by Kotaro Isaka
‘Now, dear, don’t frighten the boy,’ the woman says lightly. ‘This is why people have no patience for older folks.’
‘This one’s no cute little boy. He chooses his words very carefully. And he stinks.’
‘I stink?’ The kid makes a sulky face. ‘That’s not a nice thing to say, when we’re just meeting for the first time. I didn’t mean anything bad by calling you grandpa.’
‘We may be meeting in person for the first time, but you know me. I’m Kimura. You called me just a little while ago.’ The man grins. His voice is mild, but his eyes are piercing. ‘What you said on the phone worried me, so we rushed over to catch the train at Mizusawa-Esashi.’
The kid opens his mouth in an aah of recognition, like he’s putting the pieces together. ‘You must be Mr Kimura’s parents.’
‘I guess you could say we’re a little overprotective, to come rushing when our son is in a scrape. Where is Yuichi, anyway?’
Nanao puts the pieces together too. Yuichi Kimura is the man this kid was with, the man on the floor in the toilet. But why would the kid have called Kimura’s father?
‘You said it to me yourself, on the phone. Yuichi is in trouble, and my grandson Wataru is in danger too.’
‘Oh, that was just –’ The kid falls silent. His lips seem to be squirming.
‘You said, You and your wife must be relaxing, I probably shouldn’t have called. Remember?’
‘That was just –’ He looks at his lap. ‘They made me say that. Mr Kimura threatened me. Him and another man.’
What other man? As Nanao sits listening, he takes in the kid’s profile. Well-proportioned face, perfect nose, beautifully shaped head. It’s like looking at an elegant piece of pottery. A memory wells up, of a rich classmate telling him that he should try to become a footballer or a criminal if he ever wanted to escape poverty. That classmate had the same type of pristine looks. Guess the lucky ones even look the part.
‘He’s just an ordinary schoolkid, who got wrapped up in a dangerous situation. You don’t need to be so hard on him.’ Nanao intervenes before he can stop himself.
‘Just an ordinary schoolkid, huh?’ The man looks at Nanao. His face is wrinkled and dry. But there’s an undeniable dignity there, like a great tree standing firm even as its bark is peeling off, with a thick trunk that the fiercest of winds can’t shake. ‘I don’t think he’s just an ordinary schoolkid.’
As the words leave the man’s mouth his hand darts into his jacket.
Nanao reacts, a purely automatic motion. He whips the gun out of the back of his belt, at the same instant the man draws his gun and aims it at the kid.
They’re all sitting so close that both the kid and the man have guns inches from their faces. The whole scene feels surreal to Nanao. Usually when people have their seats facing like this it’s so they can chat and play cards. Yet here they are with two guns drawn.
The man wags the gun at the kid’s nose. ‘If you tell us the truth you might still get out of this alive, my young friend.’
‘Dear, if you don’t take that out of his face he won’t be able to tell you anything even if he wants to,’ says the woman soothingly. She seems entirely relaxed.
‘Come on, this is crazy.’ Nanao doesn’t like how quickly things have escalated. ‘If you don’t put your gun away, I’ll shoot.’
The man looks at Nanao’s gun as if he’s noticing it for the first time. ‘Give me a break. That thing’s not even loaded.’
Nanao’s mouth clamps shut. It’s true, the magazine is in the trash. But how did he know that? It doesn’t seem like something someone could tell with a mere glance. ‘What are you talking about, of course it’s loaded.’
‘Okay, then give it a go. I’ll shoot too.’
Nanao is embarrassed at being treated like an amateur, but now isn’t the time to worry about ego. He slowly puts the empty gun back in his belt, keeping his eyes on the man.
‘Do you even have tickets? The Shinkansen is all reserved seating, you know.’ The kid’s voice is level.
‘Don’t give me any of your crap. Anyway, all the tickets were sold out.’
‘Sold out?’ Nanao looks around the nearly empty car. ‘But there’s basically no one here.’
‘I know, it’s very strange. Maybe a group tour cancelled at the last minute. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like the conductor’s going to kick us off. So. Where is Yuichi? What happened to him? And what’s happening with Wataru?’
‘I don’t really know,’ the kid says darkly. ‘All I know is that if I don’t make it to Morioka, something bad will happen to Wataru, there in the hospital.’
Nanao stares at the kid’s profile again. Based on what he’s hearing now, the little boy the kid said would be in danger if he didn’t reach Morioka must be the couple’s grandson. The connection between the couple and the schoolkid still isn’t clear.
But there’s something that he wants to know even more: Who the hell are these two? A closer look makes him think that the woman also has a weapon under her jacket. Granny with a gun? They both seem so in control of themselves that it’s hard to imagine they’re ordinary citizens. No, they’re professionals. I’ve never heard about professionals this old.
Nanao doesn’t know what he’s fallen into, but it’s more than obvious that the man thinks the kid is his enemy. Doesn’t make sense. Nothing on this whole trip has made any sense, and this least of all. A couple of retirees with guns, interrogating a school student.
Just then a phone starts vibrating with an incoming call. It buzzes merrily, like it’s poking fun at the four people sitting there.
They all sit there, holding their breath, listening. Everything else around them seems to go quiet.
Nanao feels for his phone over his trouser pocket, but his isn’t the one buzzing.
Oh, says the kid, shifting his backpack onto his lap and opening the zip. ‘That’s my phone.’
‘Don’t move.’ The man jabs at him with the muzzle of the gun. They’re so close that it looks more like he’s threatening the kid with a knife.
‘But my phone –’
‘Stay still and forget about it.’
Under their words Nanao can hear the buzzing. He counts, three times, four. ‘You know I really should answer this.’
‘What’s wrong with him just answering the phone?’ Nanao has no real reason for saying this. It’s more like the feeling a parent has when they want to cover for their child who’s broken a school rule.
‘No way.’ The man is unyielding. ‘I don’t like this one. He says he’s just answering the phone, but he’s up to something.’
‘Really, dear, what could he possibly be up to?’ The woman is as sunny as ever.
‘I don’t know exactly. But what I do know is that when you’re up against a smart guy, you can’t let them do anything they want to. Absolutely never. Doesn’t matter how small a thing it is, they’ll be up to something that we can’t see. One time I was facing down a guy who ran a ramen shop. I had my gun on him. And not because the ramen was bad. I was telling him to hand over something, some important package, I forget what it was. Suddenly the phone in the shop starts ringing. The ramen guy said if he didn’t pick up someone might think something was wrong. I thought he had a point, so I played nice and let him answer. Don’t say anything funny, I told him. He picks up and starts taking some orders, miso ramen, chashu ramen, like someone’s calling for delivery. But what I didn’t know was it was a code. Not five minutes later the reinforcements showed up, a bunch of bad characters. We had a shootout in that tiny little ramen shop. Of course I survived, but it was a real pain in the ass. Or there was another time when I was in some office somewhere leaning on the boss. The phone rang and I was nice enough to let him answer. The second he did, bang! So what does all this tell us?’
‘That thirty years ago we didn’t have mobile phones,’ says the woman sarcastically.
She’s obviously heard these stories countless times.
‘No, it tel
ls us that in situations like these it’s never good when a call comes in.’
‘Or at least it wasn’t thirty years ago,’ she chortles.
‘It’s true today too.’
Nanao looks towards the schoolkid. The backpack is now on the seat between them, open. The kid seems to be thinking about something, concentrating. Doubt creeps into Nanao’s mind. The juvenile fear the kid had emanated when he was begging for help has evaporated. Now his calmness, so steady even with a gun on him, seems strange. Before, Nanao had chalked it up to shock, but the kid seems just fine now.
Then something catches Nanao’s eye. In the open backpack he can see something peeking out that looks like the grip of a gun. A gun? Why does a schoolkid have a gun? Did he put it in there? No answers come to him. The only thing that’s certain is that there’s a gun in the backpack.
And, Nanao thinks, trying to look natural, I can use that.
Nanao’s own gun isn’t loaded. The man knows that. Which means he’s under the impression that Nanao is unarmed. He wouldn’t be expecting Nanao to pull a gun out of the backpack. The couple and the kid are both dangerous. Anything could happen, and if he isn’t careful he could end up hurt, or worse. If I get the gun, I can get control of the situation.
He starts to focus, watching for his chance to snatch the gun. If he makes a mistake he’ll be shot for certain.
The phone stops buzzing.
‘Oh. Whoever was calling gave up.’ The kid lowers his face.
‘If it was important they’ll call back,’ the man snaps.
There’s a small pulsing of air, a staccato exhalation through the nose. Nanao glances at the kid and then double-takes: his head is down, he’s biting his lips, unable to contain his laughter.
The Prince
HIS WHOLE BODY TREMBLES WITH the laugh he’s trying to fight down, a laughter welling up from the deepest parts of him, which he can’t completely hide. This old man is the same as all the rest, he gloats. Acting so tough, making such a big deal of how much more experienced he is than me, like this is the easiest thing in the world for him, but in the end he’s just another victim of overconfidence, too blind to see the pitfall even after he’s stumbled in.
The missed call was almost definitely the man at the hospital in Tokyo. He must have had a question, or maybe the reality of what he was doing started to set in and he got fidgety, or maybe he was just tired of waiting.
They had set it so that if the phone rang more than ten times and the Prince didn’t answer, the man should go ahead with the job. And just now it had rung far more than ten times without the Prince answering.
He doesn’t know for sure if the man will be bold enough to go through with it, but judging from his lucky life so far right about now the man will be on his way to Wataru Kimura’s room with murderous intent. The Prince is used to people and animals behaving exactly as he wants them to.
This is your fault, he wants so badly to tell the man in front of him. You thought threatening me with a gun would give you the advantage but all it did was cost your precious grandson his life. He almost feels sorry for the old man, feels a giddy urge to console him. At the same time he’s begun calculating how to make use of this development. If he does it right he can even control this old couple. First he’ll share with them news of their tragedy then feast on the sight of the man blindsided by anguish and the woman blank with shock, and after that he’ll play on their guilt, rob them of their powers of decision-making, place their hearts in chains. I’ll just do what I always do.
But not yet. It’s easy to picture what would happen if he told them their grandson was in grave danger: the man would go berserk and wave his gun around, probably call the hospital and entreat them to save the boy. This particular information needed to be kept hidden for a little while longer.
‘Hey,’ says the man. ‘Talk. Or I’ll shoot you before you ever get to Morioka.’
‘Why?’ blurts Nanao. ‘Why are you so set on shooting him?’
‘Really, I swear, I don’t know what’s going on!’ The Prince rides on Nanao’s momentum and returns to being a panicked schoolboy.
‘Do you really think this child is lying, dear? It doesn’t look that way to me.’ The woman’s face reminds him for a moment of his own departed grandmother. There’s a breath of nostalgia, but no affection. More than anything he feels reassured she’ll be easy to manipulate. Old people can’t help but smile at children and treat them indulgently. It’s not a question of human morality or duty, it’s pure animal instinct. Creatures of the same species must protect the newer lives among them. They’re designed that way. ‘But where is Yuichi? Did he get off at Sendai? Is that why he can’t come to the phone any more?’
‘I’m telling you, this kid stinks.’ The man leans back in his seat and thrusts his chin at the Prince. But he also puts the gun away in the vest under his jacket. He hasn’t let down his guard, but he feels a bit less aggressive. ‘Either way. Let’s check on Wataru. I asked Shigeru to look in on him but the whole thing was so rushed I can’t be sure if he’s on top of it.’
‘Shigeru is somewhat careless,’ laughs the woman.
They sent someone to the hospital?
‘Shall I go to the payphone and give him a call?’
This is bad, thinks the Prince. I need to buy some time.
Then Nanao asks, ‘Is your grandson sick?’ The Prince is grateful for Nanao’s question.
Now they’ll waste time talking. Because I’m so lucky.
‘He fell off the roof of a department store. He’s been in a coma in the hospital since.’ The man’s answer is blunt, maybe so that he won’t let his emotion show.
The Prince brings his fingertips to his mouth. ‘Oh no, really?’ He makes a shocked face, like it’s the first time he’s hearing about it. ‘From the roof? He must have been so scared!’
But inwardly he’s grinning ear to ear. He remembers the uncomprehending terror on the little boy’s face, that moment he shoved him out into space.
The man continues, his voice husky. ‘Wataru being in a coma is like when the goddess Amaterasu hid her light away in the cave. The whole world is dark. We need all the other gods to dance and laugh and call Wataru back. Otherwise this awful darkness will never leave.’
The Prince strains to keep his laughter in. You’re the only ones in the dark. The rest of the world is just fine. It really doesn’t matter if your grandson lives or dies.
‘What do the doctors say?’ asks Nanao.
‘They’re doing everything they can, but there’s not much you can do really. They say he could wake up any time, or he might never wake up.’
‘You must be so worried,’ says Nanao softly.
The man gives a warm smile. ‘Whereas you, young man, you don’t smell at all. I’m almost shocked, I don’t get any bad intent off you. But from the way you pulled out that gun, I’d guess you’re in the same line of work as us. So what gives? It’s not that you feel fresh because you’re new to this, since I wouldn’t say that you are.’
‘No, I’ve been doing this for a little while now.’ Nanao smiles ironically. ‘I just have terrible luck. So when I hear about the bad things happening to people it’s easy for me to imagine how they feel.’
‘Um, there’s something I’ve been wondering for a while,’ says the Prince, hoping to keep them talking, instead of making a phone call.
‘And what’s that?’ The man gives him a look both dubious and irritated.
‘I wonder if we know the answer to his question,’ muses the woman.
‘Why is it wrong to kill people?’ Same question as always. The question that always shocks grown-ups, that they try to swat away with platitudes, that they can never answer.
‘Oh –’ Nanao makes a sudden noise. The Prince turns, thinking maybe he’s about to try telling him why, but he sees that Nanao is looking towards the front of the train. ‘– here comes Mr Suzuki.’
Sure enough, Suzuki the exam-prep instructor is making his way down the a
isle.
‘Who’s he?’ The man draws his gun again and points it at Nanao.
‘Just someone I met on board. We’re not friends or anything, we just talked a few times. He’s a civilian. He doesn’t know that I have a gun. He’s just a teacher at an exam-prep school. He was worried about the kid and was sitting with us,’ Nanao explains quickly. ‘That’s why he’s coming this way.’
‘I wouldn’t trust him,’ says the man. ‘You sure he’s not a professional?’ He squeezes the grip of the gun.
‘If you think he is, then shoot him when he comes over here,’ Nanao says firmly. ‘But you’ll be sorry you did. Mr Suzuki’s a good, honest man.’
The woman leans out into the aisle and props her hand on the armrest so she can turn round to get a look. She turns back after only a moment. ‘As far as I can tell he’s just an ordinary man. He doesn’t look like he’s up to anything, and he obviously isn’t armed. The only mischief he might have been up to was seeing what it felt like to sit in the green car, and now he’s back.’
‘You think so?’ asks the man.
‘You’re exactly right, ma’am.’ Nanao nods his head earnestly.
The man puts his hand inside his jacket pocket, still gripping the gun and aiming it at Nanao through the fabric. ‘If anything feels off, I’ll shoot.’
Then Suzuki steps up to them. ‘Well, it certainly has got lively over here. And who are these people?’
The woman’s eyes crinkle into a smile. ‘We got on at the last station, and we just thought it would be so lonesome, just the two of us old folks in an empty train, and these two young men were kind enough to let us sit with them.’ She spools off the made-up story, cool as a cucumber.
‘Ah, I see,’ nods Suzuki. ‘Isn’t this nice!’
‘He said you’re a schoolteacher?’ The man’s voice is low and his eyes are sharp. He doesn’t blink once.
‘At an exam-preparation school. I suppose you could call me a teacher.’
‘Well, that’s just what we need. Have a seat. Next to granny.’ He motions Suzuki to the aisle seat, facing Nanao and the Prince. Suzuki follows along, and as soon as he’s seated the man continues. ‘This kid just asked a heavy question.’ He already seems to have cleared Suzuki of any suspicion, though he may just be keeping an eye out for the right moment to start shooting.
