From the edges of the city, tongues were loosed. From dire circumstances came the need to restore. The citizens affixed this spirit onto one person. Whispers of him became audible. Murmurs were turned into open stories shared by the survivors. Together, these stories webbed the region of the afflicted until each spoken testament, eerily similar to one another, formed a forte chorus of a single word:
Hero.
Over the span of a few days, Mr. Hattori and I pursued a low-tech approach to finding the one I had lost. Much as we had done before, we took to the streets, asking in as many areas as we could if anyone recognized the boy from our Polaroid.
We found many who were willing to talk. They told of a young man dressed in denim who had pulled out those trapped in collapsed buildings and rubble. Moreover, most admitted he showed a strong resemblance to the person in the picture. Some added that he was not likely to be one of the certified emergency crew members, whose presence were ubiquitous in the city the first two weeks following The Incident.
For me, the most maddening consistency arose in the fact that in each account, Jiro vanished before anyone was able to approach him. From the stories themselves, we were unable to ascertain a specific idea of where he was, save for the conviction that he was somewhere in the city.
Mr. Hattori recognized my frustration, and a few days after I had viewed the files of androids Ichiro and Rei, Masaru called me into the living room. "They wanna talk," he declared, hovering over my shoulder as I sorted laundry.
Etsuko and Mr. Hattori were not seated; rather, they were kneeling at opposing ends of the coffee table, a large map spread between them. They seemed so engrossed, they didn't notice Masaru or me enter until I called upon them, "What are you doing?"
Etsuko looked up first, "Oh. Hanpei thought this might help, but I don't know." Puzzling over what was in front of her, she waved her hand over an area that was punctuated with red pen marks, and notes beside them.
"It's a record of all the places Jiro has been spotted, and when. That is, if each story we heard really was Jiro," explained Mr. Hattori.
"With these buildings and streets still showing, how many of them actually remain?" I wondered.
Mr. Hattori picked up a pencil that was lying on the map, and with a sweeping motion, drew a semicircle. "This whole area is gone. After the ends of both these points, it starts to get better." Creases formed in his forehead as he looked upwards towards my face, "Do you see a pattern, Mitsuko?"
Etsuko shook her head in frustration. "There's no pattern at all! Why would there be?"
I joined Etsuko in inspecting the map, while Masaru sat next to Mr. Hattori. The red points I surveyed pulled together a meaning to me.
Little red stars; a chart to guide the lost, I mused silently.
"No…there is a pattern," I murmured, still unsure.
Masaru fingered the dots by his hand.
"Masaru, go upstairs and get a protractor for me," I instructed. He nodded, and scrambled to his feet. As he darted out the room, I shouted after him, "And walk!" The mental image I conjured of him running with a sharp object made me nervous.
Etsuko picked up the pencil and brought the end to her mouth, making unattractive half-moons along the rim with her teeth.
"Are you picking up my bad habits, Etsuko?" Mr. Hattori joshed softly.
She crinkled her nose; an expression of distaste in her present activity.
After Etsuko had thoroughly defaced the pencil, Masaru reemerged from upstairs. There were most likely three sets of eyes focused in my direction, but I took no notice. I looked into the red pinpricks, awaiting the meaning of it to assemble.
For me, they seemed like clusters, rather than arbitrary designations.
Clusters of constellations…I almost smiled at the mental analogy.
I took the protractor from Masaru and began using triangulation. I ran through the possibilities quickly. At the end, it seemed my hand was having trouble keeping up with my mind. However, the group saw the result before I was even finished: all of the lines intersected at the same point.
"Does this building still stand?" I pressed Mr. Hattori.
He rubbed along his jawline with his broad palm. "I dunno, Mitsuko. It's possible."
Still, Etsuko's claim was accurate. When Jiro had fled from me, a time which seemed like ages ago, there was no reasoning behind each of his destinations. This location, however, had a calculation behind it. And I didn't know its greater meaning.
It's like he wants to be found, I thought silently, but that left me with too many questions.
My own voice sounded far away as my head slunk back, "What are you doing, Jiro? There's no one left to save; the rubble covers only bodies now. Why don't you come back to see if we've returned?" I dare say I made the engaged pair nervous with this question. While I shared the pining of any of their other clients who missed someone, the specifics made it impossible for them to supply me with one of their generic responses.
"Maybe he's not well," Masaru supplied.
"Androids can't get sick; you know better than that, Masaru."
He huffed, "That's not what I meant."
I then remembered the glow of Bijinder's eyes, like photic sea creatures. Her wail, baleful with remorse, was easy for me to recount.
Longing for her Akira…
Like a banshee, the sound had pierced an emptiness inside me. I shuddered at its recollection.
"Hey." Mr. Hattori broke the silence with an overly jovial grin, "The great Hanpei Hattori got you this far, so why get nervous now? I always finish what I start."
Etsuko rolled her eyes, but she seemed relieved. She offered me a lopsided smile.
"Okay, Mr. Great," she jokingly countered to Mr. Hattori, "so what's our next move?"
"It's obvious." He cocked his head at me, "You feel up to scouting this place?"
I nodded.
"I'm coming." Masaru's directness made it clear that it was not a request.
Etsuko looked hopefully at me for a sign of consent. I suppose she was motivated by sympathy for the times he was left out of our inner workings.
I rested my hand on the top of his head. "Yes," I agreed.
Mr. Hattori believed we would have a better chance of finding Jiro around nightfall. There were a few slim hours between dusk and dawn when these rumored heroics supposedly ended. It was odd; moving about the house that day, I did not feel the elation I had expected. Instead, a calm confidence resided in me. I must have failed to recognize my own intuition once again.
I informed Father of our intentions to look for Jiro in the city. He was brusque, but did not usher me out before he began his exercises. From his window, I watched Masaru pantomiming a swordfight. His motions were swift and deliberate, not a wild brandishing with his arm. I could almost begin to see his opponent.
Finally, I left for my room. Certain I would be undisturbed, I permitted myself to stare long into my mirror. My clothing was appropriate for meeting an old friend. My hair had grown out, it almost grazed my shoulders, but I didn't think I looked any different than a year or so before.
I look fine, I told myself. But my confidence had momentarily retreated.
My hand grasped my hairbrush. As I brought it up to my hair, I began laughing in self-derision.
What are you doing, preening and posing like a schoolgirl?
Feeling foolish, I threw my brush down. It was insane to worry so much about what he my looks at a time like this.
I remembered that towards the end of Jiro's stay at this house, I would linger by the closet in the morning, deliberately selecting outfits I thought were flattering. I would pretend that it didn't matter, but if Jiro were to make a casual remark that he liked me in red, or I was pretty, I'd feel my face flush.
By the time Mr. Hattori and Etsuko decided they were ready to leave, the light outside was meager. It was growing too cold for Masaru to play, though when I slipped out the backdoor to retrieve him, a rolling, thick fog had enveloped everything that could have been visible. Fortunately, he heard me calling him, and I eventually made out his young figure jogging towards me.
As promised, Mr. Hattori stopped by a fast food chain for Masaru. I never understood the appeal of that sort of food: its seasoning and preparation is minimal, and its nutritional content dubious. Eating in a car seemed even stranger to me, but my three companions seemed to have no problem with shoving fistfuls of fries into their mouths as our vehicle cruised along.
The roadways in the affected area of the city had been cleared, and with Mr. Hattori flashing an armored guard his driver's license, we were able to move through most of it. I'd seen the damage from a distance in full daylight, but I wasn't prepared for the view that spread before me that night. Latching itself to the neon brilliance of the urban scape was a void. Like any black hole, we were drawn to it.
The building we had pinpointed was still standing, but that was the extent of its structural merit. From the stream of visibility the headlights provided, I could see it was surrounded by a chain link fence. The glass from the windows had been blown off, save a jagged edge or two jutting from the frames. It stood an unimpressive four stories. Even in poor light, I knew the sand-shaded façade was crumbling.
Masaru and I leaned toward the front seat. "Do you think he's there now?" I asked the couple.
Mr. Hattori wiped his mouth, "Probably not. It's too early." I could smell the onion rings he had eaten when he faced me, "I wouldn't want you going in there, anyway. That place looks like the wind could knock it over. Let me see if it's safe first, okay?"
"Sure."
As Mr. Hattori eased out of the car, Etsuko unbuckled herself so she could turn around and talk to Masaru and me. "Mitsuko! I don't know when Hanpei and I will be able to get married, but I've still been making plans." She spoke in a low tone, as though Mr. Hattori was still in earshot. "I don't have pressure about making a deadline to decide what I want, so it's been kind of easy for me so far."
Masaru rummaged through his backpack for a flashlight. He wanted to read one of his adventure novels.
"I'm going to be the most well-prepared bride ever!" she grinned to me.
I smiled back, not inclined to converse. My mind was too full at the moment.
Etsuko narrowed her eyes suddenly, not allowing a quiet to settle in the car. "Will you still call Hanpei 'Mr. Hattori'?"
"I'll always call him 'Mr. Hattori.'"
She sighed in defeat. "You'd better not start calling me 'Mrs. Hattori,' that's all I have to say."
"Mrs. Fish Cakes!" erupted Masaru in a sing-song voice; a pun on the name. He ducked as Etsuko playfully tried to swat him.
"Masaru…" I began to reprimand him, but both Etsuko and he were too busy laughing and blocking each other's mock blows to notice.
Mr. Hattori returned to declared the structure suspect. He hadn't scaled the fence, but looking through one of the shattered windows, he saw chunks of floorboard on one of the levels missing.
He answered his cell phone not much later; a middle-aged woman who claimed she had additional information for us. Etsuko and Mr. Hattori cajoled us to join them, but Masaru and I were firm that we both should stay in case we saw him.
Masaru was unusually patient, his book a companion, while my thoughts became more disassembled as my tiredness betrayed me. This was an unimportant and neglected street before The Incident, and the relief workers had done little else besides clear its streets. There may have been some crew members arriving by dawn, but at present, the air hung still, like a mausoleum. By the time Mr. Hattori and Etsuko returned, we were all too weary for discussion.
It was a matter of minutes before they both fell asleep.
No Columbian brew in a place like this, I remarked silently to myself, thinking of the source of their vitality.
However, a strange buzz ran through the length of my body, and it was enough to keep my eyes open. I wondered if after such a long course of separation, I'd turn into a stammering fool at the sight of him, or be struck dumb entirely.
As we waited, I imitated a habit of Masaru's and began humming. I'd find him doing this when he was carrying out his chores, his high, boyish lilt carrying into the next room. When his crow's black head sunk against my side, I was sure he had fallen asleep. However, after a minute, I felt his hand poking my side.
"I think we should go into the building, while they're still asleep."
I had misgivings about going against their wishes, but they were not as strong as the urge I felt to explore. "I do, too."
"When does he usually show up here?" Masaru's breath was hot against my ear.
"Mr. Hattori thinks it will at least be another hour." I pulled the door open as quietly as I could, and motioned Masaru to follow me.
There was a chink in the fence just wide enough for us to squeeze through, though it snagged the material of my jacket. Our shoes grated against the rubble as we walked.
As we neared the doorway, a deep voice boomed behind us, "Hey! You two!"
I involuntarily gasped as I turned and found it belonging to an officer of the law. He was standing on the opposite side of the fence. I could make out his uniform when I shone my flashlight in his direction. "Yes, sir?" I responded meekly.
"You two shouldn't be here. This building's condemned; can't you read the sign?"
I began to flummox for a reply, but Masaru bounded over to him, smiling amiably. "Our dog!" he exclaimed. "He ran off towards this section of town, and one of the neighbors here said she saw him go into this building."
"Really." The man spoke planarly, so it was hard to decipher if he believed this story or not.
"A collie dog; his name is Gawaine. Have you seen him?"
"Gawaine? How old is he?"
"He's two years old. About this tall." Masaru placed his hand at hip level. To my amazement, he appeared unruffled by all this.
The officer shot his gaze at me. I tried not to look down. "Where's his leash?" he queried with false nonchalance.
"We left it at home," I muttered.
"I guess it's late," mused Masaru as if this had just occurred to him. "We've been tracking him all night." His face fell sheepishly. "Sorry if we worried you for being out here, Officer."
The officer dropped his shoulders and glanced behind him. I got the impression he had somewhere more important to patrol. "I can't be responsible for anything that happens to you guys, so be careful, okay?" He turned and began to retreat to the darkness.
"Oh, we will!" Masaru was all poised sweetness, like a gourmet cake.
I stared after the officer's figure in incredulity. I would have stayed like that for some time if I hadn't felt a tugging of my hand.
Masaru nudged me in the direction of the building. "Come on, Mitsuko. He's not going to follow us." His voice dropped; it was clear the play-acting was over. Stranger still, I saw he had abandoned the silly euphoria he had felt in the car.
He did not unlatch my hand until we had both entered the building. Our flashlights provided a dim scope of visibility; otherwise, I doubt I would have been able to walk through.
It was easy to feel encased. There were chunks of rubble nearly half my size strewn along the doorway. Like a body in its descent into starvation, this structure had shed its muscle. To keep itself alive, fragments would fall, but the framework did not collapse.
Masaru was proceeding as quickly as his sidesteps through the wreck would allow, while I strayed behind. The thick layer of sediment looked like nutmeg. Through it, I saw a patch of plain white. I nudged my foot, and saw that there was more, much more.
It's paper, I realized.
I shone my light to the far end of the room. A bulletin board had fallen, and a filing cabinet was overturned. Yet as I panned the light from one corner to the next, I could see that some items were perfectly intact. The computers looked unharmed, and the workstations still had chairs to accompany them. I almost believed a spirit could settle there and resume the work he or she had started.
So it was formerly an office building. I grimaced and followed my brother. The stench was of mold, and I hoped in the next room to escape it.
We didn't call out his name as we walked. On the second floor, I paused to read a graffitized wall which said:
The leaving in my hands
"Masaru," I called.
There's more, I reassured myself. As predicted, I found another phrase by it:
Caught the thick oil for
What? I puzzled. There was no pause in locating the rest.
The flames of conflagration.
I let it drain through
And the touch of her tenderness,
the happy memory,
Dwindled as a translucent dream.
"He was here," I said quietly. I could have been declaring it to an empty room, but I finally turned and saw Masaru standing next to me.
I can't entirely recall what happened next. I do remember a sudden, sharp pain exploding against the back of my head. I was aware of nothing else until a thin gauze of consciousness stole over me. From my depths, I was dimly aware that I was lying on the floor, the rubble elevating me slightly.
It was nebulous, and it didn't even occur to me to open my eyes…
I felt the sensation of being lifted. There was a presence; it was drawing me closer, making me awash in its strength and tenderness.
Basking in this motionless state, I tried to remember when I had felt this secure.
Had I been this content with my mother when I was little?
There was a simple joy to being around her, but she always looked behind her, even when I was small. She was biding time to leave me.
Maybe once, when I was alone, near my father's cabin. I had wanted to believe there was something greater than myself, because then my isolation would be an illusion. In a field with the view of the rolling gray mountains, I thought the spirits could carry my misery far away from anything I touched.
I had the sudden urge to confess all the things I hadn't mentioned to anyone.
There's so much death…"What's happened?" His voice was gentle and wonderfully complex, like sonorous bells, or the wind by my house. I couldn't speak, only think my words, yet I heard his voice outside of myself.
He happened. Gill. There's blood everywhere. I don't want to see it anymore. I can't…"If you thought there was death, then it was only a dream. You'll wake soon."
Jiro…
"Hush now."
I suppose there was a time lapse. Everything darkened, but it was so soothing, I didn't fight it. It was out of my grasp and energy to fight.
After what seemed like a long time, I felt the brushing of a small hand against my face. Curious, I opened my eyes.
Etsuko was kneeling over me. She was visible in the pale gray light of near dawn. My eyes widened, unsure. Slowly bringing myself to, I could see the rims of her eyes were red.
"Hey," she said, voice shaky but smiling bravely, "you really had us worried there."
"What the Hell were you thinking?!" roared a familiar voice. Stretching my gaze, I could see Mr. Hattori standing at the other end of the tattered room.
I suddenly realized someone was missing. "Masaru!" I cried in alarm.
Etsuko put her hands on my shoulders, as if to detain me from getting up. "He's fine. We're letting him sleep in the car."
"Do you have a death wish? Is that why you're acting like an imbecile?!" demanded Mr. Hattori.
"Hanpei," Etsuko pleaded softly.
"I told her to stay put," he overrided. He turned away, and I could hear a torrent of muffled obscenities.
"You worried him, you know?" Etsuko smoothed her hair more than was necessary for a visit with a queen. I knew this habit to be an action she reserved for moments of extreme duress. "That's what happens when pieces of the ceiling start to fall on your head."
"Oh…Is that what happened?"
She rested her palm between my forehead and my hairline. "Masaru went to go find us after it started raining tile in here."
"I'm fine now, though. Thanks." I lifted my head, and a slam of fierce ache greeted the back of my cranium. My eyes widened in pain before I winced and fell back. "Ow. Ouch! Okay…Maybe I'm not ready to get up yet."
The room seemed to sway before me. Mr. Hattori looked down upon me from across the room. "We should get you to a doctor," he muttered. "Let's see what's around."
"I should stay…He was here. I should stay, for when he comes back."
Mr. Hattori and Etsuko attempted to exchange worried glances before I could detect them, but I noticed.
"He was! He was here in this room!"
Etsuko looked helplessly between her betrothed and me. She went behind me, and hooked her hands underneath my arms to help me up. "Come on, Mitsuko," she whispered.
"Why is that so hard to believe?!" I cried. "You both thought it yourselves. I need to stay."
"What if you have a concussion!" Mr. Hattori exploded. "Do you think he wants you to stay like this?"
I fell silent. Clinging to Etsuko, I was too weak to refuse her as a bolster.
"Can you stand?" Mr. Hattori was still short with me, but his voice was softer.
"Yes, I'll be fine." The trek to the building, the enclosing joy, the free-fall, and my present chastisement; it all swirled together in a putrid collage in my mind.
Stay with me, Jiro. Please…I was covered in grime. The throbs that pulsed rhythmically were proportionate to my nausea. I must have been grimacing, because Mr. Hattori raised his eyebrows.
"Take your time, hon."
There were still some volunteer physicians that had not departed for their homelands yet. We found a forty-something doctor nearby who cracked jokes as he shone his small flashlight into my pupils, and asked me to follow the beam with my eyes. He didn't believe that I had a concussion, but recommended that I get rest for the day, and be carefully monitored by family.
"We will," Etsuko reassured him. I found this both touching and perplexing. After all, who would volunteer for familial ties with a Komyouji, knowing our shameful connections?
I guess if Gill's minions didn't ward those two off, then nothing will.
I recall little from the rest of the day, as I slept through most of it. I had trained myself to rest in increments, but after my injury, I fell into dormancy as if it were an oasis. I suppose the heightened emotions I had felt through the last few weeks had finally taken their toll on me.
When I finally pulled myself up from oblivion, my unlit room had the pale washed light of a rainy early evening. I groggily sat up. There was no pain as I moved my head.
That's right, I remembered. I hurt myself, and had to rest today.
I stayed sitting up for what seemed like a few minutes, trying to revive from my stupor. I was awake enough not to fall back asleep, but I didn't feel anywhere close to being rested.
The door creaked, and I saw a sliver of my brother's face behind it.
"Hey, you."
He opened my door slowly, so as not to create too much noise, and stole inside my room. He moved to my bedside so quietly, I couldn't hear his footfalls. "Do you need anything?"
"No. Thanks."
"How do you feel now?"
"Better, I think."
"Can you move?" He was regarding me very seriously.
"Yes," I smiled torpidly. "Everything's going to be fine."
"I think you should go."
My brow furrowed.
"I mean, I think you should go back," he clarified.
"To the office building?"
His face lit up with determination. "Yeah, soon. Go as soon as you can."
"Well, you believe me that Jiro came," I commented. Masaru stayed resolute as I laughed bitterly. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm in a lot of trouble right now. Even if I could move, they wouldn't let me leave."
I saw Masaru's jaw clench. He started breathing harder, although he wasn't snorting this time. "I'd cover for you," he insisted, "I'll make something up."
"What aren't you saying, honey?"
He stared at my quilt. He was quiet for such a long time, I wondered if he'd heard me. Suddenly, his words came out in a torrent, "He's my brother, that's all. I know that. But there are some things I don't know about him."
"What do you"-
"No matter how much time I spent with him, there were some things I didn't understand," Masaru interrupted. "You did. You always knew where he was hiding, and, well, you always found him."
"It's not a contest, Masaru."
"Yeah, I know. But you're the only one who can bring him back." He turned away, distress leaking from his voice.
"Hey. I'm not pretending with you. I really do believe we'll find him. If you think it should be me to do this, then I'll do what I can."
He looked back to make sure I seemed sincere. "So go, okay? Find our brother. And don't come back until he's with you." He forgot to conceal his steps as he bolted from my room and swung the door shut.
Looking after him, I gingerly ran my hand along the back of my head to feel out a lump. I had grown tired of hunting down shards of a total picture of events. Though it must have seemed foolish, I appreciated that I had no misgivings going back. Jiro would have pursued me just as hard.
Before I flung my covers back, I thought back to something Jiro had said. He was incapable of lying, so why had he told me that The Incident was merely an unpleasant dream? It certainly had happened; the entire world had felt its repercussions. I could derive no meaning in it.
I still don't know what Masaru said to divert our houseguests, but I saw Mr. Hattori and Etsuko pile into the cramped car from my bedroom window a half an hour later. Father was resting, which made departing as simple as stepping out the front door, and making my way to the car in the dark. The clouds had dissipated, and a canopy of heavenly bodies draped above the trees. It was odd how something as arbitrary as a clear night made me feel guarded by unseen forces.
I sped along the winding stretch. Besides the palpable force of the stars, it was still, so still. I didn't dare interrupt it with the radio.
After I parked the car, I squeezed through the same yanked-away opening of the fence. To my good fortune, I did not encounter any police officers.
I made use of my flashlight again to navigate through the jumbled rooms. I wasn't entirely sure what to look for, but I felt compelled to move, as though magnetized to an unseen core. There was nothing; no further writings, no mementos or hidden clues to be found within the walls of the place. Still, I moved closer to the end of a room on the second floor, and my flashlight caught a patch of denim.
My breath caught as I slowly surveyed this. I could plainly see it was encrusted with the grime of this place. The buttons were large, and underneath was an equally sullied orange shirt.
I tilted my flashlight upwards. He wore a wilder look than I remembered. His hair, ordinarily overgrown, was now completely disheveled and falling impossibly into his eyes. Though matted from soot, it still had an enviable luster to it.
If I hadn't known better, I would have said he was gaunter. The shadows my flashlight produced seemed to misinterpret him. He looked like he had dark circles under his eyes. Only the color of the eyes remained unchanged: a warm and beguiling sorrel.
The dark around his mouth could pass for facial hair, I thought stupidly. I haven't seen him for months, and that's my initial thought?
I took this in for a long moment before I indulged my first impulse. I broke into a run to embrace Jiro. I almost grasped hold of him, but he flinched and pulled back.
I halted, startled. His motions had always been so fluid, yet now he held himself taut. His appearance haggard, he was poised as one who is about to take off, like a spooked hare. I stayed put, lest I contribute to his anxiety.
Keeping my voice low and placid, I asked him, "What's happened to you?"
He gave little indication that he heard me. His eyes flickered, but he didn't blink.
"What is it that's made you afraid? Is it the police? Don't you know what they're calling you out there?" Idiotically, I continued my speech as if he were giving me feedback, "A hero. No one wants to harm you anymore, so no one will come after me, either. Don't you see that?"
He finally cast his gaze in my direction. It was cold, as if he were meeting an unwelcome stranger. "You shouldn't have come," he said simply.
It was my turn for impolite reactions. I could feel anger welling up in me for all the time we'd spent apart, and everything I'd gone through for his sake. "How can you say that?" I sputtered.
"You came here looking for answers. But there's nothing to tell. And I have nothing else to give to you."
His words stung. They tore at me like acid. Since he barely reacted to my presence, I was determined to keep him from seeing me cry. Before I lost my equilibrium, I found a reply in my fury.
"How dare you say that," I continued in my jilted state. He had loosed a maelstrom of emotions in me, more than I knew I had had. I couldn't censor myself anymore. "You can't keep me from the truth. I'm involved in this by default. It's my birthright to know what happened."
He regarded me coolly as though he was trying to fathom my next move. "You have a lot. You have friends, a life, a place for yourself. You belong. You should go back to it. Your young professor is waiting for you." The last sentence passed through his lips mockingly.
Jonathan? I thought. How on Earth could he know about him?
"You're become more self-absorbed if you think that. Yes, I suppose you're right; why would I pursue someone who can't see past his own pain?" In truth, I only said this to test his reaction. I meant none of it.
This did affect him. For half of a second, his composure slipped from his face like a paper mask, and I saw exquisite torment in its place. I'd seen that flash of pain before; the grooves that formed along his brow, and the way he squeezed his eyelids shut. It happened as abruptly as a hiccup, then it was over.
I stepped gingerly toward him. Awash in tenderness, I stared into his eyes, and was transfixed. I was helpless. "And you," I consoled him, "do you think you have no place in my life?" Abandoning what little self-control I had left, I found his lips with my own in the dark.
That's when I felt it.
Delicate and smooth like rose petals, with a flowing warmth behind it. Moist like dew.
I stiffened. Before I could think to pull away, Jiro locked his arms around me, forcing me into his embrace. He was kissing back, the skin and plush moving against my mouth. It was still tender, but more passionate than before.
Though my heart was slamming wildly, I found my body untightening, as was his. He finally released me. Dizzy, I groped for some support, and found the wall.
"Your lips are warm," I addled. "Jiro, why are your lips warm?"
"You see," Jiro remarked, adopting his cold, formal tone once more, "I have gone through some changes. Like you, I can lie. And I can break my promises."
"I have never broken my promises to you."
"Oh, you haven't?" he taunted. "Didn't you tell me once that you would be waiting for me?"
"I left a message for you," I whispered thickly. "I know you had the book. Bijinder told me"-
At this, I caught a glimmer of surprise from him.
"Bijinder lives. She's…she's recuperating."
Keeping him affected was like pinning a wave down.
Suddenly, it came to me; "You never opened the book, did you?"
Silence.
"Why didn't you?"
He spoke as if in a reverie, "I didn't want it to know how it ended."
I sensed a double meaning. "Didn't want to know how what ended?"
"You and I."
I took a step forward, "We don't."
He chuckled. "It's funny how some things work out…Finding each other, after everything's gone to waste. I looked for you, in every dark alleyway, in every open crowd, but I never found you."
"It was the opposite for me," I offered. "I didn't want to see the person I left behind, but I always found you. In my mind, you were always there."
"Then that book was in my hands, the only touchable proof to me that you were real, and I couldn't open it. And I remembered; I had another family, and they needed me then.
"I didn't know I was going to lose Rieko. She had never fought before she knew she was an android. She thought of herself as a human; she had the temerity to do that. So Gill killed her… I think she died in front of Akira.
"We were," he lulled, "all of us spirited away. And Gill at last had his way. But his way wasn't killing us. No, not after the ruin we caused."
I shook my head, "Jiro, I know you. You're not hostile now. That means"-
"So he made us to understand hate and speak its language. He puts little chips in us, me and my siblings. Submission circuits."
I began gagging. Before I grew worse, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.
"Waking up, Mitsuko, I knew everything! Every impulse inside lured me and beckoned. I knew why people took temptation into their hearts, there was so much! There are endless ways to harm.
"Filled to capacity with this, I lied to Bijinder. I didn't feel remorse. It's just I had to escape my holding pod to confront Gill. I dismantled the engine room, and for the first time, I found release in destruction. In those explosions, a happiness built inside me. It felt like retribution, when it was supposed to be justice. I'd always been told that to rage is to lose control, but I'd never felt so in control of my body before. No whistle could hurt me, now that my Gemini had been completed.
"I found him in his command room.... He'd taken everything from me; you and Masaru, Akira and Rieko, and now he'd stolen the rest of my family." He blinked, and slowly shook his head. "They looked so hollow. They were filled with life once, and now they looked vacant. Dead…really like unthinking machines. They were lost to me forever.
"So when they attacked me once more, I did not hesitate. All it took was a wave of my hand. This rage for my fallen brothers and sisters flowed perfectly out of me, and I saw each gear and wire coming unhinged as they fell apart, their metal shells peeling off their bodies.
"All at once, I was sick with horror. Gill had robbed them of their souls, and had made me into a shredder for their shells… It's so fragile, life is. To have command over it is amazing. But after all, they weren't like me anymore. They were just 'mad machines,' weren't they?" he spat.
I moaned. "You forgave me- you said you forgave me of that," I entreated.
"They were someone else's playthings now, that's all. That's what Gill thought of all of us, you know: playthings. It didn't matter if we had flesh or metal bodies.
"After my bro"-he faltered as his voice hit a high note- "After they died, I had a perfect subject for this fury. He called orders to stop, but I wouldn't. Anger drives you, it gives you a single-minded focus. I didn't need commands; I had my own purpose!"
I couldn't stand it any longer. I cried out, as if in pain, and clapped my hands over my ears. "It's not true, it didn't happen!" I cried. "It didn't happen to you!"
He glared at me fiercely. In fact, he looked about ready to lunge towards me. Instead, he forcefully, but not roughly, pulled my hands away from my ears with his gloved palms. "No, Mitsuko!" he countered, "you wanted to hear this, you couldn't just leave it alone. Now, you will hear it!" He released my wrists and watched as I sunk to the ruined ground.
"I wanted to spare you this," he confessed. His voice was still wavering. "When I finally killed him, do you know what I felt? Joy! Glee! I felt glad, and I hated him for making me feel that way!"
Of course. It should have been clear to me all along. It was evident enough; I simply chose not to see it. I hadn't wanted to tarnish the memory of his pure, consuming love.
Reverend Fuuten, for example, had mentioned to me the oddity of how Gill's brain encasement seemed to crack. It didn't appear blown off, as one would naturally assume. Nor did it look as though some part of The Armageddon God had fallen on it, or that it was knocked into a wall and collapsed that way. He said the bulletproof glass may have given way by means of compression, as though some remarkably strong force had pressed upon it until the brain ruptured.
I had forgotten that he told me that until now. It was out of my mind before I ever composed the notes on my visit.
"Even here, right now, I am aware of it." Jiro snapped me out of my thoughts. "The evil heart he wanted me to have, and the goodness I am sure I'm meant to enact." He did not assist me as I rose. "Where's your family, Mitsuko? They must be worried about you. Look after your father. Look after Masaru." His words were a dismissal, but he stayed where he was, his outline visible in the moonlight.
Thank goodness for my own anger in that moment. I would not have been able to fight for him otherwise. "Coward."
It was hard to determine his reaction. We'd been so drawn to each other; our connection was like a cord between us. But now that cord was tenuous, and I feared if left him now, I would lose him forever.
"You have life, where so many people have lost theirs. Do you think this is what life is about? Hiding away, cut off from everything?
"I don't know what you expected it to be like. If you thought becoming more like me would make things easier, then I guess I raised you wrong."
"What do you say life is about, Mitsuko?" I think he was testing me.
"I can't give you orders anymore. I never could control you, anyway…I don't think you should look for answers in the person who built your body. I think you should look in the person who fashioned your soul. Maybe then you can find a way to live, without all this guilt. All I can offer you is myself."
"Guilt, yes," he said softly. "You know, it wasn't always bad times with us. They made me smile. Ichiro, he-I laughed a lot around him."
"I wish I got to know your brothers."
"So do I…Did you know Akira wouldn't talk?"
I wondered what made him switch subjects so suddenly. "It's called elect mutism. It happens sometimes to small children when they've been traumatized."
"He did talk, though. Once. It was after dark, when he should have been sleeping. My brothers and Rieko were split up, to survey the land better. Akira usually cried when he was away from Rieko, but he was quiet this time. Maybe he was starting to trust me.
"I put on my goggles, when I heard this little voice, 'Let me see your face.' I looked down to see where it was coming from, and saw Akira burst into laughter. I must have looked funny to him with my goggles on." I was sure he was smiling when he said, "I don't know why I thought of that just now."
Sweet boy, I commented silently, Bijinder's Akira. A pang of longing struck my chest. I wanted to find him so badly.
"Do you know what keeps me here?" Jiro inquired directly. "I know that after everything we've done, when we die, we'll eventually be forgotten. Even good stories pass from people's minds. And when that happens, it will come again. There will be another Gill. He'll just have another name. When that happens, we won't be able to stop him from hurting the innocents. Every era has a Gill. And I'm afraid of what he'll do.
"Mitsuko, do you think there's still hope?"
I was no longer afraid. I leaned in and rested my palm against his face. I felt the dirt on his skin, but also softness. Despite the early spring chill, I even felt a trace of warmth. He yielded to my touch. "You hide in the shadows. Let me see your face."
"Why? Why?"
"Because I love you."
He didn't embrace me so much as he fell into me. Not being able to support his weight, I tried as gracefully as I could to sit back without falling. Presently, we found ourselves awkwardly placed on the floor.
I don't think he noticed.
I pulled myself up as he held me. I became aware of blessed little myself; though I was certain I was safe. It felt like home.
His face was buried against my neck. I wondered if he was crying, but then the dampness against my skin told me he was. Eventually, when his ragged breathing subsided, I realized that I couldn't hear the quiet hum of his gears.
What's pulsing in him? I wondered. Electric currents? Or is it blood?
I'm not sure how long we held each other like that for. I lost a certain awareness as I felt his grief, tenderness, and strength flow into me. When I saw his features become more defined, I realized that early morning was approaching. We were both exhausted and spent from the cathartic evening, and I found it increasingly difficult to stay awake. Jiro laughed gently as he watched me struggle.
"Look at you! You can't keep your eyes open. You should rest."
"I can't…You'll leave."
"I won't," he reassured me.
"How do I know that?" I mumbled.
"You don't. You'll have to trust me."
Despite the hard ground, I must have eventually drifted off. Judging from Jiro's mercurial emotions, I could tell he still had a great deal to resolve.
Towards early morning, I half-awoke. I found myself propped in a more comfortable position, with my jacket fully buttoned. If I hadn't insisted on staying there that night, I'm sure he would have made sure I was in my car or someplace more hospitable. Jiro was by the ledge, wringing something with the rainwater in the gutter. When I saw that his jean jacket was buttoned, I realized it was his T-Shirt he was laundering. He hung it by the ledge to dry.
Much later, the painfully boisterous mid-morning sun roused me fully. I was stiff, and felt cramped, and it took me a moment to notice Jiro was not in sight.
I stumbled to my feet. "Jiro?"
I could hear cars faintly from the active parts of the city. I looked down and saw that the sediment from the building had caked onto my clothes. The broad strokes of my hand against the fabric to brush the dust away were the only noticeable sound. For a moment, I did find my vision blurred, but not from the poor breathing conditions. I thought of the worst: Jiro had broken his word to me.
The instant I felt the acrid remorse, I saw him standing by the window. "Oh," I breathed.
"There were looters last night."
"What?"
"You sleep like a hibernating animal." The corners of his lips upturned slightly. His gaze was gentle. "Some businesses have vaults for company money. Looters were invading the condemned buildings and trying to crack the safes. They were coming pretty close to this one. I took care of it."
"You…"
"It's funny; I wanted to hurt them, I almost did, but I didn't. Do you think that's strange?"
I didn't reply directly. "What do you intend to do now?"
He shrugged, looking lost. "You're right, Mitsuko. There's nothing for me here…I can't stay here, so where should I go?"
"Home, if you'll accept that." I was trying not to sound as impartial and rational as I could, but I knew the look I threw him was pleading.
"Where is that? That house?" He must have come to hate that place almost as much as I did.
"It's where you make it to be. Does it matter where it is?"
"No," he slowly shook his head, and quite unexpectedly, he broke into a radiant smile. I grinned back, pleased.
"Mitsuko," he continued, "I'm unsure about a lot of things. I don't know if I'll be good for you, anymore. But I've decided that there has been enough death. I want to live as a tribute to those who will never experience this world anymore.
"I'm sure of my love for you. I've always been sure of that. Is that enough for you?"
I nodded, "We'll have time to talk. But I don't want to stay here any longer."
He beamed at me, "My Sidemachine's waiting. Let's go home." He grasped his gloved hand in mine. Together, we walked out of the building, and stepped into the day.