Bullet Train

by Kotaro Isaka

  Kimura grimaced at the thought. ‘And now the Prince wants to use Takeshi the dog as a test subject. Makes sense. I guess the Prince doesn’t have the balls to go ahead and try it on a human first.’

  Cucumber-head shook his head slowly. It wasn’t a gesture of denial, but one of disappointment that Kimura was underestimating the Prince. A gesture of despair at the realisation that this man probably couldn’t help after all.

  ‘No. At first the Prince was gonna try it out on Tomoyasu.’

  ‘What, Tomoyasu messed up?’ It wasn’t hard to imagine. He thought back to his own experiences with gangs and criminal organisations. Usually when the higher-ups got violent with members of their own group it was to make an example of them. Doing that served to tighten up the group through fear. It was a good way to force obedience. The Prince, who won his position over his classmates through fear, probably relied on the same tactics. He used electric shocks to dole out punishments and remind everyone that he was the one with the power.

  ‘Tomoyasu’s kind of slow. You know, he moves slow. The other day we were stealing manga from the bookstore and he fell behind and almost got caught.’ He explained that the clerk had chased Tomoyasu down and grabbed him, but the others ran back and kicked the clerk to the ground, giving their classmate a chance to get away. ‘Even after the guy was down we kept kicking him until he was knocked out. I think he was hurt pretty bad.’

  ‘If you’re that worried about getting caught you shouldn’t bother shoplifting.’

  ‘It’s always something like that with Tomoyasu, but he also talks kind of big.’

  ‘Moves slow and talks big. No wonder the Prince is annoyed with him. What, does he brag about his dad being a hotshot lawyer or something?’ Kimura just hit on the idea of a lawyer randomly. Cucumber-head looked surprised.

  ‘Actually, yeah. His dad is a lawyer.’

  ‘Yeah, well, lawyers aren’t such a big deal. And something tells me laws don’t much matter to the Prince.’

  ‘But Tomoyasu’s dad has some scary friends, or at least that’s what Tomoyasu always says.’

  ‘Ah, now that is annoying. Nobody likes to hear someone brag, but bragging about who you know is the worst. People who do that deserve to be taken down a peg or two.’

  ‘Tomoyasu was picked to be the test subject for the shock thing, but of course he didn’t wanna do it. He cried and begged and kissed the Prince’s shoes right here in the park.’

  ‘And what’d his majesty do?’

  ‘He said he’d spare him but Tomoyasu had to go and get his dog instead. His dog Takeshi. I’ve known Tomoyasu since we were little and he’s had that dog his whole life. He really loves him.’

  Kimura chuckled. Now he could see what the Prince was up to. At this point testing out the defibrillator was secondary. It was more about savouring Tomoyasu’s sacrifice of his beloved dog just to save his own skin. And by doing that he could grind Tomoyasu down, break his spirit. It was clear enough what the Prince was after. But even though he understood it, Kimura was also unsettled by the thought that the Prince would actually do it. ‘His highness really is something else. You know, if he’s that rotten it actually makes him kind of predictable.’

  ‘Sir, I wouldn’t start thinking the Prince is predictable if I were you.’ As he said this the park entrance came into view.

  ‘Uh, I shouldn’t go with you any further. I’ll split off and go home from here. If the Prince thinks I snitched I’ll be in trouble.’

  Kimura couldn’t bring himself to make fun of the kid, call him a chicken. He could tell the kid was desperate. And if his friends found out that he went for help, who knows what would happen to him. At the very least he’d become the new test subject for the defibrillator. ‘Yeah, all right, get outta here. I’ll make it look like I was just walking by.’ He waved the kid away.

  Cucumber-head nodded like a frightened child and started to leave. ‘Hey, wait,’ Kimura called to him. The kid turned, right into Kimura’s fist, slamming full force into his jaw. He staggered, went down, his eyes rolling wildly.

  ‘You’ve done your fair share of bad stuff too, right? Consider this your punishment. Just be thankful that’s all you get,’ Kimura snarled. ‘But why me? How come you came to me for help? You don’t know any other grown-ups?’ Looking for help from a drunk with a kid didn’t seem like the best of choices.

  ‘No one else,’ the kid said, rubbing his jaw and checking for blood. He didn’t look angry. He actually seemed relieved at the thought that he could get off with just a solid punch to the jaw. ‘There’s no one else who could do it. Who could stop the Prince.’

  ‘Try the police.’

  ‘The police …’ The kid hesitates. ‘No, that’ll never work. They need like proof to do anything. The police only go after people who are obviously bad.’

  ‘What does that mean, obviously bad?’ But Kimura knew what it meant. Laws work for people who steal things and beat people up. The authorities can cite legal verse and administer the appropriate penalty. But when things aren’t so clear-cut, when dealing with a vaguer sort of evil, laws don’t work as well. ‘I guess laws don’t apply to princes. Princes make their own laws.’

  ‘Yeah, exactly.’ The kid started to move away again, still rubbing his jaw. ‘But you don’t seem like laws matter to you, sir.’

  ‘You mean cos I’m a drunk?’

  The kid didn’t answer, just melted away into the twilight.

  Kimura made his way into the park. I can walk straight. At least that’s what he thought, but he wasn’t sure if he was actually walking straight or not. He imagined his parents berating him, telling him he had never walked a straight line in his life. He breathed into his palm to check for alcohol, but he wasn’t sure he could smell that either.

  He came to the trees and began picking his way through them in the settling gloom.

  Further in, he could hear something, not quite voices or identifiable noises, just a dark murmur.

  The ground sloped gently downward to a depression in the wood where fallen leaves collected. Shadowy figures stood in a huddle. The black school uniforms made them seem like members of a cult conducting a ritual.

  Kimura hid behind a tree. His shoes on the leaves made a sound like crumpling paper, but was still a little way off from the group and no one noticed his approach.

  He peeked his head out once more and watched the schoolkids. About ten of them were tying up a dog. At first he couldn’t tell what they were tying it to, but after a moment he realised they were tying it to another boy. Probably the dog’s owner, Tomoyasu. The kid was hugging the mutt to himself and the others were wrapping them both in duct tape. Kimura could hear Tomoyasu trying to calm the dog, It’s all right, Takeshi, everything’s all right. The sight of the kid trying to ease his dog’s fear made something tighten in Kimura’s chest.

  He ducked back behind the tree. The other students surrounding Tomoyasu and the dog were all silent. Air charged with breathless anxiety. Kimura thought it was odd that the dog wasn’t barking, and he poked his head out again. He saw that the dog was muzzled with a tightly wrapped length of fabric.

  ‘Hurry up and put ’em on,’ one of the students said. They were sticking on the defibrillator pads.

  ‘They’re on, look.’

  ‘Is this thing really gonna work?’

  ‘Of course it’s gonna work. You calling me a liar? What’s your problem? When we were beating up Tomoyasu before I heard you saying sorry. You don’t even want to be doing this. I’m gonna tell the Prince.’

  ‘I didn’t say sorry. Don’t make shit up.’

  The Prince really has these kids under his thumb. They’re completely powerless. Kimura was impressed. When you lead a group by fear the rank and file lose trust in one another. The stronger the fear, the weaker the trust. The anger and resentment at the despot is turned on people who should be allies, making the spark of rebellion less likely. Everyone just wants to keep themselves safe, their only goal is to avoid being puni
shed, and they start watching one another. When Kimura used to carry a gun and do his illegal work, he often heard about the man named Terahara, and how the members of Terahara’s organisation were all suspicious of one another. They tried to avoid mistakes in the hope that Terahara’s wrath would be directed at someone else. It eventually led to them all turning on each other, looking for someone to serve as a sacrificial offering.

  Sounds exactly like what we’ve got here.

  Kimura scowled. The schoolkids crunching around in the fallen leaves as they prepared their sinister experiment didn’t seem to be having any of the fun Kimura remembered from when he was younger and pushing other kids around. All he sensed from them was terror. They were torturing someone just to protect themselves.

  He looked down at his feet and noticed for the first time that he was wearing sandals.

  Given what he could imagine might happen once he confronted the kids, his preparations seemed to be sorely lacking. Should I lose the sandals? No, if I’m barefoot that makes it harder to get around. Should I go and get my gun? That’d wrap this up quick, but it’ll be a pain in the ass to go back. As he ran through his options, Tomoyasu cried out.

  ‘Wait, guys, stop. You can’t do this. I don’t want Takeshi to die!’ The vegetation in the wood seemed to absorb his pleas, but Kimura heard them clearly enough. Rather than giving the others pause, Tomoyasu’s wailing only goaded them on. Hearing a sacrifice beg must have finally given them a flash of sadistic thrill.

  Kimura stepped out from behind the tree and ambled down the slope towards the group. ‘Hey, it’s you,’ one of the students said, recognising him immediately. Kimura couldn’t recall the kid’s face but he figured it was one he had met before, like Cucumber-head.

  He edged closer, sandals crunching leaves. ‘Hey now, what do you think you’re doing to that dog? Don’t worry, doggie, I’ll save you.’ Kimura glared at the group. The medical device lay on the ground. Two cords ran from it and attached to pads, which were taped to the dog. ‘Poor doggie, look at you. This just isn’t right. Well, don’t worry, a drunk old man is here to rescue you.’

  Taking advantage of the fact that the kids were standing around at a loss, Kimura strode in among them and pulled the pads off the dog. Then he ripped off the tape that was binding the dog to his master. The adhesive was strong and it pulled at the fur, making the dog thrash around, but Kimura somehow managed to get it off.

  ‘This is bad,’ he heard someone say behind him. ‘We gotta stop this guy.’

  ‘There you go, get mad, kid. I’m messing with your mission – if you don’t do something quick his highness the Prince’ll be angry.’ Kimura smiled viciously. ‘Hey, where is the Prince anyway?’

  A calm, clear voice rang out. ‘Wow, sir, you sure seem pleased with yourself.’

  Kimura looked up. A short distance away was the Prince’s dazzling smile. Then a rock came hurtling out of the darkness.

  Click, goes the lock, and the suitcase opens, interrupting Kimura’s recollection. The dials read 0600. Guess his majesty really is lucky. Considering how many possible combinations there were, he’s arrived at the correct one quickly. He hoists the bag up onto the toilet and opens it all the way.

  It’s filled with neatly stacked sheaves of 10,000-yen notes. Kimura isn’t all that impressed. The notes aren’t new, they’re used and wrinkled, and though there’s a fair amount of money in there it isn’t enough to move him especially. He had transported far larger sums in the past.

  He’s about to close the bag when he notices several cards in the webbing. When he pulls them out he sees they’re debit cards, five of them, each from a different bank. They all have pin numbers written on the back in permanent marker.

  Some kind of bonus, like use whatever’s in these accounts. It seemed like a fancy touch on top of a pile of cash. Guess this is how the criminals do it nowadays.

  He has a sudden urge, and he peels off one 10,000-yen note. ‘Doubt anyone’ll miss this.’ Then he tears it to pieces. He has always wanted to try that. He closes the suitcase, moves it off the toilet, and tosses the shreds of money into the bowl.

  A wave of the hand in front of the sensor lets loose a hearty gush of water. He exits the bathroom. The Prince is there waiting. Kimura doesn’t even realise that somewhere in his mind he’s hoping the Prince will praise him for a job well done.

  Fruit

  ‘WELL, MY DEAR TANGERINE, WHAT shall we do now?’ Lemon is sitting in the middle, squeezed between the body by the window and Tangerine in the aisle seat. ‘Hey, switch with me. I don’t like the middle.’

  ‘What the hell was that back there?’ Tangerine looks angry, and he clearly has no intention of switching seats.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Lemon, you knew that Minegishi’s guy was there on the platform.’

  ‘Sure I knew. I’m not stupid. That’s why I waved.’

  ‘You waving would have been fine,’ Tangerine says in a spitting whisper, doing his best to contain his rage. ‘Why did you wave his hand too?’ He points at Little Minegishi, eyes closed by the window.

  Lemon sniggers uncontrollably. ‘You’re talking like that thing on TV where they sneak into people’s bedrooms while they’re still sleeping. You know, whispering like that.’ Saying this reminds Lemon of something he heard once. ‘Hey, speaking of sneaking into bedrooms, you ever heard about the professional who hated being woken up?’

  Tangerine doesn’t seem like he’s in the mood for idle chatter, but he answers curtly, ‘Yeah.’

  ‘When someone woke him up, he’d flip out and shoot the person who woke him. They say he got pissed off just watching someone wake someone else up.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, he even got angry at his partners and clients when they tried to wake him. Soon everyone started contacting him indirectly, without actually going to his place. I’ve heard the damn stories. They’d leave messages for him on the train station blackboard.’

  ‘What, like Ryo Saeba?’ Lemon doesn’t think Tangerine will get the reference to the old manga. Sure enough, Tangerine asks who that is, and Lemon responds, ‘Another badass from back in the day. Speaking of back in the day, do train station blackboards even exist any more?’

  ‘The point, since you always miss the point, is that communication can be the trickiest thing in our line of work. Figuring out how to get information to someone securely and without leaving any evidence. If things get too complicated it usually doesn’t work.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Like what we were talking about before, communicating using digital billboards? Say we wanted to try something like that, either we’d need to plant someone in the operation that programmes the billboards, or we’d need to lean on whoever’s in charge of programming them.’

  ‘Yeah, but when you put it that way, all we have to do is get control of the place that programmes the billboards, and it’d work out.’

  ‘That’s what I mean. Way more trouble than it’s worth.’

  ‘Anyway, that guy who hated being woken up, he was supposed to be pretty awesome. That’s what I heard. They say he was tough as nails. A legend.’

  ‘Legends start because someone makes them up. He probably never even existed. Saying someone’s a legend is basically the same as saying they’re a myth. Probably some guys thought too hard about how to pass messages and one of them ended up dreaming about this killer who didn’t like to be woken up. I’m telling you, the guy never gets woken up because there’s no such guy.’ As he talks Tangerine’s voice gradually gets louder.

  ‘I never wake you up, because I’m such a nice guy.’

  ‘No, it’s because you always sleep later than I do.’

  ‘Listen, I thought it would be a good idea to make this kid move so that he didn’t look like he was dead.’

  ‘When someone looks like they’re sleeping and suddenly they wave their hand, they’re either a giant puppet or a dead body that’s waving because someone else is moving their hand.’

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sp; ‘Oh, come on. I bet you it worked pretty well.’ Lemon starts jiggling his legs nervously. ‘That guy with the slicked-back hair probably called Minegishi and summed up the situation in three words: Everything’s A-okay. A-okay counts as two words.’

  ‘He definitely called him. Mr Minegishi, there was something strange-looking about your son. I think there might be something wrong.’

  ‘Wait, I couldn’t count how many words that was.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter!’

  Lemon looks at Tangerine’s profile and notes the severe expression. Why’s he always so stressed out? ‘Fine, whatever. Give me your take on the situation.’

  Tangerine checks his watch. ‘If I were Minegishi, I’d send my men to the next station. Dangerous men, armed to the teeth. I’d have them wait on the platform and make sure the two on the train who he hired don’t try to make a run for it. And if those two stayed on the train, I’d have my men board. Luckily this Shinkansen has lots of empty seats. Right about now I’d be buying up every single one.’

  ‘I feel bad for the two guys on the train.’

  ‘Yeah, I wonder who they could be.’

  ‘So you think when the train gets to Sendai, a bunch of lowlifes are gonna swarm the train. That could be bad.’ Lemon imagines the train filling up with bearded men wielding guns and knives. He finds the image annoying. ‘You don’t think Minegishi has any girls working for him? Who could attack us in bikinis?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter who they are if they’ve got guns. While you’re busy admiring their tits they’d shoot you dead.’

  The door at the front of the train car slides open. A young man enters, coming from the direction of car four.

  ‘Mr Lemon.’ Tangerine says it quietly, which makes Lemon take notice.

  ‘What is it, my good Tangerine?’

  ‘Would you like to hear a funny story?’

  ‘No thanks. When a serious guy like you says he’s got a funny story, ninety per cent of the time it’s a dud.’