by Kotaro Isaka
‘Oh, you again.’ A trace of irritation creeps onto the man’s face, barely noticeable, but the Prince doesn’t miss it. He thinks I’m a pain, he notes. It’s not an uncommon reaction. Some adults are impressed by an honours student, but to some there’s nothing in the world as annoying as a high-achieving kid. ‘He passed out. Still sleeping. Drunks sure are trouble, huh?’ He comes to a stop, scratching his temple. Then he turns towards the bin in the wall, glancing back at the Prince as he does.
‘Something wrong?’ the Prince asks solicitously, though he knows exactly what the man wants to do next: check that the bag is still there. He only hid it a short while ago; the Prince would have guessed it might be a bit longer before the man came to check on it.
He’s more nervous than I thought. The Prince adjusts his appraisal of the man. Probably the type who starts worrying as soon as he leaves the house about whether he locked the door and turned off the gas.
‘Uh, it’s nothing.’ The man clearly wants the Prince to leave him alone and go somewhere else. He doesn’t lose his temper, but he’s agitated.
The Prince makes a show of looking at his mobile phone, as if a call was coming in. ‘Excuse me,’ he says, pretending to start talking on the phone, and steps away towards the door. He reasons the man will try to open the panel if he thinks he’s not being watched. Sure enough, he registers in his peripheral vision the man’s nervous movements in front of the bin.
There’s a slight clang, probably the panel swinging open. He forces himself not to look, but he can picture the man’s shocked face upon discovering that the suitcase is gone. He fights back a smile.
‘You’ve gotta be kidding me!’ wails the man. The Prince ends his fake phone call and ambles back to the toilet door. When he innocently asks the man again if something’s wrong, the man just stands there going pale and gaping at the open panel, not having bothered to close it.
‘Oh wow, the wall opens,’ the Prince says airily.
The man pulls at his hair, then takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. The gesture is such a clichéd pantomime of consternation that the Prince wouldn’t even expect to see a character in a manga do it, but the man clearly isn’t trying to be funny. He’s utterly bewildered. The only thing that the Prince doesn’t understand is what the man says next: ‘I knew it.’
‘You knew it? Knew what?’
Apparently overcome with shock, the man doesn’t bother to dissemble. ‘There was a bag in here, the bag you saw me with before, my, my bag, I put it in here.’
‘Why would you put it in there?’ The Prince assumes the role of the naive, well-intentioned student.
‘It’s a long story.’
‘And now it’s gone? So what did you mean when you said you knew it?’
‘I knew this would happen.’
He knew it would be stolen? The thought makes the Prince a bit uncomfortable. Is he saying he knew I would steal it? The possibility that the man might have seen through his plan seems so unbelievable that he almost accuses the man of lying, but he checks himself. ‘You knew the bag would go missing?’
‘Not specifically that, no. If I knew that then I wouldn’t have put it in here. Just that something like this always happens. Everything I do ends up going wrong. As soon as I think, wow, it would be terrible if that happened, I really hope that doesn’t happen, it happens. I was thinking I would be in trouble if the bag disappeared, so I came to check on it, and of course it’s gone.’ As he speaks the man seems to edge closer and closer to bursting into tears.
Aha, so that’s it. The Prince is relieved. ‘That sounds tough,’ he says kindly. ‘You said you’ll be in trouble if you lose the bag?’
‘Big trouble. Really big trouble. I was supposed to get off at Omiya.’
‘Can you not get off if you don’t have the bag?’
The man looks straight at the Prince, blinking rapidly. Apparently the possibility had never occurred to him. Then he seems to be imagining what might happen if that was the move he made. ‘I guess I could, if I wanted to live the rest of my life on the run.’
‘Whatever’s in the bag must be really important.’ The Prince touches his fingers to his mouth in a gesture he knows is hammy, but he calculates it will reinforce the image that he’s just a harmless kid. ‘Oh-h-h,’ he says, pitching his voice up and drawing the syllable out, ‘now that you mention it, I saw it just a little while ago. Your bag, I mean.’
‘What?’ The man’s eyes pop. ‘Wh-where?’
‘When I was on my way to the bathroom. There was a man with a black suitcase. He was tall, wearing a jacket. His hair was kind of long.’
The man with the black glasses listens with a suspicious air, but after a moment his face turns into a scowl. ‘Lemon or Tangerine.’
It’s not clear why the man is naming fruits.
‘Which way did he go?’
‘I didn’t see.’
‘Oh.’ The man looks back and forth towards the front and back of the train, trying to decide where he should begin his search. ‘Which way do you think he went? Your gut instinct.’
‘Huh?’ Why would he care about my gut instinct?
‘Everything I do goes wrong. If I go towards car six, then whoever has the bag will probably have gone the other way, and if I start in car five, then they’ll be in the other direction. Whatever I choose, it’ll get turned around.’
‘Turned around by whom?’
The man swallows, at a momentary loss. Then he snaps, ‘By someone, okay? Like maybe there’s someone looking down on us, pulling the strings on all our lives.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ says the Prince. ‘No one’s pulling any strings. There’s no god of fate, and if by some chance there is a god, I feel like he just tossed all us humans into a display case and forgot about us.’
‘So you’re saying my bad luck isn’t God’s fault.’
‘It’s hard to explain. Say you have a board resting at an angle, and you drop some BBs or pebbles on it. Each one will roll in its own direction, find its own course down, but that’s not because anyone set the course for it or changed its direction partway down. Where it falls depends on the speed and shape, so that it would naturally go that way on its own.’
‘So what you’re saying is I’m just unlucky by nature, it’ll never change, no matter what I do, no matter how hard I struggle.’
The Prince was hoping his words would needle the man, make him lose his temper, but he didn’t expect his reaction to be so completely dejected.
‘What’s your favourite number?’
‘Why?’ The man seems thrown off by the question. But despite his confusion he answers clearly, ‘Seven. It’s the Nana in my name, Nanao, Seven Tails. Although you’d think seven would be a lucky number.’
‘Then why not try car number seven?’ The Prince points to the front of the train.
‘I feel like that’ll end up being the wrong way,’ the man says. ‘I’ll go in the other direction.’ He starts towards the rear. The train will arrive at Omiya any moment.
‘I hope you find it!’
The Prince steps closer to the toilet door and knocks once. The bag you’re looking for was in here all along, but you just walked on by. You really are unlucky.
Fruit
THE MELODY SIGNALLING THE TRAIN’S imminent arrival at Omiya starts to play in the carriage, followed by a station announcement. In the next seat over, Lemon is grinning. ‘Feeling nervous?’
‘A little, yeah. Aren’t you?’ Minegishi’s man will be waiting for them at Omiya.
‘Nope. Not really.’
Tangerine sighs. ‘I’m jealous. It must be great to be so simple-minded. You know, it’s your fault we’re in this mess.’
‘Sure, why not,’ Lemon says, munching on some crackers. ‘Though it’s not all my fault. I mean, yeah, it’s definitely probably my fault we lost the bag, but the fact that this kid is dead isn’t on you or me, it’s on him.’
‘Him?’ Tangerine looks at the corpse by the
window. ‘You mean it’s his fault he’s dead?’
‘Yeah. He shouldn’t have just gone and died. Selfish. You don’t think so? He didn’t even leave any clues.’
The Shinkansen starts to drop speed. Tangerine stands up.
‘Hey, where you going?’ Lemon sounds worried.
‘We’re pulling into Omiya. I have to report to Minegishi’s guy, tell him everything’s going smoothly. I’m going to wait by the door.’
‘You’re not gonna get off and make a run for it, right?’
I hadn’t thought of that, realises Tangerine. ‘Running would probably just make things worse.’
‘If you run, I’ll call Minegishi, I’ll tell him it’s all your fault, I’ll offer to bring you in. You know, I’ll lick his boots, I’ll wag my tail, Oh, Mr Minegishi, I’ll get that bastard Tangerine, just please forgive me, spare me my life! Like that.’
‘Somehow I can’t picture it.’ He squeezes past the still-seated Lemon and steps into the aisle.
The train’s brakes are kicking in. Tangerine sees a stadium out the left-hand window. It looks like a fortress, overwhelmingly large and somehow unreal. To the right a department store slides by.
‘Don’t be too confident,’ Lemon says from behind, having followed. ‘That’s in the Thomas song too. Your best-plans can go wrong if you get too confident,’ he sings, ‘if you don’t concentrate on what you’re doing, accidents happen, just like that!’
‘Sounds like a load of sunny crap to me,’ Tangerine says. ‘Anyway, you’re the one who needs to listen to the message of that song.’
‘I’m never overconfident. My confidence is exactly where it should be, no more, no less.’
‘I mean the part about concentrating on what you’re doing. You do everything sloppily, everything’s a chore to you. No powers of concentration, no attention span.’
‘Hey, don’t tell me I’ve got no attention span. I’ll give you an example. Take Thomas and Friends …’
‘For fuck’s sake.’
‘There are two characters named Oliver, did you know that? There’s the tank engine that Douglas rescued, and then there’s the shovel car. Most people only think of the tank engine when they say Oliver, but strictly speaking there are two Olivers.’
‘So what?’
‘So, I’m saying that I pay attention to things like that. My attention’s great.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Tangerine waves him away. He wants to point out that if that’s the kind of thing Lemon cares about, there are three characters named Nikolai in Anna Karenina, but he knows all too well that Lemon will just spout some nonsense, like there’s no Anna in Thomas but there is an Annie and do you realise that Karenina sounds like a combination of car and Nina but there’s no Nina in Thomas either.
The train pulls in to Omiya Station.
As Tangerine enters the gangway an announcement says that the doors on the left side will open. He positions himself accordingly. The platform slides by on the left. A scattering of people await the train’s arrival.
Tangerine doesn’t know what Minegishi’s man will look like, or even if it’s just one man. Am I even gonna find this guy? He wonders uncertainly, but at that very moment, just as the train is easing to a stop, he glimpses a man through the window, a man who obviously has nothing to do with the society of law-abiding, workaday people, clearly someone whose world is the backstreets and dark alleys. There he is. The man is tall with slicked-back hair. He wears a black suit and a loud blue shirt, no tie. He’s only visible for a moment as the train floats along its last few metres, so Tangerine doesn’t get a clear look at the man’s face.
With a sound like an exhalation, the door trembles, then opens.
Tangerine steps onto the platform without any hesitation. He turns and sees the man in the suit and blue shirt step up to the Shinkansen and bring his face up to the window, his hands framing his eyes to make a shade. He peers inside the train, ignoring the two young women who seem scandalised by his peeping. He must be checking up on Minegishi’s kid, seated across the aisle by the opposite window.
‘Yo,’ Tangerine calls out. The man turns, scowling. Tangerine sees now that this guy isn’t some flashy punk. He has a dignified bearing, in his forties – if he were a normal working citizen he’d probably be in management. Actually kind of handsome. Sharp look in the eyes, no visible paunch. He electrifies the air around him just by standing there, making Tangerine’s nerves stand on end.
‘What can I do for you, buddy?’ The man resumes looking through the train window, tossing a few more glances towards Tangerine.
‘I’m Tangerine. I guess you’re the fellow Minegishi sent to make sure my partner and I have his son.’
Blue-shirt’s scowl eases with recognition, but a moment later his face turns grave again. ‘Everything going smoothly?’
‘More or less. You know, three men squeezed in together isn’t the most comfortable.’ He points at the window and looks in. Lemon, still in his seat, notices them and waves his hand with childish enthusiasm. All Tangerine can do is pray, Don’t mess this up.
‘Is he sleeping?’ Blue-shirt jerks his thumb towards the window.
‘Who, the kid? Yeah, when we found him he was tied to a chair and hadn’t had any sleep. He must be worn out.’ Tangerine tries his utmost to keep his voice sounding natural. The train won’t be stopping at the station much longer. He needs to get back on.
‘That tired, huh?’ Blue-shirt crosses his arms, a dubious look on his face as he peers back in once more. The young women make pained faces and contort their bodies to avoid his gaze. Lemon just keeps waving.
‘Hey, I was wondering something about Minegishi,’ Tangerine says. He doesn’t want this guy to look too hard at the dead rich kid.
‘You mean Mr Minegishi.’ Blue-shirt is basically pressing his nose against the window. His mild tone carries an undeniable authority.
‘Sure, Mr Minegishi. Is Mr Minegishi as rough as they say? I mean I’ve heard all kinds of rumours, but I don’t know what’s really what.’
‘He’s not rough if people do their jobs properly. People who don’t do their jobs properly tend to find his treatment rough. Which is perfectly fair, wouldn’t you say?’
The melody signalling the train’s departure starts to play on the platform. Tangerine tries to hide his relief. ‘Guess that’s my signal.’ Stay cool now.
‘Sounds like it.’ Blue-shirt steps away from the window and looks straight at Tangerine.
‘Tell Minegishi we’re on top of it.’
‘Mr Minegishi.’
Tangerine turns on his heel and heads back to the Shinkansen door. Bought ourselves a little time, at least until we get to Sendai, he reassures himself, but he feels Blue-shirt’s eyes boring a hole in his back. Keep it together. His hand floats to his rear pocket, where he feels the giveaway entry Lemon gave him, the one with the drawing of the train that’s never had an accident. Wonder if this thing works.
‘Oh, hey,’ Blue-shirt calls from behind. Tangerine halts in mid-stride, with one foot already on the train. Trying to act natural, he steps his other foot into the train and turns round.
‘What’s up?’
‘You’ve got the suitcase, right?’ Blue-shirt’s expression doesn’t show any doubt or suspicion. He just seems to be doing his administrative duty, checking an item off his list. Tangerine attempts to keep his breathing steady.
‘Of course.’
‘And you didn’t do anything stupid like store it somewhere you couldn’t keep an eye on it.’
‘No, it’s right there by our seats.’
Tangerine turns slowly and steps further into the train, just as the door slides shut. He re-enters car number three and returns to his seat. His eyes meet Lemon’s. ‘No sweat,’ Lemon says, giving a playful thumbs up.
‘Cut it out,’ Tangerine hisses. ‘He’s probably still watching.’
Lemon turns reflexively to the window, but his movements are jerky, making him look nervous. Before Tangerine ca
n scold him again he follows Lemon and looks towards the window. Blue-shirt is just on the other side, staring in at them.
Lemon waves again. Tangerine can’t tell if he’s just being paranoid but it seems that Blue-shirt looks more sceptical than before. ‘Come on, man, don’t push it. He suspects something’s up.’ Tangerine tries to move his lips as little as possible.
‘Relax. The train’s leaving. Once a train starts moving no one can stop it. Unless you’re Sir Topham Hatt, forget about it.’
As the train inches forward, Blue-shirt stares penetratingly in at them. Tangerine gives a brief wave, like you would to a co-worker.
Blue-shirt opens one hand and twitches it as if to say See you later, following along as the train departs. Then his face goes rigid and his eyes widen, which makes Tangerine’s brow furrow in consternation. What happened? He wonders, then turns his head and sees something he doesn’t quite believe: Lemon lifting up Little Minegishi’s dead hand and waving it, like he was playing with a giant doll. With the kid’s head against the window and his body slumped on the wall the angle of the waving hand looks completely bizarre.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Tangerine wrenches Lemon’s arm away. Which makes the body lurch towards Lemon. The head flops forward, chin to chest. It does not look at all like someone sleeping peacefully. Frantic, Tangerine tries to prop the body up.
‘Ohhh shit.’ Even Lemon seems concerned.
The Shinkansen picks up speed and Tangerine looks back at the receding platform. Blue-shirt’s face is deadly serious as he lifts his phone to his ear.
They somehow manage to get the body upright and stable.
Tangerine and Lemon collapse back into their seats simultaneously.
‘We’re fucked.’ Tangerine can’t help stating the obvious.
Lemon just starts to sing quietly, ‘Accidents happen, don’t take it a-a-all so h-a-ard!’
Nanao
AS NANAO WATCHES OMIYA STATION disappear into the distance, he wonders vaguely what the hell is going on. There’s a smokescreen swirling around inside his head, preventing his thoughts from circulating.
