BATTER 53

He turned his gaze and scanned the children sitting packed together in the cargo bed. Several pairs of fearful, worried eyes twitched with anxiety, glancing here and there. After exhaling a very long sigh, Baron clapped his hands together with a loud crack. The wandering gazes drifting through the dawn air instantly snapped to a single point.

“First off, get down. You’ve been squeezed into that tiny space—aren’t your legs asleep?”

The children stole hesitant glances at one another. Then, one of the kids he had given a ride to earlier jumped down from the bed first. Following that lead, they began to climb off Mori’s back one or two at a time. Baron scooped up the smaller children and moved them to the ground.

“You were all scared, weren’t you? It’s okay. It’s okay now.”

Bijou looked into each of the young faces stained with salt and hugged them, checking for any injuries. Aside from some light abrasions, there were no recent wounds. That, at least, was a relief.

The underground passage, narrow to begin with, was now swarming and full. The sound of intermittent sobbing echoed so loudly in the silence that Baron scratched his head vigorously every time it happened. Perhaps they were all exhausted, as none of them whined about being afraid of the dark or threw a tantrum. However, when they faced the subterranean city at the end of the long tunnel, their eyes went wide, just as Baron’s had.

When the children were brought down to the village in two groups, the residents seemed more than a little surprised. It wasn’t so much the number of children that startled them, but the expressions on their small faces. The residents—possessing consciences seemingly cultured in a sterile room—wiped away the children’s tear tracks and coaxed them with sweet, loving words.

Their warm embrace must have been effective; the children cried out loud for a moment and then moved to the dining hall. The residents who had been gathered in one spot making insect meatballs were also startled, but soon repeated the same soothing process.

The tension in the children, who had been sobbing until their chins were wet with snot, finally subsided after they took a spoonful of warm soup. Their tears melted into the rising white steam and vanished. Once the tension broke and their stomachs were full, some of them began to nod off. They were still just children, after all.

Trixie was gnawing on her soup-stained spoon as if trying to bite through it. Her bowl was nearly empty. Baron sat across from her and watched. Sensing his presence, Trixie looked up. She didn’t look away.

Trixie, whose legs were shorter than the chair, swung her feet heavily in the air and stole a glance at Bijou, who was busy talking a few meters away. The residents, as virtuous as Old Testament shepherds, were seeking Bijou’s guidance on what to do. At the end of a long, quiet gaze, Trixie spoke first.

“That android… he’s the ‘Teacher’ here, isn’t he?”

“Quick on the uptake, aren’t you?”

Baron cocked an eyebrow. Trixie scraped the bottom of her empty bowl with the tip of her spoon, as if the comment didn’t quite sound like a compliment. Dribbling her hesitation through the blunt end of the utensil, the brat continued.

“The car that came before… it came back… and told us… to swap…”

“Swap what for what?”

Even as he guessed the omitted words, Baron asked his question in a flat, calm manner. In the face of a gaze that neither drew closer nor pulled away, Trixie curled her hand around the spoon.

“That android, for our teacher.”

“Your teacher.”

“They took our teacher away… and said if we bring the android… by midnight… they’ll give him back…”

“Where did they say to bring him?”

“…Edge Street. Our school…”

“Right.”

“My home…”

Trixie’s eyelids trembled as she finished her sentence. A reddish moisture began to fill the clear whites of her eyes. Yet, she did not cry. Instead, she lifted her head stiffly and looked Baron in the face. Her gaze was so sharp it was almost a glare.

Yes, eyes like these. Eyes like awls that pierce through light. Eyes that can dwell on anger rather than sorrow. Baron looked at the child, the trace of a smile vanishing from his face.

“You did well telling me. Good job.”

“…”

“We’ll get your teacher back, one way or another.”

“…”

“I owe those guys a little something myself, anyway.”

It was a debt that wouldn’t be settled just by burying a few bullets in a stomach or a finger. Baron stood up from the table with a grimacing smile. He now knew that the drug in question was being manufactured in this underground city. He also knew how useful such a drug would be on the surface. If that was the case, why did those men have to snipe at Baron and Liz that day? For what purpose?

To think they’d offer to come to him just when he was wondering how to settle that unpaid debt—what incredibly kind villains. Baron strode over and whispered into Bijou’s ear.

“It’s that guy with the crush on you. Again.”

Bijou, who had been comforting the children while moving between tables, turned his head. His pale face was composed, showing no sign of surprise. Looking down at that faint, calm face, Baron continued.

“I think I need to have a talk with your family.”

“In that case, the greenhouse would be best.”

“Whatever you say.”

Baron shrugged. Soon, Bijou led the residents—excluding the children—out of the dining hall. The residents, all requested to come to the greenhouse, nodded willingly. A bell rang to summon those who hadn’t yet received the news. Once the residents who had heard the unusual tolling arrived at the glass greenhouse, Baron finally stepped forward.

“There’s a very generous fellow who’s put a $100 million bounty on your Mr. Bijou. Apparently, he gave orders to bring him in ‘alive’ and without breaking him.”

“Mr. Bijou told us about that already. He told us to be careful if we ever go outside, just in case…”

Someone spoke up from the crowd gathered in a circle. It seemed it wasn’t uncommon for them to go to the surface to obtain daily necessities.

“Unfortunately, for those kids who swarmed in today, it was a bit too late to be careful.”

Baron signaled to Bijou with his eyes. At this, Bijou, standing beside him, took over in a calm, steady tone. Standing with his hands neatly folded, he looked like a prophet who had come to deliver a revelation.

“The children who came here today are boys cared for by someone I am indebted to on Edge Street.”

Indebted, huh? Considering the trashed vehicle and the fired rounds, that was an incredibly polite way of putting it. Baron kept his mouth shut, only letting his eyes dart around. All the while, Bijou’s explanation continued. The several violent incidents that occurred after his first meeting with the Teacher were vaguely omitted. Perhaps to him, armed conflict wasn’t a particularly important event anyway. Bijou quickly moved to the main point.

“We escaped the pursuit, but it seems the person who helped us was taken in our stead. They said they would return him if I am brought to them.”

Gasps and sighs could be heard from various spots. It was distress over the fact that young children had been helplessly stripped of their guardian. Baron crossed his arms, feeling a strange sense of dissonance. Then, Bijou announced the most important part.

“Therefore, I intend to head to Edge Street tomorrow for the hostage exchange.”

A very brief silence mingled with the sunlight in the glass greenhouse. Shortly after, a low, buzzing commotion grew in size. As if understanding the current confusion, Bijou did not calm them immediately but gave them a moment of space.

The same smile he had shown the Teacher—the man who had tried to sell him out—now played on his lips. The residents, quite shaken, whispered among themselves before Peter, the oldest among them, stood up. His manner was unfailingly polite.

“Mr. Bijou gave us all a new life and a home; he taught us how important it is to love others. If such a person as Mr. Bijou wishes to sacrifice himself for someone else…”

He let out a dry cough from his wrinkled, haggard face before finishing his sentence.