Bullet Train

by Kotaro Isaka

  It seems like he should be doing something besides going back to his seat, so he stays in the gangway and stares at his phone. He knows he should call Maria, but he can’t quite work himself up to it. But he also knows that it’ll only be a matter of time before she calls him.

  He makes up his mind and dials.

  She answers before it even rings, like she was hovering over her phone waiting to pounce. It gives Nanao a heavy feeling. Even Maria, usually so optimistic and flexible, is apparently on edge. Probably because she knows how dangerous Minegishi is.

  ‘What train did you catch back to Tokyo?’ There’s a forced casualness in her voice though she’s dying to confirm his homeward status.

  ‘Same train as before. I’m on the Hayate.’ He says it so matter-of-factly that it almost sounds flippant. He also has to speak louder than usual due to the noise of the tracks in the gangway. Maria’s voice is difficult to make out.

  ‘What do you mean? You haven’t got to Omiya yet?’

  ‘We passed Omiya. I’m still on the Hayate.’

  Maria falls silent in momentary confusion. But then she heaves a sigh, guessing from her previous experiences with Nanao that something’s gone wrong. ‘Yeah, I thought that might happen, but I didn’t really think it would happen. Guess I shouldn’t underestimate you.’

  ‘The bag’s gone. So I couldn’t get off.’

  ‘Didn’t you hide the bag?’

  ‘Yeah. Now it’s gone missing.’

  ‘Time for you to get married.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘To the god of bad luck. You two should really get married at this point, since you’re so cosy. I should be pleased, but I’m just too pissed off.’

  ‘Why should you be pleased?’

  ‘Because I was right that you wouldn’t be able to get off at Omiya. It’s satisfying to be right, you know? But in this case I’m just depressed.’

  Nanao doesn’t appreciate her mockery, and he considers jabbing back, but he doesn’t want to waste the time and energy. Most important is figuring out how to handle their immediate predicament.

  ‘Next question. I get that you don’t know where the bag is. I’m not happy about it, but I accept the facts of the situation. But why didn’t you get off at Omiya? If the bag’s missing that means somebody probably took it. Now the Shinkansen stopped at Omiya, so I’d say there are two possibilities. One, that the person who took it is still on the train, or two, that they took the bag and got off.’

  ‘Right.’

  Nanao had considered this in the moments before the train pulled into Omiya, as if he was scrambling to put together a rush construction job: should he get off the train, or stay on and keep looking for the bag?

  ‘So why did you decide not to get off at Omiya?’

  ‘Two options, and I had to pick one. I went with the option that seemed to have better odds, even if only a little.’

  He had tried to anticipate which option would give him a higher chance of getting the suitcase back. If he had got off at Omiya and tried searching for whoever had it, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find them. If whoever it was got on a different train or slipped off into the streets, there wouldn’t be much he could do. On the other hand, if he stayed on the train, and the person with the bag was also on board, there was at least some chance he could get it back. The thief wouldn’t be able to get off for a while, so if Nanao went through the train with a fine-tooth comb he might very well be able to catch them. Based on these calculations, Nanao decided it would be better to stay on the train. In no small part it was also the fact that as long as he remained on the train he could reasonably say he was still on the job. If Minegishi got in touch to check on the status, Maria would be able to say that Nanao was on the train, fighting the good fight. At least he hoped that was the case.

  He did get off for a minute, though. He thought he should at least scan the platform to make sure no one was running off with the bag. If someone looked like a likely suspect he would have chased them. Given how long the train was and the curve of the platform he couldn’t see all the way to the front, but he was resolved to do what he could, and he stood there swivelling his head back and forth, watching.

  A few cars back, maybe car three or four, two people caught his eye. The taller one wore black clothes and had long hair for a man. Tangerine, or maybe Lemon.

  Whichever one it was, the tall man stood with his back to Nanao, facing someone else who was apparently waiting on the platform. An older guy, with a vivid blue shirt. His hair was pulled back in a way that made Nanao think of an old lady’s hairstyle in a foreign film. Kind of endearing.

  The taller man got back on the train. Nanao glimpsed his profile and couldn’t tell if it was Lemon or Tangerine or even someone else entirely. The man in the blue shirt stayed on the platform and leaned towards the train, peering in at the window. It didn’t look like he was seeing the taller man off. In fact it wasn’t at all clear what the blue-shirted man was doing. All Nanao could say for sure was that it was car three and not four. He had counted.

  ‘You said the bag’s owner was in car three, right?’ Nanao checks with Maria after recounting what he had seen on the platform at Omiya.

  ‘Yeah. At least that’s what I was told. And you’re saying you spotted Tangerine or Lemon in car three?’

  ‘Someone who looks like he could be one of the two of them. Which gives more strength to the theory that they were the bag’s original owners.’

  ‘I think it’s a little more certain than a theory.’

  ‘Sorry, what was that?’ He’s paying attention, but it’s difficult to hear her. The Shinkansen is known for being a smooth ride, but the swaying can be intense in the gangway; he has to focus on keeping steady, and he’s distracted by the incessant racket of the tracks. It’s as if the train is trying to prevent him from connecting with Maria, his only ally. ‘Either way, I decided that staying on the train gave me a better chance to get the bag back.’

  ‘Well, you’re probably right about that. So you think that the fruit twins stole it back from you?’

  ‘I stole it from them first. Then they stole it back from me. That seems the most likely. If there were a third party involved things would start to get complicated. I really hope that isn’t the case.’

  ‘If that’s what you hope, then it probably is the case.’

  ‘Come on, stop trying to freak me out, please!’ His hopes and dreams never come true, but everything he fears always does.

  ‘I’m not trying to freak you out. This is just the story of your life. The god of bad luck is totally in love with you. Or the goddess, I guess.’

  Nanao tries to steady himself against the swaying. ‘Is the goddess of bad luck good-looking?’

  ‘Do you really want to know?’

  ‘I guess I’ll pass.’

  ‘Okay, but really, what are we going to do?’ He can hear her anxiety plainly enough.

  ‘What indeed.’

  ‘How about this?’ As she says this the train bucks and he loses his balance, then catches himself. ‘For starters, you steal the bag back from the two fruits.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter how. You just have to do it, no matter what. Get that bag. That’s the first order of business. Meanwhile, I’ll make something up to tell our client.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like we have the bag, but you missed getting off at Omiya, and the Shinkansen doesn’t stop again until Sendai so he’ll just have to sit tight until then. That’s what I’ll tell him. The important part is that we have the bag. I mean I’ll be casual, but I’ll make it clear that you’re doing your job. You just weren’t able to get off the train, unfortunately. That’ll probably be good enough.’

  ‘Good enough for what?’

  ‘Good enough to keep Minegishi from flipping out.’

  Makes sense, thinks Nanao. Rather than being the kids sent to the grocery store who don’t buy any vegetables, it’s better to be the kids who bought th
e vegetables but got held up on the way home due to roadworks. They’d still seem reliable enough, and probably get in less trouble.

  ‘By the way, do you think Tangerine and Lemon would recognise you?’ Maria’s voice is tight. She’s no doubt starting to imagine a confrontation.

  Nanao thinks back. ‘I don’t think so. We’ve never worked together. Once I was in a bar and someone pointed them out to me. That’s Tangerine and Lemon, baddest guys in the business, he said. I remember thinking they looked dangerous, and actually they ended up tearing the place apart. It was pretty hectic.’

  ‘Well then, the opposite could be true too.’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘Maybe somebody once pointed you out to them. That guy in the black glasses, he’s still young but he’s by far the unluckiest guy in the biz. So they might recognise your face too.’

  ‘I – that’s –’ But Nanao swallows his words. He can’t say for sure that it wouldn’t have happened. Maria seems to sense what he’s thinking.

  ‘Right? That’s exactly the kind of thing that would happen to you. Because you’re her favourite,’ she says knowingly, ‘the dog-faced goddess of bad luck is madly in love with you.’

  ‘Now she’s dog-faced?’

  ‘Beggars can’t be choosers. Okay, go on, get over to car three.’

  Then Maria lets out a cry of dismay. ‘Maria? What happened?’

  ‘No way. Are you kidding me?’

  Nanao presses his ear against the phone. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I am just so over this,’ she groans.

  He hangs up in consternation.

  Kimura

  WHY DO THEY GOTTA MAKE train toilets so nasty? Kimura grimaces as he hunches over the suitcase and fiddles with the lock. The toilet gets cleaned regularly, and isn’t particularly dirty, but the whole situation feels repugnant.

  He’s working on the combination lock. Rotates one dial by one digit, tries to open it. It doesn’t budge. Next, he flips the dial again, one more digit, tries to open it. Tries again, but it still doesn’t cooperate.

  The Shinkansen sways back and forth rhythmically.

  The walls of the tiny room start to press in, make him feel like his spirit is being crushed. He thinks back to how he was not too long ago. Couldn’t stop drinking, and if he went even a little while without a drink he would get anxious and crabby. More than once Wataru hid all the alcohol in the apartment on his grandparents’ instructions, but Kimura just ransacked the place looking for it, and if he didn’t find it he’d get desperate, almost ready to drink his hair tonic. He’s just glad that he never got violent with Wataru. He knows that if he ever hit his son his remorse would fester in him until it filled his whole body up, killing him dead.

  And now that he’s finally stopped drinking, now that he’s clawed his way out of the dark forest of alcoholism, his son’s lying in the hospital in a coma. It makes him want to scream. How come now that I beat this thing Wataru isn’t around to see it? He feels like his new beginning has been robbed of meaning.

  The bucking train tosses his body around.

  His finger scrapes the dial. He puts pressure on the handle to open the suitcase. But it doesn’t open. He’s got from 0000 to 0261 and he’s already sick of the tedious task. How come I gotta do this bullshit job for that fucking Prince? His humiliation and rage mix and mount until he explodes, savagely kicking the toilet bowl. It happens three more times. Each time, he manages to get a hold of himself, telling himself he has to stay calm. Keep calm, make a show of following the Prince’s orders, wait for my chance. Sooner or later I’ll get my chance to punish that little son of a bitch.

  But before long his nerves start to twist and fray, and he wants to lash out again. Rinse, wash, repeat.

  A bit earlier the Prince gave him a signal. Two knocks, then a third, knock-knock, knock. They agreed that meant someone looking for the bag was just outside, maybe the guy in the black glasses. He tried to make out what was going on outside the door, but all he could really do was keep trying combinations. Eventually there was another knock, just one, meaning the guy had left.

  When he gets the dials to 0500 he reflexively reads it as five o’clock, which makes him think of that one evening when he remembered looking at the time just when it displayed 5:00.

  He was home with Wataru, who was watching a kids’ show on TV. Kimura lay sprawled on the couch behind his son, pulling from a bottle of booze. It was a Monday but he was off work so he spent the whole day loafing around drinking. Then at 5 p.m. the doorbell rang. Probably a newspaper subscription guy, he guessed. He usually had Wataru get the door, since most people preferred being greeted by a friendly little kid than by a middle-aged drunk.

  But that time Kimura went to see who it was. Wataru was into his show, and Kimura felt like he should be getting up soon anyway.

  There was a kid at the door in school uniform.

  Kimura couldn’t figure out why a schoolboy might be ringing his doorbell and for some reason he thought it might be a pitch for a religious group. ‘We’re already saved, thanks.’

  ‘Sir.’ The boy’s tone was familiar, definitely not how you would talk to someone you’re just meeting for the first time, but it wasn’t a rude familiar. It was vulnerable. The kid looked like he was on the verge of tears.

  ‘Whaddayou want?’ The alcohol in Kimura’s system made it feel like he was seeing something that wasn’t really there, a mirage of a schoolboy. But then he remembered: he had seen this kid before, it was coming back to him. This was one of the boys he had crossed paths with twice before. The kid was gangly with a pale face and an oblong head that made Kimura think of a cucumber. His nose jutted out crookedly. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Sir, I need your help.’

  ‘Oh come on, seriously?’ Kimura wanted to close the door, wanted nothing to do with this, but it also bothered him enough to want to know what was going on. He stepped outside and grabbed the kid’s collar roughly, jerked him forward and threw him down. The cucumber-headed kid toppled over and sat on the ground snivelling. Kimura didn’t feel sorry for him. ‘How’d you know where I live? You’re one of those kids I’ve seen around. How’d you find me here?’

  ‘I followed you,’ he wailed, but it was a resolute wail.

  ‘You followed me?’

  ‘When I go for exam-prep lessons I ride by here on my bike. I saw you walking one time and I followed you back. That’s how I know where you live.’

  ‘How come sexy chicks never follow me? Or maybe that’s what you’re after. You like older guys or something?’ Kimura cracked a dumb joke to cover his fear, his sense that this kid was an ill omen, bringing something dark to his door.

  ‘No way. I just, there’s no one else that can help but you.’

  ‘The Prince again?’ Kimura exhaled roughly, down in the kid’s direction. He didn’t know if there was booze on his breath, but the kid’s expression made him think he must smell pretty foul.

  ‘… gonna die.’

  ‘No one’s gonna die from inhaling alcohol breath. It’s not like it’s cigarette smoke.’

  ‘No, Takeshi’s gonna die.’

  ‘Who’s Takeshi? Another one of your classmates?’ Kimura sounded fed up. ‘Last time it was someone who committed suicide. What kind of school do you go to, anyway? I’m definitely not sending my kid there.’

  ‘This time it isn’t suicide,’ Cucumber-head said urgently.

  ‘I don’t care what the hell you kids do.’ He was about to aim a kick at the kid and shout at him to get lost, but the boy spoke up quickly.

  ‘He’s not a person, he’s a dog. Takeshi is Tomoyasu’s dog.’

  This hit Kimura differently.

  ‘Wha? What do you mean, he’s a dog? You kids keep it confusing,’ he said, but now he was interested. He called back into the apartment, ‘Wataru, I’m going out. You just watch TV like a good boy, okay?’ Wataru answered back obediently. ‘All right, kid, tell me what’s going on.’

&nbs
p; Kimura often went to the park at the edge of the neighbourhood. There was a playground and a sandpit for the kids in front of a small wood of mixed trees. It was a nice park, uncommonly large for a residential neighbourhood.

  The kid filled Kimura in on the situation as they walked to the park.

  It started when one of their classmates whose father was a doctor and ran a private clinic said that they had a medical device that administered electric shocks. It was like an AED, for shocking a stopped heart back to life, but it was a prototype, stronger than the typical defibrillator.

  It was as straightforward to use as a normal AED. It had two electrode pads that were pressed on the chest to either side of the heart, and the pads fed data to an electrocardiogram. If the device determined that the heart needed a shock, you just pushed a button and let the current flow.

  ‘As soon as the Prince heard that, he was like, let’s see how strong it is.’

  Kimura made a sour face, like he’d swallowed an insect. ‘Your Prince sure is a noble guy to come up with an idea like that. So what happened?’

  ‘The kid with the doctor dad said the machine’s automatic, so it wouldn’t work on a human who was healthy.’

  ‘That how it works?’

  Cucumber-head frowned and shook his head. ‘He thought that saying that would make the Prince give up.’

  ‘But that’s just the kinda thing the Prince would wanna try, huh?’ The kid gave a pained nod.

  That day the Prince made the doctor’s kid steal the shock device. ‘So they’re gonna do it in the park?’

  ‘Everyone’s there.’

  ‘The machine’s for restarting a stopped heart, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So what would happen if you used it on a healthy person?’

  The kid’s face crumpled. ‘I asked the doctor’s kid that, you know, secretly. He said his dad said that it’d kill the person.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘AEDs are automatic, so it wouldn’t work, but this one’s a prototype, and it’s stronger.’