Truancy

by Isamu Fukui

  “Why did the Truancy defend that place so stubbornly?” the Mayor demanded; it was a question that had gone so far as to interrupt his sleep.

  “We can only conclude that they wanted a battle, though we really don’t know why,” the cabinet member replied. “Perhaps they wanted to inflict damage; they certainly did manage to pile up a lot of Enforcer bodies.”

  “That they did.” The Mayor frowned. “And the amount of equipment they destroyed was even more astonishing. But I am satisfied with the number of Truants that were killed. Forty-seven, I believe, at the last count? Much more than we’ve ever been able to bag at once.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” the cabinet member confirmed. “Additionally, we expect to uncover more bodies as we continue to search the area.”

  “I can’t imagine that they can afford to lose that many people repeatedly,” the Mayor said, sounding optimistic. “If they ever allow a full-scale battle again, I’ll be happy to oblige them.”

  The cabinet members grinned at each other; it was very rare to get the Mayor into this good a mood.

  “Anyway, you mentioned that you have some other news for me?” the Mayor said.

  “That’s right sir,” a cabinet member said proudly. “Remember several weeks ago, you asked us to search for the boy that allegedly trained in District 19?”

  “The blond kid?” The Mayor suddenly clenched his lighter tightly.

  “He … says his name is Edward,” the cabinet member explained. “And we’ve found him. Or rather, he found us.”

  “Where is he?” the Mayor demanded.

  “Waiting outside at this very moment, sir,” the cabinet member said.

  “Waiting? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  The Mayor strode over to the door, seized the knob, and swung it open to reveal a teenage boy who stood in the hallway with his arms crossed. The Mayor looked the boy up and down. He had short blond hair and a soft, pale complexion. He might even have looked gentle, were it not for the long, thin eyebrows that gave him an unnervingly sharp appearance. He wore opaque black sunglasses that he had tilted down just enough to reveal striking green eyes, and he was clothed in a standard gray student’s uniform.

  “Edward?” the Mayor said.

  “That’s my name.” The boy nodded. “I take it that you’re the Mayor?”

  “I am,” the Mayor confirmed.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you. And I’ve seen you on TV, of course.” Edward’s eyes narrowed as he swept the sunglasses from his face. “My old mentor used to talk about you all the time. I think he regrets that now.”

  The Mayor smiled as though contemplating a winning lottery ticket. He turned to face his cabinet, which had been staring at the pair intently.

  “Leave us.”

  The cabinet members knew better than to protest. They quickly gathered up their assorted papers, clipboards, notepads, and briefcases and filed out of the room. Once the last of the cabinet members was out of sight, the Mayor beckoned to Edward.

  “Come inside.”

  Edward walked into the Mayor’s office and looked around. Spotting a padded armchair in one corner, Edward strolled over to it and seated himself in it comfortably, as though he were in his own house. The Mayor sat down behind his desk and surveyed the boy carefully.

  “So, Umasi taught you?” the Mayor asked.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Edward replied, holding the Mayor’s gaze unblinkingly.

  “What did you learn?” the Mayor pressed.

  “A mixed bag. Strategy, personal combat, even some philosophy, though I ignored most of that,” Edward answered with a grin. “I assure you, I am more than qualified for your job.”

  “Oh?” The Mayor flipped his lighter open. “And what job is that?”

  Edward smirked, and his acid green eyes flashed as his sunglasses slid farther down his nose.

  “I am not stupid, Mr. Mayor,” Edward declared. “There’s only one reason that you would seek me out. You need help against the Truancy.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly right,” the Mayor said. “I knew my son would not have mentored a stupid boy. But that leads me to wonder; what made you part ways with him?”

  Edward’s grin vanished.

  “Umasi and I had a few … disagreements,” he said guardedly. “He seemed to think I was too aggressive, if you can believe it.”

  The Mayor remembered the report of the Enforcer whose kneecaps had been shattered while scouting out District 19. Far from being repulsed, however, the Mayor was pleased; someone aggressive and violent was exactly the type of person who could fight the Truancy on their own terms.

  “On one occasion he actually said that I was selfish,” Edward continued. “He kept trying to fill my head with all sorts of pacifist nonsense, so in the end I ditched him.” Edward ran a hand through his short, bristly hair.

  “I will admit, however, that I underestimated your son. I tried to give him a piece of my mind before I left. I lost, and I have no intention of crossing him again, though I did get away with these.” Edward pointed at his sunglasses.

  The Mayor swelled with pride for his son, ignoring the likelihood that he was playing into the reaction that Edward had intended.

  “So, it would not trouble you that Umasi wouldn’t approve of you being here?” the Mayor asked.

  “We left on bitter terms.” Edward nodded. “And in any case, I never had much respect for his views. Respect for his talents, yes, but opinions, no.”

  “And what of your talents?” the Mayor asked, unable to keep the eagerness from his voice. “How do you compare?”

  “Umasi once told me that I was his most dangerous student.” Edward smiled at the Mayor. “He had two others before me, I believe, though he never talked about them much. I’m as good as you’re going to get, unless you can get your son to come out of hiding and join you.”

  “That’s not likely to happen,” the Mayor said, shutting his lighter loudly. “So, you believe that you can help us against the Truancy?”

  “That’s right.” Edward’s voice now turned businesslike. “My first recommendation is that you need to stop trying to conceal the Truancy from the public, immediately. You’re only doing their work for them.”

  “What?” the Mayor asked, taken aback. “If we give them publicity, then we look like we’re not in control. It might incite more students to join them.”

  Edward’s grin turned predatory.

  “Not if you turn the students against them,” Edward said. “You control the media; put a malicious spin on the Truancy. Make them look like the enemies of the entire City; make them hated and hunted.”

  “It’s an idea,” the Mayor conceded. “But there are other problems with that. There are … powers … outside this City, observing our progress. If they feel that our control of society is failing, it will mean even bigger trouble for us, all of us.”

  Edward frowned. “Umasi never mentioned anything about that. Would you care to elaborate?”

  “No. Some secrets must be kept,” the Mayor said firmly. “Umasi wouldn’t and couldn’t have told you either—he doesn’t know. It is perhaps the best-kept secret in the City, and we should all hope it stays that way.”

  Edward seemed slightly troubled at not being let in on the secret, but quickly rallied.

  “If you adopt all my other proposals,” Edward declared, “the Truancy will surely fall long before any outside interference. This is why, at the same time you make the Truancy public, you must also form a Student Militia.”

  “A Student Militia?”

  “Yes.” Edward nodded. “Nothing would be a bigger blow to the Truancy’s morale than to see students taking up arms against them. And not only that—there are hundreds of thousands of students in this City. Simply offer immediate graduation as a reward for service, and you’ll have an instant army at your command.”

  “That would defeat the entire purpose of our school system.” The Mayor frowned.

  “But it will end the
Truancy,” Edward pointed out. “The school system can be restored after the war is won. Otherwise the Truancy will destroy it, utterly. They must be dealt with above all other concerns, and it would be prudent to use any tool you have available.”

  “What else do you suggest?” the Mayor asked with grudging respect.

  “Offer amnesty to Truant deserters,” Edward said without hesitation. “When faced with killing other children, I’m willing to bet that half of the Truancy will put down their weapons and walk away. From the information we might get from them, the Truancy could fall in a matter of weeks.”

  “I don’t like the idea of letting them walk away without even a slap on the wrist.” The Mayor clicked his lighter open.

  “Then keep them tagged and kill them all after the Truancy is finished,” Edward said dispassionately. “It’s all the same to me.”

  “Is that so?” The Mayor shut his lighter and slipped it into his pocket. Though he approved of the boy’s ruthlessness, he couldn’t help but be suspicious of his motives. “And what would you want in return?”

  “To assume a position among the leadership of this City,” Edward said confidently. “A place on your cabinet, perhaps. And on the City Council, too.”

  The Mayor smiled. So, that’s what the boy was after: personal gain. Here was someone with great ambitions along with the talents and intelligence needed to achieve them. The Mayor could relate to Edward, but was careful to remind himself not to let the boy get too ambitious.

  “The position of Chief Enforcer is vacant,” the Mayor said. “Would that interest you at all?”

  “It’s a start.” Edward grinned.

  “Yes, it is a start,” the Mayor said, thinking fast. “Let us make a deal. You will lead the Enforcers for two weeks. If your performance impresses me, then the title becomes permanent and I will ratify every one of the suggestions you have made. And if your performance is not impressive—”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” Edward said lazily, leaning back in the padded armchair. “Shall I start today?”

  “I don’t see why not,” the Mayor said briskly, standing up. “Let’s go find you a uniform that’ll fit.”

  * * *

  It was like a dream, Tack decided. Yes, it was definitely a surreal sensation that he felt as he climbed over the wooden barrier and dropped down onto the other side, banging his shoulder against the hard, welcoming asphalt of the District 19 streets. Tack got up and began walking steadily along the route he had traversed in what felt like a different life. As he rounded a corner, his heart leaped at the sight of a familiar lemonade stand, and a familiar boy sitting behind it with his legs up on the table and a book in his hands.

  Tack approached the stand determinedly. The boy shut his book, laid it on the ground, and looked up to survey Tack regally behind his opaque sunglasses. Tack drew up to the stand, and sat down on the same hard, metal folding chair that he had once been so familiar with.

  Across from Tack, Umasi sat with arms crossed. Tack shuffled nervously, trying desperately to find the right words to say. As the silence stretched on, he cast his gaze towards the jug of lemonade. The ice in it had half-melted, and its glass surface was slick with perspiration. Looking back up at Umasi, who had remained motionless, Tack slowly drew a crisp bill from his jacket and placed it upon the table.

  Almost mechanically, Umasi nodded and took a paper cup from the stack with one hand and poured the lemonade with the other. As he slid the cup towards Tack, Tack found that he could almost feel Umasi’s eyes narrowing behind the black barrier of his sunglasses. Still unsure of what Umasi’s reaction would be, Tack raised the cup to his lips and tried to drink, finding that out of nervousness he could only wet his lips. A slow smile stretched across Umasi’s face.

  “It’s been a while, Tack,” he said, with a trace of amusement in his voice.

  Relief spread through Tack’s body. “Yeah.”

  “You’ve certainly come a long way,” Umasi observed. “An assassin of the Truancy now, I believe?”

  Tack wasn’t sure how Umasi knew about what he’d been doing, but somehow he wasn’t surprised to find that he did. Tack swallowed, trying to figure out how to answer. Ever since he joined the Truancy, Tack had been wondering why he did what he did, but always an answer eluded him. Perhaps there simply was none.

  “There come times in our lives when we do things that we don’t understand,” Umasi said suddenly. “We confuse ourselves, we might even logically oppose our impulses, and yet we act on them anyway.”

  Tack jerked up, suddenly realizing that his head had been bowed for the past few minutes, the lemonade forgotten. Umasi held up a hand, silencing him before he could speak.

  “There are some things that we feel that we absolutely must do,” Umasi said, leaning forward. “We might know that they’re wrong, or pointless, or gravely punishable, and yet we do them anyway. These actions are not born of anger or emotion—we are perfectly sober. It’s rather inexplicable. When the time comes, we can’t stop ourselves, and so we cannot blame ourselves.”

  Tack found himself speechless, realizing why he’d returned. Umasi understood Tack better than he did himself.

  “Zyid killed my sister,” Tack whispered. “I swore to avenge her, but … I feel like I can’t. I … sympathize with the Truancy, and Zyid is its heart and soul. Should I just give up and walk away? Leave the Truancy?”

  “You swore to kill Zyid, but you feel that you can’t?” Umasi repeated.

  “Yes.” Tack nodded.

  Umasi leaned back in his chair, and seemed lost in thought. Tack took a sip of lemonade. It tasted the same way it always had, but now seemed blander, somehow, because of it.

  “Your devotion to your sibling is admirable. I envy you for it,” Umasi said finally, scrutinizing Tack more closely than ever. “Whatever you choose to do now, you won’t accomplish it by running away from the Truancy, to which you now seem attached. Fleeing and leaving both your promise and the Truancy behind will tear you apart worse than anything you’re doing now.”

  “So then…”

  “You must end it as a Truant, one way or another,” Umasi finished, pouring himself a cup of lemonade.

  Tack took another sip from his own drink and pursed his lips. It was funny, Tack thought as he drank. He had never paid so much attention to the sourness of lemonade.

  “You know what they say to do if life gives you lemons, right?” Umasi mused suddenly, glancing at the glass jug.

  Tack found himself laughing at that, choking on his drink. As Tack coughed lemonade up his nose, Umasi reached out and slipped the bill into his pocket. Suddenly Umasi froze, then swung his head towards Tack.

  “Someone is coming,” whispered Umasi, who could now hear the distant echo of approaching footsteps. “I believe it is Zyid. It would be best if you aren’t visible when he arrives.”

  “Zyid?” Tack blurted, sitting up in panic.

  “Yes, I told you that we were acquainted,” Umasi said casually. “Don’t worry, Tack,” he added, seeing the look on Tack’s face. “You have nothing to fear from our conversing. Trust me. Now quickly, hide.”

  With no other options, Tack turned and darted as silently as he could over to an old Dumpster left in an alley. He crouched behind it just as Zyid rounded the corner, approaching Umasi’s stand. Soon after, Tack heard the murmur of voices. He couldn’t help but peer out from behind the Dumpster to watch, but to his annoyance he couldn’t hear what was being said.

  Zyid and Umasi seemed to be having an animated conversation. Now that they stood side by side, Tack for the first time realized just how much the two resembled each other. Before he could ponder that, however, Tack felt a sudden jolt of confusion as he realized that Zyid held a scabbard in his hand, though one already rested at his side. Tack rubbed his eyes and looked again; there was no mistake: Zyid was carrying two separate swords. Tack’s head was spinning; if the Truant leader always had two, why couldn’t he have given one to Noni, when she had
wanted it so much?

  Then Tack saw Zyid hold the sword out, offering it to Umasi, and Tack somehow understood that Zyid had saved the sword for just this purpose. In response, Umasi said something that obviously annoyed Zyid, and Zyid withdrew his arm, letting the second sword rest limply at his side. The two exchanged some more words, and then Zyid turned to leave, a look of unmistakable disappointment on his face. Tack shifted his gaze to Umasi, who now seemed to be more expressionless than ever before.

  Tack pondered what he’d just seen. Zyid had come to give a sword to Umasi, who had refused it, and Zyid had left. Apparently Umasi and Zyid had a closer relationship than he’d realized, but even before Tack could worry about what that implied, he remembered what Umasi had said.

  Don’t worry, Tack. You have nothing to fear from our conversing.

  Tack believed him.

  Trust me.

  Tack did.

  You must end it as a Truant.

  And Tack would, for their cause, though not their leader, had become his own.

  PART III

  TRUANT

  20

  A TREACHEROUS THRESHOLD

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Are there people still in there?”

  “This guy’s not dead; somebody help!”

  “Water, we need water!”

  “Someone get Zyid!”

  At first Tack didn’t pay the shouts and screams much attention as he approached The Bar, but as he slowly realized that these were not the usual outcries of mirth, a sudden dread gripped his gut. Breaking into a run, Tack rounded the corner and froze, transfixed upon the nightmarish sight that greeted his eyes. His right hand unconsciously clenched tightly upon a red rose, and Tack ignored the pain as one of the thorns pierced his skin.

  All he could see was fire. A mocking, dancing, laughing fire that engulfed The Bar and was spreading eagerly to neighboring buildings. A flickering sickly orange glow cut through the dimming dusk, casting long, shifting shadows down the street. Shards of glass and brick were strewn across the sidewalk as if they had been blown from the building by some great force. Bodies lay writhing and burning on the ground, and as Tack took a deep breath, the horrifyingly familiar stench of burning flesh filled his nostrils.