
the other's body heat and pulse on the palm of his hand.
"Just wait for a second."
A shadow crossed Nezumi's eyes. A breath's length of
silence.
"Shion, we don't have time to be wishy-washy and
hesitant."
"I know. But wait, please... Safu."
Safu's head was still bowed. Her shoulders clad in her
black sweater were trembling.
"Safu, you still haven't answered my question. Why are
you refusing us? Why aren't you coming any closer?"
"Shion..."
"And that sweater... your grandmother hand-knitted
that, didn't she? The last time I saw that was a long time
ago. I probably wasn't even ten then."
"You're right." Safu broke into a sudden smile. "You
were the one to speak to me first. You said it suited me. I
was happy... so happy. Everyone else was laughing
condescendingly at my hand-knitted sweater. They were
saying that you'd only find a wool sweater in a museum
these days. But you didn't laugh. You... only you were
loyal to your own feelings and emotions, and to others,
too. Shion... I was able to meet you in that bleak... even
lonely... world of elite education. And that, I think, is
very―"
 "Stop!" Shion overran Safu's words. "Why are you
talking about past memories? That's not what I want to
hear. What I want to say is: why are you still able to wear
a sweater you got when you were ten? You've grown taller
since then, and your frame has changed, too. There's no
way you should be able to wear it. Or is that a new
sweater that looks exactly the same? But..."
"I wanted you to remember." Safu interrupted Shion
this time. "I wanted you to remember me. You said this
suited me... so I wanted you to remember me wearing this
sweater."
"Remember? Are you telling me to turn you into a
memory? Safu, what're you talking about? You're not
planning to come along with us?"
"Shion, leave it at that." Nezumi grasped his arm
again. This time, he held fast and yanked. It was enough
power to make Shion stagger.
Shion tripped, and bumped into Nezumi. Nezumi did
not budge.
"That's enough. This is as far as it goes."
"A far as what goes?"
"Don't corner her to distract yourself from your own
uncertainty. That's a cowardly thing to do."
Shion felt himself sweating. Nezumi's gaze stabbed at
him.
"Me... cowardly..."
 "Shion, you know already, don't you? There's no way
you couldn't have realized. And if you have realized...
don't avert your eyes from the truth. Averting your eyes
and running away isn't going to solve anything. Nothing
will change, and nothing will return to the way it was."
It will solve nothing. Nothing will change. Nothing will
return to the way it was.
It was difficult to draw a breath. The sweat stung in
his eyes.
"Shion, don't run away. At the very least, not now...
you can't run away now."
He blinked. He caught Nezumi's gaze. He turned his
head, and glanced at Safu.
"...You're saying she's not real... that she's an illusion."
"She's what the Mother is showing us: a virtual reality.
Your friend doesn't exist in reality."
Doesn't exist in reality. What is that? What do those
words mean?
Shion was close to screaming. Terror welled up from
the core of his body. Safu had not run into his
outstretched arms. She had not even tried to touch Shion's
fingertips.
She had not been able to. She was neither able to
embrace nor be embraced.
Doesn't exist in reality.
An incorporeal
 illusion. An incorporeal illusion.
Nezumi's tone became hurried, though only slightly.
"At first I thought it was a trap. But I changed my mind
when I realized there would be no point in setting a trap
for us now. If it wanted to kill us, it had hundreds,
thousands of opportunities to do so. It had a reason to
keep us alive and bring us here. The Mother went as far as
to borrow Safu's body because it needed to tell us
something... that's what I was thinking. What I didn't
expect was that it would send us on the task of killing the
Mother itself."
"The Mother..." Shion glanced at the sphere covered in
protrusions. "It's not the Mother," he shook his head.
Nezumi's fingers loosened. "If the Mother had created the
virtual image, it would have recreated it true to Safu. It
wouldn't take the trouble to pull up the black sweater
from Safu's memories. Computers don't have emotions. But
Safu chose that sweater out of her own will. It wasn't the
Mother... Nezumi, the Mother isn't the one showing Safu to
us... it's Safu herself."
"So Safu is using the Mother to project herself?"
"Yeah... isn't that right, Safu? Or is this Elyurias' doing,
too?" It sounded so unlike his own voice. Like a cowering
beast baring its fangs, desperately raising its voice in
aggression. That kind of growl. Twisted and ugly, and
fierce but intimidated.
"Yes... Elyurias wakened me. Before then, I felt like I
was drifting through a dream... just floating... Elyurias
awakened my consciousness, and taught me what I could
do. I... can't overrule the Mother. But I can use part of its
functions... that's all I can do."
"Where are you? Where are you in reality?"
"Nowhere." Safu's voice turned strained. "I don't exist
anywhere anymore."
"That's absurd. Then who made you, standing in front
of me like this? Didn't you?"
"I'm not here, Shion. I've already..."
Safu took a step closer. Shion also advanced. He
extended his arm straight forward. It touched nothing. His
fingers had reached Safu's shoulder, but there was nothing
there. Moments ago, he had felt Nezumi's body heat and
pulse. That warmth and movement was proof that he was
alive.
"I wanted to say good-bye to you. I wanted to say
thank you. I was happy all this time... because you were
there."
Safu looked up at Shion. A defiant glint shone in her
eyes. "I loved you."
"Safu―"
"That's my truth. It doesn't matter what you think of
me. I loved you, and only that is the truth."
Oh, that's Safu, Shion thought. Firmly-grounded
strength, a beautiful resilience like that of a bird in flight:
that was Safu.
 "If I hadn't met you, I wouldn't have known what it was
like to yearn after someone. I would never have known
what it meant to love.... I'm glad I was able to know. I was
born, and I was able to meet you. I don't regret a single
thing. Hm, well, that might be a little bravado. You did
tell me once that I had a bad habit putting on a brave
face."
Safu's fingers touched Shion's cheek. He didn't feel it
on his skin. But he definitely did feel that Safu's fingers
had touched him.
"Shion... you think so, too, don't you?"
Safu threw a glance over Shion's shoulder at Nezumi,
who was standing behind him.
"You feel the same way I do, don't you? You're glad you
were able to know. You wouldn't be able to live anymore
without knowing what yearning and love is like."
"...Yeah." You're right, Safu. I know. I came to know
No. 6's true face, and the fact that No. 6 existed within
me, too. I came to know what it was like for my heart to
feel moved for someone, to yearn strongly for someone. I
can't go back to when I didn't know. I don't want to go
back. I would never want to go back to when I lived
peacefully, knowing nothing.
Shion clenched his hand into a hard fist to repress his
shaking. But even his fist began to tremble.
 "We don't have to go back. There's no need to. Safu,
we just need to start off from when we do know. We can
start off right now, from this place."
It's a starting point. A beginning, not an end. Right,
Safu? We can go on living together. Together...
His eyes fell on the tubes coming out of the Mother.
What is that connected to?
What are those tubes for?
"Please," Safu said, looking intently at Nezumi.
"Destroy the Mother."
Nezumi didn't try to avoid Safu's gaze. He met it
silently, and nodded his assent. Safu breathed a sigh of
relief. It was a breath of real relief, from the bottom of
her heart.
"Thank you so much..."
"I'll fulfil the promise. I never break a promise made,
no matter what it is."
"Yes... I know. You're that kind of person, aren't you?"
Nezumi faced the control panel again.
The section framed by silver lines glowed faintly red,
and slid to the side.
The door had opened.
Nezumi plunged his arm into the opening without a
second of hesitation. The control panel prevented him
from leaning forward any further. The Mother was out of
reach by a very small distance.
"Tsukiyo."
A black mouse poked its head out from out of the folds
of superfibre. It looked about, then scurried swiftly up to
Nezumi's shoulder.
"I'm counting on you."
Nezumi held out the coin-shaped bomb, and Tsukiyo
took it in its mouth.
"Nezumi, wait, Wait, please!"
"Can't," Nezumi said flatly. "I'm going to destroy the
Mother. I'm not going to wait any longer."
"Don't. Wait, please. Wait. Let me check what's on the
other end of those tubes."
"There's no need."
His gaze collided with Nezumi's.
"...Are you saying you know? Where Safu is... and
what's on the end of those tubes..."
"You should know, too. You saw it, after all."
It?
The expanse outside this room. It was like a cemetery
with rows of transparent gravestones. Gravestones, or
coffins? A burial vessel, each one with a human brain
inside.
 "Go."
Tsukiyo dashed off at its master's command. It leapt
energetically toward the Mother, and landed on top of it.
"Alright, good. Now wedge it right there."
Tsukiyo's movements were swift and smooth. It
wedged the coin bomb between two projections, lifted its
head, and twitched its nose toward Nezumi as if to wait
for further orders.
"Good job."
Tsukiyo hopped into Nezumi's open palm. As he
withdrew his arm, the door to the Mother closed in the
same silent way that it had opened.
Shion watched the events unfold before him
stock-still, rooted to the ground.
Nezumi's eyes looked past Shion.
"Done. Time limit is three minutes. That's the longest I
can set the timer for."
"Three minutes... get away, quickly." Safu's tone and
gaze tensed. Shion looked from Nezumi to Safu.
"If we're going to escape, you're going to be coming
with us."
"Shion, how many times will you make me repeat
myself? I can't go. You and Nezumi escape together."
"Safu."
"Go. You don't have a second to waste. Hurry."
 When they were students, they had been required to
present research for their assignments once a month.
When it was Safu's turn to present, some students with the
same research topic had made noise and disrupted her on
purpose. Even before Shion could stand up to admonish
them, Safu had looked straight at those students and
thrown a sharp remark.
"You should be ashamed."
The boy who had been at the centre of the
noise-making stood up, and scowled exaggeratedly. "We
should be ashamed? Are you insulting us?"
"I have no intention at all of insulting you. But
regardless of the content, listening to others' research
presentations until the end is common courtesy at the
least, is it not? Even a three-year-old could do it. But you
can't. Something to be ashamed of, isn't it?"
Applause rose from various spots in the classroom. The
boy bit his lip, and resumed his seat in silence.
Her slightly flushed cheeks, her wilful gaze, the line of
her tightly-drawn chin―the same Safu from that day was
standing right in front of him. But he couldn't touch her.
He couldn't even escape with her.
That can't be.
"If you're in here―" Shion made a fist, and punched the
column as hard as his strength allowed. "―I'll get you out.
We're going together, Safu."
No matter what you may look like.
 "Stop!" Safu shrieked. "Stop, stop. Anything but that!"
She raised both her hands as if to block Shion's vision.
"Anything but that... Shion, please. Just don't... don't do
anything cruel like that... don't."
Safu was truly afraid. Fear radiated from her words
and her gaze.
"If I was going to be seen by you like this... I would
never have hoped for you. I wouldn't have wished to see
you again."
"But Safu..."
"Shion, I'll say this again. I don't exist anymore, but I'm
still trapped. It's painful. Very. I can't― I can't bear any
more of this humiliation. So please, destroy the Mother.
Set me free."
He couldn't think.
Numerous white lines ran through his head, cutting off
the circuits of his thoughts.
"Come on." Nezumi pulled at his arm. "Safu, I want you
to secure the escape route for us until the very last
minute."
"I will."
Safu broke into a run. She collided right into Shion. He
instinctively tried to embrace her, but her body passed
through him with no impact whatsoever. He didn't even
feel a faint breeze.
 I'm an illusion. Nothing more than a mirage. This
spoke to him more meaningfully than a million words put
together.
Suddenly, an alarm went off. It rang out across the
entire Correctional Facility.
Emergency alert. Emergency alert.
Level 5, Level 5.
Emergency evacuation. Emergency evacuation.
He pursued Safu with Nezumi still holding his arm.
Half of his mind had ceased to work, and he could neither
accept reality, nor make an appropriate judgment. He
couldn't even assess the current situation.
All three of us are escaping together. Me, Nezumi,
Safu―three of us, alive, in the flesh. We're running to
stand underneath the sun again. Yes, that has to be it.
The cogwheels creaked in his head. Emitting a strange
metallic sound, they turned, stopped, turned backwards,
and stopped again.
Creak creak creak, creak creak creak...
His torn thought circuits mended once, then were cut
apart and scattered asunder; then they solidified, and
turned sticky.
All three of us are escaping. We'll be able to get out.
We can get away. We can go back to that place I yearn for
again.
 I yearn, I yearn, I yearn, I yearn... for that place that
has burned itself into my eyes, engraved itself into my
soul. Not No. 6, of course, but that room. The place that
brought me back to life, and allowed me to be born
again.
I want to show Safu that room, where Nezumi lives.
Safu, you wouldn't believe this place. There's almost
nothing in it apart from books. There's a chair. There's a
kerosene heater, a bed... and the little mice. Just those.
You'll probably stand there in astonishment, open your
eyes wide, and look around the place again and again.
You'd reach out and gently place your fingers on the piles
of books. And then... and then, what would you do?
Would you smile? Would you cry out in awe? Would you be
so overwhelmed that you would only stand dazed?
Then, I'd tell you: 'This was my starting point.'
That room was where I started off. I took a cautious
step out of the bounds of my ignorance, led along by
Nezumi. Like a baby who touches the outside world for its
first time, I stepped out into a world I didn't know about.
I want to show that place to you. I want you to see it,
too.
Oh, and Inukashi. I need to introduce Inukashi to you.
He's the greatest―such a jovial and wonderful person. You
could probably get friendly with him in no time. Inukashi
can really understand, you know. He can sniff out the true
nature of people. No matter how well you disguise
yourself, he always notices the arrogance and foolishness
under your disguise.
'I have a good nose, particularly when it comes to the
smell of rot. It can be meat, leftover food, or someone's
rotten intentions, but I'll smell it out in no time. Can't hide
nothing from me.'
He said that to me once, and he's right. Inukashi will
sniff out anything. It's pretty amazing. And that's why I
think he'll like you. He definitely will. He'll twitch the tip
of his nose, and he'll say:
'Hmmm. Shion, this girl is pretty fresh. She looks good
to eat. I know for sure I wouldn't have to worry about
getting food poisoning if I did.'
And he'll smirk. He has a very rough way of speaking,
and―yeah, it'll probably surprise you until you get used to
it... but Inukashi never lies. He won't turn against his own
heart. He's someone you can trust with your whole being.
You'll come to understand and accept the way he is.
Ha ha, I can almost imagine you stretching your hand
out to Inukashi, and him taking it gingerly with a sullen
look on his face. And I'd probably be watching, trying not
to laugh.
Then, there's Rikiga-san. He's quite older, and he and
my mother actually knew each other. Isn't that a surprise?
Rikiga-san also has a rough way of speaking. He also
has bad drinking habits. He's a big drinker, and he'll drink
for almost the entire day. Nezumi and Inukashi always
tease him about that. But I listen to the way they tease
him, and it's sometimes so harsh I feel bad for him. It's
true that he drinks too much, though. But―how would I
describe it?―he has his own likeable traits. Rikiga-san has
his own passions and emotions, too, and I can feel them
from him. He's the type of person that doesn't exist in No.
6. You'd agree, right? There's no one in that city who
would show their emotions so openly. Nezumi says that all
that drinking has loosened Rikiga's stopper on his
emotions to the point that they're constantly gushing out
into the open for everyone to see... and yes, Nezumi's got
quite a sharp tongue too. One that would match
Inukashi's.
There's also a girl named Kalan. That's right, she has
the same name as my mother. She's the first friend I made
in the West Block. She's still a little girl, but she's strong
and smart with a sense of pride. She loves picture books,
and I've read them aloud to her lots of times. It had been
so long since I read picture books.
And above all, I have to tell you about Nezumi. I want
you to know about him. Four years ago on a stormy night,
I met him. Ever since then, I feel like I've been captured
by him. When I'm with him, I lose sight of myself. No,
that's not it. I'm illuminated vividly. Maybe I'm blinded for
an instant because that light is so bright. That's how much
my vision had deteriorated. It was so weak, I couldn't
even discern myself, my surroundings, or the truth. Safu,
his―Nezumi's gaze and words pierce me. They shoot
through me, batter me, and save me. By his hands, I was
melted, wrought anew, and instilled with new life.
Safu, Safu you are my one and only, irreplaceable
friend. You're an important friend, and no one else could
compare.
Is that word so cruel? Is the love you have for me, and
the feelings I have for you forever parallel, with no
chance of intersecting?
Why are you such a kid?
You seemed weary when you said that. And you're
right. I'm so immature, I'm embarrassed at myself. I can't
restrain my emotions. If only I could love you the way you
wished me to... my one and only, so dear to me...
The cogwheels turned. They continued to jerk,
producing an unpleasant sound.
Creak creak creak, creak creak creak...
All three of us are escaping. I know we can get out.
They slipped hastily past the cylindrical columns. It
was still and quiet. Only two sets of footsteps―Nezumi's
and Shion's―echoed.
The crimson door opened. They could see the deserted
hallway. The three doors were completely shut, and there
was no sign of any human presence.
Safu's feet stopped.
"Go, hurry." She pointed straight at the elevator. "I'll
operate it for as long as I can, up to the time limit."
 "Gotcha." Nezumi stepped into the hallway. He was
still holding onto Shion's arm.
"Safu, you too."
"This is as far as I'll go. Shion, thank you, and
good-bye. Nezumi, you as well." Safu smiled.
The door closed again.
"Safu, wait, Safu―"
"Shion."
He was grabbed by the shoulder, and forced to turn
around. A fist dug into his stomach.
"Gh―" he could hear himself emit a low groan. His
body sank, and collapsed into Nezumi's arms. He didn't
lose consciousness, but for an instant, his limbs went
numb. He could not move.
He was being dragged to the elevator. He could feel
Nezumi's laboured breathing and the beating of his heart.
The elevator opened as if to summon them inside. Nezumi
muttered something. Shion couldn't hear. He tripped,
staggered, and they tumbled into the elevator with
Nezumi still holding onto Shion.
The elevator descended rapidly.
The security alarm was still going off.
Emergency alert. Emergency alert.
Level 5. Level 5.
Emergency evacuation. Emergency evacuation.
 All personnel, evacuate immediately.
Level 5. Level 5.
Emergency evacuation. Emergency evacuation.
"―Safu," Shion choked, still thrown out onto the floor.
Nezumi also crouched, breathing raggedly.
I can't stand any more, he thought. Both his body and
soul had withered. They were withered dry, yet so heavy.
He felt like lead had been poured into him, down to the
tips of his hair. He couldn't move anything.
"Don't... make noise yet." Nezumi's voice. It was
coming from somewhere high above his head. Echoing
somewhere far, far in the distance.
Nezumi, what am I here for? Why am I here, collapsed
in weakness, unable to move? Where is Safu? Why did you
leave her? Tell me. 'Don't cling onto to others. Grasp your
own answers,' you'd probably say. You scorn people who
cling to others too easily. I feel shame at my weakness.
But this time, please just tell me the answer. Give me the
correct one.
Why am I here? Why am I here, having left Safu
behind? Tell me. Tell me, Nezumi.
I cling to you.
The elevator came to an abrupt stop, and his body was
thrown up by the impact, and flung across the floor again.
The door opened partway, and then ceased to move. The
lights went out.
 He could hear thunder from far-off. A second impact
hit him shortly afterwards. It was much heavier than the
first one.
Thunder? No. It's nothing like that. This is―
An explosion jammed his ears. Darkness bore down on
him.
Holding his hands over his ears, Shion raised a
voiceless cry.

The elevator closed. It began its descent.

Safu stood silently, watching it leave.
Suddenly, a gentle voice rang out in her ears.
"It's you, Elyurias." Her eyes roved, but of course, she
saw nothing. She could not see, but she could feel.

Safu, was this the right thing to do? Are you truly
satisfied?

Safu tilted her head in uncertainty. She put a hand to

her chest. Tears sprang unexpectedly into her eyes.
I want to raise my voice and cry.
Shion―Shion, you're gone.
You came all the way here for me. I thought that
would be enough, but what am I feeling? What is this rush
of emotion?
 Shion, Shion, why is he the one beside you? Why isn't
it me? Why did fate not allow me to live alongside you? If
he wasn't here, would you have loved me instead?

You may not have been able to live together, but you
could have died together.

Safu lifted her face, and clasped her hands together at

her breast.

Safu, you did not wish for that?

In truth, in truth, had I wished... that you would die

with me, that you would expire here with me... Shion?
She shook her head. She did not wish for that. Even
now, she did not wish for it a tiny bit. She wanted him to
be alive. She wanted him to live, and change this world.
She wanted him to create a world in which no one was
forced to die such an unfair death.
Shion, live. Live out your life. Please.
"Elyurias, what will you do?"

Me? What will I do...?

"Yes. You've been set free, too. What will you do from
here?"
 Laughter rang out. It sounded like the wind crossing a
grassy plain.

You watch and see what I will do.

Safu shuddered. It was no breeze from the plains; she

felt like she was being hit by a frigid wind mixed with
sleet. A chill wind, signalling the arrival of the coldest
days of the winter.

Safu, I liked you. Perhaps... perhaps my meeting a

human like you will prove to mean very much to me.

"What do you mean?"

I wonder what? Oh, it's time. I must go. Good-bye,

Safu.

"Good-bye."
Yes, it was time. Safu closed her eyes. She felt the
warm rays of the sun and smelled the fragrance of the
trees. She was able to let a faint smile play on her lips.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 2
I've done
 "I've done with fancies, imaginary terrors and
phantoms! Life is real! haven't I lived just now?
[...] The Kingdom of Heaven to her- [...] Now for
the reign of reason and light... and of will, and of
strength... and now we will see! We will try our
strength!"[1]
-Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

Lili was sleeping. She breathed softly, lying on the

tattered sofa at the back of the shop.
She was in a fetal position, and with her furrowed
brow and her pursed lips, she looked anything but
peaceful. Tear streaks still stood out on her face. Out of
anxiety, perhaps, she had curled up into a ball, clutching
tightly onto the blanket Karan had covered her with.
"Lili... poor thing." Karan smoothed the blanket's
wrinkles out. Lili's lips moved imperceptibly.
"Daddy... don't go," she mumbled in her sleep. Her
fingers closed tightly around a corner of the blanket.
Tears sprang into Karan's eyes, and she hurriedly
pressed her fingers to her tear ducts. Crying would not do
anything. Tears had never solved anything for her; she had
wept herself dry when Shion had disappeared.
She had wept, and wept, and wept. Certainly, there
were times when her tears supported her. Sometimes,
crying allowed her to change her mindset and take a step
towards tomorrow. She had numerous such experiences.
Karan had no intentions of dismissing or being ashamed of
her tears.
But this time, it was different.
I have to protect this little girl. I can't sit here and
cry. I have to become stronger.
Karan gently stroked Lili's hair. She had to protect Lili
from any sort of peril. I won't let her be sad any longer. I
won't let her suffer. I couldn't protect Shion; I couldn't
protect Safu. But because of that, I have to protect Lili
with all it takes.
I've been given almost no power at all: no power to
change the world; no power to ward off the rain of
misfortune; no power to save the ones I love. I am weak,
but I am not powerless. There is still a little strength left
inside me. I'll use that strength to open my arms wide,
and become a shield to the ones weaker and more fragile
than me.
"Daddy... daddy... I'm scared."
Karan kissed Lili softly on her forehead. "Lili, it's okay.
It's going to be alright."
There was a knock.
Someone was knocking at the shop door in an
apologetic but hurried manner. Every time she heard a
knock, Karan's heart used to soar at the idea of Shion
coming home. She used to be overcome with the urge to
run up to the door. Now, she was calm enough to tilt a
cautious ear to the sound of the door being struck.
 It wasn't because she had lost hope. As a mother, her
hope for her son's return was firmly rooted in her heart.

It was Nezumi's message. That short letter was hope

itself. Hope brought ease and resolution back to Karan. It
bid her to be calm. It gave her something to believe in.

Yes, that's right. You'll definitely come home some

day, Shion. Definitely. Karan stood and crept up to the
door.
"Karan, aren't you home? It's me," said a somewhat
tired male voice. It was Yoming, the elder brother of Lili's
mother, Renka. He was Lili's only uncle and one of her few
blood relatives.
"Hold on a minute, Yoming. I'll open it now." She pulled
the blinds up and unlocked the door. A tall man entered
on unsteady feet. He looked even more exhausted than he
sounded.
"How's Renka?" she asked as she closed the door. The
man had sunken into a chair. According to him, Renka had
worked herself into a panic over worrying about her
husband, who had not returned home from work.
"I gave her tranquilizers and finally got her to sleep.
She cried and screamed... it was horrible. I never
imagined that she'd bawl like that. She's a little tougher
most of the time."
"She must be worried sick."
"You bet. No matter how long she kept waiting,
Getsuyaku never came home. He didn't show up on his
usual bus, nor on the one after that. This is the first time
this has happened since they got married. She figured
something had happened to him, and she didn't know what
to do. It was all she could think about. I told her to calm
down, but she wouldn't listen to anything I said... it was a
pity to watch."
"But someone would call if something happened at his
workplace, right? If there hasn't been a call, then..."
Yoming shook his head weakly. The bags under his eyes
grew more pronounced, and the creases deepened
between his eyebrows.
"I don't know where he works. I have no idea where to
call, or who to ask questions to. Getsuyaku didn't even tell
his own family where he was working."
"His workplace? Even Renka doesn't know?"
"Yeah, she said she has no idea. She'd questioned
Getsuyaku before, soon after they'd gotten married, but
he didn't give an answer. He said he wasn't doing anything
shady, but he couldn't say on corporate orders. He begged
her not to ask because he'd get fired for telling her. Renka
said she had no choice but to close her mouth after that.
His salary wasn't exactly high, but Getsuyaku made more
than the average Lost Town resident, and he used to hand
it all to his wife. Renka eventually stopped being bothered
by Getsuyaku's workplace, and reckoned that he'd tell her
when the time was right. She had Lili, and another baby
was on the way. Sure, it bothered her, but a stable means
of living was her main concern. So she turned a blind eye.
The result― this."
"But what kind of workplace would you have to keep
secret from your own family?"
"Where do you think?" Yoming looked up at Karan. A
sharp light glinted for a moment in his bloodshot eyes.
Karan swallowed. Secrets, concealment, silence.
"The Correctional Facility." As soon as the words slid
off her tongue, a bitter taste spread inside her mouth. She
knew it was an illusion, but it was bitter enough to make
her shudder.
"Yes, that's what I think, too. I don't have evidence,
but I'm almost positive it's there. Getsuyaku was working
at the Correctional Facility. Of course, it probably wasn't
such an important department. But a workplace that
needs to enforce a gag law right to the bottom rungs of its
organization... yeah, that place is the only possibility."
"But... even if Getsuyaku-san did work for the
Correctional Facility, he still came home every day at the
same time, right?"
"Yeah. He left home and came back every day on the
minute, like clockwork. But today, no matter how long she
waited, he never came home. And on top of that..."
Yoming hesitated to speak.
"Did something happen?"
Yoming extracted a small bag from his breast pocket,
and emptied its contents into the palm of his hand. Karan
held her breath.
"Oh my, gold coins."
Three gold coins. One gold coin amounted to about
half a year's worth of wages for Lost Town residents. Three
gold coins. It was an enormous sum.
"Getsuyaku gave them to her."
"Heavens, how did he come by such a large amount of
money?"
"Renka asked him the same thing. But knowing her, she
probably interrogated him, more like."
"And Getsuyaku-san?"
"He didn't give her a clear answer. He said it wasn't
shady money, and kept repeating that it was legitimate
payment. In the end, it was left in the dark. It's just
that... afterwards, Renka overheard him saying to himself
that it should be enough to sustain them for a good while.
Renka's insisting that Getsuyaku meant that they would be
okay if he disappeared. As for me, I don't think she's being
delusional."
"Did Getsuyaku-san feel some kind of... premonition
that something would happen to him?"
 "I suppose. Renka says he'd been acting strange these
past couple of days. He seemed to be lost and afraid of
something, and there would often be times like yesterday,
when he'd be dazed and unresponsive."
"It seems like Lili had the same feeling. She was very
worried about Getsuyaku-san." Karan's voice trembled at
the end of her words. Her heart pounded frantically.
A large amount of money with no identifiable source;
an utterance predicting his failure to return; his
inscrutable behaviour―it all smelled of destruction. She
could understand why Renka had become upset, unable to
bear her anxiety. Adding to this fact was that Renka had
witnessed her previous husband's sudden and mysterious
death.
The same thing will happen again.
That thought would make her fear and anxiety
burgeon. Renka's household with Getsuyaku was her small
paradise, attained at last after a hard struggle with her
daughter. For her to have it wrenched from her, for her to
lose it all again―it was too cruel.
Yoming suddenly stood up. He began pacing inside the
small store. His footsteps echoed.
"Are they linked?" His footsteps almost drowned out his
low voice, now almost a mumble.
"Hm? What did you say?"
 Yoming's feet stopped abruptly. He turned his body to
stand in front of Karan. His face was tense, but his flushed
cheeks betrayed his excitement.
"Is there a link between the incident with Getsuyaku
and the incidents in No. 6? What do you think, Karan?"
"No, why, there's no way―"
"―that could be true? Are you sure?" Yoming's eyes
harboured a feverish dull light. In a matter of minutes, his
whole countenance had changed. Or had Yoming simply
showed a side of him he had kept hidden before?
"If Getsuyaku wasn't able to come home, it wasn't from
personal reasons. You know him; if it was, he would
definitely contact his family somehow. Right now, he's in a
situation where he can't contact them even if he wanted
to. Maybe he's completely forbidden to make contact with
anyone."
"You mean he's been detained somewhere?"
"Yes. But if he was detained, there would be some kind
of notice to his family from the Security Bureau. At least,
that's how it's been up until now. But there hasn't been any
contact. If his workplace happened to be the Correctional
Facility... can't we say that maybe some abnormal incident
has occurred there?"
Correctional Facility. Safu was probably taken there,
and Shion was likely there as well.
 "It's not only the Correctional Facility... hey, Karan.
Right now, this city, No. 6, is undergoing a huge shift. You
feel it too, right?"
"Yes," Karan said hesitantly.
Yoming resumed walking. Click, click, click. His
footsteps rang out more loudly, more incessantly. "Holy
City citizens are dropping dead left and right. The
authorities aren't trying to deal with it. In fact, they can't.
No one knows what to do. This is probably the first time
something like this has happened. No. 6 was the ultimate
utopian city, called Holy City by people, even―and it's
crumbling. By tomorrow, it may be completely gone."
"Yoming, you're getting ahead of yourself. It can't
possibly be―"
"No, I know," Yoming interrupted Karan firmly, and a
smile crossed his lips. "There's a horror circling within this
city, a horror no one's experienced before. It's the horror
of having your life threatened. Soon, it'll turn into
discontent towards the city authorities. In fact, the
discontent has swelled up so much, it's probably almost
bursting by now. Citizens were used to obeying and
accepting the false prosperity thrust upon them, but now
they've woken up. They've woken up, and realized what an
unfair and confining world they've lived in. Yes, yes,
they've finally awoken. And they're nearly out of their wits
panicking. Goodness knows why they didn't try to wake up
sooner. No one tried to look at the truth."
 "Yoming..." Karan took one step back. Yoming
appeared not to notice Karan's unease. He looked like he
had forgotten about Getsuyaku and his only younger sister,
Renka, as well. Getsuyaku, Renka, Lili, and Karan. Jarred
by the tumult of his emotions, Yoming was not able to
spare a thought to any individual person around him.
Karan knew people with eyes like these.
It was a long, long time ago, when Karan was young.
No. 6 had not even developed its outline. Those people
were carried away with their words and ideals; their gazes
smouldered with passion and their voices were ablaze.
They blinded others with their brilliance, but they were
also terrifying. Humans were nowhere to be found at the
other end of their heated gaze. They discoursed of ideals,
but they were barely interested in people. Perhaps they
had not even realized that they no longer regarded the
existence of humans. They spoke of the foundation of the
ideal city as something of the near future, and yet humans
never factored into those thoughts... it was unnerving.
Karan gradually distanced herself from them. She was
afraid of being with them. She was afraid of their gaze.
Those men were people who gradually went on to build
the foundation of No. 6, and yet she found them
terrifying, unnerving, and hard to relate to.
Terrifying, unnerving...
They had similar eyes. Those men discussed the
creation of the utopian city. The man in front of her spoke
of its destruction. They stood on opposite ends, and yet
they had similar eyes.
"Karan, this is our opportunity. Our one in a thousand
chances of choking the life out of this artificial Holy City.
Who knew it would come so soon?" he chuckled. "Even
heaven has turned its back on No. 6."
Yoming stopped and began to laugh out loud. Karan
felt a chill. She felt her back tense with cold.
"Yoming... what are you thinking? What are you
planning to do?"
Yoming's eyes shifted aside, and his eyes trained on
Karan.
"What am I trying to do? Hmm... well, Karan, I guess I
can tell you everything. You're almost like one of us
anyway."
"One of you...?"
"There are many people like me in this city who have
had their family torn from them ruthlessly. You're one of
those people too, aren't you?"
She had no choice but to answer 'yes'. She had
certainly been ruthlessly and suddenly torn apart from her
son.
"It was almost impossible to make contact with each
other because the authorities were so strict with their
surveillance. It's almost a miracle that you and I were able
to meet and talk freely like this. By coincidence you
happened to be friendly with Renka as a neighbour, and
that must've worked in our favour. But with this
commotion, their surveillance should be even more lax.
The authorities have probably got their hands full dealing
with the emergency. We're going to penetrate that gap.
Just watch, Karan."
"Yoming!" Karan said shrilly. "Answer me. What are you
planning to do?"
"Shh, don't raise your voice," Yoming warned. "Be
cautious. We can't let our guard down yet. Look here,
listen carefully. Soon, I'm going to use the electronic
information network to call on the citizens. I'll tell them:
the authorities are going to watch their people die, and do
nothing about it. Instead of taking any effective steps to
battle the emergency, they're just twiddling their thumbs
and watching their citizens perish. Let's all storm the
Moondrop. We have to drag the mayor out. The higher-ups
intend to give themselves a special vaccine so that only
they survive. We can't let that happen. That's what I'll
say."
"Wait, what special vaccine? Does that exist?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know... you mean it doesn't exist, then?"
Karan said incredulously.
"We have no time to be worrying about whether it
exists or not. But don't you think it's a likely story?"
 "That's much too vague to circulate... Yoming, do you
plan on releasing a false story to cause an uproar among
the people?"
"Yes," said Yoming promptly. "The citizens' discontent is
reaching an all-time high. This will hit the spot. It's the
last drop that'll burst the entire dam. Karan, think about
it: the majority of No. 6's citizens are going to gather in
droves to the Moondrop, their faces drawn in anger and
fear. What a sight it'll be. Just thinking about it makes me
shiver in glee."
"No, stop. You mustn't do that."
"I mustn't? Why not? Why are you saying things like
that?"
"People will die." Karan looked straight into Yoming's
face and spoke slowly, as if to chew on each and every
word. Her tongue felt heavy and sluggish. A part of her
head felt numb. "Many people will die. Yoming, don't tell
me you can't imagine what will happen. What will the
authorities do to that mob of people? You shouldn't even
need to think about it; they'll try to suppress them with
brute force. No. 6―this city-state―never, ever forgives
people who rebel against it. They'll try to suppress each
and every person with the military... with military force...
Yoming, you understand, don't you? You understand, very,
very well."
Yoming looked away from Karan and sighed.
 "But if tens of thousands of citizens storm in, even the
authorities will have no way to deal with it. Only an army
would be able to handle that."
"And what if they mobilize the army?" Karan raised her
voice.
"Don't be foolish. No. 6 doesn't have an army. Every
type of military force is forbidden by the Babylon Treaty."
Yoming closed his mouth. His jaw was rigid and taut.
Karan felt like laughing.
No. 6, honour the treaty? How can you say such
rubbish when you don't even believe in it? Were you
always the sort to speak so easily what you didn't mean?
Yoming, you told me once: this city devours people
ruthlessly. Weren't you fighting against the ruthless state
who refused to treat humans like humans? Weren't you
fighting to honour people's lives?
"People will die," she repeated. And she would repeat
it as many times as she had to. "If the civilians and the
army collide, lots of... lots of blood will be spilled. You
can't let that happen. Yoming, think. All those people who
will die―they have families of their own. They have
people whom they love. They have family, like Lili here, or
Renka. You can't murder them."
"It can't be helped." Yoming's mutter put a stop to
Karan's words. For a moment, she didn't understand what
had been said to her.
"What? What did you say?"
 "Karan, the world is about to change. People will be
sacrificed, but we can't help it. Nothing will change if we
keep fearing bloodshed."
"Yoming... are you insane?"
"Am I insane? Of course not. I'm not the one that's
insane; it's them, No. 6. I've got my wits about me, and I'm
not afraid. Even if I were to lose my life now, I'd have no
regrets. I only have to accomplish what I set out to do.
Yes, I know my death won't be in vain. For the founding of
a new world, I would gladly offer my life. I'd become the
stone upon which the new world stands... a true hero."
Do you need sacrifice to found a new world? Must you
offer up lives? A world that seeks sacrificial offerings is
just the same―just the same as the Holy City you're so
desperately trying to destroy. It's not new at all. Not a
single thing will change.
She felt a tightness in her chest. Her breathing grew
ragged, her words were thrown into disarray, and she
gasped for air.
"Do you think your wife... do you think she would have
wanted you to die... all those people to die?"
"My wife... you're right, I'll finally be able to avenge
my wife and son. They're probably overjoyed."
"Yoming, your wife wouldn't want revenge. I'm sure she
definitely wouldn't want you to die. Snap out of it, please.
Peace won't come from vengeance. Hatred only gives birth
to more hatred. You have to keep living."
 Yoming's eyes hardened. Wrath flared within them.
"Karan... why are you stopping me? Are you not one of
us? Are you siding with No. 6?"
"No one said I was. I'm just―"
"Enough." Yoming strode swiftly to the door, and put a
hand on the doorknob. "Karan, I'm disappointed. I thought
we could have understood each other more. It's such a
shame. I've lost hope in you."
"Yoming," Karan protested.
"In time, you'll realize how right I was. And when that
time comes, celebrate for me. I'll forgive you."
I'm right, I'm right. There is no way I could be wrong.
Once a man completely believed that he was right, that
he would never err, he was already wrong.
"Look out for Lili and Renka for me. I probably won't
be able to see them for a while." The door opened. The
wind blew in. She could see the darkness. The sun had
already set, and a breeze crawled across the ground. The
man's tall figure disappeared into the wind and darkness.
The door closed, and only the scent of nighttime
remained.
Karan had crumpled to the floor. She covered her face
with her hands, and screwed her eyes shut. She felt dizzy.
She felt ill.
"Ma'am," called a girl's thin voice. Lili had sat up on
the sofa and was watching Karan. "What's wrong?"
 "Lili... no, it's nothing, dear."
"Really? Is there really nothing wrong?" Lili held her
hands out. Karan embraced her, blanket and all. Her tiny
body was trembling.
"It's alright, it's alright. You have nothing to worry
about. It'll be alright," she murmured slowly as if in song.
Lili's trembling stopped, and her quick breathing calmed
down again.
"Daddy isn't home yet."
"No, he isn't. He must have had a busy day at work."
"Ma'am, I'm gonna go home. I have to stay with
Mommy. I can't leave poor Mommy by herself."
"My, Lili." Yoming, do you see this? Your niece is so
young, so weak, and yet she's still concerned about her
mother. In her own way, she's trying to protect those who
are important to her. There are many children out there
like Lili. We can't make them suffer. We can't take their
loved ones away. Please, let no one be killed. Don't die,
Yoming. Don't be killed.
"Lili, your mother is asleep right now. Let her rest for
a while. We'll wait a bit, and then go and call on your
mother, alright? For now, we have to wait here for your
father."
"Here at your bakery, ma'am?"
 "Yes. We have bread here―fresh bread and milk, and a
little fruit. I know! Let's have a party with the three of us.
When your father comes home, he can join."
"A party?" Lili blinked. A faint blush crept into her
cheeks. "I'd love a party."
"Right? I can't bake a cake now, but I do have some
muffins. I also have some chocolate cookies left over, and
I think I had some marshmallows, too. Lili, would you
arrange them on a plate nicely?"
"Yeah! I'll do it, I wanna do it!"
"Then I'll leave it up to you. We'll arrange everything
nicely, get prepared for the party, and then we'll go call on
your mother together. Renka would be happy, right?"
"She'll sure be happy!" Lili said ecstatically. "Mommy
likes your muffins as much as I do... oh, Cravat!"
"Hm? Cravats?" Karan instinctively glanced at the
display case, which had barely anything left inside. She
had not sold out; rather, she had not been able to bake a
decent amount of pastries or bread in the first place. Her
usual supplier had not come. Stores everywhere had
closed their doors. She was running low on flour, sugar,
butter, and oil. If she continued without replenishing her
stock, she would run out within a few days. Karan had no
choice but to close her shop.
The distribution chain was crumbling.
 "Lili, I haven't made any cravats," she said aloud, and
realized immediately that Lili was not talking about the
pastry. It was Cravat, the small brown mouse.
"―No," Lili exhaled. Disappointment etched her face. "I
thought I saw Cravat, but it was just me."
"Do you want to see Cravat, Lili?"
"Yeah. I really like that little mouse. He has such
beautiful eyes, and he's so soft and warm when you hold
him in your hand. I like him lots and lots. Ma'am, where
does Cravat live?"
"Hmm... I wonder where."
"You don't know either, ma'am?"
"I don't, unfortunately. I have no idea."
"Oh," Lili said. "You know, I really wanna go see
Cravat's house. I feel like it would be so much fun. There
are probably lots of other little mice beside Cravat, too,
right?"
"Hmm, I think you're right. I feel like it would be like
that."
Cravat's destination and his home―that's where my
son is.
Shion, what are you doing now? How are you doing?
Are you with Nezumi? You, Nezumi, and Safu are all alive,
right? I can't do anything for you. I know I'm
undependable, but these hands don't reach far enough to
touch you.
 Live, Shion. Please cherish your life. Treat your life
and the lives of others with compassion.

Yes, of course. We will not be beaten. No matter how

dire the situation, we'll live to meet again.
"Ma'am, I'll get the plates."
"That would be great, dear. I want you to get the big
painted plate at back of the cabinet. There are tea cups
and a tea pot that match. Can you find them?"
"I will. Leave it to me!" Lili bounded up to the cabinet
on light feet.
Karan placed a hand on her chest, and quietly took
several deep breaths.
No matter what, we will survive. We'll reach the end
of our lives, not as glorious heroes whose names will
remain beyond our time, but as ones who have lived
modestly. We'll hold in our hands a life not forced upon
us, but a life we decided for ourselves.
That will be our victory.
Right, Shion? Right, Nezumi?
"How long do we have to stay like this for?" Rikiga
stifled a yawn. He fished out a flat metal bottle from his
jacket pocket. The stench of alcohol stung Inukashi's nose.
"That stinks. What's in there?" he asked as he pinched
his nose.
 "Do you want to know?" Rikiga flashed a vulgar grin,
and lightly shook the bottle. Inukashi could hear liquid
sloshing inside.
"I don't even have to ask. It stinks of cheap booze.
Ugh, that smell! Makes me wanna throw up." He pulled his
face into a scowl. It was no act. The bottle was not even
open, but the nauseating odour radiating from it assaulted
his nose.
"Don't ask if you already know," Rikiga said.
"I was bored, alright?" Inukashi retorted.
"Unfortunately for me, the only person I have to talk to is
an alcoholic geezer. Can't start a conversation without a
topic, right? I'm doing a lot of work on my end here."
"You have your dogs." Rikiga jerked his chin
underneath the desk. A large black dog was stretched out
on the floor. In a corner of the room, there were also
three dogs lounging in various comfortable positions. The
small mice were curled up and asleep on the back of a
black and white patched dog. In a way, it was a peaceful
pastoral scene.
Rikiga did not seem to take a liking to this, for he
furrowed his brow and growled.
"Take your choice of the dogs or the mice as your
conversational pals. They suit you."
"It's important for them to get their rest. I don't wanna
disturb 'em."
 "Hah, talking big, huh? As if this room wasn't small
enough with the dogs taking over the space. I'm human;
why do I have to curl up in this tiny chair?"
"It's a matter of rank."
"Rank?"
"I mean class. I'm just saying that my dogs are at a
much higher level than a drunk man blinded by greed."
"You go on saying what you will. You're just an
underdog howling about its loss." Rikiga shrugged, and
emptied the contents of the bottle into his mouth.
"Underdog? Old man, don't tell me you're waving your
white flag already. Let me tell you something: if we've
come this far and we lose, it means―" Inukashi cut himself
off, and reached for the bag on top of the desk. Rikiga
glared at him with bloodshot eyes.
"If we lose, it means what? Stop being mysterious
about it. Or have you just forgotten how to speak like a
proper human? Ha ha ha, Inukashi, you're becoming closer
to a dog every day. Soon you'll grow a tail, turn furry, and
start prowling around on your hands and feet. Ha ha ha!"
Inukashi glanced at Rikiga's flushed face, and clicked
his tongue softly.
"Become a dog? Bring it on. I couldn't wish for anything
better. If I could turn into a dog by praying, I'd pray to any
God out there." He was almost serious.
 If I were to be reincarnated, would I choose to be a
dog or a human? What would I say if someone―or even
God―asked me? I would probably puzzle over it, unable to
come up with an answer.
He could not say that humans were loftier or more
decent than dogs. Inukashi knew of both the noble souls of
dogs and the foolish hearts of humans. Dogs only sought
food enough to keep them alive, but human greed knew
no boundaries. Once a man's belly was full, he desired
wealth; when he had wealth, he desired more wealth and
power.
Were not dogs more intelligent and sound in
judgment? They knew when they were fulfilled, whereas
humans continued clawing for more and more.
Rikiga burped rudely.
"They're more intelligent than this old man, at least."
"Huh? Did you say something?"
"Nothing. I was just speaking in Dog."
"Hah. So, what was that? If we lose, what will happen
to us?"
"We'll become like Getsuyaku."
Rikiga's hand froze, his bottle poised mid-air. Whiskey
spilled from the mouth and splashed on the floor.
"We'll turn into corpses and be dragged across ground,"
Inukashi continued. "Or maybe we'll be dragged across the
ground before we become corpses. Either way, it doesn't
make much of a difference. Right?"
"Right," Rikiga answered. He twisted the cap tightly on
the bottle, and tossed it back into his pocket. He seemed
to be remembering Getsuyaku getting shot through the
chest, and his sagging cheeks began to tremble.
Rikiga was afraid of death. Inukashi didn't have the
heart to sneer at him and call him a coward. Inukashi was
afraid of death as well. He was afraid of it more than
anything.
Getsuyaku had died almost immediately, with next to
no suffering. In a sense, his last moments were lucky. For
Inukashi, who had seen countless grisly deaths, a painless
death was like a gift from heaven. If he was going to die
anyway, he wanted to die without pain. But if it was
possible for him to survive, he wanted to do anything he
could to live. If only death awaited at the end of his
suffering, he wanted none of it. But if suffering meant he
could live, he could bear it. He would endure, and live on.
He did not want to become like Getsuyaku.
I won't become like Getsuyaku. I won't let No. 6 kill
me so easily. I'd like to see them try to hunt me down.
He drew the zipper on the bag, and examined its
contents. Two foldable automatic rifles. A few grenades
and magazines of ammunition. All were outdated
secondhand items.
 "Pathetic," Inukashi muttered under his breath with a
sigh. Rikiga didn't miss it.
"If you've got complaints about it, secure us some
supplies yourself," he said indignantly. "How hard do you
think I had to work to prepare that many weapons, huh?
Tell me where in the West Block I would be able to buy the
latest photon or electric gun, or a controlled-detonation
automatic microbomb. I'd like you to introduce me to
those suppliers if you've got contacts."
"Huh, well I thought getting weapons would be nothing
with mighty Mr. Rikiga's connections and networks. I guess
I overestimated you. What a disappointment."
"Oh, there's nothing that delights me more than Eve or
you being disappointed in me. I'm telling you never to
expect anything from me again. I'd rather all the the
women in the world get sick of me than you lot having
expectations for me."
"No need to worry, the ladies are probably sick of you
already." Inukashi dismissed Rikiga's insult lightly, and
began building the automatic rifle.
"Inukashi."
"What?"
"Do you know how to use a gun?"
"We'll see."
"Have you... well, it doesn't even have to be a person.
Have you ever shot a dog or cat, even a rat?"
 "I've been shot at before, by the old butcher guy. It
was when I nicked a joint of meat. He flew into a rage and
started firing his rifle. I almost came away with a hole in
my forehead. Thank heavens I didn't."
"Well, that's unfortunate," Rikiga replied sarcastically.
"Maybe a few holes would have aired out that brain of
yours. Then you'd learn how to speak to people properly."
"Hah, well, too bad for you. As you can see, my skull is
still chock full with brains. The old butcher, on the other
hand, is probably turning into a rotting hunk of meat
under the rubble."
"Did he die during the Hunt?"
"Yeah. Looked like his arm was torn clean off. I don't
think he'd ever be able to fire a rifle with that."
Rikiga wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and
questioned Inukashi again. "So, what about you? Have you
ever fired a gun, even once?"
"No."
Rikiga's pupils darted about. His uncertainty was
apparent in his roving gaze.
"How about you, old man? Have you ever gone on a
long romp with any of these ladies?"
"...I can't say I haven't. But let me tell you, my
shooting skills are no better than a blindfolded monkey."
"Stop being modest."
 "Besides, why did Eve make us prepare this? This is the
hygiene management room. What does he plan to do,
making us wait with these weapons?"
Inukashi suddenly spun around, gun in hand. He
aligned the sight with the chest of the man sitting in front
of him, and stood poised.
"This is it, old man."
"What? H-Hey, Inukashi, what's this about?"
"This is what it's about. Relax, I won't miss. I'll send
you underground in one shot."
"H-Hey, idiot, stop it. I said stop!" Rikiga yelled, and
sprang to his feet. His momentum made him stumble, and
he fell to the floor.
"No, Inukashi. Have you gone insane? Stop!"
"Bang!" Inukashi pointed the barrel at the ceiling and
grinned. "Oops. I forgot to load it."
Rikiga looked up at him, curled up and gasping.
"Inukashi... don't you get carried away. What would
you get out of teasing me, anyway?"
"It kills time. I just wanted to give you a little scare. I
didn't realize you'd live up to my expectations this much.
This is awesome."
"Stop messing around, damnit!" Rikiga said angrily. "
I'm not going to let some doggy boy get the better of me.
I'm going home. I've had enough of being alone with you in
this stinking place. I can't take it. I'm gone." He appeared
serious, for he stood up and made for the door.
"If you take one step out that door―" Inukashi aimed
his gun again. "I'll shoot for real this time."
"It's not loaded."
"Know a joke when you hear one," Inukashi retorted.
"Sure, I might not have any shooting experience. But even
a blindfolded monkey can hit its target at point-blank
range."
Rikiga clucked his tongue. Cluck cluck cluck. Then he
looked around, and gave a sigh.
"It's dark." Rikiga's fat fingers felt for the light switch.
The lights came on; they were bright, too bright for
Inukashi's eyes which were used to being guided by the
moon or a candle. He had barely any time to blink when
his gun was violently yanked from him. He staggered, took
a step forward, and was struck across the face. For a
moment, his mind went blank. This time, Inukashi was the
one to land with his bottom on the floor.
Rikiga began to shower him with abuse.
"You good-for-nothing brat," he roared. "As soon as I'm
a little nice to you, you start thinking you're entitled to
everything."
The black dog snarled menacingly as it got to its feet.
The other dogs also acted swiftly. They circled around
Rikiga, growling softly. The mice huddled in a corner of
the room with a steady eye on the proceedings.
 "Stupid mutts, don't underestimate us humans. Come
at me, but before you do, I'll blow a hole through your
master's head."
"Wow, old man. Those were some moves. Almost as
fast as Nezumi, I'd say―but that would be giving you too
much credit. Impressive. Ah, I see you in a whole new
light now. You're a fast drunkard, aren't ya?"
"Go on saying all the crap you want. I'm actually angry
now. I'd feel so much better if I could swing two or three
punches into that face. Hmph, you better watch yourself."
"Unfortunately―" Inukashi smiled wanly, and stuck his
finger down the barrel. "There aren't any bullets in here
after all, Mr. Rikiga." Then he whistled lightly. The tension
in the dogs unravelled immediately, and they rolled onto
their sides on the spot. The black dog wagged its bushy
tail. No hint of its previous aggression remained.
"Did I go too far with my joke? Sorry, old man." He
stood up and bowed his head to Rikiga. His battered cheek
still burned.
"Goodness..." Rikiga threw his gun down onto the desk,
and collapsed into a chair like a broken marionette. "What
the hell are we doing here? In a place like this... forced to
do nothing... only to sit still and wait..."
"Can't bear it?"
"If I said I couldn't, would you laugh?"
 "Nah. I don't think I can bring myself to laugh, old
man. I'm not in the position to. Which means I feel the
same way."
"How, now. You and I are at a consensus for the first
time."
"You can say that again. This must be some kind of evil
omen. It's bad luck." Inukashi tried to make light of it, but
his mood remained gloomy. He had never expected waiting
to be so hard.
They were to wait for Nezumi and Shion in this room,
which had been Getsuyaku's workplace.
That was all he knew right now. Inukashi couldn't even
imagine how the two would arrive here. Rikiga, of course,
knew even less. Maybe even Nezumi himself wasn't sure of
the details. Yes―what if neither Nezumi nor Shion arrived?
What if they waited and waited, still waited, and were
fruitless in the end―? Stop it, don't even jinx yourself.
This will make me an underdog for sure. I don't want to
be a loser before the fight even begins.
But it was hard.
How long did he have to wait? What was about to
happen? It was hard to wait without being able to predict
the future. It was like being pricked by countless
transparent needles. It was like being broiled over an
illusory fire. His heart, which had been so jaunty when he
had set foot into the room, had now shrunken and
shrivelled like an exhausted old man. He was ashamed. He
was embarrassed. He felt lame, and he knew he was.
But...
His heart was resolute; he had prepared himself; and
yet this purposeless passing of time made doubt creep into
his decision and set will. He didn't want to quote Rikiga,
but he wanted to get out of here. He was also worried
about Shionn. It was almost time for him to wake up.
Shionn would probably cry if he woke up and didn't
see me there. Oh man, what if he's wailing for me? I wish
he would just keep sleeping forever, protected by the
dogs, but of course things aren't always going to go that
well.
He shook his head.
I can't think about Shionn. It'll make my heart weak.
It'll make me want to go running back home. I can't think
of him now. Forget him. Forget. Think... think of...
Nezumi's letter. He put a hand on his chest.
On Nezumi's scribbled note, there was but one
message which ordered them to prepare weapons to
defend themselves with.
 Would that mean they would be faced with a fight?
Would that fight be with Security Bureau officials
stationed at the Correctional Facility? But there was no
way Bureau officials would come all the way down to the
hygiene management room. The one man who had worked
in this room had been killed. He was already a corpse. No
one would have business here.
He swallowed his saliva. Wait with utmost caution.
Never let your guard down. Inukashi pounced on the wall
switch, and turned the lights off.
"Hey, what was that for? Now I can't see anything,"
Rikiga complained.
"That was bad."
"Bad? What was?"
"The lights. We turned the lights on."
"So what? When it's dark, we turn on the lights.
Electric lamps might be a luxury in the West Block, but
here in No. 6 they're commonplace."
"Dumbass, that's not what I'm talking about!" Inukashi
said testily. "What are we gonna do if someone saw that
light?"
Even in the darkness, he could see Rikiga's features
tense. Inukashi's eyes were naturally used to the dark.
Damnit, we didn't even need these lights in the first
place.
 "It'll be alright," Rikiga muttered. His voice was hoarse
and hard to hear, like he had forced it out of his throat.
"No need to get so jumpy. Stop acting like a lost rabbit.
That light was on for maybe one, two minutes max. Who
the hell is going to care if the hygiene management room
burns down? You said it yourself: this place is like
Paradise. It doesn't even have surveillance cameras."
"It has been, up until now."
On one hand, Getsuyaku had been marked as a
suspicious person, and had been shot and killed. On the
other, Nezumi and Shion had been able to infiltrate the
Correctional Facility successfully. This connection had
raised the question of whether the cleaning staff were on
the same side as the intruders, or whether they had
collaborated together.
If that was so, was not this room more of a dangerous
territory than a Paradise? It was likely that surveillance
had been tightened around the area. It was very likely.
The black dog suddenly got to its feet. It cast its eyes
around with a low growl. Its gaze quickly trained on one
point―the door. The door connecting to the Correctional
Facility. The black dog continued growling at the metal
door that only opened from the Facility side.
Shit.
Inukashi snatched a gun and hurled it at Rikiga. Rikiga
barely caught the outdated carbine in his hands. His lips
trembled.
 "Inukashi... what's going on? What's going to happen?"
"A visitor, old man. An unwanted one at that."
Thud. This time, there was a sound behind them. The
entrance. He could feel the moving presence of people
through the worn grey door.
"A pincer attack. You must be kidding me." Shit, we've
done it again. We've made another mistake. A
life-threatening one. Inukashi chewed his lip. He knew it
was useless. He could chew his lip to shreds and it would
undo none of the mistakes they had made.
Inukashi, get moving.
Nezumi's voice echoed in his ears.
A thousand regrets aren't going to open a path for
you, but one act will. Move. Just move.
Why do I hear his voice? Even at a time like this―no,
maybe it's because we're in this situation that I hear it.
Move. Search for the path to life.
Shut up, Nezumi. I've learned my own fair share of
tricks to keep myself alive.
He grasped the bag.
"This way."
He rammed his body into the door that led to the
waste collection area. The door did not budge. An alarm
went off. The metal door was opening up. He could see
the tips of military boots.
 "Inukashi, this." Rikiga touched the switch on the wall.
The doors slid sideways.
"Alright!" Inukashi roared to cheer himself on. The
dogs swarmed into the collection area behind Inukashi and
Rikiga. Hamlet and Cravat wove swiftly between their
legs.
"Ugh, it smells." Rikiga broke into a coughing fit. He
was right; there was an odour. The stench of rotting meat
juices filled the air. It was no doubt the odour from the
capsule that he had given Getsuyaku. The capsule had
been sucked in through a vacuum and brought to the
collection area along with other waste. If he had not been
shot through the chest, Getsuyaku would probably be
sorting through this pile of trash tomorrow. He would have
been at his usual job.
"Makes me want to throw up," Rikiga groaned softly. A
light flared inside Inukashi's head. He swung around to see
Security Bureau officials with guns in hand beyond the
glass. They had stormed into the small room.
One, two, three, four... four people.
"Follow me, old man."
There was a small power shovel in a corner of the
collection depot, near the waste outlet. With this,
Getsuyaku would deposit the waste onto the conveyor belt
and take it to the incinerator. Inukashi hid himself behind
the yellow-painted heavy machine.
 The lights came on, illuminating everything with a
glare.
Why do people from No. 6 hate darkness so much?
Inukashi thought idly. Why do they hate what they can't
see, places light can't reach, and the fact that darkness
exists? Why do they try to illuminate it all?
Security Bureau officials opened the door and stepped
in. Suddenly, they covered their noses and mouths with
their hands and bent over double.
"What is this?"
"It stinks."
All four of them retreated. All of their faces were
contorted. One of them fell to his knees and vomited on
the spot. Inukashi grinned in satisfaction, and still
grinning, aimed his gun.
Hah, what kind of Security Bureau officials are these?
They've got huge egos but no balls to go along with them.
I can't believe they're making such a fuss over a little
smell. Hmph, so that makes them softies as well as
crazies. Makes me laugh. You guys should all go home and
suck on your mommy's nipple.
He pulled the trigger.
An impact slammed into him. He felt like he had been
hit hard in the forehead. He tumbled backwards, and he
felt a dull stinging from his neck up.
 "Horrible. What kind of aim have you got?" Rikiga
shouted.
"Cut me some slack, it's my first time. Why don't you
try shooting, old man?"
"Never. I'm a pacifist through and through. I could
never fire at other humans, even if they're Bureau
officials."
"I'd like to see you hit your target at least two, three
times before you make a sick joke like that."
The Security Bureau officials fled desperately from the
stench. They would probably not set foot into this place
again without gas masks.
How fragile they were.
They were not civilians; they were specially trained
Security Bureau officials. Yet, they could not even endure
a mild odour like this.
But at this point in time, Inukashi wanted to thank
them rather than scorn them for their fragility. The
officials had bought them some time. He was not foolish
enough to be relieved, thinking that danger had passed.
But bought time was bought time. He could draw a breath.
But what'll I do with the time I bought?
After I catch my breath, what'll I do next?
He licked his bottom lip. His tongue ran across the dry
membrane.
 This room had only one entrance and exit: it was the
door they had come running through. The Security Bureau
officials―their enemy―were stationed outside. They were
in a sealed room. There was no escape route. Soon, those
crazy softies are going to attack us. When that happens―
The more he thought about it, the more hopeless the
situation seemed to him. But Inukashi did not give up.
We'll manage. There's no way we'll end like this. Isn't that
right, Nezumi?
He didn't know whether he was believing in Nezumi or
himself. But he knew that he believed. He believed―so he
did not give up.
We'll manage. We'll make do. We won't be finished off
like this.
"Inukashi." Rikiga grabbed his shoulder. "What are they
planning to do?"
"Huh?"
Inukashi glanced at the small room, and inhaled
sharply. He stood rooted to the spot.
The Security Bureau officials were loading in an
odd-looking device. It was about as big as the black dog
growling fiercely at his feet. One end of it fanned out
widely, and the other end narrowed to about a third of the
width. Numerous spiralled tubes extended from it, but
Inukashi could not see where they led. The body, as well
as inside the mouth of the machine was a colour between
grey and blue, and shone in the light. It reminded him of a
highly- polished brass instrument.
"What's that? A huge trumpet?" Rikiga's face relaxed
comically, but his voice was a mixture of tension and fear.
"They should have told me there was going to be a recital.
I would have worn my dress coat."
Inukashi was too on-edge to respond to Rikiga's joke.
He couldn't swallow the breath caught in his throat. The
thudding of his heart rang in his ears so loudly, he felt like
his eardrums would burst.
Various scenes in the West Block came back to him
vividly. It was right after the Hunt. His surroundings were
an expanse of rubble.
The market, where throngs of people moved to and fro
among the barracks, tents, and two-storey brick houses
that lined the street, was razed completely. All had turned
to debris.
This destruction did not come from blasting
explosives. There had been no distinctive smell of
gunpowder. He had also not seen any burns or singes.
There had been no embers, nor rising smoke. No. 6 had
not used firearms as it usually did for this Hunt. He even
felt like No. 6 had used a giant hand to crush the whole
market.
But what had No. 6 used instead of a giant hand?
"Acoustic shockwaves."
Rikiga's ear twitched."Wait, what did you just say?"
 "No. 6 used acoustic shockwaves for the Hunt. Like
spleen whales do, or sperm whales, or whatever they're
called."
"What are acoustic shockwaves? Where did the whales
come from? Can you explain it in a way I can understand?"
"I can't. I'm just repeating what Nezumi's told me. Old
man, you saw for yourself what happened to the
marketplace."
"Yeah―it was a clean sweep. The perfect model of a
cleanup. And you're saying they used acoustic shockwaves
for that?"
"Yeah."
Rikiga's eyes opened wide. They bulged so much,
Inukashi could count each capillary running along his
eyeball.
"Inukashi, so you're saying that weird trumpet―"
"It might be a smaller version of what they used in the
West Block."
Might be? Hey, Inukashi, you can't fool yourself
anymore. That has to be a miniature sound cannon. That's
what No. 6 was developing.
"And―and they're going to fire that on us?" Rikiga
bellowed.
"Don't ask me; ask them. They're the ones with the
answers."
 Rikiga growled still. Through the darkness, Inukashi
could see his face growing pale. Inukashi aimed his gun,
and fired at the blue-grey weapon of destruction before
him. This time, he did not stagger. With great effort, he
held his ground and maintained his posture.
He could not discern where the bullet had hit. Perhaps
it had not hit anything. Perhaps it had flown away into the
distance like a whimsical crow.
"Couldn't you have attached an automatic target
tracker?" he grumbled.
"Do you think the West Block would have such a luxury
item?"
"Hah, I'm sure you pinched as many pennies as you
could. Look what you've ended up with: something slightly
better than a toy."
"That's not the gun's fault. It's your aim."
They peeked out from behind the power shovel at the
small room. The Security Bureau officials were moving
busily. They showed no signs of retaliation. They did not
fire a single shot back.
They don't need to. They did not need to hit a
wretched man right before delivering his execution. That
was probably their concept.
How compassionate of them. Brings tears to my eyes.
"Inukashi, hey, Inukashi. What are we going to do? If
we go on like this, we'll be―" Rikiga yelled and ducked
down. He cradled his head and arranged himself in a
defensive position. His whole body was shaking.
There's no way I'm gonna die here. I haven't been born
into this world to die in a place like this.
Violent emotions churned in his chest. He had never
thought about why he had come into this world. Not once.
It had seemed so trivial, he had never felt the need to
think about it. To Inukashi, finding a reason for being born
was nothing more than a foolish game. He had been born
into this world, and that was why he was going to live in
it. That was it. His life was no one's but his own.
I'm going to decide whether I throw this life away or
protect it. It's no one else's business.
He fired wildly. Shooting skills? Go to hell. The glass
dividing the room and the collection area shattered with a
mighty crash. The Bureau officials' panic was apparent.
The stench had become a torrent, tiding into the small
room.
Move! Nezumi's hand thumped his back. Move,
Inukashi. Act in order to live!
Just what I was planning to do, Inukashi answered in
his head.
He sprinted up.
The black dog bounded past him and gave a great
leap. It soared through the broken window, making
straight for the Bureau officials.
-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 3
Cease from the struggle
of war's impartial contention

"Zeus-sprung son of Laërtes, Odysseus of many

devices,
hold back, cease from the struggle of war's
impartial contention,
lest wide-thundering Zeus son of Kronos be angry
against you."[1]
-Homer, The Odyssey

The door of the elevator was open by a crack. Nezumi

hooked his hand on it.
Give me strength. Please. He prayed, but not to God.
He prayed to the girl with the wilful gaze. Safu, give us
strength. A little more, just a little strength for us...
The door opened, but not by enough. They could not
escape yet. Nezumi heard laboured breathing behind him.
"Shion..."
Shion was getting to his feet. He silently stretched his
hands out, and his fingers grasped the door. They looked
at each other. Tsukiyo poked his face out of the folds of
superfibre and cried once, loudly.
Cheep!
Nezumi and Shion took that as their signal to push the
door with all their might. The gap widened so that one
person could slip through with some effort.
 The elevator careened. His feet stumbled unsteadily.
"Hurry, get out!" Nezumi pushed Shion out before
squeezing through the gap. The elevator gave an irritating
screech, which turned into a rumble. It hurtled
downwards as if it had been waiting for the two to escape
before setting off.
Nezumi closed his eyes for a moment. My gratitude,
Safu. Sweat poured down his cheeks. The wound on his leg
throbbed. His heart pounded against his pectoral muscles
from the inside.
He was in pain.
His mental and physical strength was whittled down,
crumbling off, and barely remaining. He was in pain,
yet―this pain, this throbbing, this heartbeat was nothing
less than proof that he was alive. He was still alive. Still
alive.
He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings.
He saw scattered glass shards and a wet corridor. Two
men lying dead. The black-haired soldier and Rashi were
unchanged from how Nezumi and Shion had left them.
One was lying in the corridor covered in blood, and
another was thrown out on the ground near the wall. The
barriers were gone. The sprinklers were off. There was no
human shadow or presence.
Nothing. Only Nezumi and Shion's breathing could be
heard, almost too loudly.
 Whoom. Something exploded. He spun around and saw
smoke coming out of a room at the end of the hall. It was
the room they had fallen into after destroying the
ventilation duct. Flames soon licked through the door left
ajar.
It was burning.
A similar-sounding explosion rocked them from the
floor below. He could hear the commotion and people
screaming.
The computer systems on each floor were executing
the same program of exploding and bursting into flames.
Like loyal subjects, all devices within the Correctional
Facility were following after the mother computer.
Were these machines following in their master's
footsteps, despite the fact that they had no soul? No; they
had only been programmed to do so. The mother's failure
meant death for all systems within the Correctional
Facility. They were configured to self-detonate as soon as
they stopped receiving signals from the mother. It was
nothing as lax as the information being wiped or deleted,
or the device itself going out of operation. They were
forcibly destroyed.
So were they following the master to her grave after
all? It was forced suicide. The system ended everything
along with itself. It allowed nothing to survive. Had the
creator of this system directly applied the dictator's logic?
The flames had crawled into the corridor. The heat
attacked them. Smoke filled the air thickly. None of the
extinguishing devices were operating. Neither smoke
extraction devices nor air filtration devices were working.
A system which had been so flawlessly tuned to eradicate
unwanted objects was completely useless.
"Shion, go down. We have to escape downwards."
They clambered down the stairs. Hot air blew at them
here as well. Personnel were screaming and rushing to
escape.
"Fire! It's a fire!"
"No, it was an explosion! Suddenly I couldn't control
the thing anymore. Oh, look at this mess!"
"Help me! My arm, it's been blown off―a doctor―"
"Oh, I'm so scared―we have to escape, quickly!"
"What's going on? What's the matter? Nothing seems to
work. The automatic doors aren't opening. What's wrong
with the lights?"
"Someone, this person's covered in blood. Someone,
please!"
"The smoke... it's choking me."
"We can't use the elevator. The stairs―only the stairs
are left."
It was truly a pandemonium. A mob of lab coats
stormed the stairs as each one tried to get down before
the other. Some slipped and fell on top of others. Some
tried to help their friends; others stepped over the fallen
ones and fled; some wept; some cried out directions for
the emergency route. A woman helped a bleeding man to
his feet; a man shoved a staggering woman out of his way
as he ran past her―each one showed his true colours in
this tragic scene.
An even louder explosion shook the air.
It had evidently blown a hole somewhere, for the air
began to move in a current. The smoke cleared somewhat.
If even for a moment, they could catch their breath.
Again, the same sound, and the faint roar of a crowd.
Nezumi turned around and confirmed that it had come
from the direction of the prison wing. The trapped
prisoners were causing a commotion. But if all of the
prisoners' wing had been computer-monitored, then every
door should be unlocked by now. Perhaps that noise was
the sound of the prisoners cheering and roaring at being
set free.
But if that was so...
They reached the third floor. The flames, smoke, and
confusion were more subdued than the fourth. Some
people had caught a breath on the stairwell, restored
their reason and were attempting to escape this hell by
supporting each other.
Can we keep at it and escape? Hope flared. A ray of
light pierced the darkness.
All systems had died. The Correctional Facility was
being reduced to a mere building, an empty shell with no
function. With the addition of the prisoners, the chaos was
bound to get worse.
And when that happens.... Perhaps it would be easy to
take advantage of this situation to escape. There was not
much blocking their way.
"Shion, let's go." Nezumi restrained his over-eager
heart, and grabbed Shion's wrist. Shion did not move.
"Shion!" he said urgently. "What is it? We have to get out of
here."
"Why did you kill her?" Shion muttered, barely moving
his lips. It sounded almost like a gasp. Nezumi let his hand
go, and met Shion's gaze. He could feel his blood turning
cold. He was freezing over gradually from his extremities.
"Nezumi, answer me. Why did you kill Safu?" Shion's
voice caught in his throat, and took on an unnatural murky
tone. Nezumi felt like he was listening to static-filled
music through outdated speakers.
"We― I came here to save Safu. Save her... not kill
her." Shion's whole body began to tremble, but no emotion
could be read from his face. Not agitation, nor wrath, nor
sadness, nor anguish.
"Shion, we were too late. She was already―"
"Safu was alive." Shion's murky voice jolted him
sharply. He felt like he had been slapped on the cheek.
"She was living, and standing right in front of me."
"That was an illusion. You should have known yourself.
That wasn't her. It was just an illusion."
 "No! No! No!" Shion yelled. "Safu was alive. She was
alive, and that was why she could appear in front of me.
Nezumi, I don't care what form she took. Safu was
definitely alive."
"...No matter what form, huh."
"Yeah. Safu may have lost her body, but she was alive.
She was alive and waiting for me. I needed to save her. I
should have stayed here with her. Isn't that right, Nezumi?"
Safu was alive. Was she? Had she really been? Nezumi
ground his teeth. She had been alive and waiting for
Shion. She had been waiting devotedly, just for him. She
had been alive just to see Shion once again. And her wish
had been granted.
Safu, Shion overcame hardship and danger to come to
you. You were able to meet your most beloved person.
But what you wished for next was to disappear from
Shion's sight. Yes, you wished for it.
You didn't want Shion to see you.
That was why...
"Shion, we couldn't have saved her. She and the
mother were fused together. And she... she chose to die
with it."
"Is that your reason? Your reason for murdering Safu?"
"Then what should I have done?" Nezumi yelled. His
blood, which was supposed to be frozen, boiled and raced
through his body in a hot stream. "Don't you understand
how she felt? She summoned us because she wanted to see
you. And―and couldn't you see it was because she wanted
to be saved? I don't mean escaping from the Correctional
Facility. She'd already known it was impossible. That was
why she wanted you at least to save her from that
wretched situation. You were the last person whom she
wanted to see her like that. I mean, wouldn't you feel the
same? You understand, right?"
Nezumi's breathing was erratic. Shion's expression did
not change. Not even a twitch of an eyebrow. The smoke
stung at Nezumi's eyes.
We have to run. We can't waste any more time here.
His thoughts were clear, but his feet would not move.
They quaked at Shion's eyes.
"Shion, I can't think of it as you do. We were too late.
Safu was already dead." They were his true thoughts. "You
aren't looking at reality. It would have been impossible to
separate her from the mother. She even said so herself:
she had no body, but she was still trapped. She said it
hurt, that she wanted you to set her free. She wished to
be set free from that situation, from her humiliation."
He was not wrong. Shion was the one with the wrong
idea. He was unable to accept the reality of losing Safu.
He was trying to avert his eyes from the truth.
"You used her." A low, low mutter. Nezumi did not
catch it.
"What?"
 "You used Safu to destroy the mother. Isn't that right?"
Shion's eyes shifted slowly from right to left. Tsukiyo
peeked out from the superfibre, but soon ducked back
inside again.
"Destroying the Correctional Facility was your purpose
from the very beginning. Your object was never to save
Safu, it was to destroy the Correctional Facility, and to use
it as a gateway to destroy No. 6. You were waiting for that
chance all along. That was why you didn't hesitate to
destroy the mother. You didn't hesitate at all. You used her
for your own purposes. You sacrificed her."
Nezumi stared at Shion. Used her? Didn't hesitate at
all? Sacrificed her? Shion, you really think so?
But is he wrong?
He heard a voice questioning him back. It was not
Shion's. It was his own voice. Did you not use her? Did you
not sacrifice her? Did you not prioritize your own wishes
over saving another life?
Didn't you? Didn't you? Didn't you?
Roar. Roar.
A knot of people wearing dark green shirts came
storming down the stairs, screaming. They were prisoners.
Their loud cheering hit the walls around them, bounced,
and echoed clamorously.
Roar. Roar. Get out, get out.
 "Stop! I said stop!" The Security Bureau official's orders
were drowned out by the din. Suddenly, a gunshot rang
out. A man trying to run past Nezumi careened backwards
and fell onto the floor in the corridor. He had been shot
through the head.
"Stop! Stop, or I will shoot!"
"Run! Get outta here!" the prisoners yelled. "Don't
stop! Escape! Hurry, hurry and get outta here!"
All the prisoners had bloodshot eyes. Some were
foaming at the mouth. Every one of them roared like
beasts as they ran.
To become a prisoner of the Correctional Facility
meant death. Whether guilty or not, regardless of the
severity of the crime, as soon as they were imprisoned,
they were on death row.
We're going to get killed anyway, so why not cling to
this miracle? We'll latch onto this one-in-a-million chance,
and be free.
To the outside world. To the outside world. Run to the
light.
Gunshots. Sprays of blood. A white-haired prisoner
crumpled over the railing. Gunshots, explosions, smoke,
fire.
"Shion, it's dangerous here." Nezumi grabbed Shion's
arm and yanked. He met no resistance. Shion staggered
and bumped his shoulder on the wall. He slid to the
ground, still leaning on the wall.
 "Nezumi... I'm sorry." A whimper spilled from his
bloodless lips. "I'm sorry. I―I―" Shion covered his face with
his hands, and drew several ragged breaths.
"I know," Shion said. "I know we had no choice but to
do it. You granted Safu's wish... I have no reason nor right
to blame you. It was me... I should have been the one to
do it. It was my job to set Safu free. But I couldn't. I was
scared... and I couldn't do it. I leaned on you again, thrust
everything onto you, and made you do the dirty work. I
didn't want to acknowledge my cowardice, so I blamed
you, ran you to the ground..."
Nezumi looked down at Shion's snowy hair. Despite
having been through such a hellish ordeal, it had not lost
any of its lustre. Every single hair shimmered elegantly.
"I got you involved, and even dragged Rikiga-san and
Inukashi into it... and if the result was this.... Nezumi, we
didn't come here for destruction. We came here to give
salvation. But look―"
"We came for destruction."
Shion lifted his face. It was smeared with sweat and
blood.
"You're right. I had only one purpose, and it was to
destroy the Correctional Facility. I never had plans to save
Safu from the beginning."
"Nezumi..."
Nezumi looked away from Shion. He couldn't hold the
other boy's gaze.
 "I needed you. I knew that without your memory and
judgment skills, it would be impossible to get around
inside the Facility. You were my last, and my best trump
card. I thought for a long time how I would use you, and...
this is the answer. The thing about Safu was just an
excuse. I just... used you and her to satisfy my own
purposes."
Yes, Shion, you aren't wrong. I betrayed you. I was
tricking you all along. You didn't get me involved; it was
the other way around. I set the cunning trap.
"My plan was a success. Look at this confusion. The
Correctional Facility is crumbling. Shion, I―I directed
things to proceed according to my intentions. Frankly, I
didn't expect it to turn out so well. You served your
purpose a hundred times better than I expected. You
were... really useful to me."
Shion stood up unsteadily.
"Nezumi, what are you talking about?"
"I never believed that Safu would be safe. The moment
she was imprisoned, I knew the possibility of her escape
was close to nil. Shion― saving Safu never mattered to
me. When I planted the bomb in the mother, I was only
thinking of destroying it and getting out of there as soon
as possible. That was it."
The superfibre cloth slid from his neck and fell at his
feet. Had he been bowing his head unwittingly? Nezumi
stooped to pick the fabric up, and stared intently at the
boy in front of him.
 "I'm not asking you to forgive me. It's not something I
can apologize for and be done with."
"What are you talking about?" Shion said loudly. "I'm
not getting a single word."
Really? Can you really not understand?
You're a liar, Shion. You do get it. You understand
every single word. And you'll never forgive me. You'll lose
faith in me and loathe me. Or would you―
Cheep!
Tsukiyo squeaked sharply. Nezumi felt his spine tense.
He felt like transparent arrows were stabbing into him. It
was murderous intent.
He turned around. A man stood there, aiming a gun at
him. He was not a Security Bureau official. He was one of
the soldiers who had been under Rashi's command.
Nezumi had noticed him too late.
"Shion, duck!" He shoved Shion as hard as he could.
Immediately, the impact came. A beam of light seemed to
pierce his entire body.
It scorched him.
He tried to scream.
Escape, Shion. Hurry, he thought, but no voice came
out. Somewhere― somewhere in his body, he was burning.
It was hot.
"Nezumi!"
 He could see Shion, wide-eyed. He could see clearly
the boy's screaming mouth, his extended hand, and the
shape of his fingers. The image was so vivid, it seemed
hardly real.
The vivid scene blurred, and darkness closed in.
All colour faded.

***

Raugh!
The black dog was thrown out across the floor. Its
limbs convulsed as it foamed at the mouth. The Bureau
official had propped himself up and was holding a small
gun in his hand. The black dog eventually stopped moving.
Despite its aggressive nature, it had loved to nap in the
sun. It would often lie in the sunlight much like it was
doing now, stretching its legs out. It had a temperamental
disposition, but it was loyal to Inukashi,
I'm sorry.
Inukashi cast a glance over the dog, and apologized
inside his heart. I'm sorry for putting you through this.
Forgive me.
He could see down the barrel of the gun. He could see
the hollowed cheeks of the thin-faced man who held it.
Inukashi did not flinch. He did not stop. A moment of
hesitation, a moment of confusion could cost him his life.
Once he started to move, he had to keep moving. With the
enemy before him, he had no option to cower.
He aimed his gun and fired blindly in furious
succession.
Damnit, damnit, you bastards. You arrogant
murderers. You're all cruel, dirty thieves. Give back
everything you've stolen from us. You guys have trampled
over everyone in the West Block for this whole time. You
killed people indiscriminately. You cold-blooded
murderers. Have some shame. That's right. You shameful,
despicable people. Damnit.
He mentally hurled as many insults at them as he
could. He could not voice his vilification. If only his wrath
could turn into bullets and shatter that blue-grey weapon.
Can't you give us a miracle like that for once, God?
You were quick to turn your back on the West Block, like a
mother abandoning her infant on the barren plains.
Doesn't your moral conscience bother you at all? So give
me a miracle, at least, to make up for it. Hand over that
miracle so we can survive.
His foot slipped. He lost his balance and landed on his
bottom. Bullets bounced at his feet. If he had not fallen,
he would have been shot cleanly through.
Phew, I still have some luck left.
"Don't move, filthy sewer rats." Bureau officials
pointed guns at them. Simultaneously, a nerve-racking
bass rumbled.
 "We'll exterminate you well. Be prepared."
Sewer rats? Don't you dare put me on the same level
as those lowly animals.
Inukashi tried to pull the trigger, but realized the gun
was out of bullets. He glanced at the power shovel.
What the hell are you doing behind there, old man?
The baritone rumble was issuing from the somewhat
comically wide mouth of the shockwave cannon.
Preparations seemed to be set.
What? No way. Is this it? A frigid wind blew up at him.
Is this the end? Am I gonna die here? That can't happen.
You gotta be kidding me. Nezumi, this isn't what you
promised. The whole show is gonna be ruined before the
main actors even appear. What the hell do I do now? Do
something, do anything, Nezumi!
Suddenly, the lights went out. An alarm sounded.
"What? What is it?"
"I don't know. Something's happened inside."
"Hey! Did you hear an explosion?"
"Huh? Oh, now that you mention it―"
Inukashi could feel strongly the agitation of the
officials.
"I can't see! I can't see anything in here!"
 Shrill screams, almost shrieks, echoed in the darkness.
It's the same as with the smell. They're really, really
weak. Inukashi smirked.
The people of No. 6 were so unbelievably, so laughably
weak when even a small change occurred in their clean
and comfortable environment. Perhaps soldiers would
have had a little more resistance. But the Security Bureau
officials were cowering, clearly exposing their fragility.
Look at what a loss you're all at. You build that
murder weapon with a cool face, but you're afraid of the
dark. Disgusting. Inukashi hurled abuse at them, still
sitting on his bottom. He restrained himself from rushing
out.
"Not yet. Don't rush it," he told himself.
The alarm grew louder. Its enormous volume rattled
his eardrums.
Emergency alert. Emergency alert.
Level 5, Level 5.
Emergency evacuation. Emergency evacuation.
All personnel, evacuate immediately.
Level 5, Level 5.
"Level 5!? What is it, what's going on?"
"I don't know, but we should evacuate. We have to get
out of here, or we'll be in danger."
 "Hey, there it is again. I heard it. Things are exploding
everywhere. Get out!"
"I-I wish I could, but it's so dark... why aren't the
backup lights coming on?"
"This is a trash depot. Do you think they have backup
lights?"
Now! Inukashi leapt to his feet, using his whole body
for leverage. I'm used to the dark. You'll see how different
I am from all of you.
"Bastards!" He yelled as swung his gun around. It hit
something. The dogs snarled and pounced. Inukashi
started yanking out all the pipes and cables attached to
the cannon.
Bastards. Bastards. Making crap like this. You guys
made a monster that's good for nothing but killing people.
Level 5, Level 5.
Emergency evacuation. Emergency evacuation.
"Outside! Get outside! It's dangerous in here!"
"Yeah, get out! We have to evacuate!"
The Security Bureau officials fled through the door
leading outside.
Inukashi stood, breathing heavily. Sweat poured off his
whole body. But he was shaking. He could not stop. His
teeth chattered. His heart was palpitating so badly, he had
trouble catching his breath.
 He fell to his knees as the strength left him. His dogs
approached. One with a patched coat pushed its nose up
against him. Inukashi latched on to its furry collar and
buried his face in its soft fur. It smelled like dog. He had
known this scent for as long as he could remember. It was
the scent of his mother, his siblings, and his friends. It
smelled more sweetly than any flower.
Tears spilled over. They streamed down one after
another. We're saved. We've been saved. The dog licked
away the tears on his cheeks. It's warm. Oh, it's so warm.
I'm still alive.
"I owe it to you guys. Thank you. Thanks so much."
"Inukashi..." Rikiga came crawling out through the
door of the waste collection area. "Looks like they ran
off."
"Yeesh, old man," he gave a purposely long sigh. "What
good are you gonna be now? Were you off shopping for
today's dinner or something?"
He gently brushed his tears away so Rikiga wouldn't
see them. Rikiga shrugged, and laughed softly in the dark.
"I told you, I'm a philanthropist. I'm also a born and
bred gentleman. No one is more ill-suited for killing than
me. Fortune could turn every which way, but I would
never be able to go wild and let loose like you."
"Well, you can turn right back around and never come
back again. You're just a useless drunkard even when
you're around, anyway. You'd only hold me up."
 "Nothing to be angry about," Rikiga said lightly. "Ah,
but I have to say that was an impressive fight. I have a
new regard for you now. If I were a girl, I'd have fallen for
you right there. Bravo, bravo."
Inukashi wrinkled his nose at Rikiga's applause.
"You falling for me, old man? What a horror story. You
just gave me the goosebumps. I just came out of deadly
territory, alright? I'd appreciate it if you could lay off that
stuff, it's bad for my heart. The last thing I wanna do is
keel over from fright here."
Rikiga paid no attention to Inukashi's insults. He
cupped his hand around his ear and listened intently. The
alarm stopped as abruptly as it had started.
Inukashi also pricked his ears.
He could hear something like the distant rumble of the
sea, or distant thunder.
What is it? What is that sound?
"Something's exploding inside the Correctional
Facility," Rikiga said in a queerly languid voice. "And that's
not it... I can hear screaming in there, too. It's in there.
Yeah, I can hear it."
The door connecting the Correctional Facility to the
waste processing area was still open, which was why they
could hear what was going on inside. Two spaces which
had always been firmly divided were now connected.
 "Hey, Inukashi. Is this a precursor? Is this the
beginning?" His voice quavered as it tapered off. Inukashi
could not see his face, but he knew that Rikiga was
probably flushed with excitement. He did not even need
to look. My face is probably that colour, too, Inukashi
thought. I'm excited. I'm restless.
It's beginning. It's finally beginning. It's actually
beginning.
Nezumi, Shion, you guys actually did it. I don't know
what the hell you did, but you did it. You set the alarms
off throughout the Correctional Facility. Level 5. Is that
the highest hazard level? If it was... hah, this is getting
interesting. This is gonna be fun.
Those must be gun salutes in the distance.
Inukashi had been licking his lips unwittingly.
Nezumi, that fraudulent bastard wasn't just a talker.
He did what he promised.
"You think the Correctional Facility's going to come
tumbling down?" Rikiga murmured, his voice still
trembling.
Suddenly, the lights flashed. They went out again, and
the room sank into darkness. The door closed, opened,
tried to close again, but stopped at about two-thirds of
the way.
"What is it? Is it practicing a dance?" Rikiga cracked a
lame joke. Inukashi didn't even feel like laughing.
 "Go dance along with it, old man." He was licking his
lips again. This isn't a dance. These are its last spasms. Its
last struggles before its life gives out. Just like that black
dog, the Correctional Facility is writhing in pain at the
brink of death.
"Don't tell me the whole building is going to collapse."
The excitement faded from Rikiga's voice, and uncertainty
crept in.
"All's good and well if it collapses," Inukashi replied.
"Once this place becomes a mountain of rubble, I'll be the
first to plant a memorial tree." I'll plant one for
Getsuyaku, my black dog, and the countless people who
were murdered here. A tree that'll grow huge and bloom
with pure white flowers.
"You sounded so happy the other day wishing this place
would come falling down, old man," he added.
"That was a form of expression. I don't mind the
Correctional Facility falling down, but I have a bit of a
problem with this building becoming a pile of rubble."
"Why?"
"Inukashi, think really hard about it. If this building
collapses completely, the gold bullion underground will be
buried along with it. It's going to be a hell of a lot of work
digging it back up."
Inukashi stared at Rikiga. The man's face was earnest.
"Old man... did you really believe that?"
 "What?"
"The story about the gold bullion. Do you actually
believe it's down there?"
Rikiga's eyes wandered. His throat contracted.
"Inukashi, what are you joking about now? Of course
it's there. My information sources are trustworthy. There's
no room for doubt."
"Okay, if you say so," Inukashi said indifferently. "Who
was your source again? Ann or Oon or something like that,
right?"
"Sulu, the redheaded beauty. She heard it directly
from a high official of No. 6, in bed. No doubt about it.
This tip isn't a dud."
"Is that how it goes?"
"Yeah. You might not know, since you're still a
snot-nosed kid and all you deal with are dogs. The thing
about men is that they can't lie to women after the deed.
Wives are a different story, but men don't lie to women
they buy. They don't need to."
"That's why they accidentally spill the beans about
confidential stuff they'd never talk about."
"That's right. So you do understand."
"And can you trust this Sulu woman?"
"I sure can. I pressed her over and over about whether
this story was true. Sulu said she definitely heard it. She's
sure of it, and so am I."
 "Are you two together, old man?"
"None of your business, kid. Inappropriate subject
matter for children. As a well-meaning adult, I refuse to
answer. No comment."
"Anything that comes out of your mouth is
inappropriate, old man," Inukashi retorted. "Any
well-meaning intentions of yours are probably dissolved in
alcohol by now. You're as inappropriate as adults get. I
would never want my baby around you."
"Back to the topic," Rikiga said impatiently. "How does
my relationship with Sulu have anything to do with what
we're talking about?"
"To get straight to the point, I'll just say that between
you and Nezumi, Nezumi would get girls a lot more easily.
Yeah, I think ninety-nine out of a hundred... no, all
hundred girls would rather sleep with Nezumi than you. Of
course. And I don't think Sulu is an exception."
Rikiga's brows furrowed theatrically.
"Inukashi, what are you trying to say? Stop trying to
beat around the bush. Do me a favour and be clearer
about it."
"Clearer, huh. Well, there's not much to say, anyway.
Say I'm Sulu, and I love to watch plays, and I get totally
hooked onto this good-looking actor called Eve. If he
whispered into my ear with that sultry voice of his, what
would I do? I think I'd be pretty eager to feed false
information to a certain beer-bellied old man, no matter
if he was my ex-boyfriend or not. Just a thought," Inukashi
said offhandedly.
Rikiga swallowed hard. He opened his mouth and
started panting like a dog in scorching heat.
"How―no, how―why would Eve ask Sulu to do that?
Th―there's no plausible reason―"
"To manipulate you, old man. Actually, maybe I was
part of the plan, too. He wanted to draw us in by hinting
to us about some gold bullion. It's the easiest and most
effective way. Doesn't it sound like something he'd think
of? He's unbeatable when it comes to being wily. He's
astonishingly smart. I'm actually really impressed."
Rikiga stood still and speechless for a good while.
"Inukashi... when did you realize that?"
"When? I dunno. I think from the moment I heard you
got the tip from a pretty girl, Nezumi was in the back of
my mind. Hah, I guess that means I know a little bit more
than you about Nezumi's true identity, huh? Not much to
brag about, though."
"If you knew, why did you still come? Why are you
putting your life in danger to do this?"
"Because there's gold bullion."
"Huh?"
"I actually don't know why I'm not curled up quietly in
my nest right now. I really don't know. It's just―something
I thought would never break is breaking. Something I
thought would never change is gonna be turned upside
down. It's almost as amazing as a mountain of gold. And
God's not making that miracle―humans are. An airheaded
boy and the fraud of the century. Doesn't it give you a
thrill? It gave me a thrill. That's why I decided to act on
my own. I wasn't gonna wait 'til someone changed things.
I'm gonna go ahead and do it. I wanna think that I have a
role in changing the world. Nezumi and Shion threw that
opportunity down right in front of me. They said, 'How
long do you plan on curling up there and pretending you
don't notice?' and tossed the bait in front of me. Bait that's
bigger than gold."
"And you latched onto it knowing you were being
tricked."
"I guess you can say that."
"I see... so you got in on it and tricked me, too. What
a shameful day for Almighty Mr. Rikiga. I've been strung
along by a couple of brats. I've grown old. I think it's really
hitting home now that my life is entering its retirement
stage."
"Hey man, don't be so down about it. It's just my
guess. I think it's about ninety-percent right, though.
There's always the possibility that Sulu seriously had the
hots for you, and she gave you the gift of juicy
information."
"Serious about me, huh... impossible." Rikiga gave a
great sigh, and slumped his shoulders. True to his word, he
suddenly looked like he had aged by many years. "So what
do you plan to do now?" he looked up at Inukashi, and
exhaled again.
"Me? I'm gonna wait."
"For Eve and Shion?"
"Yeah. Nezumi told me to wait here. What other
choice do I have?"
"Like a loyal dog waiting for its master."
"More like a cunning fox preying on a field mouse."
"Where are they coming back from? From that
half-open door?"
"Who knows? I can't read that far into it. I don't think
even Nezumi would know. They're gambling for all or
nothing―there's no way they can foresee that far.
Climaxes are best left in the dark, anyway. So what are
you gonna do, old man?"
Rikiga sighed yet another time. His back was hunched
and his posture was truly that of an old man, though
Inukashi wasn't sure if he was doing it on purpose.
"I'll wait," he replied. "Feeling like a loyal dog."
"Even if the gold bullion was a lie?" Inukashi was a
little surprised. He had been almost certain that Rikiga
would beeline right out of this room as soon as he found
out that the gold bullion was an illusion.
Here, you don't know what's gonna happen next.
There's no way of guessing what kind of danger is coming,
and when it'll come.
 Anyone with some smarts would get the hell outta
here and go back home. And Rikiga's not stupid. He might
be prone to wandering off, blinded by greed, but he's got
the smarts it takes to survive. If not, he wouldn't be able
to hoard money in a place like the West Block.
Rikiga only got involved in things that benefited him.
Emotions and sense of duty were not in his criteria for
taking action―only potential wealth was. This was Rikiga's
philosophy of life, and Inukashi agreed with it. That was
why he was taken by surprise.
"Why're you gonna wait, old man?" he questioned
sincerely. He was truly curious.
"Because I can't move."
"Can't move? Doesn't look like you're hurt to me."
"I'm out of breath, and my heart is palpitating. My legs
and back are shot. I have no choice but to rest here.
Besides, there's nothing to prove that you're a hundred
percent right. Sulu's tip might be a good one after all."
"You're saying Mr. Gold Bullion is just sitting on his ass
under our feet."
"Yeah. I've come this far believing in it. There's no way
I'm going to leave with nothing. If it comes to this, I'll
clean out the Correctional Facility of anything that's worth
money. And I'll get you and Eve to help. For free. I'm not
taking complaints."
Inukashi shrugged, and turned aside. He wasn't
convinced that Rikiga was telling the truth. What was he
waiting for? What was he staying behind for? Inukashi was
sure even Rikiga himself did not know the answer. He
knew at least that it was probably not because of his
palpitating heart, his shortness of breath, or the gold
bullion, which was nothing but an illusion.
So whaddaya know, the old man actually believes that
they're coming back. Inukashi meant to sneer, but ended
up compressing his lips.
Changes are happening inside the Correctional
Facility. It's almost time. They're almost coming back.
In the dark, Inukashi quietly balled his hand into a fist.

***

"It's delicious," Renka sighed. "I didn't know hot tea

could taste so nice."
"More sugar? They say sweet tea soothes you when
you're tired." Karan placed the pot of sugar in front of
Renka. It was something she had bought to celebrate the
opening of her store. It was a small and cheap pot, but it
was Karan's favourite.
Renka pinched her tear ducts.
"Karan―thank you. I'm so glad you're here. Thank you."
"Oh, Renka, don't cry." Karan placed a hand on Renka's
knee, and added strength to her tone. "You have Lili. Don't
cry. Be strong."
 Lili, who had been looking up at her mother with
concern, gripped the cup in her hands tightly. Karan knew
how harsh it was to reprimand Renka and tell her to be
strong when she was so overwhelmed with uncertainty and
exhaustion. "Be strong"; "smarten up"; "try your
hardest"―at times, words of encouragement from others
hurt the soul much more brutally than insults.
I'm at my limit. What am I supposed to try harder at?
Karan herself had come close to screaming so. How
ruthless, how shallow, how crude they were―such
superficial words of encouragement or reproach. I know.
But I have to say them.
"Renka, you have Lili and the baby in your womb.
You're a mother―you have to be strong. You could cry any
other time. But now isn't the time to let your feelings go,
is it? You have to pull yourself together."
Renka blinked, and swallowed her breath. Then, she
straightened her back.
"Yes, senpai.[1]"
"As long as you understand. Be careful next time."
"Of course."
Lili's gaze darted between her mother and Karan.
"Ma'am, you're Mommy's senpai?"
Renka gently drew her daughter's shoulder close. "Yes,
she is. My senpai in life. I'd want her to teach me a lot
more things in the future."
 "Ma'am, you must be really old."
Karan and Renka looked at each other, and burst out
laughing almost simultaneously.
"How mean of you, Lili," Karan exclaimed. "That's not
true. Your mommy and I are only―oh, we're eight years
apart. I guess I am pretty old."
"Oh, Karan!" Renka laughed, and softly brushed the
tears from her eyes. "No, Karan, I really am thankful. Who
knows what would have happened if I was alone. I would
probably be bawling from anxiety."
"You're not that weak," Karan said firmly. "You would
have gotten your strength back as a mother without me
telling you to. And―you know, Renka, this might seem like
a temporary fix, but why don't we wait a little longer for
Getsuyaku-san? I feel like it's too soon to give up hope."
Perhaps it was really just a temporary fix, something
to disguise the truth. But sometimes, you needed that
something to ease your conscience, something to mask the
grim truth. Like a spoonful of sugar in a cup of tea.
Renka put her cup down, and nodded slowly.
"Yes, yes... you're right. It's too soon to give up hope...
absolutely right. I'll wait for him a little longer. Maybe he'll
come home tomorrow."
"Right." Karan almost sighed. As long as Renka could
not confirm Getsuyaku's safety, she would have to keep
waiting for her husband, and Lili for her father.
 It was too soon to lose hope. Yet hope without
direction was a painful thing.
Karan felt Renka clasp her hand. Renka's fingers were
warm and soft.
"Karan, I won't be defeated. Even if by some chance,
he doesn't―Getsuyaku doesn't come home... the two of us
will live―no, the three of us will live together. I'm going to
give birth to Getsuyaku's child. I'll have his baby, and I'll
raise it proper."
Strength shone in Renka's gaze. No hint of her previous
tears remained.
"I have people like you who support me, so I'll be
alright. I'll do what I have to do. I'm a mother, after all."
"Renka!" Karan circled her arms around Renka's slender
neck. "You're an incredible mother. The best."
Look at us, Fate. Look how strong we can be. We
won't be swallowed up. We'll hold our ground and keep on
living. O Fate, No. 6, we won't submit; we won't be
trampled on.
"Karan, there's one other person I'm actually
concerned about." Renka's tone turned heavy.
"Yoming, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's my brother... I'm wondering what he's trying
to do. I just have this nagging feeling that―has he come
here?"
"Yes, he has."
 "What was he like?"
"Well, let me see... he seemed to be worked up."
They heard a scream. It was from outside; it came
from the direction of the front entrance. It was followed
by what sounded like someone falling down. Karan stood
up and hastened to the door. She peered through the
blinds. A group of men were squatting under a street
lamp. A chubby woman was cradling one of the men in her
arms. Karan remembered her. Her name was Koka, and she
ran a tavern. The young man in her arms looked like her
second son. He was a boisterous youth and a spitting
image of his mother, and was dedicated to his job at the
tavern and helping his mother out. Once in a while, he
dropped by Karan's shop. Last time, he had bought all the
butter rolls on the shelf, laughing and saying it was
because his mother adored them. Karan did not know his
real name, but she remembered hearing him being called
"Good Guy Appa".
Half of Appa's face was covered in blood, and he was
slumped against his mother's arm with his eyes closed. He
did not stir. He did not seem to be breathing.
Karan burst out into the street.
"Koka, what's the matter?"
"Oh, Karan! My son―they got my son."
"Who did it?"
One of the men swung his fist in the air. "The army.
The army shot at us with guns."
 Karan felt a jolt as if she had been hit by lightning.
She thought for a minute that she had been the one to
collapse noisily on the road. But in reality, she had clasped
her hands tightly together, willed her legs to stand fast,
and was holding her ground.
I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.
"Army? What are you talking about? There's no such
thing as an army!" Koka wailed through her tears.
"There wasn't supposed to be, but there was. They
weren't dressed like Security Bureau officials. They were
in military gear. And―and those guys, they... they started
firing at us..."
"Wait!" Karan said sharply. "Give me more details. You
went to city hall, didn't you?"
"Yeah. There was a summons through the Internet. We
were on the move because of it."
"A summons..."
"It was about this scary, mysterious illness. All these
citizens are dying, and yet the authorities aren't doing
anything. And get this―the mayor and all the big-shots
have vaccinated themselves already, and plan to abandon
the rest of us. How could we let that pass? That's why we
stormed the Moondrop. You should have seen the amount
of people there. It looked like they came out from all over
the city. Even Chronos residents. We formed one huge mob
and headed for the Moondrop. Our plan was to get inside
and see the mayor. That's what the message told us to do.
It told us to protect our own lives, and get our hands on
that vaccine. And that wasn't the only thing."
The man swallowed, and shook his fist even more
furiously.
"We've been mistreated all this time. Our living
conditions aren't even half as good―no, even a tenth as
good―as people living in Chronos. Even though we're the
same citizens. All this time we'd given up, thinking it
couldn't be helped. We all thought we had no choice but
to bear with it. But I've had enough of that. A horrible
disease is going around right now; I'm not gonna be left
behind with no means of dealing with it."
Another man got to his feet. Blood soaked through the
cloth wrapped around his forehead.
"Yeah, that's right! Some consideration they must have
for us!"
"Let me hear your story properly," Karan said. "So you
all stormed the Moondrop. There were a lot of people, and
the army suddenly materialized there. Is that what you're
saying?"
"That's right. I was surprised, I tell ya. They even had
tanks. It was a weird kind of vehicle with a dull gold
colour. I think they're called tanks, at least. First time in
my life I've seen them... but I'm pretty sure. And in front
of them, a huge row of armed soldiers were lined up...
lined up, saying, 'This is a warning. Vacate this area
immediately.' And they repeated it a couple times. 'This is
a warning. Vacate this area immediately.'"
 Fear flashed in the man's eyes.
"We didn't leave, though, obviously. Some people tried
to escape, but a lot of others were screaming to keep
pressing forward. So we just―I mean, we never expected
to be attacked. We're citizens. And like I said, the people
there weren't only from Lost Town or other districts;
Chronos residents were there as well. Elites, and their
families. I never even considered... that the city would
use military force against its people."
"But the city did," Karan said softly. All too easily, it
had pulled the trigger at its citizens.
Judgment for those who do not obey.
Punishment for those who do not submit.
No. 6 had exposed its true colours. It had flung off the
costume it had been donning so cleverly until now.
Death to those who are not meek.
A penalty to those who rebel.
"Appa was beside me when he was shot, right through
the head. He didn't even make a noise, he just fell...
everyone fell into a panic, and started trying to get out of
there all at once. Oh, you wouldn't believe. We took turns
carrying Appa... and we ran out of there as fast as we
could. When we came to, we were sitting here..."
Koka lifted her face to the heavens and cried out.
 "Oh, my son is going cold! Why! Why did this have to
happen? My son!" Her anguished cries did not ring out, but
were sucked into the night sky.
"Hey! It looks like people are gathering in front of the
Moondrop again." A man who had been staring at his
mobile computer raise a bellow like a battle cry. Everyone
except Koka glanced back at him.
"Looks like there are two―no, three times as many
people this time. They're all coming out to get the
vaccine. With this many people, neither the Security
Bureau nor the army would be able to do anything. They
can't just massacre all the citizens. Now is the time to ask
the mayor to come out of the Moondrop so we can hold a
discussion."
"Everyone is gathering... is that true?"
"Yeah. The people are coming together again, and this
time they're going to use force to drag the mayor out. This
is our first chance, and our last. Now is the time. This is
it." The man's voice cracked, and his eyes roved over the
computer screen.
"Yes, now."
"Let's head out one more time. We can't let Appa's
death go to waste. If we withdraw now, what would Appa
have given up his life for?"
"It's not only Appa. My cousin and my mother are dead,
too, from that disease. We can't let the souls of the dead
go unrequited."
 "My younger sister died, too. She was gone so fast. Can
you imagine how angry I was? If only I had the vaccine, if
only the city had dealt with this faster, she wouldn't have
had to die."
"Right, let's go."
"Yeah!"
The men rose at once. They looked at each other, then
broke into a run. Only the woman and the dead man
remained.
"My son is dead. He's left on a journey alone without
me," Koka continued to lament. Her voice travelled across
the ground and crawled up Karan's feet.
I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. People have died. Even
more people will die in the near future.
"Karan," Renka said in a trembling voice from behind.
"What's going to happen? The summons over the Internet...
is that what my brother is doing?"
Karan turned around and gripped Renka's shoulder.
"Renka, how do I get in contact with Yoming? Is there
any way?"
Renka promptly shook her head. "No. I can't get
through to his cell phone or e-mail. I think he's refusing
contact."
"I see..."
"Mommy? Ma'am?" Lili extended her hand straight out,
and pointed down the path. Shadowy figures appeared
from alleyways everywhere, and were forming a black
mob.
"To city hall, to the Moondrop."
"We have to get the vaccine."
"They can't just watch us die."
"Yeah! Is that what they're expecting from us?"
"Come on, everyone. Get together!"
Yelling and footsteps clashed and mingled, and
became a roar. Where in the city had this energy lain
dormant?
God, everyone in this damn city is so obedient and
naive, Yoming had once muttered. They did not even have
the energy to doubt orders from higher-ups. They don't try
to think. They just go with the path of least resistance,
he had spat, his words full of frustration and contempt.
But now, the ground radiated with heat from the
people, and was a step away from exploding. Such
enormous energy had lain hidden inside them all along.
No. 6 was not supposed to have any hint of unrest,
discontent, or anxiety. But this was what had been swirling
in its depths. What had flowed hidden deep underground
was about to erupt. It was like a miracle.
Maybe this world will really change. Maybe―but no.
This isn't it. It's different. Not right. A miracle wrapped in
blood and anguish is no miracle.
 Yoming had predicted No. 6's fall. He had cried for the
Holy City's destruction. But he had not spoken a single
word about creation. He had not expressed a specific
vision for what kind of world he wanted to realize here,
what he aimed to create after No. 6 had ceased to exist.
Not a single word.
Karan put her hand to her heart, which was pounding
frantically.
Koka's cry of mourning was swallowed up in the din,
and shattered to pieces. It reached no one's ears.
"Renka, go back inside the shop, please. Lock the door
and stay in the back room with Lili."
"How about you, ma'am?"
Karan crouched in front of Lili.
"I'm going to take Koka home. I'll be back soon. You
take care of your mother while I'm gone, alright?"
"Alright!"
She kissed Lili on the cheek. Then, for a moment, she
closed her eyes. A vision of Shion's smile graced the back
of her eyelids. Karan drew a breath of the nighttime air
deep into her chest, and opened her eyes.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 4
To the evening breeze
 For more than a thousand years sad Ophelia
Has passed, a white phantom, down the long black
river;
For more than a thousand years her sweet
madness
Has murmured its romance to the evening
breeze.[1]
-Arthur Rimbaud, "Ophelia"

Nezumi fell very slowly and quietly. It was like watching a

slow-motion film. An ancient, monochromatic film...
A dull impact hit his chest. Nezumi had fallen on him.
Shion caught the boy's weight and heat in his arms.
Suddenly, the black-and-white screen regained its
repulsive colours of reality.
Nezumi collapsed in Shion's arms, letting his whole
body weigh down on them. The stench of blood assaulted
Shion's nose.
Nezumi...
But no voice came out. He could not understand what
had happened. He just could not. What is it? What just
happened? Soldiers were pointing their guns at them.
Rifles. The bayonets attached to them shone starkly
white. One of the soldiers let his tongue peek out from
between his lips.
A new wave of prisoners came in a torrent down the
stairs. They formed a blockade between the soldiers and
Shion. Of them, a bald, gigantic man gave a short cry. He
staggered, clutching his chest.
"Damnit... you've done it now." The giant took two,
three steps towards a soldier and suddenly let out a great
roar. "Goddamnit!"
The giant lunged at the soldier. At the same time,
there was an explosion. Smoke and flames burst from the
monitoring room near the stairs. Shion saw the soldier
being flung to the wall by the blast. White smoke rapidly
filled the corridor. Like a giant white snake, it slithered up
the stairs and crawled down the hall.
Shion hoisted Nezumi up, and made for the end of the
hallway. In regards to the movement of the smoke, the
typical way to escape was probably downstairs. But down
this hall was the Hygiene Management department.
The Hygiene Management Department. From the
layout, Shion guessed that a simple medical examination
room had been built adjacent to it. He stepped in through
the door, which had been left flung open. He closed it to
prevent further smoke and flames from filtering in.
He tripped. Nezumi's body nearly slipped from his
grasp. Shion attempted to catch him, but fell down with
him in a tangle. He instinctively thrust his palms out, and
noticed they had left red hand prints on the floor. His
palms were dyed with blood―with Nezumi's blood.
"Nezumi!"
 He couldn't help but raise his voice. Words were
tearing through his throat and streaming forth.
"Nezumi, can you hear me? Nezumi!"
Nezumi's eyes remained closed, and he remained
unresponsive. The blood had spread from his shoulder,
stained his chest, streamed down his arm, and was
dripping from his fingertips.
"No, how―how can this―" He knew that he could not
lose his wits. He had to be rational. He had to calmly carry
out what he had to do.
I know. Of course I do. But I can't move. My mind and
my body are frozen still.
"Nezumi, Nezumi. Please, open your eyes." He gritted
his teeth.
You dumbass. He heard a scolding voice. You're a
helpless idiot. Useless, good-for-nothing. You're bigheaded
and slow and cowardly.
Inukashi? Is that you?
Can't you even protect your most precious person? Can
you only cry without even trying to save him? What do you
have to show for being with Nezumi all this time, then?
Are you still the same spoiled elite as you were in No. 6?
He could not tell if it was Inukashi's voice or his own,
but someone was giving him a severe reprimand.
Shion, are you sure? Would you be indifferent if you
lost Nezumi? Would you even be able to bear it?
 Shion drew a deep breath. The smell of blood reached
all the way into his chest. He brought his ear close to
Nezumi's lips and checked his breathing. He took Nezumi's
pulse by placing his fingers on the boy's wrist. He felt
blood throbbing against his fingertips, but it was a faint
pulse that seemed close to disappearing anytime now.
Shion stood up and glanced around the room. Thin
flames and smoke issued from the instrument panel in the
centre. There was a cabinet against the wall beyond with
glass doors. The glass had been broken, and plastic bottles
lay tipped over. Some had loosened caps, or the bottles
themselves had been damaged, for the contents were
leaking. Shion drew closer, but smelled nothing strange.
Hand-written labels were fixed to each bottle with the
name of the drug. Shion would perhaps have smiled at the
rounded handwriting if he had seen them in a normal
situation. He would have smiled unwittingly at the idea of
someone handwriting labels in such an inhuman-like place
like the Correctional Facility, instead of using printed
labels.
But now, he had no room in his thoughts for that.
Shion went through all the labels one by one. He
suppressed his agitated heart, and told himself to calm
down over and over, like a mantra.
Disinfectant; hemostatic agent; painkillers; purified
water; general syringe; hemostatic clamp; gauze;
absorbent cotton pads... in a corner of the shelf, there
was an emergency flashlight tipped over on its side. As he
expected, there was an adequate range of drugs and
apparatuses for simple medical treatment.
Would he be able to manage something with these? A
minor injury would have been no problem; but would he
be able to treat a wound so severe it had caused the
patient to suffer massive blood loss and loss of
consciousness?
Most of Shion's medical knowledge was theoretical. He
had almost no practical experience. In this situation,
furthermore, how well could he give emergency
treatment? Could he do it? He felt like the bayonet he had
seen just now was being held to his throat.
Can you do it?
I've got to. There's no time to hesitate. I can't just sit
idle and trouble myself over it. I can't let Nezumi be
stolen from me so easily, without a struggle. I won't hand
him over to you.
"Nezumi, you can hear me, right? I know my voice is
getting to you."
There's no way you can't hear me. There's no way my
voice won't reach you. No matter when or what situation,
you always caught my words firmly, You heard me through
the noise, you grasped my words, and you answered me.
You came back to me. This time, I'm going to bring you
back. I'll take you back by force.
"Nezumi!"
 Shion tore the other's clothes. The bullet had pierced
him below the left shoulder through his upper arm. If the
shot had been a little further inwards, the bullet would
have pierced his heart and he would have died instantly.
Live. Cling onto life. Heaven left that possibility for
you. I won't let it go to waste. First things first, I have to
stop the bleeding. My priority right now is to stop this
blood. Then, I have to take him to a place where he can
get proper treatment. Quickly, even a second sooner. Just
that.
He illuminated the affected spot with a flashlight. He
sprinkled disinfectant on the wound. He washed the
wound from the inside outwards, and he examined the
inside with his naked eye. The artery was not severed
completely. He applied pressure on Nezumi's collarbone
and temporarily controlled the bleeding. His fingertips
were trembling.
Calm down calm down, calm down. I have to calm
down. Banish all your emotions, and focus only on the
bullet wound that's penetrated him.
He pinched the artery with the hemostatic clamp,
placed gauze on it, and pressed over it with an absorbent
cotton pad. He wrapped a bandage tightly around it.
This is the best treatment I can give him right now.
He had broken into a sweat, which formed droplets
and streamed down his face. They seeped into his mouth,
and left a bitter taste on his tongue.
 How long will he last with this? Three hours―no, more
like two, considering how much he's bled. If Nezumi
doesn't get proper treatment within two hours from now,
he won't make it.
Time limit: 120 minutes.
"Ugh..." Nezumi groaned softly. His eyelids fluttered
slightly.
"Nezumi! Can you hear me? Nezumi!"
"...Shion..." he mumbled.
"Just a little longer. I need you to bear with me. I'm
taking you to the hospital. Hang in there, and stay with
me." He instilled as much strength as he could into his
words.
"...Shion... I can't... move..."
"No problem. I'll carry you." I'm here. I'm right here. So
you'll be alright. Shion slung Nezumi's arm around his
neck, and hoisted him up. He circled his arm around the
boy's waist to secure him, and stepped out into the
hallway.
The smoke stung his eyes. He dissolved into a fit of
coughs. Pain raced through his throat, and his airway
clogged up.
He had no survival knowledge, but he had the will,
and his heart was prepared to do whatever it took.
Nezumi had taught him plenty about that.
 Shion crouched, and dragged Nezumi almost at a
crawl. Heat and smoke swirled around them on the stairs.
It was too dangerous to jump into this. But there was no
time to survey other escape routes. If they dallied here,
they would be engulfed by the smoke, and die of
suffocation.
What do I do? What should I do​?
His mounting agitation and the smoke that crept into
his body almost made him lose his calm. Don't panic.
Whatever you do, don't panic. There is always a way.
"Shion..."
Nezumi shifted his body. "Get out... through the
garbage chute..."
His voice reached Shion in fragments. He could tell
that Nezumi was clinging desperately onto his
consciousness. Once he lost it, it would be more difficult
than ever to wake up again; Nezumi knew this all too well.
Garbage chute. Right, there was that option.
In the lower floors like the first to third, a garbage
chute was installed in the middle of the hallway on each
floor. It looked like small apparatuses were discarded
there along with everyday waste, for the chute was quite
wide. The first time Shion had found this out, the idea of
using the chute to infiltrate the Facility had crossed his
mind. But the idea was short-lived. It was impossible to
climb up a chute almost perpendicular to the ground with
no footholds whatsoever. Also, the chute was programmed
to sense and set alarms off at any strange objects
protruding from the openings. Infiltration was impossible.
But it was possible to use it as an escape route.
He and Nezumi had talked about it before. It was―two
days before the Hunt.
The day of the Hunt had been a cold winter day with a
blustering wind, but two days before, it had been sunny
with milder weather. A blue sky spread out above the West
Block instead of snow clouds, and the rays that shone
down were so warm that it was hard to believe it was
winter. People seemed to be making the most of this short
bout of pleasant weather, and strolled down the
marketplace at a leisurely pace. Old beggars and starving
children still overflowed in the streets as usual, but they
seemed to breathe easier than most days. The
shopkeepers, who would usually drive them away in a
spiteful and unforgiving way, narrowed their eyes at the
sun and let their faces relax. They didn't go so far as to
give hand-outs, but they seemed to be willing to turn a
blind eye to the beggars as long as they didn't steal any of
their goods. Some even joked with familiar beggars.
Out of them, how many could have foreseen the hell
that unfolded two days later? How many could have
escaped the inferno of the Hunt?
Nezumi and Shion had been dining on hard bread they
had bought at the market, soaking it in hot water first.
Perhaps Nezumi's smile had done the trick; the female
head baker had given them some cheese for free. It was
superb cheese, free of mould.
 There was no sound in the basement room except for
the voices of the two boys. Strangely, even the howl of the
north wind which had begun to blow around sunset did not
find its way here. Had the wind died down during that
time? Or had Shion been so engrossed in the conversation
that his ears had refused to catch anything other than
Nezumi's voice?
"Shion, the garbage chute could be an escape route. Is
it doable?" Nezumi asked, turning his cup of hot water in
his hands.
"The garbage chute, huh... I see, it's like having a road
that leads straight from the third floor to the meeting
place in the basement."
"Yeah. From the blueprint, I'm guessing the entire
chute apart from the openings probably isn't integrated
into the object-detection and disposal system. Heh, seems
like No. 6 is lax all over the place when it comes to its
waste disposal facilities."
"You're right," Shion had replied. "And it's bigger than a
typical chute. Technically, we should be able to get
through."
"Exactly. Aren't you glad we both happened to be
skinny? If any of us had been around old man Rikiga's size,
we'd get stuck in the middle. Oversized garbage, indeed."
"That sounds a bit severe."
 "You're welcome. I'm just telling the truth. You tell me
if you can imagine that beer-bellied geezer hurtling down
the chute like it's nothing."
"Well―I guess you're right." The image of Rikiga with
his fleshy underbelly rose in Shion's mind, and he almost
burst out laughing. He swallowed it back down, and
pursed his lips. Nezumi's question was not the kind he
could answer with a smile.
Was the garbage chute a plausible escape route or
not? After some moments of thought, Shion spoke.
"To tell you the truth, I have no idea if we can really
do it. But there's a possibility. All theory, just saying," he
answered. Nezumi put his cup down, and sank deeply into
his seat.
"Possibility, huh."
"Yeah."
"There is a possibility, then." Nezumi crossed his legs,
and closed his eyes. Shion also leaned back against the
bookshelf and hugged one knee. It was then that Shion
noticed the sound of the wind for the first time. It was a
raspy sound, similar to an old woman's hushed weeping.
The room dimly lit by a lamp; Nezumi's meditating
profile; the low rumble of the wind―he felt like he was
looking at a scene from a play.
Shion was sitting in the audience, eyes fixed to the
silent tableau on the darkened stage before him. A
fulfilled comfort, a wistfulness, and an emotion close to
awe, along with others he couldn't name, mixed, tangled
with each other, and filled Shion to the brim.
If only this moment could last forever. If only time
would stop right at this moment. If only my entire world
consisted of the things right here. The wish rose suddenly
in his heart.
"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player." A line
from Macbeth suddenly rose in his mind.
"Out, out, brief candle."
"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player."
Nezumi opened his eyes. His gaze tangled with Shion's
own.
"What?"
"Huh? No, nothing..." Shion shifted his body, and
backed away slightly from the lamplight. He did not want
Nezumi to see his cheeks, which were probably flushed
red.
"Shion, do you know what I was thinking about just
now?"
"You? Well... the garbage chute, probably?"
"Of course not. I'm not gonna trouble myself over trash
forever. Besides, we solved that problem. It's possible,
which means it's worth a shot. So far so good?"
"Right." It didn't matter if it was only theory. No
matter if the idea was nothing more than speculation; if
it's possible, you have to drill it into your mind― that was
what Nezumi was telling him. Shion nodded slowly as a
sign that he understood.
"Good. But if you ask me, I'd rather make my gracious
exit at the front door, complete with all the
accompaniments. But that's a luxury I probably won't
have."
"Probably not. I'd warn you not to expect VIP
treatment. So, if you weren't thinking about the garbage
chute, what were you thinking about? Other ways to
escape?"
Nezumi re-crossed his legs, and let out a doleful sigh.
"I was thinking about food."
"Huh?"
"Food. F-o-o-d. I was thinking about what I'd order if I
could stuff myself with whatever I liked."
"―Materialistic of you, huh?" Shion commented.
"Food is important. Sometimes, a roll that an old
baker man has slapped together is much more meaningful
than an eternal truth discovered by an esteemed
philosopher. That's the nature of life. Anyway, right now
I'm so hungry I'm starting to feel sorry for myself. I
probably won't be able to sleep if I went to bed now."
"You just ate. You ate two rolls."
"Rock-hard, withered bread, hot water and a piece of
cheese is not nearly enough."
 "Don't be greedy," Shion said sternly. "Thanks to that
madam at the bakery, we were able to get our hands on
some good cheese. It was a pretty decent dinner."
"If only you'd been a bit more friendly, and we
probably could have gotten some canned lamb or a bottle
of milk on top. Shame."
"Me? I've got nothing to do with it."
"What're you saying? You've got everything to do with
it. You should have seen the way that lady was looking at
you. I thought you were ignoring her on purpose. Don't tell
me you actually didn't notice!"
"I had no idea."
Nezumi grimaced at him and shook his head. "Shion,
you need to brush up a little―no, forget that, a lot― on
your perceptions of the other sex. If you don't do it soon,
things'll get pretty bad."
"What do you mean, bad?"
"So bad I can't put it into words. You won't hear
anything from me, at least. Oh, but geez, that's serious.
Just thinking about it gives me the goosebumps."
"What are you talking about?" Shion asked in
annoyance. "Now you're making me curious. It would
probably keep me up if I went to bed now. My curiosity
and your hunger would make a good contest."
 Nezumi laughed out loud, which was unusual for him.
His laughter was carefree and full of delight. It entered
into Shion quietly, and deeply.
"Nezumi."
"What?"
"Can you recite Macbeth?"
"Macbeth? Which part?"
"Act Five Scene Five, right after Macbeth is told about
his wife's death."
"Why Macbeth?"
"I dunno," Shion replied. "I wonder why. I just suddenly
wanted to hear you do Macbeth. Won't you?"
"Well, I don't mind."
Hamlet and Tsukiyo climbed up onto Shion's shoulder.
Nezumi's voice, serene yet wrung with sorrow, reached
Shion's ears.
"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle.
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player. . ."
Shion and the mice listened entranced with bated
breath. The flame of the lamp wavered, and their shadows
wavered also. Shadows also etched themselves into
Nezumi's voice and expression, and Shion felt himself
being lifted out of reality and taken up to the heights. A
fleeting levity; eternal fulfilment. How rich, how plentiful
and beautiful were these hours that passed.
Two days before the Hunt, in that room was the scene
which left an impression like no other in Shion's life. What
took place only a while ago felt like something of days
long past.
Tears spilled over.
It was the smoke, and not because his heart had been
torn in nostalgia.
Cheep-cheep, cheep-cheep, chit chit chit. Tsukiyo
alighted on the floor, and squeaked incessantly. The
superfibre had fallen to the ground. Shion stooped
abruptly to pick it up. The strength left Nezumi's body,
and his weight bore down on Shion's shoulder.
"Nezumi, hang in there. Stay awake."
"...Get out of here... hurry..."
"I know. Even I wouldn't take a rest here. Nezumi,
we're almost there. Bear with me for a bit longer."
"Shion... we can't. Not... with two of us."
"Huh? What're you talking about?"
"Run... on your own... just run."
"Idiot!" Shion snapped. "Don't give me that crap!"
Anger reared inside him. It was wrath toward Nezumi. He
felt like his white hair was standing on end. Scorched air
blew not only from outside, but from within Shion as well.
 Telling me to leave without you? That I should just
escape by myself? Don't give me that. Don't you dare. Is
that how much you look down on me? How little you think
of me? I'm not so weak that I'll leave you and choose the
path of my own survival. I can protect us, you know. I
have enough strength to protect you and me.
"Don't underestimate me, damnit," he said angrily.
Anger swiftly transformed into energy to press
forward. He willed strength into his arms, and glared
ahead. The place was void of any human presence. Shion
felt a slight breeze. The flames began to lick the ceiling.
Some chemical had apparently caught fire, for there was a
small explosion, followed by a characteristic sharp odour.
"Tsukiyo, come on."
Tsukiyo dove into his pocket. He poked his head out,
and emitted high-pitched squeaks. To Shion, it sounded
like the orders of a navigator, and he felt encouraged. He
had to escape even a second sooner, also for the sake of
this tiny creature who kept up its cries even through its
shortness of breath.
He tripped on something and almost fell over. A giant
of a prisoner was lying face-down on the floor. He had
died with his face in a pool of his own blood. Shion
stepped over his body, and continued forward.
Stairs here, which means the location of the garbage
chute is.... He recalled the accurate details of the
floorplan which he had drilled into his mind. He traced it
in his memory. It was in a corner of the hall, where the
smoke was billowing now. He nudged Tsukiyo's head back
into his pocket with the tip of his finger.
"Nezumi." We're going in. Shion held his breath, and
plunged into the smoke. He had neither time nor way to
check the opening of the chute. His field of vision in this
smoky corridor was close to zero metres. A slight
hesitation, and he would meet his end through
suffocation.
Believe. Believe in yourself. If you're gonna cling,
cling to yourself.
His feet stopped. He could see the opening of the
garbage chute. A soldier was slumped against it as if to
block his way. His legs were thrown out, and he lay still
with his eyes half-open. His neck was twisted at a queer
angle. His rifle, which he had apparently held fast onto
even while being blasted by the explosion, sat in his lap.
The same rifle which had shot Nezumi.
Shion did not feel any sort of emotion rise toward this
soldier. No hatred, nor ire, nor pity. Not even respect for
one who had died. The thing in front of him was not a
human body; it was but an obstacle. Shion had to think
that way, or else he could not survive. It's just an
obstacle.
He kicked the soldier.
The soldier's body rolled over, its neck still bent at an
odd angle. The opening revealed itself fully. It hurts. I
can't breathe. My throat is burning. I want air. His veins
swelled. His heart was wreaking havoc in his chest.
Strength began to leave him. Damnit, I've come this far; I
won't give in now. I've come so far...
Nezumi. What? Can you recite Macbeth? Macbeth?
Which part? Act Five Scene Five....
The wind was howling. The flame was flickering. And I
desperately wanted to hear you recite that line. I don't
know why. Maybe I just wanted to lend my ears to your
voice, and immerse myself in your breathing. As I listened
to Macbeth tread the path to destruction, I felt elevated;
I was fulfilled.
"Out, out, brief candle.
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player. . ."
Nezumi, we're going home. We're going back to that
room. We can't turn back time, but we can create it anew.
Usually, the garbage chute was programmed to open
automatically when it sensed someone standing it front of
it. Of course, right now it did not move at all. Once Shion
laid Nezumi down, he grabbed a rifle and fired the whole
round of shots into the opening of the chute. The lid blew
into smithereens.
A black square void yawned at him. Triumph pierced
his body.
Nezumi, we're almost there. Almost there. He wanted
to call out to Nezumi, but he couldn't speak out loud
anymore. He wrapped Nezumi in his superfibre cloth. If he
could, he wanted to slide down the chute while holding
Nezumi, but the chute was too narrow. It was wide enough
for just one person.
Shion heaved Nezumi up, and stuck him into the chute
feet-first. Shion slid in after him, and he gripped the
opening with his left hand while he secured Nezumi's head
to his belly with his right. He could feel vibrations from
the explosions. The wind roared.
Shion closed his eyes and released the grip on his left
hand. Two bodies slid down the perpendicular chute.

***

"Ow!" Inukashi yelled. He had been bitten on the

earlobe. "The hell was that? That hurt. You freaking rats."
With a hand to his ear, Inukashi glared at the two mice
perched side-by-side.
"I guess calling you guys rats doesn't make for much of
an insult. You're close enough. Damnit, that hurts."
He had evidently fallen fast asleep, slumped over the
desk. I guess I've got some guts to fall asleep in this
situation. Heh heh. He mentally congratulated himself
while he massaged his earlobe. In reality, he had probably
lost consciousness from exhaustion, but it didn't feel bad
to compliment himself like this.
He heard snoring. Rikiga was curled up on the floor at
his feet, snoring liberally. Even a legendary monster
couldn't produce such a horrifying noise.
 "Tsk, looks like old man here has got more guts,"
Inukashi clicked his tongue. The little mice scurried up his
arm.
"Hey, stop that. I just clicked my tongue. I wasn't
inviting you to play. I don't have food, either. Hey, don't
bite my ear! I'm hungry, too!"
Chit-chit-chit. Chit-chit-chit.
Screek! Screek! Screek!
The mice scurried up and dashed down Inukashi's arm
in turn. Their actions and cries were clearly out of the
ordinary.
"What is it? Is something wrong?"
His nose twitched. It smelled like something was
burning. Smoke was seeping through the door, which was
slightly ajar. It was burning inside the Correctional
Facility.
"Shit..." Inukashi muttered to himself.
The smoke would probably fill this room in no time.
They had to escape before then.
This is serious. And it's amazing. If the smoke has
gotten this far, it must be a serious fire. What about the
fire-extinguishing devices? Did they not work? Devices not
working in the Correctional Facility? Is that even possible?
Inukashi swallowed. Is it their doing? Did Nezumi and
Shion stop all the systems? Did they pull this miracle off?
 "You can make miracles happen more easily than you
think, Inukashi." Are you telling me you weren't lying or
putting on a front when you were saying that?
The smoke streamed in with even greater speed, along
with a burning smell and heat. His spine froze. Wait. Wait
a second. Are they still in here?
This smoke, this stench, this heat. He could not
imagine people surviving in this. His spine grew even
colder.
Nezumi, you better know that you're only allowed to
call it a miracle if you come back alive to say it. If you die
in there, that's not a miracle. You won't even get a
memorial. If you don't end up coming home after giving
me all that big talk, I'll laugh. I'll laugh my ass off.
Rikiga choked on the smoke and started coughing. The
mice screeched. It looked like they were roaring with all
their might.
"What is it? What do I do? What happened to your
masters?" Inukashi felt like screaming too. What the hell
am I supposed to do?
One of the mice―he couldn't tell if it was Cravat or
Hamlet―dashed into the collection area. It darted madly
around the very bottom of the garbage chute, where a
square opening had been cut out. The other joined it, and
they both ran in dizzying circles around it.
Garbage chute? Wait a minute, why did Nezumi make
us wait here in the first place? The garbage chute....
 Inukashi roused himself, and kicked Rikiga's hind
quarters.
"Help me out, old man."
"Wh-What? What's going on?"
"They're coming back. Help out."
In a corner of the collection area, there were a few
old and worn mats. Getsuyaku had supplied them to
prevent further damage to apparatuses as they came
falling down the chute. The less damaged the goods were,
the higher the price he could resell them at. Getsuyaku
made considerable money from garbage that came falling
down this chute.
There were bits of broken glass strewn in the waste
heaps in the collection area, and the bare concrete floor
was exposed in some parts. If the boys came falling down
here, their bones would shatter. I can let that happen to
unwanted machines, but they're human. I can't let their
bones break.
"Hurry up, old man. Stop loafing."
"R-Right." Rikiga waddled over, and grabbed a mat.
"We're gonna line these up. Stack them. Hurry!"
"Right.. but Inukashi, are Shion and them really
coming back? How are they―"
"Shut up and get a move on! Quickly!"
Inukashi strained his ears while moving the mats.
Come back, Nezumi. Come back, Shion.
 "Inukashi, the smoke is getting bad!" Rikiga yelled. The
small room was being swallowed up in white smoke.
Just come back, Nezumi, Shion.
Please, just come home.
He heard the wind rumbling through the chute.
Come home.
Please, come home.
O Lord, watch over them. Inukashi clasped his hands
together, and prayed to God for the first time in his life. O
Lord―

-- END OF CHAPTER --
So this was No. 6.
This was Elyurias.

CHAPTER 1
That which I say I saw

Gracious my lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do it.[1]
-Macbeth, Act V Scene V
They were falling. Falling, almost straight down.
It was faster than anything Shion had imagined. He
knew it was impossible, but he heard the sound of the
wind. It was the same wind from that stormy night.
It was September 7, 2013―Shion's twelfth birthday.
The Holy City of No. 6 had been directly hit by a
hurricane. The rain was pounding on the ground, and the
wind was roaring. The trees in his yard careened wildly,
and leafy branches broke off and whipped through the air.
It was an extremely large and severe hurricane, a kind not
seen in recent years, but he was sure that no one living in
Chronos felt threatened or anxious. Shion and his mother,
Karan, had been the same.
This was No. 6. A utopian city, the results of human
wisdom and cutting-edge technology. And in that utopia,
Chronos was in the highest ranks among the luxury
residences, a town where only the chosen ones were
allowed to live. Mere natural disasters could not disturb it.
Everyone had believed so without a doubt. They had
been allowed to believe otherwise.
That stormy night, I opened my window.
Why? he sometimes thought. Why did I open that
window? Was it because I was excited at nature's madness,
and I was stimulated, or I was stirred by a violent
impulse―was that it? I certainly did open the window, and
I yelled. I screamed as if I were pouring out all of the
ferocity inside me. If I didn't scream, I felt like I would
shatter to bits. In my own way, I felt a fear that I would
be entrapped and tamed into domesticity by No. 6.
A vague fear―maybe something that you wouldn't be
acquainted with, Nezumi.
I felt like I was suffocating. I was scared. I wanted to
scream.
That was why I opened the window―wasn't it?
No.
That's not it.
You called to me.
I heard that voice―your voice―calling me.
It ducked through the wind, tore through the rain,
and came to me.
You called me, and I was called by you.
That's why I opened the window. I flung it open wide
to the outdoors.
I extended my arms in search of you.
Would you laugh? Would that breathtaking smile cross
your face as you sneer at me? Would you shake your head
with exasperation in that graceful way of yours?
'Meaningless fancies. An intolerable mass of
self-consciousness, like a half-baked artist's work'―would
you spit those words at me? You probably would. Go on
and laugh. You can dismiss them as my delusions; I don't
care.
But it's the truth.
You called me, and I listened. I reached out, and you
caught my arm. I opened the window so I could meet you.
That's our truth, Nezumi.
A noise was ringing in his ears. It wasn't the whirl of
the wind. It was the sound of sliding through a plastic
tube. But what if this tube was not a garbage chute, but a
steep slope that led straight to Hell?
Suddenly his consciousness began to fade. All the
wounds he had suffered on his entire body grew hot and
throbbed. The strength left him.
Going to Hell doesn't seem so bad when it's with you.
Should I stop resisting, then? Why don't I just give up on
struggling, on fighting, on wanting to live?
If I let myself black out now, I'll be free from this
pain, this weariness.
Shion closed his eyes. Darkness fanned out before him.
Just like this... just like this....
"Ugh," Nezumi groaned softly. It stabbed Shion's
eardrums. Like lightning flaring up in a night sky, it tore
the darkness away from his consciousness.
Damnit. Shion bit his lip and inflicted pain on himself.
He scolded himself severely. You bastard, what were you
thinking? You can't give up now. Live. Survive. We have a
place to return to, and we have to get there in one piece.
He had made that vow. He had vowed to himself that
he would protect Nezumi through to the end, and survive
this ordeal together.
His hand slipped. Nezumi's blood was caked on his
palms. A black mouse leapt out of his pocket and ran
along the garbage chute wall. It wasn't falling; it was
definitely running.
Tsukiyo, I'm counting on you. Tell Inukashi that we're
alive.
Shion jammed both feet against the wall and gritted
his teeth. He focused all the strength in his body on his
legs. His bones creaked. Their falling speed decreased
somewhat. His bones continued to creak as if they were
screaming from the pain.
Damnit, I won't give in yet. Shion chewed his lip still
harder. He did not taste the blood. His tongue was already
numbed to its rusty metallic taste.
Inukashi―Inukashi, help us.
Inukashi!

Rikiga fell into a fit of coughing. He recovered and

breathed raggedly.
"Inukashi, I can't do it anymore. I'm at my limit."
"Limit of what?" Inukashi said tersely.
 "I can't breathe. Are you planning on suffocating me
like this?"
"What good is it to me if I suffocate you, old man? You
gonna leave me a giant inheritance? The most you'd
probably leave behind is a pile of empty booze bottles."
"Hmph. See if I even leave you that."
But even while griping, Rikiga did not try to flee. He
was still stacking mattresses under the opening of the
garbage chute. With each mattress he stacked, he had a
coughing fit, gasped and wheezed, and griped some more.
Smoke had saturated the hygiene management room.
The collection area was no exception; it was almost
engulfed by thick, grey smoke. The dogs lay low on their
bellies, their breathing hushed. Even the little mice who
had been squeaking clamorously at each other were now
huddled motionless.
The limit―Rikiga was right, the limit was near.
Inukashi himself was choking on the smoke, and the air
wasn't passing through his throat well. His heart pounded
frantically.
It hurts.
The air is stuck in my throat.
But he was not miserable. He was not in despair. On
the contrary, a part of his heart was pounding, soaring in
anticipation.
 What is this smoke? This hot air that blows at me
from time to time? The restless buzz that comes with its
snarl?
A clear precursor to destruction. The Correctional
Facility is raising its last dying shriek.
Many times Inukashi felt like barking out of
excitement. He wanted to bark and howl until his throat
trembled. Just once, he opened his mouth wide, but he
only choked on the smoke that rushed into his mouth.
He licked his lips while carrying the mattresses. If I
can't bark, the least I can do is lick my chops.
What he thought was absolute was crumbling before
his eyes.
Will you look at that. Is that what life is, Nezumi?
Shion? If it is, that means you guys taught me what it is to
be alive. You never know what happens. There's nothing
absolute about what humans create.
I won't thank you; you guys have caused me too much
hassle. You'll never hear a word of thanks come out of my
mouth.
But I owe you praise. I'll give you my best
compliments. I'm actually impressed that you guys turned
out as decent as my dogs are. You guys are really
something. I have new regard for you. I'm impressed―just
a tiny bit.
 The smoke assaulted his eyes, his throat, and his nasal
passage. A tear rolled down his cheek. It was just the
smoke stinging his eyes.
You come back, you hear me? If you don't, I can't
praise you. Hurry, hurry, while my breath can still last
me. Hurry.
Inukashi! Someone called him. He whirled around.
Rikiga was kneeling on the floor. He was holding a white
cloth to his mouth, and coughs were racking his bent back.
"Call me?"
"―What?"
"Did you call me, old man?"
"What would I... do that for?" Rikiga wheezed. "You
want me to... give you one last kiss or something?"
"Knock it off. That's creepy, even for a joke."
"I'm... past the point of... caring whether it's creepy.
Really, I can't... stand this anymore..."
"That's a shame. My heart goes out to you, man. But
it's a bit too late to repent. A man as corrupted as you
isn't gonna get any closer to Heaven, no matter how hard
you try."
"Damnit... still smart-mouthing me... are you?"
Explosions. Smoke pouring into the air. The dog with
patched fur raised its head. Terror swam in its eyes. But
the dogs did not move. They did not try to flee.
 They're waiting for my orders. They were waiting for
Inukashi's command, fighting their fear of death. Dogs
never abandoned their master. They never betrayed him.
I can't murder them like this.
"Go." Inukashi pointed at the entrance door. "Escape by
yourselves."
But the dogs did not get to their feet. They remained
lying on their stomachs, watching Inukashi.
"What? I'm telling you to leave. Get out of here,
quickly." He met the eyes of the patched dog. Its eyes
were serene. The shadow of fear that had crossed his eyes
moments ago was wiped cleanly away.
"I see..." You won't move if your master doesn't.
"Aren't you gonna... tell me?" Rikiga coughed and
wheezed. "Aren't you gonna... tell me to run?"
"You? You can get the hell out of here if you want to.
You wouldn't be any use if you stayed."
"Inukashi."
"What?"
"Do you... plan to die here?"
"Die? Why would I?"
"There's barely any... chance that those two... Shion
and Eve... are going to come back. If you're gonna gamble
on that slim chance... if you're gonna gamble and choose
to stay... that's like killing yourself."
 No way. Heaven and earth can turn upside-down, but
I'm never gonna kill myself. I'd be missing the spectacle of
a lifetime. The destruction of the Correctional Facility
was only the beginning. It was only the preamble. The
devastation of No. 6 itself was what came next.
No. 6 was falling apart.
I'll get to see the very moment with my own eyes. And
you're telling me I intend to die? You must be kidding me.
You bet I'll live to see No. 6's last. I'll thoroughly enjoy its
final act.
Heh heh heh.
Lighthearted laughter rang at his ear. No, it was in his
ear―inside his head. Someone was laughing. It was
carefree and joyful, yet an icy laughter.
"Who is it?"
His gaze darted about instinctively and caught a small
black shadow passing by.
A bug?
The shadow was soon swallowed up by the smoke as it
disappeared. The laughter ceased. Were they both
hallucinations? There's no way a bug could be flying
around in this smoke.
Shiver. A chill ran down his spine.
Screech, screech, chit-chit!
Cheep-cheep-cheep-cheep-cheep. Squeak!
 Suddenly, the mice began to cause a commotion. They
raised their voices again, but much higher this time, and
dashed around on top of the mattresses.
Inukashi held his breath.
A small object came tumbling out of the chute. It was
not trash. It was a small black mouse.
"Tsukiyo." Inukashi tried calling it. The black mouse
flew through the air; it leapt straight for Inukashi. It
latched onto Inukashi's hastily extended arm, and
squeaked insistently.
Cheep cheep cheep cheep! Cheep cheep cheep cheep!
It was Tsukiyo; there was no doubt about it. It was the
same little mouse that Inukashi himself had commanded to
go to Nezumi. His blood stirred. His body grew hot.
"Wake up, old man."
"Eh?"
Rikiga blinked feebly, still squatted on the ground. His
eyes were bleary and red. His face was sooty, his hair was
mussed, and he looked like he had aged a good decade.
"They're coming back."
"Eh?"
"Coming back. Hold onto the mattresses."
"R-Right." Rikiga got to his feet in a surprisingly swift
move.
The wind was howling.
 As Inukashi and Rikiga held the mattresses down, they
felt a heavy impact almost simultaneously. The mattress
sank, almost sending Inukashi's slender frame flying. He
summoned all the strength in his body to cling onto the
mattress.
He had instinctively closed his eyes, but now he
opened them carefully. He saw two bodies lying in a heap.
"Shion, Eve!" Rikiga yelled before Inukashi could speak.
"You alright? Hey! You alright?"
"Gh..." Shion's arm jerked. A part of his white hair was
dyed with his blood. Blood was streaming from his
shoulder and his leg. His clothes were torn, ripped, and
hanging in places. Inukashi couldn't tell if the dark flecks
all over his clothes were from blood or the trash in the
chute.
Horrible. Inukashi kept his eyes wide open as he
swallowed his spit, which smelled like smoke. You guys are
a mess. I think even the undead would look a bit better
crawling out of their graves.
"...Inukashi." Shion lifted himself up and turned his
face to Inukashi. His cheeks were streaked―whether it
was with sweat or tears, he didn't know, but they
engraved prominent marks on his skin.
"Shion, you're alive." You made it back alive.
"Inukashi, save Nezumi..."
 "Nezumi? What about him? What―" Inukashi was barely
able to hold in the scream that threatened to burst from
his throat.
Nezumi was lying on the mattress, totally still and
unmoving. His clothes were soiled reddish-black from his
shoulder to his chest, and he gave off the smell of blood.
"Nezumi, hey, what's wrong?" Inukashi asked
tentatively, but there was no answer. On his pale,
bloodless face, only his lips were vividly red. To Inukashi,
they did not look human at all. Nezumi had always had a
face that was somewhat otherworldly, but the face in
front of him was one of a doll. A skillfully and
meticulously crafted piece.
But dolls don't bleed.
"To the hospital―hurry," Shion screamed, as if wringing
the voice from his throat. Explosions rocked the
foundations of the building. The whole room shook with its
impact. A draft was coming in from somewhere, and the
smoke wavered and thinned slightly. The shaking did not
stop.
"We need to get out of here! This place is coming
down!" Rikiga yelled as he wrenched Nezumi away from
Shion's arms. He slung the boy over his shoulder.
"Shion, can you run on your own?"
"I can."
"Right, then run. Get outside."
 One more sound, more violent than before, rang out,
and the door to the Correctional Facility was blasted
away.
"Run, run! This place won't hold much longer!"
Rikiga broke into a run, bearing Nezumi. Tsukiyo dove
into Shion's pocket, and the two mice, Hamlet and Cravat,
leapt onto a dog's back.
"Get out, goddamnit! Get out of here!" Rikiga's bellows
slammed into him.
His back was blistering hot. Inukashi turned around to
the flames filling his vision. Beyond the blown-open door,
the Correctional Facility was burning.
The door blew apart? Wasn't the door between the
Correctional Facility and the Hygiene Management Room
supposed to be made of some special alloy that even a
small missile couldn't penetrate? And it's been blown
apart like it's nothing?
For less than half a second, he stood stupefied. Flames
slithered. A fire-coloured monster was writhing on the
floor. It writhed and twisted towards the corpse of the
black dog and swallowed it whole. It was the same dog
that had been shot to death protecting Inukashi, but
Inukashi was unable to give it a proper burial.
Sorry.
"Inukashi, hurry!" Shion grabbed his arm.
 "Get out, get out! We have to get out of here!" Rikiga
continued to bellow. He seemed to be turning his yelling
into energy to move forward. Inukashi was pushed along
by the heat and the hot air from behind, and quite
literally stumbled into the outdoors. Fresh air flowed into
his body.
Oh, I can finally breathe.
"Not yet. We can't stop yet. Keep running." Shion's grip
tightened. Inukashi was dragged along by his arm. The
gravel crunched under his feet.
"Ow! Shion, that hurts! Stop―" Inukashi abruptly closed
his mouth. His eyes had met with Shion's.
His eyes, dark with a wash of purple, were the same
as always. They were completely unchanged. They were
bloodshot, and the eyelids were swollen, but they were
Shion's eyes.
Yet Inukashi closed his mouth and felt his body stiffen.
He did not know why. The boy in front of him telling him
to run seemed a complete stranger. He was someone
Inukashi did not know.
No. Those aren't Shion's eyes. Shion, what's gotten
into you?
But the confusion and foreboding vanished in an
instant. Shion was right―he could not fall to his knees just
yet. His instincts sounded the alarm. This physical
sensation was much more reliable than any cutting-edge
security device.
 Get out of here, run. Get out of here.
Inukashi leapt to his feet, and ran as fast as he could.
From behind, he could hear the roar of a beast. Yes, those
were not just explosions. A monster was baying. It was
raving madly.
Get out of here, run. Get out of here.
Run and survive.
Tsukiyo had crawled out of Shion's pocket and was
clinging onto his neck. It had opened its tiny round eyes as
wide as it could, and was staring over at Inukashi.
You're kinda cute.
Dogs' eyes and mice's eyes were alike, and all such
innocent beings were loveable. Inukashi thought of Shionn.
He had not forgotten about him for a moment. He had
only pushed the infant to a corner of his heart so as not to
remember him when he was not supposed to.
Shionn was innocence itself. He was so small, yet he
had so much inside him.
The dogs are probably managing alright. I left him
with a dog that's birthed and raised a ton of her own
puppies. Apart from her, there are a few other caring
females in waiting. He's probably sleeping right now,
protected by his loving nurse.
"Shionn, my baby," he murmured. Just then, Rikiga,
who had been running in front of him, disappeared. He
heard a shout, and the sound of a body falling over.
 "Whoa!" Shion tripped over Rikiga's fallen body. In
turn, Inukashi's feet were swept from under him by Shion,
and he was slammed to the ground. The pain racked him
to his very core.
He could not speak. Lying on his stomach on the
ground, he could only draw strained breaths. He could feel
the frozen ground on his cheek. It was soothing. It had not
the iciness of winter, but a cold that harboured a faint
hint of warmth and softness.
Spring was coming. A late spring was starting to arrive
in the West Block.
No. 6 was probably fully furnished with flowering
parks and streets lined with cherry blossom trees, but one
would be hard-pressed to find even a single flowering tree
in the West Block. But the weeds growing on the shoulders
of the road faithfully opened their petals year after year.
Flowers usually sparked no interest or intrigue in Inukashi
since they were not edible, but once in a while they
pulled at his heartstrings.
Oh, I've lived through another winter, he would think.
Then, for a fleeting instant, in the back of his mind he saw
faces of those who had frozen to death that winter―the
old beggar lady he had been familiar with; the man who
had hung around the ruins for a good while; the woman
who was so emaciated, it was hard to tell her age―but
they disappeared as quickly as they had come.
Spring was coming. Would those flowers bloom again
on the side of the road?
 "Nezumi," Shion gasped. He lifted himself up, and
crawled over to Nezumi's side. "Nezumi, Nezumi. Can you
hear me? Nezumi―"
Inukashi also lifted himself up. They were lying in the
shadow of some shrubbery. When was it that he had
hidden himself here, witnessing Getsuyaku being shot to
death?
It felt like it had happened only minutes ago, but at
the same time a thousand years back.
"Nezumi, open your eyes. We're out. We were able to
get out."
Shion's voice sounded like the wind that whistled
through the ruins. It was mournful. It froze the hearts and
ears of those who listened.
Inukashi peered over Shion's shoulder at Nezumi's face,
and compressed his lips into a hard line.
Is he dead? The statement pushed his lip up and
threatened to spill out. Shion, is Nezumi dead? Or is he
just acting? Who's he playing? Macbeth, Hamlet, or some
other weird name that you guys used to mention?
Hey, Shion. Don't tell me Nezumi is really―
"Gh―" Nezumi's eyelashes trembled very slightly.
"He's alive," Shion shouted as he lifted Nezumi in his
arms. "He's alive! Hurry, to the hospital!"
Yeah, you're sure alive. You can't trick me, Nezumi.
There's no way you would be wiped out that easily.
 "Old man." Inukashi called to Rikiga, who was
squatting on the ground. His car was parked beyond the
shrubs. It was a piece of junk, a step away from scrap
metal, but it could still chug along with a couple
passengers. They had taken this gasoline-fuelled car to get
here, after all.
"Old man, hurry up."
"―I know, but―"
Rikiga held a hand to his mouth, and stuck his head
into the bushes. The sound of retching reached them.
"Dumbass! This is no time to be puking! Hurry the hell
up, come on!"
Inukashi grabbed the man by the belt of his trousers
and dragged him out of the bushes. Almost as if in answer,
an even larger flame burst out of the window of the
Correctional Facility. It threw a bright light on the
surroundings. Black smoke formed a thick stream as it rose
into the sky. It engulfed and blacked out the stars.
Can you see these flames from No. 6, too? What would
West Block residents be thinking right now as they watch
the flames burning the night up?
Look at it, it's falling. A place that used to mean Hell
for us is collapsing. It's gonna be wiped out, just like that,
even quicker than our marketplace.
Rikiga got to his feet unsteadily. He wiped his mouth
with the back of his hand, and wiped the sweat on his
brow while he was at it.
 "Why do I... have to go through this? Besides, you
know, I―"
"Enough crap," Inukashi interrupted. "No one's
listening. If you've got time to bitch and moan, get the car
moving."
"Moving where?" Rikiga snarled. "Eh? Answer me this,
Inukashi. Where are we going to take someone who's hurt
so badly he's as good as dead? Answer me, I'd like to see
you try! If you can give me an answer, boy, I'll take you
wherever the hell you want."
Inukashi drew his chin back and fell silent. He could
not answer.
He was not intimidated by Rikiga's angry outburst. He
genuinely did not know. 'To the hospital,' Shion had said,
but there were no medical facilities in the West Block.
There were seedy witch doctors and questionable
medicine shops, to be sure, but they had all been blown
clean off their foundations during the Hunt. But even if
they were still around, they would probably not have been
of much use.
Rikiga continued his furious tirade.
"Someone who's bled this much is going to need a
decent amount of medical equipment. Where do you
suggest we find that, huh? Nowhere here, for sure. You
can scour the whole West Block and you won't find a single
damn syringe. You should know that best, Inukashi."
 Inukashi looked down at Nezumi. His lips were parted
slightly. He was breathing. But―
This is the end, huh? The strength withered in his legs,
and he felt like he would collapse. This is it, Nezumi.
There's nothing more we can do.
As long as they lived in No. 6, all their hopes were like
towers of sand. They melted away all too easily. Then,
what are we to do? What must we do so we can build our
lives on firm ground instead of sand?
If No. 6 isn't an idyllic city, then what is 'ideal'
supposed to be? How are we to create an entirely new
world, so different from No. 6?
"Renka, Yoming isn't working alone, is he?"
"No... there must be other people who have gone
through the same thing―who have lost their family."
"And Yoming is with them, right? They must be acting
together."
"Yes, I'm sure of it."
"Do you have any idea where they might be?"
After some moments of thought, Renka shook her
head.
"No. It looks like they're in some basement studio. He
would need proper equipment to make that video clip."
"You're right. But neither of us know where that is. We
have no way of meeting Yoming."
 "Karan," Renka held her hand out. Karan grasped it.
"What will I do? What should I do, Karan?"
Karan could feel a presence. It pressed upon her from
the street.
To battle, to battle, to battle, to battle, to battle.
Destroy it, destroy it, destroy it, destroy it.
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.
"Let's think about it, Renka." She cupped her hand
gently around Renka's belly. Then, she touched Lili's
cheek.
"We still have hope."
"What?"
"Hope. The baby in your belly, and Lili―they are our
hope. We have to do our best so that these children will
have a real world to live in. Right, Renka? We have our
children. Not all our hope has been taken from us."
"Shion, too." Renka wiped her tears away and nodded.
"Shion is our hope too, isn't he? And a big one, too."
"Mm-hmm. Thank you, Renka."
"He's coming home soon," Lili blurted without warning.
"Onii-chan's coming home soon. I can tell."
"Why, Lili." Karan scooped Lili up and kissed her on the
cheek.
"It's true," she insisted. "He's really coming home."
 Shion is... coming home.
Please come back, Shion. And Safu, you too.
Please come home safe.
I pray for you.
Her prayers led also to the boy named Nezumi, whom
she had yet to meet.
I would love to meet you, Nezumi. I would love to see
you, and thank you. I want you to know how grateful I am
for your support. Shion, Safu, Nezumi. You, too, are my
hope. My very large hope.
Come home to me.

No. 6's city hall, known informally as the Moondrop,

was surrounded.
The citizens crowded the square and overflowed into
the streets. Each shouted his own words of protest. Their
voices melted into one, and boomed so loudly it seemed
to shake the canopies.
But no matter how loud the clamour got, it did not
reach the mayor's office. The office was on the highest
floor of the building, with soundproof walls and windows.
Whatever happened outside never disturbed the constant
silence inside.
"Why? Why has something like this happened?" The
silence was broken as the mayor spun around and shook
his fist.
 "Fennec, will you calm down?" the man in the lab coat
answered. "You should be the last to be agitated." He sank
deeply into the leather chair and crossed his legs.
Pitiful, he thought as he mentally clicked his tongue.
He has always been like that. Ambitious but timid, and a
coward. The man switched his legs and recrossed them.
But he has been able to come this far precisely
because he is so timid and cowardly. He opens his heart to
no one. He trusts no one. He is suspicious of everything
and acts cautiously. A fennec indeed, the world's smallest
desert-dwelling fox.
The mayor paced the room. He flitted back and forth
busily. The thick carpet absorbed almost all of the noise
generated by his footsteps.
"It wasn't supposed to be this way. Citizens are
supposed to gather at the Moondrop to celebrate the Holy
Day and the greatness of No. 6, are they not? To think it
would turn out like―like this, I―how could such a thing
have happened?"
The man gave a deliberate sigh. The mayor stopped
pacing, and deep creases appeared on his brow as he
looked over.
"Please, Fennec," the man said. "Compose yourself. All
that's been coming out of your mouth these days is 'why'
and 'such a thing'. I'm starting to get rather bored of it."
"Answer me. Why has this happened?" The mayor's
voice grew strained. The man gave another sigh.
 "Because you haven't given it your all."
"I haven't?"
"Yes. You mobilized the army, but you only cleared
them away with a handful of firearms. Surely you wouldn't
call that decisive action. Nothing is more effective than
the army when it comes to subduing the imbecilic masses.
That was not the right way to use them. You should have
used them with more flourish, more decision, and an iron
finality."
"You're telling me to mass-murder my citizens?"
"They'll prostrate themselves to you before they get
themselves killed. They'll bow down in awe and fear.
They'll tremble as their very hearts are seized with regret
for ever opposing you or No. 6. They will be like neutered
dogs. No matter how badly they are treated, they will
never be able to bite back. Fennec, it is not too late.
Mobilize the army again, and clear away the mob that is
milling in the square. It may even be wise to use the
shockwave cannon, depending on the situation and the
course of events. You've already completed on-site testing
in the West Block, have you not?"
"That's almost like―" the mayor swallowed. "That's
almost like a reign of terror."
"Reign of terror? Absurd. I have told you before: you
are the ruler of No. 6. Its King. You reign over this country.
You embody justice itself and all its forms. Opposing you is
the same as defiling justice. It is only normal to use force
to make them comply."
 "...Stop it," the mayor said weakly.
"Fennec, what are you afraid of? This is not like you.
You have always acted like the King that you are. You are
conscious of your position as the chosen one, and you have
always lived under that notion."
"I have." The mayor slumped his shoulders, and
dropped his gaze to his feet. "I am the mayor. In No. 6's
highest position of responsibility, highest position of
power. It's only natural. We were the ones that built No. 6.
We launched the revival project, and brought salvation to
the dying land and its people. We built a utopian city, the
most idyllic―most idyllic city possible by humankind."
"Precisely. You and I were both central members. In
fact, only the two of us truly understood the ideals that
No. 6 strove for. The other members were highly qualified,
yes, but they lacked creativity. Or you might say they
severely lacked ambition, or an ability to observe the
changing times. But fortunately for us, we had those
abilities, almost in excess. That is why we have come this
far."
"This far?" the mayor said sarcastically. "You mean
being surrounded and condemned by our citizens? Was our
creativity and ambition and skill all for this?"
"This is only a temporary situation. It will conclude
instantly if only you would take effective measures."
"Effective measures? I've taken several."
"And those are?"
 "There are people fanning the flames of this chaos.
I've ordered the Security Bureau to catch them as quickly
as they can."
"Any ideas as to their location?"
"Not yet. They've gone underground."
"A clearly faulty plan. You should have obliterated all
such dissidents beforehand. You ought to have destroyed
them to their very roots. And what else have you done?"
"I used all sorts of mass media to broadcast my
speech. I called on the citizens to remain calm, not to
panic easily or be influenced by false rumours. I
announced a state of emergency and put a lockdown order
in effect. I commanded people to stay inside until the
order was lifted, and announced that anyone deemed as a
dissident would be arrested and detained, regardless of
whether he or she is a Chronos resident. I listened to your
warning, and I... mobilized the army."
"Hm. Well, no big mistakes so far. This would have
been resolved much more quickly if you had used the army
properly. But, well, small errors can be remedied.
Everything will go smoothly."
The mayor bent over and scrutinized the sitting man.
"Go smoothly? How? What part of this is going smoothly
for you? The citizens aren't retreating at all; in fact,
they're out of control. No matter how much the soldiers
try to suppress them, it doesn't work. Do you know why?
Because casualty after casualty keeps occurring. Citizens
are still dying, one after another, for a reason no one can
understand. Everyone thinks that a new type of plague has
suddenly broken out in the city. They think we're hiding
the vaccine somewhere. It's absurd, absolutely absurd!
That thing is no plague. It's because of them. Why are
they going around killing citizens as they please? Why? I
thought they were supposed to act however we wanted
them to. I thought we had absolute rule over them!"
The wan smile vanished from the man's face. The
corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.
"Fennec, how many times will you make me repeat
myself? Yes, true, this was an unexpected happening. A
random, totally unpredictable event. I acknowledge that. I
acknowledge too, of course, that my predictions were
much too optimistic. But this is not as dreadful as you
make it out to be. It is nothing more than a precursor―a
precursor to Its awakening."
"You're saying this chaos is just a precursor?"
"Why, yes. It is a mere response to Its awakening.
Which gives you an idea of the enormous amount of
energy this thing holds. Once It awakens completely and
comes under our control, we will be able to harness that
energy, and this chaos will calm."
"Are you... really sure?"
"Have I ever lied or given you false information? I have
always told the truth. Fennec, you haven't forgotten, have
you? I was the first to see your true potential to blossom
as a politician instead of a researcher."
 "―I remember. You pushed for me to enter as a
candidate for No. 6's first mayor."
"Yes. You won that election, and you have reigned over
No. 6 to this day. And you will continue to. There is no
need for an election. There will be no need for the
citizens to choose you of their own will. Fennec, don't
waver now. You have to act at all times like the mighty
man you are."
"A mighty man... is that what I wanted to become?"
"What did you say?" the man said sharply.
"I certainly did want to create a utopia with our very
own hands," the mayor said pensively, "and I wasn't the
only one. Back then, anyone who was involved in the
building of No. 6 should have felt the same. We all spoke
about how we would realize a utopian city here,
embodying the dreams of humankind. We talked about
how we would be the ones to build its foundations. Not a
single person... hoped to become an exalted man."
"A utopia cannot exist unless there is one to wield
absolute power and lead his people behind him. You
should know this the best. Yes, the ones with
overwhelming power are the ones who draw the majority
along with them. If it weren't for that, No. 6 would not be
called the utopia, the Holy City that it is called today. It is
a victory on the part of your power and our ideology."
"Victory, you say."
 "A complete victory," the man affirmed. "Some bumps
along the way cannot be helped. Once we overcome
those, No. 6 will continue to engrave its glorious history in
time."
The mayor did not answer him. He clasped his hands
behind his back, and resumed walking.
"When will It awaken?"
"Soon."
"Soon? It isn't like you to be so vague. Be specific."
The man shrugged. Well, well. So he tells me to be
specific. He must be getting impatient. People tend to
want specific numbers the more they feel they are being
cornered.
"Let me see... within twenty-four hours. All will be
settled and finished at this time tomorrow. Everything will
be quiet and in its right place."
"Twenty-four hours... I can't wait that long. Within
twenty hours, at least... no, twelve hours is the time
limit."
"Impatient, are we, Fennec?"
"Impatient?" the mayor said incredulously. "How in the
world could I be otherwise in this situation? The city
hall―the Moondrop―is being hemmed in by citizens!"
The mayor's fist pounded the mahogany desk. The man
shrugged one shoulder slightly.
 "Fennec, surely you don't think the Moondrop is still
the heart of No. 6?
The mayor froze.
"What? What did you just say?"
"No. 6's most important function now lies in the
Correctional Facility. The Moondrop has been reduced to a
mere administrative body. It can be surrounded by
anything, for that matter, and nothing serious would come
of it. As long as we have the Correctional Facility, our No.
6 is in safe hands."
The colour receded from the mayor's face. The tip of
his tongue twitched in his half-open mouth.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Mean? I just told you. The Correctional Facility is the
heart and brain of No. 6."
"What..." the mayor croaked. His voice was overlapped
by an electronic chime. A man's long thin face appeared
on the television screen embedded in the wall. He was
one of the secretaries under the mayor's direct order.
"Mayor, there are fires happening throughout the city."
"So the rioters have found their way in to set them."
"That's one thing, but there's more. The emergency
systems in all the buildings are not functioning at all. In
some buildings, I've heard that the core computer itself
has caught fire and exploded."
 The man was rendered speechless. There was only the
sound of his wheezing breath whirling in his throat. What
is this footage? The man let his throat rasp even more.
Some kind of trick? A scene from some cheap drama,
what? What is he showing me this for?
"The Correctional Facility is about to crumble!" The
secretary's high-pitched yell tore into him. The man,
unable to endure it, took two, three steps back.
"Wait, what's that shadow?" The mayor pushed the
stumbling man back upright again, and brought his face
close to the screen.
"What is that?"
The man looked as well. It was a black shadow
looming up clearly against the flames.
"This... isn't this a wasp? No, but... wasps like this
don't exist. They simply don't." The mayor's jaw trembled.
The man's chin was also trembling. The tremor raced
through his entire body.
"Elyurias." The name slipped from his trembling lips.
The mayor turned around.
"Did you say Elyurias?"
"Yes. It is Elyurias. But, no―she is supposed to be more
beautiful, more demure. She is not supposed to be
this―this enormous. She was supposed to be controllable
to my every whim."
 Supposed to be. Supposed to be. Supposed to be.
Supposed to be.
The screen turned black as the video was cut off.
"Mayor, the citizens have gotten inside the Moondrop.
Please, be careful!" the secretary continued to yell from
the other screen.
"This cannot be!" the man and mayor's voices
overlapped.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 3
This quintessence of dust

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in

reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and
moving how express and admirable, in action how
like an angel, in apprehension how like a god – the
beauty of the world, the paragon of animals! And
yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man
delights not me . . .
-Shakespeare, Hamlet Act II Scene II [1]

The doctor was much older than how Shion remembered

him. The tall, liberal man used to come to Karan's shop
once or twice a week to buy a sandwich or meat pie. A
handsome beard and moustache adorned his face, and he
spoke in a beautiful, clear baritone.
 He had also once invited Shion to specialize in
medicine and work at his clinic.
"You'd have no problem with picking up the necessary
specialized knowledge and technique. I recommend taking
the certification exam if you're interested."
It was an attractive offer, but Shion did not take it up.
There was no way someone like him, who had been
stripped of all his privileges and exiled from Chronos,
would be able to pass the exam. But he was happy that
the doctor had looked out for him―a stranger and a mere
baker's son―and offered him a path in medicine. He was
also grateful.
In the months that Shion had not seen him, the doctor
had transformed so much he hardly looked like the same
person. There were white streaks in his beard and his hair,
and he looked like he had shrunk a size. But in terms of
appearance, Shion admitted he had probably undergone a
more drastic change. His hair was completely white, and
his face was smeared with blood, dirt, and soot.
The small clinic in the outskirts of Lost Town was run
by the doctor, a nurse, and a nursing robot. The nurse
screamed as the bloodied, dirty group burst in. Shion
yelled over her shriek.
"Doctor, please―please, he needs treatment!"
"You... could you be―"
"The baker's son. Doctor, please. Treat him."
 The doctor's eyes shifted to Nezumi. His gaze trained
on the blood that dripped from him.
"Prepare for an emergency operation."
The nurse sprang into action even before the doctor
finished speaking. She hastily disappeared into a room
adjacent to the examination room. A robot came pushing
a stretcher.
"Please place the patient here."
Shion laid Nezumi down on the stretcher.
"Nezumi," he called tentatively. His eyelids remained
tightly closed. "Nezumi..."
"Please remove your arm. Please remove
your arm from under the patient. Now
transporting the patient to the operating
room."
The robot urged him, but Shion's arms were stiff and
unyielding, still holding Nezumi as he had all this time.
Only his fingertips shook violently.
"Shion!" Inukashi grabbed his arms and yanked them
for him.
"Now transporting the patient. Now
transporting the patient. Entering emergency
operating mode. Commencing oxygen intake.
Commencing measurements. Now measuring blood
pressure, pulse, heart rate, blood type."
 The doctor swiftly cut Nezumi's clothes away. Several
pipes grew from the robot's torso and connected to him.
"Transporting the patient. Transporting
the patient." The stretcher and robot entered the
operating room.
"Doctor." Shion grasped at the doctor's white coat.
"Doctor, please... save him. Please..."
"Shion."
He did not expect to be called by his name. Shion
lifted his face.
"I'm a doctor," the man said firmly. "If someone is in
need of treatment, I will do everything in my power to
give it to him. But this is Lost Town. I don't have the
equipment it takes to perform delicate surgery."
Shion knew. But as he had told Rikiga, he had no
choice but to rely on this doctor.
"I see that he's already gotten temporary treatment.
Was that you?"
"Yes."
"What kind of wound is it?"
"A gunshot. A rifle bullet pierced him."
"Pierced, you say," the doctor muttered as he strode
briskly into the operating room. Shion bowed his head
deeply to the man's retreating back.
He felt faint. He sank to the floor.
 "Shion..." Inukashi sat beside him, and put an arm
around his shoulders. "Shion... I just want to ask you, do
you... do you, by any chance, want me to be with you?"
"Inukashi..."
"Listen," Inukashi said brusquely, "I've never comforted
anyone before. I used to think it wasn't worth a crumb of
bread. Still think so. But... but if you want me to comfort
you right now... if I can comfort you somehow by being
here, then... then, I'll be here."
Inukashi gently rubbed Shion's arm. The tension
gradually loosened, and blood began to course through his
veins again. Shion closed his eyes, and let his head droop
onto Inukashi's chest.
He felt an almost imperceptible soft bump. If this was
the usual case, he would jump up in a confused panic. But
right now, he only felt soothed. Right here, there was a
body to support him, arms to hold him, a voice to murmur
to him, and the warmth of another to comfort him. This
was happiness that could not command a price. Was it
not?
"Inukashi... thank you."
Oh, but... Shion bit his lip with his eyes still closed.
But this is not the warmth I long for. Not this body, these
whispers, nor these arms.
Something warm flitted over his eyelids. Inukashi had
licked them. Inukashi was gently licking off the blood that
had dried and caked on them. The little mice were curled
up in Shion's lap, and the dogs had lain down in a corner of
the room.
"It'll be alright," Inukashi said. "There's no way he'd
die. He's not wuss enough to give in just yet. I've seen my
share of bad people in the West Block, but no one was as
cunning, conniving, and dangerous as Nezumi. I told ya
before, didn't I, that the guy is the devil himself. You just
don't know his true face. And I'm still right. He's still the
devil he always was, and devils aren't done in so easily.
Tomorrow, he'll wake up as if nothing happened, and go
right back to setting traps for us. He's that kind of guy.
He'll be alright, don't worry."
Shion opened his eyes, and lifted himself up.
"Inukashi, I'm grateful. Thank you so much."
"I was only insulting Nezumi, dumbass. What're you
feeling grateful about? You're a hopeless idiot, you know.
Hopeless."
Inukashi turned aside obstinately. But he did not move
away from Shion.
Ungh, nghoaaaar, nghoaaar.
A snore rang out, making the very air of the room
vibrate.
"Whoa! Will ya listen to that racket."
Nghoaaaar, nghoaaaar, nghoaaaar, ungh, ungh.
Rikiga was fast asleep, lying on his back on a bench.
 "Just now he was saying he wouldn't be able to sleep
without some drinks in him, and now look at the guy. Like
a log. I'm surrounded by hopeless people." Inukashi sighed
theatrically. Then, he gave a short whistle. The dogs got
to their feet and approached. They nestled close to
Inukashi and Shion, and lay crouched on their bellies.
"These guys can make the best sleeping quarters out of
any hole. It's time for us to catch a wink, too."
"Yeah..."
"We need to sleep, Shion." Inukashi pulled at Shion's
shirt. "We won't be able to fight tomorrow if we don't. You
don't think our fight is over yet, do you?"
He did not. Nothing had been solved yet. The fight
would still continue tomorrow. But if I lost Nezumi, if I
had to face a tomorrow without him, then I wouldn't be
able to remain a soldier.
You're weak. Unbelievably frail, he could hear Nezumi
say in derision. Laugh at me, Nezumi. Look on me with
contempt. Make fun of me. Give me a scornful laugh, a
cold laugh. I just want to hear your laughter. Let me hear
it, please.
"Sleep," Inukashi said, almost like an order.

The Correctional Facility was burning. The flames

roared up around it as it crumbled. This is a dream, his
reason told him. You've escaped the Correctional Facility.
You're already in Lost Town, No. 6. That's why―this must
be a dream.
This is an illusion.
The flames roared. They were revoltingly real. He
could clearly see the tip of each writhing flame. His skin
smarted at the scorching air that blew at him. The acrid
smell stung his nose.
This is a dream? This is an illusion? Absurd. This is
unmistakably reality.
But does that mean I've come back again? Have I
slipped back in time to right after I escaped the
Correctional Facility?
The flames burned with even greater vigour. They
roared, wavered, and overlapped. He saw them stretch
out into thin strips before a black streak slashed through
it.
Shion stood stock-still with his breath held. All
confusion, agitation, and astonishment fell away. He
simply stood in a trance.
The black streak kept widening. The flames split into
two.
"A wasp..."
The rest failed to materialize as words.
It had a coal-black body, a slender curved torso, a long
belly, transparent wings embroidered with thin golden
lines; golden antennae and compound eyes; three simple
eyes that shone a dull silver.
A giant wasp appeared out of the flames. It was a
wasp, coloured coal-black, gold, and silver―light and
darkness. Shion took a step backwards. Its beauty was
almost terrifying. He was so overwhelmed, he was almost
brought to his knees.
What... is this?
"Elyurias," a mutter touched his earlobe.
"Nezumi."
Nezumi was standing right beside Shion. He stared
unblinking at the flames. No―he was not looking at the
flames engulfing the Correctional Facility, but at the
enormous wasp. Nezumi was holding his ground against it.
"Elyurias? This wasp?"
Nezumi did not answer. He did not stir. He was almost
like a statue. For an instant, the wasp in front of Shion
faded in his consciousness. Nezumi was standing there. His
eyes were open wide. His profile expressionless, but blood
coursed through that face.
"Nezumi, you really did―" You really survived.
Nezumi inhaled. His lips moved very slightly. A melody
flowed forth. Gentle music found life as it left Nezumi's
lips.
Shion smelled the lush scent of greenery. The sound of
the rustling canopies reached his ears. He felt the beating
of wings. The buzzing of small insects echoed in his
eardrums, until even that melted into music, forming its
ebb and flow.
His body was being lifted up. He no longer knew where
he was. His body and soul were suspended in Nezumi's
music. Shion let his whole body relax as he lent himself
fully to it.
He could hear singing.

The wind steals the soul away, humans thieve the

heart
O earth, wind, and rain; O heavens, O light
Keep everything here
Keep everything here, and
Live in this place
O soul, my heart, O love, my feelings true
Return home here
And stay

The wind steals the soul away, humans thieve the

heart
But here I will stay
to keep singing
Please
Deliver my song
Please
Accept my song
 Shion had broken into a thin sheen of sweat in the
midst of his ecstasy. A bead of sweat slid down his
forehead.
Suddenly, he was blasted by hot air.
He was slammed to the ground. Charred pieces of
debris grazed his cheeks, his body, as they bounced and
tumbled across the ground.
"Don't get up." Nezumi's hand pressed on his back.
"Keep lying low."
The wind kept blowing. Fragments of rock and debris
rolled over the ground in front of Shion as he lay
face-down on the ground.
Chuckle chuckle chuckle.
Chuckle chuckle chuckle.
Laughter welled up from deep underground. Or was it
raining down from the heavens?
Chuckle chuckle chuckle.
Chuckle chuckle chuckle.
The wasp spread its wings wide open. The flames
streamed sideways, crawling across the ground.
Chuckle chuckle chuckle.
Chuckle chuckle chuckle.
The wasp took flight. It ascended to the sky without a
sound, leaving only the wind behind. A piercing buzz of
wings rose all around. Thousands of small black specks
took flight after the giant wasp. The swarm of them
formed a wide band as they rose.
"Elyurias," Nezumi murmured again.

He couldn't breath. There was something weighing

down on his upper torso.
Shion awoke. Inukashi's head was on his chest. He was
asleep with his ear pressed to Shion's chest as if to check
his heartbeat. He was breathing softly. Two dogs were
nestled close on either side of them.
I see what he meant. You definitely wouldn't freeze to
death like this.
Another dog was curled up beside Rikiga. Despite his
grumbling, Inukashi had also looked out for Rikiga to make
sure he didn't freeze. Perhaps that explained why Rikiga's
snores had turned into peaceful breathing.
They were in a small hospital room, Lost Town, No. 6.
There was no mistake: time had not turned back. But that
was not a dream. What he had seen was reality.
Elyurias―was that it? A wasp born from a cocoon of
flames?
Shion gingerly touched the nape of his neck. He
thought about the wasp that had tried to tear through that
spot and crawl out of it. He thought about Yamase. He
thought about the thousands of wasps which had taken
flight in a dense black stream. If those were all parasitic,
what would become of No. 6?
 He did not know.
He slipped a couch cushion under Inukashi's head, and
stood up stealthily so as not to wake him. He had probably
only been asleep for a short while―not more than thirty
minutes. But his body felt surprisingly light. Was it
because he was relieved?
Nezumi survived. He was certain. His heart, which was
fraught with tension until then, gradually began to
unwind. Shion took several deep breaths.
He was concerned about where the wasps were going,
as well as what kind of fate awaited No. 6. But his relief
at not losing Nezumi trumped it all.
He inhaled once more, deeply, and exhaled.
A computer was embedded in the doctor's desk. He
pressed a button, and the screen silently began to load.
He dug into the pocket of his sweater.
"There it is." The chip had been given to him by the
man called Rou. He wondered what was going to happen
to that underground area now that the Correctional
Facility had crumbled. What had happened to Sasori? Or
the boy who had handed him a bowl of water? The girl
who had stared at Shion in wonder? And Safu?
Rou had said that the chip contained the entirety of
his research, and that he entrusted it to Shion.
"After you have saved your friend, please try to
decode it." His voice had been hoarse and feeble. After
you have saved your friend...
 Safu. I couldn't save her. She had been his precious
friend, and he had abandoned her.
His last glimpse of Safu had been of her smiling. She
looked a little more mature than Shion remembered, and
she was beautiful.
I couldn't save her. In the end, I couldn't save her.
He made a fist and struck his chest. I've made another
wound here. A wound that'll ache for the rest of my life.
I'll never forget. I won't be able to forget.
Safu. You're forever out of reach, no matter how
strongly I feel for you. But you'll still be in my heart. I'll
continue to think of you, and of what you left behind for
me.
He inserted the chip. He was not asked for a
password. Shion bent forward and stared intently at the
screen.
Everything to do with No. 6 during their underground
conversation with Rou was written here. Elyurias, the Mao
Massacre, the Forest People, destruction, predation and
parasitism....
As he read on, wading through the mix of
unintelligible technical language and numbers, he felt his
fingertips growing colder.
Shion finished reading, and extracted the chip. His
mind was half-numb and in a daze.
So this was No. 6.
 This was Elyurias.
The door of the operating room opened and the doctor
walked out.
"Doctor." Shion stood up, and the man nodded at him.
"He'll be alright. He's hanging in there."
"Thank you so much, doctor. Thank you."
The doctor removed his mask and grinned.
"You mentioned that you were the one who stemmed
his bleeding and gave him temporary treatment?"
"Yes."
"You did a very nice job. He was also lucky that the
bullet hadn't remained in his body. It pierced him, but
thankfully it just missed the fatal spot. He's very
fortunate, indeed."
"I told ya so."
Shion had not noticed Inukashi standing behind him.
Inukashi had a hand on his hip, and shot a quick glance at
Shion.
"Nezumi has a notorious amount of good luck when it
comes to getting out of bad situations. You don't need to
worry about him."
"And I think I need to worry about the rest of you," the
doctor smiled crookedly. "Where were you hit, Shion?"
"You know my name?"
 "I do. It did make the headlines when you got arrested
and taken to the Correctional Facility."
"I see..."
"Everyone who had any knowledge of you was
surprised. I don't think anyone could believe that you were
the 'fallen elite turned murdering monster' or the
workplace murder suspect that the authorities made you
out to be."
"You too, doctor?"
"You could say that. I was more pained than surprised.
I'd caught on that the authorities were trying to paint a
false picture of you as a criminal."
The doctor then let out a long breath.
"It was the same with my younger brother," he said.
"Your brother?"
"Yes. We were far apart in age. Our father passed
away early on, so I raised him like a son. He was abducted
by the Security Bureau five years ago, when he was
eighteen. Take a guess at why."
"Because he refused to declare his loyalty to No. 6?"
"Absolutely right. My brother refused to partake in the
allegiance ritual held at their school every morning. He
didn't like being forced to submit. I think it came from his
youthful pride and sense of justice. And as a human, it
was normal for him to feel this way. My brother was
indeed a proper, normal adolescent. Maybe he was a little
more rebellious and stubborn than most. He was also a
little inexperienced in the ways of the world. My brother
was summoned to the Moondrop the same day, and he
didn't come back until two weeks later."
"He came back?"
"He came back, but he was transformed. I don't mean
dead―he was alive. But he may as well have been dead.
You could see no remnant of the cheerful, active captain
of the basketball team that he used to be. He hardly
spoke or responded to me, and just gazed blankly at the
sky all day, just vacantly stared.... He killed himself not
long after coming home. I can't even bear to think about
what he must have gone through during those two weeks. I
said he killed himself, but in truth, he was murdered by
this city. Our mother collapsed from shock, and she
never... she passed away not more than three days later.
Her will to live was torn from her once she saw what her
beloved son was reduced to. Our mother may as well have
been murdered, too. No, she I believe was. It was
definitely murder." The doctor nodded vehemently as if to
convince himself.
He killed himself.
Shion recalled the doctor's words in his head again.
In the idyllic city of No. 6, cases of suicide were infinitely
close to zero. All citizens were promised blissful and
peaceful lives. But what an empty, artificial promise it
was.
 The doctor bit his lip as if to endure a throbbing pain.
This man had also suffered at the hands of No. 6. Already
how many lives had the city devoured?
Shion clenched his hand into a tight fist.
No. 6 did not permit people to be people, nor for each
to be his own.
Why? he almost screamed. Rou said so. He said he
tried to construct a utopia―one without war,
discrimination, or unhappiness.
When did it go wrong? What went wrong to transform
it into such a ruthless monster? What went wrong―?
The doctor's face unravelled into a smile as his lips
relaxed.
"But Karan was fearless. She continued to open her
shop, bake bread, and put it on the shelves. Every time I
passed Karan's bakery, I couldn't help but breathe in the
delicious aroma of freshly-baked bread. She is amazing for
carrying on her daily work in spite of her loss. She
probably strongly believed that you were going to come
home. I felt pity for Karan, you know. I thought there was
a slim chance, if there was even one, that you were
coming home. I believed if you did come back, you would
be just like my brother. But you did come back, and in one
piece. You came back proper."
"I did change in appearance, though."
"Appearances don't matter, as long as your soul isn't
broken. That's precisely No. 6's plan―to govern human
souls. To rule the hearts, minds, and even thoughts of
people."
Inukashi stifled a huge yawn.
"So tell me what else is new. I thought this was obvious
to you guys already. For us West Block residents, No. 6
ain't no utopia. It's like a bloated, fat vampire."
"A vampire... I can see that." A smile spread across the
doctor's face. "And that vampire is writhing in pain from
the changes occurring in its body. To think―to think this
day has come―ha ha ha! I wish I could have shown this to
my brother and mother! Ha ha ha ha!"
The doctor's laughter gradually gained momentum
until it became a roar. Inukashi furrowed his brow and
recoiled.
"Hey, Shion. Is the doc okay? I mean, up here?" He
pointed at his head. "You sure he hasn't got something
loose in there?"
"He saved Nezumi's life," Shion said sternly.
"Sure didn't do anything for me," retorted Inukashi.
The doctor was still laughing. Shion slowly enunciated
his words as he spoke at the man's trembling back.
"Doctor, can I see Nezumi?"
The laughter stopped. The doctor turned around. The
echoes of his laughter and the residue of his mirth still
swam in his eyes.
 "Nezumi? Ah, you mean that boy. What a peculiar
name. Not his real name, is it?"
"I don't think so."
"And what is?"
He had opened his mouth to say "I don't know" when
the door to the examination room opened a crack. A tall,
thin man was edging his upper body into view. A crow was
perched on his shoulder. The mice gave a terrified
screech. One dove into Shion's pocket, while the other two
squeezed under the belly of a dog with patched fur.
"Yoming, what's the matter?" The doctor strode over to
the man. Yoming whispered something into his ear. The
doctor's eyebrows rose dramatically.
"The Correctional Facility!" The doctor's mouth gaped
open. "The Correctional Facility―is that even possible?"
Yoming answered him. Shion could not catch it. He
didn't want to. Right now, he was in no mood to listen.
I want to see Nezumi. All of his thoughts concentrated
into that one point. His heart pounded in anticipation.
I want see him and know that he's alive.
Shion put his hand on the operating room door.
"He's upstairs." The doctor pointed an index finger
straight up at the ceiling. "There's a recovery room on the
second floor. Aria is attending to him. There's a
direct-route elevator in the operating room, too, but I
want you to use the stairs in the hallway."
 "Thank you, doctor."
"Oh―wait a minute," the doctor said. "Don't tell me
you've come from the Correctional Facility―"
Shion did not hear the last of the doctor's sentence.
He tore into the hallway.
"Hey, wake up, old man! Looks like we're paying
Nezumi a visit. We need to get some flowers."
"Nnngh, what? Who said I ever wanted to go?"
"Quit talking in your sleep and wake the hell up."
Shion left Inukashi and Rikiga bickering behind him,
and dashed up the stairs. His legs faltered for a moment
as he reached the corridor, dimly lit by nighttime lights.
It reminded him of the long, straight corridor of the
Correctional Facility. But this atmosphere was not
impregnated with fear; it did not prick his skin as before.
He exhaled softly.
Only one room by the stairs had the lights on. Shion
regulated his breathing, and gently placed his hand on the
door. It slid silently open.
The room walls were painted a pale yellow. Across
from him, darker yellow curtains were drawn across what
he supposed was a large window.
By the window, the nursing robot was making faint
electronic sounds by the bed. When Shion entered, it
raised its arm as if to reject him.
 "Resting. Resting. Not taking visitors.
The patient is resting. Not taking
visitors."
I see, this robot must be Aria. He bent low to talk to
the robot.
"Aria, thank you. I'm very grateful."
"Grateful. Grateful. Grateful." The nursing
robot's visual sensors flashed, and turned from red to
green. It seemed to have acknowledged Shion's presence.
"Aria, I want you to let me see your patient. I want to
see him really badly. I'll do anything."
Aria's visual sensors stopped flashing―or rather, she
stopped blinking. Her green eyes were fixed on Shion.
"Want to see. Want to see. Request
accepted. Request accepted."
Aria glided across the floor. She retracted her arm,
and settled herself in a corner of the room. She looked
like a quirky but lovable piece of interior decor. The dogs
lay around her peacefully.
Nezumi was sleeping on the bed. He was connected to
many tubes, and his eyes were closed. A tinge of colour
had returned to his cheeks, perhaps thanks to a blood
transfusion. His superfibre cloth was folded neatly and
placed beside the bed, no doubt by Aria.
 Shion bent over Nezumi and took his pulse. It was
faint, but regular. Shion could definitely feel it. A sigh of
relief escaped his lips.
"Nezumi..." He felt his body unravel as he released a
sigh.
He made it. He survived. Shion knelt by the bed and
buried his face in the sheets. He could feel Nezumi's
heartbeat. He wanted to raise his voice and cry―as loudly
as his voice would allow.
He's alive. He's alive. Nezumi's alive.
"I could do with a few more winks." Rikiga yawned,
showing a full array of teeth.
"I'm hungry," Inukashi said. "And my dogs are hungry,
too. It's all good that Nezumi made it, but it ain't gonna be
funny if we die from starvation instead. Ah damnit, I'm
starved!"
"If 'we' die? Don't lump me in with the likes of you."
"You've got nothing to do with it, old man. I'm talking
about me and my dogs. Hey, robot, uh―Aria, was it? Struck
lucky with a pretty name, haven't ya? Doesn't suit you at
all. So, Ms. Aria, can you get us some grub or what?"
"Grub. Grub. Grub. Cannot comprehend.
Cannot comprehend."
"I mean a meal. Patients and injured people still need
to eat, right?" Inukashi made a motion of wolfing
something down.
 "Meal. Understood. Understood."
Aria's torso opened up. A row of three steaming paper
cups appeared. Inukashi whistled, and Rikiga swallowed
hungrily.
"Two more, two more," Inukashi said."For my dogs. And
some bread and meat, if you've got any."
"No meat. Have bread." Her torso opened again.
Two more paper cups and some rolls appeared.
"You're the best. I think I might fall in love with you.
I'd give you a huge kiss."
"I wouldn't do that," Rikiga said. "Think of the poor
robot who has to get a kiss from you. It would probably
stop functioning. Don't turn such a good girl into a lump of
scrap metal. Hm? What's this?"
Rikiga furrowed his brow as he brought the cup away
from his lips.
"It's bland. It may as well be hot water. And this
bread... it doesn't taste like anything."
"It's hospital food, don't complain about it. Look how
easy it was to get hot soup and bread. Can't beat No. 6. In
the West Block, you could only dream of a feast like this.
Right, Shion?"
"Yeah. It's really tasty." He was not simply going along
with Inukashi. He really found it delicious.
This taste almost matched that of the rich soup that
Nezumi made on the day he had escaped to the West
Block―the day he had miraculously lived through the
wasp's attack.
It soaked into his body, quenched his soul, and revived
him. Just one cup of soup restored his confidence that he
would live through another day.
It's delicious.
Nezumi, wake up. Wake up so you can sip this cup of
soup. Look at me again with those eyes full of life.
"Mm..." Nezumi shifted. The whiteness of the bandage
around his shoulder and chest stung Shion's eyes.
"Nezumi, Nezumi!" Shion called to him. He poured his
soul into the name he had called so many times before.
Nezumi's eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly.
"He's probably still knocked out from the anaesthesia,"
Rikiga said. "He won't be waking up for a while. Hmm, but
even a devil like him looks like an angel when he's all
quiet and asleep like this. Strange, isn't it?" he murmured
pensively.
"Hah, you still hung up on him, old man? How many
times have you been shafted because you were fooled by
his looks?"
"I've been shafted enough times, with or without his
good looks. By both Eve and you." Rikiga sighed. "Am I just
going to spend the rest of my life being bossed around by
rude, filthy brats? Just thinking about it makes me
depressed. I need a drink to stomach this. Lady Aria, you
don't happen to have some booze on you, do you?"
 "Booze. Booze. Booze. Cannot comprehend.
Unable to process your request."
"Alcohol. You know, I want something that'll hit me in
the guts with some oomph."
"We have: alcohol antiseptic. We have:
disinfectant alcohol. We have: sterilization
alcohol. Which one do you need? Which one do
you need?"
"I don't need any of that. I don't need antisepsis, nor
do I need to be disinfected or sterilized. God, what a
useless princess." Rikiga clicked his tongue.
Inukashi turned aside and laughed discreetly. Shion
also couldn't help but twitch the corners of his mouth.
Rikiga wore a wry smile. The three glanced at each other
and laughed for some time.
"I never expected you'd make it back like this,"
Inukashi murmured thoughtfully after their laughter had
died down.
"Me neither," Shion agreed.
"Not to mention that bonus work you guys did with the
Correctional Facility. I have a bit of a new regard for you,
to tell you the truth. I honestly never expected―had no
clue how you'd pull it off. I thought you guys would never
be able to escape through the garbage chute."
"It's thanks to you and Rikiga-san, Inukashi."
"Thanks to us, huh. Say, Shion..."
 "Hm?"
"Didn't it ever cross your mind that we might not show
up at the waste depot? What if we pulled a no-show, or we
showed up but left early―you didn't think about that at
all?"
Shion searched his soul for a moment at Inukashi's
question. What had he thought back then? He searched,
then gave an answer.
"I didn't think of it at all." He gazed into Inukashi's
eyes. "That never even crossed my mind. I believed that
you and Rikiga-san would be there. Nezumi must have
thought so, too. I'm sure he had solid belief in you."
"Well, that's all great and nice for you, but let me say
that we... well, I dunno about the old man, but... I don't
owe nothing to you guys. I didn't have an obligation to
wait in there."
"Me neither," Rikiga chimed in. "I might have my share
of grudges, but I don't have any obligation or debts to
owe, either." He clucked his tongue repeatedly.
"Lemme tell you something, Shion," Inukashi stabbed a
sharp-clawed index finger in Shion's direction. "Don't think
I got myself involved in this hell of a mess for free. You
guys owe me now. You best be prepared, 'cause I'm putting
hefty interest on it."
"I'll have you know that I'm going to be sending out an
invoice addressed to Eve as well. He's made me spend
quite a bit of money, taking everything into account. I
wouldn't be able to rest in peace if I didn't get reimbursed
for that at least."
Inukashi and Rikiga grimaced at the same time as if
they had rehearsed it. Shion suppressed a laugh and
nodded solemnly. He didn't care how astronomical the
interest rate was, or how exorbitant the invoice was. The
two had stayed and waited for them. In that hygiene
management room, where life and death jostled each
other, they had continued to wait, believing that Shion
and Nezumi would return alive.
He bit his lip.
Safu had also been waiting. She had been waiting for
Shion. She was probably waiting for him, not to say
goodbye, but to escape together with him.
I couldn't hold up my end.
He had not been able to give her what Rikiga and
Inukashi had given him.
"Hey, Shion." Inukashi hugged his knees and leaned
closer. "Whaddaya think is gonna happen to the West
Block?"
"The West Block, huh..."
"Yeah. No. 6 is spiralling into chaos, by the looks of it.
The Correctional Facility is gone. The gates are blown
apart. Maybe that wall―the wall that separates the West
Block and No. 6―maybe that'll break down too. Ya think?"
"Yeah. In fact, it most likely will."
 Inukashi swallowed, and curled up just slightly.
"So, if that happens, I wonder what everyone in the
West Block is gonna do. How would they face people
who've treated them like crap all this time? Would they
take their anger out on them? Would they storm into No.
6? Would they fight, or run away... wonder what they'll do?
When I think about it, I just... well, it makes my head
spin."
"Mm-hmm..." Inukashi was right. It made his head spin,
too. A world without walls: it was beyond his imagination.
What would hold ground there? Surely not just peace and
open freedom. How would the West Block's wind, swirling
with hatred and anguish, blow against No. 6?
It simply exceeded his imagination.
"Turn the lights out," said a low, cutting voice.
"Wh―Eve, are you―?" Rikiga fell speechless.
Nezumi was sitting upright. His dark grey eyes glinted
sharply. "Turn off the lights. Quickly," he repeated.
Inukashi's nose twitched. He jumped to his feet, and
pressed the electric switch. All the lights were cut, and
darkness fell over Shion's vision like a veil.
"Nezumi, what―"
"Shh!"
Nezumi moved in the darkness. He pulled out all the
tubes that were inserted into his arm. He slipped to the
floor and knelt down.
 "Keep quiet. Don't even move."
Inukashi shivered.
Time passed. One minute, two minutes, three
minutes... suddenly, noise erupted from downstairs.
Footsteps, shouting, screaming, then gunshots.
"Run! It's the Security Bureau!"
"Don't move. Move, and we will shoot."
"Run! Get out of here!"
"All you traitors are under arrest."
"Kill them, it's no big matter."
"Their leader is getting away! Get him, and kill him!"
Those were the few words that Shion's ears managed
to catch.
He curled up in the darkness.
He curled up and sat still, feeling Nezumi's warmth
and breathing right beside him.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
CHAPTER 4
Out, out, brief candle

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
 The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle.
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage . . .
-Shakespeare, Macbeth Act V Scene V[1]

Just once, he heard footsteps approach. Someone was

trying to run up the stairs. But the footsteps died along
with a gunshot, a scream, and someone tumbling down the
stairs. He didn't have to see it to know what happened.
The same stairs that Shion had flown up moments ago was
probably spattered with someone's blood.
Not only the stairs. The floor, the entrance, and the
consultation room were probably smeared with blood and
littered with broken objects in a horrific scene. A body or
two probably lay on the floor.
What about the doctor? What had become of the man
who saved Nezumi's life?
"Don't move." Nezumi restrained his arm. "Don't move
yet."
Shion, Inukashi, and Rikiga all held their breaths and
tensed as if they were bound by his words. Even the dogs
lay low to the floor, unmoving like boulders, save to growl
softly at the footsteps.
One minute, two minutes, three minutes....
"Freedom for No. 6! Freedom for all of us!" A hoarse,
high-pitched scream resounded, its gender indiscernible.
Right afterwards, angry voices and the sound of fierce
beatings were heard through the window.
It's the same. Shion made a fist. His palm was damp
with perspiration.
It was the same―no different from the Hunt in the
West Block. The brutality he had seen under the thick
snow clouds was taking place again right here.
Stealthily within the walls, openly outside of them―that
was the only difference.
The sweat stung the countless cuts on his palm and
made it throb slightly. Sweat streamed down his cheek,
and entered his mouth.
In No. 6, he used to feel trapped and suffocated, like
being forced to wear clothes that didn't quite fit. But until
Nezumi had saved him and they had begun to live in the
West Block, he had never had much difficulty dealing with
these vague doubts and feelings of suffocation. Not until
he was given a chance to look at No. 6 from the outside.
In fact, he had taken comfort in No. 6's cleanliness and
abundant lifestyle. It was true. He had been devouring this
comfort and taking it for granted. Back then, the Security
Bureau's existence hardly crossed his mind. It never had
to; the days still went by. On the surface, time passed
peacefully without incidence.
When had it all begun?
Shion was wheeling his bike across the park after his
shift. He was allowed to ride his bicycle in the park, as
long as he didn't go over the speed limit. But the spring
sunset was so beautiful that Shion had felt like taking a
stroll to take it all in.
The sky was divided into dark pink, red, and carmine.
The streaming clouds caught the sun, their edges
glittering golden. The sweet fragrance of the flowers
blended with the refreshing scent of new leaves,
enveloping the passersby.
"Ah, the end of another day."
"It was wonderful, wasn't it?"
"All's right with the world, as they say. What do you
say to topping it all off with a mouthwatering meal and
some excellent wine?"
"Oh, how splendid. That sounds great."
He could hear the lighthearted conversation of a
young man and woman―were they lovers, husband and
wife, or good friends?
They're right. It's a perfect evening to enjoy wine over
a nice meal in the company of someone close, Shion had
thought, feeling a comfortable sort of weariness and
hunger himself.
All's right with the world.
Neither Shion nor that man or woman had any clue
about what lurked in the depths of that day. Most people
didn't. It wasn't because of the dreamy spring evening.
Through hot summer days, sleety mornings, in autumn
sunsets, they had never noticed.
 The majority of the citizens were neither concerned
nor interested about the Security Bureau. They probably
had no idea that it would bare its fangs so ferociously at
the slightest voice of protest from the citizens. They
thought of the Security Bureau as an organization that
maintained and protected their safety―an organization for
the people―were they not? And they believed in this
clause―
No. 6 exists for its citizens. It exists to ensure a
plentiful and comfortable life for its citizens. No
one shall be permitted to threaten the safety,
activities, and lives of the citizens in any way
whatsoever.
They believed the city would also abide by this clause
of its own City Charter. The people relied upon the city,
left everything in its hands, and unwittingly allowed
themselves to be pulled along by its flow.
And this was the result.
The sweat stung in his wounds. Nezumi's hand was still
restraining Shion's arm.
If this was the result, then Nezumi―where did we go
wrong? Do you know the answer?
No―I'm the one that needs to know the answer, not
you. I was born as a No. 6 citizen, reaped all of its
benefits, and lived without any concern for the outside or
inside. I'm the one who has to reach out and grasp the
answer, in exchange for always choosing the comfort of
lending myself to the least resistant path, rather than
struggling against the current.
I know. Meeting you has taught me, and so have the
words we exchanged and the days we spent together. I
need an answer that I've grasped with my own hands,
rather than one that's been prepared for me.
Mine, and not someone else's.
Or else I'll end up with the same result again.
"They weren't after us, then." Shion sensed Inukashi
twitching his nose in the dark. "I was totally under the
impression that... the doctor tipped the Bureau off. Looks
like that wasn't it."
"No, it definitely wasn't."
Traitors. That was what the Bureau officials had said.
The target of their sting had not been Shion, but the
others―the doctor, and Yoming.
Inukashi twitched his nose again. "Nezumi... aren't we
safe now?"
"Wait. It's still too early."
"Tsk, paranoid as always."
One minute, two minutes, three minutes....
"Hey, Nezumi."
"Don't rush. But―alright, it should be fine now. Don't
turn on the lights. Leave them off, and move quietly."
 Nezumi pushed the door slightly ajar, and whistled
softly. Hamlet poked his head out from Shion's pocket,
alighted on the floor, and dashed through the open crack.
Momentarily, a lighthearted squeak greeted them.
Cheep cheep, chit-chit-chit.
Cheep cheep, chit-chit-chit.
"Alright, let's go downstairs. Avoid the elevator, just in
case." Nezumi swiftly wrapped the superfibre cloth around
himself, and slipped into the hallway.
"What the hell was that?" Shion saw Rikiga's mouth
gaping open by the light that spilled in from the hallway.
"Wasn't he unconscious just now? Or was that an act, too?
Playing the part of a prince on his deathbed?"
Inukashi shrugged.
"He ain't no prince. He's an animal. Like a savage
beast. No way he can sleep in the face of oncoming
danger. He sensed the Security Bureau guys before my
nose could sniff them out, damnit. Pisses me off."
"I see. Now I have a good idea of how Eve could have
survived this far. With instincts as sharp as those, and that
cautiousness to boot..."
"Falling in love all over again, old man?"
"I just confirmed my notion that he doesn't have an
ounce of good in him."
The humans, dogs, and mice crept down the stairs
cautiously, step by step. There was a pool of blood in the
stairwell. At the bottom of the stairs was the owner of
that blood, a man in his forties or fifties lying on his back.
The lower floor was just as grisly as Shion imagined.
Blood had sprayed the walls and the floor. There was
broken glass and furniture strewn about, all soiled with
dirt and blood. At the end of the hall, a blue-grey door
was half-open. The room was dark and the air inside
cold―a basement room, perhaps.
A man lay slumped against the door, and the nurse at
his feet. A figure clad in a lab coat lay a few metres away.
The three of them were perfectly still.
"Doctor!" Shion ran to him and lifted him up in his arms.
The chest of the man's lab coat was dyed in blood.
"Doctor, answer me, please."
His words felt painfully empty as they escaped his lips.
The doctor was clearly almost dead. There was no
hope for him.
"Doctor, doctor! Open your eyes, please," Shion
continued to implore with empty words. That was all he
could do.
The door to the consulting room opened, and Aria
appeared, evidently from the elevator.
"Vital signs: none. Vital signs: none.
Vital signs―minimal. Minimal."
The doctor's eyelids slowly lifted.
"Vital signs: minimal. Commencing
treatment."
 Several tubes extended from Aria's torso, and
connected to the doctor's body.
"Aria... don't. It's no use..."
"No use. No use... cannot comprehend.
Continuing treatment."
"Doctor, what... why did this happen?"
"...He... broadcasting... from the basement of this
clinic... calling... on his comrades to defeat No. 6
together..."
"Vital signs: minimal. Probability of
recovery: one percent. One percent."
"I wanted revenge... on No. 6... revenge..."
"Doctor," Shion pleaded.
"I wanted to... destroy this world... and build it...
anew."
Suddenly the doctor dug his fingers into Shion's arm.
"Shion," the man called his name in a clear, strong
voice. "I leave this in your hands."
His eyes were open wide, fixed intently on Shion.
"I leave it... in your hands. Don't ever make... No. 6...
this kind of city... again. Please. I'm leaving it to you."
The doctor's fingers slipped out of his own. The light
went out of his eyes as they glazed over. His whole body
convulsed.
 Then, it was over.
"Vital signs: minimal. Minimal. Unable to
register. Unable to register. Aborting
treatment."
"Doctor..."
Shion laid the man down, and put a hand over his
eyelids. With his eyes closed, the doctor looked peaceful
and relaxed.
"Leave it to you, huh." Inukashi let out a long sigh.
"You guys are the ones who built No. 6 in the first place,"
he said to the doctor's body. "But once something goes
wrong and it spins out of control, you just shove it off
onto someone else? Not exactly a friendly gift to leave to
someone, is it? A little selfish, don't you think, doctor? I
guess it's none of my business, though."
"Inukashi, what good is it to mouth off at a dead man?
He's not going to hear any of it. Poor guy." Rikiga clasped
his hands in front of his chest and bowed his head.
"The hell are you doing?" Inukashi asked.
"I'm praying to God, can't you tell? O God, please
forgive this sinful man. May you bless his soul and let him
rest in peace by your side."
"Hah, you don't even believe in God. What an act. Oh,
wait―you must be praying to God Moneybags Almighty,
right, old man?"
 "Rotten kid," spat Rikiga. "You never get tired of
spewing insults, do you? Once this settles down, you're in
for it. You remember that." Rikiga unclasped his hands and
rolled his shoulder joints.
"So, what now?" he said. "We've accomplished our big
goal of destroying the Correctional Facility. As for me, I'm
in the mood for heading back to the West Block and
crawling into bed. I feel like curling up and dreaming
about digging up gold from underneath the Correctional
Facility. I'd wake up to the best morning ever. It puts me in
a good mood already."
"Old man, you can be sarcastic all you want, but
Nezumi's not gonna respond. I'd get a better response out
of complaining to that corpse over there." Inukashi
chuckled spiritedly, his shoulders shaking with his laughter.
"But truth be told, I'm all for crawling into bed myself.
And, well, there are a lot of things that I want to mull
over. It doesn't help that it's kinda creepy being inside No.
6. It gives me a bad vibe, makes my skin crawl. Shion,
don't you wanna go home, too? It's not too far from here,
is it? Your mum must be waiting for you."
"Yeah..." Shion's house was within walking distance
from here.
"Don't you wanna see your mum again?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Karan, huh. I'd like to see her too," Rikiga murmured
wistfully.
 Mom, there's no telling how much I've probably made
you worry. I want you to see that I'm doing well. I want
you to see that I'm safe. I want to say sorry. I want to
apologize from the bottom of my heart. Mom, I'm sorry.
Shion was overwhelmed with nostalgia and love for his
mother. He remembered the scent of freshly-baked bread.
Yearning. Love. I wish I could see you.
But the only place he wanted to return to was that
basement room littered with books. He wanted to go back
to that room and its countless volumes, the bed, the
stove, and the tattered chair.
I want to go home.
Shion burned with longing.
I want to bring back those days, those moments I
spent with Nezumi in that room. I would give up anything.
But he would not return. Those days had long passed,
never to come within his grasp again.
Ever.
It was a premonition―a premonition which he almost
certainly believed would come true. Shion purposely
averted his eyes from it. He knew well it was a sign of
weakness, but he did it anyway.
Shion stood up and turned to face Nezumi.
"Can you move?"
"Somewhat."
 Nezumi lifted himself up from where he was leaning
on the wall, and let out a long breath. A thin sheen of
sweat covered his forehead.
"Aria, can you measure his blood pressure, pulse, and
body temperature? Based on that, tell me what an
appropriate treatment for him would be."
"Understood. Understood. Blood pressure,
pulse, body temperature, commencing
measurements. Commencing measurements."
"No need." Nezumi shook his head in refusal. "It's a
waste of time."
He brushed off Aria's extended pipes, and sighed
again.
"M'lady, with all due respect, allow me to politely
decline your offer. We don't have time for treatment."
Aria blinked, and her eyes turned yellow.
"Due respect, decline, time. Cannot
comprehend. Cannot comprehend. Aborting
measurements."
"Nezumi, you plan to go?"
"Of course."
Inukashi and Rikiga looked at each other.
"Go where?" Rikiga asked. Inukashi scowled in silence.
"To city hall," Shion answered.
"City hall? You mean the Moondrop?"
 "Yes."
"Wh―do you know what state that place is in right
now?" Rikiga exclaimed. "I mean, I don't know myself,
but... it's sure to be chaos. The Security Bureau is cracking
down on citizens left and right―shot some of them, even.
They've probably gotten word of what happened to the
Correctional Facility. The rest of the people will find out
about it soon―No. 6 doesn't have the power to suppress
the spread of information like it used to. The confusion is
only going to get worse. It'll be completely out of control."
"That's why we're going." Nezumi smiled wanly. Nezumi
had countless deft ways to smile. This one was a cold
smile with a hint of mockery.
"It's our once-in-a-lifetime chance to see No. 6
perform its last dying shriek on stage. We better hurry, or
we won't even get standing seats."
"With the state you're in?" Rikiga replied incredulously.
"You can't do it, Eve. Sure, you might be stronger than you
look, but you're human. You have limits. Don't do it. No. 6
will play its star role even if we're not in the audience. It'll
pull off its role of the wretched, self-destructing giant
with flying colours."
"You're telling me to throw away this chance and
retreat with my tail between my legs?"
"Yes. You two destroyed the Correctional Facility, and
that definitely helped trigger the demise of No. 6. That's
amazing, and you've done enough. More than enough. Eve,
Shion, don't go further than this. Back off and let nature
take its course. It's time for you two to retreat backstage."
"Being backstage staff is not my style," Nezumi said.
"Neither is throwing away a chance that's already in my
hands."
"Your greed is bottomless," Rikiga said in disgust.
"Listen to me, don't make me say this again. Your part is
over. It's not worth it to risk your lives to stand onstage."
Shion stood in front of Rikiga and shook his head.
"Rikiga-san, we have to go. We have to go, no matter
what."
"Shion, you too? Why? What for? You were able to
escape the Correctional Facility, a damn miracle it was.
Why won't you retreat to where it's safe? Doesn't your life
mean anything to you?"
"We're not going because we want to die," Shion said
firmly. "We're going because he's the only one who can
stop Elyurias."
"Elyurias?" Rikiga's eyes darted about. "What is that?
Someone's name?"
"She's the queen who once ruled over this land. I don't
know if 'queen' is the right name for her―she never tried
to dominate her subjects or drain their wealth like humans
do. She only protected the rules of the forest, and the
workings of nature."
 "Shion... what are you talking about?" Rikiga drew his
chin back. A bead of sweat rolled along his jawline, across
his five-o'clock shadow.
"Humans―the humans who attempted to build No. 6 on
this land trampled Elyurias' land and tried to reign over
everything within it. They burnt the forests, massacred
the Forest People, and tried to build a world that was
solely for themselves. Only their own abundance, their
own wealth, their own safety and prosperity was their
concern. They built a disconnected utopia on a foundation
of others' sacrifices."
"Shion," Nezumi called. It was a quiet, beautiful voice.
"You know everything?"
"No. What I know is probably only a small part. I only
read what was in Rou's chip."
Nezumi sank to the floor. He curled up, and muttered,
"I see."
"Hey, keep going," Rikiga said. "I still have no idea
what you're talking about. Sounds like complete gibberish.
So how is Elyuri-what's-her-face related to what's
happening to No. 6? What do you mean when you say Eve
is the only one who can stop her? Shion, give me the
details."
"I'd love to hear all about it, too." Inukashi clicked his
tongue lightly. His hands were full with numerous bags.
"What―where did you go? What is all that?"
 "Clothes and food. Bland soup and bread just doesn't
do it for me. And besides, if we're going to watch a play, I
think we need to look a little more decent. They wouldn't
even let us in the standing seats."
Inukashi dug out a chunk of meat and a roll from the
bag, and tossed it at the dogs. The dogs promptly pounced
without even raising their voices. The mice skilfully
stopped a tumbling roll, and lined up to nibble at it.
"Good. Eat," Inukashi said proudly. "Eat as much as you
want. You guys worked hard. You did a good job. This is
your reward. Heh heh, that's the amazing thing about No.
6. Even a clinic in the middle of nowhere like this has a
kitchen full of food. Not to mention expensive-looking
clothes. Heh heh, heh heh heh heh, this place is full of
top-notch items. I could get a good price for this in the
West Block."
"You've come this far and you're still thieving?" Rikiga
said.
"Who cares? The doctor is dead. Dead people don't
need food or clothes."
"Well... I guess you're right. Hey, pass me some ham,
bread, and those blue pants."
"I'll sell them to you for one silver piece."
"Inukashi, you bastard, you just said goodbye to your
ride," Rikiga snarled. "You can walk back to the West
Block."
 "I was kidding, yeesh! Old man has no sense of humour.
That's why all the women trick you out of your money.
Anyway, come on, let's eat. We gotta prepare for the road
ahead."
Inukashi turned a bag upside down. Ham, apples and
bread tumbled out.
"Let's have a banquet while we listen to the story
Shion The Great has got to tell. Sounds like an interesting
one."
Inukashi's eyes glittered from underneath his long
bangs. His pink tongue flitted across his lips again and
again.
"Maybe he'll tell us who Nezumi really is. This is bound
to be interesting. In fact, I'm way more interested in this
than a drama starring No. 6, to be honest."
Shion scooped up an apple.
"Nezumi, can you eat?"
"Ah, I haven't recovered to that point yet. I'm not
hungry."
"I figured as much. Aria, can you give him some
glucose solution?"
"Understood. Understood. Commencing
glucose transfusion."
"I'd like a transfusion of wine," Rikiga chimed in.
 "You'll have to settle with grape juice. There were two
bottles in the fridge." Inukashi handed a bottle of
reddish-purple liquid to Rikiga.
"Alright, Shion. We're all ready. Spit out everything you
know." His pink tongue flitted across his lips again. Shion
peered at Nezumi, apple still in hand.
"Nezumi... is it alright?"
Nezumi inclined his head very slightly. He propped his
knees up, and put his face down on his arms. He looked
like he was either crying, or bearing a wind that was
blowing against him.
Shion took a bite of the apple. Its tart juice burst
inside his mouth.
Inukashi and Rikiga leaned forward, Inukashi clutching
a piece of bread and ham in each of his hands, and Rikiga
gripping a bottle of grape juice.
The two had put their lives in the balance for Shion
and Nezumi. They had acted on Shion and Nezumi's word
with next to no knowledge of what they were doing. In
other words, they had believed in the two boys. They had
invested their lives into their belief. Telling them
everything was the only way to match the leap of trust
they took, and to answer to their dedication.
He knew Nezumi must feel the same.
Shion began to speak.
 I don't think I need to tell you about how No. 6 was
created. Humankind tried to build a utopia once again on
this planet, which was half destroyed by human hands.
Before No. 6 was born, this area was a miraculously
preserved stretch of beautiful, abundant forest. I said
miraculous, but this land―its forests, woods, and lakes―
was actually meant to survive. Elyurias and the Forest
People protected this realm. It was because of her that
this land's wildlife was spared damage.
No one can explain who or what Elyurias is. Even the
name Elyurias was given to her by a researcher. ―I met
him, in the basement of the Correctional Facility.

"Basement of the Correctional Facility?" Rikiga choked

on his juice and had a coughing fit. "So there was a
basement in there, after all!"
"There was."
"How about gold bullion? Was there gold bullion in
there, Shion?"
"Gold? No. There were people living underground.
Back when the Correctional Facility wasn't such a brutal
and vigilant incarceration facility, people who escaped but
couldn't return above ground began to build their own
underground world in secret. The leader of this group was
called Rou."
"...So there was no gold, after all." Rikiga hunched
over, clearly crestfallen. Inukashi guffawed, baring his
teeth.

Rou was a member of a revival project team chosen to

design and build No. 6 on this land. Before No. 6 was
created, there used to be a small, pretty town at the edge
of the forest. People who survived through the waste and
decay lived modestly here in a tightly-knit community.
This town was the mother of No. 6.
Bright young people were chosen from that town to
form a team to build a utopian city.

"My town." Rikiga drew himself up. "That's the town I

was born and raised in. It used to be called the Town of
Roses―that's how beautiful it was. Karan also used to live
there."
"No one asked you, old man." Inukashi bared his teeth
even more. "If you're not gonna shut up, I'll tear apart your
throat for you."
"I'd like to see you try. You can rip my throat out, but
I'll still keep talking. Oh, yes, that revival project team. I
heard about them. Back in those days, I was still a pimply
youngster chasing after girls and blushing at their ankles.
They were holding some kind of selection exam to gather
skilled young people from the science fields to make a
brighter future for humankind. Yes, yes, I remember."
Rikiga folded his arms and nodded enthusiastically.
 "That was how No. 6 began. And not long after that,
No. 6 was born as the sixth and best, most optimal utopian
city. It grew at an astonishing speed."
"And before you knew it, you dropout failures were
shoved outside the walls. Pity," Inukashi said nastily.
"You should be the one keeping your mouth shut,
Inukashi. I'll yank out that long tongue of yours and turn it
into mincemeat. In those days, I'd just become a
journalist. The fact that the city-state was walling itself
in, trying to build a barrier around itself, just seemed
really shady to me. I wrote a whole slew of articles that
talked about it. It was natural that I was thrown out of the
city. It was around that time that No. 6 became more and
more intolerant and domineering."
It was precisely that.
No. 6 grew at a stunning rate. Its infrastructure,
governing bodies and regulations were swiftly and skilfully
laid out. In the midst of it all, Rou met Elyurias.
Rou himself wasn't able to define Elyurias well―was
she a forest spirit? Or a species of animal unknown to
humankind?
The only thing he knew for sure was that Elyurias
existed long before the birth of humankind, protecting
this land. The Forest People worshipped her, revered her,
and lived in harmony with her.
 "Right, so who are these 'forest people' that you keep
talking about?"
"Will you shut up, old man? Can't you listen quietly for
once? Geez." Inukashi gave an exaggerated sigh.
Shion turned and glanced at Nezumi slumped against
the wall. His eyes were closed. His profile was beautiful,
but it looked somewhat artificial.
"Glucose transfusion, 50% complete. 50%
complete. Continuing transfusion." Aria's eyes
blinked green.
Nezumi said nothing. His eyes remained meditatively
shut, his body perfectly still.
According to Nezumi, the Forest People are those who
have made the forest their home. Since ancient times,
they've lived in harmony with the wind, the earth, lakes
and rivers, and the sky.
To borrow Rou's words, the forest is a place both of
their birth and upbringing. They nurtured, respected, and
continued to protect the forest. They lived peacefully
within the bounds of nature without desiring prosperity or
development. Even those who lived in the Town of Roses
had no idea about their existence.
Elyurias' power wasn't what allowed the abundant
forest to survive on this land. It was because the Forest
People protected it. Through the long, perpetual flow of
time, they continued to protect the forest.
 Nezumi is a descendant of those Forest People.

Inukashi shifted.
Rikiga let his empty juice bottle roll across the floor. It
continued to roll until it hit the doctor's arm, and stopped.

Nezumi is a descendant of the Forest People. He's also

a descendant of the "Singers".

"Singers?"
"Yes, Singers―those who had the power to appease
Elyurias and converse with her. There were always a
number of Singers among the Forest People."
Neither Elyurias nor nature were embodiments of pure
compassion and generosity. On the contrary, they could
easily turn terrifying. The Forest People knew this.
Both nature and Elyurias could bare their fangs and
attack suddenly at any time. Their power was absolute―no
human could compare. That made them all the more
dreadful.
Yes, the Forest People knew fear. They knew how to
fear as well as revere. Singers could appease Elyurias'
wrath with their voices, and were able to exchange words
with her. They had the ability to mediate between humans
and nature. Nezumi had this ability, and so did his mother.
 Rou ventured deep into the forest, met Elyurias and
the Forest People, and reported their existence to No. 6.
He had no idea that this had planted the seed for the Mao
Massacre.

"The Mao Massacre?" Creases appeared between

Rikiga's eyebrows.
"Yes. 'Mao' apparently refers to the area near the
lakeshore where the Forest People lived. They had a
settlement there. It's where the airport is now. Apparently
the lake was drained to build the airport. I had no idea."
"I didn't know, either," Rikiga said. "I was already
kicked out when they started building it. A massacre,
huh... which means No. 6 must have invaded the Mao area
and tried to wipe out its residents?"
"Yes."
"What for? Did they need land for the airport?"
"No. What they really wanted was Elyurias."
"What for?"
What for. Rikiga kept repeating the same question.
What for, what for. Really, what was this for? What
made people this brutal, this ruthless?
Shion looked down at the doctor's body. It had lost all
its human warmth and was now a cold corpse. The nurse
lay beyond it, and beyond her lay an unnamed man.
 What made them capable of taking the lives of others
so easily?
In the short instant that he closed his eyes, he could
see the Hunt unfold again behind his eyelids. He could
hear the groans of the people loaded onto the truck's
cargo bed. In his ears rang the screams of the people who
had died, piled on top of each other in the basement of
the Correctional Facility.
What for?
Perplexity―not anger―snagged Shion and would not
release him. Also, fear.
What set him apart from the central figures of No. 6?
Hadn't Rou said so himself? Everyone was young; everyone
had hopes to build a utopian city.
It had taken mere decades for these hopes and ideals
to mutate. Mere decades. Shion swallowed his breath.
What kind of person will I be in a few decades? Would
I still be able to hold the same hopes and ideals that I
have now, at age sixteen? Would I be connected in any
form with this kind of brutality?
The terror was enough to make him shiver.

What did they want Elyurias for? Her special powers.

"Special powers?" Inukashi's mouth fell open as he

stared at Shion.
 "Yeah. Elyurias embodies the form of a wasp."
"Wasp? Like those things that fly around flowers and
stuff?"
"Those would be honeybees. Elyurias is a parasitic
wasp. She lays eggs in her hosts."
Inukashi's mouth fell open wider. No words came out.

The eggs hatch inside the host's body. They grow

without the host's knowledge, become pupae, and emerge
as adults. They tear through the host's body to escape,
leaving him behind like an empty shell. This is what's
happening to No. 6 right now.
Elyurias' children are all beginning to hatch. They're
children who fed off No. 6 citizens in order to grow.
I told you earlier that Elyurias looks like a wasp. But
she isn't one. No one knows who or what she really is. Rou
has recorded that he thinks she might be between a
human and a god. That's why she―since she lays eggs, I'll
call her a 'she', but I don't think there's much meaning to
distinguishing her sex. Maybe she's taken the form of a
wasp because it was a convenient form for her to lay eggs
inside the hosts. Maybe she only appears as a wasp to
human eyes.
She has an enormous intellect―and intellect that far
surpasses that of humankind. And she had the power to
exert perfect control over the hosts.
 Because of that power, the hosts were programmed to
take actions that were favourable to the children of
Elyurias, oblivious to the fact that they were being
leeched from. For example, their instincts for sensing
danger were honed, and they became increasingly
sensitive to their nutrition. They were controlled to take
every effort to maintain a healthy body; their
personalities turned gentle; they began to avoid disputes.
It makes sense that No. 6 citizens were the only targets.
Think about how malnourished the West Block people are,
coupled with their substandard environment... as hosts,
they were out of the question. Nezumi mentioned before
that the parasitic wasps have gourmet tastes. He turned
out to be right.

"Ironic, ain't it," Inukashi muttered. "We starved, we

froze, we didn't know when we would die... but because
of that, we West Block residents were spared."
"These were the absolutely necessary conditions for
the eggs: the host needed to be alive when they hatched,
and the host needed to be healthy. Even Elyurias couldn't
turn the West Block into a paradise. But she didn't need
to."
"You've already got the best hosts you could ask for in
No. 6."
"That's right."
"The wasps controlled the humans?" This time, it was
Rikiga who opened his mouth. He breathed raggedly.
 "Yes. They can make people act according to their
every whim. It's not unusual for parasitic organisms. A
certain schisotome blindfolds the human immune system
and makes it think that it's harmless. A species of parasitic
wasp injects its DNA into the caterpillar that it chooses as
its host, and disables the caterpillar's immune system
completely. But I don't think there's any other example of
a highly-functional parasitic organism like Elyurias, who
chooses humans as her host and controls them completely
without the host's knowledge."
"...And No. 6 wanted that power―the power to
completely control and dominate over humans." Rikiga
made a choked noise in his throat. It was a dry, brittle
sound, similar to the frigid winter wind.

No. 6 had tried to attain Elyurias' power.

They came to know of this mystical power through
Rou's investigative reports, and tried to use it in building
their government.
Elyurias' characteristics remained a mystery; however,
everyone in No. 6 thought of her as a mere insect, a
mutant species. They did not think of her as a being
halfway between man and god, like Rou did. Not one of
them saw her as such. Every person believed firmly that
no being more superior than man existed.
Elyurias was nothing but a queen bee with an
unusually large intellect. It would be no large task training
her and controlling her according to their needs―that was
what they believed.
An investigative squad was formed for the capture of
Elyurias, and they set foot into the forest. There, they
met adamant resistance by the Forest People.
Elyurias did not constantly reside in the forest. She
appeared once every few years, or once every few
decades―always unexpectedly. Everything about her―what
the necessary conditions were for her appearance, when
she laid eggs, and how long she lived afterwards―was a
mystery. After she laid her eggs, Elyurias always
disappeared. She withdrew from human eyes. A new
queen bee emerged from one of the eggs she laid. It was
never clear whether that was going to be a few years or
decades later.
No one has seen Elyurias' body. From the time this
forest appeared on this land, Elyurias had been repeating
the same routine, but not a single person had ever seen
her corpse.
Among the Forest People, it was said that Elyurias was
immortal, that she revived endless times―that her corpse
decayed somewhere where no eye could see, and became
the forest itself.
When Elyurias appeared, the Forest People appeased
her with song. They prayed and pleaded with her that
they would not become hosts. They carried out rituals,
and offered a Godly Bed. The Godly Bed was a type of
man-made host, prepared from animal brains. It was an
offering for implantation. Led on by the song, Elyurias
would lay her eggs there. After the eggs were laid, the
Godly Bed never seemed to rot or dry out; instead, it
maintained an adequate level of moisture and freshness
until it rotted away with the emergence of the adult
wasp.
Yes, it was the same―the same way in which human
hosts aged and died within the blink of an eye
immediately after the adult wasps emerged.
The Forest People protected the Godly Bed with their
bodies and souls. It was part of their promise with her.
This rule had been passed on for ages. As long as the
Forest People continued to protect the Godly Bed, Elyurias
did not inflict any harm on them. She not only protected
the people, but the forest and its land.
That was the rule.
No. 6 had burst onto the scene and wrenched
everything from them. They had burned down the
settlement of the Forest People when they resisted; they
had massacred women, children, and the elderly
indiscriminately. They had taken the Godly Bed back to
No. 6.
The Mao Massacre―the demise of the Forest People.
This incident took place just twelve years ago.
 Shion sucked in a huge breath, and exhaled. He felt
like there was no other way to let the air reach every
corner of his body.
"From here on is my guesswork, not Rou's records. I'm
positive that it's true."
Rikiga leaned forward as if to encourage him.
Inukashi, on the other hand, shrank back. He grimaced as
if he had smelled some unbearable stench.
"The upper echelons of No. 6 probably attempted to
hatch Elyurias' eggs artificially in the Godly Bed that they'd
brought back, and failed. They had no Singers, and
therefore couldn't maintain the Godly Bed. Nonetheless,
they refused to acknowledge anything other than scientific
proof. But through their countless failures, one thing they
realized was that the most suitable place for the eggs to
hatch and grow was inside the human brain."
"Brain?" Rikiga grabbed his head.
"Yes. Not a cow's, pig's, or monkey's. They got as far as
determining that Elyurias' eggs hatched if they used a
human brain, and that one of them would be born the
queen bee, as another Elyurias."
"And then, what...?"
"They implanted eggs inside a number of citizens
secretly―just like a wasp would use its ovipositer to lay
eggs inside its host. It was easy enough to give a needle
during scheduled check-ups, saying it was only part of the
procedure. They chose sample citizens who differed in
gender, age, build, and environment. I was one of them.
Rou was also chosen as a host, but it seems Elyurias' will
had some influence in this case. Both of us survived
because the parasite's development was incomplete. The
host always dies if the adult emerges successfully. That
means Elyurias' eggs were effective also as assassination
weapons. The upper echelons would do anything to have
Elyurias in their power. They were desperate to have her
under control. Maybe they already had a faint premonition
that cracks would start to form in No. 6. Maybe they knew
that their selective and exclusive government would some
day break down, no matter how skilfully it was
camouflaged. That was why they wanted definite control
over others. They wished to be the queen bee, and to
reign as the absolute, sole ruler."
"Were front-line research facilities set up in the
Correctional Facility to, um, research those... wasps?"
"Yes. They couldn't figure out what kind of conditions
Elyurias required to emerge as an adult. I think any human
effort would have been fruitless―it would always be a
mystery. But they built a research facility anyway, to
unravel a mystery that couldn't be unravelled. In it...
there were rows of countless brains, contained in special
cases. I'm sure eggs were planted in every one."
It came back to him.
The rows of brains trapped in cylindrical cases; Safu,
trapped in its innermost depths―it all came back to him.
 "I see." Rikiga stroked his chin. "In the Correctional
Facility, you could have as many brains as you wanted.
Couldn't ask for a better place."
"Makes me sick." Inukashi clutched his chest. He
looked truly nauseous: all the colour had receded from his
face. He tossed his piece of bread aside.
"I've been starved enough to eat grass and caterpillars
off the ground, but I've never felt this sick before. I don't
see whatever it is you're seeing. So―was this Hunt a
massive harvest of human brains?"
"Yes. They probably wanted to experiment on human
brains that have survived harsh conditions. They wanted
brains affected by various things, like large amounts of
stress, or the will to live, or fear, or excitement."
"I... I think I'm really going to be sick." A dog nuzzled
up to Inukashi. He buried his face in its coat and sniffed.
"These guys are... are a hundred times, a thousand
times, ten thousand times better than humans. Shion, I'm
glad I've got dogs on my team instead of humans. I really
am."
"Yeah." You're right, Inukashi. Dogs are a hundred
times, a thousand times, ten thousand times better than
humans. I can see why you'd feel that way.
Inukashi sneezed softly. He sniffled.
"So, what, Nezumi? Are you really a surviving
descendant of the Forest People or whatever?"
 Nezumi raised his face. The colour had returned to his
cheeks, perhaps thanks to Aria's care. It made Nezumi into
a glowing, living being rather than a beautiful doll.
"Yes."
"So you survived that Mao Massacre, or whatever it is.
Looks like your lucky streak takes you way back, huh."
"Sure."
Nezumi's eyes focused on Shion. Shion returned his
gaze without blinking. After a moment of hesitation,
Nezumi began to speak.
"I was really young then. To tell you the truth, there's
not much I remember about the Mao area. I just
remember Gran carrying me on her back as she ran
frantically through the flames. I don't know if Gran was my
real grandmother, or if she was a total stranger. But she
rescued me and raised me. After we escaped from the
forest, we moved constantly around in what's now called
the West Block."
Nezumi's tone was brisk and seemed to contain no
emotion.
"Gran taught me a lot of things. She was also the one
who found a room that used to be a library vault, and
suggested that I live in it. I buried myself in those books,
and I grew up listening to Gran tell tales of the Forest
People. These guys―"
Nezumi snapped his fingers. The three mice scurried
up to him, squeaking.
 "―were born in that room. They're intelligent and can
feel emotion. So could their parents, and their
grandparents. Those kinds of animals just seemed to
gather around the Forest People. These guys and Elyurias
were both―well, we didn't call it Elyurias. We just called
it the Forest God. But I was too young to know what the
Forest God was, anyway. I was taught that only Forest
People like us had a connection to these little mice and
the Forest God. But they seem completely used to having
Shion around, and they seem overjoyed that they've been
given names. It was the same with the rats in the
underground realm. I was surprised, to tell you the truth."
"Same with my dogs, come to think of it. They've
taken such a liking to Shion. They didn't even bark at him."
Nezumi smiled serenely.
"You're a mysterious one, Shion. I thought so since the
first time we met―you're a mystery."
"You're talking about the night of the storm."
"Yeah. The night we first met. But let's go back to the
topic for now. I was ten when the special gates of the
Correctional Facility were completed. The mayor was
scheduled for a visit. Gran said it was our first and last
chance for revenge. Revenge―Gran said it was the only
thing she'd been living for. But a ten-year-old kid and an
old woman were no match for him. Gran had a knife
hidden on her, but she was shot on the spot trying to get
near the mayor. I was caught along with captives of the
Hunt and thrown into the basement of the Correctional
Facility. It was a miracle that I didn't die. I climbed the
wall of rock as if my life depended on it, and I got to
those caverns. That was where I met Rou. Maybe that was
a miracle, too. Rou gave me even more knowledge than
Gran, and when I turned twelve, he ordered me to leave
the underground realm and face a new world. At the time,
Rou still had a thread,―a thin one, mind you―of
communication leading to the core of No. 6. Once in a
while, No. 6 delivered just enough food and living supplies
for us to survive. I guess in the back of their minds, their
conscience still nagged them to help the man who was
once their colleague. Through that route, Rou sent in a
suggestion that I be transferred to the Moondrop. He
proposed to have me examined in detail as one of the last
surviving Forest People. The mayor and his associates
agreed. They'd probably reached a roadblock in their
research about the Forest God. They were eager for any
potential lead, so they jumped on the chance. On the day
of my transfer, Rou handed me a special knife that
wouldn't get caught by the metal detectors. He told me to
find my own path. I wouldn't survive if I let myself be
taken into the Moondrop. There was a good chance that I'd
be dissected there. My only path of survival was to break
free and run before I reached the Moondrop. As for the
rest―I don't think I need to go into details. I was able to
survive, thanks to you rescuing me."
Nezumi looked up at the ceiling and exhaled a long
breath.
 "Like I said before, on that stormy night, you threw
open the window and welcomed me in. It was a real
miracle. To me, you were more of a miracle than the
Forest God ever was. I felt like I was being told to live―to
live on, not give up.... If you hadn't been there, I wouldn't
have been able to survive that night. Shion, you―only
you―were the one who saved me. This time, too."
Nezumi stood up carefully.
"Glucose infusion completed. Infusion is
complete." Aria retreated silently like a meek maiden.

"You saved my life," Nezumi said.

"It goes both ways. If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't
be alive, either." Shion stood up as well.
"Hey, hey, wait a minute here. If you're gonna
overwhelm yourselves with gratitude, it should be for us.
Right, old man?"
"Of course. Eve, you've just made yourself a hell of a
debt. You better be prepared."
Inukashi and Rikiga nodded in unison.
"Practically finishing each other's sentences now, aren't
you? You've sure gotten close." Nezumi smirked as he
wrapped himself in the superfibre cloth.
"If you're going to keep tabs on my debt anyway, mind
giving me a ride and dropping me off close to the
Moondrop?"
"Are you really going to go?" Rikiga said in disbelief.
 "Yes, we are," Shion answered. "We have to. Nezumi is
the only one who can stop Elyurias."
"Don't get ahead of yourself. We don't even know if my
singing is going to work on her yet."
"It will. Even on that cargo bed on the way to the
Correctional Facility, people still wanted to hear you sing."
Rikiga swung his arm around. His weary and bloodshot
eyes blinked repeatedly.
"Why, Eve? I thought you were going to sit back and
enjoy the show as part of the audience. Weren't you going
to laugh the whole way through while you watched No. 6
give its last dying shriek?"
"I was planning to, but it looks like my career as an
actor will be the death of me," Nezumi said ruefully.
"Seems I can't stand being out of the spotlight for more
than a short while. I guess I'm not made to sit in the
audience, after all."
"This isn't the time to be showing off," Rikiga said
bitingly. "Take it seriously. I thought you loathed No. 6.
Just leave it alone, and it'll destroy itself. There's nothing
more you have to do except sit back, watch, and laugh."
Nezumi's face contorted for an instant. It did not look
like an act.
"I would if I could. But Rou told me―what about the
children within the walls? What are they guilty of? He said
those who twiddle their thumbs while they watch children
die are no better than the murderers themselves."
 A sigh. All emotion vanished from Nezumi's face.
"Old man, I do loathe No. 6. This destruction is what
I've been longing for. In fact, it's everything I could have
wished for. If I ended up bloodying my hands to attain it,
so be it―that's what I used to think, and I still think that
way. But I want to avoid killing children at all costs. I'm a
survivor of the Mao Massacre. The last thing I want to do is
be on the side of the murderers. I don't want to become
like No. 6."
Rikiga fell silent. He sighed like Nezumi, and took out
his car keys.
"Inukashi, what are you doing to do?"
"I'll go. Don't got a choice, do I? I've got my own baby
to worry about. I can understand what Nezumi's trying to
say. Heh, but I didn't expect to be completely convinced. I
must be getting old."
"Oh―Inukashi, by baby, do you mean the one I
entrusted―"
"Shut up. He's my baby, and it's none of your business.
A little slow to notice, huh, uncaring prick? You can beg on
your knees asking to see him, but you won't get a chance."
Inukashi neatly gathered up all the leftover food and stuck
his long tongue out at Shion.

Confusion was reaching its peak around the Moondrop.

The army had fired further shots into the knots of people,
resulting in even more deaths. At the same times, several
soldiers also fell to the ground, growing old and dying
within minutes.
A roar of fear erupted from the soldiers. As some
threw their guns aside and attempted to run, their
superiors shot them dead from behind.
"Obey your orders. Suppress the rioters. Disperse
them."
"No! Our lives are precious to us, too!"
"Don't even think about fleeing. Desert the
battlefield―the penalty is death," a senior officer barked.
Suddenly, he bent backwards and collapsed. Blood spurted
from his forehead. A bullet had ricocheted and hit him,
perhaps―or had someone shot him? Even while his body
convulsed, the soldiers trampled him with their military
boots in an attempt to escape.
The crowd swarmed into the Moondrop. In their midst,
each gate of the city exploded and dissolved in flames.
Cracks appeared in the special alloy barrier as it, too, fell
apart. The Correctional Facility was already
half-demolished in a cloud of black smoke.
The bigscreen monitors in the square displayed each
of these scenes.
"Shion, what the hell is going on there? Why are they
playing that? Is No. 6 showing everyone its demise on
purpose?" Inukashi asked with a shiver.
"That must be surveillance footage from the cameras
installed in each part of the city.... But that should be
playing on the screens in the monitoring room of the
Security Bureau. This footage is being forwarded to public
screens... which means the computer's controls have gone
completely haywire."
"And that must be...."
"Yeah, you're right. Only she can scramble No. 6's
controls like this."
Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.
Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.
He could hear lighthearted laughing. It reached his
ears, threading its way through the roar of the mob,
footsteps, screams, and the sound of something being
beaten like a drum.
Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.
Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.

She's laughing. She's trying to destroy No. 6, laughing

all the while.
"Nezumi, can you sing?"
"...Not here. It's too packed with people. I'll be out of
breath before long, especially in this condition." Nezumi
looked up at the night sky, his face shining with
perspiration.
"She's laughing," he muttered.
"You hear it?" Shion asked.
 "Yeah. She sounds like she's enjoying herself. Arrogant
humans thought they were the rulers of the world, and
now look how easily they destroy themselves―she's
relishing every minute of it."
"Is she punishing human hubris?"
"Or it might be fate," Nezumi answered. "No. 6 was
fated to become like this. A balloon will always burst if it's
blown up too much. Maybe she just sped up those
cogwheels of fate a little bit."
Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.
Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.
A man clutching a boy of about five ran past Shion.
"Help me, help me!" he cried through his tears.
"Nezumi, let's go to the top floor of the Moondrop."
"The mayor's office?"
"Yeah. Your voice will reach the entire square from
there. Not only will Elyurias hear your song, so will the
rest of the people."
"A song won't calm the confusion."
"It'll be more effective than guns. That much is for
sure."
They went along with the flow of people and entered
the Moondrop.
"Where's the mayor? Bring him out!"
 "This is the end of No. 6! We're done for!"
"The wall has crumbled! The gates have been broken!"
"Bring out the vaccines! Mayor! Mayor!"
Suddenly, one man dashed up the stairs. With a
megaphone in hand, he bellowed in the stairwell.
"Comrades, I am here! I am Yoming! I once urged you
to rise for freedom!"
The crowd buzzed.
"It's Yoming! Yoming!"
"Yes! Comrades, just moments ago, I was attacked by
the security squad and I was almost killed. But yet I still
stand here in front of you. I will not die until I finish
rebuilding No. 6 with my own two hands. I will not die―I
am immortal!"
The buzz grew louder. A mass of fists were raised
triumphantly towards the man.
"Yoming! Yoming! Our hero!"
"Comrades. No. 6's destruction is near. We're almost
there. Let us defeat No. 6, come together as one, pool our
strength, and build a new utopia. We will make our bright
future a reality, with our hands, comrades!"
"Yeah! That's right!"
"Three cheers for Yoming! Three cheers for a new No.
6!"
 "Comrades, let us drag the mayor and his people out
before us. Here we will sentence and obliterate them. Let
that be the first step towards a new world!"
Cries of assent melded together into one roar. It shook
the very air.
"No!"
Shion also dashed up the stairs to stand beside Yoming.
"That's wrong. What he's saying isn't right."
Yoming's eyes bulged as he gritted his teeth.
"Everyone, listen to me: there is no vaccine here.
What's happening right now isn't going to be stopped by
the likes of any vaccine."
"Hey, what are you―"
"I survived." Shion took off his shirt and flung it aside,
exposing his red banded scars. "This is proof of my
survival. Everyone, please. Give us a little bit―ten
minutes―of your time. Don't worry, we'll settle this
somehow. I survived. There's nothing stopping you from
surviving, too. But for that to happen, we need time."
"What are we supposed to do?" A voice questioned
weakly from the crowd. It was a female voice. "Tell us
what we're supposed to do."
"Keep waiting," Shion answered. "Wait just a little bit
longer, and everything will come to an end. No one has to
die anymore."
Wait, he says.
 So we just wait here.
For half an hour or so.
Like a breeze blowing ripples across the surface of a
lake, a silent wave spread throughout the crowd. Everyone
gradually began to sit down on the spot. People in the
square also squatted on the ground, hugging their knees.
"Thank you, everyone." Still holding the megaphone,
Shion also spoke to the dumbfounded man before him.
"You, too, Yoming. Wait here."
Yoming was speechless.
"I'm going ahead." Nezumi broke into a run, passing
behind Shion.
"How on earth did you...." Yoming murmured as he
gazed at Shion.

There was no one in front of the mayor's office. The

guards had likely fled as well. What used to be the safest
and most comfortable place in No. 6 was now highly
dangerous territory.
Shion knocked on the door.
"Come in," a calm voice answered through the
intercom beside the door.
The door slid aside soundlessly.
The room was warm, tranquil, and luxurious. The
mayor was standing in front of a wide writing desk near
the wall. He had a smaller frame than what Shion had
imagined. And he was young.
This man... is the ruler of No. 6.
There was a leather sofa beside the mayor, and
another man sat at the end of it. He was wearing a white
lab coat. His neck was bent at an odd angle, and his arms
dangled lifelessly. His hair had turned white before Shion's
eyes, and his mouth hung open, having already taken its
last breath. A tooth dislodged itself from the man's mouth
and landed on the floor.
"Oh...."
A wasp was sitting on the nape of the man's neck,
moving its antennae busily.
"It's a newborn," the mayor whispered. He sounded like
someone who was trying not to wake a sleeping baby. "I
had no idea it was living inside his body, either. But I think
he was the most surprised. He died without even getting
over his astonishment. 'It can't be'―" the mayor smiled
faintly. "Those were his last words. 'It can't be'. Hah, it
must be decades since I heard something like that come
out of his mouth. He believed that everything in the world
could be explained by science."
"Mayor. Please open the window. We're going to use
your balcony."
"What do you intend to do?"
"We want to speak with Elyurias. We need to meet her,
and it's urgent."
 "You kids know about Elyurias?"
"Yes."
The mayor's gaze shifted from Shion to Nezumi.
"Window, you say..." he muttered, and pushed a button
on his desk. The window slowly opened out.
"Nezumi."
"Yeah."
Nezumi stepped out onto the balcony. A wind blew up
at them, ruffling Nezumi's hair.
A song flowed forth.
The wind steals the soul away, humans thieve the
heart
O earth, wind, and rain; O heavens, O light
Keep everything here
Keep everything here, and
Live in this place
O soul, my heart, O love, my feelings true
Return home here
And stay
Nezumi's singing was picked up by the wind, and
seemed to reach every corner of the square―and every
corner of No. 6. The people sat perfectly still and listened
in a trance.
It was like a voice that stole the soul away and thieved
the heart.
 Safu. Shion spoke to the girl in his heart. Just
once―just once more, lend me your strength. Deliver this
song to Elyurias. Safu, please. Lend us your power.
The wind steals the soul away, humans thieve the
heart
But here I will stay
to keep singing
Please
Deliver my song
Please
Accept my song

Safu.

The wind grew stronger. Nezumi staggered.

"Ah!"
Inukashi stood still, rooted to the spot.
"Wh―What the hell―"
A golden ring appeared in the sky, squarely in front of
Nezumi. The ring shrank until it became a blinding light.
The light shimmered as it wavered, and turned into the
figure of a wasp.

It has been a while, Singer.

 "It really has." Nezumi turned around and beckoned to
Shion.
Come closer.
Shion stepped out onto the balcony and drew up
beside Nezumi. The crowd filling the square looked up all
at once.
"Elyurias. Do you mind if I call you by this name?"

As you please. A name given by a human means

nothing to me.

"Elyurias. We beg you. We want you to grant us one

more chance―just once."
Shion heard the beating of wings. Four transparent
wings glimmered as they beat the air.
"Please don't give up on us humans yet. Just once.
Give us one more chance, Elyurias."

Foolish creatures.
Creatures full of arrogance and deceit.
You are telling me to believe you?

"Humans are capable of both upholding ideals and

succumbing to corruption. There are those who cling onto
their power, and there are those who are pushed along by
the majority. But there are those who uphold their ideals,
live for others, and continue to fight against their own
foolishness, deceit, and arrogance. Elyurias, hear our
plea. Believe in us, just once more."

Is that what you wish for yourself, Singer?

Nezumi gave a slight nod.

As one of the Forest People, you will believe in the

residents of No. 6?

"I won't believe the people of No. 6. The only one I

believe is him. No―that's not it. It's not that I believe him.
It's just―"

Just?

"I want to see what Shion will become. I want to see

what he's going to build on the ruins of No. 6. I want to
see with my own eyes what he'll create."

You want to see.

"O God―Forest God, you yourself aren't omnipotent.

You can't see everything. There's no way you could predict
whether he'll create a future that's different from No. 6,
or follow in its footsteps. It's something to look forward
to, isn't it? How far will humans fall? Where would they be
able to dig in their heels and resist? See where it'll take
them―that's just another way to enjoy it. I think you're
jumping the gun if you think humans are hopeless because
of a small example like No. 6."

The tiny infant I remember seems to have grown into

an insolent one.

"People grow up. For better or for worse."

Singer, are you sure? You do not need to keep loathing

No. 6?

"No. 6 doesn't exist anymore. You destroyed it. But if

No. 6 were to appear here again, I'd hate it with my heart
and soul, and wage another war."
Elyurias' antennae quivered left and right. Golden powder
scattered from them.

Shion.

"Yes."

I have a message from Safu. She says, "I leave

everything in your hands".
 Everything in your hands. They were the same as the
doctor's dying words. Shion clenched his hand into a fist,
and nodded.
"Please tell Safu that I've gotten her message. And
please tell her that I'll never forget her for as long as I
live."

Understood.
Now, then.

"Elyurias, wait! Please, for us―"

Just once. This one single time, Shion.

The golden light disappeared. The wind ceased.

Shion went back inside the room, and sank onto the
carpeted floor.
"It's finally over."
"Over? This is just the start, Shion. Your battle is
beginning, and it's going to be an arduous one."
"Nezumi...."
"What kind of world will you build here in the place of
No. 6? Would you be able to build a real town, where
humans can live as humans―and not some parasitic city
wearing the mask of a utopia? Shion, your battle has just
begun. You haven't finished. The one whose end is nigh
is―"
Nezumi turned around and stared at the mayor.
"I know." The mayor sat down in his chair, and quietly
closed his eyes. "Could you excuse yourselves? I would like
to be alone."
"Going to think about what to do with yourself,
Mayor?" Rikiga growled.
"That has already been decided. I'll put an end to my
own affairs. So, please, if you will."
"Let's go. Everyone deserves to have their last wishes
respected." Nezumi started to walk out.
"You have my thanks." The mayor raised his hand.
The door closed.
A gunshot rang out almost at the same time. Rikiga
shook his head slowly.
Hamlet squeaked from Shion's pocket.
Cheep-cheep-cheep!

A cerulean sky.
The sky that unfolded over the small hill in the North
Block was crystal clear.
 "Nice weather. Perfect for travelling." The wind
tousled Nezumi's hair, and he smoothed it down with his
hand.
"Shion, right here is fine. You didn't have to come out
to see me off."
"...You're set on going?"
"I have to."
"When are you coming back?"
"Coming back? I don't have a place to return to."
"Nezumi, can't I... can't I go with you?"
"You and I are different. I'm a drifter; you're
stationary. That's what it boils down to. When you're
incompatible, you can't live together. You should know this
already."
Nezumi let his gaze wander over the scene that spread
below him.
Here was a city once called No. 6. From where he
stood, it seemed no different than how it had always
been.
"Shion."
"What?"
"Are you crying?"
"I'm not―geez, I'm not a girl―"
"I'm afraid of you."
 "What?"
"I can't seem to grasp anything that's inside you, that's
why. You're a mystery. You had the power to put all the
people at the Moondrop in the palm of your hand in two
seconds flat, yet here you are crying like a girl. You can be
utterly ruthless, courageous, and noble all at once. And
that's all part of who you are, isn't it? I can't understand it,
and that's why it's terrifying for me. Maybe sometime in
the future, it wouldn't be so bad for me to drop by to
see... yeah, to see what kind of person you've become.
Your mama's muffins are also hard to resist. But I didn't
expect to get a hug from her right after being introduced."
"Nezumi."
Shion grasped Nezumi's arm. He felt like he could
endure no more.
"Don't go, Nezumi. I want to be by your side. I want
you to be by my side. That's all I wish for."
"It can't happen."
"Why not?"
"How many times are you going to make me repeat
myself? You have to stay here. You have a job to do."
"I can just let someone else―"
"You can't let anyone else do it. Shion, you have to do
this. Did you forget your promise with Safu? What about
the doctor's last words? You said you'd take it. Shion, don't
run away. You have a battle to fight. You have a job to do
here. You can't turn your back on it."
Shion looked at his feet.
He tightened his grip around Nezumi's arm.
I know. I understand. But―
"Nezumi, the world means nothing to me without you.
Nothing."
A finger hooked on his chin, and yanked it upwards.
A set of dark grey eyes were right in front of him.
"Won't you listen, my stubborn child? Act your age." It
was a woman's voice, softened with laughter.
"Nezumi, I'm serious―"
Their lips overlapped. It was a searing, but gentle,
passionate kiss.
"Was that a... goodbye kiss?"
"A vow." Nezumi smiled. "Reunion will come, Shion."
Nezumi turned his back to him. Hamlet and Cravat
hopped onto his shoulder, and chirruped at each other.
Cheep-cheep-cheep. Cheep-cheep-cheep.
The wind blew.
The clouds panned out.
Nezumi's figure grew smaller and smaller.
He never turned around once.
 "Nezumi." I never found out your real name. But―I
don't need to know.
To Shion, Nezumi had always been Nezumi. His one
and only, irreplaceable person.
Nezumi, I'll keep waiting. No matter how many years
it takes, no matter how old I get, I'll keep waiting for you
right here, on this land.
The drifter and the stationary one―their paths were
bound to intersect again. And when they did, Shion would
not let him go again so easily.
Nezumi, I'll keep waiting for you.

The wind blew.

Sunlight streamed down―on Shion; on the city about
to be reborn; on Nezumi's vestige.
The light streamed down, and encompassed
everything.

-- END OF CHAPTER --
EPILOGUE

"Nezumi, this book―"

"It's Shakespeare. Macbeth. Ever heard of it?"
"Are all these books classics?"
- No. 6 Volume 1
 It was a letter from Inukashi. He hadn't received one
in a while.
 Shion carefully folded the letter scribbled on rough
paper, and put it away. I'm going, Inukashi.
Cheep-cheep-cheep!
Tsukiyo cried at his feet. This mouse had chosen to
remain by Shion's side. He was a little older now, but was
as energetic and bright as ever. Karan was his absolute
favourite person, and he slept in her bed at night.
Another letter was from someone Shion had not
dreamed of receiving word from. It was from Sasori, the
man in the underground realm. A few days ago, Shion had
been paid a visit by a sewer rat carrying the letter in its
mouth. In it was written a short message of thanks.
 Following the destruction of the Correctional Facility,
the people of the underground realm had fled into the
forest on Rou's orders.
Promise them a land where they can live in peace.
Shion had forwarded Rou's short message to the
Restructural Committee, and gotten permission to allocate
a part of the northern forest to those people.
The land was on the outskirts of Mao, where the
Forest People used to live. The dense expanse of forest
protected their eyes, which were sensitive to bright
sunlight because of the darkness they were accustomed
to. Shion had chosen this spot after much deliberation.
Rou chose to remain underground. He ended his life
there, along with a few elders.
The remains of the Correctional Facility have now
become a park. Inukashi mentioned that he took Shionn
there to play sometimes.
Time ambles along.
Everything changes.
But I'll never forget.
Shion got up, and stood by the window. He threw it
wide open.
Come on in, Nezumi―just like you did that night.
Only a breeze, thick with the scent of young leaves,
blew at him in return.
 He kept waiting.

No. 6―a city by that name once existed here.

It had existed, once the epitome of human
intelligence, a utopian city-state.

THE END