Chapter 110

“O ye prisoners bound for another planet, plow the wilderness…” They’d infected him with the song. The priest shrugged hopelessly at himself when he caught himself murmuring it softly and shut his mouth. It was the middle of the night, in a corner of a half-lit hallway. Slumped next to the door of their room, he sipped his now stone-cold brandied coffee. The singing and talking he’d heard coming from inside all night was gone now, and a late-night hush had begun to sink over the house. “Mr. Yoshiu, singing that…might not be the best idea,” the soldier standing at attention on the opposite side of the door murmured hesitantly. He continued to face forward. The priest likewise faced forward, sipping at his coffee and smiling wryly as he murmured back, “Yes, you’re right…” They were parody lyrics that criticized the Church’s teachings. If anyone were to overhear him, he’d suffer worse than a few scowls—they might even treat him like a heretic. And yet…he couldn’t help thinking these lyrics were more interesting. “Mr. Yoshiu. What do you suppose we’re doing here?” the guard asked, in the same quiet voice. This time the priest was the one to warn him off as he gazed vaguely through the railing at a painting hanging in the entryway. “…That’s a question best not to ask out loud.” And this time it was the guard’s turn to say, “You’re right…” They’re just two young ladies, just two close friends who went in search of each other after missing each other for a long time; why should I have to stand guard over them like this? He didn’t have enough conviction or drive to go against his orders, however. ……It really doesn’t taste good. The cold brandied coffee on his tongue definitely had a bizarre flavor. Just like bitter, uncooperative reality, somehow. She saw a tidy little white house in the painting. It looked just like a finely detailed painting itself. A house, a front garden with snug little flower beds, and a picket fence. A bomber plane roared across the sky overhead, but the little house sat there as peacefully as if it had no connection at all to that violent world. “Siiisssss!” a little boy called, on the verge of tears. A young girl came out of the house. The boy and the girl were both much younger than that time they’d worn mourning clothes. She wore a light green pinafore; he wore shorts and a vest of the same green. In the branches of the tree he pointed at, whining, was a toy…ae-ro-plane?…that had gotten stuck. Airplane. Yes—this was back when their planet still had the energy to power “airplanes.” “Right, here I go,” said the girl, looking up at the garden tree and hitching up the hem of her pinafore. “Sis, that’s dangerous!” “Nah, I’ll be fine!” She began fearlessly climbing the tree right in front of her agitated little brother and reached out toward the branch the airplane was caught on. No sooner had she cried “Got it!” than the branch she was gripping for balance broke. There was a series of snaps and rattles and crashes, and the little brother started wailing loudly. Just then a car pulled up to the curb in front of the house, and their parents leapt out of the car at the sound of him, faces pale with fear. “Ow, ow, ow…” By the time the girl hastily sat up, holding a hand to the back of her head, she was surrounded by worried-looking family members on all sides. In her hand was the airplane. She’d kept hold of it the whole time, never dropping it in the fall. “Sorry…” she said, shrinking a little in embarrassment. As one, the family heaved a sigh of relief. The girl shoved the airplane into her little brother’s hands as he blubbered her name and told him coldly, “No crying. Boys don’t cry.” He still sniffled, but he wiped the tears fiercely away so she wouldn’t scold him. The girl dropped her gaze. “Aw, man…” There was a huge tear in the hem of her skirt where it had snagged on a tree branch. When she lifted it up, she exposed a scratch along the skin of her bare leg. “Sorry…I tore it.” She looked up apologetically at her parents, who exchanged amused glances. “Well, good timing.” As the girl gaped at that, her father fetched a giant clothing box from the car. “Happy birthday.” The girl’s eyes widened when he presented it to her. It was so big, she couldn’t get her young arms all the way around it. She’d completely forgotten that it was her birthday today. She practically ripped the box open, delighted at the unexpected gift, and found an adorable snow-white dress inside. It was just a little more grown-up than the ones she had, and it really hit her that she was a year older now. “Thank you!” Holding her new outfit up in front of her with both hands, she hopped around the garden with complete disregard for the scrapes on her legs. Her parents called to her to wait until later or she’d get it dirty, but they were watching the whole thing with wry smiles. The little boy chased his sister around as she ran. The family’s laughter echoed in the garden. Happy birthday, Beatrix. Happy birthday, Bea. Sis— When the image faded out, the painting had gone back to the same old still picture of people tilling the wilderness. The room was quiet; she couldn’t hear the voice of that horrible her in the mirror or the cackles of the ghosts in the paintings. Just the soft, calm breathing of the girl sleeping next to her. She got up and sat on the edge of the bed to look up at what she could see of the painting in the dimness. Sheesh… A single tear slid down her cheek. Happy birthday, Bea. Sis— The bright voices sprang back to life in her mind. That’s me. That girl’s me. So, even she’d been happy once, surrounded by her family. There’d been a time when she was happy, with people who protected her and things she wanted to protect. If what reminded me just now was the whim of some sort of force, like what you could call the planet’s god… I’ll say “thanks,” just in case. I was plenty happy. In the morning, the sound of broken glass once again had him jumping up from the sofa, where he’d been snoozing. He really wished they would stop doing this. It was bad for his heart. When he burst out of the first-floor living room, the guard leaned over the railing of the second-floor hall exactly like before and shouted, “Mr. Yoshiu, outside!” The priest turned away from the stairs and flew past the entryway to jump straight out into the front garden, upon which he immediately skidded to a stop, doubting his own eyes. Two girls were falling down from the second-story window—! A blond woman landed on the ground with a raven-haired girl hanging around her neck. She wobbled a little on the landing, but other than that, she caught the girl in her arms and deposited her on the ground without any particular sign of danger. “Phew, I’m a little out of shape,” she said, cracking her neck and looking irritatingly self-satisfied. The girl, on the other hand, was pale-faced. “That was crazy, Beatrix!” “We landed safely, so what’s the problem?” The blonde pouted, like this was so unreasonable. They didn’t get very far before they came to a stop in front of the priest, who had unwittingly blocked their path through the garden. Behind the untidy blond hair falling in her face, the woman grinned, hooked one arm around the girl’s neck, and pressed a pair of scissors to her throat. “Huh?!” The girl looked blindsided. Though the priest flinched, he somehow managed not to lose his nerve; instead, he spread both arms out wide in front of them. “I-I’m not going to fall for that! It’s plain as day you’re just acting!” His voice rang somewhat hollow in his own ears. Unperturbed, she said, “So what? The point is, you had no choice but to let me go, because I took your boss’s daughter hostage. You follow me?” “…Huh?” “If you’d rather get beaten up, that’s fine, too,” she told him with a highly disturbing smile. That was enough to give him cold feet. He gulped. The guard finally burst into the garden. But Yoshiu turned his outspread hands toward him and gestured for him to halt. The woman giggled and tugged on the girl’s hand. “I’ve got some business to take care of, so I’m off. Well, then…you made life here a little bearable. Thanks.” She left him with a first-class wink that shot straight through his heart even in this situation, turning on her heel and leaving him and the guard both frozen to the spot. They could only stand there and watch them kick open the garden gate and disappear. (The woman literally kicked the gate—and hard; the hinges came clean off.) “Wh-what should we do, Mr. Yoshiu?” “Um…” The priest was still staring off in the direction they’d disappeared when he answered the guard. “At times like these, the first thing is to notify our superiors.” Thank goodness they both happened to have superiors who weren’t too cruel, the two men agreed with feeling. They finally stopped running when they reached a patch of high ground overlooking the pedestrian bridge over the railroad tracks, where they could see a long line of pilgrims making their way up the sloping path to Church headquarters. They’d sprinted the whole way through midtown, so Kieli was completely out of breath. Beatrix, meanwhile, looked just fine. Kieli glared at her a little enviously. “You scared me there,” she complained. “For a second I thought you were serious!” “Well, I would have been, depending on what he did,” Beatrix tossed back breezily, shoving the scissors she was carrying at Kieli. Kieli looked down at them blankly. “Will you cut it for me?” She shook her disordered hair lightly at Kieli. When Kieli widened her eyes in astonishment, she said, “Just look at how awful it looks now. I’d be better off going short.” She smiled, carefree, as if it didn’t trouble her at all. “Then let’s go blend in with them. We look perfect for it.” Beatrix pointed at the long, snakelike line of pilgrims below them. Kieli and Beatrix were both wearing black clothes, so if they slipped into that procession of people in dark greatcoats and hats, they should blend right in. Off in the distance, Kieli could see where they were headed: the dark-gray spires of the Church headquarters. “It’s okay,” Beatrix reassured her when she saw the uneasy expression on Kieli’s face as she gazed at those faraway towers. Her waist-length hair had been beautiful, of course, but this shaggy, uneven hair really suited her frank personality, too. Beatrix was always beautiful and strong. “If he’s coming, I think he’ll head straight for headquarters. It’s okay. You’ll get to see him.” “…Yeah.” Kieli nodded and gripped the good-luck charm around her left wrist hard. A copper-colored stone against Beatrix’s blond hair: the best charm there could be, made out of the colors Kieli loved best. Harvey, the Corporal…and Joachim, who hadn’t shown himself since that time in the hallway. How were they all now? It’s okay. I know everything will go fine, and we can all go home together. She squeezed the bracelet with her right hand, tightly balling her left hand into a fist, too, and stared hard straight ahead at the headquarters they were headed for.