–Will the case fail if they prove that I’m crazy?
“Well, uh, yes…”
–What will the official titles be? Of the crimes we’re accusing them of, I mean?
“Violation of the protection of minors law for starters, then forgery of official documents, status manipulation, rape, and attempted murder.”
–Will they ask me about how I felt while I was doing it? The things that I did, the things I let him do to me? Will they ask me what clothes I was wearing? They’ll say that the man did nothing wrong, because of how I allowed them to keep me, or because I wanted it. That’s what they always say at trial.
“I have no intention of letting them get away with that sort of thing at this trial.”
–The manager said something similar. That it was all nonsense. But no one listened to her. And no one will listen to me either. When there are plenty of girls like that…
“It won’t be like that this time.”
–I do want to help you two, you know. I really do. Do you believe me?
“I do,” said Oeufcoque.
–I want an explanation. An explanation that allows me to think that even if I’m hurt, I’m not damaged. A means to an end. I want to feel that I’m going through all this for something, someone. Inside me there’s a part of myself that would be happy to see me dead. But I don’t want to die. Not like this.
“Balot, you’re…”
–I have nightmares whenever I sleep. Always. And particularly since the incident with Shell. Do you have dreams, Oeufcoque?
“Not often, no. But I can tell when you’re having nightmares. It’s your smell, whenever you’re asleep—”
–I don’t want to die while I’m feeling this way. This much I know. But I’m scared. So scared I can barely move. Really. I could excavate fossils, or become a poet or a scholar—but none of that would explain anything. I don’t believe that having ambitions or dreams for the future can explain anything. All I know is that I want what I want right at this moment. Because I’ve never ever wanted something and then got it.
“Balot…you’ve really done well to get to where you are now. Tremendously.”
–What do you mean?
“You’ve survived. Even when you were under incredible stress, you’ve defended yourself by disciplining yourself to obey in order to survive, to protect your life. You’ve fought an immense battle, and that’s required great courage and endurance. Well, from now on I’m going to join you in your battle. I’ll turn into any weapon you want me to. You might not be used to this way of fighting. And, in truth, I can’t say which way of fighting is better. Nevertheless, I want you to understand our way of doing battle. We mean to discover everything—to determine why you were almost killed—and to do this we’re using the plan we devised while you were in your coma, which we’ll modify as we go along based on your reactions now that you’re awake.”
–And that’s enough of an explanation for you? That by listening to my grumbling, and getting lots of money at the end of it all, you can somehow make your life worth living?
“Like you, I have strong feelings of wanting to discover what I am, to be able to say ‘I’ve got it!’ At the moment, all I’m doing is projecting a constructed image of myself onto this city. I may be the scourge of the shadowy underbelly of this place, but when it comes down to it I’m nothing more than a shadow myself.”
After a short while the car entered Central Park.
They passed the boathouse near the pleasure quarter and arrived at the patch of blackened grass now surrounded by police tape used to cordon off the crime scene.
It was the place where she had died—the spot where she was nearly burned to death, trapped inside her own shell.
Balot parked the car there. After the tiniest of pauses she jumped out of the car, resolute.
The cold night air was drawing in, and the spot was quiet, with not a Hunter to be seen.
She crossed the police cordon and stood on the still charred ground. She looked up to the skies and succumbed to the overwhelming desire to shout with all her heart—but all that emerged was a breath that sounded like a draft leaking through a crack in the wall.
–There’s nothing that I really want to do. Everyone—all the girls I know, anyway—don’t get to do what they want, they just live without, until their lives are messed up by drugs or men. All I want is an explanation as to why we should want to live, even when we’re subjected to all that.
Balot closed her eyes, took her time, readied herself, and snarced straight at Oeufcoque.
–Love me.
“Erm… What’s that, now?”
–Give me an explanation, an excuse to live. I want to do that for you. It’d stand up in court as proof of your usefulness, and anyway, you’re supposed to do whatever I ask. So, love me.
“You mean…like a family? The way Queen Bee and the manager loved each other?”
–Shell told me he loved me. That’s why I got in that man’s car. I want to be loved by someone like you.
“Wait a second. Would that give you closure? Satisfy you?”
–What am I to you?
And with that, it happened. Oeufcoque turned back into a mouse with a squelch.
Balot had snarced him—forcefully, completely. Oeufcoque’s eyes opened wide, and he took a step back in Balot’s hand. He was trembling.
“M-my primary defenses…you can penetrate them? In an instant, just like that…”
–Won’t you answer me?
“Uh…um…wait a moment—so—well, you’re my client, and you’re the official Concerned Party in this case, so it’s my responsibility to protect you. And if there’s anything unsatisfactory about my conduct then you’re free to file a complaint at the Broilerhouse at any time.”
–Whatever. I don’t care about that sort of thing. That’s not what I’m asking you.
“Look, hang on a minute. As you can see quite clearly, I’m a one-of-a-kind all-singing all-dancing mouse. Nothing more. I think there’s some sort of misunderstanding. Do you think that all it takes is a wish from you and I can turn into a full-fledged human—a grown man—for your convenience? Impossible, I’m afraid. I don’t have the ability to become another living creature.”
–I know. You’re a mouse. A cute, kind, talking mouse. Do you think I’m crazy too? Like the Hunter I told you about?
Oeufcoque breathed a deep, exhausted sigh. So deep his suspenders seemed to slacken. “Look, do you think of me as some sort of pet? The sort that you can buy in a shop, complete with a cage and a wheel?”
Balot’s face fell. She looked sadder than ever before. It was almost as if this was the first time Oeufcoque had properly seen Balot’s facial expression.
–That’s not what I meant. Just that…
“As far as you’re concerned, whatever I may be, I’m here to protect you, to become your weapon in order to keep you out of harm’s way. Whereas you—you need to keep yourself alive and win the right to survive, to live.”