Baccano! - Volume 6 - Chapter Pr2

Prologue Eight Years Ago Only Child

September 1925 A certain small village in northern Mexico

Far to the south of New York City, in a little village just across the border from America…

The sun had already set, and darkness had begun to slip over the village and its environs.

Ordinarily, there would have been a beautiful starry sky, but that sky was covered with clouds that made the darkness uniform.

The village was surrounded by farms, and with the coming of night, the pastoral atmosphere was growing more hushed.

On the outskirts of the village stood a house that blended very well with that atmosphere.

That evening, in front of a stove whose fire had gone out, an old man and a child were talking. Dinner sat ready on a table beside them, but they hadn’t touched it; they were deep in conversation.

At first glance, it looked like a heartwarming scene, but in terms of this specific house on this specific day, it was a little different from the sort of thing you’d normally imagine.

“Listen to me, Maria. This isn’t a child’s toy.”

The old man, who had a splendid beard, was crouched down in front of the girl.

In the lamplight, the two of them seemed like family, but then again, they might have been complete strangers.

“This is a weapon, an object with a soul, but it’s also just a lump of iron.”

Holding a stick-shaped object up with his right hand, the old man smiled as if to admonish the girl in front of him.

In contrast to the man’s kind smile, the girl’s eyes were full of tears. She was listening to him intently.

“It’s not the sort of thing you can treat casually, like a plaything.”

“Hic… I’m sorry… Abuelito, I’m sorry… I, I, I didn’t know that would happen…”

Desperately, the girl—Maria—spoke in a strained, tearful voice.

“I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean to hurt you, Abuelito! And it just…! I didn’t think…hic…anything like, like…like that would happen!”

The man’s left arm was wrapped in layer upon layer of bandages.

And although those bandages should have been white, more than half their surface was covered in a dark-red stain.

The old man had been listening silently as Maria spoke, but now, dexterously, he flipped the stick-shaped thing he held in his right hand around and smacked it against his wounded left arm.

“Say, Maria. That’s your biggest mistake yet.”

“…Hic… Huh…?”

Curiously, the girl looked up at him through her tears, and the old man’s smile deepened.

It was more than just a smile. He was beaming: a pure, innocent expression, like a kid who’d just stumbled onto something fun.

“Ha-ha!”

With a laugh, the old man caught one end of the stick with his right hand. He clamped the object in his left elbow to stabilize it, and then, in a vigorous flourish, he drew the sticklike thing—a Japanese katana—from its sheath right in front of the girl.

It reflected the lamplight with excessive brightness, and for a moment, the girl’s eyes were dazzled. She squinted, and when she opened her eyes again…the tip of the long blade was trained on her, right between her eyes.

“Ah…”

The girl stared at the silver that hovered in front of her face, not understanding what had happened.

Its sharp tip was pointing straight at her, and she felt an intense wrongness in the space between her eyes.

However, what the girl’s eyes finally came to rest on wasn’t the blade’s tip. It was the congealed red spray near the middle of the sword.

This was the katana that she’d casually swung around a little while ago.

The katana that had cut her grandfather’s left arm when he stepped in to stop her.

The blood hadn’t been wiped off. It was drying on the silver blade. The chaotic splatter seemed to be accusing her. At the very least, that was what it felt like.

However…

“Listen to me, Maria. When you use this sword, you mustn’t ever say, ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you’! When you wield it—no, the moment you draw it—always think this: ‘I’ll slash you apart!’”

Grinning, the old man began saying things that were the polar opposite of what a normal guardian would probably say.

“Look, Maria! That’s my blood on this sword! Blood from my arm, from when you cut me a minute ago! Maria, listen. This is really something, you know that?”

“…?”

“I was trying to stop you in earnest, but you—you, who were dancing around, half playing—you slipped through my hands and got me!”

Shoulders hunching, the man chuckled, then wiped off the bloodstains with a cloth that had been hanging beside the chair. Naturally, since the sword had already been resheathed once, this wasn’t enough. Blood had dripped down inside the scabbard, and it would probably damage both the scabbard and the blade.

However, the old man didn’t seem the least bit concerned about that.

“I thought I’d be able to take a sword from a kid like you with no trouble at all, even if you were waving it around. But listen, you swung that sword in a way that went far beyond my expectations! A Japanese katana! A slip of a girl like you! Maybe it’s talent. I can’t even tell you how happy that makes me!”

The man returned the sword, which he’d only wiped down briefly with the cloth, to its scabbard as if nothing had happened.

Then, firmly, he held the sword out to the flustered girl.

“Listen, Maria. Japanese swords can only cut a few people in a row. They get smeared with blood and fat, and they lose their edge before you can say Jack Robinson.”

Looking grave, the old man leaned closer to the girl.

However, abruptly, his expression shifted into a grin, and he emphatically stated his conclusion:

“—That’s what they say, but I’m sure they’re lying!”

Tossing the katana to Maria, the old man bolted up out of his chair. Then, like a drunk in a tavern, he bellowed his thoughts at the ceiling.

“If you believe, and if you’ve got the skill and the strength, you can cut human flesh with a tree branch or a scrap of paper. There’s no way a katana can’t do something even wood or a metal pipe could do, just because it has a little blood or fat on it!”

His theory was ridiculous, but there wasn’t the slightest smell of liquor about the man. His face was red because he was excited, and he was currently 100 percent sober.

If he was drunk on anything, it was on himself as he spoke of his dreams.

“In your heart, tell yourself that the phrase ‘I can’t cut that’ is a lie. Believe, all the way! Do that, and you’ll be able to cut any number of people. You’ll be able to keep cutting. Ten people, a hundred, a thousand or ten thousand, everything that exists on the land and in the sky and the sea, except you—no, including you! You’ll be able to cut down absolutely all of humanity, including yourself!”

As he spun this abnormal pipe dream, the man kept his intense gaze fixed on empty space.

“And it isn’t just people, Maria. If you want to, you can cut absolutely anything! As long as you have skills to match your belief! That’s the sort of thing that katana is!”

The man happily spread his arms wide, then thrust both hands forward and smacked the girl’s shoulders where she sat.

“Try it, try it! Cut this, that, and everything, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut— Koff!”

Running out of breath, the man choked a little.

However, he recovered quickly and, grinning, kept repeating the same word, rhythmically:

“…Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut—cut everything!”

At the time, the girl didn’t really understand what the old man was saying.

However, under his intense eyes, at some point, her hands had clenched around the sword she held.

Her tears were already dry. Sadness, regret, and fear were all gone, and the only thing left was adoration for her grandfather’s impassioned words.

“Maria! There isn’t a single thing that Japanese katanas can’t cut! That’s true even if the thing has no shape! If you believe, you can cut anything! Even water, even air, even a vacuum, human souls, the bonds between people, pent-up resentment, even regrets and hopes—you can cut anything!”

After he’d yelled that much, the man exhaled heavily and sat back down.

“Listen, Maria. You have the right to take that sword.”

“…The right?”

“Your parents were skilled hitmen, but they gave in to the allure of guns, and they didn’t pick up that sword! As a result, your father and mother died. I cut them down with that katana!”

Viewed objectively, what the old man said might have been shocking. However, it didn’t seem to stir the girl’s feelings in any particular way, and she responded calmly.

“Uh-huh, I know! It was when I was still little, right? I don’t really remember it, but Abuelita told me all about it, lots and lots of times!”

“Yes, that’s right. Her story’s true. So you see, Maria. That sword was supposed to retire with my generation. But, Maria, when I saw you today, I changed my mind.”

Leaning far back in his chair, the old man spoke with a smile that seemed to say he was living the best moment of his life right now.

“When you saw that blood running from my arm, you got scared and started sobbing.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“I told you, don’t worry about that! What’s important is—your face.”

Pausing for just a moment, the old man grinned, showing his teeth.

“Maria, you know, when you were swinging that katana around and playing, even in the moment when you cut my arm, you looked really, truly happy! That, that is what’s important! All right, Maria. Take that sword, Murasámia—which has been handed down from person to person, without regard for family lines or teachers and students—and draw it!”

“…Okay!”

Obeying her grandfather, the girl drew the sword with the odd name. The sword left its sheath in a smooth motion that was so splendid it was hard to believe it had been drawn by a child’s short arms.

The next moment, the blade reflected the lamplight and illuminated the girl’s perfectly cloudless smile.

The old man gave an involuntary whistle, admiring the union of the girl and the blade from the bottom of his heart.

“Good, Maria! Once you draw that katana, don’t think about unnecessary stuff. Believe in cutting. Then enjoy slashing with all your heart and soul!”

“Okay! I will, Abuelito!”

No sooner had she yelled the words then the girl sprang out of her chair—

—and, with no hesitation, swung the sword at the old man in front of her.

“…Ha! Just as I thought! Maria, you’re like a fantastically, magnificently crazed angel!”

With a dinner fork from the table in his hand, the old man watched his granddaughter’s face cheerfully, delightedly.

The descending katana had been caught neatly in the tines of the fork, and the tip had stopped just before it reached the old man’s head.

“You had enough belief. You just aren’t skilled enough to cut me yet. Well, never mind; you can improve your skills starting now! Once you’ve improved, I’ll pick out another sword for you. After all, if you fight with two swords, you’ll be able to cut twice as much of all sorts of things!”

As her grandfather spouted his crazy theory, laughing, the girl lowered her head a little, her eyes wide. Her lips were slightly warped. Was it a smile, or was it frustration?

“Huh…? Why did I…just…?”

“Even you don’t know why you tried to cut me just now, do you? That’s fine! Once you draw, just cut! Cut everything! You can think about why you cut it afterward! You’re fine just like that. You and that katana shine brightest that way! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“Ah-ha!”

As if pulled along by the old man, who was laughing as if he’d gone nuts, Maria also began to laugh quietly.

Her expression was still childlike, but it held a stealthy, incredibly pure lunacy.

On seeing his granddaughter’s face, the old man—a hired killer—nodded, seeming satisfied.

“I’ll say it one more time, Maria. That’s no child’s toy.”

“That blade is your compañero—your partner.”

A few years later Somewhere in Manhattan

“Hey, what the hell…? What is this brat?!”

A big-city alley, shrouded in darkness.

In a place even the city lights barely reached, a lone man was screaming. Several people lay at his feet, their shapes perfectly still.

“What, huh?! What’s this; what the hell’s going on? Wh-what do you want, huh?”

Clouds covered the sky, and no moonlight reached the narrow street.

However, in the glow from the distant avenue: The man discovered that the figure in front of him was a young girl.

She held two blades, each reflecting the faint light.

As if catching the rhythm of that light, the girl, Maria, began to speak in a jaunty tone.

“Hi, amigo! I’m Maria. I’m a hired killer! Right now, I’m just starting to get famous! And, see, as a favor to this wacky young guy who believed in my skills and asked me to, I came here to kill you people!”

After introducing herself thoroughly, she began walking toward the man on soundless feet.

She stepped into the red blood that was flowing across the ground, but by virtue of the way she was moving, she didn’t make a single splash. Step by step, she was steadily closing the distance.

“And you’re the last one, amigo!”

“Y-you rotten brat! You better quit trying—”

The man immediately pulled out his gun, intending to put a bullet in his approaching adversary.

The next instant, the girl dropped into a low crouch, simultaneously swaying far to the right.

“—to screw with me!”

A gunshot.

At the same time, a sharp, metallic noise rang out.

The earsplitting sound seemed to surround the man—and the next thing he knew, the gun had been knocked out of his hand.

“Wha…?!”

The Japanese sword had come in much, much closer than he’d predicted and had struck the gun sharply just before he fired the bullet.

That’s nuts, the man thought, but just as he was about to say it, he remembered:

The girl had been fighting with two swords.

So he realized…

One sword had sent his gun flying.

In that case, where was the second one—?

Just as the man tried to check, the answer ran right through his throat.

There was a brief pause, and then bright blood gushed into the alley.

At some point, the girl had circled around behind the man, and the spray of her victim’s blood didn’t touch her. She was gazing quietly at a black lump on the ground.

It was the gun that she’d knocked out of the man’s hand a moment earlier. She watched it for a while, but once the dead man fell to the ground, she stepped over his back and started walking.

“Phooey… I guess I’m not good enough to cut a gun in two yet…”

After uttering a murmur that sounded sincerely disappointed, the girl disappeared without another sound into the urban darkness.

There was almost no viscera on her naked swords, and they gleamed quietly in the dim light that seeped in from the city.

Wavering, ghostlike…

As if everything about the girl’s heart, and the sharpness of her blades, were melting into the dark streets…