Chapter 6: Chishiki - Knowledge

It must be hard, being the last one of your kind, Sakurako thought, looking at the Grongi woman who sat straight-backed in the plastic chair as Doctors Tsubaki and Enokida pored over the results of the barrage of tests they'd run on her. Not that Sakurako had any kind of sympathy for the Grongi; no, after having too many friends and colleagues slaughtered by Number Zero, after losing Godai not once but twice, and after being nearly killed by one herself, she had no sympathy for them at all. Still, the part of her that was an archaeologist and researcher remembered that it had been the Grongi who taught the Rinto people how to write, and wanted to ask questions of this last living individual. But somehow she didn't think Ichijou would appreciate that. She glanced at the detective, thinking she'd never seen him so tense, his attention divided evenly between Ra'Babuba'De and Godai.

Godai seemed to have appointed himself some sort of guardian of the woman, or at least was willing to give her more of a chance than the rest of them were, from the way he stood subtly between her and Ichijou. The quietly conferring doctors seemed to reach a consensus and turned to face the rest of them. Ichijou's face spoke volumes about what he wanted their verdict to be. "She's human," Tsubaki reported. "Approximate age twenty-eight, height and weight normal, no anomalies found. Blood type AB," he added, and seeing Ichijou's stifled twitch, Sakurako suddenly knew what blood type the detective was. She wasn't surprised.

Tsubaki took the chair in front of Ra'Baruba'De and sat down, leaning toward her. "How many people did you kill?" he asked bluntly.

She looked at him emotionlessly. Even when the needle had gone in her arm to draw a blood sample she hadn't so much as twitched, looking on dispassionately instead, a bit like an empress. Or someone with a thick wall of glass holding her apart from the rest of the world. "The Gameskeeper does not participate in the Game," she said.

"Thank goodness," Godai said effusively. "You see, you don't have to arrest her after all, Ichijou-san."

"She's still an accessory to, an accomplice to, and guilty of incitement to murder," the detective retorted.

"Ichijou-san..."

"It's not always possible," Jean said suddenly, looking up from where he'd been gazing off into nothing, "to judge one culture by another. Perhaps we should be asking... why did the Grongi kill humans?"

Ra'Baruba'De assessed him coolly, then looked away. "We had already long lived in these lands when the Rinto first came," she said. "They were, in the beginning, like any other tribe of passing animals, save that their form was like ours. But they were not people; they had no speech, no writing, no culture. They were beasts. But their form intrigued he who was then N'Daguba'Zeba, and he thought they might be distant kin, fallen to a lesser state. He commanded gentility toward the beasts, and seeing no harm in it then, we obeyed."

"You were here before the Rinto?" Sakurako asked.

Ra'Baruba'De ignored her and continued. "Over time, we taught them speech. We gave them fire, that they might not be cold. We taught them weaving, that they might clothe themselves. We gave them writing, and agriculture, and knowledge of the seasons, the sun and the stars. All that they were, they owed to us. Once in a while, we took one of the comelier or brighter into our homes, as a servant, as a companion."

"As a pet," Tsubaki cut in.

Ra'Baruba'De ignored him too. "Some bred with the Rinto, to see if their bloodlines might not be elevated. N'Daguba'Zeba was one such. His halfling son was raised among us, and proved quick and clever beyond his dam's kind. When our Lord felt the pull of the shadow world upon him finally, it was agreed that his spawn might join the Game, along with N'Daguba'Zeba's true son of our blood. By then the Rinto had grown thick and numerous; as with all succession rites, threats to our land and people must be removed. The Rinto were to be thinned." She stopped for a moment and seemed to be looking into the past.

"The halfling... Kuuga... disappointed his sire and would not compete," she said slowly. "It was instead his full-blooded brother who won the rank of N'Daguba'Zeba. But perhaps because that brother slaughtered the halfling's dam among the other Rinto, the halfling betrayed us. He stole some of the sacred stones and with the smithcraft we had taught him, fashioned them into armor for warrior and steed. Where he could not fight against his dam's folk, he fought against his sire's. Still, he was weak," she said with a hint of scorn, "and merely imprisoned N'Daguba'Zeba into sleep. Bereft of our Lord's will, those of us remaining decided to sleep as well, waiting until the day he should wake us. And when he did, he declared the new Game, vengeance on the Rinto who had betrayed us, razed our homes, killed our children, buried them under stone and bound them by the very rope we had taught them to make. But now the Grongi... are no more."

"The Grongi were the kami, weren't they?" Sakurako breathed in sudden understanding. All of a sudden it made sense... shapeshifters, nature spirits with powers beyond those of man... She could hardly breathe for the insight. And the horror. They'd slaughtered the kami. The kami had slaughtered them.

"Sawatari-san, you can't believe--" Ichijou protested.

"There are two sides to any story, Ichijou-san," Godai said lowly. "No one fights without a reason."

"Godai--" But the expression on Godai's face drew Ichijou's words up short. "Godai, you can't believe," he tried again.

"But I do," Godai replied. "She doesn't feel like she's lying. What does she have to lie about, anymore?"

"I would rather have died with my people than live among the Rinto," Ra'Baruba'De said, looking up at the detective. "The next time you kill me, aim more true, warrior."

Who seemed taken aback, looking around the room. He took a quick breath, swallowed. "I'm sorry," he started. "I can't-- I'm sorry," he apologized again with a little bow, and left the room in a rush.

"Ichijou-san!" Godai cried out a hair faster than many of the rest of them did. He, too, looked around the room. "Excuse me," he said, and ran out the door after Ichijou.

Yuusuke caught up with Ichijou in the underground parking lot. The detective stood by his car, head down, hands fisted. Taking a deep breath, Yuusuke slowly walked up and stopped behind him. "Ichijou-san," he said quietly.

"We made gods out of murderers," Ichijou said, his voice thick with despair.

"Well, maybe," Yuusuke admitted. He put his hands in his pockets and looked up at the ceiling, trying to put his thoughts together into clear words. "But... do you know why Kuuga's Ultimate Form didn't turn me evil, Ichijou-san?"

Ichijou turned to look at him. "Because you're not evil," he replied.

Yuusuke shook his head. "Well, maybe that's so," he admitted, "but I don't think that's it entirely, Ichijou-san. The reason it didn't... is because I knew it could. Not that the armor could turn me evil, but that I could turn evil. I could have become like N'Daguba'Zeba. But because I knew that, because I realized that and kept mindful of it... I didn't."

"How could you be evil?" Ichijou almost scoffed.

"Do you remember Number 42?" Yuusuke asked.

Ichijou nodded. "Of course. You protected that boy--"

"I wanted to hurt him," Yuusuke cut in. "I was so angry. I wanted to hurt him for doing that to kids. For enjoying it like that. And, Ichijou-san, while I was fighting him... I liked it." He couldn't feel any pain over that admission; he'd made peace with that part of himself. But he looked Ichijou straight in the eyes, not wanting the detective to misunderstand what he was saying. "I enjoyed fighting him, hurting him... killing him. I felt he deserved it. The same way the Grongi must have felt about us. That's why I didn't turn evil, Ichijou-san. Because I knew it was in me."

"Godai, you're nothing like them," Ichijou denied.

"I'm exactly like them," Yuusuke replied. "And, Ichijou-san, if I believe there's darkness inside me, then I have to believe there's light inside them."

"Godai..." Ichijou looked lost, and Yuusuke felt the urge to comfort him.

"She hasn't killed anyone," he said, taking a step closer to the detective, "and everyone and everything she's ever known has been killed or torn away. I'm not asking you to like her, Ichijou-san. But I think she's worth helping."

"You really believe she's not evil?" Ichijou asked, and they were close, so close that Yuusuke could almost feel the warmth of Ichijou's breath on his face.

"Yes," Yuusuke answered, and they stood there, looking at one another, motionless.

Godai's last words kept echoing in Ichijou's ears long after the other man had left him in the garage, heading back toward Tsubaki's office. "Evil isn't inherent, Ichijou-san. Neither is good. They're both just what we choose."

If Ra'Baruba'De wasn't inherently evil... then why had Ichijou shot her with the intention to kill, not just once, but twice?

Godai was likely right. He was always right about this kind of thing in the end.

What if the evil wasn't in the Grongi, but in Ichijou's own heart?

Ichijou opened his car door and sat down.

He stared at his hands on the steering wheel for a long, long time.