Truancy Origins (12 page)

None of his nights had been untroubled for the past few days, and now that it was bedtime again, Umasi was sure that the ominous nightmares would return. And yet, oddly enough, he found that he simply didn't care anymore. Maybe it was because he had enough to worry about while awake, or maybe he'd finally begun to embrace the nightmares, horrible though they might be. Whatever the reason, it was almost as though he had become numb to nocturnal emotions. For a moment, Umasi idly wondered if he was going crazy himself, just as he suspected Zen was. Then he nodded off to sleep.

It came as no surprise to Umasi when he opened his eyes to find himself floating in perfect darkness, save for a strange, faint glow that seemed to issue forth from his skin, revealing swirling smoke all around him. Umasi examined his luminous self interestedly, and barely reacted when a shadowy figure, revealed by Umasi's own glow, began approaching him.

“So, you've finally found some nerve,” the silhouetted figure observed. “That's good. Now that you've got it, why don't we have a straight conversation for once?”

“Who are you?” Umasi asked calmly.

The figure laughed faintly, but did not answer.

“I think you know who I am. Really, I'm surprised that you've tolerated me for this long, Umasi,” the boy said. “Your brother grew out of me a long time ago. You should've been rid of me years back. After all, you always were the more dangerous of the two.”

“Me? More dangerous than Zen?” Umasi asked.

“Oh yes—with you, innocence and goodness are just shoddy coats of paint over a canvas of menace,” the boy said. “At the core, you're no less perilous than your brother is. More so, in fact.”

“No.”

“Denial. That's childish. The same blood flows in your veins, and the same pride inflates your heads, whether you flaunt it or not.” The boy chuckled, and Umasi thought he caught a glimpse of familiar features beneath the shadow. “Don't you feel the blistering of your pride every time you are humiliated? Don't you fight a losing war against your own outrage every time you are treated unjustly?”

Umasi gritted his teeth, but did not respond.

“Not to mention,” the figure added, “that you're both horribly unpredictable—insanity runs strongly in your veins. It must be a family heritage.”

“Insanity?”

“How else to explain all this?” The boy laughed. “Am I not proof that
you're completely out of your mind . . . though admittedly in a very different way from your twin?”

“What are you?”

“You sound frustrated. Well, that's progress, I suppose.” The boy chuckled. “Am I making you angry, Umasi? Don't worry—when you try to repress emotions, anger is always the first to slip through. Your temper tells me that I'm doing my job.”

“What are you!” Umasi shouted again, louder.

“I am you, Umasi, and I am weak.” The shadow spun around and began walking away. “In the end, either you will conquer me . . . or I will conquer you.”

S
everal days had passed since Umasi confronted Zen. In that time winter had officially arrived, bringing with it the first snow of the year. Of course, snow in the City rarely amounted to much. It had to fall in extraordinary amounts to even accumulate on the streets, and the City's snowplows were so effective that Umasi had never seen a blizzard so terrible that the roads couldn't be cleared for school the next day.

And so while Umasi sat at his desk alone in the room he shared with Zen, the snow had already come and gone, leaving only chilly air behind. Absentmindedly, Umasi scribbled down another answer upon a sheet of lined paper. Homework had become an almost calming ritual for him, as the problems it presented now seemed so trivial when compared with his real problems.

Realizing that he'd made an error with one answer, Umasi hastily erased it with the back of his pencil. Umasi smiled as he swept the resulting shavings away. If only it were so easy to erase mistakes from his life. Umasi continued working, mentally preparing himself for what he knew was coming. Earlier that day, Zen had told him to meet him on the roof of the mansion. The deadline for the proposed meeting was drawing close, and Umasi had felt a need to gather his thoughts.

He knew what Zen was going to ask, and he had been anticipating it for days. As Zen undoubtedly had spent his time preparing his plans for the Truancy, Umasi had spent his time working up the resolve to tell Zen no once and for all. He had imagined every possible argument or plea that Zen might make, and was ready to counter them all. Umasi knew that this would be perhaps the most important decision that he would ever make in his life, and he had already made his choice. In the past, Zen had never failed to drag Umasi along into his plans, but this time Umasi was determined that things would be different.

With that thought, Umasi pressed his pencil down onto the paper so hard that the lead shattered. Sighing, he swept the pieces into the garbage can and glanced over at the clock on his desk. It was now or never, Umasi realized as he rose from his chair. He would have to face Zen sooner or later, and he'd decided that
sooner
would be preferable, before things got worse
later.

Realizing that it would be freezing up on the roof, Umasi reached out
automatically for the coat pegs as he opened the door. His hand latched on to an olive green jacket, which looked rather ugly but felt warm enough. As Umasi made his way towards the roof, he shut his eyes, feeling calmer than he thought he would. Maybe it was all the preparation and self-assurances, but whatever the reason, he simply didn't worry about what was coming next. He knew that he was strong enough for this.

This time, he would stand his ground.

 

I
just wanted you to know that everything is ready. All the preparations are complete,” Zen said as he lurked in the shadow of a large vent. “The Truancy will be born tonight.”

Umasi stared out at the City skyline. The setting sun cast vibrant red and gold hues over the varied buildings, and the windows caught the rays and reflected them like a thousand blinding gemstones. Umasi took a while to respond, feeling the warm glow of the sun wash over his face, countering the chilly winter winds.

“Then I wish it good luck, and hope that its creator doesn't get killed or imprisoned in the process,” Umasi replied at last, his eyes fixated upon the sunset.

“Is that all?” Zen demanded.

“Should there be more?”

“Apparently not,” Zen murmured. “So you're really not coming with me after all.”

“No, I'm not,” Umasi said as the cold winds ruffled his short hair. “I'm no killer.”

“And you won't even come for my sake?” Zen asked almost pleadingly, a tone that Umasi had never heard from his brother before. “You won't even have to fight if you don't want to.”

Umasi felt his gut churn. Zen was really going out of his way to accommodate him; he genuinely wanted them to stick together in spite of everything. But Umasi already knew that would never work. No matter how much it hurt the both of them, this was the way it had to be.

“I'm sorry, Zen. I sympathize with your motive, but I can't support your proposed methods,” Umasi replied firmly. “There's no reason that you have to fight, either. It's not too late—you can turn around and walk away. Just forget about it all. Live a normal life.”

“A normal life?” Zen scoffed. “Here, life is whatever they tell us it is. On a whim they can teach us a fabricated history, change the norms of society, whenever and however they want.”

Umasi was silent. After all, there was truth behind those uncomfortable words.

“You can't talk me out of this, Umasi,” Zen warned. “I know that you pride yourself on being meek and weak, but I'm no doormat. Imagine how I feel—finding out that everything I've ever believed has been a lie . . . finding out that I was used and betrayed, betrayed from the day that I was born . . . and betrayed right up until this moment, by my own brother, no less.”

Zen swung his head around to glare at Umasi, who could feel his brother's gaze burning into the back of his head. Umasi shut his eyes and did not respond. He couldn't even begin to imagine how to explain to Zen that he knew
exactly
how he felt.

“We are all forced to endure unspeakable injustice, and now that the two of us know it for what it is, we have a chance to show everyone else!” Zen argued. “Open your eyes and look at the City! We hold its entire fate in our hands. Together, we can change this City for the better!”

“Having the power to change the City doesn't give us the right to,” Umasi said, his eyes still shut behind their glasses.

“No, it gives us the obligation to,” Zen countered.

“You don't know that you'll succeed.”

“I won't find out until I try.”

“Then try, Zen,” Umasi said, opening his eyes in time to see a streak of dark purple tinge the skyline. “I won't stop you. But I won't help you.”

Zen's nostrils flared, and the shadows concealing him lengthened as the sun slipped farther over the horizon.

“I trusted you, Umasi,” Zen said. “Even after finding that the whole City had betrayed me, I trusted you. Only one person did I dare turn to . . . only to find that
again
I am betrayed.” Zen laughed, and Umasi shivered as a particularly chilly gust of wind washed over him. “I guess I have to thank you, Brother. You've shown me that I can't count on anyone else. I will wait no longer. If I alone am to be the first Truant, then so be it.”

“You're out of your mind,” Umasi murmured.

“Am I?” Zen wondered. “Perhaps you're right. But if this is madness, then I prefer it to the delusions of sanity. And if you had any pride, you would agree.”

“It's not a matter of pride.”

“No, not for you it isn't, I suppose.” Zen examined Umasi, as if suddenly seeing him in a new light. “You're
scared.
”

“Not just for myself,” Umasi said defensively. “I'm worried about
you.
”

“Not a pacifist, just spineless after all,” Zen muttered, now addressing himself. “It was a mistake to try to involve him. He hasn't got the guts for this.”

“You don't have to do this, Zen,” Umasi pleaded. “Think of the danger, the odds you're going up against.”

“It's better to risk death, serving my own will,” Zen said quietly, “than to live this life in invisible chains.”

“You're willing to die over this?”

“And kill over it too.”

“You're mad at me, aren't you?”

“Now, why would I be mad at you?” Zen asked sarcastically.

“It's not just because I'm not going with you.” Umasi insisted. “You're . . . resentful about how I've always done better, been happier, in school. You've always been.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Zen said coldly. “If you ask me, all that study has addled your wits. Stick to crunching numbers, Umasi. You're good at reading books, not people.”

“You don't mean that.”

“And you obviously don't know me,” Zen snarled. “To be honest, I prefer it that way.”

That ended the conversation, and Zen stormed off the roof. Umasi, however, lingered, watching the last rays of sunlight slip over the horizon as the whole City was wrapped up in the darkness of night.

 

U
masi was worried about what Zen's manners would be like at the dinner table that night, but needn't have been. Zen was unusually upbeat, as though their tense exchange on the roof had never happened at all. Umasi wasn't naïve enough to believe that Zen was being genuinely friendly, but he was still glad for the opportunity to have a civil conversation with his brother. In fact, as the meal progressed Umasi found himself increasingly eager to go along with Zen's act.

“Greens?” Umasi asked Zen.

“Let's do an exchange.”

The Mayor claimed to believe in a balanced diet, though in practice what he really meant seemed to be “the more green stuff, the more balance.” As a result, there was a great variety of greens on the dining table, almost enough to conceal the platters of meat. But even with such a wide selection, Umasi instantly knew that Zen would want the bowl of string beans, while Zen in turn passed him a platter of spinach. As they made the exchange, the Mayor looked at them both with interest.

“Have you boys been practicing reading each other's minds?” the Mayor asked, smiling.

“Hardly,” Zen said. “You don't have to dine with Umasi that often to memorize his tastes. They're just that predictable.”

“So are yours, Zen.” Umasi raised an eyebrow.

“I don't deny it.” Zen smirked, devouring a string bean whole.

“Well,” the Mayor said, “I'm glad that you two are getting along so well. I'm sorry that I haven't been able to spend much time with you boys lately, but things have been very busy at work.”

Zen frowned. “Oh, I don't doubt that.”

Umasi was not pleased by this particular change of subject, and quickly grasped for something else to talk about.

“Uh . . . so . . . um . . . hey, Zen, what are you going to do after dinner?” Umasi asked.

“I don't know.” Zen glanced at Umasi. “Perhaps play a game?”

“Play a game?” the Mayor interrupted. “I know that it's a Friday, but do you really have the time for that? How's your homework coming?”

“Oh, my work is coming along just fine, Father.” Zen grinned. “I think you'll find that I've been doing a lot of research lately. On a wide variety of subjects.”

Umasi shifted uncomfortably in his seat, catching Zen's hidden meaning.

“That . . . that's nice, Zen . . .” Umasi said. “Which game were you thinking of playing?”