by Isamu Fukui
“Was I . . . wrong?”
“You made the same choice as many parents of this City,” the albino said. “You fought only for the safety of your boy. I fought for the happiness of mine. It’s not for me to tell you whether you were right or wrong; think about what he would have preferred. Have you been loyal to him . . . or just yourself?”
The question hurt, for the answer was obvious. Noni had betrayed the one she had claimed to love. Her heart sank, a terrible feeling compounded by the nagging reminder that her parents, she was sure, had never fought for her safety or her happiness. Seeming to sense her distress, the nameless girl crouched down and brushed the hair out of Noni’s wet eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, and for a moment Noni winced, thinking that the girl was going to offer unwanted reassurances. Instead she said:
“You have nice hair. Do you mind if I braid it for you?”
Noni nodded numbly, and sat in silence as the girl slid behind her and gently began working with her hair. Now far off in the distance, Noni could see two specks, one white and one black, still fighting, unaware of what had transpired on the overpass. Somehow the distance brought home to Noni the fact that she really wasn’t a part of that intimate battle, that she wasn’t a part of Zyid’s life . . . and that she never would be.
And so, as the strange girl finished braiding her hair into a ponytail, Noni truly broke out into tears, crying her heart out as she hadn’t done in years. The other girl said nothing, but gathered Noni up in her arms and gave her a gentle squeeze.
It was the first motherly embrace that Noni had ever known.
The simple gesture was so shocking that Noni actually gasped. It was warm, more than warm. It spoke to her of acceptance, support, safety, and things that couldn’t be put into words, things she had never known in all her life, that couldn’t be imagined until experienced. She felt as though she could forever sleep peacefully in that embrace, and for the first time she knew what it was to be a baby in a crib.
For what seemed like eternity the two girls sat there in perfect silence, spectators of a greater battle that neither had any part in. Suddenly the sound of approaching sirens drew their attention, and Noni finally snapped out of her daze.
“So, more Enforcers are finally arriving,” the albino murmured, standing up. “I’ll have to keep them away from those two. Stay calm, Noni. No matter the outcome, your boy will be happier if you don’t interfere.”
Then in a blur of white she was off.
Like admonishment from the heavens, stinging hail began to fall as Noni sat there on the overpass, alone with her thoughts. The other girl had been kind, beautiful, strong, and graceful. Everything Noni wasn’t, everything Noni wanted to be. The other girl hadn’t failed her boy. Noni had failed hers, in more ways then one. Was it any surprise that Noni hated her? No, hated herself?
So as Noni helplessly watched the two specks slip from her sight and onto a distant ice-skating rink, she replaced the scarf around her face, so that she might again hide her shame from the world.
Though neither Umasi nor Zen would admit it, the two were exhausted by the time their feet hit the ice of the skating rink. Their heavy breaths froze into clouds, and hail had begun to fall in sheets, veiling the world and stinging any exposed skin. But all of this was a mere annoyance compared with the blows the two had already taken. Somewhere out there sirens were blaring, but like the ring of the school bell the sound no longer had the power to scare them. They had graduated from fear.
Nobody stood in their way as their fight reached the ice. This particular rink was a famous attraction of District 1, but was meant only for professional exhibitions, of which there were none that day. Zen had thrown Umasi over the barrier and onto the rink, then followed without hesitation. Umasi rose to his feet, and slowly, carefully, the two approached each other while trying not to slip on the ice. It was not unlike learning to walk for the first time, which, though they no longer remembered it, the brothers had also once done together.
Coming within striking distance, Zen lashed out with the crowbar, but Umasi ducked and threw a punch in response. Like lightning, Zen caught the oncoming fist with his free hand, and for a few moments the two combatants struggled to break the deadlock. They braced their feet against the ice, but pressed so hard that when the slippery surface finally caused their footing to give way, they were sent sliding in opposite directions.
As they came to a halt, the two realized that on ice their sure footing and refined movements were useless. The realization appealed to their more savage instincts, and suddenly their fight was no longer an elegant dance, but a primal struggle for dominance and survival.
Having regained some confidence in his movements, Zen surged forward across the ice as though he were skating and swung wide with his crowbar. Umasi dived feet-first, avoiding the attack and shooting straight at his oncoming foe. In Zen’s haste to get out of the way, he slipped and fell. He hastened to rise, but as soon as he did he was met by Umasi’s fist.
The punch was so powerful, the crowbar slipped from Zen’s hands as he fell backwards and slid across the rink. For a moment he feared that he might lose consciousness, but the punishing hail on his face kept him awake even as it kept his eyes shut. Then Zen felt it—something pressing against his waist. Reaching for his belt even as he slid, Zen’s numbly realized that it was a knife. Where had that come from, he wondered? He was sure that he hadn’t brought a knife with him.
Then he remembered something, and suddenly everything became clear.
Noni had brushed against him before she left.
Zen didn’t know how to feel about Noni slipping him a weapon without his knowledge, but he did know that to use it would be dishonorable. Yet he found that that didn’t matter to him anymore. A moment later he lurched painfully to a stop, having bumped into the edge of the rink. Zen had been pushed beyond honor, pushed into a corner. All that mattered now was that there was a weapon in his hand, and he intended to use it.
Zen kept the blade concealed in the folds of his windbreaker as Umasi shot towards him, sliding swiftly across the ice. Zen took a deep breath, then launched himself off the wall towards his oncoming enemy. The two clashed at tremendous speeds. The knife flashed in a single, deft stroke, and blood splattered over the icy surface of the rink.
Zen and Umasi slid to a halt a few moments later, their backs to each other, and Zen casually wiped the knife off on his pants. The patter of hail striking the ground seemed deafening as a heavy silence grew between the two brothers. Umasi was the one to break it.
“What next, Zen?” he said coldly, removing his scarf to bandage his waist. “Will you pull out a gun and shoot me if that knife doesn’t give you a sufficient advantage?”
“Spare me the lecture, Umasi. Brute strength means nothing without the will to win. This fight will be decided by ruthlessness.”
“Rationalizations betray insecurity,” Umasi said, turning around. “Let your actions speak for themselves, Zyid. In fact, they already have.”
“This newfound pomposity of yours will do no good, Umasi . . .” Zen spun around and dived into a slide. “ . . . not when you are dead!”
Prepared for the attack, Umasi jumped aside and hit the ice as Zen shot past with his knife bared. Sliding across the rink on his back, Umasi reached out with one arm and snatched Zen’s fallen crowbar as he passed by, then used it to dig into the ice and skid to a halt. As Zen came charging towards him again, this time upright on both feet, Umasi leapt up and swung the crowbar so fast the air hummed. Zen blocked the attack with his knife, but was unable to control his momentum and slid right into Umasi, who promptly drove his elbow into Zen’s face.
Zen dropped to the ground hard, but managed to make a swipe at Umasi’s legs with his knife. Umasi leapt backwards but slipped, and both brothers raced to get back on their feet.
Zen was the first to rise, lunging at the unprepared Umasi. Acting on instinct, Umasi struck with the crowbar, hitting the hand that held Zen’s knife. The b
lade went flying off to the side, but Zen hadn’t been stopped. He tackled Umasi, sending them both sliding across the rink once more, locked in a savage embrace. They traded several blows, until Zen struck a stunning blow between Umasi’s eyes. Then they were separated, just in time to crash into the base of the stairs that led up and out of the rink.
By the time Umasi had risen, steadying himself against the handrail, Zen was already running up the stairs. Not sorry to leave the ice behind, Umasi gave pursuit, feeling his limbs and lungs burn as a sea of lights swam into his hazy vision. He could make out Zen’s dark silhouette crossing the street towards an enclosure dividing two lanes of traffic. There were trees there, bare of leaves now but wrapped in wires of festive lights, making them visible even through the darkness of Umasi’s sunglasses. For some reason the world didn’t seem so hazy anymore, and as Umasi looked heavenwards he realized that the hail had ceased.
The light changed, and traffic began moving, but Umasi didn’t wait for it to stop. He plunged into the street, dodging honking cars again, nearly getting run over by a truck before finally reaching the other side. Though he was breathing harder than ever, Umasi straightened up and walked calmly into the small parklike enclosure where, he saw, Zen was already waiting for him amidst the glittering trees, plant pots, and small tables.
Zen had his back turned to Umasi, but Umasi could tell that he was holding something. To his tired eyes it seemed as though Zen was now clutching a rope of light, but Umasi knew that it had to be a length of festive wire torn down from one of the trees. The scene seemed oddly peaceful, now that the hail had stopped.
“Do you remember this place, Umasi?” Zen asked.
“No,” Umasi replied, looking around again.
“This is where we used to wait for the chauffeur to drive us back to the mansion.” Zen spread his arms. “I don’t blame you for forgetting. It’s been a long time.”
Now Umasi remembered, and the memories came pouring back as if a dam had burst. He recognized everything; the tiles they used to draw on with chalk, the table they used to sit at, the tree they had once been scolded for climbing.
From here, we could always go home.
“Why did you bring us here?” Umasi demanded.
“Why not?” Zen replied. “Both of us are tired, Umasi. We can’t afford to play much longer. There’s no limousine coming to pick us up, and there’s no home to go back to. For one of us, let this place be the start of a new beginning. And for the other, let it be the end.”
Umasi swallowed a troublesome lump in his throat. Stanching the flow of memories, he concentrated instead on the bruises on his body, the gash on his waist and the aching of his muscles. His head felt like it was in a cloud. Zen was right; one way or another, their fight was coming to an end.
“So be it.”
Zen smiled, then spun around, cracking the wire like a whip. Their final moves would be made at last.
Electricity crackled as some of the lights broke against the ground, but the wire was still live as Zen sent it shooting towards Umasi. Umasi dodged to the side and attempted to counterattack, but the moment he took a step forwards, the wire snapped at his heels. As Umasi drew back, Zen twirled the lights overhead, causing a dazzling effect, then lashed out again. Umasi ducked and leapt forward this time, but the wire swiftly doubled back, and he reflexively raised a hand to block it.
The wire cracked against his bare palm, and Umasi could feel tiny glass bulbs shatter painfully from the impact. Then came the jolt of electricity, worse than the sting of static, sending him reeling backwards in pain. Zen drew the wire back and then swung again, this time striking across Umasi’s chest. That blow wasn’t as painful as it could have been, cushioned by a sweater as it was, allowing Umasi the presence of mind to dodge the next crack of the wire.
Laughing now, Zen struck again and again, forcing Umasi to duck and weave but never allowing him to come too close. Sparks flew everywhere from the flurry of attacks, and Umasi, exhausted in both mind and body, couldn’t imagine a way to defeat a weapon with such reach. Zen was saying something now, but Umasi couldn’t hear the words. He was close, he knew, to the brink of death. A familiar place. Somehow, it made him calmer than ever, and for a moment he paused to listen.
Instead of Zen’s words, he heard something strange filtering through the haze in his head and the noise of traffic and sirens. It was the distant tinkling of a chain.
“I can never tell what you’re going to do until the last minute.”
“It’s a difficult weapon to predict, but it’s better for countering. You’re just dodging right now; if you were attacking me it’d be harder.”
“So how am I supposed to beat it?”
“Look for an opening after a failed attack.”
Umasi slowly began to roll up his sleeves. Zen was still talking; he hadn’t yet noticed that something had changed with Umasi. Suddenly Umasi rushed forwards, and the wire swished through the air. With speed that surprised even him, Umasi dodged the attack and kept going. Zen lashed out again, and this time Umasi neatly deflected the blow with the rolled-up portion of his sleeves. As Umasi drew closer with his sudden, impossible speed, Zen panicked and swung wildly. This time Umasi jumped over the wire and onto a table, and Zen, with no time to recover from his failed attack, was left wide open.
He could only stare in disbelief as Umasi leapt off the table and down at him. There was a tremendous impact, and the next thing Zen knew, he was gazing upwards, his vision swimming out of focus. He felt a pressure on his unresponsive body, especially around his neck. There was a hand there, he realized. Cold and unyielding.
Then Zen’s vision slid back into focus, and he found himself staring up into a pair of dark, triumphant eyes. Umasi’s sunglasses had fallen off from the impact, and for the first time that night, the two brothers looked each other in the eye.
Zen had lost.
Umasi had won.
At last, it was over.
35
THE BEGINNING
Late at night, in a dark and empty office at City Hall, a man sat at his computer terminal, illuminated only by the glow of the screen as he typed out an urgent message.
Dear Sirs,
The situation here is far worse than I had ever suspected. I now have good reason to believe that this City is under siege by an unknown rebel organization, and that the Mayor has been deliberately concealing this fact. The District 1 School was allegedly demolished last month, but after having checked the records I found that no such demolition had ever been scheduled. What’s more, dozens of Enforcer personnel have been unaccounted for since that incident. Rothenberg himself has been confined to a hospital ward with broken knees. Supposedly the Mayor has prevented him from receiving surgery that would allow him to walk again.
Perhaps most alarmingly, I have discovered that the Mayor’s surrogate sons are nowhere to be found. I am not sure how or if these mysteries are connected, but I do know that the boys have not been attending school for months.
There is no time; I fear that my investigations may have already attracted the Mayor’s attention. I request immediate Government intervention to secure this City, and recommend that the experiment be officially suspended. A separate investigation into th_
“What’s all this, Jack?”
The man froze with his fingers still on the keys. Hastily switching the monitor off, he spun around in his chair and straightened his tie.
“Just writing a report, Mr. Mayor.”
“Oh I don’t doubt that. It’s a been a while since you last contacted our masters, hasn’t it?”
Jack was careful not to let his sudden panic show on his face.
“What are you talking about, sir?”
“I know that you’re a Government spy, Jack. Even if I hadn’t known before, I would have after seeing the letter that you were writing.”
Jack sat up in his chair, abandoning all pretense of innocence.
“How long have you known?”
�
�I always suspected,” the Mayor replied. “But I was never able to prove it until recently. Your mistake was trying to use your position to conduct your investigation; while you were watching Rothenberg, I was watching you. You should have suspected that the appointment was a trap.”
“So I should have.” Jack nodded. “I guess that this letter won’t be reaching the Government now.”
“You know I can’t allow it to.”
“They’ll find out anyway. If they haven’t already.”
“Perhaps, but I used to have the same job as you, Jack. I know how these things work. I doubt that there’s a spy left in the City that I’m not keeping tabs on. In my opinion, the only way the Government could find out that there’s a problem is if it goes public.”
“Then since it no longer matters anymore,” Jack said, “why not tell me what exactly the problem is? Where are your sons?”
For a moment the Mayor was silent, his entire body a grim silhouette against the faint light of the hallway.
“One of them is dead,” the Mayor said at last. “I just found out yesterday.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, Jack. If anyone that works for me is at fault, it’s Rothenberg.” The Mayor’s face contorted in anger. “The doctors say that they can fix him, but as far as I’m concerned the man will never walk again. Nor will he ever see anything but the sterile walls of his ward.”
Jack shifted uncomfortably.
“So what happens to me?”
“You know what Government thinks of spies that get caught.” The Mayor shrugged. “Procedure states that I’m supposed to fire you, and that you’re supposed to sever contact with the outside.”
“How convenient for you.”
“I didn’t make those rules, Jack, but I think that they work best for the both of us. I won’t have to worry about you sending that report, and you won’t have to worry about upsetting me.”