Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [207]
The gun fired again. Stay calm. Wataru let the sword do its work. The blade leapt in his hand again, knocking aside the bullet. The shot whizzed through the air and into the lake—a cold splash of water landed on his cheek.
“How many bullets do you have in that gun?” Wataru asked, slowly closing the distance between him and the hooded man. “Want to try firing them all and see what happens?”
The man growled and nimbly leapt astride his udai. Then, pointing the barrel of his gun at the rope attaching the harness on the udai to the cart, he fired.
Wataru watched the man move—everything seemed to be in slow motion, and there was a voice ringing in his head.
Wataru, use the Brave’s Sword.
It seemed like the voice was somehow coming from the sword—from the gemstone fixed to its hilt. The voice ran up Wataru’s fingers, up his arm, and echoed in his head.
Use the sword. Not only guns may fire bullets.
Without hesitating, Wataru lifted his Brave’s Sword and aimed for the man’s arm.
The sword moved again on its own. Swiftly the tip cut a cross in the air, then returned to the center of the cross. As the blade moved, Wataru recited the words he heard in his mind.
“Great Goddess, send the power of your holy spirit into the void!”
The gem on the hilt of the sword glowed. A white light shot from the tip of the blade, straight toward the man. The bullet of light impacted the man’s right shoulder. He screamed and fell to the ground.
The startled udai galloped off, nearly trampling the fallen rider in its haste. Wataru ran to the man. His cheeks burned with excitement and exertion. Who knew the Brave’s Sword could do this! Who knew it had such power!
The man lay on the ground, groaning, hand clapped over his wounded shoulder. His hood had slipped off in the fall, revealing his nose and unshaven chin.
“A Highlander with a mageblade…?” the man grunted, his voice tinged with bewilderment. “And a child! Who…who are you?!”
Wataru knelt by the man, hardly hearing his words. That chin. His nose. He had seen them before. They seem so familiar they looked like, like…
Impossible.
Wataru’s logical mind pushed away his instinctual understanding of what was going on, but it couldn’t stop the racing of his heart. His left hand slowly reached out toward the man’s hood. No, don’t take it off. You don’t want to see. You’ll regret it, said a little voice inside him. But he didn’t stop.
Wataru ripped off the hood.
The face was his father’s—the living image of Akira Mitani, right before his eyes. Those eyes, always cool and collected, sometimes seeming devoid of any feeling at all.
No way!
The man was glaring at Wataru with hatred in his eyes. His teeth were clenched as a result of the pain of his wound.
“Who are you?!” Wataru managed to ask. His tongue was numb in his mouth.
“What’s it matter who I am?” The man said, gritting his teeth. “I’m just a man. I don’t expect a kid like you to understand, but I’m not a bad man. I’m just someone doing what he can in search of happiness.”
“No. I know you who you are. You’re Yacom!”
For the first time, a shadow of fear passed over the man’s features. He turned his eyes away from Wataru.
“You’re Yacom! You abandoned your wife and Sara and ran off—or tried to run off—with Lili Yannu, now banished to the Swamp of Grief…” Wataru figured it out. “You’ve been selling those counterfeit tears to support her, haven’t you? That’s how you made the money to build her a house, isn’t it?”
Yacom’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “How do you know about me and Lili? Who told you those stories?”
“No one told me stories. I’ve met Lili myself, and I’ve met your wife Satami. I know Sara too. I know how much she misses her father. That’s all.”
Yacom, covered with mud, sat up, holding a hand over his wounded shoulder. Something Wataru had said turned the man’s eyes as dark as the water of the swamp.
“Who are you to say that? You’re just a kid,” he muttered, the fight gone from his voice. “Don’t tell me. I know what I’m doing, I know I’m being selfish. I know