The Weight of the Bouquet (2)
The village representatives who heard that Parso was raising a castle set out for the borderlands clinging to a thin hope that the news might be wrong. They had no choice but to sigh. There, in the loose, trailing garments and linen wound about the head that marked the people of Parso, men were already laying the castle’s foundations.
The nine villages of the demihumans and Parso alike now lived under the rule of the Emperor of Serdia. For the moment, then, those Parsoans could do nothing to them, and had no means of doing anything. The chance that they would cross the borderlands and take up arms was slim as well. And yet, in the deep places of hearts that had suffered at their hands for hundreds of years, fear rose whether the demihumans willed it or not. Before long that fear had swallowed every one of them.
Whether they begged protection from some noble strong enough to check Parso, or took up arms themselves, they had all at once come to need a terrible amount of money. So they began a wholesale review of every budget that was meant to be spent, and in the end Liliane and Kunsai’s admission to the academy was laid upon the block as well.
The Present Faction’s demand that the plan be scrapped met resistance from the Future Faction, but at last the matter was pushed on to the next stage.
“…Let us put it to a vote of all the residents.”
At the decision of the elder who had been leading the council, Tekun, head of the Future Faction, showed his reluctance plainly.
“The children have already been accepted to the academy… and now you would take it back?”
“Depending on the vote, we may have no choice…”
“That really is too harsh—”
Someone from the Present Faction shouted at him.
“If the children go to Caipol and we can’t even support them properly, what kind of farce is that?”
“Even so, undoing what has already been decided will leave a wound on those children that can never be washed clean.”
Then Tarkan, head of the Present Faction, who had been watching the exchange in silence, slammed his hand down on the table and roared.
“Then you go, Tekun, and bring that castle down yourself…!”
At those words not one of the Future Faction dared open a mouth in answer, and Tekun too had no choice but to shut both eyes and lips.
Some time later, as the council had resolved, every demihuman gathered in Chert Village, where the largest square stood. Pots were smashed, and into each gathered hand was pressed a shard on which to mark yes or no. Kunsai and Liliane were caught between them, watching the vote go forward. Liliane had gone blank at the news that she might not be allowed to go to the academy, and Kunsai was fighting to keep his composure, and not a soul dared approach either of them. Everyone there looked only ahead—only ahead—as if the two of them were not in that place at all.
With the elder’s declaration, Kunsai and Liliane’s road to the academy burst like foam. Yet no one could smile at it. A silence like water thrown over a fire settled over the whole square. Even Tarkan, head of the Present Faction, drew his brows together and kept his mouth shut, and Tekun’s face held nothing but worry.
Liliane, who had stood dazed for a long while as if she could not believe the result, began to shake from head to foot like an aspen.
“Don’t… lie to me.”
“Liliane…”
“You’re lying!!!”
And from that moment Liliane began to wail as if she meant to cave the earth in.
“Hic… you said… you’d let me go! You promised! You said me and… Kunsai were the hope! You said go and work hard!! Auntie Bana said it, and Sister Olive too!! Everyone said that to me!!”
She screamed as if pleading, until her throat tore, and there was no one with the courage to soothe her. The village representatives, and even her father, stared at the ground with stricken faces. The rest only struggled to get clear of the square.
Then Kunsai, who had been looking up at the sky beside her, let out one long breath and stepped to her side.
“Liliane.”
“Ku… Kunsai….”
“Let’s go home. I’ll take you.”
His voice, truly, as if nothing at all were wrong. The indifference took the strength clean out of her. Liliane stared at him for a long while, then asked in a trembling voice.
“Kunsai, are you really all right?”
“It’s already decided.”
“You wanted to go too…. You said so…. To the academy…”
“Not really. I’m just a little disappointed, that’s all.”
The moment she heard it, Liliane felt as if her blood had surged backward. She lunged at him and shouted.
“Don’t make me laugh! You stayed up every night until your nose bled!!”
Kunsai bit his lower lip without mercy, then caught her arm and forced a smile.
“It’s decided, so there’s nothing we can do. Liliane.”
“Hic… hngh….”
“Come on. Home.”
Some time later he carried the spent Liliane home on his back, and then returned to his own house. He shoved into a corner both his longing for that otherworldly life in Caipol and any thought of duty, told himself of course it turned out this way, and lay spread-eagled on the bed, looking up through the window at the Milky Way, where the stars were making a river.
…Right. Like that river of stars my father saw, and my grandfather, and my grandfather’s grandfather—I only have to live the same life they lived. There’s nothing to feel wronged about. Nothing to be angry over.
…He decided that in the morning he would burn the books his hands had worn smooth.
The next morning, as Kunsai stepped outside with the books, something glittering in the early sun caught his eye. A few rings had been left sitting in front of the gate. He picked them up at once, went in, and held them out to his father, who sat at the table with the newspaper.
“Father, there were rings in front of the door. One of them looks like Auntie Bana’s. Should I take them back now?”
“I thought she was drinking herself sick yesterday. Leave them on the table. I’ll return them.”
…Caught by a feeling that something did not sit right, Kunsai decided he would simply burn the books the day after.
But the next day, and the day after that…
In front of their house there were rings and pocket watches, and then a drawer, a wardrobe… even a chicken. And his father, who had always moved so keenly, for some reason only stacked them quietly in a corner and left them there.
Demihumans do not keep many valuables. Kunsai knew whose they were. He swept everything he could carry into a sack, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and began to make the rounds of the village.
“This ring. It’s yours, Auntie.”
“I threw it away. You keep it.”
Auntie Bana from next door shut the door on him while he was still tilting his head at the answer.
“You said you barely scraped the money together to buy this watch. You bragged about it to me.”
“Oh? It was there? I looked for ages. Thanks.”
Brother Bread from the house behind said that, and even stroked his head. The next day he left the watch in front of Kunsai’s house again.
A few nights later, deep in the dark, a loud noise from below sent Kunsai running down, and he caught the back of Uncle Tarkan fleeing in a hurry. Beside the door lay piled the bear hides the man cherished so dearly.
“……….”
A few days after that, his father, Tekun Cherohun, called him and spoke in a low, clear voice.
“Go to the academy. Kunsai.”
“Father…”
“…We have just about that much. The entrance fee… and if you’re careful, a year’s living expenses will be enough.”
“That can’t… be possible.”
Kunsai, who had already more or less understood, shook his head, but his father’s eyes did not yield.
“Our kin living outside put money in as well.”
“Father, it takes more than six years to graduate from the academy! You know that!”
Kunsai had never once raised his voice to his father. Now it rose. Even so, there was not a tremor in the man’s eyes.
“I’ll find a way. Somehow.”
“No—haah…”
Then, all at once, Liliane passed through his mind: Liliane in the square, weeping as if she would cave the ground in. They said she had taken ill, and it had already been a long time since she last came outside. Recalling that tear-soaked face, he thought it might even be for the best, and spoke quickly.
“What about Liliane? Rather than me, Liliane should—”
“Kunsai.”
“Yes, Father.”
“You cannot plant rice in winter. How could we send a child who can’t even kill the bugs properly off to Caipol alone?”
“Even so. She wants it so much more desperately than I—”
“Kunsai. As you know, what we’ve been given is entrance money and living expenses for one person. This is a question of who has a chance.”
“……”
“I’ve already spoken with Liliane’s father about it.”
At those words Kunsai’s clenched hands began to shake. And then, for the first time in his life, he spat resentment at his father.
“Everyone was so set against it! And now, of all times—!”
A long while passed. When his rough breathing had finally quieted, his father smiled and spoke in a gentle voice Kunsai had hardly ever heard from him.
“Go… and do your very best. Your father is truly asking this of you. And Liliane, as you said… we will do everything we can…”
His father, who had only ever been stubborn, took him in his arms for the first time in a very long while, and with that their talk was over.
Liliane’s admission was cancelled. His was decided. Because he could not help being sorry for it, he had no choice but to keep his distance from Liliane, whom he had met every day.
After that the preparations for his departure went forward smoothly and quickly, and the villagers did not open their mouths carelessly about it. It was a kindness, meant for Liliane, who had to be left behind, and for Kunsai, who had to leave.
Most of the village adults hid their left hands, subtly, whenever they saw him. Now and then, when he turned back, the ring fingers of those left hands caught his eye—white, white, as if a band had circled them.
And so the day before he was to leave for Caipol drew near, and Kunsai walked toward Liliane’s house. If he saw her, he wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to say he would go and come back well. They had raised a dream together, after all.
But in front of her house he could only stop dead. From inside the walls came the sound of Liliane’s grieving sobs.
“Me too, me too!! I want to go to the academy….. I want to go to the academy!”
“Liliane! Enough of this sulking!”
“Hic… hngh…”
“If you carry on like that, how is Kunsai supposed to take even a proper step! Smile… send him off smiling!”
Her father’s stern voice. Kunsai could not bring himself to say goodbye to her while she still had not swallowed what she felt. He had no choice but to trudge back home.
With his heart in a knot he could not sleep all night… but the sun rose again all the same.
“Kunsai!! You have to go and do well!!”
Before the carriage that would take him, a great many people had gathered to send their hopes after the road ahead. Kunsai stood still, trying to take each face in, one by one. Just before he climbed aboard, Liliane came forward and held out a bouquet of purple violets.
In that instant everyone grew solemn. Kunsai closed his eyes, opened them, and quietly took it.
“Kunsai! Congratulations!!”
She called it out in a voice she forced to sound bright. Strangely, at words that rang so clearly, someone bit a lower lip, and more than one person wiped away tears. Liliane’s eyes, swollen shut, came into Kunsai’s sight, but he decided to pretend he had not seen them.
“Thank you, Liliane.”
“Even after you go, you have to do well!”
“Yeah. I’ll work hard enough for your share, too.”
Leaving Liliane behind her forced smile, Kunsai finally boarded the carriage. Some time later the wheels turned, and even the children who had run after it were gone. Kunsai looked for a long while at the bouquet she had given him, then lifted his head.
Luta was riding with him, the man who would share the city life and wait on him there. To him Kunsai spoke as if murmuring.
“Mr. Luta.”
“What.”
“Once I get to Caipol… what am I supposed to do?”
“Who knows.”
“I don’t know. I really…. I really don’t know.”
“Do well at school. That ought to be enough.”
“No. I… I want Liliane to go to the academy. They say it doesn’t look all that closely at age… if she just gets in within three years, wouldn’t that be enough?”
“……”
Luta could give him no answer. He had already lived a city’s life among humans, and he knew that coldness, that ruthlessness, better than anyone. But Kunsai, who truly knew nothing, clenched his fist and spoke to him with his whole will in it.
“If I can find a way to sell the sugar…. Wouldn’t that be enough? I’ll be in Caipol the whole time anyway.”
When a boy spoke like that—wearing the face of someone who had taken everything onto his shoulders, leaning on a shred of hope—an old man had little choice.
“………I’ll look into it with you.”
Luta nodded to him.
And so they arrived in Caipol, and everything after was just as he had told Blow. Refused, and refused, and refused again. School was no gentle thing on top of it. The academy made no particular allowance for the one demihuman within its walls. There was not even a desk or a chair for him; Luta had to go and find them.
Even so, Kunsai Cherohun tried to keep his steps light. If he felt the weight of any of it, that weight was lighter than Auntie Bana’s gold ring, lighter than Brother Bread’s pocket watch, lighter than Uncle Tarkan’s bear hides—lighter than the weight of the bouquet Liliane had placed in his arms.
With that in his heart, Kunsai had endured eight seasons in Caipol.
Kunsai did not go out of his way to tell this story in any detail. He already knew that feeling, which looks heavy, is in truth something all too light. That was why, earlier, when he spoke of his own people, he had tried so hard to speak so dryly. Of course, if it had not come across that way to them, there was nothing he could do about it…
And so he hoped Blow would judge with his head, and buy his sugar—no, his people’s sugar. Even just once. Truly once.
Kunsai sold sugar in Caipol.
There was no doubt that sentence would become an enormous hope for the people of his village, and beyond them for his entire race.
Blow, as he was now, had taken the paper Kunsai held out earlier and gone outside with Jane and Linne, and the three of them had been talking for quite some time. After a stretch that felt to Kunsai like hours, Blow came back in, sat down, and spoke to him at his ease.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“No, sir. It’s all right.”
Blow looked at him steadily for a moment, then spoke.
“So the point is, the quality’s nearly the same, but you’re selling it cheap. That right?”
“Yes, sir.”
Blow drew a finger once along his chin, then smiled and asked.
“How much sugar do you have on hand right now?”
At those words Kunsai’s eyes went wide. He shot up from his seat and answered.
“Wh-what I can bring you right away is about twenty pounds, sir!!”
“We’ll buy that immediately. And as for a contract…”
Every eye turned to him. He shrugged once and answered.
“I’ll look on it favorably.”
“Th-thank you! Thank you, young master!!”
Kunsai kept bowing at the waist, and Blow answered as if embarrassed.
“No—you’re the one selling good goods cheap… I’m the one who ought to be grateful. The donuts were really good, too.”
“Ah… ah… thank you.”
Kunsai wiped his face with his hand and looked up at the ceiling. …A high ceiling most demihumans would never see in all their lives. Toward it he clenched his fist once, tight, then spoke to Blow, who was watching him.
“Young master, may I step out to the washroom for a moment?”
“As you like.”
Kunsai hurried to the washroom behind the kitchen. From there, for a long while, came the sound of water running down.