by Yusuke Kishi
Wait a minute. This might…
“Saki, stop playing with it,” Satoru said.
“Hey, we might be able to beat team three with this.”
“What are you talking about?”
Shun looked over from the repaired disk. “Did you just think of something?”
I nodded tentatively, and told them about my idea.
“Amazing, you’re a genius.”
My ears reddened at Shun’s compliment.
“Yeah, well it’s a pretty cheap trick, but they definitely won’t be expecting it,” Satoru said. As usual, he was trying to insult me, but he couldn’t deny that the idea was good.
“We should do it, Satoru. There’s no other way.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“We don’t have time to try anything else.”
We all set to work flattening a new piece of clay and attaching it to the one I made earlier. Since we were all working on the same thing, we couldn’t use our cantus, so we had no choice but to do everything by hand. We finished just as Maria and Mamoru burst into the room.
“The semifinals just ended. And something really bad happened!”
“Don’t tell me, we’re up against team three? But we have a plan against them,” Satoru said, as if he was the one who had come up with the idea.
“No,” Maria said. “Team three lost. Team two is our opponent in the finals!”
Chapter 5
We met team three walking out as we were heading to the inner courtyard.
“I really thought we would be going against you guys in the finals,” I said to Hiroshi.
“Same here, I thought we would win,” Hiroshi said regretfully. “If only this hadn’t happened…” He held out the horseshoe-shaped pusher. A large part of the bottom had been torn off.
“How did that happen?”
“One of the defenders smashed into it on accident,” Hiroshi said, running his finger over the broken edges. “The ball started rolling the wrong way and it took us over a minute to get it back on track.”
“In the end, team two won with a minute and thirty six seconds against a minute forty one seconds. That was just so cruel, don’t you think?” The most arrogant girl in the class, Misuzu, put her hand on Hiroshi’s shoulder and sighed.
“It’s their fault they hit you.”
“Well it was an accident, so what can you do about it,” Hiroshi said unconvincingly. “Be careful,” he said as he left. “Who knows what will happen in the finals.”
Hearing something like that before a match felt like some sort of omen. We started paying extra attention to everything around us. And when we saw team two’s attacker, we were taken aback.
“Is it riding on a wheel?” Satoru whispered disbelievingly.
“We considered that too, and decided not to do it because the axle wouldn’t hold up. How strange. Isn’t it a bad idea to do this with clay?”
Shun squinted at the attacker.
“Look closely; it’s a ball, not a wheel.”
The main body of the pusher had a ball set into the bottom. Since you could only see about half of it, it looked like a wheel.
“It looks like the body is just riding on the ball. If something bumps into it, won’t it fall off?” Satoru said calculatingly. “They should have stuck it in all the way.”
“No, if they put it in as far as possible, it’ll be easy for sand to get in, which would be a disaster. But even as it is now, I think it would break soon anyway,” Shun said doubtfully.
“If sand stops the ball-wheel from moving, then it’s the same as just pushing it normally, right? They probably just want to get a good start to break through our defense,” Maria said calmly.
Our questions were answered as soon as the match started.
“Two of them…!” I exclaimed in surprise.
The two aces of team two, Ryou and Akira, were both controlling the pusher.
Ryou was probably operating the body of the pusher to direct the marble ball, while Akira concentrated on keeping the two halves together as well as removing anything that might jam the ball-wheel. Having two people use their canti in such close proximity is dangerous, so most people would avoid having multiple people control one piece, but in this case the benefits far outweigh the risk.
Since the ball-wheel didn’t create much friction against the ground, they could move it smoothly with their canti. Even when they were moving as fast as team five had been, they had perfect control over the marble ball.
Even though we tried as hard as we could to defend, the pusher zig-zagged easily through the gaps in our defenders.
Satoru’s defender pulled a sharp u-turn chasing after the pusher and crashed into Mamoru’s slow-moving one, sending it flying off the field.
“It’s damaged,” I told Shun, sighing.
“Looks like it. That pusher is really something. Now we can only count on your idea working.”
We stopped controlling the defenders and stood by to monitor the bout. Seeing this, the members of team two seemed to think that we had given up and rushed ahead triumphantly. Then they came to an abrupt halt and looked around, bewildered.
“What’s going on? There’s no goal,” Manabu shouted at us.
“There is,” Shun replied.
“Where?”
“We don’t have to tell you guys anything,” Satoru said smugly.
“Hey, stop the time! Something’s wrong,” Manabu complained.
“Don’t you dare,” Maria warned the timekeeper, a student from team four. “Don’t stop the time until one side has won.
“I’m serious! How can we continue the match if there’s no goal?”
“Like I said, there is one,” Shun said calmly to the angry Manabu.
“Look for it. Though it’ll cost you time,” Satoru taunted.
Even as his teammate, I thought Satoru was being annoying. To the enemy, he must be absolutely infuriating.
“We’re just wasting our time if there’s no goal.”
“There is a goal. If there isn’t, then we’d be in violation of the rules, and lose the match,” Shun said quietly.
Manabu looked around suspiciously. If we could keep this up for a little longer, they will have wasted almost two whole minutes.
“…it’s hidden, isn’t it,” one of the members suddenly realized.
Although they scanned the field desperately, the goal was nowhere to be seen.
“This is cheating!” Manabu growled through gritted teeth.
“There’s no rule that says you can’t hide the goal.”
“Yes there is! Altering the field is a huge violation.”
“Well, we didn’t change the field in any way. Shall we give you a hint?” Satoru asked.
Afraid that he would let something slip in the heat of the moment, I quickly interrupted.
“We’ll tell you the trick later. But hadn’t you better keep looking? This is cutting into your time, you know.”
Manabu looked perplexed, but went back to searching for the goal. Even if he found it now, more than a minute would have passed. And it was also possible that he might just never find it. The goal was perfectly covered by the thin clay disk disguised to look like the sandy ground. Much like how a ray burrows part of itself into the ocean floor to blend in, the edge of the disk was concealed by sand. (Contrary to Satoru’s claim about not altering the field at all, what we were doing was probably just short of breaking the rules.)
For a while, team two pushed the ball around, searching fruitlessly for the goal. Then by a stroke of luck, they managed to roll on top of the disk. Since the disk was only made right before the match, it wasn’t properly strengthened and couldn’t hold up the weight of a ten kilo ball. It broke in half and the ball fell into the goal.
“Ah, it breaks too easily, just as we thought.”
“But it’s fulfilled its purpose. They took over three minutes so it’ll be an easy victory for us,” Satoru said optimistically.
We were all taken
by his enthusiasm. There was no way team two’s defenders were strong enough to stop us for three minutes.
Even as we switched sides and moved our pusher onto the field, we were still full of confidence.
We didn’t realize anything was wrong until team two started approaching us in waves with over ten defenders. Each person controlled at least two and attacked indiscriminately, slamming relentlessly into our attackers. Since there were so many, we couldn’t stop them all. Some slipped through and headed straight for the ball.
Even in the face of the onrushing defenders, Shun kept moving the ball forward calmly. Since we still had three minutes to spare, there was no hurry.
We were almost halfway across the field; even though only a minute had passed, we could already see the goal up ahead. Even though team two had many defenders, they were small and light and didn’t have the strength to stop the pusher from continuing forward. Victory was within our grasp.
In that moment, the ball stopped jerkily as if held back by a tether. Shun looked startled. When he tried pushing the ball harder, something happened.
A defender came flying in from the side, slipped past the ball and rammed straight into the pusher.
With a high, clear sound like a struck bell, pieces of ceramic went flying through the air.
Everyone gasped. The defender flew off the field, and we saw that our pusher’s left arm was broken.
Even though the match hadn’t been stopped, all of us, and the members of team two, were frozen in shock. All except one person.
Another defender came in from the same direction and pushed the ball. It slowly rolled off the field.
Who did that? I looked over team two’s dumbfounded faces and glimpsed Manabu grinning broadly. Instinctively, I turned away, feeling like I had seen something I wasn’t supposed to.
“Hey! The hell are you doing?” Satoru shouted furiously. “You just…you just,” he couldn’t even bring himself to say the rest.
“Sorry, it was an accident,” Manabu said.
“An accident? That’s just an excuse,” Maria yelled.
“Okay, stop the time,” the Sun Prince stepped between us.
The timing of his appearance was impeccable; he had probably been watching us from somewhere.
“It’s unfortunate, but because of the accident, the final match is a draw.”
“What! But the other side violated the rules, right?” Shun said forcefully in a rare show of protest.
“No, it was just an accident. Both team one and team two can be considered winners, okay?”
Having heard what the teacher said, no one else dared to complain.
The tournament that had gotten the entire class riled up ended on this unexpected note.
“I can’t believe this. He definitely did it on purpose!” Maria seethed. “Team three even warned us before the match.”
“Yeah, no way it was an accident,” Mamoru said in agreement.
“He planned the whole thing,” Satoru chimed in. “Slipping past the ball, breaking the pusher’s arm, it was all part of the plan. Don’t you think so, Shun?”
Shun stayed silent, his arms crossed.
“What? Don’t tell me you believe him?”
Shun shook his head.
“No…I’m thinking about what happened before that.”
“Before?”
“The pusher suddenly stopped, almost as if it had hit a wall.”
“Huh?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. The pusher felt really strange. And it’s not like there was anything on the ground stopping it.”
We were at a loss for words. Shun had the sharpest senses out of all of us, and he wasn’t the type to just make up stuff like this.
In that case, the only possible explanation was that someone had used their cantus to stop our ball. Apart from breaking the tournament rule about using your cantus directly on the ball, the fact that someone had interfered with another person’s cantus – I’ve mentioned this before – was a blatant violation of the Code of Ethics. If two canti were to come in contact with each other, a rainbow interference pattern would appear and space would become distorted, creating an extremely dangerous environment.
In other words, someone in team two was okay with breaking the most fundamental of rules.
Imagining a person doing that was so disturbing it felt like the ground was about to give way beneath my feet. That day, we were silent on the way home. Everyone was probably in a state of shock. But even then, we didn’t know the true nature of the fear that writhed deep inside us.
During puberty, even the smallest problems often feel like the end of the world. But our young, naive minds do not stay worried for long; we soon forget what it was that was causing our anxiety in the first place.
In addition, thanks to a subconscious defense mechanism we call forgetfulness, even more serious issues that would cause us to question the world we live in disappear from our minds like wisps of smoke.
Once the ball tournament was over, we turned our attention to the most important event Sage Academy held each year, summer camp. Even though the name makes it sound happy and carefree, it was actually an action-packed week-long camp where the teams paddled up the Tone River and lived in tents without any adult supervision. We had to have our teacher approve our itinerary to make sure it didn’t clash with another team’s schedule, but that was the only input we would get from them. This would be our first time going outside the Holy Barrier since our visit to the Temple of Purity, so everyone was as excited and nervous as if we had been told we were going to explore a new planet.
Our anticipation and anxiety grew ever more intense each day, and every time we saw each other, someone had a new story or rumor or theory they had heard about summer camp. Although none of these discussions were based in fact, and thus weren’t actually helpful for our trip, they took our minds off of our worries.
And so, the bitter aftertaste from the unsatisfactory conclusion of the ball tournament did not linger long on our tongues. We did not remember the long-absent Reiko Amano, nor were we concerned with the fact that another student, Manabu Katayama, had disappeared from our midst.
Of course, this lack of thought itself is undeniable proof that our memories were being meticulously and deftly manipulated.
“Saki, row properly,” Satoru complained for about the thirtieth time.
“I am doing it properly, you’re the one that’s not cooperating,” I responded for the thirtieth time.
Canadian canoes are operated by a pair of rowers sitting in a line and moving in tandem, but if their movements weren’t synchronized properly, they could row forever and never get anywhere. What that meant was that Satoru and I, partnered by lottery, were the worst imaginable pair.
“Man, why is that pair so different from us?”
From our perspective, Maria and Mamoru were in perfect harmony. Even though we had only a two-hour lecture on how to operate the canoe the day before, they looked like they had been partners for years. Not only that, but Mamoru had enough spare time to entertain Maria with rainbows he made out of the spray from the boat’s wake.
“Watch them carefully. Mamoru is matching his speed with Maria. Since the person in front can’t see what’s going on behind them, it’s up to the second person to adapt to the first.”
“But Maria is actually rowing properly. You just keep looking at the scenery and forget to row at all,” Satoru continued to grumble false accusations.
The early summer breeze flowing down the wide expanse of the river felt wonderfully cool. I stop paddling for just a little while and take off my hat, letting the wind tease my hair. The towel around my shoulders waved like a cape, exposing the back of my sweaty T-shirt for the wind to dry. The rubber life vest was torturous to wear, but a necessary precaution.
All along the riverbanks were clumps of reeds, and the chirps of the great reed warbler could be heard coming from within.
Suddenly, I felt the canoe gather
speed and glide forward smoothly. For a second I thought Satoru had seen the error of his ways and was rowing the boat with all his strength. But of course that wasn’t it.
I looked back and saw that he leaning on the side of the boat, with one hand under his chin and the other trailing in the water.
“What are you doing?” I asked seriously.
He looked up. “The river feels so nice, like the ocean, just without all the salty spray,” he said, completely missing my point.
“Weren’t you the one who said that we should go as far as we can without relying on our canti? You’ve given up already?”
“Don’t be silly. We could’ve done that if we were going downstream, but it’s too hard to row against the flow,” Satoru yawned.
“That’s why we were just offsetting that with our cantus so…”
“If you’re going to go to all that trouble, why not just use your cantus to propel the boat in the first place? Anyway, we could always row on the way back.”
It was pointless arguing with Satoru when he was already in lazy-mode. I turned my attention back to the scenery. Looking closely at Maria and Mamoru together, and Shun rowing by himself, I could tell that their canti were doing more than just canceling out the force of the river rushing against them. It seems like it’s only human nature to take the easy way out.
Shun waved at us from the riverbank and pointed at the reeds with his paddle. The other two canoes changed course and headed toward him.
“Look, a great reed warbler’s nest.”
The little nest was built at chest height, so I could see right into it if I stood up in the canoe. The canoe rocked from side to side; Satoru grabbed the sides for balance and peered out at it.
“Woah, it really is. But is it,”
The nest was about seven or eight centimeters in diameter, propped up carefully on three thick reeds. Inside were five small brown-speckled eggs.
“…really a warbler’s nest? It could be a haythatcher’s, right?”
To be honest, I couldn’t, and still can’t, tell the difference between the two.
The haythatcher gets its name from the fact that it builds its nest in fields of silver grass, but in reality, it more often makes it out of reeds near riverbanks.
