No. 6 Volume 5

NO.
6 | Atsuko Asano Volume 5
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
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
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NO. 6 | Atsuko Asano Volume 5
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 It looked like the outdated oven had functioned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
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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
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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.
Reunion will come. Nezumi
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.
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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
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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
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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
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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.
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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 mouseys?"
"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
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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
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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
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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
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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.
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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
18
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
19
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
20
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
21
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
22
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
23
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
24
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
25
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.
Reunion will come.Nezumi
26
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.
27
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.
-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
28
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
29
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―"
30
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
31
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,
32
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
33
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
34
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―"
35
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
36
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
37
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.
38
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
39
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?"
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
40
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
41
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
42
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
43
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
44
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
45
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..."
46
"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."
47
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
48
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
49
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
50
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."
51
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.
52
"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.
53
"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."
54
"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
55
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.
56
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.
57
"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
58
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
59
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
60
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
61
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."
62
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.
63
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.
-Persian myth, John R. Hinnells
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
64
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?
65
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.
66
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?
67
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.
68
"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
69
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
70
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.
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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
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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.
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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.
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"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
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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.
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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
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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
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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
79
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
80
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
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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
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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
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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.
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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
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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
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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."
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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
88
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.
89
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?"
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"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
91
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?"
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"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
93
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
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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.
95
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.
96
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
97
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
98
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,
99
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?"
"Ten 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?"
100
"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.
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"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 trying to out-trick each other. Suddenly he began to miss Shion. He
1
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
1 In folklore, raccoon dogs and foxes are known to be tricksters.
102
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."
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"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."
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"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
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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.
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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
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
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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
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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?
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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
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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
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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.
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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.
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"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
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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
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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
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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."
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"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
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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
123
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
124
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.
125
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
126
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.
127
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
128
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.
129
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.
130
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
131
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."
132
"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.
133
Afterword
This No. 6 series has finally reached its fifth volume. I still
remember complaining in Volume 1 how I was ashamed of myself for
turning my afterwords into excuses, and saying 'I don't want to write
them anymore!'. But after thinking it over calmly again, I realized that it
wasn't the afterwords I didn't like; it was me―making excuses,
justifying myself with this or that―that I disliked. So basically, I'd been
taking my frustrations out on the afterword itself. I must confess, that's
not getting to the root of the problem at all. I'm sick of it, really.
These days I really think that people like me―who are skilled in
the art of self-preservation, are cowardly, but also
ambitious―shouldn't be writing a story like No. 6. I may have written a
bit about this somewhere else, but No. 6 to me as a work was
something a little out of the ordinary. To me, the core of a work was
always in humans. I wanted to write about, and know more about,
none other than people. The only device I had at my hands that would
let me understand people was writing. I wanted to know these girls,
these boys, these men and women. I wanted to know what kind of
people they were. That was the energy behind why I wanted to start
writing, and it was the reason I kept writing.
But before I started writing the story of No. 6, I wished to know the
world before I started getting to know the people. I hoped for a story
that would help me face the world I was living in now. It was my first
experience. That was why at first, I was not so much interested in the
true form of Shion, or Nezumi―what they thought, what they loved,
what they loathed as they lived their lives. The Holy City was the
protagonist of this story, and the boys were only side characters. But it
wasn't long before those arrogant thoughts were shattered to pieces.
But of course: it was impossible to render a world in which humans
134
were neglected a place. People are always connected to the world.

People are what comprise the world itself. The world is created by
people, who make it bountiful, who make it corrupt, who destroy it,
and bring it back to life.
Before I knew it, I was the one desperately following Shion and
Nezumi, enchanted by the world they created, the changes they
underwent, and their fates. And though it took long enough, it finally
hit home for me that the only way to render this world was to follow
them, watch them, grasp them, and pen them. It was a reckless
challenge. I feel like a praying mantis brandishing its tiny claws at an
enormous oncoming cart.2 I don't have that resolve. I don't have the
guts to face the world, or my own self head-on. That was also what I
realized while writing this story. And as soon as I realized it, it hurt to
hear Nezumi's words and feel Shion's gaze. So now we've come to this:
whatever shall I do? I wish I could just throw it away.... Oh dear me,
now instead of excuses I'm griping. Hmm, not good. But I'll hang in
there for a little more. If I don't pull myself up by my bootstraps now, I
wouldn't know what I'd written this far for; so on and so forth, blah
blah.
Thank you for supporting me and putting up patiently with my
reckless challenges and weak-willed excuses: Mr. Harada Hiroshi from
the Bunko Publishing Department; Mr. Yamashiro Hideyuki from the
Children's Publishing Department. And my heartfelt thanks to you,
reader, who has taken the time to read this work.
Summer 2009
Asano Atsuko
2 A Japanese idiom; one who enters danger heedless of one's own

weaknesses. (tōrō no ono; 蟷螂の斧)
135

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NO.

6 | Atsuko Asano Volume 5

I can't... see.... Don't... come... near me....

Good fortune, then,

of crumpled to the ground. I was so startled. My heart's still going a

Reunion will come. Nezumi

strange about seeing them walking hand-in-hand, or coming to buy

were digging into her palms.

Suifu didn't have an idea what it was. He used to be taken to the

Karan grasped the memo tightly in her hand.

scientists of No. 6 wouldn't know the proper method of handling."

wasn't even three minutes after she'd phoned them."

Bureau carried him off. Renka tried to accompany him in the

You're being delusional.

sad. Lots of different feelings."

just felt weird..."

you'll have a taste of the same fear I feel."

Reunion will come.Nezumi

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

senses were half-numb. He could only barely manage to follow

Why didn't any of them know?

thick inky darkness had lightened into a dusky evening shade.

of that naive thought pattern, hm?"

on his back, breathing raggedly. With every breath, there was a

The pair of gloves whizzed towards him. As if they had a will of

leave, they ought to leave strewing words of suffering and hatred

your life? Is it wrong to die smiling?"

"You're like No. 6 itself. It flings pretty words and ideologies

He realized he was getting used to this smell. Compared to when

"Well, it seemed out of place..."

situation. It was a smile neither bitter nor cold. It was somewhat

how welcoming a peaceful death was. He would not complain. But he

you'd... give me a serious answer... I... you're really dense."

habit of being bent on destruction like this. If Inukashi could get a

He tried saying it out loud. He remembered hearing a little about

Inukashi had noticed Nezumi's tone of voice change slightly

The wind was blowing. As if to mock what had happened, today

their heads. It was a tyrant. It possessed absolute strength, and crushed

As for us, we're as good as insects.

merchants who bought and sold children.

If only all the humans had eyes like my Mum's....

roots down on this land.

Inukashi had no experience with raising babies. But as for puppies,

into sobbing. And soon, that turned into a full-out wailing.

lullaby, even just once.

scowled exaggeratedly. "What if I was changing?"

Nezumi was a knave, a trickster, a fraud, no mistake, and that was

people's words around like that. He accepts things openly, honestly,

returning customers. Among them, some work at a direct affiliate of

dissatisfaction, uncertainty. You're saying gas is building up within the

"From a girl, of course. A red-headed one named Sulu, who has a

"What do I needa do? If it's anything risky, I'm not in."

1 In folklore, raccoon dogs and foxes are known to be tricksters.

of prisoners through secret routes. He had even once complained that

comes back, then, alright?"

My elder brother is a cannibal!

became clearer and clearer by the day.

Sure we could. Safu, you're my most important―

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