Baccano! - Volume 14 - Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

THE LONELY WORLD

I’ve heard that my mother was the one who named me Chané.

I’ve never even seen her face, but this name is the one connection we have, the only sense that I ever had a mother at all.

While I’ve never longed to meet her, this name is precious to me.

…Because it’s the name my father calls me by.

It’s the word that proves the connection between us.

I’m grateful.

I was happy just to have Father call my name. Receiving his attention made me so glad.

After all, for me, nothing besides Father ever existed.

That’s still true.

There is nothing in my world besides Father. I don’t need anyone else.

I was happy enough in that closed world.

And yet…that man easily broke a hole in my shell and climbed through.

Just like the figure in the nursery tales my father read to me when I was small.

Less like a prince on a white horse than a wicked magician who pulls off any feat, defying all common sense.

January 1932 New York

Prohibition.

Some claim it’s the word that best symbolizes New York during this era.

Today, when people hear the word Prohibition, most of them don’t think of the political role that particular law played or the faces of the politicians who instituted it; instead, they most likely visualize the specific images of mafia, crime—or Al Capone.

Something people wanted was banned to discourage corruption—but as a result, what was born in place of that corruption was a more strictly organized criminal system.

Due to the Great Depression, which began in 1929, the economic situation steadily grew worse, while vast networks for illegal bootleg liquor were at work underground.

Speakeasies were everywhere, and so was the bloodshed over their profits.

At the same time, culture in America was beginning to truly flourish.

As the talkies flourished, numerous musical films were made, and they became a leading example of the entertainment provided directly to a population that had been compelled to go dry.

Another hugely popular genre, along with musicals, comprised films that depicted the underbelly of society, works like Little Caesar and The Public Enemy.

Among certain groups, the gangsters who provided them with liquor became heroes who took the place of an unreliable government.

In the underbelly of Depression society, the gold coins exchanged in the speakeasies shone brightest—

And the gangsters who should technically never have taken center stage in society were double-cast as enemies and heroes for the people.

Society’s surface and underground connected in a Möbius strip surrounding the general public.

This was the era the young woman Chané Laforet lived in.

In New York, the light and shadow that came and went all across America mingled in a particularly complex way.

And on one of its streets, Chané Laforet was standing in the middle of a crowd. And she could do little more than that.

The street, lined with government buildings and offices, was teeming with crowds several times busier than usual.

Rumor had it this man Huey Laforet had planned a large-scale act of terror against the government and shaken up the whole world, and a fearless, inquisitive crowd had gathered to catch a glimpse of him as he was transported under guard.

He was also Chané’s father, and she was lurking quietly in that crowd to save him.

As if to hide the painful-looking bandages on her left shoulder, she wore a thin coat over her black dress—with several knives concealed inside.

It was only a few days after the incident on the transcontinental express, the Flying Pussyfoot.

The Lemures had hijacked a train and demanded the release of their leader, Huey Laforet. She had been at the center of that plan, and she’d invested herself fully in it, prepared to throw her life away in order to rescue her father.

However, the murdering white suits and a variety of other elements had complicated the operation, and the plan had failed. She’d lost all her companions, too. Or to be more precise, it had become clear that they’d never been her companions in the first place.

She’d known that beforehand. Chané hadn’t trusted them, either. After all, she had been planning to use them, too.

No amount of betrayals could upset her.

She didn’t trust others to begin with, and she was well aware her father saw her only as a guinea pig. With regard to the former, no one placed their trust in her, either, so fair was fair. Regarding the latter, she didn’t mind if it meant she could be useful to her father as his lab animal.

But all that aside, she’d believed that Goose and the others’ “organization” would be power she could use in order to save her father. Now, she was the only one among the group in black from the train who she was certain hadn’t been arrested or killed. There were rumors that a few members were still on the run, but she’d decided a rendezvous was out of the question.

I knew it. I’ll just have to do this on my own.

She no longer had anything but herself to believe in, and yet not only did she not give up, she strengthened her resolve to retake her father by force.

The incident had delayed the suspect’s transportation, but it was rescheduled in no time. A crowd had filled the street regardless; there was no telling where they’d heard the rumors.

Such whispers had reached her as well, naturally, and she’d raced to the spot as if this was her last chance.

She’d come here alone, prepared to strike down every police officer there.

The moment her father appeared, about to climb into the patrol wagon, she snatched a knife from her waist and prepared to launch herself into a run and cut down the policeman in front of her—

—but just then, her father’s lips moved.

It was as if he knew she was watching him, and his expression was filled with a tranquil confidence.

He mouthed a brief message to her:

<Don’t worry.>

She wasn’t a perfect lip-reader, so she wasn’t certain whether that had really been what he’d said.

The one thing she was sure of was that her father wasn’t the slightest bit worried about what might happen to him.

And when she hesitated before beginning her dash, she lost her very last chance.

Had she made the right choice?

On the avenue where the crowd had begun to thin, the silent girl kept wondering. She knew the results wouldn’t change no matter what answer she found, but still she kept asking: Had that really been the right move?

As she stood there anxiously, she heard rough breathing and incoming footsteps, and she turned around on reflex.

Of course both her hands held knives, and an unerring silver blade found the approaching individual’s neck.

“W-waaaaaaugh?! Ch-Chané, it’s me! Calm down, okay?!”

“…”

When she saw the distinctive tattoo on the other person’s face, Chané silently lowered her knives. For a moment, the surrounding bystanders had reacted with surprise as they wondered what was going on; however, seeming to decide it was best not to get involved, they found something else to look at and quickly walked away.

The boy’s life had been in danger a moment ago, and his panting turned to panicked gasps, but although he looked like he was about to cry, he smiled at Chané.

“Ah, geez, that startled me… D-don’t scare me like that.”

“…”

Even after she’d slipped her knives back into her coat, Chané stared at the boy with eyes that would have left anyone frozen in terror.

He had a facial tattoo of a sword, and the description alone would call to mind a tough, dangerous type. But given the way he acted, he seemed more likely to be the victim of one.

His tear-filled eyes didn’t hold an ounce of willpower, and they transformed that tattoo into ridiculous clown makeup.

Jacuzzi… Jacuzzi Splot.

As she gazed silently at the boy, Chané remembered his name.

He was a part of a group she’d been staying with for her time in New York.

She’d thrown herself off the train and into the river, and the boys who’d rescued her had been pulling some sort of cargo out of the water—a special freight from the same train she’d been on. The boys had belonged a gang of train robbers, and the one in front of her was the boss.

He seemed unreliable for his position, though, and a small question rose in Chané’s mind.

What is he doing here?

She hadn’t told anyone where she was going.

But if he was here, did it mean he’d known she was coming to save her father?

Why?

What did he intend to do?

As confusion rose in Chané’s heart, Jacuzzi relaxed a little and asked her a question.

“Are you okay? Oh, good… I just assumed you’d come out here to save that Huey person by yourself again…and…uh—dwaaaaaah?!”

Jacuzzi’s sentence turned into a scream.

The moment he’d brought up the word Huey, the blade Chané held had settled against his neck again.

“Why is the knife back?!”

Ignoring the question, Chané directed a piercing, combative glare at the young man.

What on earth was this boy plotting by getting involved with her father?

She wanted to grill him and get the full story, but she’d discarded her voice and had intentionally avoided learning sign language. As far as she was concerned, interrogating him using only her eyes and facial expressions was far too much of a hassle.

Should I give him a warning stab and run away?

Chané considered the idea for a moment, but she’d been lucky to find lodging with him, and discarding it seemed like a hassle as well, and she stopped herself just in time.

That said, she didn’t put her knife away. Instead, she watched the boy for a while, but—

“W-wait, Chané, please calm down!” a young woman screamed, running up to them.

When she saw the blond-haired girl, Chané regained her composure.

The girl’s face was badly scarred, and she wore both a black eye patch and glasses. She seemed to be about Jacuzzi’s age. Most people would find her suspicious, but when she spoke, she sounded normal.

That’s right… That woman knows what I really am.

When she’d encountered the white suit on top of the train, two figures had been crawling over the roof. One of them had been this girl with the eye patch.

When they’d met in Jacuzzi’s hospital room a few days earlier, she’d fumbled the dish she was holding and given a smile of obvious distress… And so it was fairly safe to assume that she knew who Chané was.

Performing the same analysis she’d made a few days ago, Chané observed the girl with expressionless eyes.

She’d been prepared to be reported to the police, but over the past few days, there had been no sign it would happen. If it had come to it, she was ready to take somebody hostage and make a run for it, but all her mental planning was for nothing.

…What is she thinking?

Jacuzzi was the heart of this delinquent group.

At this point, these two were the only delinquents Chané could see, but she knew there were between thirty and forty of them in all.

While they weren’t on the level of the mafia—they didn’t even have guns—the ability to command numbers like that would be quite enough power.

Besides, although she’d only been observing them for a few days, she concluded that despite their apparent carelessness, they were a rather efficient organization.

Chané didn’t know exactly what they’d done on the Flying Pussyfoot. At this point in time, she didn’t know it was Jacuzzi who’d defeated Goose, the Lemures’ leader, or that they’d been the ones who’d freed the hostages in the dining car.

Even so, she was convinced of the strength Jacuzzi’s group had.

This group probably had enough clout to do whatever it wanted with a small society, and Chané had found the fact that they’d accepted an outsider like herself so easily incomprehensible…

But more than anything, the fact that they weren’t interrogating her about her identity struck her as terribly unsettling.

They knew she was one of the terrorists in black, and yet they hadn’t handed her over to the police, or blamed her, or even questioned her about it. That said, they also didn’t seem to be sheltering her because they were afraid of reprisals.

The only ones who’d seemed openly scared of her when she’d first met them had been the girl with the eye patch, who said her name was Nice, and her companion Nick. Over these past few days, though, their fear had faded visibly.

Chané had lived among the paranoid Lemures until now, and she found the way this group dealt with her uncanny.

Are they also trying to use me…and Father?

It wasn’t clear how much they knew about Huey Laforet, but if they knew everything and were hiding her anyway, she couldn’t ignore the possibility that they might be trying to ingratiate themselves with her father through her.

If that happens, all I have to do is leave.

If they weren’t trying to harm her father, there was no need to go out of her way to kill them.

If she simply removed herself from the situation, everything would work out.

Telling herself this, Chané slipped the knife back into her coat.

“Oh… G-good. Glad you understand.” Jacuzzi heaved a big sigh and started to tear up.

Even so, Chané’s question hadn’t been resolved, and she kept her gaze fixed on the crying boy.

Nice had apparently picked up on Chané’s question; she hastily spoke in place of Jacuzzi as his vision swam through his tears.

“Oh, no, it’s… You know. Your name… It’s Chané Laforet, isn’t it? We thought the Huey in the newspapers might be a relative of yours… So we guessed we might find you here.”

When she heard Nice’s explanation, the tension in Chané’s heart eased a little.

She actually had written down her name for the boys who’d pulled her out of the river. After everything she’d been through, she had given her real name in her confusion. Now that she thought about it, she wondered whether she should have given a false name.

Chané regretted that slightly, but she thought better of it almost immediately.

My name is my connection to Father. I mustn’t lie about it.

Whether or not she knew about the restrictions her immortal father had regarding false names, Chané considered her own name extremely important. It was as if the name “Chané” was a contract that linked them.

The last name they shared, “Laforet,” she must never discard, even temporarily. As Chané reaffirmed her convictions, Nice’s expression softened a little.

“…You really were planning to save him, weren’t you?” she said, already convinced.

Chané didn’t deny it. She didn’t acknowledge it, either, but Nice took her lack of response as an affirmation.

And what if I did?

Chané couldn’t tell what the other girl was thinking, and she glared at Nice with mild irritation. On her unexpressive face, though, the anger didn’t exactly show.

With a gentle smile that didn’t suit her scarred face, Nice spoke to Chané, supporting Jacuzzi’s shoulders. “Don’t be reckless, please. If there’s anything we can help you with, do tell us, anytime.”

Jacuzzi smiled, too, wiping his tears away. “That’s right. You need to be careful about this stuff,” he said, starting to hobble away on a pair of crutches. Both his legs were still healing from gunshot wounds.

When Nice saw that, she scolded him lightly.

“That goes for you, too, Jacuzzi! You don’t even have permission to leave the hospital yet!”

“Oh, you know, you’re right… Oh no! I thought about it, and now the pain’s coming back. Waaaaaaugh?! The bandages! Blood! I’m bleeding…! I-it huuurts, I—I think I’m dying…!”

“That’s been there since yesterday. We’ll get your bandages changed right away, so let’s hurry and go back to Mr. Fred’s place, all right?”

The two of them were about to lose her, but Chané wasn’t completely satisfied yet.

She also hadn’t heard why the boy had come here.

Jacuzzi’s injuries consisted of several bullet wounds and burns.

Although she didn’t know about Goose and Jacuzzi’s fight to the death, Chané was certain that those wounds had been inflicted by her one-time companions, the Lemures. They’d betrayed her and shot her in the left shoulder as well, and Jacuzzi had probably been dragged into the incident. She’d heard he’d stolen cargo from a freight room, so he could have run into them then.

Chané had drawn her own conclusions, but it didn’t change the fact that this boy was severely injured.

She’d heard that his bones and internal organs had been miraculously spared, but he probably should have been confined to bed right now.

…And yet, he’d gone to the trouble of coming out here. Why?

Was he trying to stop her because, if she broke the law, she’d endanger their position as well?

If so, he was acting in rational self-defense. She had no intention of letting herself be stopped, but she could understand his reasons for trying.

As those thoughts ran through Chané’s mind, she gazed at the tattooed boy.

“…”

“Uh… Oh, right. You wanted to know why I’m here… I, um, it’s not because I want to get in your way or anything.”

Finding himself the target of her dubious gaze, Jacuzzi gave a rather uncomfortable smile.

“Erm… I mean, doing this stuff by yourself is dangerous, so…”

“…?”

“Well, you know… If you were going to rescue Huey, I thought it might be better if we helped…”

That wasn’t quite the answer she’d been expecting.

Help?

After pondering the meaning of that word for a while, Chané’s expression changed.

…That is to say, her eyebrows drew together slightly.

Why?

If they were trying to use her father through her, an attempt to put her in their debt would have made sense. And yet instead of bringing all his companions along, he had come by himself. It was a nearly suicidal move, and Nice’s presence wasn’t enough to change that. She looked around, wondering whether he had brought friends after all, but she didn’t see anyone in particular.

Chané questioned the boy’s sanity, ignoring her own plan to take on the police force all by herself. If he’d been like the red conductor she’d met on that train, or an immortal like her father, she would have understood. This boy, though, seemed weak enough that a grade-school kid from the slums could beat him to death. Nothing she’d seen from him had suggested he had any special power.

As multiple question marks began to surface in her mind, Jacuzzi looked up at her, a little enviously.

“Still…you’re incredible, Chané.”

“?”

The abrupt remark only added to her questions.

“You were planning to pick a fight with the police for somebody else’s sake, even if you had to do it all by yourself.”

He said it as an offhand comment, but it held a weighty significance for Chané.

By myself.

“All by yourself.”

The phrase Jacuzzi had used had been accurate.

No. You say it as if my solitude is optional.

I am all by myself. I have no other choice.

The suggestion that I won’t do it “if” I’m all alone…isn’t part of my reality. The idea of doing something “even if” I’m all by myself hadn’t ever occurred to me.

There is no one in this world except me and Father. I have no complaints about that.

Now that they’ve taken Father away, I’m alone.

I don’t have “companions.”

I don’t have family, either.

My only connection to my mother is the name she gave me; other than that, she’s a total stranger.

I don’t mind my solitude. I’m happy enough this way.

It was true of the Lemures, and it’s true of this town: Both are temporary places for me to stay.

That’s how it’s always been and always will be—

“If that’s the standard you’re using, then you’re tough, too, Jacuzzi. Making enemies of the Chicago mafia—anyone would say you’re out of your mind.”

“I-is that supposed to be a compliment?! I mean, I…I was only able to do that because of everyone else. L-like you, Nice…”

While Chané was busy reinforcing her worldview, Jacuzzi and Nice’s conversation was devolving into an exchange of sappy compliments.

“Ah-ha-ha. Thanks, Jacuzzi… Still, fighting the police—fighting the state—is rebellious even for you, don’t you think?”

“B-b-but, now that I think about it, all policemen have guns, don’t they? A-aww no, I just remembered how much it hurt when I got shot, and hon—honest—h-h-h-h-h—honestly, I—I-I-I-I… I’m scared, for real. Wh-wh-wh…when I think about that, I really am glad you changed your mind. Th-th-thanks, Chané. Ha-ha…ha-ha-ha…”

As Jacuzzi laughed, his voice was shaking, and his knees were quaking.

As she looked at the boy, who seemed liable to burst into tears again, Chané thought:

Apparently he really wasn’t thinking about protecting himself at all.

Is he saying he forgot about the danger to himself in order to help me?

I don’t understand.

He’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever met before.

When I was with the Lemures, every day was one lie after another.

They broadcast information I didn’t need, and I learned how to see through the lies others told.

However, I can’t sense any lies in what he says.

Why…?

There in the street, Chané puzzled over the boy’s character.

Around her, the usual hustle and bustle was beginning to return, but to her, the world still seemed dark and cold. Now that her father was gone, she could feel no warmth—

And so standing there, stunned, was all she could do.

Afternoon of that same day Fred’s hospital

I am one of the terrorists who attacked that train.

After Jacuzzi got back to the hospital, a sheet of notebook paper was thrust at him.

“…Huh?”

The one holding it out to him was the mysterious, voiceless girl who’d become his companion only a few days before.

She didn’t seem to know sign language, and he understood that she communicated only what truly needed to be said by writing it down—but this was the first time she’d said anything of her own accord.

And ultimately, Jacuzzi had absolutely no idea what she meant.

“Uh, well… I know that, but…”

Lying in his bed at the hospital, Jacuzzi looked back and forth between the note and Chané’s face.

The night his friends had brought her here, Nice and Nick had given him a very thorough briefing about her. Nick had been adamant that she was dangerous and they needed to run her out, but the ones who’d brought her from the river had objected mightily, and in the end, they’d decided to keep an eye on the situation.

“Wh-what about it?”

Had she realized he was an enemy of the black suits on the train, and chosen to take her revenge now? If so, here in bed, he was practically a slab of beef on the chopping block. The doctor wasn’t around, Nice had stepped out, and the only patients in the next room—an old guy who smelled like booze, a young dope addict–type with dark circles under his eyes, and a tall guy with badly injured legs—were far from healthy and couldn’t be called upon for help.

As those thoughts ran through Jacuzzi’s frightened mind, Chané held out a second note, which she seemed to have written in advance.

Why haven’t you reported me?

“Th-that’s not really something I can, uh…”

Jacuzzi was relieved to find that she wasn’t going to attack him, at least not right now, but he still wasn’t able to answer her question immediately.

As he considered how to respond, Chané held out yet another piece of paper.

Why have you accepted me when I was one of them?

“There’s more?!”

Accepting the pieces of paper she was handing him one after another, Jacuzzi read through them, flustered. Paying no heed, Chané forced yet another piece of notebook paper onto him.

“Y-you’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?!”

What was your objective in trying to help me save my father even if it put you in danger?

The notes were written in a careful hand, and he couldn’t sense anything of the girl’s knifelike aura in them. That did not change the intensity in her gaze as she stood next to him in reality, and confusion over the discrepancy made Jacuzzi start to tear up.

“Wh-why…? Um… When you say all that to me at once… I mean, write it all at once, I…”

Even as he fought back tears, Jacuzzi sat up and thought for a little while. When he spoke, it was with an awkward smile that seemed to say even he didn’t really understand.

“Well, I won’t say we were wrong for stopping the black suits, but…we stole cargo from it ourselves, so we can’t complain too much. Besides…I know it may be a strange thing to say, but maybe it’s because you aren’t like the others.”

“…?”

“You were trying to rescue your family, weren’t you? I think I know how you feel… Plus, I gotta spend some time with you before I can know whether or not you’re a good person.”

When she heard that, Chané picked up a pen from the bedside table and wrote on the notebook paper that sat beside it.

So…did you say you’d help me because you’d decided I was a “good person”?

“Um, I’m not smart enough to figure that out in just a few days… I’m sorry. We could spend the rest of our lives around each other, and I still may not know. But we’ll still be friends the whole time, so does it really matter?”

Jacuzzi gave a troubled smile. As Chané watched him, her eyes still seemed mystified, and she shoved the memo from a moment before at him again.

What was your objective in risking your safety to help me save my father?

“Erm… That’s a good question. I wasn’t thinking about it very hard, so I don’t know. Sorry.”

Jacuzzi had spoken honestly, and even though he felt a little tense, he went on.

“The thing is, we don’t know the city well enough to hide you from the police or anything yet… I thought we’d probably be okay as long as we didn’t tangle with the mafia, but it sounds like we’re not the only delinquent group around here these days.”

As he went on, sounding less than confident, Jacuzzi began to worry about himself, and his face grew gloomier and gloomier.

“Ugh, what do I do? People were saying the leader of this gang is really dangerous and he carries around some kinda tool all covered in blood. What happens if he comes after us? What if everyone gets hurt because I led us here…? Or worse? Actually, I bet I’d be the first to die. What do I do? Aaaaah…”

Jacuzzi, who’d started to tear up as he thought about what might happen, abruptly raised his head—

—but Chané was nowhere to be seen, and the door to the hospital room was creaking shut.

Only the sheets of notebook paper on his bedspread told him that what had happened hadn’t been a dream.

Still, even after the girl vanished, Jacuzzi kept sobbing, thinking pessimistically about his and his friends’ futures.

“Aaaah… Wait, I don’t have the money to pay for the hospital! Everyone was happy about how much they’d gotten for the explosives we stole from the train; I wonder if they set aside my share. Ngh, what’ll I do if the junkie in the next room over starts to rampage…? What if the black suit I knocked off the train is alive and comes back with the flamethrower? Are we gonna be okay in a new city…? I wonder what everybody’s thinking… Nnngh.”

The tearful voice of the hero who’d saved the train echoed in the hospital room, unheard by anyone else.

It was almost as if he was tormenting himself for his own weakness.

Does this mean they tried to save me without any selfish motives whatsoever?

No, that can’t be.

It’s probably a way to curry favor with my father through me.

Chané, who’d come face-to-face with a person she couldn’t understand, decided to think that way even if her instincts disagreed.

But…I can’t see any lies. That boy’s eyes were perfectly honest.

He’s the same.

The individual that surfaced in the girl’s mind was the magician she’d encountered on top of the train.

He’s like that man—the red phantom who appeared out of nowhere when I tried to kill that man in white on the roof.

He was wearing a conductor’s uniform soaked in his victims’ blood, and I couldn’t sense any lies in the words he said to me, either.

That letter I carved into the train’s roof… If he read that, he’s sure to look for me…and he’ll find me.

When he does, I’ll…

I’ll kill him. That redheaded conductor I met on top of the train has to die.

For Father’s sake.

Otherwise, I might start to live for someone other than him.