Harata came awake with a start, his heart clenched in the icy fist of
panic. Disoriented, he swung his head around, trying to get his bearings. I
was dreaming, he told himself, dreaming about the battle. The panic
eased for a moment, and he let out a breath. Then it returned when the
realization of the mess they were in crashed over him. Everything was ruined.
It all came down to Keisuke. He was gone. Harata searched the room,
gloomy in the overcast early evening, hoping in vain to see the temperamental,
black-clad figure. He was not there, of course. What had become of him? True, he
could be dead, but something within Harata refused to believe that. He felt that
Keisuke was alive out there somewhere. Well, he would just have to go out there
and drag the Angemal back. He would hunt Keisuke down, force him as a prisoner
to do his sacred duty. Without all nine Champions, the Task couldn’t be
completed. He had to get Keisuke back. Of course, the Commander’s
absence wouldn’t matter if… if…
Harata jumped to his feet and bounded up the stairs. He had to know. Now.
When he reached the door of the guestroom, he knocked softly. Yukiiae
appeared a moment later and stepped out into the hall. Barely looking at her, he
said, his voice frantic,
“Tell me they’re going to be alright.”
“I… I don’t know. I’m sorry.” The last word came out as a
whisper, and Yukiiae turned her face away from him to hide her tears. Harata got
a grip on himself, wishing that he hadn’t been so hasty with his words. It was
obvious that the Decameron hadn’t slept. She looked careworn and troubled.
“It’s ok,” he said softly. He reached out to her, but she pulled
away quickly.
“I don’t deserve your compassion,” she said vehemently, “I’m failing
you… and them.”
There was a look of haunted sorrow in her eyes that stung Harata’s
heart.
“No, you’re not. You won’t. I know you’re doing your best.”
“I just hope that’s good enough.” She turned away and opened the
door. “I’ll come and tell you if anything changes… one way or the
other.”
She closed the door behind her, leaving Harata standing alone in the
hall, feeling deflated.
A single soft note drifted through the darkened room as Takaeyama pressed
down on the key of the piano. He’d never learned to play, unlike his brother,
who could coax the most beautiful sonatas from the shiny black instrument. He
recalled his younger days, when he would beg Kieran to play for him. He’d
loved music. He felt that all the songs- from the dark and haunting serenades to
the rousing, playful fantasias- touched something deep within his heart. Now, as
he sat alone before the piano, Takaeyama wondered what it would be to bring his
own music into his life, rather than relying on others to provide it. It seemed
to him that he did nothing but gather joy from others, giving nothing in return.
His heart was heavy with guilt. That clenching shame had descended upon
him the night before, as he’d carried Blue through the forest. The weight of
his selfishness was an odious force pressing down on him, riding his shoulders
as he walked- as he regarded Blue for the first time. The Night’s Herald had
sat at his side through so many trying days, forever patient, infallibly serene.
There were times when Takaeyama considered him a nuisance, sent by Harata to
“baby-sit” the forlorn, weaker Champion. In those moments, Takaeyama wished
that Blue would leave him be, let him alone to suffer in his silence. Yet the
Night’s Herald had always stayed, gently coaxing Takaeyama’s spirit from its
self-inflicted prison. The Corduran had no doubt that Blue had been there even
in that time when he was mired in the river of his mind, a time that even now he
could recall only in dreamlike splinters. Never once had Takaeyama wondered how
Blue felt, seeing him only as a shadow of a person, almost an imaginary
creature. Never once had he thought about what it might’ve been to live
Blue’s life, which he’d realized last night- after piecing together the
fragments that he knew of- must have been as lonely as his own. He simply
hadn’t cared.
Brokenhearted, Takaeyama touched the key again. All he wanted was to say
that he was sorry. If only he could apologize, but he might already be too late.
What if Blue was never to leave the room on the second floor? Why hadn’t he
learned, upon losing his friends, upon losing his family, upon losing Keita? Why
hadn’t he learned that people could vanish from his life as abruptly as they
appeared? “All relationships are temporary,” Blue himself had said. Gods
above.
A figure stumbling into the darkened room pulled Takaeyama from his
reverie. It was one of the girls, wrapped in a blanket. She fell to the floor
with a stifled sob.
“Chieko?”
She gasped.
“Takaeyama. Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here. I… I had a
scary dream.”
She stood up, still clutching the blanket over the white nightshirt she
wore.
“It’s dark in here,” she observed, switching on the light. When she
saw his face, a mask of misery, she lowered her head and looked at her bare
feet. “I’m sorry. I’ll get out of here and leave you alone.”
“It’s alright, Chieko. Are you okay? Come, sit down.” He scooted
over on the piano bench, patting the empty space he’d made. She came and sat
beside him, taken aback by the unusual show of friendship. As she lowered
herself onto the bench, Chieko let out a long sigh.
“Wanna talk about it?” Takaeyama asked.
“Not really,” Chi answered dejectedly. “It was just about… you
know, last night.”
They sat without speaking for a while. Then Chieko broke the silence.
“Are we bad people?” When Takaeyama didn’t answer right away, she
continued. “I mean, we’re the Champions and all, but… You know, I was
really happy to be a Champion, but I didn’t know we were going to- going to…
kill people.” Takaeyama was surprised by this sudden, serious turn in
the GelbFaust.
“Chi-“
“Those guys last night. They were people, too. They have moms and dads,
and maybe even kids and everything. Today, people out there somewhere are crying
because of what we did.”
“Chieko,” Takaeyama’s voice was gravely serious as he turned to
look at her. His eyes were clear, no longer full of his own shadows. “That you
can care so much about those men and their families means that you are certainly
not a bad person. Quite the contrary.”
“I just wish we hadn’t done that. Maybe, if we didn’t turn and
fight, just kept going… Maybe we could’ve gotten away.”
“The HeadHunters were going to fight us one way or another. You know
that.”
“Yeah… I just don’t see why it has to be this way. It’s
not fair.”
“No, it’s isn’t… I guess a lot of things in life aren’t. But I
think you’re strong enough to stand up to the all the bad feelings. You have a
good spirit.”
“I guess…”
They fell silent again for some time. Chieko began to take in her
surroundings. The carpeted room was small, holding only the piano and a shelf of
music books.
“Can you play this thing?”
“No. Kieran can play, but I can’t.”
“I think your brother is really nice.”
“I think so, too.”
Chieko’s attention was drawn to the array of framed photographs atop
the piano. The same five people were depicted over and over again- alone, in
pairs, in groups.
“Is this your family?”
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you see them anymore?”
“We had… a bad fight. They don’t want to see me again.”
“But not Kieran.”
“Not Kieran. He forgave me.”
As much as Chieko wanted to ask what it was Takaeyama had done, she knew
he wouldn’t answer her. In fact, she was fairly sure he’d stop talking to
her altogether. She was enjoying this chance to converse with the usually
tight-lipped Corduran, so instead she turned her attention back to the photos.
Her eyes fell on a picture of two boys in their teens who stood, arms around each
other’s shoulders, grinning at the camera. One was dark haired, with handsome
features and warm grey eyes. The other was… Takaeyama? Yes, it was him, but
never had Chieko seen the Corduran look like that.
“Who’s this?”
“That’s Keita. We… we went to school together.”
“You look so- so happy!”
“I was happy… a long time ago.”
Kat was seated on the loveseat she’d been sleeping on. It was
afternoon, two days after the disastrous battle. Kieran proved to be a gracious
host, always around when needed, but never obtrusive. He unfailingly treated her
with the respect deserving of her status. The young Corduran man protested
nothing- not the use of his shower and bathroom by seven filthy people, not the
cavalier treatment of his good china, not the piles of dirty dishes to be
washed, nor the usually tidy home cluttered with rucksacks and sleeping bags,
the trampling feet, the raised voices- nothing. Apparently he wrote textbooks
for a living somewhere upstairs in his small office. There was an air of
refinement about Kieran, and Kat found that she liked him in spite of herself.
She seemed to be staring out the sliding glass doors and into the garden.
However, she took in little of the scenery. Her mind was grinding away in her
head, cranking out a multitude of thoughts. Now that the initial horror of two
nights ago had faded, she found herself lingering on a different set of worries.
Her fingers rose and brushed her lips. He’d kissed her. Why? What did
Harata mean by that? Could he be in love with me? She wondered for what
felt like the millionth time. Kat wanted to drag him into a quiet corner and
force him to tell her, but there was far too much for him to worry about right
now, besides that. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
She thought guiltily of Tana. Lately, she barely spared a thought for
him. He was without her, far away in Mianuus. Did he miss her? Did he think of
her? What would happen when this was over, when she went home? Would he still
want her? Would she still want him? Kat remembered her frustration
at the thought of becoming a political bride, at the idea of giving up her
career to stand behind her husband.
And there was fear. There was the never-ending, nagging fear that should
she marry Tana, her new home would grow to be no different than the one she left
behind. Would her new family be no more than the brittle bones of affection, a
dead and rotting structure dressed in the trappings of a happy home? Would there
be no living warmth, no heart to beat out the familial lifeblood of compassion
and care? Sometimes it felt that she stared into the vast abyss of a vicious
cycle she’d been trapped in since birth.
Would Harata be able to give her something more? And did she want
anything more?
I don’t know.
So lost in thought was Kat that she didn’t notice the figure of the man
who’d moved through the backyard. She didn’t see him as he approached the
sliding doors, didn’t even realize he was there until his face had
superimposed itself upon her reflection. Kat screamed.
Keisuke was laughing at her.
He was laughing still as he opened the door and stepped into the house.
“I got you good. What’s the matter with you? Couldn’t you see?”
“I was… I was thinking.”
“La-di-dah.” Keisuke looked around. “Nice place. What’re
you, squatting here?”
“It’s Kieran’s house.”
“Who the hell’s Kieran?”
“Takaeyama’s brother.”
Harata came rushing into the room, alerted by Kat’s cry. He was holding
his sword, and lost no time in setting the blade against Keisuke’s neck.
“Easy there, Fearless Leader. Wouldn’t want to kill me, now would
you?” The Commander grinned maliciously.
“Sit down,” Harata ordered in a stony voice. “Kat, go get the
others.”
Harata waited until the other five of the Champions came filing into the
room before saying anything more to Keisuke.
“Where have you been?”
“Why, with my Clan, of course.”
“You betrayed us!”
“What makes you say that?”
“The HeadHunters were ready for us the other night. You told
them we were coming!”
“That’s silly.” Keisuke stretched and relaxed on the sofa, lounging
with a lackadaisical air. “As you have most likely forgotten, I did warn
you that they’d be ready for you. They were the ones, after all, who were
tracking us. Of course, as you don’t like me very much, you decided not
to heed my advice. Not my fault, is it?”
“Why didn’t you return to camp with everyone else?”
“Unlike the rest of you blasphemous sods, I have not turned my back on my
Clan. As you gave me no opportunity to explain my position to my superiors when
you took me under Oath, I decided to make my own opportunity.”
“What did you say to them?” Harata’s teeth were clenched around the
question.
“I gave them a report of our activities thus far, and possible future
courses of action.”
“You told them everything?”
“Of course.”
Had the Champions not been so troubled by the conversation taking place,
they might have seen the humor in the situation. There sat Keisuke, sprawling
lazily on the sofa, a look of intense boredom on his face. Harata sat across
from him on an ottoman, looking as though he was about to have a heart attack,
his face flushed, veins bulging in his neck.
“You… you little bastard!”
“Now, there’s no need for name calling. What in the world are you so
upset about? I’ve returned to you, no worse for wear, ready to carry on in
your so-called ‘Task’.”
“But not before making sure the HeadHunters can track us down and
slaughter us!”
“Who said anything about that? You know, you always do jump to
conclusions. Not very becoming in a leader…”
“Stop
playing games, Keisuke! If the HeadHunters are on their way, you’d better say
so now, or by the gods-“
“No HeadHunters are coming to get you. Relax. In light of present
circumstances, Clan Angemal has decided to grant our little group a temporary
truce. The HeadHunters in this area will trouble us no more. Of course, once we
leave here, that situation will change. It is not within the jurisdiction of the
Angemal to call off a Hunt. That right is reserved for, ah, more noble heads.”
He nodded judiciously at Kat.
“And when the HeadHunters come for us again? Can I expect you to run
off and join their ranks?”
“I am no longer obligated to make reports. I have informed the Council
of my Oath to you, and they will honor it.”
Harata sighed heavily. There was no way to tell if Keisuke was speaking
the truth. If he was lying, they’d all be dead by nightfall. Even if he wasn’t
lying about the HeadHunters in the area, he could still be lying about a
whole lot else. From now on, he’d be keeping a very close eye on the
Commander.
“Kieran, let me help you.”
Chieko had come bouncing into the kitchen where Kieran and Takaeyama were
about to tackle the huge pile of dishes left from the evening meal. She smiled
brightly at the two Corduran brothers.
“Oh, Miss Chi, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that. Just leave it
to me and Taka.” Kieran grinned back at her, expecting her to scurry off.
He’d taken a shine to the chatty GelbFaust, despite the fact that she
repeatedly disturbed him while at work in his office.
“No, really, let me help. No offence, but… I’m kind of bored.”
She’d been trapped indoors since the drizzle outside had turned into a deluge.
She’d wanted to stay out, but Kazuki had dragged her back inside. “Besides,
in camp we all do work. Everybody helps.”
Kieran turned a quizzical eye on Takaeyama.
“It’s true. Even the Empirian does chores. In fact, Chi does more
work than I do.” He looked down, shamefaced.
“Is that so?”
“Yup. All of us do something to help out. So, let me do some dishes!”
“If you insist, Miss Chi.” Kieran was far too polite to force her to
leave.
The three of them passed a fairly happy time, chatting while they did the
chores. Chieko was scraping plates into the trash, while Kieran rinsed and
scrubbed. Takaeyama dried the dishes and put them back in their places. The talk
turned to the press conference, and Kieran said,
“I was really surprised to see you, Taka. By the way, how did Keita
take it when you told him you were leaving?”
“We… we broke up.”
“What!?”
“It was before I joined the Champions. He said… It’s a long
story.” Takaeyama suddenly remembered Chieko, who was looking up at him,
dinner plate held motionless above the trashcan.
“Keita… isn’t he the boy from the photo?”
“Um, yes.”
“You guys were in love?” Chi’s eyes were now enormous.
“Yeah. Yeah, we were. We used to be.” Takaeyama wished he could
evaporate like the steam over the tub of dishes.
“Wow…”
There came a snickering from the wide doorway. Keisuke was standing
there.
“I should’ve known,” he gasped out between laughs. “I should’ve
known you were a good for nothing faggot.”
“Keisuke,” Chieko reproached, “that’s- that’s not nice!”
“Oh, come on, little Chieko. You don’t like fags do
you?”
“But-“
“Do you?”
“But Takaeyama is our friend!”
“Doesn’t take much to be your friend does it? The guy’s been
a vegetable half the time you’ve known him.”
“Mr. Kurokawa,” Kieran turned to face the Angemal, struggling to keep
cool. “Meaning no disrespect, but while under my roof I’d prefer you
didn’t use such language.”
“Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can’t say?”
“What’s going on here?” Harata and Ayame, drawn by the sound
of raised voices, now stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room.
“Takaeyama’s a fag,” Keisuke informed them gleefully. He was
laughing again.
Harata was unsure of how to respond. However, Ayame put her hand on her
hips and said,
“So?”
“Ah-ha. Now are you going to tell us you’re into girls?”
“No, I am not.
Even if I was, I don’t see what difference it would make.”
“Ayame’s right,” Harata stated firmly. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re being a jerk, Keisuke,” Chieko added.
“Oooo… you told me.”
There was a clatter as Takaeyama put down the dish he’d been holding.
Without a word, he turned and left the room.
“Keisuke, go away.” Harata’s voice was cold.
“As you wish.” The Commander turned and walked off, wiping tears of
mirth from his eyes.
“I’m sorry-“ Harata started to say to Kieran.
“If it wouldn’t be terribly disagreeable, I’d prefer it if you’d
all find some way to amuse yourselves and leave me to finish the dishes.”
Wordlessly, the three Champions filed out of the kitchen.
Takaeyama stumbled through the first floor, walking aimlessly. At first,
he thought he’d head for the solitude of the music room. However, the thought
of sitting there, alone in the dark, plunking the keys of the piano, made his
heart feel heavier yet. He felt confused… He didn’t want to be alone, but he
didn’t want to face Kieran or Chieko or Harata… or Keisuke. He didn’t know
where he wanted to be.
No, he knew exactly where he wanted to be.
Moments later, he cracked open the door of the guest room and peered in.
Yukiiae was bent over Mina, swabbing the wound on her side. The Sabian had
broken out in sweat, and was breathing shallowly through clenched teeth. Yukiiae
looked up at the sound of the door. Upon seeing Takaeyama’s frightened face,
she said,
“You can come in.”
He stepped into the room without saying anything. He crept over to the
bed where Blue lay and peered down at him. Like Mina, the Night’s Herald was
coated in a sheen of sweat, his breathing labored. Takaeyama shivered.
“What’s wrong with them?”
“Infection.” Yukiiae didn’t look up from Mina.
“Will they… die?” His voice shook.
“I’m doing all I can to prevent that.” Yukiiae raised her eyes
again, and Takaeyama saw that her face was nearly as pale as those of her
charges. It looked as though someone had smudged the spaces under her eyes with
charcoal. Despite her exhaustion, she smiled gently at him. “There’s a
chair. You can sit with him for a little while.”
Takaeyama nodded. Ignoring the chair, he slumped down on the floor next
to the bed. For a while, he simply watched Blue, he heart aching. He realized
that he might never get another chance to say what he wanted to. He glanced up
at Yukiiae, who was still busy with Mina. He knew there was no chance of the
Decameron leaving the room, but he understood enough about her to know that
she’d studiously ignore anything he said. He took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I took you for granted.
I’m sorry for all of the times I was an asshole. I’m sorry that I never
cared how you felt, and that I only ever thought about myself. I’m sorry that
I never listened to you, and for all the times I laughed at the things you said.
I’m sorry I ignored you. All you ever did was try to help me, and I was a
cold-hearted bastard. I’m so sorry.”
Takaeyama fell silent and watched as Blue’s eyes flicked open for a
second before closing once more. He thought he saw the trace of a smile cross
Blue’s face, and knew somehow that he’d been forgiven. Sighing, Takaeyama
let his head fall to the bed. He laid his hand over Blue’s twitching fingers
and whispered,
“Please, please don’t die.”
