With a hand still laid on his hair, Nezumi was checking Shion's breathing as he slept. It was a little weak, but relaxed. It was not erratic.
―You made it through.
It was quite something. He wasn't exaggerating out of politeness or encouragement. Shion housed a lot more vitality than his looks gave away. It was a vitality that was tenacious and strong. Nezumi gazed at Shion's sleeping face― exhausted and weakened, but still breathing regularly nonetheless― and realized how tired he himself was as well. He was mentally, not physically, exhausted. He could neither understand nor come to terms with what he had just experienced. A sense of unease consumed his mind and made his very blood tingle.
―What's happening in there?
No. 6. Something was beginning to brew in the interiors of what they called the Holy City. Something that exceeded the depths of human imagination was being born, and developing slowly but surely. Nezumi dug into the very back of a shelf and pulled out a petri dish. It contained something he had removed from under Shion's skin when he had cut the blister open.
―I can't believe this.
Yes, unbelievable things happened sometimes. Reality betrayed people almost too easily, and yanked people's lives at whim in unexpected directions. At times, it flung them to the depths of despair. It was cruel and violent. Absurd, even. It couldn't be trusted. Anything could happen at any time.
Nezumi knew it well. But he couldn't help being perturbed by this reality. Was it possible for something like this to happen? ―But the truth was that it had already happened. It was something that couldn't be brushed away, and he couldn't turn a blind eye to it now.
Nezumi returned to Shion's bedside. He lightly stroked Shion's hair again.
―When you wake up, will you be able to believe this reality?
Would he be able to handle it? Here was a boy who had been cradled and sheltered in the Holy City's core until the age of twelve. Until sixteen, he lived in Lost Town ― the outskirts of the city, but still part of it nevertheless ― and as a citizen, he was treated as such. Would someone who had been housed in such a protective shell be able to handle reality? Was he strong enough?
―Probably not weak enough to be crushed, though.
But he didn't know. He didn't know how much strength or weakness resided in the boy sleeping quietly before him. Whether he would withstand it, or collapse ―Nezumi didn't know. But Shion had survived, and that was another reality. To survive, you had to sink your teeth into Life and hold fast. No matter if it was unsightly or harsh ― those who desired Life most greedily were the ones that survived. Nezumi, from experience, was painfully aware of this fact. The boy before him possessed that avarice. It was far more difficult to survive in an unsightly manner than to die a beautiful and heroic death. It also held much more value. Of this fact as well, Nezumi was painfully aware.
―You'll be alright.
Nezumi moistened Shion's parched lips with water. Then he quietly opened the door and slipped outside. Dawn was breaking. The sky was lightening from black to purple, and a sprinkling of stars winked in the sky.
"No. 6." Nezumi addressed the mammoth city darkly looming in the distance. "You just wait. Some day, I'll carve out that infection of yours, and lay it out in the open."
A streak of light shot across the sky. A flock of birds took flight. The sun was rising. Morning was coming. The West Block was still thrown in the depths of darkness, but the Holy City, bathed in the light of the rising sun, glittered as if to laugh in contempt at it. Nezumi stood still, facing the City in silence.
