Chapter 30

“There had to be an easier to way to get me alone,” I said with a smirk. We’d had to let Viktor in, since once he realized we were in the barn, he’d begun kicking the door. He was satisfied to sit in his pen, at least.

Mariko ignored my attempt at levity. “This is… Hold on.” She handed me the translator earpiece, and her lips went out of sync with her words. “I don’t want anything to be misunderstood. Magpie, you know many of my secrets, but this is one I have never said out loud. Please, no jokes. If I stop, I don’t know that I will be able to start again.”

I nodded solemnly. This wasn’t the time. “Please, do go on.”

I’m not sure how long she paced before gathering up her words. “One of my great grandfathers on my Father’s side was named Seiji. I never met him; he was born more than a hundred years ago, and my parents had me late. I always heard about him growing up, though. I knew he served during World War Two, but there were never any stories about that. All of his children and grandchildren could never find enough good things to say about him.”

“He sounds like a good man.” I didn’t have a grandfather on my demon side; most devil family trees didn’t extend that far back.

“It wasn’t just the family that loved Seiji, though. He was a volunteer fire fighter for a few years when my grandfather was a child. He was generous with his charity, and he ran a successful restaurant, which is why he could be so charitable. It’s still there in Tokyo; I’ll take you there sometime. One of my uncles runs it now.”

“I’d be delighted.” I didn’t see how this was relevant.

She let out a long, slow breath, which told me we were getting to the meat of the story. “When I was thirteen, one of his sons, my great uncle, passed away. The League wanted to build more refugee housing there, so we only had a month to put things in order. My aunt Aoi asked us to help go through his things, so we went over there for the weekend. Most of it was ordinary; some books, art, even a large Betamax collection we had no way to play.”

I nodded, pretending I had the foggiest idea what a Betamax was. To be fair, most humans my age wouldn’t know the word, either.

Mariko swallowed, clutching her hands in front of her. “I went into the attic to fetch another box, and my foot went through a rotten floorboard. When I pulled it out, though, I saw there was a journal hidden away in there, written by great-grandfather Seiji.” She swallowed again, and her voice came back in more of a quaver. “I started reading and… and…”

I stepped forward. “If it’s too much—”

“No, I need this,” she said, shaking her head. “He said it was his confessions, about his time in the war. He was there from the early stages of the war in China, and he helped with the… he served in Nanking.”

My eyes widened at that. The World Wars were one of the only parts of human history I truly knew well, and that was a name that had a special horror, even when discussing mankind’s greatest war before my people arrived. “Then he…”

She nodded, her words failing her. “You know. Good. I don’t think I could explain it. He was there for everything, Soren. The worst of it. The family always said he’d served in the South Pacific on a destroyer. I don’t know if he lied, or they did. Can you imagine having something like that in your history? To have the blood of an admitted monster in your veins?”

Oh, you sweet summer child. “I can. The British Empire didn’t exactly have a clean record. However, I don’t see what that has to do with you. You weren’t there, after all, any more than I was.”

“W-well, that isn’t all of it,” she said, her voice catching. “My magic chose that moment to come in. I’d had no idea I had magical potential until that moment; I’m the only wizard in the family. I wanted that book to disappear, and my affinity decided to do something about it.” She picked up a loose piece of straw, and it began flaking away. “It was out of control, and before I figured out how to stop, there were only a few shreds of the journal left.”

“I imagine the family was devastated to find out,” I said.

“Exactly why I didn’t tell them. About the book, or the magic. If they knew, they kept it from me. If they didn’t, it would destroy their vision of what they thought was a great man.”

“That can’t have been easy,” I said. “To carry around a secret like that.”

“I thought you might understand,” she said, smiling weakly. “Do you see, now? Why I won’t fight?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” I said.

“Great-Grandpa Seiji was a w-war criminal,” she said, lifting her glasses so she could dab her eyes. It seemed that it was her turn to have some allergies. “If he had been caught, he might have been executed, and they would have said he deserved it.”

“He would have,” I said. “At least, by the laws of man.”

“You don’t see it,” she said disappointedly. She stepped forward and put a hand on her chest. “If they had, my whole family would never have been born. The city wouldn’t have had a volunteer fireman, and who would have donated to those charities?”

I took my own step forward. “Does that make up for it, though? If somebody does something so awful and never has to face justice, do a few minor acts of kindness make up for it?”

“I-I know your hands aren’t clean either.” Mariko put away her handkerchief. “Are you asking for Seiji or yourself?”

I hesitated too long. “Seiji.”

“If you say so,” she replied, smiling knowingly.

Observant women are always trouble.

“Anyway,” she said. “Who am I of all people to pass judgement? Who can really know what can be? The worst monsters can become pillars of their community. They can be beloved fathers and grandfathers. Seiji was told that the people he was fighting were subhuman, and when they say that about the demons and devils, all I can wonder is if we’re wrong, too.” She took my hand in hers; she was trembling like a scared rabbit. “A-and my power isn’t like Hiro’s strength or Kiyo’s invisibility. I can’t do anything constructive. All it does is tear things apart atom by atom. I could be as destructive as an army of Grandpa Seijis if I developed my magic.” She gulped again. “In the Tower, things were so desperate. There were times I wondered if I shouldn’t grab you and…” Another piece of straw vanished to illustrate her point.

It was my turn to gulp. “Well, I’m rather glad you didn’t.”

“Exactly!” Her declaration echoed in the barn, starling Viktor out of grooming himself with his trunk. She cleared her throat to compose herself. “Exactly. If I had, we’d have all died. You saved the day for us. Who knows what the people devils could become if we gave them the chance?”

I gulped again as she came closer to me. Mariko had always had a certain effect on me, but this was different. There was a physical nearness, but it was like her soul was bare to me. To a devil so used to secrets, it seemed more indecent than nudity. “Y-you know the average devil isn’t much like me, right?” Sadly.

“I don’t, actually,” she said, sounding almost giddy. I suppose she had just unloaded herself. “I’ve never met one. However, I figure if their kin can be redeemed, they might not be completely lost.”

Oh, she was a dangerous one, that I knew with the utmost certainty. Some traitorous part of my mind wanted to just out myself then, expose Malthus to her the way she’d exposed her great-grandfather. Things would be easier if somebody near me knew the full truth. Look how relieved she is right now, and her secret isn’t half as serious as mine.

I shook my head. No, absolutely not. It wouldn’t profit her any, and she might let things slip. Even if she had just proven she could keep a secret for nearly a decade…

A decade. Would I still be around in a decade? Where could I possibly go, with Fera and Girdan sending assassins after me? I had no way of fighting back; even the Wizard Corps wouldn’t be able to launch a raid on Pandemonium to end the threat. They would never stop, and eventually my luck would run out. If I were dating Mariko and they found out… Well, being blown up by the Beckers would be a clean and efficient death by comparison. You never let a devil know you care for something, because that will be the first thing they want to break.

“Th-then we shall have to agree to disagree,” I said, putting aside that warm feeling. Mariko doesn’t deserve the danger I bring with me. “I have seen them up close, and your sympathy is wasted.” She visibly deflated, and I couldn’t stand to leave it at that. “It’s a beautiful idea, though, and I won’t try to talk you out of it again. However, there’s a difference between catching a man years later and trying him, and encountering him in a brawl. If the enemy comes knocking, I will choose me, or you, or anybody else here. I can’t do it alone, though, and you’ll need to be ready to fight them.”

She puffed out her cheeks. “That sounds an awful lot like talking me out of it.”

“No, I’m simply asking for a compromise,” I replied. “You seem to have a low opinion of yourself, which is frankly insane.”

“There’s no second chances with my power,” she said. “I-I don’t want to have that weigh on me.”

There we go. There’s the underlying reason. “There’s no second chances with a sword to the neck; that’s rather the point. I wish we lived in a world where you didn’t have to make the choice and could live peacefully, but we no longer have that world. We need you and, push comes to shove, we'll need Bike Remover.”

“That is not the name of my affinity,” she insisted.

“Then name it yourself,” I said, giving my voice a playful lilt. Things were getting too intense there. “You’ve had plenty of time; you must really be fine with Bike Remover.”

“That would only be acknowledging it,” she said. “Giving it power.”

“Good; a woman who could forgive a demon should forgive herself for having a powerful talent!” Clearly she associated her magic with a traumatic moment, which finally explained how anybody who was (mostly) sane could possibly hate having magic. They assigned me to help Rose, Hiro, and Kowalski when there was another patient hiding under our noses. “What if Seiji had sat around, hiding his talents, or drunk himself silly to escape his guilt? He’d have been no good to anybody.”

Her brow furrowed. “I… I never thought of it that way.”

“To reverse the…” I very nearly said the Enemy’s teaching, which I didn’t care to explain. “To reverse a phrase, you focus on the speck in your own eye, but overlook the log in everyone else’s. The magic isn’t wicked, it’s a matter of how you use it. You’ve just always refused to develop it.”

“I vaporize matter. What could I possibly to that’s productive?”

“We’ll never know until we try! Think how fortunate you are compared to your friends. You never sleep cast, your magic doesn’t chase the sheep, and you don’t double umbrella sales whenever you’re in a foul mood. I suspect we can find some other applications if you’ll only try. First step, though? Let’s name the blasted thing!”

I was worried I’d gone too far, but she seemed to take my suggestions seriously. She bit her lip thoughtfully. “I’ll wait until we figure it out. Mimic can do more than copy spells now, so the name doesn’t quite fit anymore. I’ll name my affinity once we really know what I can really do.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” I said.

Mariko gave my hands a squeeze, and I think we both realized at the same moment how close we were to one another. We broke contact and stepped back, and I’m sure my face was as red as hers. It was me and her alone, and nobody would miss us for an hour…

I shook my head to clear it. “W-we should find the others.”

“Yes,” she said, switching back to English. “You saw how I used to bicker every day with Mr. Maki about my magic. Do you know what the difference is between you and him?”

I mimed his belly with my hands. “Twenty-five years and fifty kilograms?”

“You are awful sometimes,” she said.

I flashed her a sly smile. “I hardly see how that makes me different than him.”

“Stop it,” she said, letting out a restrained giggle despite herself. “The difference is that he ordered, but you listened.”

“I think he’d have understood about Seiji,” I replied.

She dismissed me with a wave of her hand. “I could not tell my own father and mother. I was not about to bare my conscience to a bully like him.”

“But you could tell me?”

“Of course,” she said. “I can trust you with anything.”

Despite the cold outside, her words filled me with a strange mix of warmth and shame. “If you say so, my dear.” If she won’t be sensible, that isn’t my fault.