Chapter 13
The Hunter
She found herself wandering the streets of Tokyo, but it was empty. There was not a human or animal to be seen anywhere. Abandoned cars lined the streets. It was cloudy. The clouds were an ominous yellow. Gusts of wind blew dust along the sidewalks.
"Amon!" she called out. "Aaamonnn!"
There was no answer, no sound at all but the whistling of the wind.
She kept going. She gradually became aware of another sound, one that had faded from her awareness before: the distant, drawn out, rumbling heartbeat.
"What evil is it you think you have done, my dear Amon?" she wondered.
The city grew dark. It was night, and it was no longer empty. She heard sounds of distant cars and karaoke bars.
In the middle of an empty park, a woman furtively made her way through the shadows. She had light brown hair and wore a black jumpsuit. It was the woman Robin had seen before, the one she'd seen attacking Amon.
The woman stopped in the middle of a grove of tall trees. She took out a phone and dialed a number. "I'm here. I've got the files. Where are you?"
Robin, hidden in nearby trees, watched through the sight of a rifle.
No, not Robin: Amon.
Amon watched her as she paced, waiting for her to stay still long enough for him to get a shot. He was calm, cold, and controlled. But beneath the surface of his calm, he felt betrayed, hurt, used, and confused. But he ignored these feelings. She was a Witch now; killing her was his job. He would not allow emotions to disturb his aim.
Suddenly the woman stiffened and turned around. "I know you're there. Is that you, Amon?"
He didn't answer, only prepared the shot.
"Have the guts to face me if you're going to kill me, partner."
She was trying to taunt him into speaking so she could pinpoint his location.
"Kashiwagi isn't coming, is he? Did you kill him already? That comes easy to you, killing people you don't even know because you're ordered to. Is it really going to be that easy to kill me? After everything we've been through together?"
He had a shot, and his finger was tightening on the trigger when she moved again.
"They told you I'm a Witch, didn't they? They told us a Seed 'awakens' and becomes a Witch, but that's not how it really works. I've just admitted to myself what I've always been. What we both are, Amon."
He pulled the trigger.
With a wave of Kate's hand, the tree behind her twisted around to shield her from the bullet.
"There you are," she said triumphantly. "You're a fool to come after me in my own element. Not that I intended to give you a choice."
Her fingers stretched out to the left and the right, and the tree branches around her moved in accordance, with unnatural flexibility and strength they bent and stretched. She spotted Amon, now exposed, and with a crook of her finger she caused a tree to spin around, its trunk swinging toward him like a club.
He barely managed to duck out of the way.
Her power had advanced so quickly. Or had she always been so powerful and only hid it?
He rolled away from a large branch slapping into the ground, then he dove for cover behind a bush, and jumped to another hiding spot just as his former partner with her power smoothed it to the ground.
"You were going to sell the names of STN-J operatives to Witches," he accused her.
"So? I'm done with this battle. Witches and Hunters can kill each other off for all I care, as long as I'm nowhere near it. But it's not like Solomon will just let me walk away."
Amon, his back to a tree she hadn't taken possession of yet, checked his side gun to make sure it was fully loaded. "You were going to condemn your former colleagues to death."
"Kind of ironic, isn't it? That's exactly what your plan is for me."
Using her power exhausted her quickly, he knew. There was often a diminishing effect when Hunters used their powers, which was another reason he avoided using his.
Darting into the open, he opened fire on her while running as far as he could from the surrounding trees. Tree branches snaked in pursuit of him, while others whipped around to stop his bullets.
Kate's movements were beginning to slow. But it was apparent she wasn't about to give up.
He hadn't wanted to resort to this.
Dashing from his hiding place to a nearby tree, he dropped to the ground and used his power. He created a mirror image of himself. The doppelganger ran out into the open and aimed a gun at Kate.
The nearest tree swatted the ersatz Amon like a baseball bat.
Amon focused hard to make the illusion appear to move naturally, flying several meters before sprawling on the ground motionless.
Kate approached the illusion slowly. "Amon?"
Her voice, her posture, and her expression conveyed disbelief, though whether doubt or regret Amon couldn't tell. She sounded, confusingly, like she really hadn't expected to win.
"I'm sorry, Amon. But what choice did I have? Everyone has a right to self-preservation, even Witches."
She tried to touch the dead Amon, and the game was up. Her hand went right through him.
"What the..."
The illusion disappeared, but Amon had already made his way back to where he'd hidden his Orbo gun. He opened fire on Kate, putting four bullets in her before he risked approaching.
She looked up at him as she lay on the ground, trembling.
"You can't imagine how horrible this feels," she whimpered.
"I could say the same to you," he replied, and his voice held emotion he hadn't meant to show.
"At least do me the courtesy of a clean kill," she pleaded. "Don't let them take me to the Factory."
"That was not my order."
"Wait! Amon...there's something I have to tell you."
He stooped beside her, gun at the ready, and looked at her expectantly.
She whispered one word, and it was an accusation. "Witch."
He shot her with an anti-Witch bullet, one of the old ones carved with runes. Just one, in the forehead.
Robin found herself in a dark warehouse, the same rifle in her hands.
The order was shoot to kill. She...He...had done it before. This would be no different. This would be easier. He had never let himself get close to this partner.
And then he had her in his sights, her head right in the crosshairs. He'd have to take her at an unguarded moment. If she saw the bullet coming, she would incinerate it. And she was acting strangely, like she somehow sensed she was in danger.
She was becoming too powerful. They were right: she needed to die.
He talked to her through her earphone, giving her instructions on where to find the Witch they were supposedly hunting. She dutifully followed his orders.
It felt wrong to talk to her like that, like she was going to live, even as he fixed his rifle on her. He wondered if he was trying to convince her, or himself.
She was so young, so sweet, so eager to please. So beautiful. It seemed a shame to cut off her life, to bury that beauty...
To never see her again.
He ordered her to move to another location to give himself time to recover his resolve. When she reentered his line of sight at the location he had selected, he took the shot. His orders were to kill her. He would mourn her later.
But somehow he missed. She dove out of the way as soon as she heard the shot, but there was no way she should have been able to move out of the way fast enough to avoid it.
He opened fire, getting in six or seven more shots before the room went up in flame, blocking his view.
She would be on her guard now. He aborted the operation. And the feeling of relief that decision brought made him wonder: had something in him missed on purpose? He was an excellent shot; how else could he have missed?
It didn't matter. He'd failed in the hunt. Solomon would assume he couldn't bring himself to kill his own partner. They would send another Hunter.
The memory only confirmed what Robin had already known. The closest she'd ever come to death had been at Amon's hands. She didn't want that to bother her as much as it did.
It was bright, hot, and oppressively humid. She found herself deep in a forest of bamboo. She couldn't see the sky, but the sunlight illuminated the bamboo canopy like a glowing green gem.
She heard a gun cock behind her.
She turned slowly, and found herself facing Amon, holding a gun pointed squarely at her.
Was this from Amon's memory, or her own memory, or...
"Robin," he said gruffly, almost a growl.
"You know me?"
"Of course I know you; I familiarize myself with every Witch I hunt."
"Is that all I am?"
"All that matters."
She stared at him, wondering what was happening, and thinking how beautiful he looked in the green light.
"Are you here to kill me, Amon?" She asked.
"I'm a Witch Hunter. That's what I do."
"You chose not to kill me before."
He said nothing, but the corner of his lips flicked in a frown.
"Do you want to kill me?" she asked.
"I have obligations."
"You have obligations to me, too. You protected me. You said you didn't know if I should exist, but I had to survive for us to figure it out."
He looked confused, but he hadn't yet pulled the trigger.
"You took the Orbo bullet for me. That's killing you now. I'm trying to save you, Amon. Let me save you, and then you can decide to kill me. That choice is always yours to make."
He shook his head, frowning. "Why did I let you live? I'm a Witch Hunter. My job is to protect humans from your kind."
"Yes, but you do not follow orders blindly. You do what you feel is right regardless of what anyone tells you."
He shook his head again. "I follow orders. There are rules to obey. I'm not a Witch."
"They told me the same thing. They told me I was damned by my power unless I used it to hunt Witches. And that is important; when someone with a Witch's power abuses that power and becomes a danger to humans, there needs to be Hunters to stop them. And you are a great Hunter, but that is not all that you are."
"What else am I?" He wondered.
"My friend," Robin stated. "My partner. A compassionate, intelligent human being. I know you killed Kate. I know you used your power to do it, and I know that sickens you. I know part of you wishes you tried to help her. But it doesn't make you less human. Denying that you feel anything, denying that you're ever conflicted, that is what harms you. I know you don't want to allow yourself to use your power again, but you need to. You need to try. Or you will die."
He was trembling. Only his gun was still.
She stepped toward him slowly, stopping only when the barrel of the gun was pressed to her chest. "The truth is, I admire even this part of you, Amon. Your discipline, your drive, your dedication. You are perhaps the best Hunter I've ever known, exactly because you know when to let a Witch live. You look them in the eye, accept them for who they are. Maybe you didn't start out that way, but that's the Amon I know, the Amon I don't want to lose."
Without taking his eyes from her, he backed away slowly, until he merged into the green gloaming and was gone.
Was that what she really believed, that Amon owed it to her to try to survive? That he owed her anything? Was it that she wanted Amon to survive not for his own sake, but for hers?
Methuselah had warned her she could learn things about herself here that she didn't like.
Robin saw herself on the balcony of the apartment she shared with Touko. She was eating while the wind toyed with her wet hair.
Amon had watched her from the next building.
They will hunt her. They will kill her.
Her powers have grown too strong. She has to die.
She's just a girl. She has only ever killed to defend herself and others. She has saved my life. How can I let them hunt her?
She's a Witch.
Is she a Witch? Where is the line? And when did she cross it?
When Robin went back into her apartment, Amon left, still conflicted.
Amon stood in the living room of the apartment Touko and Robin shared. The walls and furniture were riddled with bullets.
Touko was in the hospital because Amon had stood by and let Solomon hunt Robin.
He checked his Orbo gun, making sure it was fully loaded and pressurized.
This happened because he'd failed. He should have killed Robin himself, then Touko wouldn't have been caught in the crossfire.
But that thought left him dissatisfied.
The living room, once so vibrant and welcoming, seemed desolate now, like a ghost town.
This happened because he'd chosen not to protect Robin.
He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in a wall mirror, and suddenly knew what his decision was.
He didn't want Robin to die. He was going to save her.
He turned and left quickly. There wasn't much time.
It was dusk, and Robin was once again in the deserted city, walking down streets that were familiar but eerily for their inexplicable emptiness.
She heard a small sound from down a dirty alley, a half-smothered sob. She would have missed the sound if the city hadn't been so silent.
She found a small boy trying to hide behind a trash can. He was curled up like an alley cat, weeping as quietly as he could.
"Are you lost?" she asked.
The boy looked up at her. His face was pale, his hair was dark. She couldn't discern the color of his eyes in the gloom.
"Not lost," he replied, voice shaky. "Thrown away."
Her eyes flicked over the boy's face. She knew him now. She hadn't at first. "What's your name?" she asked gently.
He shook his head. "No name. You need a mommy to have a name."
This wasn't a memory, she realized. She was looking at him, not through him. This boy was an aspect of Amon, a piece of his personality she'd never seen in him.
"What happened to your mommy?"
"She gave...gave me away. She didn't want me anymore."
"I'm sure that's not true. I'm sure there was a mistake."
The boy sniffled, and shook his head.
"Who's taking care of you?" Robin asked.
"Ms. Nagira, but she hates me, so I ran away."
Robin knew so little about Amon's past. Was he really so young when he began to fend for himself, or did this boy in front of her represent how young he felt at that time?
All she knew for sure was that she wanted to help this lost child. She wanted to comfort him and protect him, and get him to stop crying.
She reached out and pressed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't react to it.
"Where are you running to?" she asked.
"I don't know," he admitted quietly.
"Where does your mother live?"
He sniffled again, and then sobbed. "I don't know. I went to our old house and nobody was there. It was all broken."
"Broken..." she repeated. "Did your mother tell you why she sent you away?"
"No."
"What's your mother's name?"
"Just 'Mommy'."
"Why do you think she didn't want you anymore?"
For the first time, there was anger—a cold, calm hate unimaginable in such a small child—when he answered, "Because she was a Witch."
Robin grew cold. She drew her hand away involuntarily, suddenly afraid of Amon in a way she had never been before.
All this time it hadn't been a sense of duty and justice that had made him such a fervent hunter of Witches: it had been hate.
"Your mother was a Witch?" she asked.
The boy only nodded. He'd stopped weeping. It seemed his hatred had driven back a measure of his desolation.
In a dreamlike daze, Robin stood and backed away.
The boy stared at her with dismay and desperation. "Please don't leave! It's not my fault. I didn't mean for Mommy to be a Witch!"
She stopped and forced herself to turn back.
She had once said to Amon that everyone had some trace of darkness in their soul. He had replied that for some people it was a shade of gray while for others it was truly black. Had he been talking about Shiro Masuda—the Witch they were discussing at the time—or about himself?
Or was that what he believed about her?
"Do you know me?" she asked.
"No." The small boy was weeping fresh tears. "It's just," he gulped in a shaking breath, "you're the first person I've seen since...a long time. And you seem pretty nice."
"The thing is," Robin said deliberately, fearfully, "I'm a Witch myself."
The play of emotions on the boy's face was clear as crystal and heartbreaking to watch: a confused jumble of fear, hate, anger, disbelief, disappointment, and despair all chasing on the heels of each other. "No! You can't be! How can the first grown-up to ever find me be a Witch? It's no fair!" He collapsed on the ground sobbing.
Tenderness returning, Robin knelt beside him and tried to lift him up. "I want to help you. Not all Witches are evil. I don't believe I am, and I'm sure your mother loved you and thought she was doing what was best for you."
"You're lying!" He tried to hit her, but missed. "All Witches do is lie! You have no hearts! It's all a trick!"
"No, Amon. I would never try to trick you."
He stopped suddenly. "What was that name you called me? And why... What does it mean?"
"I heard it means 'the hidden one'," she said. "I didn't mean to call you that. It's the name of a man I love. He's a lot like you. He's lost, and I'm trying to find him. I'm trying to save him."
The boy looked hopeful for a moment, then he scrunched up his face and stubbornly shook his head. "You must be trying to trick him. Witches don't care about anybody."
"You're wrong. I care about him. And I care about you." She forcefully pulled him into her arms and held him tightly.
"No! Let me go! Let go of me, you Witch!"
He squirmed and kicked and swatted at her, but she didn't let go. She held him steadily until he collapsed in sobs, burying his face in her shoulder.
When he had exhausted his tears, she took him by the hand and walked out of the alley.
"I need to see the truth, Amon!" she called into the sky. "We both do. Memories can become corrupted, they can fade and warp. But the truth is still in your heart, even if it's buried. It's still here."
The dim cityscape faded away, along with the boy whose hand she still held.