Baccano! - Volume 6 - Chapter Ep

LINKING CHAPTER

RAIN AND A LETTER AND SCISSORS AND LOVE AND…

There is such a thing as a shattering moment.

Depending on the properties of the impact, even diamonds can shatter easily.

The instant when something hard breaks is truly gratifying.

And when something comes tumbling down, it always happens fast.

The more time something has spent building up, the more spectacularly—and ephemerally—it crumbles under its own weight. That’s the way of the world.

That’s exactly why I don’t accumulate any more than I have to. I don’t even want it.

I just wanted a place where I belonged, that’s all. A modest foundation on which I could build up my necessary minimum of happiness.

That’s why I’m here right now.

Tim, who was sitting on a set of stone steps near the entrance to Central Park, gazed up at the dark, lowering sky, lost in thought.

Adele and the other Larva members were sitting at short distances from one another, taking a brief rest.

Technically, they should already have been making their next move, but…too many unexpected things had happened. Clicking his tongue softly, Tim reviewed the various factors that had destroyed his plan.

All I want is the bare minimum, and I could’ve sworn I hadn’t built up much.

However, in the space of this half day, all sorts of things had started to crumble inside him.

The first bad omen had been the couple who’d called the resurrection act a magic trick. At the end, when that ear had regenerated—had that been some sort of mistake, or were they immortals as well? He’d need to check.

Then there was the girl who’d suddenly slashed at them with her knives. He was sure he recognized her from somewhere, but he couldn’t remember where.

And the woman from the Gandor Family who’d brandished those Japanese swords at absolutely everybody. She’d been pretty wacko, but as long as Adele was there, she wasn’t likely to be a problem.

And then…that gangster with the sharp eyes and the mysterious power.

“…Man… And Dallas ran off, so we have to hunt for him, too.”

Once they’d gotten out of the smoke screen, they’d realized Dallas wasn’t there. He’d probably woken up during that final uproar. All they knew was that, when they’d noticed he wasn’t with them and had gone back, he was already nowhere to be seen.

That said… The thing that had destroyed something inside him was nothing so trivial.

An entity that threatened something more fundamental, his very existence, had most definitely been there.

Even though he’d changed everything about himself so that nobody would recognize him…

He’d discarded his face, his way of speaking, his style, his strength, everything, and had acquired new ones.

There probably wasn’t anyone who would look at him now and remember his past self.

Tim had been convinced of this, and it was no exaggeration to say he’d been living in order to ensure it.

As a matter of fact, that man didn’t seem to have recognized him, either.

However…although he’d changed absolutely everything, the other man hadn’t changed at all.

Even though he’d been sure he’d gotten rid of his past, his name, and everything else, he could still remember those squinty, good-natured eyes.

That easygoing voice that failed to read the atmosphere, the sharpness of the scissors he’d held— All of that was just the way it had been when he was a boy.

When he thought back over the incident at the mansion, the only thing he remembered vividly was Tick’s face.

Tim—Tock Jefferson—remembered the face of the older brother he’d just seen for the first time in eight years.

“Why, oh why…was my brother there, hmm?”

An unexpected reunion with the past he’d thrown away.

As if to provide a visual for Tim’s mind, which had begun to waver in complicated ways…

As he looked up at the sky, cold raindrops started falling quietly onto his cheeks.

As the sound of rain began to echo around them, one of his subordinates walked up to him. This particular companion had been moving separately from Tim and the others and hadn’t been with them earlier.

“Tim.”

“What is it?”

“We’ve made contact. It sounds as if Christopher’s group will meet up with us this evening.”

At the mention of that name, Tim scowled openly.

“Christopher? Did you say Christopher?!”

Unusually, there was anger in his tone, and the subordinate looked away uncomfortably.

“Why is he coming?! Do you have any idea what’s going to happen if a guy that dangerous gets involved in this?”

“Orders from Master Huey.”

“……!”

Orders from an individual who was supposedly in police custody.

It sounded impossible, but at his subordinate’s words, although he clicked his tongue, Tim accepted the situation.

“Tch… So those psychos are coming, huh? Frankly, I’d rather not team up with them…”

“There’s no help for that. Their Lamia group is sort of the core of our Larva.”

Adele must have been listening in on their discussion; she’d been cleaning her spear, but she joined the conversation, looking vaguely happy.

“U-um… You mean Christopher and the others are coming?”

“…Yeah.”

“Oh, good… Then I’ll be able to wreak as much havoc as I want?”

Adele’s voice was more cheerful than usual, and Tim shook his head, looking down.

“…God, those Lamia guys… Adele’s the easiest one to deal with, and even she’s like this.”

Wiping off the rain that trickled down his cheeks with his hand, Tim quietly looked back up at the sky.

Thinking of his brother, of the companions they’d be meeting that afternoon, and of the “job” they’d been given, he muttered, as if trying to distract himself:

“The rain… It looks like it’s really going to pour.”

“It’s started coming down.”

Gazing at the droplets falling outside the window, Firo muttered to himself, seeming a little restless:

“I hope Ennis and company aren’t getting wet…”

He sounded a bit uneasy, and Maiza spoke up, teasing him.

“Are you worried about them? Not just Ennis, but about Isaac and Miria?”

“…‘And company’ was Ronny.”

“Have you thought of a proper apology?”

“Just lemme alone, all right?”

Sulking to hide his embarrassment, Firo went over to the restaurant window and looked outside.

Up until last year, the window had been too small to really look through, but with the Prohibition Act in the process of being repealed, they’d done some large-scale remodeling to make the place feel more open.

Standing in front of a glass pane that was bigger than he was, Firo looked out at the rainy streetscape of Little Italy, and—

An eerie sensation ran down his spine.

Something in what he was seeing seemed very wrong.

“……?”

Searching for the source of the feeling, Firo examined the scene outside the window carefully.

Then he spotted a lone man on the other side of the street.

The moment he locked eyes with the man, Firo realized what was wrong.

The guy was young, an obvious thug, and he was standing in the rain without an umbrella, looking his way.

He was clearly glaring into the restaurant—no, at Firo himself—and his eyes were steady and focused.

In other words, the strange thing was that his look held so much murder and hatred that it was visible even at a distance.

“What’s that…?”

Feeling unsettled, Firo strained his eyes, trying to identify the man.

His face looked vaguely familiar.

“Did I run into him somewhere before…?”

Due to his line of work, Firo made enemies in all sorts of places, but it was rare for anyone to turn such a clear intent to kill on him.

He tried to get a better look at his face, but the guy on the street seemed to have realized he was looking his way. He turned and, getting wet in the rain, strode rapidly into the crowd and disappeared.

“What the heck was that…?”

Still perplexed, Firo gazed out the window. Then, as if he’d given up, he went back to his seat at the counter.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

Even as he smiled and gave that answer, he was desperately trying to remember the man’s face.

Who was he?

As he was sipping at a fresh cup of coffee and retracing his memories, Seina, the woman who ran the honey shop in the front, called to him.

“Firo, somebody left this on the shop counter.”

“? What is it?”

The envelope in Seina’s hand had the words To Firo Prochainezo written on it in mechanical-looking letters, and nothing else.

“What’s this…?”

Looking dubious, he opened the letter and ran his eyes over the scrap of paper inside.

The next instant—

Firo’s expression changed dramatically, and flinging the paper away, he shot out of the restaurant like a bullet from a gun.

“Firo?! What’s the matter?! Firo!”

Maiza’s shout didn’t reach him, and in the blink of an eye, Firo was out of sight.

When he picked up the scrap of paper the boy had thrown away, the following words were written on it in obviously faked handwriting:

I have Ennis and Ronny Schiatto.

Just one line. The letter held no other words. There wasn’t anything else written on it: Not only was the sender’s name not there, it didn’t include any demands or threats.

“They’ve been kidnapped? Ennis and…Ronny?”

Mulling over the meaning of the words in his mind, Maiza muttered his conclusion in a matter-of-fact voice:

“…Not even possible.”

Seina, who saw the letter next, murmured, sounding a little disgusted:

“I bet he thinks he disguised his handwriting, but… Honestly. That Isaac. His writing’s as crummy as ever.”

I’ll kill ’em.

I’ll kill ’em all, every last one.

Make a monkey of me, will they? I’ll kill ’em.

What, I can’t beat anybody? I can’t do anything?

When that katana woman was slicing me up, I felt helpless.

But, dammit. I remembered.

Seeing that guy’s face brought it all back to me.

It was worth coming all the way to Little Italy.

Yeah, Firo Prochainezo. Seeing your face made me remember, loud and clear.

This is the urge to kill.

A definite will, made of nothing but the words I’ll kill you, boiled down and concentrated.

I’m into this now.

The rain’s beating down on me, but it doesn’t bother me a bit. It feels good.

I don’t care what I have to do—I’ll kill you. I’ll make you wish that you’d never been born, that you’d never existed.

I’ll slaughter every single bastard who made a fool of me…!

I’ll get that Tim guy and Adele first. I have to get rid of them before anybody else.

If I don’t, Eve’ll be in danger.

Yeah, I like Eve. I’ll protect her, no matter what it takes.

But listen, Eve. I’m dumb.

I can’t think of any other way to protect you.

The only way I can think of is to kill every enemy you’ve got.

With that self-centered resolution inside him, Dallas Genoard disappeared into the rain-soaked town.

“Man, what’s with this…?” In the street dominated by the sound of rain, Dallas grumbled quietly.

“In the end…this place ain’t much different from the bottom of the river.

“It’s pitch-black…and I can’t see a thing.”

As he bolted through the alleys of Little Italy, Firo was remembering the man’s face in detail.

It’s him—it’s that guy!

The letter that said Ennis had been kidnapped. Firo had decided that it must have been sent by the bloodthirsty man from a moment ago. And when he’d ransacked his memories for someone who’d have a connection to Ennis as well…he’d vividly recalled the face of the man outside the window.

Dallas! Why is he…?!

The guy who’d killed him and Ennis with a tommy gun once, three years ago.

And—the one who’d been targeted for retaliation by the Gandor Family and had supposedly been sent to the bottom of the Hudson.

Why was a guy who should have still been drowning standing here in town, on his own two feet?

Questions rose in his mind, but none of them mattered.

Firo Prochainezo just ran.

He’s got— He’s got Ennis…!

Without thinking, in order to save the girl he loved, he ran and ran.

The pouring rain that ruled the town hid the sound of his footsteps completely and turned the street’s colors dark and deep.

It was as if the town itself wanted the rain to keep falling forever.

“It’s coming down real hard.”

Inside an abandoned building that was fairly close to Grand Central Station…

The building was littered with rubble, as if it were in the process of being torn down, and Tick and Maria were sheltering from the rain there.

Tick was the same as always, but Maria had changed completely.

In a corner of the gray room, surrounded by concrete…

She was sitting on a pile of rubble, curled up small, her face buried in her knees.

She looked like a scolded child who’d hidden in her room.

Her wounds had been given first aid, but since they’d only been bound with cloth torn from their clothes, the dried bloodstains seemed even more pathetic.

“Are you okay?”

Tick walked over to her, looking worried, but Maria didn’t lift her head.

Instead, she spoke to her companion in a voice so faint that it was wholly unlike her.

“Listen…Tick.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry… I lied, I guess. I said I wouldn’t lose to anybody…”

“You didn’t lie. You didn’t lose to anybody, and you did save me, you know?”

It wasn’t lip service or pity. He was just saying what he felt.

The words didn’t seem to reach Maria, though. Her face was still lowered, and she was clenching her fists tightly in frustration.

“Why, why…? Even when Vino beat me, I didn’t feel like this!”

She knew why. With Vino, it had been because she’d been outmatched on every front: strength, skill, speed, spirit, everything.

However…Adele, the girl she’d fought today, had clearly been weaker and slower than she was. She’d said as much herself.

Even so, in the end, she’d lost.

Had it been due to the difference in weapons, or had there been some other reason? At this point, she didn’t know. As far as Maria was concerned, she didn’t even want to know.

Tick was listening to her silently, and Maria went on, as if she were talking to herself.

“Abuelito told me…! He said if I had skills to match my belief, I’d be able to cut anything! He said there was nothing I wouldn’t be able to cut! But…I couldn’t tell whether I was getting better. I wasn’t able to cut Abuelito at first, and I thought if I managed that, it would prove I’d grown, but he got sick and died… And so I was scared. I didn’t know if I was really strong enough to cut everything. So cutting was the only way I could believe in my own strength…”

As she spoke, it was obvious that the spirit was gradually draining out of her voice. Her usual artless expression was nowhere to be seen, and both her heart and her body had shrunk in on themselves, as if she were a frightened kitten.

“But I lost. You saw it too, didn’t you, Tick? You saw that spear girl steamroll me…”

Tick thought a little while before responding to Maria’s question.

“I’m sooorry. I bet it’s myyy fault.”

“…Huh?”

“See, I bet I didn’t believe enough. You know: We said if we both believed, we’d be all right for sure, remember? But the whole time, I wasn’t sure if I could do something like that.”

Tick had started to say something odd, and Maria raised her head very slightly to look at him.

“‘Believing’ doesn’t have a physical shape, and I couldn’t believe in it. I bet that made you a little weaker, Maria… I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. I’ll do my best to believe in you. If I do that, I just know it’ll be fine next time. You see?”

Tick’s words still held the peculiar innocence of childhood. After giving them a little thought, Maria looked down and shook her head.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I’m scared that if I lose to that woman again, I might not be able to believe in Murasámia anymore… The idea that I might blame the fact that I lost on my sword is just…terrifying…”

Gripping the sword she’d set down by her side, in order to distract herself from her unease, she began to confess her innermost feelings to Tick. She knew it was just temporary, fragile consolation, but it felt as if her heart would break if she didn’t do it.

“These swords are all I’ve got. They’re all I am… If I deny them, it feels like I’ll lose my past and my pride and my convictions and my soul, everything—and it’s scary, amigo…”

The word she’d added at the end made it sound as if she was looking for help from a friend.

Tick didn’t deal with her gently, and he didn’t push her away sternly, either. He only said what he felt, quietly.

“Remember what I told you? I only believe in things that have a shape and can break.”

“……”

“So I don’t believe in them. I mean, I haven’t seen those things break yet. Your pride or your soul, any of it. But you’re you, Maria. I’ve never thought you weren’t.”

The words didn’t hold any kind of answer, but Maria smiled just a little, then murmured briefly to Tick:

“You’re a nice guy, amigo.”

Then she lowered her head again and fell into a quiet sleep, beginning to let her fatigue heal itself.

Without checking to see whether she was awake, Tick murmured, as if he was talking to himself:

“This has gotten really complicated.”

The view from the entrance of the abandoned building had been dyed the color of the rain, and Tick watched it all alone, lost in thought.

“When threads get all snarled together, the fastest way to undo them is to just cut them apart… If there were somebody, somebody with power sharp enough to cut through that solid knot…”

In the midst of the sound of the rain that filtered in from outside, Tick stood by the huddled Maria, holding still.

After a while, he took a pair of scissors from his belt, held them up, and slowly opened and closed the blades.

It was as if he was trying to cut something he couldn’t see.

Snick. The sound was rather lonely, and it dissolved easily into the sound of the pouring rain.

Even so… Wordlessly, Tick kept snipping the blades in midair.

Snip, snipSnick-snip 

SnicketySnip

“…So?”

A man’s voice echoed from the depths of a gloomy room.

The thuggish guy who was standing in the doorway answered him, looking back into the darkness, his face tense.

“Well, uh, so… For now, Jacuzzi and the rest are hiding in an abandoned factory down by the river… A-anyway, that Ronny guy is a real nasty-looking customer! If you aren’t there, there’s no way we’re gonna be able to negotiate with him on equal terms!”

The thug, one of Jacuzzi’s friends, was briefly going over what had happened to them.

“C’mon, I’m begging you! If you’re there, it’ll be like having a hundred more guys on our side!”

“A hundred million more guys.”

Responding in a way that might have been either serious or a joke, the man in the shadows slowly got to his feet.

“Well, I don’t have any particular obligation to you people, but…it’s for my precious, precious fiancée. Sure, I’ll go.”

“Really?!”

“By the way—how’s Chané?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. There were some other weirdos besides the guy from the Martillos, and she got into it with one of ’em, and her face got a little scratched…”

The next moment—the presence that had been deep in the room was abruptly right in front of the hoodlum.

“Is she okay? Is Chané okay?”

The next thing he knew, the punk had been hauled up by his shirtfront, and his answer sounded strangled.

“Sh-she’s fine—she’s just great!”

“She is, huh…? Well, good!”

The man abruptly let the thug go, watching him hit the floor out of the corner of his eye as he spoke.

“No, hang on. It’s not good after all.”

He thought, quietly, covering his mouth with a hand and tapping the tip of his nose with his index finger.

“Chané chose to live with me. She promised to become part of my world, to share a world with me.”

As he said something strange, the man’s eyes gradually narrowed.

“I can’t let them get away with that. You said those ‘enemies’ hurt Chané’s face? That’s the same thing as hurting my world. The same as hurting me.”

Even as he spoke, the man—who was feeling an incredibly roundabout anger at the fact that his girl had been wounded—was already starting to change clothes in preparation for going out.

“And actually, I’m not about to forgive anyone who hurts a woman’s face. That guy’s not fit to be called a man.”

“Uh, no, the one who did it was a woman, too.”

“…I’m a firm believer in gender equality!”

“You make no sense!!”

Ignoring the bewildered guy, the man finished getting ready to leave. Then, his expression vibrant, he went on with what he’d been saying earlier.

“All right, let’s ring the opening bell. The show is me, the lead actor is also me, and the heroine is Chané.”

His tone was joking, but his eyes were filled with cold fire.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

And so—

One of New York’s most dangerous denizens began quietly slipping through the sound of the rain…

…in order to burn all the intricately tangled threads of the incident and return them to ash.

The man’s name was Felix Walken.

His former name was Claire Stanfield.

However, those who knew him well referred to him by other names. Some said them with awe and respect, while others spoke them through tears of terror and despair.

“Vino,” or…“the Rail Tracer.”

The raindrops kept falling, showing no sign of stopping.

As if they meant to sink the whole town beneath the sound of rain.

The drizzle gradually became a downpour, acting as an omen of the coming storm.

The rain didn’t stop. It enveloped both the people and the streets in dark colors.

Harder and harder—

—as if to slash the whole town apart…

To be continued