Truancy

by Isamu Fukui

  “Yeah,” Tack said, agreeing with the obvious.

  “This Edward has forced my hand,” Zyid declared. “We will have to end this war quickly, much more quickly than planned.”

  “Can we?” Tack asked, sitting up in surprise and wincing.

  “It’s risky, but possible,” Zyid said, shuffling through the papers. “We have to execute a series of strategic strikes on Enforcer targets, power stations, Educator facilities, and also incite a larger revolt by hijacking the City-wide loudspeaker system. We throw the City into chaos, and pick up the pieces when the dust settles.”

  “How could we pull something like that off?” Tack asked. “Half of the Truancy refuses to fight against students, and even if they didn’t, with Edward leading the other side we’d still probably lose.”

  “Yes, this Edward and his Student Militia does pose a problem.” Zyid frowned. “The Student Militia will have to be dissolved, and Edward must be killed.”

  “Can you kill Edward?” Tack asked, knowing that if the answer was “yes,” he would never be able to avenge Suzie. “Me?” Zyid mused. “Perhaps. I’m not sure. Why don’t you tell me?”

  “How would I know?” Tack said, taken aback.

  “You’ve fought him,” Zyid pointed out. “Noni didn’t tell me much, and I know nothing of what happened when you actually fought Edward.” Zyid turned to eye Tack. “Perhaps you should tell me.”

  Tack nodded, and began recounting his duel with Edward. Zyid listened, motionless. Tack got all the way up to the point where Edward had held his knife at his throat before Zyid interrupted.

  “How did you get away?” Zyid inquired.

  “Noni,” Tack said simply.

  “Ah.” Zyid nodded. “So, she fought him off while you fled?”

  “No.” Tack shook his head. “We both fought him together.”

  “And lost?” Zyid asked incredulously.

  “And lost,” Tack agreed grimly as he began to recount how it had happened.

  * * *

  Tack looked up into Edward’s venomously green eyes, staring death in the face. So, this was how he would die. He’d made his last stand; he’d fought as best he could. His only regret was that he’d never fulfill his promise to Suzie.

  “Hands off!”

  “What the—” Edward spun around, bringing his knife away from Tack’s neck.

  Noni barreled into Edward with tremendous force, knocking him off Tack and onto the floor behind him. Tack shakily rose to his feet, and stared as Noni furiously wrestled with Edward, struggling to restrain his knife arm.

  “N-Noni?” Tack sputtered in shock.

  “How about some help?” Noni demanded.

  Coming to his senses, Tack gripped his sword and lunged forward between the two burning shelves. Unfortunately, he chose to do so right when Edward had brought his feet up to kick Noni off him just like he had done to Tack before. A moment later, Noni was sent flying through the air right into Tack. Both Truants crumpled to the ground, and Edward rose to his feet.

  “So, female Truants do exist!” Edward breathed. “I was beginning to wonder.”

  Noni said nothing as she rolled off Tack and stood up, glaring menacingly at Edward, her icy eyes reflecting the flames. Tack followed suit, and Edward surveyed the two with interest.

  “There’s no way you can beat us both, Edward,” Tack challenged.

  “Of course there is, Truant.” Edward sneered. “Unless you’d care to surrender now.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Noni muttered.

  “Sorry, girlie, no chivalry today.” Edward laughed. “Don’t take me for a fool; I’m not afraid to hit girls.”

  “Good, because she’s not afraid to hit you,” Tack warned.

  “Oh, excellent, a feisty one,” Edward jeered. “Too bad she’s covered up that pretty face.”

  Somehow it was Tack, not Noni, who struck first, lashing out at Edward with his sword out of pure rage. Edward parried the powerful blow with his knife, and retaliated with a kick that sent Tack sprawling. Noni aimed a powerful punch at Edward’s exposed head, but Edward ducked and head butted Noni, knocking her backwards. Ignoring Tack, Edward lunged forward at Noni, slashing furiously at her waist.

  Noni leaned backwards to avoid the attack, then seized the opening and kicked at Edward’s stomach. Edward blocked the blow with his palm, then brought his knife behind his back to parry Tack’s sword, which had been swung at him. Edward then shoved her seized leg forward, knocking Noni off-balance. At the same time, he kicked backwards violently, catching Tack in the chest, sending the wounded Truant staggering backwards.

  Noni kicked up at Edward, who sidestepped and slashed downwards, cutting her across the knee. Noni didn’t scream, but leaped to her feet with surprising grace even as blood trickled down her leg. Tack lunged forward and arced his sword down at Edward’s back, but Edward likewise lunged forward, avoiding the blow and tackling Noni, violently punching her in the stomach before turning her around like a human shield against Tack’s attacks.

  Tack snarled in frustration, having barely stopped himself in time from slashing Noni’s back. Noni, though dazed by Edward’s blow, managed to slam her head into Edward’s forehead, forcing him to release his grip. Noni rolled aside onto the floor, gasping and coughing up blood. Now with a clear shot, Tack lunged forward again, aiming to stab Edward. Edward knocked the blow aside with his knife, then delivered a forceful punch to Tack’s stomach, knocking the wind out of the Truant.

  None of the three combatants had had the leisure to observe how the flames had grown, but by then nearly the entire library had succumbed to fire, the dry books serving to spread it quickly and efficiently. The fighters were now near the entrance of the library, and the entire building was heating up like an oven as the flames licked at the wallpaper and even the librarian’s desk.

  Mindful of the intensifying heat, Edward drove his knee up into Tack’s belly and twisted his hand until the ceramic sword clattered to the ground. Edward then brought his knife up to pierce Tack’s throat, hoping to end the fight before they all went up in flames. Before he could thrust, however, a strong arm gripped his steadily, and then bent it behind his back in a painful position. Growling in annoyance, Edward drove his head backwards to slam into Noni’s face. Her scarf slipped down to expose her face. Far from letting go, however, she seized his other arm and locked both behind his back.

  Seeing his opportunity, Tack drove his fist forward to punch Edward in his unprotected chest, and then his face. Tack felt a vicious satisfaction as his fists connected with Edward, but before he could land a third blow, Edward lifted his legs and violently kicked off of Tack, pushing himself backwards so that he fell on top of Noni. Edward instantly leaped to his feet as Tack staggered backwards, and snapped his foot to Noni’s neck, stepping down to crush her windpipe. Over the now-roaring flames, the sound of desperate gurgling filled the heated air.

  “My, what a hideous scar,” Edward commented, looking down at Noni’s exposed face. “I guess she’s not so pretty after all.”

  In a sudden fit of reckless fury, Tack seized a burning book from the librarian’s desk, heedless of the flames that bit at his hand. Hurling the book into the air, Tack sent it flying towards Edward. The book bounced off Edward, but not before setting his uniform alight. Roaring in outrage, Edward stepped off Noni and backed up, batting at his flaming uniform. Spotting a fire extinguisher near the entrance, Edward ran for the red cylinder and seized it, dousing himself thoroughly with the white foamy spray.

  Tack had picked up his sword and had half a mind to attack Edward that instant, but feeling the pains of his injuries, having seen what he was up against, and seeing Noni half-alive on the floor convinced him not to pursue the fight. Sheathing his sword, Tack helped Noni up from the ground and was immensely relieved when she slung an arm around his neck and gripped his shoulder firmly. Sliding his arm under her armpit, Tack supported her as they hobbled out of the doomed library and onto the streets.

/>   Tack guided Noni towards the nearest alley, looking back only once before they slipped into it. As he did, Tack was sure that he saw a weary but very much alive figure emerge from the library.

  * * *

  “He is more formidable than I thought,” Zyid mused, his back to Tack as he continued examining the papers on the table. “If we allow him to proceed unchecked for much longer, he may very well defeat us.”

  “Yeah,” Tack said, examining one of his colorful bruises. “So, do you think you can beat him?”

  “Like I said, Takan, it’s possible,” Zyid replied. “But by no means is it a sure thing. I do not wish to risk such a fight.”

  Tack was at once simultaneously relieved and disappointed to hear that. On the one hand, it meant that Zyid was mortal; Tack could stand a chance against him when the time came to kill him. On the other, it meant that the Truancy’s future was very grim indeed.

  “Isn’t it hopeless as long as Edward’s alive?” Tack said, voicing his fears.

  “Quite possibly,” Zyid affirmed, creasing his brow.

  “So, he has to be killed,” Tack pressed.

  “Yes, he does.” Zyid nodded.

  “Well, isn’t there anyone who can stop him?” Tack said in exasperation.

  Unexpectedly, Zyid froze, and then turned to look at Tack pensively. His eyes misted over for a moment, and then a strange look of sadness flitted across his face.

  “Yes, Takan,” Zyid said mournfully. “There is one.”

  24

  AT THE HANDS OF A PACIFIST

  The sun was high in the sky over District 19, bathing the City in bright daylight that managed to lighten even the stubbornly black asphalt, when the tranquil brightness was suddenly marred by a dark figure moving smoothly across the illuminated ground, casting a long shadow behind him.

  The figure moved with a purpose, marching across a street to approach a lemonade stand behind which waited another figure, this one observing the other serenely from behind opaque sunglasses. His persistent shadow trailing behind him, the dark figure drew up to the stand and unceremoniously dropped a sword down onto it. A pair of glinting sunglasses glanced downward at the sword, inspecting it for a moment before rising to look back up at the dark figure.

  “I thought I told you last time.” Umasi frowned, the light casting his features into shadow as he firmly pushed the sword away with one hand. “No thanks.”

  “Circumstances have changed since last time,” Zyid said grimly, squinting against the harsh sunlight that struck his eyes. “Have you been keeping up with the news?”

  Umasi folded his arms and sat motionless, though Zyid knew very well that he was being scrutinized by those hidden eyes.

  “No. I’ve decided that I don’t even want to know what unsavory things you’ve been up to,” Umasi said dryly. “I’ve been sticking to books lately.”

  Zyid frowned and looked distastefully at Umasi, who indeed seemed to have several piles of books resting around him. He couldn’t help feeling annoyed at Umasi for burying himself in books at such a crucial juncture.

  “I’ll cut to the point,” Zyid said brusquely. “Do you know a boy named Edward?”

  Umasi’s composure abruptly slipped. Very slowly, he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. As he did, his dark sunglasses slid down his nose, and for an instant Zyid was sure that he’d caught a glimpse of dark eyes widened in shock. Zyid inclined his head slightly, the only sign of his pleasure at having provoked a reaction.

  “What if I do?” Umasi said guardedly, carefully pushing his sunglasses back up to cover his eyes. “There are a lot of Edwards.”

  Zyid snorted, and in response plunged one hand into his black jacket and withdrew it clutching a folded newspaper. Zyid slammed the newspaper down onto the lemonade stand, watching imperiously as Umasi picked it up. Umasi unfolded the paper, and then stared at it from behind his sunglasses, his arms going rigid as he did.

  “A Student Militia?” Umasi said quietly. “Edward did this?”

  “This Edward is already responsible for dozens of deaths,” Zyid said harshly. “Students, Truants, and Enforcers alike. Hundreds more may die at his hands.”

  “Oh, this is no good,” Umasi murmured sadly.

  “Is he one of your little experiments?” Zyid demanded.

  Umasi sighed at Zyid’s choice of words and bent his head, his face cast into deeper shadow than ever. Zyid waited with rigid patience as Umasi hesitated to respond.

  “Yes. He was,” Umasi said finally.

  “Then he is your responsibility,” Zyid asserted.

  “He is my mistake,” Umasi admitted, looking back up at Zyid.

  “Then correct it,” Zyid demanded. “If you value life so much, he must be stopped, and quickly. Tonight we will attack his headquarters—a warehouse on the District 13 docks. It will be a distraction. You will have your chance.”

  “I can’t do that,” Umasi said unconvincingly. “You are capable of handling him. This is your war; he is your enemy. You should do it.”

  “You created him. You’re the one who must destroy him,” Zyid said firmly. “He took on Noni and Takan together; who’s to say that I’d fare any better? I seem to recall that it was you who bested me two years ago.”

  There was a heavy silence as Umasi pondered Zyid’s words. And then, with only the slightest hesitation, Umasi reached out to grasp the hilt of the sword and lift it up. Umasi raised the sword up to the sun, whose pale light reflected brilliantly off the white blade. Bringing the gleaming weapon down to his side, Umasi looked ruefully at Zyid’s shadow.

  “Congratulations, Brother,” Umasi said reproachfully. “You’ve turned me into a hypocrite.”

  “I’ll try not to lose sleep over it,” Zyid muttered, and spun around to leave as if Umasi’s very presence burned him.

  Umasi didn’t watch him go. Instead, he bent his head again and sat in silence, motionless in his seat behind the lemonade stand. He didn’t even notice that even as Zyid slipped out of sight, the bright skies were being steadily encroached upon by a growing cloud of gray. Umasi’s head remained bent for a long time, so that by the time he looked up again, the cloud had devoured the light and cast the City into shadow.

  Umasi got to his feet, and as the first tentative drops of rain began to dot the ground, he turned his head towards the glass jug of lemonade resting upon the stand. Without warning, he swung his arm through the air, and the jug flew from the table and crashed to the ground, shattering as it scattered glass and lemonade across the ground. With that, Umasi turned his back on the lemonade stand and strode off into the growing shadow, gripping the sword tightly in one hand.

  * * *

  “I don’t understand,” Tack said, gingerly rubbing a bruised spot as he stood before Zyid, trying to make sense of the Truancy leader’s orders.

  Zyid didn’t answer at first, but stretched leisurely as he glanced out the show window of the flower shop. Outside, the muted sun’s last rays had been vanquished, giving way to a pitch-black night accompanied by a steady patter of rain that poured down rhythmically, relentlessly showering the City. Water sloshed everywhere in sight, washing the streets and sweeping down the gutters in small streams. Wet trickles of water flowed down the show window itself, oddly distorting the dark world outside.

  “It’s very simple,” Zyid said finally, turning to look condescendingly at Tack. “I’ve raised fifty volunteers willing to fight against the Student Militia. I want you to lead them all in a frontal attack on their base.”

  “But you don’t want us to actually take their base,” Tack pointed out.

  “No, nor do I want you to overexert yourself, especially wounded as you are,” Zyid agreed, picking up his windbreaker and buttoning it around his neck. “Just keep them focused on you.”

  “But why?” Tack couldn’t help but ask.

  “Because this way, we spare the most children on both sides,” Zyid said, attaching his sheathed sword to his belt.

  “But what do we acco
mplish by just setting up camp in front of their headquarters?” Tack demanded.

  “What we’ll accomplish is going a long way towards ending this war,” Zyid said impatiently, turning to look at Tack with a strange gleam in his dark eyes. “Tonight, Edward will die.”

  “How do you know?” Tack asked, taken aback. “The bastard fights like a monster.”

  “He will die,” Zyid repeated simply, pulling the hood of the windbreaker over his head.

  “Is that where you’re going?” Tack asked, wondering if Zyid might get killed before Tack could get the chance to do it himself.

  “No, Takan, I’ll be helping Noni keep the Enforcers busy,” Zyid said, clapping Tack on the shoulder as he headed for the door. “You had better get going. The advance parties will already be setting up their attack positions. They await only your leadership.”

  And with that, Zyid swept out of the room, his black windbreaker swishing behind him, leaving Tack alone in the dark. Tack remained just as confused as ever, but quickly realized that there was nothing he could do but follow orders. Tack placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, and then pushed the door of the flower shop open, ignoring the aches and pains it cost him to do so. As he stepped out into the cool, solemn wetness, Tack felt the rain wash away his apprehension and replace it with the excited anticipation of battle.

  Tack flicked a wet strand of brown hair out of his eyes. Zyid had just been too sure of himself to doubt. Tack didn’t know how, but Edward would die that night.

  * * *

  Umasi ran gracefully through the streets, feeling his warm breath contrast harshly with the cold rain. Drops of water from his soaked hair trickled down his face, and his sunglasses were hopelessly fogged. Still, blind or no, he ran through the rain, his sneakers becoming increasingly soaked as they splashed into the puddles on the street, until they let out a soggy squish each time they touched the ground. Flecks of water sprayed behind him as Umasi ran, and he could feel his clothes grow heavy, clinging to his skin as they became soaked with water.