<small>There was nothing I used to hate more than cases of missing children.
I mean, hi. My name is Saikoro. I'm an officer--a former officer of the Kitiwai Royal Guard. Been retired some years now. Ten or so...I lost track...
<font color=blue>Yeah, like I said, there was nothing I used to hate more than cases of missing children. Children taken by disgruntled parents, displeased with the ruling of the royal court. Children taken away by strangers, to remote shrines and temples to some obscure god or goddess. Children taken...by others, for other purposes. Yeah, I hated those cases. But I was young back then...maybe a little naive. I had a limited number of cases under my belt, yet thought my work had brought me to know the world. There was a certain way things worked...and I thought I knew it.</font>
As soon as the news came to me, I jumped on the case of Ren and Mete. Two little children--twins--<font color=blue>that went missing from a little town nearby the capital</font>. I wanted to be the one to find those kids. Nothing--not even my whiskers or my tail, as they say--was more important to me right then than to bring those kids home.
Well, first things first, right? I knew that, even back then. I talked to their caretaker--a single father--to try to get some leads. <font color=blue>I still remember the proceedings to this day.</font>
The weather was sunny and bright, which contrasted sharply with the run-down little shack Awateru called his home. I remember thinking, as I walked in, that this was no place for two little kids to grow up. Awateru and I exchanged formalities, <font color=blue>before he led me in. We had a seat at his kitchen table, which he didn't bother to clear of the various empty bottles and newspapers covering the tabletop</font>. Smelled kinda funny in here, I thought.
It must be hard to raise two children on your own, I began politely. Awateru grunted and responded that he did as well as circumstances allowed. When did your children disappear, Awateru-san? Two weeks ago, when they were out playing.
He wasn't much friendlier for the rest of the <font color=blue>questioning--nor was the information he provided very useful</font>. He had no real insights on where his children might be...I kept trying, <font color=blue>but it was mostly wasted effort</font>. Having gathered all the information as was to be had, I made my closing niceties before leaving. It occurred to me as I was exiting that, what with how charming the father seemed to be, the children might have packed off on their own accord.
I left <font color=blue>the place</font> with nothing more than some information about the kids' other relatives. Well, at least I had something to go on, I thought. Unfortunately, investigating the other kids' relations wasn't much more useful than the original interview with the father. I assigned a subordinate to keep an eye on them, while I tried thumping around the city for news. No luck there.
I was going through all the right motions, but I was getting nowhere. I grew more and more frustrated at my lack of success. That, of course, was when the news came to me.
Another child had gone missing.
---
Great, just great, I thought. Hoping against hope that the two cases weren't related, I went to investigate the new situation.
This family was in a completely different situation from Awateru. They lived in a nice, big, upscale home; tall ceilings, nice furniture, hired maids. Suburbanites. Foreigners, at that--usagijin, no less. Don't run into too many of those in Nekonia. Their vegetarian lifestyle doesn't normally mesh with us "cats."
I digress. Anyway, the Poivre family was positively distraught--I spent as much time calming the mother down as I did interviewing the family. It didn't help that they spoke Common only brokenly. To my frustration, I didn't get much in the way of decent information out of them, either...except one thing.
Their child had disappeared while playing, too.
Now, it was weeks after the Awateru incident, but...I had to ask. So I did.
Did your child know the Awateru twins?
Twins, mehsir? Or whatever that crazy word usagijin <font color=blue>use for an honoriffic. Either way, they looked surprised. They went on to say that they often saw their child playing with some nekojin twins...</font>
Awateru Ren and Mete ring a bell? I asked, a knot forming in my stomach.
<font color=blue>Well...no, they didn't really know their names.
I pressed for more information, but all I could get out of the Poivres were very confused looks and more of their unholy union of Common and Usagijin. However, I did manage to extract that before their own Mable had disappeared, the twins themselves hadn't shown up to play for the last couple weeks...</font>
Feeling grim, I nodded, and gathered my notes. I thanked the two and made my way out of their home.
It occurred to me as I was leaving that something felt wrong about the interview. Maybe it was the hole punched in the wall--poorly concealed by a plant vase--that I noted as I was making my way out. It seemed to be...rather out of place. It was a discordant flaw within the crisp, clean Poivre home.
I didn't brood on this too long, however. I was more caught up in the obvious correlation between my two cases. I filed my findings with the office and tried, once more, to dredge up new clues.
Again, I had no damn luck.
---
I had no lousy choice but to sit on the cases. As had happened before in the past, I had run into a glass wall in my investigation. I bet you can guess that my nerves didn't take it well when the third case arose.
A fourth child had gone missing.
By now, I was pretty damn upset. <font color=blue>There were four children missing in my area--coincidence? You've got to be kidding me. Furthermore, I had no idea on where these kids were, or who their kidnapper might be or what his--or her--motivation might be.
Couldn't be money, what with Awateru's house--if you could call it that. Three of the children were both natives and nekojin, so it couldn't be something solely against foreigners or usagijin. Furthermore, none of our investigations had turned up any bitter humfish among the relatives to worry about, although that couldn't be completely ruled out just yet. Still...I didn't like where the current clues were pointing toward. For all I knew, the bodies would wash up in a lake somewhere--and there could still be more.
And I'd be responsible for having not caught the culprit.
---
Work was tense. I was tense. If someone looked at me crooked, I was liable to go off on them. As you could guess, after going through the same routine with the family of Onkei Lapi I was a little...wound up.</font> So I stopped at a bar on the way home from work, and drank more sake than any nekojin has a right to. Isn't it ironic that's when my luck changed?
You see, I was coming out of The Smiling Gottkrieg. Well, stumbling, more like it. Took a wrong turn on Tora Street--wound up well on my way through the slummier parts of Nekonia City and didn't even notice my mistake until I ran smack into a shaggy-haired, shabby-clothed, raunchy-smelling derelict. Oops.
You alright, man? He held out a steadying hand--as steady as it was, anyway. His other hand held a bottle, and it seemed he had been putting it to good use. Still, between the two of us, we seemed to keep from crashing to the street.
Yeah, I replied, shaking my head, trying to clear it. Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, as it got me a face full of yellow teeth, a puff of rancid breath, and a hearty slap on the back. Well, at least he was friendly.
Good, good, he said. It's a good night to be alright! He took another pull from his bottle which caused him to cough up a storm, dribbling liquid onto his chin.
Sobering slightly, I remembered why I had been out drinking in the first place. Not everyone is alright, tonight, I responded soberly. Well...you know what I mean.
Hobo wiped his chin with his tattered sleeve, looking at me curiously. What do you mean?
I told him, in brief terms, about my frustrations. Something about drunkards make them both willing storytellers and good listeners, and aside from that, the exercise was surprisingly cathartic. By the time I wrapped up my tale, the man had his ears pricked forward in all alertness and his eyes were shining with interest.
You know, he said. You know, I heard something once. I don't know how true it may or may not be. But this kid I know, he says he knows these kids, and he visits them out east.
Out east?
<font color=blue>In a forest, you know? The forest out east? He visits these kids there.
There was a short silence between us, as I stood staring at him, blinking a bit--kind of stupidly, really. Noting my silence, the man continued.
But how any kids live out there, and on their own, I don't know. But maybe he's making up stories--you know how kids are.</font>
Yeah, I said, laughing ruefully. Yeah. Kids.
We both had a good laugh, talking into the night about nothing in particular.
---
The next day, I woke up with a horrible hangover. I called off work for the day because of it. After puking my guts out in the privacy of my own home, I felt the drive to do something constructive--anything constructive--but what? It took me a while, but I finally remembered my chance encounter last night.
Well, I didn't have much else to go on, did I?
It took me about half an hour by griffy, but I made it there. I left the griffy tied up outside, with some slack on the line so he could graze the trees and shrubbery for lunch. The forest itself was quiet and still, and as I walked deeper inside--somewhat gloomy. So used to the hustle and bustle of the city, I was a little unnerved.
Suddenly, I caught a whiff of a smell! It triggered a memory in my mind, but that memory danced just out of my mind's grasp...I thought hard to recall it, but all I got was a flash of Awateru's shanty...
Then, I heard rustling as something began running. Without thinking, I gave chase, I raced in the direction from where I heard the noise. My boots pounded against the ground and my nostrils flared to catch a scent. And I got it, sure enough.
I'll never forget what I found.
---
I skidded to a halt, in a small clearing outside this cave. There, staring at me in wide-eyed surprise and varying degrees of fear, were four children...three nekojin and an usagijin. Two of the nekojin, obviously twins, looked lean and underfed; the usagijin kid had a shrewd look to her eyes; and the remaining nekojin--the littlest of the bunch--looked like he'd recently been in a fight.
I stood there dumbfounded for...I don't know how long, honestly. I stared at them, and they stared at me. Finally, I came to my senses, and whirled about. Where's the kidnapper, I asked!
One of the twins stepped forward. Ren. There is no kidnapper, he said, mustering an admirable amount of bravery.
I stared at him blankly, before my face grew dark with realization. Runaways, huh?
Runaways. Why do kids do this? Do they know what their families are going through? Do they have any idea? Running away isn't the answer. It really--
Yes! The injured nekojin piped up, interrupting my thoughts and glaring at me, but nevertheless shaking slightly. Of course we are...do you know what home was like?
Dad's a drunkard, Mete explained. He gets money from the Kitiwai government to feed us, and spends it all on his drink. Ren and I do better out here, where we can hunt out our own food.
There is too much screaming and there is too much yelling in the house, the usagijin--Mable--declared, tall ears erect and defiant. And throwing...I am tired of having things thrown at my head. I am more tired of them connecting.
I'm tired of getting beat, the little kid, Lapi, added. Ren and Mete take care of me here and they don't hit me.
To say the least...
I was surprised.
But they didn't give me much chance for reflection.
Do you know what they do to Lapi? Mete went on. It's awful.
Worse than Dad when he's drinking, Ren agreed. We just don't eat or anything. Most of the time.
I shook my head. There are people you can report your parents to...
Mable shook her head. You people always say that. Do you know how many nekojin have a care when non-nekojin are being beaten by immigrant parents? We are, as they say, a blight upon Nekonia.
I had to ask myself, where did this kid get so cynical? But my thoughts were once again interrupted. Lapi was sniffling.
When I...when I tried to tell...they...they talked to my family...and my parents...
The usagijin girl put her arms around Lapi and gave him a hug. Sometimes they do not even care about their own kind, she added, giving me a cold look.
Trying not to show how much Lapi's crying was getting to me, I sighed and found a nearby patch of ground to sit down on. If I was going to talk to these kids for an extended period of time, no sense in towering over them. Wouldn't hurt to turn them off the defensive, either...I started asking them questions about how they came here, their daily routine, and so on.
---
To begin with, Ren and Mete apparently had learned how to hunt and scavenge, to live on their own in this forest, years ago. It was a necessity, because of what their father did--they didn't do it alone, Mete explained, they bribed some acquaintances...he never said with what, although he hinted at it being his dad's drink. And getting caught. Eventually, after befriending Mable and Lapi, the twins learned of their situations...and, well, after a trial of living off the land...
Mete was quite willing to detail the daily chores. Everyone helped, she said. They each had their specialties. Lapi piped in occassionally, and even Mable added in a comment or two. However, while the other three settled down to various levels of ease when I stopped talking about their home life, he never relaxed. Instead, he stared at me darkly the whole time, little hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides.
Finally, when the conversation lulled, he asked--well, stated more than asked, really--You're going to make us go home, aren't you.
The effect was immediate. Mete yelped. Mable scowled at me, and Lapi looked terrified. I looked from one kid's face to another. And then...
I stood up. Stretched. Scratched my elbow, and stared up at the forest canopy. The sunlight trickled in between leaves here and there. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly with a deep sigh, and walked away in silence.
Hey, Ren called out.
Hey!
HEY! Boy had some lungs on him. You better not tell anyone! We're better off here, you know! Don't tell anyone!
Please, Mete begged...Lapi was crying again, and Mable was trying to calm him down, shooting me icy looks as I looked back. I nodded to Ren.
I don't know who you kids are, I said simply.
And I walked away.
---
I wonder to this day. About those kids...about their families...about a lot of things. About the choice I made. Was I right? When I think about how those families must have felt, I don't know. But...then I think about those kids...
Maybe I was too influenced by those silly kids' books I grew up reading.
You know the type...kids wind up roughing it, living it on their own, because of whatever.
The kind of situation every kid wants to have, just a little...
Or a lot, depending on your home life.
I don't know.
There was nothing I used to hate more than cases of missing children.</small> <p>
<center><small>"We are just poor, wandering corn farmers..."
</p>
Edited by: pd Rydia 
at: 10/15/04 1:11 am
</p>
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