Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [364]
It was Wataru as he had seen him in the Swamp of Grief. Wataru the murderer.
That was just a hallucination. It wasn’t real. It was a nightmare. None of that really happened. It’s a lie, a liar, a lie!
Trembling, Wataru stepped backward. The other Wataru was rapidly closing the distance between the two of them. He came so close he could see the shadow his eyelashes cast on his face. In one smooth motion, the other Wataru drew his Brave’s Sword.
His evil twin opened his mouth, but the voice that he heard was that of the stone-baby who had chased him in the Swamp.
“I’ve been waiting for you, murderer.”
Then Wataru realized. This reproduction of the Swamp of Grief was no stage. It was an arena. A place of combat. He would have to fight this hallucination—this image of himself—right here and right now.
Rise, and triumph!
The other Wataru kicked the surface of the lake with the toe of his boot.
Wataru didn’t have time to think. He didn’t even have time to reach for his sword. In a flash, his double had closed the distance between them, and the Brave’s Sword cut keenly through the air just below Wataru’s chin. Wataru’s legs buckled and he fell flat on his back, looking up at the sky. The inertia of his fall sent him skidding across the crystallized water.
Unable to change his direction, Wataru slid until he collided with the feet of his double who had run ahead of him. The sword was coming down straight at him. Wataru screamed and rolled off to one side. The edge of the sword bit into the surface of the lake, sending shards of crystal flying through the air.
Wataru crawled away, finally managing to regain his feet. His murderous double was behind him now. The sword swung a second time, coming so close that the wind from the blade’s passage through the air was enough to slice into Wataru’s ear. Blood trickled down his neck.
He didn’t have time to feel pain. The blood was warm on his cheek, and droplets soaked into his shirt. Wataru’s head spun with such fear and confusion that he couldn’t tell which one of them led and which followed, which was real, and which was merely an image. Is it him? Is it me?
Wataru ran, but his reflection grabbed his shirt from behind, and pulled him down. They both fell to the hard surface of the lake. Wataru felt the coldness of the boy beneath him, and it sent a shiver down his spine. What is this thing? It felt like it was made out of ice.
But it’s real, it moves, even though it’s not alive and it’s certainly not a ghost.
Wataru’s adversary swung his arm, bringing the hilt of the Brave’s Sword in his hand down on Wataru’s head.
“I’m gonna kill you!” his double screamed, mocking him with his own words. The hatred emanating from his reflection was palpable.
Finally he managed to grab the hilt of his own sword. He couldn’t think of any words, he merely prayed. Fly!
It was enough. In the blink of an eye, Wataru found himself on his back at the edge of the lake. He hadn’t escaped completely, but at least he had time to stand up, catch his breath, and draw his sword. His legs and hands continued to shake and his shoulders heaved.
The other Wataru was still in the middle of the lake, standing straight and calm as though nothing had happened. Even his posture mocks me. His face was still twisted in an evil smile. He seemed ready to laugh out loud. This was the hardest thing to believe. No matter how low I sink, I could never smile like that.
“H-hey, you!” Wataru said through trembling lips. He lifted his Brave’s Sword. It wasn’t a fighting pose. He was gripping the hilt of the sword like a drowning man grips a life preserver.
“You’re not me! You’re not! You don’t exist! You’re a hallucination!”
Wataru fired a magebullet. His double easily dodged the glowing bolt as it arced over the lake. The next shot he caught with the blade of his sword, sending it straight