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Koushi helped support Kiri as they walked out of the back door of the steelworks. Hinako walked ahead of them, carrying her sickle.
It was impossible to tell the time; the cloud cover was too thick. There was a spooky, ominous silence all around. There was nothing left of those who had fought in the battle but ghosts and echoes.
Hinako lacked shoes, but she’d wrapped her feet in cloth to protect them from the worst of the debris. Pockets of smoke and other pollutants made it hard to breathe. It looked like it would rain at any moment.
“You could just leave me behind,” Kiri muttered, her face lowered. She limped along, half-carried by Koushi.
“The city is still dangerous. If we dawdle, we might burn to death,” Koushi said.
Kiri could barely support her own weight, and if Koushi let his guard down, they would both fall.
There was a factory with a roof that was burned black and caved in. A steel tower, bent into an impossible shape, lay collapsed in the middle of the street. Machine parts were scattered all around. Canals overflowed; all the streets were wet. A large tree lay uprooted against a smoking chimney. All the destruction had beaten the industrial area into a new shape.
And yet, things could have been worse. If a fire had swept through this place, there would have been little left. Koushi wondered what would happen to the people who lived here. They had nowhere to go, even if they fled the city.
Koushi’s grip on Kiri tightened. If only he had acted sooner. He wished he had done more to help. He was able-bodied and should have been able to do something, but it was too late now. He walked at a measured pace, supporting Kiri as best he could.
Hinako walked bravely. The loose fabric of her nightclothes tangled around her ankles, but that didn’t slow her down much. The golden sheen of the sickle contrasted sharply with the grimy darkness of the city in ruins. The otherworldly shine reminded Koushi of the Millennium Comet. The Millennium Comet had led him and Touko through the underground passage to the forest.
Hinako looked very much like the Millennium Comet. She appeared small and frail. She shouldn’t be holding their father’s weapon. It made her look weaker, not stronger.
Kiri hung her head limply and stayed silent. She managed to stumble forward on unsteady feet with Koushi’s help. Like Hinako, she’d wrapped her feet in bandages and spare cloth. Her feet were still bleeding from before, though, and the damage was only getting worse.
“Hinako, let’s stop for a moment,” Koushi called out. He glanced up at the roof of a nearby factory. The building itself was undamaged aside from a few scorch marks. He sat Kiri down against a solid wall to check her injured feet.
Kiri didn’t react to Koushi probing her feet. She tried to sit up straight, bracing herself with her branch arm. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. Kiri’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Hinako moved to support her branch arm.
Hinako frowned. “She says to leave her here.”
“No,” Koushi said. He shook his head. He was too out of breath to say anything more.
Where is Kureha now? Koushi wondered. Is she still in the canals? Or did the Water Clan tell her to go somewhere else? Kureha had been cast out of Okibi Estate after delivering a letter from his mother. She’d tried to help him, and Kira had been her friend. Kun also tried to help, even though he was a Spider. He’d stayed behind with Touko and the others to try and find the special insects that the Spiders used to make themselves immune to combustion in the presence of fire.
After Koushi had left Hinako with Kiri, he’d been so worn-out that he hadn’t moved for awhile. Kun could have left him alone and gone looking for Touko or Akira, but he hadn’t. Kureha had told them to hide, but Kun had never met Kureha before. He had no reason to listen to her. He’d had a million reasons to leave Koushi, but he’d stayed. He must have had a reason, but Koushi didn’t know it.
Hinako blinked and looked up. Following her gaze, Koushi saw a Fire Hunter’s dog picking its way through rubble. The dog was young and on the small side, with glossy, mottled short fur, drooping ears and a white-tipped tail. The dog scented the air and then looked in their direction. There were no Fire Hunters around. Professor Hitou followed after the dog, limping slightly.
“Oh? Oh my, to meet here of all places,” the professor said, his eyes wide. Always gaunt, Professor Hitou now appeared positively skeletal.
The dog sniffed at Koushi’s feet, then moved to Hinako and Kiri. The dog licked Hinako on the cheek and gave them a friendly bark.
“Are you all right?” Professor Hitou asked. “Where have you been? I’m surprised you’re still alive.” He gave Koushi, Hinako and Kiri a critical once-over. What he saw troubled him. He rubbed the back of his neck in irritation. He held a misshapen bag, clutching it under one arm.
“Professor Hitou, why are you here?” Koushi asked.
The professor didn’t answer his question. He crouched down to check if Hinako was injured, and then he took Kiri’s pulse.
Kiri leaned motionless against the wall.
“Is this a Tree Person?” Professor Hitou asked. “I don’t think I can carry her on my own. We’ll need to treat her injuries first, in any case.” Releasing Kiri’s wrist, he rummaged through the contents of his bag. Then he pointed toward the alley opposite them with one bony finger.
“Hmm, all I have are bandages. Go to that corner, and then walk around the back of the water storage tank to the processing plant. There’s a temporary aid station there. Get some medical supplies, especially disinfectant. You’re the fastest, right?”
Koushi nodded, though it took a moment for the professor’s brisk instructions to sink in. He let Hinako know that he’d be right back, and then he went in search of the aid station.
His hearing was clearing up and his clothes were nearly dry. He was grateful for that as he turned toward the water processing plant. He’d spent too much of the day wet and cold.
There were a lot of people working at the aid station, so it was easy to find. It was set up outside a factory. The doors to the factory were wide open. The dead were laid out near the wall in neat rows. All the bodies were wrapped in shrouds. Dogs milled about, outnumbering people roughly two to one.
Academy professors were directing most of the foot traffic and handing out supplies. Koushi recognized them by their expensive uniforms.
Several of the professors recognized Koushi as well. One waved to him and asked, “Did you come to help? What happened to the Okibi family?”
Other professors came closer and asked Koushi different questions, all talking over each other. They carried slates and chalk in their hands. Koushi had only ever seen those used by elementary school students before.
“Excuse me, I have to bring disinfectant and bandages right away,” Koushi said. He couldn’t waste time here.
The professors kept asking their questions and seemed not to hear him.
A transport vehicle turned onto the street and distracted the professors. It stopped in front of the open factory doors. Its enclosed cargo bed was full. The transport vehicle drove precariously over the uneven ground. The driver would usually be assigned to a black cart, if there were any to deploy.
“Hey, how about putting the dogs on that?” a professor asked, gesturing to the cargo bed.
“Would they get on? They never listen to us.”
The driver gave the professors a sour look.
“Fire Hunters can’t do their jobs alone,” a professor said. “They need their dogs. We’ve had several requests to bring them already.”
“Dogs can’t ride loose in the cargo bed,” the driver said. “They’ll get hurt. It’ll be faster if they run to where they need to go.”
“Then think of another way,” the professor said. “The dogs won’t obey us if we tell them to run, and there aren’t any Fire Hunters here at the moment.”
While the driver and the professors argued, Koushi spotted a box containing medical supplies and reached for it. Bowing his head to the teachers who had their backs turned to him, he retrieved his supplies. Then he ran back to Kiri and the others.
Hinako and Kiri hadn’t moved since Koushi had left. Professor Hitou was applying bandages to Kiri’s bleeding feet.
“Ah, you were quick,” Professor Hitou said. “Good, good.” His voice was hoarse, but he sounded good-natured. He’d gone out of his way to help Koushi in the past. Koushi still found his tone incongruous in this situation. It would make more sense if he sounded worried or angry.
Koushi set down the medical supplies he’d taken and then helped Professor Hitou clean Kiri’s wounds with disinfectant. The professor took more bandages out of his bag. Every time he reached into the bag, it made a curious rattling sound.
Hinako hugged Kiri’s arm while she was being treated. Kiri was mostly unresponsive. The floppy-eared dog stayed close to Hinako and looked around curiously.
“I found some of the other Academy professors,” Koushi said. “They had a lot of questions, but I didn’t take the time to answer them. Um—are you recording the registration numbers of the fallen Fire Hunters? Every professor I saw was carrying a slate with writing on it.”
Were the Academy professors recording the number of Fire Hunter casualties? That fell under the purview of the Guardian Gods, which meant that the professors were cooperating with the Guardian Gods in some way.
Professor Hitou might be helping the Guardian Gods, too.
The professor coughed, and then he reached into his bag again. “Oh, you mean this?” he asked, pulling a slate of his own out of the bag. Numbers had been carved into it, not written.
“This is for measuring distances,” Professor Hitou said, his voice calm and even. He might have been teaching an impromptu class. “The distance at which spontaneous human combustion occurs. We estimate the size of the fire from the scorch marks and damage to the roads and buildings, and then measure the distance to the burned bodies or the places stained with fat… There are fewer than ten professors working on this, even though the information is vital. Until now, we didn’t have accurate data on the distances at which spontaneous human combustion occurs. By recording these numbers now, we’ll be helping future generations. I wish that nothing like this will ever happen again, but this data will help save more people from accidental fires.”
Professor Hitou cleared his throat, then he punched his throat and pulled the skin from side to side as he coughed. “We thought to try recording the numbers on paper, but if we got too close to a fire and combusted… well, you understand the problem. And so we borrowed slates. Even if we burn up while collecting data, the slates will preserve the data.”
Koushi was at a loss for words.
Professor Hitou stuffed Kiri’s soiled bandages into his bag, then hung the slate around his neck with a string attached to two ends. He reached for Kiri’s hand and squeezed.
“Please help me lift her. I heard from your sister that you’re heading for the shrine, right? I don’t much care where you go, myself. I want to walk around as much as possible to record as many measurements as I can.”
Koushi placed Kiri’s left arm—now stripped of its branches and leaves—over his shoulder, and together with the thin teacher, they lifted Kiri upright.
Hinako watched what they were doing with concern. She patted the dog on the head to help distract herself. The dog barked energetically and wagged its tail. Then it ran down the alley.
The sun was setting. Had Roroku made it to the shrine yet? Where was Kira? Would Koushi reach the shrine before it was too late?
Kunugi should be at the bottom of the cliff near the shrine. He carried an offshoot of a living tree. Koushi got the sense that finding a living tree wouldn’t be the end of this chain of problems. He didn’t want Professor Hitou to go to the shrine with him, Kiri, and Hinako; it was too dangerous. If something terrible happened, Hinako would probably be able to escape, but the professor would not.
As they passed one of many collapsed buildings, Koushi heard the dogs clustered at the aid station barking in the distance.
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