17

In northeastern Shimobuki, beyond the reach of the blizzards, stretched a vast wasteland. This was the Northern Miyagi Badlands, and it was believed to be the remains of a dried-up lake. The traveling merchants, however, simply called it the Fields of Thirst, and they avoided it at all costs. That wasn’t only because the lands were completely desolate and barren, though that was certainly one reason. The more pressing reason that no merchant ever used this land as a shortcut was that it was home to one of the Japanese government’s military bases. It was said that if you went near the place, the guards there would use you for target practice.

On the base, a single jeep rolled up to the door of a large facility and stopped. The door of the jeep opened, and an old man was kicked out, face-planting the dirt.

“Hey, hey, watch it. Really now, have you no respect for your elders?” said Kurokawa, exiting the jeep after him and fiddling with the bandages around his right eye. He approached the old man and offered to help him up only for him to swat away Kurokawa’s hand and spring to his feet unaided, glaring at him with beady silver eyes.

“Don’t touch me. Who knows what kind of heretical spores you’ll use on me?”

“Keh-heh.” Kurokawa chuckled, and he raised a hand to stop the men in black suits from attacking Jabi in his defense. His hand was good as new after Bisco blasted it off, having been replaced with a shiny new prosthetic that glinted silver in the light.

“I’m glad you’re in such high spirits, old man. I do hope you enjoy the little gift I’ve prepared.”

As Jabi walked ahead of Kurokawa, he looked up to see a huge dome-shaped structure that appeared rather out of place in the otherwise brutalist architecture of the military base. That dome seemed to be where Kurokawa was heading.

What is he planning…?

A sharp kick on his back from one of Kurokawa’s bodyguards interrupted Jabi’s thoughts. To cover up their creepy, mushroom-plagued heads, the men in black suits were now all wearing equally creepy animal masks such as frogs and sheep. Jabi ran over to the man and gave him a swift kick in the crotch, and he crumpled in agony while Jabi caught up with Kurokawa as if nothing had happened.

“I wish all hostages were like you. Too many of them simply crack under the pressures of the job. It makes things quite a chore.”

Walking alongside Jabi, Kurokawa seemed to be in a pleasant mood. An intense heat emanated from the dark facility ahead, and they heard the constant whirring, clunking sound of heavy machinery within. It was difficult to speak over the noise.

“Aren’t you curious?” asked Kurokawa. “Don’t you want to know why I haven’t killed you yet?”

“Because today’s Respect for the Elderly Day, I expect.”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! What a funny old man you are.”

Kurokawa signaled to a guard, who produced a can of grape Fanta. He snatched the can, took four swigs, and tossed it to the ground.

“If that were the case, then that would mean I had to kill you tomorrow. Well, you’ll understand soon enough.”

A moving platform began to lift the group to a higher floor. When the view opened up, Jabi could see that the dome was filled with a huge, glowing surface that looked like a pool of lava.

A furnace…? Jabi trembled as he strained his eyes to take in the whole sight. My God…!

“Thanks to your persecution, I’ve been able to acquire a considerable supply of the government’s anti-Rust medication. But the fact of the matter is: There just aren’t that many people suffering from the Rust anymore.” Kurokawa leaned over and whispered in Jabi’s ear as he looked on in horror. “Supply outpaces demand. The natural solution, then…is to simply increase demand; isn’t that right?”

“You can’t mean… That’s impossible…!”

“This is where we cook up the Rust.”

The corners of Kurokawa’s mouth turned up into a smile. Jabi was looking at a crucible of artificial Rust. This entire dome was a breeding ground for humankind’s ruin, the enemy of civilization. When Jabi realized that, even his nerves of steel failed him, and he shuddered in disgust.

“What we might call the ‘natural’ Rust Wind has been fading in strength for some time. And the number of Rust patients keeps on dropping. What would you do, Jabi? What would Toyotomi Hideyoshi say? If the wind doesn’t blow, make it blow.”

“You’re creating Rust? Manufacturin’ a new Rust Wind? Impossible! How?”

“Now that’s what I like to hear, old man.”

Kurokawa appeared to be having the time of his life. He chuckled cruelly and stood up straight.

“The weapon that once destroyed Tokyo contained within itself a device to do just that. A reactor that generated an infinite supply of Rust.”

“…”

“And there he is. Our little sleeping beauty. The one who blew a hole in Tokyo and dragged this country into a sea of Rust.”

Jabi looked back toward the furnace. There, half submerged in the sea of lava was what appeared to be the skeleton of a giant. A thin membrane, reminiscent of skin, was stretched over its bones. And in its chest, its great heart beat regularly, pumping out more and more of the foul substance.

“Tetsujin…!”

“It’s said that there are half a dozen or so in all. But this is the only one that still lives.”

Jabi staggered back in fright, only to find Kurokawa’s hands on his shoulders.

“This must all be too much to take in for a poor old man. Come, we’re here now. Take a seat.”

In the control room at the top of the dome, several masked men stood in a line. Kurokawa sat Jabi down by the window and placed a mug of coffee on the table before him.

“I don’t intend to get Tetsujin working again. I only need its heart. That simmering pot out there will be loaded into shells, and with the Ganesha gun next to the dome, I can fire them anywhere I want. Then, kaboom, and the Rust Wind will blow once more.”

The glass window of the control room gave an excellent view of the reclining giant and the simmering red sea of rust below.

“Where should I target first? The Weeping Valley? Our first order of business should be wiping out the Pipe Snakes that are the source of the Rust-Eater.”

“You fool…! Have you no shame?! This is pure evil…!”

“If such sentiments mattered to me, I never would have betrayed the Mushroom Keepers in the first place.” Kurokawa sat down next to Jabi and brought his face close. The smell of blood seeping through the bandages over his eye was almost too much to bear. “Join me, Jabi,” he said.

“…”

“I have a great deal of Rust-Eater mushrooms, as you know. According to Dr. Panda, the blood of a Mushroom Keeper is needed to awaken their true power… It’s just, for the amount I have, I fear even a hundred people might not be enough.”

Kurokawa lowered his voice and continued slowly, as if enjoying tormenting the old man.

“I want you to bring me the youngest, freshest Mushroom Keepers you can. I’ll pay, of course. Enough for the rest of you to spend the remainder of your days in luxury. Food, housing…with pools, if you want. They’ll listen to you. All you have to do is whip up some speech about how it’s for the greater good… Their precious sacrifices will not be in vain… You know the sort of thing.”

“Silence, you blasphemous toadstool. Do you really think I’d be fool enough to accept?”

“You have no choice, I’m afraid. I can hit anywhere in the country, remember? Perhaps I’ll choose to wipe your little villages off the map first.”

Jabi couldn’t respond. The words caught in his throat. Kurokawa gave a smug grin and continued.

“You know what you have to say, don’t you? Then, I’ll ask again. Join me.”

“Kurokawa…”

“Yes?”

“Come closer…”

Kurokawa excitedly approached, and Jabi head-butted him square in the nose.

“Heh-heh-heh! Silly boy. Fire away, if you’ve got the balls!” Jabi chuckled as Kurokawa dropped to his knees, blood spurting from his nose. “You won’t do it! You know why? ’Cause you’re a coward! A coward who can’t even bear the insults of an old man!”

“You decrepit old fool!”

One of the men in black suits stepped up and punched Jabi as hard as he could. Again and again, until his rabbit mask was stained with Jabi’s blood.

“Whoa there. Calm down. We want him alive for now.” The bodyguard’s show of violence had somewhat abated Kurokawa’s anger. “…Ah, I know,” he said flatly, taking out a knife from his pocket and tossing it on the floor. “Make it so he can’t draw a bow. That’ll be one less accolade to worry about.”

The rabbit-headed man bent down and picked up the knife, then slammed Jabi’s hand down on the floor and held it there.

“Jabi,” said Kurokawa. “It’d be such a shame for the famous Godbow to lose his fingers. All you have to say is yes. I’ll count down from ten… Ten, nine…”

“Just do it, Kurokawa. Cut off an old man’s fingers, and perhaps you’ll finally sleep well tonight.”

“Zero.”

As Kurokawa spoke, the rabbit-headed man lifted the knife above his head and swung it down with all his might, slicing clean through not Jabi’s fingers but his manacles. Then the rabbit-headed man and Jabi both leaped in opposite directions, attacking the other suited bodyguards who lined the walls. As Kurokawa quailed in fright, the rabbit-headed man drew his blade and, in the blink of an eye, slit the throats of half a dozen guards. Meanwhile, Jabi pulverized three of their jaws with a series of kicks from his unbelievably powerful legs.

When at last the rest of Kurokawa’s bodyguards had time to react, they launched themselves at the rabbit-headed man, but one flash of the blade in his hand, and their blood was splattered all over the walls and floor like some kind of perverse modern art piece. Then he came for Kurokawa. One guard stepped in the way, but the rabbit-headed man knocked him aside with a roundhouse kick before bringing his knife down on the Imihama governor.

There was a clang of metal as Kurokawa used his handgun to intercept the blow. Exiled though he was, Kurokawa was still a Mushroom Keeper. He kicked the rabbit-headed man off him and fired several shots, but the masked man dodged every last bullet by leaping between Kurokawa’s guards. Then, like a snake poised to strike at its prey, he coiled his body and sprang upon Kurokawa, plunging his knife into his foot.

“Gaahh!”

Kurokawa swung his arm to fend off the man, grasping the ears of his mask and pulling. Beneath was a head of burning-red hair. The man flashed a fearless grin, and when Kurokawa saw those unforgettable emerald eyes, fear gripped his heart.

“Boo.”

“Akaboshiii!”

Kurokawa aimed right at Bisco’s head, but before he could pull the trigger, Bisco plunged his foot straight into Kurokawa’s stomach, and he flew back, shattering the plate-glass window and falling, amid a flurry of shards, toward the glowing furnace below.

The puppeted men in black panicked, and they all scrambled to the window, leaping down toward the catwalk that stretched out over the surface of the red-hot rust in pursuit of their master. Kurokawa had managed to grab on to the edge of the catwalk and wriggled back to his feet as one of his bodyguards ran over and helped him up. Then he gave a roar of anger and kicked his minion over the edge.

“Huh. Pretty stubborn guy,” said Bisco as he looked down from the control room, smiling as he removed his stuffy suit and tie. “Sorry I hit you, old man. We’ll call it even for all the times you tanned my hide when I was a kid, ’kay?”

“Bisco, what happened to you…?!”

Jabi gasped when he saw Bisco’s body. The Rust now stretched from his right shoulder, up his neck, and over his cheeks. The rest of his skin was still covered by his clothes, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the full horrifying extent of the disease.

“Bisco, my boy… Why? Why did you come to save an old fart like me?”

“Ha! You think I could just sit back and let you die? I ain’t…done with you yet!”

Bisco winced and stopped for a second, and Jabi rushed to his side. Bisco gently brushed his hand aside and smiled.

“I’ll finish off Kurokawa,” he said. “…It’s time we settled things. Meanwhile, you go and find that Ganesha gun he was talkin’ about. We need to make sure he can’t hurt the Rust-Eater…or our home.”

“Don’t be stupid, boy! I can’t leave you here!”

“Who am I, Jabi?”

Bisco’s sparkling emerald eyes looked straight into Jabi’s own.

“I’m Bisco. The man you put all your effort into raising. So trust me. Just like I trust you.”

Jabi knew this all too well. Bisco was proud—and stubborn. But something had changed. Before, he had always been an empty bowl. Now, for the first time, Jabi saw that he was filled with warm water.

“…Bisco. Do you hate me?” Jabi asked, hanging his head, his voice shaking. “I dragged you through the pits of Hell. I brought you here, to the very brink of death. All this time, I never let you know what love is. Do you hate me for that, Bisco…?”

Bisco didn’t make a move. He just stared as Jabi trembled before him. Then he silently knelt down and hugged his father figure as tightly as he could with his Rust-eaten arms. Jabi tensed up, and his eyes went wide with shock. But feeling the warmth of Bisco’s body and the beating of his heart, he relaxed and let out a sigh, exhaling all the breath in his tiny lungs.

Bisco closed his eyes and waited until his master stopped shaking. Then he lifted up his emaciated body and hurled him toward the elevator.

“Go, Jabi!”

“Don’t you die on me, Bisco!”

As he left, Jabi tossed Bisco his Mushroom Keeper’s cloak. Bisco put it on and picked up his bow from where he had hidden his luggage.

There was only one thing left to do.

The Rust-addled Man-Eating Redcap flashed his glimmering canines and leaped through the broken glass window down into the furnace, his heart only emboldened by the prospect of certain death.

The catwalk creaked and groaned as Bisco struck the ground like a meteor. The sight he was met with was a bit of a letdown, as Kurokawa’s minions were strewn about the place in various stages of death. Some stood frozen, turned to statues by the rust that jetted out from the furnace in spurts, while others spasmed in the throes of death, impaled on broken handrails. A few crawled along the ground, dragging their rusted legs behind them. It wasn’t a very good look for the Big Bad’s inner sanctum.

Kurokawa was leaning against a handrail, gasping for breath. Bisco cracked his neck and walked steadily over, his canines gleaming.

“Hey, asshole,” he said. “I’m putting my life on the line here. The least you could do is give me a decent final battle. This place is falling apart.”

“I could say the same thing about you, Akaboshi…!” Kurokawa fought to steady his breathing and shakily pointed his handgun at Bisco. “Write your will, and I’ll sign it for you. Whether by the Rust or my hand, you’ll die here.”

“That’s true.” Bisco smiled, stroking his chin with a rusted finger, and said, “So how come you’re still afraid of me? I can see your knees shaking from here.”

“I’ll tear you limb from limb, Akaboshi!”

As if on cue, there suddenly came an obnoxious buzzing noise from all across the circular wall that surrounded the furnace. A spray of machine-gun fire caused Bisco to leap back, and he saw dozens of military wasps, pointing the guns strapped to their sides at Bisco.

“Where’d you get all these bees from?!”

“I always come prepared…!”

“That’s ’cause you’re a yellow-bellied, chickenshit son of a bitch!”

As Kurokawa turned to unsteadily make his escape, Bisco shot after him but was blocked by a horde of bodyguards, and the wasps aimed their machine guns at him. Whipping out his knife, Bisco stabbed one of the black-suited guards in the chest and used his body as a shield to push ahead. Once he got in range, he hurled the bulky corpse at the wasps, knocking them all out of the sky and into the burning sea beneath them.

The rest of the wasps adopted a battle formation and swooped down on him. Pulling one of Milo’s blue-tipped arrows from his quiver, he fired it at the leader of the swarm. From its corpse sprang a spiderweb that ensnared the rest of the wasps, causing them to tumble helplessly to the ground and into the furnace.

An endless supply of bodyguards streamed from an emergency exit in the back. Bisco nocked one of his weightiest anchor arrows and toppled them all as they attempted to push through the tight space. A particularly massive anchorshroom then burst forth from their bodies, causing the fragile catwalk to collapse and drop the pursuing suits into the Rust-smelting pool.

“Akaboshiii!”

“…!”

While Bisco was occupied with the wasps, Kurokawa had escaped up the stairs and fired down upon him. Bisco tried to move his head out of the line of fire, but the bullet landed in his eye, scattering blood everywhere.

However, that didn’t stop Bisco. While Kurokawa grinned in triumph, Bisco drew his bow, fixing his unfaltering aim on Kurokawa’s head. Even with one eye missing, Bisco had faith in the sureness of his shot.

But at the critical moment…

Bisco’s Rust-eaten finger snapped clean off.

Ngrh! My finger…!

Bisco released his arrow too early. Flying through the air, it fell short of its intended target and landed in Kurokawa’s thigh. He cried out in pain, but then that scream gradually turned into a chuckle, until Kurokawa was howling with laughter.

“Oh, what’s the matter, Akaboshi? Lost your finger? Can’t draw your bow? Well, that’s just the way the world is! No matter how strong you get, you’ll always lose to me by a hair’s breadth! Punks like you will never amount to anything!”

Bisco looked at the crumbling remains of his left hand and closed his remaining eye. When he opened it again, it still shone brilliant emerald, and his indomitable smile returned.

“Kurokawa… Do you really think you’ve won just because I can’t fire my bow…?”

His fierce, blood-soaked grin rooted Kurokawa to the spot in terror. Bisco’s emerald eyes forced his jet-black stare into submission, and yet he couldn’t look away.

“You’d better start running, Kurokawa. Because as long as I still have a tooth—a single fingernail, even—I will always be able to kill you.”

Bisco’s words struck the fear of God into Kurokawa, and he turned to flee, dragging his wounded leg behind him. Bisco followed, and as the last remaining suits threw themselves at him, he struck them each aside with a swing of his fist and sent them tumbling into the molten rust.

He could no longer kick. No longer jump. In the unbearable heat of the furnace, Bisco was on the brink of collapse. Still, he hauled along his broken body, treading the long, long walkway in dogged pursuit of Kurokawa, until at last he arrived at its core. The end of the catwalk, with no escape.

“Stay back! Don’t come any closer, Akaboshi! I’ll shoot you where you stand! Die!”

Kurokawa’s bullets landed in Bisco’s flesh, one after the other. His shoulder burst open, his ear was shot clean off, and blood spilled from his mouth, but he didn’t stop moving forward, his one eye fixed unerringly on Kurokawa.

“See you in Hell, Kurokawa…!”

“Noooooo!”

Bisco swung his right arm with full force into Kurokawa’s face…

…and it shattered to pieces.

Bisco fell to one knee, and that, too, crumbled when it hit the ground. Bisco groaned slightly and tried to stand back up on his other foot, when he took a bullet and began to fall forward. Kurokawa reeled back and only just managed to grab ahold of the guardrail. Sweat dripped down his entire body, and he panted for breath, before letting out a final yell, emptying his magazine in Bisco’s direction.

His body riddled with bullet holes, spurting blood, and yet using all his strength, Bisco remained upright, glaring at Kurokawa. With a wave of his hand, the governor surrounded him with a swarm of machine-gun-laden battle wasps.

“…Ex…explain to me…those eyes, Akaboshi…,” he said, interspersed with feeble gasps. He had no quips left, no scorn or laughter. All he wanted was to know why that emerald eye still glittered like a diamond.

“Even Goku still had his right arm when he beat King Piccolo.

“You don’t even have that anymore.

“You’ve got no fourth-dimensional pocket. Butterko’s not coming to save you.

“You’re just a dirty old mutt who’s about to drown in a pool of his own blood…!

“So why? Why on earth can you still make that face?!”

Bisco silently allowed Kurokawa his spiel, his lips pursed, his eyes never once turning away. He opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was a red waterfall, and he chuckled and gave up trying to speak.

“You were supposed to defeat me, Akaboshi…!” said Kurokawa, reloading his pistol and pointing it squarely at Bisco’s face. “Any last words before you die?”

“…You…”

“…Hmm?”

“…You tell me, fuckface.”

“Then die in this accursed place, Akaboshi! Die!”

Kurokawa pulled the trigger. Just then, there was a piercing flash of light, and the gun was ripped out of his hand along with all his fingers. He let out a gasping cry and peered up toward the emergency exit to see a boy with sky-blue hair.

“Let Bisco go, Kurokawa!”

“Silence, child! One more move, and I’ll shoot—”

Taking advantage of the opening, Bisco leaped at Kurokawa like a wild beast and sank his teeth into his throat. The two of them toppled off the catwalk and plunged into the depths of the furnace.

“Biscooo!” screamed his partner, but Milo’s voice grew distant, and he and Kurokawa slammed into the surprisingly hard, red-hot surface of the rusty mire. There Bisco gnawed at Kurokawa’s throat with all his might.

“Grrbgh! Gaaah! Grgghh! Khaagh!”

The blood spurted from Kurokawa’s throat like a fountain, and the flesh of his back sizzled under the heat of the furnace. His black eyes went wide, and he let forth wretched cries that didn’t sound human. Each time he tried to take a breath, blood poured from his neck and into the sea of rust, where it sizzled and popped and became clouds of steam.

“What a nice death, Kurokawa. It’s like something out of a movie,” said Bisco after spitting out the flesh caught between his teeth. “Where are your usual jokes?” He chuckled. “Not gonna say ‘I’ll be back’?”

Bisco put what little strength he had remaining into his left arm and grabbed on to Kurokawa’s head, pushing it down into the glowing mire.

“Akaboshi…! Akaboshiii…! I’ll kill you…! I’ll kill every last one of you! Then I’ll finally have my sleep!”

“Sleep as long as you like in the ocean of rust you created.”

With one last shove, Bisco managed to sink Kurokawa’s face fully beneath the surface.

“Gbhaahhh!”

He squirmed and writhed in agony, thrashing his arms and legs. Once Bisco’s arm was half submerged, the flailing finally stopped, and his trousers burst into flames, gently smoldering to ash.

Bisco pulled his arm out of the boiling swamp and looked at it, hanging limply. Then for some reason, he gave a satisfied smile. As his legs sank into the rust, and he waited to meet his death in the same place as Kurokawa, the only emotion present on his face was acceptance.

Then.

The bodies of the machine-gun wasps fell into the swamp. Up above, where Bisco had stood, was the boy with blue hair. Milo’s sapphire eyes were filled with tears. They dribbled down his cheeks and turned to steam when they struck the glowing rust. As much as Bisco wanted to console him, there was little he could say, so he just looked up and smiled.

“…You promised me. You said we’d always be together!”

“…”

“Don’t leave me, Bisco… I’ll be all alone…”

“Milo!”

Bisco removed the emerald bow from his back and tossed it up to Milo. Milo caught it in his hand. It was completely free of rust and glimmered pristine in the light.

“So what if my flesh and bones disappear? My soul will never die. I’ll always protect you…even if I have to crawl back up outta Hell to do it… Milo. You’re my partner. Now…and forever.”

“…”

“So smile, Milo… Whenever you’re scared. Whenever it hurts. Smile. Smile like I always did. Because whenever you smile…I’ll be right there with you.”

Then, as the tears streamed down Milo’s face, he clenched his teeth, sucked in a deep breath…and smiled.

Bisco gave him a gentle look. The flames worked their way up his clothes and licked at his skin, gradually charring him black. He was gritting his teeth against the pain, barely able to contain himself.

“Bisco!”

“Milo. Take my life,” he said, his voice beginning to fail him. He bared his chest and pointed to it. “Before the Rust does. Finish me off…and take my essence into yourself.”

“…”

“Can you?”

“Yeah,” replied Milo, opening his reddened eyes and pulling Bisco’s bow tight. He leveled a mushroom arrow at Bisco’s heart.

As always, their eyes burned azure and crimson flames into each other, like two great stars with a magnetic pull from across the void.

Milo’s stance was just as Bisco had taught him. Beautiful, gallant, noble, and tragic. Though he could do nothing to stop the tears, Milo was not afraid.

“I want…”

“…”

“I want to try living like you. No matter how many times I break, no matter how many times I fall, I want to stand back up and smile. Perhaps then, one day…when I’m nothing but a soul, surrounded by the broken fragments of my body…”

“…”

“We’ll meet again, won’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“…”

“You can count on it.”

He blinked only once. As he did, a single pearl slid down his cheek and dropped from his chin.

What can I say?

I never found the right words.

I’m sorry.

I didn’t know how else to tell you how I feel.

I love you.

Bisco.

I’ll always love you, even when you’re not here anymore…

Pchew! Milo’s arrow sliced the air and landed with a thud in Bisco’s heart. Bisco steadied himself from falling and cast his eyes down at the arrow embedded in his chest. Already, the mycelium was beginning to spread through his body. He was a little sad he was too numb to feel the pain of his partner’s arrow. In its place, a strong drowsiness overcame him. As much as he fought to stay awake, his vision was blanking out, and he surrendered his mind to eternal sleep. All he could feel was the fungal roots spreading through his body, embracing him, warming him, and then the orange glow of the Rust consumed his vision.