Bullet Train

by Kotaro Isaka

  Shigeru Kimura leans back against the wall and looks up at their old clock. Five after eleven. ‘If we leave now we should be able to make Mizusawa-Esashi easily enough.’

  ‘Are you really getting on the Shinkansen? You’re serious?’

  Kimura had gone out earlier to pass the community circular to the neighbours, so he is already dressed in his khaki slacks and deep-green jacket. All set, he says to himself, and then, ‘Aren’t you coming too?’

  ‘Of course I’m not.’

  ‘If I’m going, then you’re going.’

  ‘You really want me to go?’

  ‘We always did this together back then.’

  ‘That is true. There are more than a few times where you only made it out alive because I was there. I’m sure you remember. Though I’m not sure I remember you ever thanking me. Really, though, it’s been thirty years …!’ Akiko stands and rubs the muscles on her legs, grumbling about stiffness and aching knees.

  ‘It’s just like riding a bike. Your body knows what to do.’

  ‘I think it’s very much different from riding a bike. These are nerves you have to use to keep sharp. Our nerves are so far from being sharp, they’re like fluffy cotton.’

  Now Shigeru steps up onto the chair to the cabinet and pulls out two rolled-up garments, which he tosses on the floor.

  ‘Oh, those waistcoats bring me back. Although I suppose people don’t call them waistcoats any more, nowadays they say vests.’ Akiko runs her hand over one of the vests. Then she hands the other to Shigeru. ‘This one’s yours. We could combine the two and call them vestcoats!’

  Shigeru makes a long-suffering face as he pulls off his jacket and slips on the leather vest. Then he puts his jacket back on over it.

  ‘What do you plan to do once we’re on the Shinkansen?’

  ‘I want to find out what’s going on with Yuichi. He said he was going up to Morioka.’

  ‘And you don’t think it’s all just some sort of prank?’

  ‘That schoolkid, although I don’t even know if he actually is a schoolkid, but regardless – there’s something I don’t like about him.’

  ‘Still, do you really think all this is necessary?’ After pulling on her own vest, Akiko looks down at the tools of their trade, laid out atop the open furoshiki.

  ‘My alarm bells are ringing. We need to be prepared. Luckily it’s not a plane and you don’t have to go through security to get on the Shinkansen. Hey, the hammer on this thing is messed up.’

  ‘You don’t want to use that revolver anyway. The shell casings fly everywhere and you’re always so eager to shoot, I’d rather you have a weapon with a safety.’ Akiko takes one of the guns and loads a magazine into the handle. It slides into place with a heavy click. She immediately pulls back the slide. ‘This one will do. Take this one.’

  ‘I clean that one regularly.’ Shigeru takes the gun from Akiko and slips it into one of the twin holsters built into his vest.

  ‘The gun might be in good working condition, but it’s been thirty years for you. Are you sure you’ll be able to use it?’

  ‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’

  ‘What about Wataru? I’m more worried about him.’

  ‘He’s in the hospital. I don’t imagine anything too terrible could happen to him there. And I can’t think of any reason why he’d be in any particular danger. Don’t you think?’

  ‘Maybe there’s someone from back then who has a grudge against us and wants to take it out on him?’

  Shigeru Kimura freezes in mid-motion, then turns to look at his wife. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘Thirty years have gone by, and we’ve become senior citizens. Someone who was scared of us back then might think that now’s their chance.’

  ‘Then they thought wrong. You and I are just as dangerous as we were back then,’ says Shigeru. ‘Although these past few years we have been doting on Wataru.’

  ‘True enough.’ Akiko starts to check the other guns. Her hands seem to move of their own accord, practised movements, with the quiet thrill of handling a favourite toy from childhood. Akiko was always more careful with guns than he was, and she was a better shot too. She chooses a gun and inserts it into her holster, then buttons up her jacket.

  Kimura steps over to the phone and finds the number from the most recent call, which he writes down on a notepad. Just in case, he also copies the number for the hospital. ‘Do you remember Shigeru’s number? The other Shigeru. He’s the only person we know in Tokyo.’

  ‘I wonder how Shigeru’s doing. Shall we go, dear? If we don’t leave now we might miss our train.’

  The Prince

  THE HAYATE APPROACHES ICHINOSEKI STATION. The platform appears, then starts to slide by. As the train slows, Nanao adjusts his black-framed glasses and stands in front of the door. ‘All right, Mr Suzuki, I’m leaving this kid in your hands as far as Morioka.’

  ‘As long as you’re all right with that,’ responds the man who claims to be an exam-prep instructor. The Prince can’t tell if it’s addressed to him or to Nanao, but either way it’s more or less meaningless, so he ignores it.

  ‘Are you really leaving me?’ he calls out to Nanao’s back. Thoughts work at high speed. Should I let him get off the train? Or should I try to stop him? His whole plan in going to Morioka was just to check out this Minegishi. Since he had Kimura along for the ride, he thought he would try to use him to test Minegishi, but now Kimura’s out of the picture, barely breathing if he’s even still alive, playing floor mat for two dead fruits.

  So maybe I should use Nanao instead. To do that, he needs to find out how to control Nanao. How to put Nanao’s will on a collar and lead. The only thing is, he doesn’t have the key to keep the collar locked. With Kimura, the key was his son’s life, and the Prince was also able to make good use of Kimura’s hatred for him. But he doesn’t yet know Nanao’s weak spot.

  Given how deftly Nanao broke Tangerine’s neck, it seems obvious enough that he’s not a law-abiding individual, so it isn’t hard to imagine that by digging a little the Prince could find some vulnerability to exploit.

  Then should I do whatever I can to stop him from getting off? Probably not. That would just make him think I was up to something. I may just have to accept that he’s getting off the train. The Prince continues his inner dialogue.

  I think I’ll just go to Morioka, have a look at Minegishi’s compound and head back to Tokyo. I’ll deal with Minegishi when I’m fully prepared, he decides. He may have lost Kimura, but he has plenty of other pawns. Best to come back when they’re all lined up.

  ‘Could I at least have your phone number?’ he asks. It seems like he should hang on to a means of contacting Nanao. Maybe he can become one of my pawns too. ‘I’m worried about what might happen. If I knew I could call you …’

  Next to him, Suzuki makes a noise of agreement. ‘That’s a good idea. I’d like to be able to get in touch when we reach Morioka, to let you know everything is okay.’

  Nanao looks flustered, but reflexively takes his phone out. ‘We’re at the station, I need to get off,’ he says agitatedly.

  Then the Shinkansen comes to a stop. It lurches forward, then settles back. The movement is more than the Prince expected, and he staggers once.

  Nanao staggers much more. He crashes into the wall and drops his phone, which bounces on the floor then skids into the luggage area, right between two large suitcases, like a squirrel that fell from a tree and scurried down a hollow among the roots.

  Nanao leaves behind his own suitcase and leaps towards the luggage area to retrieve his phone.

  The Shinkansen’s doors open.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ Nanao sputters, down on one knee and contorting his body to reach between the bags, grasping frantically. He can’t reach, so he stands back up and hauls one of the large bags out, then ducks back down and finally scoops up his phone. He stands again, only to bash his head on the luggage rack.

  The Prince just stares, a
mazed. He is a total mess.

  Hands pressed to his head, Nanao gets to his feet and tucks back in the suitcase he had pulled out. Then he staggers absurdly towards the open door.

  It slides shut in front of him, without the least shred of compassion.

  Nanao’s shoulders slump.

  The Prince doesn’t know what to say next.

  The train eases forward, back into motion.

  Hand still gripping the handle of his suitcase, Nanao doesn’t look surprised, and not at all embarrassed. ‘This sort of thing happens to me all the time. Pretty much standard at this point.’

  ‘Well, what are we doing standing around here? Let’s go take a seat,’ suggests Suzuki.

  After leaving Sendai, the already sparsely populated train is almost empty, so there’s no need for them to go back to their original seats. They enter the next car, number eight, and sit down together in the vacant first row. ‘I’m too scared to be alone,’ the Prince says convincingly, and the two adults believe him. Nanao takes the seat by the window, the Prince sits in the middle, and Suzuki is by the aisle.

  The conductor comes by so Suzuki explains they switched seats. The uniformed young man doesn’t even ask to check their tickets, just grins and nods and walks on.

  Nanao looks glum, and murmurs to himself, ‘It’s not so bad.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Oh, just thinking that compared to my usual bad luck this wasn’t such a big deal.’

  There’s a sad heroism in Nanao’s tone, and he’s clearly trying to convince himself of what he’s saying. Maybe his luck left him and came to me. Unable to understand what it’s like to be unlucky, the Prince can’t find the right words to say.

  ‘Since you’re still here, you might as well stay with the boy until we get to Morioka,’ Suzuki suggests genially. He sounds like he’s encouraging a student who failed an exam, a tone particular to teachers that makes the Prince’s skin crawl, but of course he doesn’t let that show.

  ‘Yes, please,’ he chimes in. ‘I’d love it if you could stay with me.’

  ‘I’m going to go and have a look at the green car.’ Suzuki gets up with an air of relief that the problem has been solved and he’s no longer responsible. This instructor has no idea that there are dangerous men and dead bodies on the Shinkansen, hasn’t seen any guns being waved around, which is why he can be so easy-going. Ignorance is bliss, Mr Suzuki, thinks the Prince as he watches the man retreat up the aisle.

  He turns to Nanao, now that it’s just the two of them. ‘Thank you so much,’ he says, trying to sound as relieved as he can. ‘I feel so much better with you here.’

  ‘That’s kind of you to say,’ Nanao replies with a chuckle. ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me. All I ever have is bad luck.’

  The Prince bites his lip to keep from laughing at the thought of Nanao’s slapstick performance in the gangway. ‘What do you do for a living, Mr Nanao?’ Not that he doesn’t have an idea. Probably in the same line of work as Tangerine and Lemon, helping other people to commit their crimes. Another small thinker.

  ‘I live on the Shinkansen,’ Nanao says, frowning. ‘I can’t get off at any station. I must be cursed. You saw what happened just now at Ichinoseki. Something like that always happens. I’ll be on this train for the next ten years.’ Then he seems to become aware of how stupid he sounds. ‘Never mind.’ After a second, he says, ‘Can’t you guess what I do? You saw it, before.’

  ‘You not being able to get off the train?’

  ‘No, I’m being serious now. Before then. I do jobs. Dirty work.’

  ‘But you seem like such a good person, Mr Nanao.’ He tries to transmit a message to the man: I’m a defenceless child, you’re the only one I can count on, I trust you. The Prince’s first step is to make Nanao feel the urge to protect him.

  This man is so bereft of luck, has such low self-esteem, that it should be simple to gain influence over him and rob him of his free will.

  ‘You’re confused right now and you don’t really know what’s going on, but I can tell you for certain I am not a good person. I’m no hero. I kill people.’

  You’re the one who’s confused, the Prince wants to say. I know exactly what’s going on.

  ‘But you saved me. I feel much safer with you than I do on my own.’

  ‘Well, maybe.’ Nanao speaks softly, and though he looks put out he’s also blushing.

  Once more the Prince has to fight to keep from laughing. His sense of duty switched on so his thinking switched off. Automatic. Like a middle-aged man grinning at a compliment from a woman. Pathetic.

  He looks out the window. Rice paddies race by; in the distance the mountain ridges inch along.

  In no time they’re approaching Mizusawa-Esashi. The Prince wonders if Nanao will try to get off again, but he seems to have made up his mind to stay on until Morioka. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in the gangway when he can’t get off again. Whatever the case may be, Nanao doesn’t show any reaction to the station announcement.

  There’s still a chance that Nanao will have a sudden change of heart and burst out of the seat for the exit. But the Shinkansen pulls into Mizusawa-Esashi Station, the doors open, then close, and the train pulls away. Nanao just leans back in his seat, sighs with resignation, and stares into space.

  The Shinkansen continues northward.

  After a few minutes a phone starts buzzing. The Prince checks his own phone, then addresses Nanao. ‘Mr Nanao, is that your phone ringing?’

  Nanao comes to with a start and fumbles in his pocket, then shakes his head. ‘Not me.’

  ‘Oh –’ The Prince realises it’s Kimura’s phone. He takes it out of the front pocket of his backpack. ‘It was that man’s from before.’

  ‘From before? Who, the one you were with?’

  ‘His name was Mr Kimura. Hey, it looks like it’s from a payphone.’ He stares at the screen for a moment, thinking about what to do. There’s no reason he can think of that anyone would be calling Kimura from a payphone. ‘Should I answer it?’

  Nanao just shakes his head. ‘None of my decisions ever lead anywhere good. You need to decide for yourself. But if you do answer, you probably don’t need to go into the gangway. There’s barely anyone else in the car.’

  The Prince nods and answers the phone. ‘Yuichi, is that you?’ asks the voice on the line. Kimura’s mother, guesses the Prince. He feels a rush of elation. She must have heard about his earlier phone call from her husband and been beside herself with worry. No doubt she was imagining all the awful things that could have befallen her son and grandson, her anxiety multiplying until she couldn’t stand it any more and picked up the phone. There’s no fear quite as delightful to him as that of a parent for their child. She must have been so racked with fear that it took her longer than he’d have expected to call.

  ‘Oh, he’s not here,’ answers the Prince. Then he starts working out the best way to fan the flames of her anguish.

  ‘And where are you right now?’

  ‘I’m still on the Shinkansen. The Hayate.’

  ‘I know that. I mean what number car?’

  ‘Even if I told you, what good would that do?’

  ‘We thought we’d come and see you. My husband and I.’

  The Prince notices for the first time that Kimura’s mother sounds unusually calm. Stable, like a mighty tree with roots dug deep.

  The door behind him opens.

  He turns, phone still pressed up against his ear, just as a man walks in. Medium height and build, white hair and a deep-green-coloured jacket. Thick brows shade his narrow eyes, which are hard and piercing.

  The Prince cranes his neck awkwardly to get a better look at the man standing over his shoulder. A smile spreads across the man’s face. ‘So you really are a schoolboy.’

  Nanao

  HE LOOKS LIKE A HAPPY retiree, ruddy-cheeked and easy-going, and he steps up to the row in front of where Nanao and the kid sit. The
n the man stomps on the lever and roughly swivels the seats around.

  Now the two rows of three-seaters are facing one another. The man sits opposite them, a look of challenge on his face. It all happens too quickly for Nanao to protest. Before he can process it, there they all are, like three generations on a family trip.

  The door behind them slides open again and a woman appears, also past retirement age. ‘Ah, here you are.’ She sits down next to the man, facing them, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. ‘I found you much more quickly than I thought I would, dear.’ Then she looks over Nanao and the schoolkid as if she’s inspecting the merchandise.

  Thrown off by the sudden arrival of this strange couple it takes Nanao several moments before he manages to open his mouth. ‘Um –’

  ‘You know,’ the woman cuts him off, ‘it’s my first time using the payphone in the Shinkansen, but I didn’t see any phone wires. How do you think it connects the call?’

  ‘Who knows, maybe through the electric line on the track.’

  ‘We should really get mobile phones. It would make things so much easier.’

  ‘I’m just glad that Yuichi’s phone can receive calls from the on-board payphone. I hear there are some service providers that don’t let you.’

  ‘Is that right?’ The woman directs the question to Nanao. How should I know? he wonders.

  ‘Excuse me, grandpa, grandma, but what are you …’ The kid trails off. He looks nervous.

  It’s true they’re an older couple, but they don’t look at all diminished by age, certainly not enough to be called grandpa and grandma. Maybe for a schoolkid there’s nothing else it makes sense to call them, Nanao muses dazedly, but then the man speaks up.

  ‘You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?’

  ‘Wha –’ The kid sounds startled.

  ‘You’re treating us like useless old-timers on purpose. You didn’t just randomly call us grandpa and grandma. Am I wrong?’