Bullet Train

by Kotaro Isaka

  A station attendant comes right over and inspects Nanao’s ticket, then cocks his head quizzically. ‘There’s no problem with your ticket, I wonder why it isn’t working. Give it a try at the last turnstile, down there.’

  ‘It’s fine, I’m used to this sort of thing,’ Nanao says with a good-natured grimace. He takes his ticket and walks to the end of the row.

  Ladybeetle

  AN ICY WIND BLOWS OUTSIDE, the temperature unusually low even for early December. So much for the warm winter they’ve been talking about, thinks Nanao glumly. The sky looks like it could lose its grip on the cords fastening it shut at any moment, open up and dump snow down everywhere.

  He’s at a large supermarket near Urushigahara Station, the kind that stocks everything from food and household items to stationary and toys. There’s nothing in particular that he wants to buy, but he heads towards the registers with a box of mochi. Each of the open lanes has five or so people lined up. He tries to gauge which will be the fastest and settles on the second from the left.

  His phone rings and he brings it up to his ear. ‘Where are you?’ asks Maria.

  ‘In a supermarket,’ Nanao answers, then gives the name and location.

  ‘What are you doing all the way out there? There are plenty of supermarkets near my place. I have whole bunch of stuff to tell you – hurry up and get here already.’

  ‘I’ll head your way as soon as I’m done here. But all the checkout lines are crowded.’

  ‘I bet your line moves the slowest.’

  Based on his past experience, Nanao would have to agree.

  The customer at the front of his line finishes paying and moves on. The line shifts forward like it’s on an automated track, taking Nanao along.

  ‘So that schoolkid you were asking about,’ says Maria.

  ‘What did you find out?’

  The events on the Shinkansen two months back shook up the whole country. News that multiple bodies had been found in the bathrooms and passenger seats naturally made people clamour for more information. But as the police investigation continued it became clear that none of the deceased were regular citizens: they were all shady characters in dubious circumstances, even down to the woman who was working the snack trolley. Most of the media adopted the vague language of the police and reported it as a feud within the criminal underworld. Basically shutting their eyes to any details not accounted for in the prescribed explanation. They must have felt they needed to settle the issue before people got scared about taking the train, which is to say, before there could be any damage to the national economy, so the accepted line became that this incident was an exceptional case, and that normal people didn’t have to worry about anything like it happening to them. As for Minegishi, it was reported that a prominent resident of Iwate died suddenly at the train station due to difficulty breathing. The fact that it happened to be on the same platform as the death train was chalked up to pure coincidence, and no connection was drawn. Minegishi’s bloody career and vast network of influence were never mentioned in the news.

  Surprisingly, Kimura, the man who was with the schoolkid, was discovered in the toilet still alive. He was rushed to the hospital where his condition was stabilised. There was no further reporting on that story.

  ‘What I found out was that there were signs of a gunshot found in car eight where you were sitting. But there was no blood.’

  There’s no information about what happened to the schoolkid and that older couple. From what Nanao saw, he has no doubt that the man would have shot, schoolkid or not. Then he likely would have carried the kid out, making it look like he was helping his sickly grandson.

  ‘I looked into cases of fourteen-year-olds from Tokyo who’ve gone missing, but found out that there are a ton. What’s this country coming to? Nothing but missing kids. Though I did hear about a small body that was found at the port in Sendai. The body couldn’t be identified.’

  ‘I wonder if it was that kid.’

  ‘Could be, could be someone else. If you want me to I could probably get you pictures of all the kids that have gone missing.’

  ‘Nah, don’t worry about it.’ Searching through those would be too depressing. ‘What about the professional, Kimura?’

  ‘Seems he’s not walking yet, but he’s doing a lot better than he was. His kid’s with him all the time, quite the heart-warming scene.’

  ‘No, I don’t mean him. His father, and his mother too. They’re in their sixties. The Kimuras.’

  ‘Oh, them,’ Maria says excitedly. ‘The stories I heard about them. Legendary. You met some big fish, let me tell you.’ She sounds like she’s jealous of him having got to see a famous musician perform at the end of their career.

  ‘They just looked to me like happy retirees.’

  ‘Well, if the stories I heard are true, then your schoolkid might be dead but no one’ll ever find the body.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Those old-time professionals, when they get serious, they can be pretty extreme.’

  ‘What do you mean by extreme, exactly?’ And although Nanao asks the question, he cuts her off before she can answer, never mind, he says, he doesn’t want to hear about anyone getting chopped into pieces or whatever she was about to say.

  It turns out that there were multiple men with gunshot wounds found around car eight in the train at Morioka, all screaming in agony. Each one had been shot through both shoulders and both legs, immobilising them. It could only have been the work of the Kimuras. They must have shot their way out of the train when it was crawling with Minegishi’s men. It’s hard for Nanao to picture the old couple in action, putting bullets in the same exact spot on numerous people as if stamping them with an official seal, but it had to have been them.

  ‘And there’s something else I’ve been thinking.’

  ‘Tell me when I get there.’

  ‘Just a preview.’ Maria seems excited to share her theory with him. ‘I think maybe our job didn’t come from Minegishi, but from the Hornets.’

  ‘What? But you were the one who said we were subcontracting for Minegishi.’

  ‘True. But that was just a guess.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘If the Hornets were going after Minegishi and his son, then Tangerine and Lemon would have been in the way. Having us steal the bag would have thrown those two off.’

  ‘You think we were a diversion?’ Nanao can’t quite believe it.

  ‘Exactly. They needed an opening to get the son with a poison needle. Which would be why they hired us to steal the bag.’

  ‘If that’s the case, then the person who contacted you with the bag’s location after the train left Tokyo would have been either the snack trolley girl or the conductor, one of the two,’ Nanao reasons. ‘Both of them could move through the train and check on things without raising suspicion.’

  ‘It could even be that they were the ones who contacted Minegishi along the way, to keep things on the train confusing. They might have been the ones who told him something isn’t right, come to Morioka.’

  ‘Why would they have –’ But then it clicks. So that they could kill Minegishi too. Getting him to come to the station would make things easier for them.

  They finish the conversation and Nanao hangs up. The line for the register has barely moved. He looks over his shoulder and sees that more people have filed into place behind him. Then he notices someone, there at the back of the line, and he almost calls out.

  It’s the exam-prep instructor, Suzuki. Dressed in a suit, looking healthy, a basket full of groceries in one hand. He notices Nanao and his eyes widen, but almost immediately he relaxes into a smile, pleased at the chance reunion. Though they barely know each other, it feels almost as if they’re old friends.

  Nanao nods, and Suzuki bobs his head in response. Then he gets a look like he’s suddenly remembered something important and moves to a different line from Nanao.

  The jangle of loose change rings out. Nanao turns bac
k round and sees at the front of the line an old lady who has accidentally upended her purse. She stoops hurriedly to gather the fallen coins, the people behind her bending over to lend a hand. One coin skitters over to Nanao’s feet where it spins in a neat circle. He tries to grab it but keeps missing.

  Meanwhile the lines at the adjacent registers move right along. Nanao hears Suzuki laughing.

  Near the exit to the supermarket, Nanao pulls the giveaway ticket out from his wallet. On the back is an illustration of a train in an amateur hand. Arthur, it says. It had been in Tangerine’s pocket back on the Shinkansen. Nanao had taken it at the time, not quite sure why he was doing so, but then he forgot about it completely. Until the other day when he was doing laundry and found it. It reminded him of everything that happened on that terrible trip, and he was about to throw it out to rid himself of any remnants of the whole mess. But something stopped him, he couldn’t say exactly what. He noted that the location of the supermarket was at a station he had never been to before, and he decided to visit it and see if the ticket had won him anything.

  ‘I certainly didn’t expect to run into you here.’

  He turns towards the voice to find Suzuki standing nearby.

  ‘You made the right move at the checkout. Any line I get in goes more slowly.’

  Suzuki’s eyes crinkle with laughter. ‘I started way behind you. I would never have thought I’d finish checking out first. I still can’t believe it.’

  Suzuki had apparently been waiting for Nanao outside the supermarket, but then started wondering what was taking him so long and came back inside. That’s when he saw Nanao waiting in line to enter the giveaway.

  ‘There’s only one line here, so I’m not worried,’ Nanao says with a chuckle.

  ‘You’re going to enter the draw? You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if you won,’ says Suzuki. ‘Your bad luck could all turn round right here.’

  Nanao looks at the prize board. ‘I’ll feel a little let down if all of my bad luck until now was just so that I could win a travel voucher.’

  Suzuki laughs again.

  ‘Although it’s true, I do kind of feel like I’ll win. Making it out of that Shinkansen alive made me think that I was finally having some good luck. And I found this ticket on the train that day, so I’m hoping it’ll be the start of a change of fortunes for me. I guess that’s why I came all the way out here.’

  ‘But your line at the register was still the slowest,’ says Suzuki gently.

  ‘True enough,’ says Nanao with a frown. ‘But I also bumped into you. Isn’t that kind of lucky?’

  ‘Maybe if I was a cute girl.’ There’s a hint of pity in Suzuki’s voice.

  The cashier waves Nanao forward to take his turn. He hands over the ticket with the train drawing. ‘Just one play.’ The cashier is an impressively plump middle-aged woman, nearly bursting out of her uniform. She kindly encourages him, best of luck, young man. Suzuki looks on with interest as Nanao grasps the handle on the lottery cage and starts spinning it. Through the handle he can feel the balls ricocheting around inside.

  The cage spits out one ball, bright yellow.

  Within a split second the hefty staffer rings a bell grandly. Surprised, Nanao looks over at Suzuki.

  Congratulations, says another supermarket staff member as he brings over a cardboard box, open at the top, which he holds out and proclaims, ‘Third prize!’

  ‘Nice work,’ Suzuki says, clapping Nanao on the shoulder, but when Nanao looks in the box his smile freezes. He’s happy to have won, but he’s not sure how he feels about the prize.

  ‘What am I going to do with all this?’

  The box is packed with fruit, two kinds, divided neatly in half. Fist-sized tangerines and bright yellow lemons.

  The cashier is effusive with congratulations, oh what good luck, good for you, she’s all smiles, so Nanao meekly accepts the box. How am I going to carry this home? And what can I possibly do with all these lemons? He keeps his questions to himself.

  He takes a good look at the fruit. For the barest moment he feels a flash of pride emanating from the tangerines and lemons, almost like they’re saying to him: See, told you we’d be back.

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  First published by Harvill Secker in 2021

  First published in Japan with the title Maria Bītoru by Kadokawa in 2010

  Copyright © Kotaro Isaka / CTB Inc.

  English translation rights arranged through CTB Inc.

  English translation copyright © Sam Malissa 2021

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Jacket design © Dan Mogford

  Jacket photograph © Shutterstock

  Author photograph © Osamu Hoshikawa

  ISBN: 978-1-473-59633-7

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