Adorable ladies, just as our pity is commended, so is our cruelty severely punished by divine justice. And in order to prove this to you, as well as to give you an incentive for banishing all cruelty from your hearts, I should like to tell you a story as delightful as it is full of pathos.
- Boccaccio, The Decameron***
He was walking amidst the blades of grass, in a hot and humid haze. He could see his own feet. They were very small. The grass grew high, and reached up to his shoulders.
He realized that he was almost buried in the mass of vigorous grasses because he was still very young. He looked up to see the cerulean sky, which was far and high up. The winds were quiet, and it was very hot.
He was called by his name.
His real name. It had been a long time since he was called by this name. The air shifted. The breeze swayed the branches above. The scent of greenery grew stronger.
Who had called him? Who knew his name?
He could hear a song. And the beating of insect wings. A black shadow crossed his vision. First one, then another, and yet another. Across a cerulean background, countless insects flew to and fro, making a ring. As he approached closer, they scattered in all directions, and came back together in one spot.
A dance.
They were dancing to the song.
Come here.
He could hear a gentle voice.
Let me teach you a song. I will teach you a song that you will need to keep living. Come here.
He was called by his name, and beckoned over. It was a voice that stirred nostalgic feelings. But he could not move.
The beating of wings grew louder. It buzzed incessantly in his ears, and the air was humming with it. Black shadows danced around fiercely.
Oh, this scene―
"Nezumi!"
He was pulled back, strongly, with a definite force. The song, the beckoning voice, the buzzing of wings, and the smell of lush greenery, all vanished into thin air.
"Answer me, Nezumi!"
A dim light stung at his eyes. A cold cloth was being pressed to the nape of his neck. It was very soothing.
"Shion...."
"Are you awake? Can you see me?"
"Somewhat."
"And you do know where you are?"
"On the bed..." Nezumi said at length. "Did you carry me here?"
"What's three plus seven?"
"Huh?"
"Addition. If you add three to seven, what do you get?"
"What's this about? Are you quizzing me?"
"Just answer me seriously. What's three plus seven?"
"Ten..." Nezumi answered apprehensively.
"Yes. Correct. Next―what's three times seven?"
"Shion, listen―"
"Three multiplied by seven. Answer me."
"Twenty one."
"Correct. Okay then, what did you eat for dinner today?"
"Gee, I wonder if that even constitutes as a dinner? I had two strips of dried potatoes and a bit of goat's milk. I stole a bag of stale crackers from Inukashi. Almost got bitten in the process."
YOU ARE READING
No. 6
Science FictionThe story takes place in the "ideal" and perfect city known as "No.6". Shion, a boy raised in the elite and privileged environment of his home, gives shelter to another boy, who only gives his name as "Rat" or "Nezumi" on the former's 12th birthday...