#i'm going to start spelling roberto's last (technically middle) name without an h from now on

[bevelle]

Where the Sun Shines: Part 1

(Part 1 of "Where the Sun Shines" from the seventh novel, The Game of Angels and Demons, is here! Within the novel, this story is divided into 3 numbered parts. This is part 1, which just so happened to end at the 10 page mark. Minimal footnotes included. Footnotes don't function correctly on mobile, so I suggest viewing this in an actual browser. Please enjoy!)

Vatican City. An independent country located on the east bank1 of the Italian Tiber River. It is the smallest country in the world, and to the 1.1 billion Catholics scattered across the world, it serves as a strong international community.

There is a department there called The Seat of the Disciples.

Within the organizations existing at the heart of the Vatican, The Nine Sacred Departments, the recognition and acknowledgment of beatification2, canonization, and existence of holy relics occur in the Canonization Department; while there is another department in which “miracle reports” are collected from around the world and then undergo strict investigations. They are then presented to a committee of eighteen cardinals who judge whether or not they should be recognized as true miracles. Among those working there are scientists, doctors, historians, and specialists in many other fields.

Roberto Nicolas was employed by the Seat of the Disciples as a cryptanalysis and folkloristics expert two years ago, and was still a novice miracle investigator.

A Monday in April, when bright rays of light poured down. It was a holiday for the Seat of the Disciples, as well. That day, out of all of the days in the year, was especially important to Roberto. In the morning, after finishing his prayers at the nearest place of worship, Roberto headed to St. Bernardo, the boarding school near his home.

St. Bernardo was Roberto’s alma mater, and was where he lived before attending the University of Rome. It was also a place overflowing with memories.

Upon entering the school grounds, he could hear the clear singing voices of the choir from a section of the building. He could see students in their navy blue uniforms and red ties running around the campus and playing soccer.

Roberto made his way to a certain part of the school.

There, in that old, beautiful library, massive mahogany bookcases filled the room, their shelves packed with an extensive collection of everything from adventure novels to philosophy books. The smells of ink and paper typical of old books wafted throughout the room. Outside a large, wide window was an elm tree, and the sunlight filtering through its leaves shone down on the reception desk brilliantly.

In the past, a single boy stood there. A beautiful library committee member with straight black hair. He was an upperclassman three years older than Roberto named Josef Lycolas Bartridge.

Roberto gently took a single book from the shelves. He then left the library and headed for the deserted, quiet place behind the building. It was in the grove of trees between the shed that housed the tools they used for annual events and the hutches they used for raising rabbits and chickens. Roberto often spent time there.

Before he entered St. Bernardo, he was in an abbey-operated juvenile facility. Before that, he lived with a man he called his "uncle" and his wife after they took Roberto from a police hospital.

Other than his name, Roberto had no memories of his childhood.

He listened to the whispers of the adults around him, and vaguely understood that he had seen something terrible, became ill, and lost his memory. However, talking about that was taboo, so Roberto didn’t even consider wanting to ask about it further.

He remembered doing things like sandplay therapy3 every day at the police hospital. Then, when his “uncle” could no longer support him, he was sent to a juvenile facility. Within the facility, which had been set up as an elementary school with strict rules, Roberto was treated as a “child with issues.”

The biggest reason for this was because he couldn’t speak to anyone.

Roberto truly couldn’t talk to anyone. Even if he tried to speak to someone, the words wouldn’t come out.

People talked to each other normally. That was odd to Roberto.

He lived as if he were wrapped up in a special membrane that prevented him from forming any kind of connection with the outside world. Whenever someone spoke to Roberto, the words would pass through that membrane as what he could only perceive as meaningless, grating noise. Because of this, Roberto was extremely shy, and without being able to speak, he was a problem child who could not fit into his surroundings.

The Sisters and Fathers taking care of the children at the institution saw Roberto as a nuisance, and to Roberto, they were also unreasonably bothersome. They desperately tried to force him to read Christ’s teachings aloud, and in accordance with their strict rules, when he was unable to, the rod was brought down on him. Each time, Roberto would react by closing his heart off even further.

However, to his good fortune, there was someone there who understood him. That person was none other than the head of the institution, an old pastor named Father Lombardo.

One day, Roberto was taken by the head priest—who was also in charge of his elementary education—to Father Lombardo’s room.

Father Lombardo’s room was very simple, with a large decorative cross and a landscape painting being all that Roberto could remember.

The pastor was wearing black glasses—he was blind. However, Roberto felt that he could see much more than what those with sight could see.

“Roberto, greet Father Lombardo,” the priest told Roberto in a strict voice. Roberto was startled, but of course, he couldn’t get any words to come out.

“Roberto, knock it off. You should be able to talk just fine. We can’t always give you special treatment. I told you that you would have to do this today.”

Roberto hung his head. The priest made an annoyed face, grabbed the back of Roberto’s head, and forcibly made him bow.

“He’s always like this. He’s truly a child with issues,” the priest said.

Father Lombardo, with his unseeing eyes, stared at Roberto. Roberto honestly felt as he if he were being looked at.

“Hm. So, in these past two years, this boy hasn’t spoken to anyone?”

“No, not at all. He shows no response to anything we tell him, and we’ve never seen him play with any of the other children, either.”

“However, that doesn’t mean he has a mental disability4. From what I’ve heard, according to the chairman, his test results are above average…”

“That’s true. However, he can’t live a normal life as a student like this. Once he’s finished elementary, I believe that he should be sent to the abbey.”

“Hm…”

There was a long silence.

Roberto was terrified under Father Lombardo’s incessant gaze, as if he were completely exposed.

“No… In the past, those at this institution with exceptional grades were given assistance in attending St. Bernardo Boarding School. We can’t exclude him from that simply because he can’t speak. If we do, it will seem like the church is discriminating against children with such problems. And… as far as I can tell, this boy, Roberto, is completely fine. I’m authorizing it: send this boy to St. Bernardo. If anything happens, I will take responsibility.”

“Are you sure? This carelessness may cause trouble for you in the future, Father.”

“It’s fine. Roberto.”

Roberto, who did not understand what kind of conversation was happening in front of him, was simply hanging his head.

“Roberto. Please make some good friends.”

Roberto’s life changed immediately after that. He left the facility and moved to the boarding school.

St. Bernardo Boarding School was a strict Catholic school full of children from very respectable families, and had a middle school section, high school section, and college prep section. While students would normally be placed in a six-person room and become accustomed to living together, for Roberto, the troubled child with good grades, as soon as he saw this, he decided on living in a small, one-person room.

Even so, being a child from an institution, he wondered if he was being watched around the school. There, he was suddenly thrown into a melting pot overflowing with young boys.

Every morning before class in a small church on campus, they would read scripture aloud and interpret it, and pray. “Merciful Jesus,” “Man of Truth,” the priests praised, and asked for all suffering to be resolved as they knelt in front of the statue of Christ. But even as he looked at the statue, Roberto couldn’t believe the scrawny, shabby man hanging from the cross was the Savior.

On top of that, he could only interpret the Bible as sounding like a journal of nonsensical daydreams. Looking back on it, it seemed like he didn’t believe in any of it back then.

As always, he was unable to speak. He also became anxious when people would address him, so even when his name was called in class, he wouldn’t respond. Not even he knew what made him so stubborn back then.

The one thing that could be said about him with certainty was that he was always alone.

That, and the other students all existed in bright, sunny place. They always talked, always laughed, and always had fun playing together like little puppies. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t enter that fun, enjoyable place.

Sometimes the boys would get lonely at the boarding school and would talk to each other about their parents. Parents seemed like very special and precious people, and being separated from them seemed to be difficult. But Roberto had no memories of his parents, and as such, he couldn’t understand their sorrow.

Faith, joy, sadness—Roberto couldn’t understand any emotion.

Still, he understood his studies, so that was a way for him to somehow spend his time at the school.

But unlike the bookworm he is now, Roberto didn’t choose specific books to read back then. There was nothing that he truly wanted to do. He simply studied because it was necessary to learn material for class.

Roberto had the labels of “child with issues” and “weird kid from an institution” stuck to him.

Perhaps that should have hurt him, but he was numb to such a feeling. He simply had the memories to not get in anyone’s way, and of hiding himself.

What interested Roberto most was the deserted, quiet area behind the library. It was in a grove of trees between the shed that housed the tools they used for annual events and the hutches they used for raising rabbits and chickens. There, Roberto had the pleasant shade of the trees, and a spot where the sun shone . During breaks, he would go there and spend time staring idly at the clouds. Only then did the inside of his heart become clear, and he could briefly experience peace.

He didn’t want to stand out, but thinking back on it now, he must have stood out as a mysterious child with heretical behavior.

He must have noticed him, too. This place is in plain sight from the reception desk in the library.

Roberto looked in the direction of the library from where he was laying under the elm tree, thought of his past self, and chuckled.

Vatican City is actually located on the west bank of the Tiber River. ↩︎

A recognition accorded by the Catholic Church of a dead person's entrance into Heaven and capacity to intercede on behalf of individuals who pray in his or her name. ↩︎

A specific form of nondirective play therapy for children using a tray of sand and toys. ↩︎

The priests and nuns refer to Roberto as 「問題のある子」- literally, a child with problems. This is similar to “problem child,” which in Japanese is a single word: 「問題児」. However, given the context and Father Lombardo’s comments, the “problem” the priests and nuns are referring to when they call him a “child with problems” is their concern over him seeming as if he has a mental disability, given that he does not speak or respond when spoken to. He’s different from a typical “problem child” in that he doesn’t act out or cause trouble; it’s more of an insensitive way of the priests and nuns saying they think something is mentally wrong with him and subsequently punishing him for it (like hitting him with the rod). ↩︎