The Stone Flower

Credits

Official translation from Grimoire NieR: Revised Edition.
Written by Jun Eishima
Concept by cavia/Yoko Taro
Translated by Casey Loe

Characters

• Halua
• Emil

The Stone Flower ver.1.00

See also: The Stone Flower/Fan Translation

Humanity hopes as its sacrifice despairs.
Crimson blooms in absent eyes.

My afternoon dreams are always warm and bright.

I dream of holding my kitten. Playing tag on the lawn. I dream of Dad's piggyback rides, Mom's fresh-baked sweets, and greenhouse planters lined up in neat little rows. These dreams are nothing like the ones I experience in the dead of night or before the first rays of dawn. Whenever I sleep in the afternoon, I'm struck by how strange it all is. I see things I never remember in my waking moments, dream of things long since gone—and yet somehow, they're still so vivid.

Two years have passed since the days of which I now dream. Dad and Mom are gone—killed in an accident. The kitten might be alive, but it sure isn't a kitten anymore. And some other family is probably living in the house with the neat rows of planters. All I have left is Emil, the boy I played tag with on the lawn. He's my twin brother, and the only one who stayed with me for these ten long years.

"Are you awake, Halua?"

"Oh, Teacher..." I respond as her words take my attention. The warm memories have vanished, and I no longer have any idea what I've been dreaming about.

"Goodness, you're covered in sweat! Maybe it's time we swapped that comforter for a lighter summer blanket."

Teacher takes a handkerchief from her pocket and mops the perspiration from my brow and neck. Then she reaches over and gently shakes Emil, who is sleeping beside me. "Wake up, Emil. It's time for your special treat."

"What is it today?" I ask.

"Alphabet cookies and cocoa," she replies. Again? It's always either alphabet cookies, rice crackers, or sponge cake. But of course, this is an institution; there's no mother here to cook up some new surprise each day. It was stupid of me to ask in the first place. I mean, kids love snacks, so just call it a "special treat" and they'll be happy, right? The adults here think they know us so well, and I learned long ago to just sit back and play my role of the easily pleased child.

But unlike me, Emil still acts like a child. As always, he happily arranges the cookies on his plate and puzzles over which one to eat first. Finally, he selects one, pops it in his mouth, and chews happily. They aren't exactly a taste sensation, but the way Emil scarfs them down, you'd think they were every bit as delicious as the ones Mom used to make. This irritates me more than usual for some reason, and I decide to hit him with some big-sister scolding.

"Don't play with your food, Emil."

"Aw, come on!"

"Also, you're spelling that word wrong. It has an E in it."

At this facility, all the classes are in Japanese instead of our native tongue. In fact, it's been over two years since we last had a lesson in the language of our birth, so it's no surprise Emil's spelling is beginning to suffer.

"Here, let me fix it," I say as I move an E-shaped cookie from my plate to Emil's. His mouth curves into a wide smile as I do.

"You're a wonderful sister, Halua."

Teacher smiles at me from behind her mug. At snack time, she always sits and chats with us as she drinks her coffee. She also eats meals with us, reads us bedtime stories, and wakes us in the morning, just like a real mother. "You know," she says suddenly, "I was an only child, and I can't help but envy you two a little."

Really? Does she actually mean that? Every boring day in this institution is exactly the same, and we haven't so much as set foot outside for two years now. What could she possibly envy about a situation like that?

I mean, this place is just strange. I've always loved to read, so I know from stories that kids without families are supposed to go to orphanages—and I also know what orphanages are supposed to be like. They're big, school-like buildings that are so full of kids they have rows of beds in each room, and everyone eats together in noisy dining halls.

Now, the first building we were in actually was full of kids our age, and we did sleep six to a room and eat together in a big dining hall. It probably was an actual orphanage, even if the kids in our room were constantly disappearing and being replaced with new ones. But eventually Emil and I were moved to a different building and given private rooms. At the time, they told us it was because we spoke a different language, but looking back on it, that doesn't make much sense. I mean, we already knew some Japanese, and it's not like the classes here are in our native language anyway.

Oh, and the so-called classes? Also weird. They're not like the ones we used to have at school. We just sit in front of a machine and answer questions without any kind of lesson. Sometimes the classes are actually more like games than tests, as if we're doing all of this just for fun. We also don't ever see other kids here—just a bunch of grown-ups wearing the same white coats as Teacher. Honestly, the more I think about this place, the less sense it makes.

I leap to my feet, and Teacher looks at me quizzically. I circle around her and bury my face in her back.

"Mommy," I say.

I sense her confusion giving way to a smile. She turns around, taking her chair with her, and embraces me tightly. "What's gotten into you, sweetheart?" she asks as she strokes my hair. In that moment, she actually does remind me of Mom, even if only a tiny bit.

"Hey, no fair!" cries Emil, who clearly wants in on the action. Teacher beckons him over with a chuckle and folds us both into her embrace.

You're on our side, right, Teacher? You're not like all the other grown-ups. We can trust you. Right?

I bury my face deeper into her well-ironed lab coat, which smells faintly of medicine. It's not how Mom used to smell at all, and I wonder if that's the reason I don't trust her completely.

Or maybe I just suspect that on some level, she isn't different from the other grown-ups at all.

"Do you love me, Teacher?" I ask.

"Of course, Halua. I love both you and Emil very much."

Then be on our side. Never betray us. Protect us!

As I rub my forehead against her lab coat, I silently repeat those words over and over in my mind until they disappear into a blur of endless sound.

After our evening temperature check and a single chapter of a bedtime story, another long, boring day comes to its uninspiring conclusion. Unlike me, Emil really seems to enjoy life here. He counts the clouds that float by the window, plunks random keys on the piano in the corner of our room, and scribbles the same pictures over and over on drawing paper. He has no concern this orphanage isn't like the ones from our storybooks, and no fear that something bad might happen. Instead, he's completely and beautifully innocent.

This is simultaneously a source of worry and a relief. While I want Emil to be happy, I sometimes panic about how vulnerable it makes him, which means the only choice is for me to remain vigilant for both of us. Ideally, I'd like to keep track of what "class" we take each day, what we eat and drink, who we talk to, and what we discuss. Then I'd like to write all that stuff down so I don't forget—but I can't, because I know they're watching us.

Here's how I know: One day, shortly after we arrived, I feigned an eye injury as a kind of experiment. Whenever I was alone in my room, I'd grimace in pain and rub at my left eye, but when I was with Emil or Teacher, I left it alone. The next day, my left eye was given a thorough examination, despite the fact I'd pretended it hurt only when there was no one else in the room with me.

"Emil? You awake?"

He mutters something vague in a half-asleep state, so I reach out my hand to take his. When we were first transferred here, we were assigned to different rooms. I told them we couldn't sleep without each other, but they didn't believe me. Things only got better when I sobbed through the night, at which point they finally let us share a bed.

Be careful, Emil. You can't trust the grown-ups.

I can't speak this aloud, because someone is probably listening. But I think it as hard as I can while I squeeze Emil's hand, all the while wishing I had the ability to say it telepathically.

Today feels uneasy from the moment I wake up, and when Teacher says we'll be given a medical exam instead of our usual morning class, the unease turns to dread. Nothing good ever comes from an exam; kids in the other building disappeared after having them, and we got moved here right after ours. Is that what's happening now? Are Emil and I about to be torn away from Teacher?

"What's wrong, Halua? Are you not feeling well?"

Teacher is staring at me with a worried expression. She puts a hand on my forehead to check for a fever, and it feels so good I want to burst into tears.

"Teacher, I..."

I almost say I don't want to be sent anywhere or have anything done to me, but I can't bring myself to finish the sentence. There's still some small part of me that doesn't trust Teacher, even after calling her Mommy and letting her comfort me. I'm just not sure I can confide this to her.

The exam starts with a blood test, which isn't a big deal. It only hurts a little, and you can tell exactly what's coming. When they stick cold suction cups all over my body and hook me up to a machine, however, I start to lose it—and when they stuff me into a weird mechanical box, all I can think about is how much I want to yank everything off and run screaming from the building. Meanwhile, Emil just keeps smiling and humming to himself like he's having the time of his life.

Just when I don't think I can stand another second, the examination ends. Usually this is the point where we're sent back to our room, but once they get all the suction cups and wires off, they order me into the room next door without even letting me change out of my gown. To make things worse, I notice Emil is gone.

I stop moving because I don't like this at all, but a woman in a white coat opens the door and shoos me inside. She's mean about it too—not at all like Teacher—and before I know it, I'm standing in a large room with weird patterns on the floor and walls. A single chair lurks in the middle with a crowd of grown-ups gathered around it. One of them tells me to sit down, and before I can even respond, another one picks me up and lifts me onto it. It's metal and cold.

"I don't wish to alarm you," begins one of the adults, "but we detected a serious illness during your medical examination."

The voice is gentle, but I can't tell which adult is speaking. At some point during all this they put a blindfold on me, and when I try to remove it, I find they've restrained my arms and legs as well.

"We must perform a surgical extraction before it's too late."

That's a lie. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm not in any pain. I don't have a cough, or a fever, or a stomachache. I'm fine.

"Where's Emil?" I demand.

"We sent him back to your room to prevent the infection from spreading. He's fine, I promise. No need to worry."

Oh, but infecting him is the last thing I'm worried about. I need to get him out of here, and I need to do it now. I shout Emil's name at the top of my lungs, but I immediately feel despair—the fact none of them try to cover my mouth means my voice can't be heard outside this room.

I smell antiseptic. I feel a cold touch on my arm, then a painful prick. They've injected me with something. It's enough to make me stop screaming for a moment, at which point I start paying attention to what the grown-ups are saying.

"What is this, the sixth one? I'm getting tired of disposing of these test subjects."

"I'm confident we'll get it right this time."

"If we can just preserve a bit of sentience..."

Wait, I'm the sixth? The sixth what? And what is it they're trying to preserve?

"If she doesn't pan out, we still have the brother. As a sibling, he should prove a suitable substitute."

At that, the blood in my body goes from cold to freezing. They're going to kill us—they're going to kill Emil.

Save us, Teacher. Save Emil!

As I imagine this most empty of hopes, darkness comes up and swallows me whole.

I hear a voice saying my name. It isn't Mom, or Dad, or Emil, or Teacher, which means it has to be one of the other grown-ups. God, I'm so tired of these stupid classes. Still, at least they're better than the medical exams they...

Wait. Didn't I have a medical exam today? Right, and then I went back to my room and... No, I didn't go back. I couldn't go back! I couldn't!

My memories come flooding back, and I wake with a gasp. I'm still in the room with the weird patterns on the floor and walls, but there's something different about it now.

"Halua? Can you hear me?"

I turn to the source of the voice, but no one's there.

"Over here."

The voice is coming from a different direction now, but when I turn, there isn't anyone there either. Apparently I can hear their voices, not see them. The moment I realize this, I also notice what's changed about the room.

"Incredible! The procedure was a success!"

Ignoring the voices, I look down and see how far away the floor is. No wonder the room seems strange! My first thought is that I've been set on some tall object, but I quickly realize that isn't the case when my eyes land on a pair of skeletal feet that look like something out of an anatomy book. I see arms the color of withered wood, and a torso I can't make out because something is wrapped around it.

What am I looking at?

I reach out to remove the wrapping and immediately freeze, because the moment I do so, the arms move. They move. I slowly raise my hands, and the strange ones do the same. I open my palm and bend the fingers one by one, watching as the hand copies my every movement.

No. Oh no. This can't be happening.

The voice from nowhere is speaking again, saying things like "Experimental Weapon Number 6", and "hope for humanity," and other nonsense, but I ignore it. I then attempt to pull myself to my feet and realize I can't move, which is when everything finally hits home: the wrapping is encircling me, and this thing is my body.

No! It can't be true! It CAN'T!

I struggle wildly against my bonds, flailing arms and legs as hard as I can. I want to escape from this place—from this body. The voice from nowhere changes when I do that, taking on a more comforting tone, but I couldn't give less of a damn.

Shut up! Shut up shut up SHUT UUUUP!

I pound against the wall with all my strength, causing cracks to race across its surface. "Stop that!" the panicked voice orders, but I have no intention of obeying. I strike the wall again, and the pain and reverberation dispel any last doubts from my mind. This is my body. These monstrous arms and legs now belong to me.

I raise trembling hands to my face and probe it gently. I can tell instantly that what awaits me there isn't the face I'm used to—and in fact might not even be a face. All I know for sure is I'm no longer human.

I can never see Emil again. If he looks at me, he'll run away screaming. He's always been such a scaredy-cat.

The thought of Emil reminds me of the words I'd heard before the procedure, the ones about how "a sibling could prove a suitable substitute." The person in the white coat had also said I was the sixth one, and the voice a moment ago called me Experimental Weapon Number 6. All of which means they've done this to five other kids already, maybe even the ones who disappeared from the other building. In fact, I bet any kid they deem suitable for experimentation is separated out and transferred to a different building. But apparently, I'm special. I'm the first success. I'm going to be the prototype for all future experimental weapons, and since my twin brother is equally as suitable as I am, that means...

Emil's face flashes before my eyes—his guileless, obedient face. I realize then and there I have to save him, and the thought infuses me with wild, uninhibited power.

I tear free of my restraints and rise to my feet. I kick open the door in the corner of the room, but my body is too large to fit through a human-size opening, so I pound at the wall around it. Alarms blare. Metallic shutters begin sliding down the walls. When I instinctively reach out to stop them, some unseen force pushes my hands away. They must have some sort of special property that protects them, which reminds me that I'm a weapon now—a monster possessed of such power that it can smash through walls of solid rock.

No one would be so stupid as to create such a thing without taking precautions; wild animals must be kept chained and caged.

Suddenly, the room goes dark as they kill the lights. The alarms stop, leaving the room bathed in silence. Convinced I've been successfully contained, they canceled the red alert. I reach for the shutters again and see a burst of blue sparks as the repelling force surges through my entire body. But I won't give up. I will protect Emil no matter what. I won't let go!

As creaking sounds emanate from every part of my body, a sharp pain surges through me. The world goes white, and I feel something swell up and burst deep within my soul. But once it does, I'm suddenly light as a cloud. The repelling force is gone, leaving me able to move freely, and the world is no longer dark or blinding white, but instead perfectly normal.

Alarms start clamoring again. My senses return. The wall has crumbled. I lumber outside, but no one is waiting to stop me; likely they never imagined I'd make it out of the room. They may not have even expected I could tear off my bindings—I remember the panic in the speaker's voice as he commanded me to stop.

More shutters await at the entrance to the passageway, but compared with the last ones, they may as well have been made of paper. I send them flying with a kick and continue on my way. I have to destroy this facility and everything inside it. That's the only way to stop them from turning Emil into a monster. I have to erase everything related to the experimental weapon program.

A violent power wells up within me. When I release it, it manifests as blades that hack apart everything in my way. Glaring at a wall summons a ball of flame that burns it to ash. I can now simply wish for a thing to be destroyed in the most fascinating of ways and it happens. In losing myself, it seems I've gained an inhuman level of power—but who exactly did they intend for me to use it against? And did they think giving it to an obedient child would make that power theirs to command?

White-coated adults scramble through smoke and rubble seeking a means of escape, but I permit none to find it. I grab every one I see, squeezing them to a pulp like a piece of overripe fruit. But where is Emil? And Teacher? Could she have led him to safety? No, she wouldn't have done that. Teacher knows what happens here; she's been raising us to be turned into monsters. She's just another grown-up performing the role of kindly caretaker to which she's been assigned.

A moment later, I turn a corner to find her standing before me in that familiar white coat, and suddenly I remember how badly I wanted to trust her. I remember how happy it made me to hear she loved me, and how much I enjoyed the sound of her voice as she read to us.

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. It sounds like she's saying my name. It sounds like she's saying she's sorry.

But I do not accept.

It feels like I'm losing myself in my anger. Like I'm being pulled apart. Like something is trying to blot me out. I unload with everything I have, sending a brilliant white coat flying across the room to a new life as a red stain against the wall.

Liar! I hate you!

I cry. I scream. No sound emerges and no tears fall, but I continue all the same. At some point in my rampage, I see my face reflected in a piece of tempered glass. It's a sphere with red eyes, and every bit the monster I expect to see. Yet strangely, it strikes me not as sad, but comical. This face is not the source of my sorrow, nor my tears.

Run, Emil. Run somewhere far away, somewhere there are no grown-ups in white coats. Somewhere there's no Teacher. Run to a place where there isn't anyone at all.

How much time has passed? In a way, it feels like it's been days since I woke in this body, but it also feels like mere seconds. The facility grounds are nothing but rubble as far as the eye can see. How much more will I need to destroy? How much until it's enough?

"Halua."

The voice is Emil's, and at first I think I must have imagined it; how could he possibly use such a name on a monster? But when I turn to look, it's unmistakably him. He's holding out his hand to me, a hint of sadness on his face. And forgetting who I've become, I run to him and begin sobbing, telling him that we need to run, that we need to find a place where the two of us can be safe.

Or at least, that's what I intend to do. But my legs don't move. Somehow, they've turned to stone. And not just my legs, but my entire body. It's all turning to stone. I realize I can free myself from this petrification if I want; it's not very powerful. But instead...

"Halua, I..."

Emil has been turned into a weapon just like me. His body may not have changed, but he's been given terrible eyes that can turn whatever he looks at to stone. I realize now I've failed to save him—failed at the one task I wanted more than anything. This causes the feeling to come surging back. Pull me apart. Blot me out. Is it anger? Sadness? I'm not sure.

"I'm really sorry."

It's okay. It doesn't matter now.

I smile, or at least I think I do—but my face has already been turned to stone, and I'm not sure if it's capable of smiling anyway. All that matters is the knowledge my existence as a person is about to end. I wonder what colors I'll dream in once I'm turned to stone.

"I'm sorry, Halua. But everyone says you're too powerful. They say it's too dangerous unless I seal you away."

It hurts to see you like this, Emil. So please do it. Don't let it wear off. Don't ever let me wake up again.

The last thing I hear is the sound of Emil calling my name, and then that too fades away as I give myself over to a cold and unforgiving slumber.