BATTER 21

“He has bleeding from a scalp contusion. Since the scalp is densely packed with blood vessels, bleeding can often make an injury look more severe than it actually is. He’s unconscious, but his breathing is normal and there are no signs of bleeding from his nose or ears. While there’s no clear evidence yet to classify this as a serious traumatic brain injury, he needs a detailed examination.”

The girl looked a bit startled when she saw Bijou’s face, but she eventually came over and sat beside the “teacher,” clutching a gun that likely wouldn’t do much anyway. Baron shoved his hands into his pants pockets and watched the girl and Bijou murmuring to one another.

“Get away from our teacher.”

“In addition, I suspect he sustained a fracture to his right radius during the collision. Rapid treatment is necessary to prevent infection, malunion, and other potential complications.”

“I told you to get away!”

For two parties that were pointing guns at each other just a moment ago, they were getting close fast. Baron didn’t know whether to find it funny or feel left out. He tilted his head to the side and spoke up.

“You remember that guy was holding a gun to my head just a second ago, right?”

“Yes!”

The tin angel smiled. That cheerful “Yes!” felt like it was followed by a silent ‘So what?’ Right, so he’s even kind to the human who was just pointing a gun at him. I guess an organic human like me just can’t understand this level of excessive mercy.

If the tin angel says he needs rapid treatment, what choice do I have? Baron let out a heavy sigh and hoisted the fallen teacher over his shoulder like a sack of luggage. The child hovered around Baron, unable to hide her restless anxiety. His narrowed brown eyes locked onto the nervous kid.

“Hey, kid. Where’s your school?”

“W—what?”

“I’m asking where I’m supposed to take your teacher.”

“T—that’s…!”

Though the situation clearly looked urgent to her, the child didn’t open her mouth easily. We’re the ones crawling into enemy territory, so why is she the one so worried? They seemed to be a group far more precarious than he’d anticipated. The fact that the person coming to rescue the ‘leader’ was a kid who’d barely hit puberty said it all. Baron tried to put on his most reliable and kind expression, but it didn’t work out very well. Instead, the child—now even more spooked—aimed her gun again.

“If—if I tell you, what are you going to do…!”

Seriously, I told you that thing shoots BBs. Baron scratched roughly at his brow where sweat was starting to bead.

“At the very least, I won’t eat him—”

“I am going to help treat him!”

Bijou cut in abruptly. Just by shifting the position of his eyebrows slightly, he looked far more virtuous than Baron ever could after minutes of effort.

“I have studied medical techniques and the use of various medicines to prepare for accidents and injuries that occur in daily life. I can help. It is my job to alleviate suffering.”

The way he looked down with those sad eyes felt almost religious, even to Baron. To use an old-fashioned term: an icon, an angel, something good like that. Even Nello and Patrasche, who longed so much for a Rubens, would probably be satisfied enough to turn back.

As Bijou appealed to her with his scientifically and aesthetically kind face, the sharp tension in the child’s eyes softened. After a bit more agonizing, the child finally made up her mind.

“Follow me.”

The girl signaled with her gun-clutching hand and began to stomp off ahead of them. Clack, clack.

“Wow, what a relief!”

Bijou followed the girl, grinning like a fool as if nothing were wrong. Baron readjusted the weight of the still-limp teacher on his back and thought to himself: So he’s the good cop, and I’m the bad cop.

Hmm, not bad. If I play the psycho and he plays the ditz, it’s a perfect balance.

The strange robot walked along the wasteland path following the child. The strange human walked along the wasteland path following the strange robot. Where the child finally stopped, there stood a strange school. It was a crude structure made by joining several shipping containers together to enclose a courtyard in a rectangular shape.

The walls were mottled with paint, as if someone had done a messy job on them. The containers, which might have once been quite colorful, had been weathered by wind and rain, leaving the impression of an abandoned playground. Each container had a faint number written on it; the child headed for container number three. When she knocked on the door, a thin, youthful voice called out from inside.

“Anchovy?”

“Spaghetti! It’s an emergency!”

A very analog identity check. As soon as the door opened, the child led the way inside. Looking in, the one acting as the gatekeeper was also just a kid around her age. Upon encountering their unconscious teacher, the children began to scream one after another.

“Teacher is dead!”

“Teacher collapsed!”

“What did you do to our teacher?!”

The panicked children surrounded Baron, who was carrying the teacher on his back. Even so, from his height, they were just kids whose crowns he could barely see. Baron ignored the crude, clumsy guards and scanned the interior.

Yellowish lightbulbs, a ceiling-mounted air purifier, two field cots, several peeling children’s chairs, a few old dolls and cushions, and desks and bookshelves cobbled together from salvaged junk. It felt less like a school and more like an air raid shelter. The war hasn’t ended here yet, has it?

While he surveyed the room, a kick that didn’t even tickle landed against his knee—they must have learned something from their teacher. Just then, the girl who had guided Baron and Bijou blocked the group.

“Don’t hit him! This guy is a gang member! We can’t get on his bad side any more than we already have!”

Wait, you’re the one who shot at me… Baron chuckled, remembering his forehead being pelted by plastic beads.

“Man, this place is like a chicken coop. Chirp, chirp, go the little chicks…”

He grumbled playfully as he laid the teacher down on a long field cot. As his head touched the bed, the man’s lips trembled slightly, but he remained unconscious. The endlessly chirping children swarmed the bedside. Counting them up, there were about ten; none of them looked older than their mid-teens. Some were crying, others were angry. Pushing through the various noisy children, Bijou approached the bed.

“Excuse me. Excuse me.”

Bijou lifted the teacher’s eyelids to check them and then covered the side of his face with his palm. Though the children didn’t lower their guard, they didn’t stop Bijou from touching the teacher. Then, one child who had been staring intently at Bijou’s profile opened his mouth in surprise.

“Wait, that robot…!”

“Hey, be quiet!”

Before the words could even get out, several hands flew up to cover the kid’s mouth. Baron leaned loosely against the wall and watched the whole scene. Those young eyes, so obvious and clumsy that they were practically transparent, focused on Baron. Out of politeness, Baron decided to turn his head away and pretend not to notice.

“Hey, pretty boy. How’s he doing? He’s not gonna die, is he?”

“Breathing is normal, and his heart rate is stable. No swelling, tremors, or paralysis were observed, and while his cortisol levels are somewhat high, they are not at a critical level. At this point, it appears to be a concussion, and it is necessary to monitor his progress over the next two hours. However, because the biological brain is a sensitive and function-dense organ, it is important for him to see a specialist for a full recovery without further complications.”

“Right. What about the bone?”

“Again, it would be ideal to receive treatment from a specialist, but I have learned the procedure for treating fractures. A splint and bandages are currently required.”

“What’s a splint?” the small heads whispered among themselves. At this, Baron sighed and rummaged through the junk lying on the floor. After a moment, he found a magazine whose cover had turned blue and hazy with age. He tossed the magazine, which was so old he couldn’t even tell when it had been published. Bijou, who was in the middle of removing the teacher’s outer coat, skillfully snatched the magazine out of the air.

“Thank you for your cooperation!”