"Understood. What is your current position?"
Kawada read off the numbers from the gauge he'd been working at before. Then he ended transmission.
This must have been a ploy to buy them time to move elsewhere. He put his hand to the wheel and spun it into a hard left. The ship rocked into the turn.
As he carefully manned the wheel, Kawada said, "That bastard Sakamochi was on to us. I'm glad I told you to come to the ship."
Shuya nodded and droplets of water fell from his bangs.
After Kawada had fired those two shots into the air on that mountainside, he raised his finger to his mouth, signaling the wide-eyed and blinking pair to stay quiet. He then took the map from his pocket and Wrote on the back with his pencil. It was dark out, and the writing was hard to read, but they managed it. Kawada removed their collars, using only a cable and a part that looked like it came from a radio—where he obtained those, Shuya didn't know—along with his knife and a small flat-head screwdriver. Then Kawada pulled a crude ladder of bamboo and rope from his daypack. Shuya had no idea when he'd managed to prepare that.
Kawada wrote again on the back of the map.
[Sneak onto whatever ship they put me on. It's night, so no one will see you. Swim into the harbor from the sea. You'll find an anchor on a chain coming down from the ship. Attach this ladder to the chain and hold on. Once they raise the anchor and start the boat moving, climb up to the deck and hide behind the lifeboats at the back of the ship. When you sense the time is right, attack.]
When the ship took on speed and started kicking up waves, holding on to the flimsy ladder as it dragged them through the water hadn't been easy. Surmounting the last few dozen centimeters between the top rung and the edge of the deck had also posed trouble. With his left arm out of commission, Shuya found himself unable to do what otherwise would have been an easy task. But even with her wounded hand, Noriko climbed ahead of him and practically lifted him above deck. Her strength took him by surprise.
And so they had made it.
Shuya said, "I just wish you had told us your plan earlier than that." Kawada spun the wheel to the right and offered an innocent shrug. "It would have made your reactions less natural. I'm sorry."
He released the wheel. Ahead lay only the black, open sea. For the time being, no ships were coming to pass them by. Kawada began checking the various gauges and displays on the console.
"It's amazing, though," Noriko said, "how you managed to hack into the government's computers."
"Yeah," Shuya agreed. "That was some lie about you being no good with computers."
A grin flashed to Kawada's face in profile. "Sakamochi figured it out anyway—or at least he came close enough."
Seeming satisfied with the readings, Kawada stepped away from the instrument panel. He walked to one of the fallen sailors. As Shuya and Noriko looked on, he began to dig through the soldier's pockets.
"Damn," he said. "These days, even the soldiers have started to quit smoking."
Shuya realized he was looking for cigarettes.
But then, in the front pocket of the other soldier's shirt, Kawada found a crumpled-up pack of Busters. Ignoring the blood splattered on the outside of the packaging, he drew one of the cigarettes, put it to his lips, and lit it. He leaned against the side of the helm, narrowed his eyes, and let out a pleasurable puff of smoke.
Watching him, Noriko said, "If there were many more of us, we wouldn't have been able to escape like this."
Kawada nodded. "Yeah. And it had to be after dark too. But there's no point in dwelling on it. We're alive. Isn't that enough?"
Shuya nodded. "That's right."
Then Kawada said, "Why don't you two go take a shower? It's in front of the ladder. It's small, but there should be hot water. You can steal the soldiers' clothes to wear."
Shuya nodded and set the Ingram down on a small table beside the wall. He put his arm around Noriko and said, "Let's do that, Noriko. You can go first. We don't want your cold to come back."
Noriko nodded, and the two of them started for the ladder.
"Nanahara," Kawada said, stopping him. "Actually, hold off on that for a second." He rubbed out his cigarette on the underside of the helm. "Let me show you how to steer this thing first."
Shuya raised his eyebrows. He'd expected Kawada to take care of steering the ship. But now that he thought about it, he realized Kawada might want a shower too, and Shuya and Noriko would have to steer.
Shuya nodded, and he and Noriko returned to Kawada beside the helm.
Kawada let out a breath and tapped the wheel with his palm. "Right now, the ship is on manual control. It's simpler than trying to fumble with the autopilot settings." He gestured to the lever coming out of the side of the wheel. "Now this is like an accelerator and brake all in one. Push it forward to make the ship go faster, and pull back to slow down. Easy, right? And over here . . . Take a look at this."
Kawada pointed at a round gauge above the wheel. Inside it, a needle pointed forward and to the left. The edge of the circle was lined with numbers and the four familiar letters that marked off each cardinal direction.
"This guy here is a gyrocompass," Kawada explained. "It'll tell you which way you're going. Here, take a look at this sea chart."
He showed them the route leading through the islands from their current position east of Megijima toward the Honshu mainland. Then he told them they should find some inconspicuous beach somewhere in Okayama Prefecture to make land. He followed that with a brief rundown of the radar and depth finder systems.
Kawada put his hand to his chin. "That about does it for the crash course. That's enough to steer this thing. Remember to always steer to the right of an oncoming ship. Another thing, ships take time to stop. Be sure to lower your speed enough before approaching the shore. Got that?"
Shuya raised his eyebrows again. He wasn't sure why Kawada was bothering to tell him how to dock, but he nodded anyway.
Kawada added, "Do you both still have the notes I gave you? I really did write your contact's information on them."
"Yeah," Shuya said, "We have them. But you're coming with us, aren't you? Of course you are."
Kawada didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, put one in his lips, and lit it. It lit up right away, but then Shuya noticed something wrong. Kawada's hand, holding the lighter, was trembling.
Noriko's eyes widened. She must have noticed it too.
"Kawada, you—" Shuya said.
"You guys asked me..." Kawada said, speaking over him. The cigarette was still in his mouth. His trembling hand tossed the lighter down beside the helm. ". . . if I would come with you to the States."
His hand still shaking, he took the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled smoke. "I thought it over. But..."
Kawada put the cigarette back in his mouth, interrupting himself. He took it out again and blew smoke. "It looks like I won't have to give you an answer."
Suddenly, his body slid down. His head slumped forward as he fell to his knees.
"Kawada!" Shuya yelled, running to him.
He wrapped his right arm around Kawada's and held him up. Noriko also ran over and held Kawada from the other side.
The strength drained from Kawada's body, and he was heavy in their arms. Shuya realized the back of Kawada's school uniform was soaking wet. A tiny, tiny hole had torn open in the cloth below his neck. Kiriyama's work—that one shot. Kawada had said it was only a graze.
Why? Why hadn't he tended to it right away? Did he already know it was fatal? Or did he ignore it in order to get us to the ship on time?
In their arms, Kawada slowly dropped and sat on the floor.
"I'm tired," he said. "Please let me sleep."
"No, no, no, no!" Shuya shouted. "You can do that at the nearest hospital! They'll be able to take care of—"
"Don't be ridiculous." Kawada laughed, and like the two soldiers at the edge of the room, he slumped onto his back.
&nbs
p; Shuya got on his knees and shook Kawada's shoulder. "Please! Get up, please."
"Kawada," Noriko cried.
"Noriko!" Shuya barked. Her eyes snapped to him. "Don't cry. Kawada's not going to die."
"Nanahara." Kawada reproved him in a mild voice. "You shouldn't yell at her over nothing. You have to be kind to your girl." Then he added, "And, sorry, but. . . well, I'm g-going to die."
Kawada's face was turning more pale by the moment, the scar above his left eye a dark red caterpillar in sharp contrast.
"Kawada..." Shuya said.
"I still hadn't d-decided," Kawada said. His head was trembling, but he continued to speak. "If I... I was going to join you. But I w-want to—to th-thankyou. B-b-both."
Shuya shook his head, no, no. But unable to speak, he just stared at Kawada.
Kawada lifted his trembling right hand. "G-g-goodbye."
Shuya took his hand.
"You too, N-Noriko."
Holding back the tears in her eyes, she took his hand.
Now Shuya knew Kawada was dying. He had already known, but now he accepted it. He hadn't any other choice. He tried to think of something he should say. He found it.
"Kawada."
Kawada's eyes drifted from Noriko to him.
"I'm going to tear down this country for you! I'll fucking tear it down!"
Kawada smiled. His hand slipped from Noriko's grasp and fell limply to his chest. Noriko took it again, holding it there, squeezing tight.
Kawada closed his eyes. He seemed to faintly smile again. Then he said, "I t-told you, Nana—Nanahara. Y-you don't—don't—don't have to d-d-do that. J-just—just—just live—live on. T-t-together. Keep on—on t-t-trusting and—and—and hon-honoring one—one—one an-another. P-p-p-please."
Kawada took in a deep breath. His eyes remained closed.
"That's what I want."
That was the end. He stopped breathing. The lights of the wheelhouse ceiling cast their unnatural yellow glow over his pale, white face. He seemed at peace.
"Kawada!" Shuya yelled. He still had more to say. "You'll see Keiko! You'll be happy with her! You'll. . ."
Too late. Kawada heard nothing now. Besides, his expression looked so peaceful.
"Damn it," Shuya said, the tremble in his lips working into his voice. "Damn it."
Noriko was crying as she held on to Kawada's hand.
Like her, Shuya laid his hand atop Kawada's thick hand. A thought struck him, and he searched through the pockets of Kawada's school uniform. He found what he was looking for—the birdcall. He pressed it into Kawada's hand and closed his friend's fingers over it. Then he wrapped his own hands around Kawada's fist.
And finally, he cried.
Epilogue
Umeda District, Osaka
Within the crowd of people, each hurrying through with their own purpose, Shuya Nanahara (Boys #15, Ninth Grade Class B, Shiroiwa Junior High, Shiroiwa Town, Kagawa Prefecture) stepped off one of the escalators that flanked the wide staircase into Osaka's Umeda Station and heard the broadcaster say, "We now bring you this report on the murder of a Program Instructor in Kagawa Prefecture." He nudged Noriko Nakagawa (Girls #15), who was beside him, and came to a stop.
On the giant screen, which was next to the escalator and just as tall, appeared a news anchor in his fifties with neatly parted hair.
Shuya and Noriko stood side by side in front of the screen. It was Monday, a little past six in the evening, and students and suited salarymen were among the many congregating there waiting for someone to meet them. Shuya and Noriko were not in their school uniforms. Shuya wore jeans and a denim jacket over a patterned shirt. Noriko, also in jeans, had on a dark green polo shirt under a gray lightweight hoodie. (Their sneakers, however, were the same ones they'd worn in the game—washed clean, of course.) Shuya had flipped up his jacket collar to hide the bandage around his neck. Similarly, Noriko had pulled down her black leather baseball cap to conceal the large bandage across her cheek. Her right leg still had a limp, but it wasn't so conspicuous anymore. Still unable to move his left arm, Shuya used his right hand to adjust the strap of the messenger bag over his left shoulder.
Kawada's note to Shuya gave the name of a doctor, and the one to Noriko contained the address in Kobe. It was a small, backstreet clinic, probably not all that different from where Kawada had grown up. The doctor, who still seemed to be in his twenties, welcomed them warmly and treated their wounds.
"Kawada's father was something of a mentor to my dad when they were in medical school together," the doctor said. "And he did a lot for me too."
The doctor seemed to be well connected. He let them stay with him overnight, and the next day—yesterday, that is—he made the arrangements for them to escape the country.
He'd said, "We'll be using the money Kawada left with me in case of an emergency." From a small fishing village in Wakayama, they would take a fishing boat out to the Pacific Ocean. From there, they'd get on a ship heading to the Democratic Republic of the Korean Peninsula.
"Getting to America from the DRKP won't be a problem," the doctor had said, looking concerned. "But the trick will be transferring to that second ship."
Either way, Shuya and Noriko hadn't any other option.
Today, before they left the doctor's house, Noriko talked to her family over the phone—to be precise, she first called a friend of hers from another class and had the friend relay a message to her family, instructing them to call her at the doctor's house from a pay phone in case her family's phone had been tapped. Shuya gave her some space so that she could talk in private, but he heard her crying voice coming from the hall. Shuya didn't try to contact the House of Mercy and Love. Inside himself, he gave Ms. Anno his thanks and bid her farewell. He did the same with Kazumi Shintani.
The news anchor continued, "Inspection of the site where the Program was held, Kagawa Prefecture's Oki Island, was delayed until this afternoon due to the presence of poison gas sprayed by a Nonaggressive Forces helicopter. Now, two days since the incident occurred, the inspection revealed that two of the students are missing."
The image on the giant screen changed. It was the island. A telephoto-lens shot from the sea, of policemen and soldiers searching the island where Shuya and his classmates had fought for their lives. The broadcast cut to another long-distance shot of the harbor, where the corpses of his classmates were piled. The view only lasted a brief moment, but Shuya recognized two of the bodies. At the edge of the mountain of black uniforms and sailor suits, two faces were turned toward the camera—Yukie Utsumi and Yoshitoki Kuninobu. Because they had both died indoors, their faces remained pristine, untouched by the effects of GREAT Victory #2. Shuya clenched his right fist.
"The missing students are Shuya Nanahara and Noriko Nakagawa, both ninth grade students of Shiroiwa Junior High School in Kagawa Prefecture."
The giant screen changed again, now displaying the same portrait photographs they each had on their student IDs. Shuya looked around, but none of the other people watching the report seemed to have noticed him or Noriko.
Next up was footage of an unpopulated shore where the mountains extended all the way to the sea. The camera zoomed in on a small military patrol ship that had run aground in the shallows just off the beach where more policemen and soldiers were looking on. This seemed to be an older clip from when the ship had first been discovered.
"In the early morning hours of the twenty-fourth, the ship of Instructor Kinpatsu Sakamochi, Program Administrator for Kagawa Prefecture, was found stranded off the coast near the town of Ushimado in Okayama Prefecture. The bodies of Instructor Sakamochi, along with nine Nonaggressive Forces soldiers, including Private First Class Tokihiko Tahara, as well as the Program's winner, Shogo Kawada, were found on board."
The image changed to a portrait picture of Sakamochi and his long hair.
"Police and military officials launched a joint investigation into the cause of their deaths. Authorities now believe that the two missing students
may possess information critical to the investigation and are searching for—"
The newscaster went on, but the image on the screen captured Shuya's attention.
It was a short video clip with a caption below that read two-time winner Shogo Kawada found dead. Under normal circumstances, it would only have been shown on the local news in Kagawa, and with a more generic caption like male student winner. Shuya and Noriko had watched the news in the Kobe doctor's house several times but had only seen photos of Kawada. This was their first time seeing this footage.
Confined by the soldiers at his sides, Kawada stared into the camera.
Then, at the end of the ten-second clip, he grinned and gave a thumbs-up.
A distressed murmur spread through the crowd of people watching the report. They probably assumed he was gloating over his victory.
They were wrong. As Shuya stared vacantly at the face of the reporter now back on the screen, he thought, Was that a message for us? When he stood in front of that government camera, did he already know he was going to die? Or was it simply another display of his ironic humor?
Just like Kawada once said—I'll never know.
Shuya's and Noriko's pictures returned to the screen.
"Any sightings of these two should be—"
"Let's go, Noriko," Shuya whispered. "We should hurry."
He took her hand, and they turned their backs on the screen and started to walk away.
As they held hands, Noriko said, "Kawada . . . said something to me. Before you came back—when you were with Yukie's group."
Shuya tilted his head and looked at her.
She looked up at him. Her eyes, dark in the shade of her cap, brimmed with tears. "He said he was glad to have made such good friends."
Shuya looked ahead and nodded. He just nodded.
They let a group of six or seven students cut across them. When they started walking again, Shuya said, "Noriko, I'll stay with you forever. I promised Kawada I would."
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