Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [134]
Just then, soft hands reached out and picked Wataru up from the ground. He looked and saw that the arms were covered with pure white fur—with stripes the color of milk.
He looked up to see the face of a cat, white with brown stripes, with large blue-gray eyes, staring at Wataru.
“Are you okay?” the cat asked. Tiny silver whiskers grew from its pink nose. Its voice was unmistakably feminine. It moved like a girl too—like one of his classmates back in the real world.
“Stay away from him, you! This boy is a murderer!” the innkeeper barked as he yanked Wataru to his feet. The cat-girl backed away trembling. Her eyes never left Wataru’s.
She had the face of a cat, but she was beautiful. She stood like a human, and was wearing something like a short-skirted jumpsuit. Kitkin, I wonder? She looked as frightened as Wataru felt, like she might start crying at any time.
She turned around and walked back into the crowd, glancing back at Wataru as she left. Her slender tail wrapped itself around her waist, and she crisscrossed her arms in front of her chest. Just then, Wataru saw her mouth move. She was saying something, and to Wataru’s eyes it looked like “I’m sorry…”
“Look forward! Walk!”
Something slammed Wataru on the head, and he blacked out.
When he came to, he was in a room. It was smaller, but sturdier, than the one he had stayed in at the lodge. He was tied to a thick wooden post with shackles on his hands. The chain was also fastened to his feet.
His cheek stung. His jaw hurt. His spine sagged. One of his eyes seemed to be swollen.
“You’re awake,” said a woman’s voice from directly behind him. The tip of a bright red boot slid under his chin and lifted his face. “Well? Beginning to regret what you’ve done?”
It was an ankha woman, with short, glossy black hair and fierce eyes. A cigarette dangled from her cruel lips. She was tall, and she was also quite attractive. She wore a shiny black leather vest, short trousers, spiked pads on her knees, and a red leather armband on one arm.
“What’s the matter? Hope he didn’t hurt you too bad,” she said with a guttural laugh. The woman slowly walked around until she was standing in front of Wataru. She was dragging something behind her on the ground that licked at the heel of her boot. Wataru blinked and looked at it again to find it was a whip of black leather.
“Well, well,” the woman said, chewing on her cigarette. “I’m Kutz, head of this branch. Of course, you probably already knew that. It takes some nerve to cause trouble in town on Kutz the Rosethorn’s watch. I admit, I’m impressed.”
In the back of the room, a man laughed. He had the face of a tiger, and he was wearing glasses.
“I haven’t done anything,” Wataru said. The act of talking made his mouth ache. “I haven’t stolen anything, I haven’t hurt anyone.”
Kutz guffawed. “You hear that, Trone?” She said to the tiger-faced man sitting nearby.
The tiger-man stood and walked over to where he could get a better view of Wataru. He was wearing a short leather kilt like Kee Keema had worn, with a large leather strap crossing over his chest. A sword was in the sheath on his back.
“Better for you to admit to your crimes,” the tiger-man said. “You cut the throat of the man next to you at the lodge, and stole his money. We know you were fighting with him the night before, and we know you needed money for your journey. The innkeeper told us everything.”
So it was the drunk who had been killed. Wataru grew even more frightened. The reality of the situation pressed in on him.
“It’s true, I was looking for work, and I did get mad at that drunk guy. But I didn’t kill him. Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”
“Well, for one thing, you’re covered in blood,” Kutz said plainly, tossing her stubby cigarette like a dart across the room. The cigarette disappeared into a bucket in the corner and went out with a fizzle.
“But I don’t remember doing anything!” Wataru said, shaking. The shackles binding him rattled in distress. “I only got here, to Gasara, yesterday