Bullet Train

by Kotaro Isaka

  ‘And what is that?’ Suzuki widens his eyes inquisitively.

  ‘He wants to know why it’s wrong to kill people. You’re a teacher, what do you have to say to that? Go on.’

  Suzuki looks startled at being put on the spot. Then he turns to the Prince. ‘That’s what you want to know?’ His brows knit with concern, or sadness.

  The Prince stops himself from rolling his eyes. Almost everyone he asks gets that same expression. Or else their cheeks turn red from indignation. ‘I’m just curious,’ he answers.

  Suzuki inhales deeply and lets it out over several seconds, as if to settle himself. He doesn’t look worked up, just forlorn. ‘I’m not quite sure how to answer that.’

  ‘It’s hard to answer, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, it’s more that I’m not sure what it is you really want to know.’ Suzuki’s face is taking on a more and more teacherly cast, which the Prince finds distasteful. ‘First,’ he says, ‘I’ll give you my personal opinion.’

  Is there even such thing as an opinion that isn’t personal?

  ‘If you were going to kill someone, I would want to stop you from doing it. And the other way round, if someone was trying to kill you, I’d want to stop them too.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because when someone is killed, or when someone attacks another person even without killing them, it’s heartbreaking,’ says Suzuki. ‘It’s a sad, hopeless thing. I’d rather it never happened.’

  This Prince has absolutely no interest in hearing anything like this. ‘I understand what you’re trying to say, and I feel the same way,’ he lies. ‘But what I want to know isn’t an ethical reason like that. If there was someone who didn’t feel that way, wouldn’t they be okay with murder? There’s such a thing as war, and the death penalty, but none of the grown-ups think there’s anything wrong with those.’

  ‘True enough.’ Suzuki nods, as if he had been expecting the Prince to say that. ‘Like I said, that was my own personal feeling on the matter. But that’s what matters most. I believe people should never kill other people, under any circumstances. Dying is the saddest thing there is. But that’s not the kind of answer you’re looking for. So,’ he continues, his voice suddenly kind, ‘there’s something I’d like to ask you.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘What would you do if I peed on you right now?’

  The Prince was not expecting anything so juvenile. ‘What?’

  ‘What would you do if I forced you to take off all your clothes?’

  ‘Is that the sort of thing you’re into?’

  ‘No, no. But think about it. It’s wrong to pee in the train car. It’s wrong to force someone to strip. You shouldn’t gossip. You shouldn’t smoke. Don’t get on the Shinkansen without buying a ticket. You need to pay money if you want to drink a carton of juice.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’d like to beat you up right now. Would that be all right?’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘What if I were?’

  ‘I wouldn’t want you to.’

  ‘Why not?’

  The Prince weighs his answer. Should I tell him it’s because I don’t want him to, or that he should feel free to go ahead and beat me up?

  ‘Life is full of rules and prohibitions.’ Suzuki shrugs. ‘Rules about everything. If you were by yourself all the time, there wouldn’t be any problem, but as soon as someone else enters the picture, all sorts of rules spring into existence. We’re surrounded at all times by infinite rules with no clear basis. Sometimes it feels like we’re barely allowed to do anything. So that’s why I think it’s strange that out of all the rules you ask about, you’re most interested in why it’s wrong to kill people. I hear it from other kids, too. You could be asking why it’s wrong to punch people, why you can’t just show up at anyone’s house and sleep there, or why you’re not allowed to build a campfire in the school playground. Or why it’s wrong to insult people. There are plenty of rules that make far less sense than the prohibition on murder. That’s why every time I hear someone your age ask why it’s wrong to kill people, I get the sense that they’re just taking it to the extreme, to make the adults feel uncomfortable. Sorry, that’s just what it seems like.’

  ‘But I really do want to know why.’

  ‘Like I said, life is full of rules, endless rules. Now, there are plenty of rules that even if you break them you can still make up for it. Say I stole your wallet, I could just give it back, or if I spilled something on your clothes, even if they were completely ruined I could still buy you new clothes. It might put a strain on our relationship, but things can more or less go back to the way they were. When someone dies, though, you can never take that back.’

  The Prince snorts, and is about to ask if that’s because a human life is a beautiful thing, but before he can say it Suzuki continues. ‘And I’m not saying this because there’s anything particularly beautiful about human life. But think of it this way. What if you were to burn the only existing copy of a manga? Once it’s gone, you can never get it back. I don’t think human lives and manga have the same value, but as an objective comparison you could say they’re similar for that reason. So when you ask why it’s wrong to kill people, you might as well ask why it’s wrong to burn a super-rare manga.’

  ‘This is one talkative teacher,’ laughs the old man.

  Far from being excited, the more Suzuki talks the calmer he becomes, making the Prince feel like there’s something slightly off about him.

  ‘And now that I’ve said all of that, I’ll give you my conclusion.’ Suzuki sounds like he’s telling his students that this will be on the test, and they should listen up if they want the answer.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘If people were allowed to commit murder, the state couldn’t function.’

  ‘The state?’ The Prince scowls at this, worried that the answer will degenerate into abstraction.

  ‘If people knew that they might be killed by someone tomorrow, economic activity would grind to a halt. To begin with, there’s no economy without stable rights of ownership. I’m sure you can agree with that. If there was no guarantee that the thing you bought would belong to you, then no one would have any use for money. Having money would cease to mean anything. And then we consider a person’s life, which is the most important thing they possess. If we look at it that way, then for economic activity to function properly there would have to be protection for people’s lives, or at least the pretence of protection. Which is why the state puts into place rules and prohibitions, one of which is the prohibition on murder. It’s just one of the many important rules. With that in mind, it makes perfect sense why wars and the death penalty are allowed. Because they serve the needs of the state. The only things that are allowed are the things the state sanctions. Which has nothing to do with ethics.’

  The Shinkansen pulls into Shin-Hanamaki Station.

  It stays there beside the platform for a minute, as if it were catching its breath. Then it starts off again, and the landscape resumes its flow.

  Nanao

  NANAO LISTENS WITH GREAT INTEREST to what Suzuki is saying. There’s something refreshing about seeing the exam-prep instructor holding forth to the schoolkid so dispassionately.

  ‘And some countries, far away maybe, might say that it’s fine to kill someone. I can’t say for sure, but it could be that somewhere in the world there’s a country or a community where murder is allowed. The prohibition on murder all comes down to state agenda. So if you were to go to a country like that, you’d be free to kill people, and people would be free to kill you.’

  It isn’t the first time Nanao’s heard this sort of argument, but Suzuki’s methodical way of laying out his thoughts makes it easy to listen. Nanao has killed, many more times than just once, and listening to a lengthy discourse about the reasoning behind the prohibition on murder isn’t about to make him search his soul or change his ways, but he likes Suzuki’s delivery, both gentle and reso
lute.

  ‘If you’re looking for reasons why murder isn’t allowed that aren’t ethical in nature, then the only possible explanations are legal. So looking for an explanation besides the law is sort of sneaky, like asking why we have to eat vegetables besides the fact that they’re full of nutrients.’ Suzuki exhales for a moment. ‘But here I’d like to say again what I said first, that I just think it’s wrong to kill people. For me, laws and state agenda have nothing to do with it. When someone disappears from this world, when their self vanishes, it’s both terrifying and tragic.’

  ‘When you say that, do you by any chance have someone particular in mind?’ asks the old man.

  ‘Yes, I was wondering the same thing,’ says the woman.

  ‘My wife died, though it was a long time ago now.’ Suzuki looks away. This must be the reason why Nanao could never detect any light in his eyes. ‘Actually, she was murdered.’

  ‘Oh no.’ The woman’s eyes widen.

  Nanao is just as surprised.

  ‘What happened to whoever killed her?’ the old man wants to know, evidently ready to step in and take revenge.

  ‘He’s dead. They’re all dead, and that’s that.’ Suzuki still sounds calm. ‘When I think about why it all happened, why my wife is gone, I still don’t understand it. The whole thing feels like a dream. The light just wouldn’t change, and by the time I started wondering when it would turn green, there I was, on the platform.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ The old man laughs gruffly. ‘Some kind of hallucination?’

  ‘I always thought that Tokyo Station was the end of the line, I never expected a train would keep going through without stopping …’

  Suzuki’s voice gets softer and softer, he keeps saying things that don’t make sense, and there’s a sudden desperate look in his eyes, like he’s been sucked into a nightmare from long ago and can’t find his way out. All at once he shakes his head and seems to come back to himself.

  ‘Whenever I start thinking about my wife it’s like I’ve fallen into a dark, cramped hole. Or I picture her wandering lost in a pitch-black desert. She’s all alone, unable to cry out or hear me calling to her, blind and scared and wandering forever, and there’s nothing I can do to save her. I can’t find her. If I’m not careful I sometimes feel like I might even forget about her. There by herself in the dark, with nothing but a bottomless sadness.’

  ‘You’re losing me a little,’ says the old man. ‘But I can tell you’re a good guy. It’s decided, we’re going to send Wataru to study with you.’ He’s only half joking. ‘Let me have your card.’

  Suzuki reaches into his suit jacket obligingly, then laughs. ‘Oh, I left my things at my seat. All the sweets I bought!’ Once more he seems like a carefree university student. ‘I have to go and get them before we arrive at Morioka.’ He stands. ‘I’m visiting my wife’s parents for the first time since she died. It’s taken me a long time until I was ready to see them.’

  ‘Is that right? Well then, you’d better go and pay your respects!’ The man’s voice is rough, but he also sounds pleased to hear about the reunion.

  Suzuki departs towards the rear of the train. ‘Well, are you satisfied?’ The man looks at the kid. ‘Was his answer good enough for you? If you ask me, whether to kill or not kill is up to everyone to decide for themselves, so I can’t say I’m fully on board with what our teacher friend was saying. But he did have some good points. So what do you think?’

  Something intense flashes in the kid’s eyes. Nanao tries to identify what it might be, if the kid is angry or impressed, but before he can pin it down the kid’s expression returns to normal, and the tension is gone, like air being let out of a balloon.

  ‘No, I didn’t think it was a very helpful answer. I was disappointed.’ The tension may be gone, but his voice is definitely barbed.

  ‘Oh, look, he’s upset. Well, that’s just fine with me. I’m getting tired of his snotty attitude, like he sees through everything.’ The man’s voice rings out loud and clear, and he has his gun back out. ‘Hey, Mr Schoolboy. I’ll tell you something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That question you asked. When I was your age, I used to ask the same thing.’

  The woman next to him laughs through puckered lips, gently whistling.

  ‘You think you’re so clever, but everyone asks that when they’re young and dumb, why is it wrong to kill people? to try and get a rise out of the adults. Kids ask, if we’re all going to die anyway, what’s the point of living? and they think they’re so philosophical, like they’re the only ones who have ever had that thought. It’s like you’re bragging to us about having the measles. We all got over it a long time ago.’

  ‘I agree,’ says the woman. ‘I don’t like children who brag about not crying at movies, because no one cries at movies when they’re young. People don’t start getting weepy over nothing until they’re older. I never cried at the movies when I was young, no one does. If someone wants to brag about not crying, they should do it when they’re old. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start sermonising.’ She makes a show of putting her fingers to her lips, then zipping them shut with a smile.

  Her gesture reminds Nanao of the zip on the backpack, and his eyes drop down to find it still open. The gun’s right there.

  I really should take that. Wait for the right moment – He focuses.

  But just then the Prince bows his head and says in a delicate voice, ‘Grandma, grandpa, I’m sorry.’

  The Prince

  HE FEELS ANGRY, AND THIS makes him even angrier. Suzuki wasn’t talking down to the Prince, but his answer felt somehow like a parable, and it produced an unexpected recoil that was almost biological. Like seeing an insect with a swarm of legs, or a plant of a particularly garish hue.

  And hearing the couple go on and on about how their years of experience make them so much wiser is irritating him to no end.

  He takes a deep breath to cool his head and subdue his anger, and then he does it. ‘I’m sorry. But I think it’s too late for your grandson.’

  It’s finally time for the reveal. The man and the woman are both completely motionless. As soon as I mention your grandson, you’re ready to fall apart. And you thought you were so strong.

  ‘That call that came in earlier. I needed to answer it.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ The man’s face twists and darkens. Not because he’s trying to look fierce, but because he’s trying to fight down his agonised concern, the Prince knows.

  ‘That’s what I was told. Make sure you answer the phone, they said. Otherwise the boy in the hospital dies. I needed to answer before it rang ten times.’

  The man is silent. The only sound is the rattling of the Shinkansen.

  ‘But you wouldn’t let me answer.’ The Prince makes his voice docile and his shoulders tremble ever so slightly. I hope you’re satisfied, is what he would love to say. You acted like you were so smart but you couldn’t even protect your grandson. I beat you and I’m just a schoolkid.

  ‘Is this true?’ The man is quiet. Now he’s starting to think this isn’t just a game. He’s sitting there, helpless, waiting to hear what I’ll say. The Prince feels a surge of physical pleasure, running right up his spine.

  ‘It’s true. If only I had answered …’

  ‘Dear.’ The woman looks shaken for the first time. Doubt has finally sprouted up from under her tough skin.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Let’s try calling.’ She starts to stand.

  ‘Good idea,’ says the Prince. It’s a safe bet that by now the deed is done. ‘Do you want to use my phone? Oh, but I’m not supposed to move,’ he says snarkily, looking right at the man.

  The man’s face hardens. Before he was cautious of the Prince touching the phone, but now his body is screaming the opposite. Give me your phone, it wails. This feels good, thinks the Prince. A good first step. Next, to firm up his dominance in the power dynamic.

  He’s about to take his phone out of his
backpack when he senses Nanao’s eyes on him, on the bag. He knows why immediately.

  The gun. Nanao wants the gun.

  The Prince’s heart does a little leap.

  He got the gun in the backpack from Tangerine, and it’s no ordinary gun. It’s rigged to explode when someone pulls the trigger, injuring them in the process. An exploding booby-trap gun. And Nanao doesn’t know that, which is why he wants to use it.

  I should let him, thinks the Prince with glee.

  He doesn’t know exactly what will happen if the thing explodes. But he can guess that both Nanao and the man sitting right in front of him will be hurt by the blast. Even if it isn’t fatal, it will certainly slow them down.

  The scene will sink into chaos.

  And when it does, the Prince will find a way to slip off. That’s exactly how it’ll go.

  Of course he can’t say for certain that he won’t be harmed, but he thinks the chances are low. He should be fine as long as he jumps for the aisle the moment Nanao aims the gun. More than anything he has faith in his luck to pull him through. Whenever anything like this happens, I always make it out safely.

  A pleasant melody starts to play on the speaker system, followed by an announcement: in five minutes, the train will be arriving at Morioka.

  That’s when it all happens, one thing after another.

  First, at the other end of the car, a child calls out in an excited voice, ‘Grandpa!’ The little boy was only calling out to his own grandfather, but the old couple both start at the sound of the young voice. Because of the way their seats are facing they hear the child’s voice coming from behind them. They seem to be hearing their own grandson calling out to them. Their attention is drawn backwards, and the woman leans out into the aisle to turn round and look.