“What’s with that…?”
Kisara, eyes wide open, was at a loss for words.
“What’s with it is that I don’t need it. Besides, you’re about to go through with your marriage anyway, aren’t you?” He loosened his voice, taking on an admonishing tone. “Well, now’s a good time to start transitioning, isn’t it? Now that I’m like this, I can’t watch over you anymore, Kisara. You can have Hitsuma protect you from now on.”
Happiness would never materialize for Kisara Tendo as long as Rentaro Satomi was by her side. That was his steadfast conclusion. To Kisara, Rentaro’s existence was just a painful reminder of her parents, the ones she lost in the most traumatic fashion imaginable. All he was doing was holding her back, in bondage, and if that’s how it was: Their only choice was to separate. That was the only and final way for Kisara to forget about revenge and find happiness.
If it was possible, Rentaro wanted to be the source of happiness in her life. He wanted to teach her everything that could make a woman happy. He thought perhaps he was the one who could send her to dizzying heights of ecstasy. But he wasn’t, and it grievously troubled him.
Kisara stared at the aloof Rentaro, ruefully pointing her chin at him.
“What is your problem today? I mean, Hitsuma’s a nice guy, okay? He treats me like I’m important, unlike some people in my life. He’s got money, unlike some people in my life. He’s tall, unlike some people in my life. And he wants to marry me, too, okay? Maybe you don’t know this, Satomi, but I actually have a social life with the opposite sex. Hmph!”
“Oh? Well, that’s great.”
“What do you mean, that’s great?” For some reason, Kisara demonstrated an extreme dislike for Rentaro’s blunt reaction. “Look, Satomi, are you looking for them to find you guilty, or what? You didn’t kill him, did you? You’re acting weird!”
Kisara blushed and turned her head away, rubbing her thighs together nervously.
“You know that my chronic diabetes prevents me from fighting for extended lengths of time. That…that’s why I want you to keep protecting me, Satomi. Because in the end, I’m just another weak little girl.”
Rentaro wordlessly shook his head. “Please, Kisara. I don’t want you to come here anymore.”
“Why not? Why are you saying that? Do you hate me or something?”
Rentaro stared straight into Kisara’s eyes.
Thanks, Kisara. I’ve been so grateful to you, ever since the Tendo family took me in ten years ago. The Gastrea that killed your parents took an arm and a leg from me, too, but the fact I managed to keep you safe is something I’m kind of proud of.
I really like you, Kisara.
“Please don’t come back. I don’t want to see your face again. That’s all there is to it.”
With a clatter, Kisara stood up off her chair, covering her mouth with both hands. Tears were welling out of each eye, running down her cheeks.
“What is…? What are you?”
No matter how much she wiped at them, the tears incessantly came down. She must not have been expecting this display herself, saying “What?” and acting terribly confused. Then she quickly turned around and tried to rush out of the visitation room.
This is how it should be, Rentaro said to himself. Hitsuma will make her happy. He watched Kisara as she reached for the doorknob, as if that was the punishment he was facing this whole time.
Just as her figure was about to disappear behind the door, Rentaro had a flashback to Tina, Enju, Kisara, and himself around the dining table, laughing with one another. Something he would never have back again. The tears rushed into his eyes.
Don’t go, Kisara.
“Help—”
Rentaro closed his eyes and put both hands over his mouth, struggling with everything he had to keep the rest of the words from coming out. He didn’t have to worry. The door closed shut with a heavy bang, and then only a cold silence remained.
Tears dripped down from the end of his downward-facing nose, spreading across the thighs of his pants. He sobbed, his voice cracking, at the pain of losing something he could never replace.
The image of the Tendo Civil Security Agency breaking apart in midair quietly spread across his mind.
9
“Why…?”
For the nth time today, Rentaro’s mouth opened a crack and whispered the word as he took in the view of the Seitenshi’s palace, in District 1 of Tokyo Area.
Why am I here?
Looking back, he should have suspected something from the moment he woke up, when he was ordered to put on his school uniform instead of the hoodie Enju gave him. That same prison guard effectively banned belts and buttons from his life when he was first sent to jail.
Even when he noticed that the minivan he shared with a driver and two escorts was taking a different route from the usual one to the public prosecutor’s office, he didn’t pay it any special mind apart from finding it a bit odd.
The view out the window was dull, dark, and bereft of any color.
Since his first and last meeting with Kisara, Rentaro had grown indifferent to nearly all external stimuli, spending more and more of his time lost in thought. Diligently, he tried to collect all the fun, happy memories he had and examine them all one more time. The problem was, recollecting his time in the Tendo Civil Security Agency seemed all too short to him.
“Keep your head forward. Lady Seitenshi is seeing you.”
His unfocused thoughts jumbled with one another as his consciousness returned to reality. They didn’t come fully together until he finally understood what he heard.
“Lady Seitenshi?”
Upon following his escort’s directions, a key was thrust into his handcuffs, freeing his hands. He was relieved from the chain wrapped around his waist like a dog’s leash, and then he was led forward, guards in front of and behind him.
The palace guards, standing like statues of Adonis in front of the entrance, saluted the procession as they passed. They must have received advance word.
After a few minutes’ wait in the reception room, lined with dozens of trophies and an unnervingly realistic hawk sculpture, the group was led to a large hall meant for special events. The high ceiling arched above them; the well-polished floor formed a mosaic beneath their feet. Rows of marble columns lined the space. Every piece of décor was done up to enormous proportions, making Rentaro feel like he had stumbled into the home of a giant.
Everything inside the palace was refined and splendorous. Nothing like the gray walls of the interrogation room, or the jail cell he was in. That, at least, brightened Rentaro’s spirits a little.
“Here,” a guard said, “take this.” It was, oddly enough, the same civsec officer’s license that was confiscated from him at the time of his arrest.
“Why this? What’s happening here?”
The guard did not respond. Instead, he just nudged his back, making him stand in front of a large door. With a low rumble, it opened from the other side, letting a warm beam of light enter the room. Proceeding in, then up a steep, winding stairway, they found the Seitenshi at the top, just as she left her throne and was on her way down. The two guards around Rentaro straightened their backs as tightly as they could.
The Seitenshi made a sweeping motion with her hands. The guards sandwiching Rentaro on both sides gave each other worried looks.
“Lady Seitenshi, it’s too dangerous for you to be alone!”
“I don’t care. Stand aside, please.”
They disappeared behind the door with extreme reluctance. Only Rentaro and the Seitenshi remained in the gigantic space.
“It’s been far too long, hasn’t it?” The Seitenshi smiled a sad smile.
“Well, yeah. You’re the head of state, and I’m a failure of a civsec officer. You wouldn’t be meeting up with me unless you had some kind of business.”
“Yes. In which case, I suppose this is a good thing. A civil security officer out of a job means the world must truly be at peace.”
“So what do you want?” he asked.
The Seitenshi put both hands together in front of her dress skirt. “Mr. Satomi, are you aware of which way public opinion is going on your case?”
“Can’t say I am. They don’t allow any media in jail.”
“People were beginning to soften their stance against civil security agencies, after they made such a heroic effort guarding Tokyo Area through the entirety of the Third Kanto Battle. Your on-the-scene arrest for murder, sadly, put an end to that.”
“…You think I killed him, too?”
The Seitenshi shook her head. “I don’t know that, and I am in no position to determine that.”
“But you rule this whole area.”
“I am the head of the political apparatus, yes, but that does not extend into the realm of judiciary power. I do, however, have the power to appoint people to certain positions. I’ve done that for you before, and I’ve also helped you get your rank promoted no less than three times. Along those lines, the attention I’ve demonstrated for you has also made me the target of criticism.”
Rentaro, realizing the conversation was drifting into hostile waters, broke into a cold sweat. Why was I invited to the palace today, anyway? It still made no sense to him.
“Today, Satomi, I’m afraid I need to tell you some bad news.” The Seitenshi paused deliberately, raising her face to eye level. “As of today, your civil security agency Promoter license has been revoked.”
“Wha…?!”
Revoked? If that happens…
“Do you remember, Satomi?” the Seitenshi continued, indifferent to Rentaro’s obvious consternation as she continued. “When you protected me from that sniper, I remember telling you this: ‘I will have to ask you to work continuously from now on. For me, and for our country.’ It is a shame I have to renege on my word in so short a time.”
“Wait a minute! If you confiscate my license, the IISO’s gonna take Enju away. You can’t take Enju from me, too!”
The Seitenshi turned her face away from Rentaro, a dejected look on her face as she kept her eyes away from view.
“It has already been decided.”
Rentaro’s fists began to shake. He took the license from its plastic cover and, with shaky hands, placed it in the Seitenshi’s hand. Then he turned his back to his ruler, just as she opened her mouth to speak, and briskly left the chamber.
The fifty-million-yen paintings that lined the corridors, as well as the brass vases with arabesque patterns sculpted upon them, were nothing that could move the Seitenshi’s heart any longer.
As she trudged down the hallways from the meeting chamber to her personal room, she came across a man in a white formal hakama gown, his white hair and beard a seeming mismatch for the firm, muscular body he possessed. It was Kikunojo Tendo, the Seitenshi’s aide and a major powerbroker in the world of politics.
“I admire your hard work, my lady.”
“Kikunojo…do you think that was the best thing?”
“But of course. Our story is this: Before he was arrested, he requested to be removed from the roster of civsec officers and returned his license to the authorities. That way, the civsec industry can retain its good name, and damage to your administration for appointing him will be kept to a minimum.”
“But…we are drowning out the voices of those pleading his innocence!”
“It is my priority, my lady, to do whatever it takes to protect you.”
“But that is not my way.”
“Lady Seitenshi, you… I am afraid you have to choose. If the lifeboats are already full of people, you must have the resolve to let those who couldn’t find space on them die. That is a must in order to keep the boat itself viable.”
“If I jump off the boat, I could rescue one more person.”
“Are you saying you would let a starving person cannibalize you, then? That is very self-sacrificial, my lady, but it has no role in politics, and it is the political system that you are charged with directing.”
“But what do you think of Satomi, Kikunojo? He was once your adopted son, and when you were chosen as a Living National Treasure of Japan, I understand you designated Satomi to be your apprentice, though not a blood member of the Tendo family. Your opinion of him couldn’t have been entirely negative; at least, not at the time. But how can you be so coldhearted to him now?”
“…Ever since he abandoned our family with Kisara, he has been neither my kin nor anything else to me. If this is the end for him, I can only call it his just deserts.”
“How could you…?” The Seitenshi stared at the floor and bit her lip. Unable to withstand it any longer, she flew into Kikunojo’s breast and clung to him. “I can’t help but notice,” she whispered softly. “Wherever Satomi goes, there I am, watching from behind. Whenever I speak with him, I feel my heart beating faster. I…I yearn for him.”
Kikunojo’s chest twitched with rage.
“What…?!”
“It pains me. My public persona demands that I must be harsh, but as a living, breathing person, I wish I could use all my political influence to help him out of his plight. My heart, and my body, are being pulled in two different directions. I feel like I’m going to be ripped apart.”
“……”
“It pains me. Kikunojo, what am I supposed to do…? What…?”
Kikunojo placed a hand on the Seitenshi’s back and silently stroked it up and down.
10
Touji Watagasa put his hands on the Elgrand minivan’s steering wheel, placed his foot on the accelerator, and turned his eyes toward the windshield, even though his mind was still focused on the eerie silence unfolding behind him.
It was night. The unpaved private road lit by his headlights made for a bumpy, uncomfortable ride, the car lurching to and fro whenever it ran over an odd tree root sticking out. The tall trees jutting out from both sides depressed him, and—unusually for him—he began to regret trying to take a shortcut.
Touji’s main work for today involved picking up the prisoner Rentaro Satomi from lockup and driving him to the Seitenshi’s palace. Now he was making the return trip, taking him back to jail. He was on standby inside the van while they spoke, and thus had no idea what had transpired in the palace, but judging by how much gloomier the atmosphere was in the car leaving than going, it must’ve been something bad.
He looked behind him in the rearview mirror. Rentaro Satomi, slumped down between his two guard escorts, looked like he just had the life sucked out of him. He already looked pretty rough when he picked him up, but now he was even worse—a gruesome sight to see, even. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
Touji would readily admit that he had a visceral disgust for the Cursed Children, these Gastrea Virus carriers strutting around like there was nothing wrong with them. But he also understood well enough that he was still alive right now thanks to their efforts in the Third Kanto Battle. It was complicated—and it didn’t help that he lost the lottery for a shelter spot during that fight, forced to stay with his family and curse his bad luck.
The joy he felt when Aldebaran fell was difficult to put into words. Seeing this Promoter in such a miserable state right now made Touji wish he could do something to help. But what, though, exactly?
The question made his mind hit a wall. Even if he did something as reckless as help him escape, the sense of satisfaction that would give him wouldn’t be worth the lengthy prison term he’d receive afterward. He had a family to support.
Touji chided himself. No, he didn’t have what it took to be a hero. All he could keep safe was a small sphere of people around him. And that was good enough for him. Sometimes it was better to listen to the timid little voice of his conscience.
This was the kind of hero who could stand up and devote all his courage to the preservation of Tokyo Area. Now, though, he was yesterday’s news. T
he rules of the world could change with just a snap of the fingers, it seemed.
Thinking about all this caused Touji to lose his concentration. It made him notice just a moment too late that something was jumping in front of the minivan.
He didn’t see what it was at first, but once the headlights thrust their way through the darkness, a girl with chestnut hair cut in a bob danced between the beams.
There she stood, in the middle of the road, arms open wide—it was already too late by the time Touji realized this. An instant later, no doubt, the bumper would be smashing into the small figure’s body. A chill ran down his spine, and before he could think about it, his foot had slammed the brake to the floor as he pulled the wheel to one side.
There was a screamlike screech as the wheel locked itself. The car veered into the woods. They had just barely dodged the girl, but the tires fell into a rut on the side of the road, and the van was lifted into the air like someone had tipped it up.
Just when Touji realized he’d made a poor decision, the bloodcurdling feeling of weightlessness struck his body as his vision slanted to the side. Only a few seconds ago, he’d been picturing himself pulling into the jail’s parking lot, just like he had done a million times before. There was no way he could have predicted the intense pain that would invite itself into his life a moment later.
The results were similarly disastrous for Rentaro in the backseat. He felt his rear end rise up, then he yelped in pain as his vision lurched and his body was battered around the interior. The noise of the crash drowned out all his shouting.
The next thing he knew, Rentaro was lying facedown, his face buried in something soft. The droning sound of the car’s stuck horn just barely kept him conscious. He heard something dripping, and a disquieting scent sickened him. He felt something pricking under his eyelids. Something must have struck his throat, because even groaning was painful for him. It was hard to breathe in whatever confined space he was in.
His consciousness still hazy, he opened his heavy eyes, only to find one of his escorts right in front of him, blood dripping from his head. He was approaching his golden years, loose wrinkles on his cheeks.
Rentaro Satomi, Fugitive Page 9
