Episode 1: Cowling
Episode 1: Cowling
The mouse, I’ve been sure for years, limps home from the site of the burning ferris wheel with a brand-new, airtight plan for killing the cat.
This excerpt is from De Daumier-Smith’s Blue Period, a short story included in Nine Stories (written by J. D. Salinger)
-1-
I salute in front of the white desk that belongs to Suito Kusanagi. Her room, located on the second floor of an office building, faces a runway. With the window shades closed, I cannot see outside the room at the time. On the wall, framed pictures and documents are arranged neatly. I guess they are probably the proofs of her achievements, many of which are decorated with conspicuous silver stars and gold leaves. Come to think of it, this room would suit only those who have a hobby of displaying such evidences of the past, or those who do not hesitate to perform this kind of ritual. As a result, I think that I cannot possibly serve in this type of occupation. Or, those who require her to proudly show off the trophies to them might be secretly spying her from somewhere. I do not have the way of knowing whether it is true or not. I vaguely imagine such things. Beside that, I can barely understand, judging from the smell of cigarettes, that this boss is a smoker. I have decided to conclude that it is a good start at that point since I have made it my habit not to put any trust in a non-smoking boss. I would at least need this level of challenge to contend with every day.
“Yuichi Kannami.” She stands up, and hands me a sheet of paper. She is trying to make her voice carry the cool, calm, and collected tone by intelligently controlling the pronunciation of the words. Contrarily, it sounds attractive with its stoic characteristics like those of a cactus. “Here is the letter of appointment. The first command will come in the morning. Enter the stand-by mode.”
“Roger.”
I give up on observing her, and quickly browses the document. At the bottom of the typed template sentences, I find numbers which has just been written a moment ago. It is the password for me. In a moment, I memorize that.
“How is Tokino doing?” Kusanagi asks, while turning over the page in a notebook on the desk.
“Tokino? Who?” I ask her back with my back straightened.
Kusanagi slowly looks up, and raises her hand up to her glasses even more slowly. Her expression is hardly changed, but the moment of silence obviously indicates her state of being shocked. More correctly, it is a startled reaction with a bit of exasperation.
“I mean Tokino, your roommate,” says Kusanagi.
“Oh, he was sleeping in the bed.” I answer.
“Is he still sleeping even now?”
“Now that I am in this room, there is no way for me to know his current situation. I can at least tell you that, he was sleeping when I woke up and got out of the room.”
“Why did you not wake him up?”
“There is no reason for me to wake him up.”
“Why?” She raises her chin and squints, which gives me the impression that she is finally getting angry. Even so, the change is very subtle. She always has the facial expression that is looking angry to start with.
“Let me correct my statement. At the time, I did not have the reason to wake him up. However, even though I am only speculating ..., I recognize that there is now a reason. So, I will just go back to the room to wake him up, if necessary.”
While standing straight behind the desk, Kusanagi is glaring at me.
“I am ready to accept the command that you are about to issue to me.” I add.
“Didn’t anyone tell you to team up with Tokino?”
“No. However, even if I was told to do so, I would not have waken him up. After all, I did not even know that the name of the person in my room was Tokino, even this morning. Things would have been the same anyway. I mean, he is my ...”
“Okay, okay.” Kusanagi interrupts my explanation. She nods slightly without showing any expression, and takes a glance at her wristwatch. “Come back here in 10 minutes. Okay, done. Leave this room.”
“Got it.” I salute, and get out of the room.
I read my wristwatch to make sure. Shall I get back to my room? (The living quarter is located in the adjacent building.) Or, will I smoke in a lounge room on the first floor? While thinking about what to do next, I am climbing down the stairway.
I hear the door opening behind me, and I see Suito Kusanagi running down the stairs. I make way for her on the landing of the stairway. Kusanagi passes by me without looking at me, pushes the glass door in the lobby, and gets out of the building. She is walking with her back straightened up. It is as if a pair of drawing compasses are walking.
I enter the lounge and light a cigarette. Since I can see the courtyard through the huge windows, I am not taking a seat, and see Kusanagi walking toward the billet. At the moment, I notice that she is wearing a short skirt. I am thinking that it is looking like a nostalgic scenery, for some reason.
In the lounge, several sets of yellowed vinyl sofas and low tables are placed. At the innermost part of the room by a window, a man is spreading open a newspaper. The hair is unusually gray, and he is wearing a pair of small glasses. He moves only his eyes to glance at me, and then looks down at the newspaper again. He puts his hand on the back of his head to touch his disheveled hair, and frowns. I wait for him to say something for a short while, for he appears to be ready to say something. But he does not lift his head while keeping himself silent. I walk to an ashtray and pretend to drop cigarette ash on it. I have just lit the cigarette, and I do not have to do that. I am just making the move to create a chance to start the conversation with him.
“I am Kannami, and I have just been assigned to this base since yesterday.” I say so, because I am thinking that greeting him would not cause me to suffer from any loss. Every time I think about this kind of thing, I feel that I have managed to live for an unexpectedly long time.
“Hello.” The man raises his head. “Ms. Kusanagi seems to have been getting angry, though.”
“Umm ... Yeah ...” I look outside the windows. But, she is nowhere to be seen anymore. Due to the reflection of the glasses, I cannot see the interior of the billet. “I think she was angry because Mr. Tokino did not wake up earlier.”
“Oh ...” The man is showing a disappointed look. “That is all, eh?”
“Even if I come here, um ..., no one would give me explanations, right?”
“What explanations?” He asks me while looking at the newspaper that is spread open on the table.
“I mean, for example, about what kind of people are here ... about what missions they are engaged in ... Various things like that ...”
“Wanna know such things?”
“Are you a pilot?” I ask. I am treating this as a slight joke, because it is obvious, judging from his clothes.
“I’m Yudagawa.” He raises his head and says so. He shows a momentary, fake smile like a camera flash. “It has been three years since I came here. You, umm ..., say the name again?”
“Kannami.”
“Okay, Kannami.” Yudagawa nods. He inserts his hand into a pocket and takes out a cigarette and a lighter. “Ah, got it. I have heard of you.”
“How many pilots work here?” I ask him another question because I do not want to talk about whatever he has heard about me.
“As of late, the number of pilots that are assigned here on a regular basis is four.”
“Including me?”
“Right ...”
“Recently?”
“Yeah, recently.”
“Only four?”
“Yeah, only four.” Holding the lit cigarette in his hand, Yudagawa exhales a thin streak of smoke. “Including the beauteous Ms. Kusanagi, the number of those who can fly is five.”
“But this is a relatively huge base, right?” I look outside the windows, but runways cannot be seen from the lounge because they are located on the opposite side of the building. In front of me is the two-story billet. On the left are a part of a hangar and a factory. On the right are a gate, and a warehouse. Beyond a steel fence, there is a plain meadow across the street, along with a bank of a river with an iron bridge of a railway line and a black forest in the distance. Such things remain stationary outside the windows. Nothing moves. There seems to be no wind today. It may rain in the afternoon.
With a cigarette in his mouth, Yudagawa resumes reading the newspaper in silence. He is probably implying the end of exchanging necessary information.
There is nothing else to do but to get closer to the windows and look outside. After a while, Kusanagi gets out of the billet. While throwing out her chest and walking tall, she comes straight back through the courtyard. I read my wristwatch. Not even five minutes have passed yet. As my cigarette gets shorter, I put it away by stubbing it out against the edge of the ashtray. I feel like smoking another cigarette. But, I recognize that this is the proof of my feeling tense. I take a deep breath only with the air (with no smoke). I am saving another cigarette this time around.
Tokino appears in the courtyard, and is walking toward the office building. He has just changed his clothes. His shirt is not buttoned. I walk to the lobby right when he has just entered this office building.
“Good morning.” I greet to Tokino.
“Morning.” He replies with his face frowning painfully.
“I guess that you are waken up by Ms. Kusanagi, correct?”
“Oh, was that her?” Tokino nods, while yawning. “I didn’t have enough time to see who it was. By the way ..., who are you?”
“I’m Kannami, your roommate.”
“Oh ...,” Tokino squints a little and takes a glance at my entire body. “Then, use the bottom of the bunk bed.”
“I have used it already.” I reply.
“Oh ... I didn’t notice that.”
Last night, Tokino should have seen me. He came back in the middle of the night. I heard the sound of a motorcycle engine, and then the footsteps approaching me. I got out of the bed to greet the comrade sharing the same room. However, he looked exhausted to the level that he could barely give back a silent nod to my words. Then, he took away the clothes and climbed to the top of the bunk bed quickly. The impression that I had of him was that he was rather taciturn, but he might have been just drunk. In short, he does not seem to remember what happened last night. He did not look that much heavily drunk at all.
“You look like you are feeling sick.” I speak to him.
“Well, I am not feeling too good.” He replies. He gives off a slight smile, and after that he shakes his head. “Let’s go.”
He starts walking, and I follow him. In the middle of the stairs, Tokino looks back at me just once.
“I’m Tokino, by the way.” He extends his hand toward me, when we reach the landing. His hand is far bigger than mine.
-2-
The cockpit of Sanka Mark B is not spacious. It best suits my rather small frame. Compared to Mark A, an earlier version, in respect of its shape, its cowling is relatively low and the rear end of its canopy is swelled. It drastically improves its visibility both on the front and the rear sides. I can definitely say that this influence is enormous. Beside that, two automatic cannons, which are mounted on left and right wings on both sides of Mark A, are now mounted at the bottom of the fuselage for Mark B. I have heard that it is a desperate measure in order to make the wings thinner. Due to the unexpected improvement of the moment of inertia, rolling movement, which has already been good enough to be called a ‘windmill’, has shown further refinement. This feature of the improvement is welcomed by the pilots most. Generally speaking, those who do not fly planes value catalogue data (statistics) of weapons, whereas those who fly planes tend to give top priority to how light the handling of the control stick is. The former seriously worry that an airplane crashes due to the lack of the pilot’s skill, and the latter always fear that a pilot dies due to the lack of the performance of the airplane. Since the first airplane in the history took off, this gap of mentality has been widening and not been narrowing.
I am flying behind Tokino’s aircraft, while maintaining a slightly higher altitude with respect to him. Clouds are preventing me from seeing the ground.
Below me is pure white, above me is blue, and at the zenith is the sun.
The vibration of the engine I am feeling from behind is comfortable to me. It is my favorite frequency. It is as if I am given a massage. I have yet to try the engine breathing I heard about from Sasakura, the mechanic, this morning. It is 13:12 now.
Each time I fly, I listen to music. Honestly, I want to turn up the volume to the extent that I cannot hear any other sounds. But, I should not do that while on duty. Of course, I would get in trouble if I fail to hear the radio communication transmissions. Besides, other than that, I have to be able to catch any sounds because they are very important information for me. Abnormal sound from the engine, fuselage, and airframe. The sound from the linkage of the steering mechanisms. Buzzing sound of the propellers. Signals from the instrument panel. So, the music that I listen to should be set at a low volume. The tranquil melody works as a trigger. All I have to do is to pay attention to the sound coming over the music.
If anything, I prefer loud music. But, it cannot be helped. I sometimes think I occasionally get the opportunity to be able to listen to the loud music as I like on my way back from a solo scouting mission. So, I put such type of music media in my flight bag. I have yet to get the opportunity to listen to it so far. I have already made up my mind to listen to it when I am cornered to the level that I can do nothing about anything. In that case, I hope I can die before the playback of the music media ends.
The cloud below me is globular like a bubble. The cloud above me is gray and flat. I fly straight between them.
Since the takeoff, I have heard Tokino’s voice through my earphones just once. The communication is coming in, just when the landing gears are retracted. I am in the middle of the slow climb to the clouds.
“Do not tell me ... This is not your first experience, is it?” He asks so abruptly.
“What do you mean ... by ‘this’? This mission? Or, this aircraft?”
“Aircraft.”
“This is not the first time for me to aviate Mark B.” I reply.
“Then, you know the engine breathing, don’t you?” Tokino asks.
“We should not talk through the radio communication.”
“Okay.”
After that, there is no radio communication anymore for the time being.
To engage in the mission according to the plan, we fly toward west-southwest. The temperature at the ground level is close to 30 degrees Celsius, so I want to soar in the open sky as soon as I can. It is my first flight in a week. The brightness of the sun in the sky is as usual. My face reflected on the polycarbonate surface of the instrument panel looks relieved for some reason. I may have to take my time occasionally to recognize my own presence.
It is getting very cold, before I know it. I feel the chill around my knees. But, my physical health condition is in a very good shape.
It is the first time in two months to aviate this type of aircraft.
I soon notice that this ranks the highest among the Mark Bs that I have ever piloted. I guess the previous pilot of this particular aircraft was such a tidy person. The interior of this aircraft is as neat and clean as the one displayed in a museum. I mean, no trace of stickers used for attaching photographs, no scratches of anyone’s initials, no marks for counting something, or no scribbling of modified versions of phrases by poets. Can it be that the mechanic crew named Sasakura has cleaned it up? No, he would never do that. Mechanics usually do not get their hands on a cockpit. Like a human’s stomach, this space is outside the plane from their point of view.
Come to think of it, I did not smell any human odor when I entered the cockpit. No trace of artificial perfume, either. I like it that way because I dislike that sort of thing. Only for that reason, I have come to like this aircraft. In many cases, I end up getting a headache in anyone else’s aircraft because of the pilot’s odor. I just cannot stand anyone else’s aircraft even more than somebody else’s car, clothes, rooms, or beds. Why? It is because I cannot just switch to a different aircraft or get out of the cockpit in the middle of the flight.
Tokino’s airplane slightly shakes its wings twice.
He seems to be thinking of descending. I start to wonder if we have already been flying for so long, and I read the clock.
I am sinking into the cloud. I close the throttle to keep some distance from Tokino’s aircraft. My aircraft vibrates a little. A slight feeling of floating. I love this particular sensation beyond description that I experience when descending. I feel good. It is as if various relationships are getting vague, or as if the things surrounding me are getting away from me. I want to keep falling endlessly, toward the center of the Earth ... I always associate such thing with one another. All of my coworkers often say that they love the acceleration on their backs when ascending. I think differently, the opposite. I can feel that I am released from something when I am descending more strongly than when I am ascending. Probably, I feel that I am being released from the inconveniences of living in this world. For any living creatures, nothing can be bigger restraints than that.
“From my point of view, you seem to want to die. Is that right?”
I wonder who has said so.
Ah ... It’s Amano. He was such a clown. When did his aircraft crash? ... Was it in summer two years ago, if I remember correctly? While crashing, he said to everyone, something like this:
“Tell the auntie in the cafeteria that Amano ran away.”
As I recall that, it is making me snigger. He was not the type of guy who could say such an elegant joke. Probably, it was the best one he had been thinking about and preparing for quite a long time.
I have just passed through the cloud. A black forest appears faintly. Amano probably saw such a black forest, I think. “Even though the Earth is approaching straight, it is strange that there is no hole ...” He might have thought so.
Immediately after the cloud has disappeared, I can search for Tokino’s aircraft. He is at the higher altitude than I am. There is quite a distance between us. He is shaking the wings again. He seems to be concerned about me. I chuckle alone again. Contrary to the previous impression of him, he is such type of guy unexpectedly. That’s really none of his business, I think.
I fly above the forest for a while. Then, I see a large river. I lower the altitude, and then direct the vector toward the upstream part of the river along the riverfront. Both sides of the river are adjacent to flat plain lands. In the distance, I see farmlands or meadows. White houses are sparsely located here and there. However, visibility is hazy due to light rain. I cannot see anything in the distance.
There should be a dam, then a lake. Our scouting target is located near the vicinity. Almost one hour has passed after we took off from the base.
Eighty percent of my attention is concentrated on the upper sky above us. Paying attention to the lower sky below us is Tokino’s duty.
The canopy is getting wet. I look to the side, and find a vapor trail forming around the edge of the wing and streaming backward.
I lower the altitude even more. Probably because of the aftermath of the heavy rain, the river appears to be swollen. The soil-colored surface of the water is getting closer to me. I descend to the elevation that is a little higher than both of the riverbanks. It is a dangerous altitude if a bridge is within the vicinity. The throttle is hardly closed. If I do not hold it down, the aircraft tends to float due to the ground effect. I think that the number of raindrops hitting the canopy has increased. I swallow the saliva, and then the volume of sound surrounding me increases suddenly.
Tokino’s aircraft is flying in front of me on the right. Its cockpit is hidden behind the misty canopy, and the figure of the pilot is invisible.
The mountain is approaching. The width of the river is gradually narrowing.
The engine sound is stable. It sounds lyrical. It is the proof that we have a skilled mechanic. I know what is really precious. There is nothing more valuable than a skilled mechanic. You have nothing to lose by making him your lover.
The engine sound of my aircraft is overlapping with the sound from Tokino’s aircraft. Smooth sound. The sound is as comfortable to my ears as the touch of a smooth blanket.
I look back toward the higher altitude, the sky to the upper rear, several times. Fortunately, the sky is not too blindingly bright. The ground below us appears to be getting elevated. It is like the growth of the black forest is raising the ground level. It is as if I were traveling backward in the history toward the ancient times. There is no house or no road around the vicinity.
The river gently curves to the right.
Tokino leans the main wing sideways. I also lower the right wing. Every time I engage in a maneuver like this, I feel as if I were playing with a bobsled. In fact, I have never even skied. I have flown above the snow, but I have never touched it with my hands. My comrades say, in chorus, “If I were to crash, I would much rather do so on the snow.” I am not sure why they would say so, because I do not know what snow is.
Over the edge of the lowered wing, I see the mud-colored surface of the water. The sand of a sandbank is whiter than the river.
As planned, the dam appears in front of us.
Since I have expected it to be white, I am surprised by the fact that it is far more blackish than anticipated. Several streaks of black stripes are lined up on the surface vertically. I put the boost on the throttle a bit. I slightly put the control stick to the left to make the wings horizontally level.
I wait for Tokino’s ascent.
It is still a horizontal flight. Moreover, its speed is not increasing.
There is only about 300 meters of distance between him and the dam.
It is about time that he would raise the pitch of the aircraft.
However, Tokino has yet to start ascending. The dam is closing on and getting closer. I study the landscapes on both sides of the dam. It is too narrow for us to turn to the left or to the right.
Still, he is flying straight.
Is he sleeping? I think so in a moment.
He was looking like he was suffering from a hangover this morning ...
Oh, no.
This is the limit.
When I try to pull the control stick, Tokino lowers the right wing a little. He is revving up the engine. The reaction torque is causing the aircraft to tilt.
I too push up the throttle lever at once.
Tokino raises the nose of his aircraft. The aircraft is still leaning to the right. Is he taking the reaction torque into account? He is intending to ascend diagonally.
Needless to say, I remember the issue pertaining to the engine breathing.
I am adding my strength to my left hand on the throttle lever, but I have just decided to have faith in it and let go of the throttle lever.
What is ‘it’ that I am having faith in?
What am I believing in? I think so, with a little delay.
The engine starts racing in a few seconds. In the middle, the engine breathes once. The interval is so short that no human can control it for sure. Splendid, I feel.
The engine roars frantically.
The aircraft vibrates.
The vapor trail streams out from the nose.
I feel the acceleration on my back, see the cloudy sky in front of me, and wonder why I wish for nothing in a situation like this.
The angle is so steep that I feel as if I were climbing the concrete dam.
Although the velocity is decreasing, I am still barely ascending. Indeed, this is heavy, for sure. If the engine had a little more power, then the awkward time like this would have been reduced.
I fly over the dam and keep ascending. Of course, I adjust the attitude to a far more gentle angle.
I shake the aircraft, and look at the surface of the lake.
The surface in the distance is green. It seems to lead to the farthest part.
A road is to the right. I find a railway beyond the road.
I see a factory, located even farther.
While viewing the landscape, I ascend higher.
Before the velocity gets insufficient, I dare to control the aileron boldly and perform the inverted flight. With a half-roll, I regain the level flight.
I take a deep breath.
Tokino’s aircraft is still flying inverted at the higher altitude.
Again, I look down at the target.
I cannot find anything that is moving. No trace of humans. No cars.
As of now, we have not been shot from below. Attacks from underneath can indeed get nasty.
The absence of attacks is the proof that there is nothing in the target.
It means that we have come here to make sure so.
I always feel this way. I realize that I end up feeling disappointed for some reason, even though I should feel relieved when I encounter nothing in a scouting task like this. The aggressive side of me seems to live around my right hand that is gripping the control stick. He rails at me, I wanted to blast this baby. I am feeling the urge to take my glove off to see his face.
After making turns and drawing large circles, we are heading for the factory. Tokino is now flying normally. Executing an inverted flight for more than 10 seconds with this particular type of aircraft is dangerous. Its fuel system just cannot catch up on the maneuver. The fact that its mechanism is more fragile than humans is a situation that the one who is aviating the plane should feel comfortable about.
As far as my observation can tell, the factory does not seem to be in operation. I heard that the plant is designed for processing minerals. I find long belt conveyors, but cannot tell whether they actually work.
“Shall we go back?” I hear Tokino’s voice through the radio.
“Okay. Let’s do so.” I reply.
After seeing the cockpit of Tokino’s aircraft beside me, I look to the upper-rear direction toward the higher sky.
At that moment, I find three black dots floating in the gray part of the cloud.
-3-
That is very close. Their velocities are fast enough to catch up on us. We can do nothing but dodge the first attack.
Tokino’s aircraft turns to the right, so I am almost diving to the left. While skimming over the surface of the lake at full-throttle, I am looking for a nearby coordinate to escape to. If I choose to ascend without much thoughts, I will lose the velocity and be shot down.
I look back over and over again.
What are the types of the enemy aircrafts?
They have yet to shoot. Are they attempting to dive from the higher altitude?
The rain is getting a bit more torrential. We are getting lucky.
Although the aircraft is trembling slightly due to the vibration of the engine, I have not found any malfunctioning yet. I check the indicators for oil pressure and fuel, one by one. I get prepared to discard the drop tank.
I look back again. I do not see them nearby.
I take a deep breath slowly.
I turn off the music.
“Okay, let’s do it?” I utter.
I relax my shoulders.
Get my waist slightly up in the air.
I straighten up in the seat.
Slowly.
I move my knees.
In the meantime, I look around.
Ahead of me, a fish is jumping out of the river. No, that is not what is really happening. The enemies are shooting the machine guns. The sound follows with a delay. As expected, they are coming from above.
I dump the drop tank. I pull the control stick, while timing it with the reaction caused by the detachment of the tank.
I am ascending while rolling. I am not steering the rudder. I let the torque roll the aircraft. By doing this, I have no blind spot. I can locate their positions.
Unfortunately, there are two aircrafts.
They start shooting.
They are lunging at me.
I turn the nose of my aircraft to the closer of the enemy aircrafts to decrease the projected area.
However, it is already too close for me to shoot.
One enemy aircraft and I pass by each other.
Then, another one gets closer to me after that.
They look like they are good friends to each other.
As it has turned out, I am receiving no substantial attack.
While keeping my aircraft level, I start the spinning maneuver.
One of the enemy crafts descends a little too much, and tries to make a turn. Such a mistake involving the braking maneuver like that might turn out to be fatal. The other one ascends swiftly and is already getting ready for the second wave. This pilot seems to be more skilled. I am confirming that both of the enemy aircrafts are twin-engine Rainbows. They are superior to Sankas in respect of the velocities at low altitudes. Our advantage lies in the turning performances. However, the relationship between the velocities and turning performances is like that between banana flesh and banana peel. I mean, once a banana fruit is peeled, the only thing that matters is the interior.
Now, here it comes.
The other plane is taking too much time beneath me. Its life would be saved, if it ran away now.
Rolling to the left.
The wind sounds like a flute uncharacteristically. A beautiful sound.
It starts shooting at me.
I close the throttle and pull the elevator input with full strength. I grit my teeth to withstand the g force. After counting to three, I race the engine. The aircraft stalls once while pitching upward, it revolves like an acrobatic backward flip. Only a few pilots can pull this off. Also, only few aircrafts can withstand this acrobatic maneuver.
My combatively aggressive right hand unlocks the machine guns.
“May I shoot?” It asks me.
I plant my right foot firmly and steer the rudder. My aircraft is falling while sliding diagonally. Then, as I have calculated, the enemy craft from above passes by me. The opponent is lowering the flaps. Even though the pilot seems to be thinking that it is putting on the brake, I just send him an advisory message telepathically, “You are going a bit too fast.” I look at the left side, which is the direction that is opposite from the enemy plane that I am currently dealing with, and I notice that the other enemy plane is below me. I hold my breath.
“You may shoot. Go ahead.”
My right hand shoots the machine gun.
Control the ailerons to roll to the left. Flaps are deflected down. Elevators are steered to go up (deflected downward).
I break away to the left.
In the meantime, I ascend rapidly, to gain the altitude.
It has got to be the bull’s eye, but the target is still flying. There seems to be no damage inflicted. I just hope that the pilot is now scared a little bit. It is soon getting out of my sight.
The other slower enemy plane is ascending while turning. Is the pilot scared? I surely do not want to think so, though.
I am also ascending more.
Shall I escape into the cloud? No, it is a bit hard. I won’t be able to reach the cloud. Besides, I do not need such a safety net. I have decided to pretend to escape and turn over.
I check the instrument panel. The engine is working well.
I look back and confirm the enemy gradually closing in on my tail. I intentionally control the amplitude of my oscillation in order to have him follow me. I do not see the other enemy. That is the main concern for me. It has not ascended, maybe because it is suffering from some kind of damage.
In four seconds, the closer enemy will shoot me.
One, two, three.
I roll over to the right and then am inverted.
At the same time, I press the rudder pedal all the way down.
Snap roll.
In a moment, the enemy appears in front of me.
My right hand shoots the gun for the brief moment.
My left hand turns down the throttle.
I use both of my feet to fully reverse the rudder direction.
I follow through with the torque, and the aircraft stalls.
Finally, the other enemy has arrived.
Yes. That’s the way you do it. You are today’s main attraction, after all.
I roll over to the right. I point the nose of my aircraft downward.
I look back.
Where is the slower enemy?
I am still descending while rolling.
In the meantime, I am viewing several directions. Although I am looking into the distance, I cannot find Tokino’s aircraft. I know how far the dam is from me. I see one aircraft below me. What is it doing?
The aircraft creaks.
The black smoke passes by me only for a brief moment.
Whose smoke? Not mine.
I lower the left wing, and I enter the normal turning.
At last, I can breathe.
I am confirming both of the two enemy planes. Which one of them is issuing the smoke?
Throttle up.
Pull the control stick.
“Well, then ...”
I inhale the air deeply.
Then, I stop.
Roll over to the left.
I position myself in front of the ascending enemy. I then roll over to the right.
He starts shooting at me.
Down.
Roll.
I draw a narrow loop by deploying full flaps.
The movement of the enemy plane clearly lacks the sharpness. I suspect that parts of it have received damages. It happened when I first shot him.
This battle has already been decided.
I see the bottom of the aircraft from below.
Fire.
I escape from the vicinity with the right turn.
I confirm that the enemy is spitting fire.
I look for the other, slower enemy.
I look upward, just in case. Then, I roll over to assume the inverted flight and search below toward the ground.
While railing black smoke, the slower one is skimming over the surface of the lake. The shooting that I executed earlier seems to have hit this one also. In short, I have already won the respective battles in the initial phases. Just in case, I look around. There is no other enemy.
I pull the control stick to deflect the elevators, and then dive.
In the middle of the maneuver, I see the aircraft spitting fire crashing into the lake. It seems that the pilot has failed to escape from the cockpit.
How pitiful. I can come up with the expression. But probably, I am not really thinking that way. It is not my real intention, as if it were the message written with chocolate sauce drizzled on cake.
Whether it is piloted by a human or not, whatever is being downed is an aircraft. I cannot afford to invest my time on worrying about the aircraft’s visceral organs.
I approach from behind the other aircraft that is spewing the black smoke. Since its velocity is decreasing, it is the prime target. I catch up with it in a moment.
Just when my right hand is ready to shoot, the enemy plane lowers the right wing and the tip touches the surface of the lake. After the splashes, the aircraft spins around like a boomerang.
I circle around the nearby vicinity and confirm the crash. In the end, it stops with the nose of the fuselage tilted downward and dipped in water. I wonder for how long it will stay afloat. The pilot in the cockpit does not seem to be moving. Half of its canopy has already sunken. Maybe, he is waiting for me to leave.
I am leaving the area, and head for the dam. I pitch the nose of the aircraft upward, and gradually gain the altitude.
“They do not know who I am.” I utter to myself. Probably, my right hand is speaking.
Sweat is running down my forehead.
I take off the goggles once and rub my eyes with my left hand.
I check the fuel, the oil pressure, and the oil temperature. Then, I slightly shake various controllers (such as sticks and levers), just in case. There is no malfunctioning recognized on the aircraft. The engine roaring behind me is in good condition, as usual. The improvement over the engine breathing is splendid. I have to tell the mechanic crew about that, I think so. I am glad that I am blessed with a good aircraft. I am feeling comfortable about everything.
I fly over the factory, our scouting target, to the downstream side of the dam.
Neither Tokino’s aircraft nor enemy is within sight. The visibility is very low, no thanks to the rain.
When Tokino’s aircraft ascended rapidly in this vicinity in the initial phase, was he testing me? Or, was he giving me a chance to check the characteristics of the engine breathing? In the first place, is this modification implemented on Tokino’s aircraft as well?
Anyway, it is good for me that I learned of the timing at that time, because the enemies appeared right after that. It was important for me to be able to move around, while not minding the throttle. It is as if the aircraft had lost 10 kilograms off its body weight.
All I have to do is to go back. No enemy would come from the front.
I have decided to fly above the clouds.
“Hey, are you okay?” I hear Tokino’s voice through the earphones.
“I’m here.” I reply.
“Where?”
“I am leaving the target, and flying southward. I am approaching Point 2 shortly after.”
“Got it. I will be waiting at the higher altitude.”
It seems that Tokino is safe and sound. He is ahead of me.
For a while, I am heading straight south above the clouds. I locate Tokino’s aircraft in a couple of minutes.
“Did you get hit?” Tokino asks.
“No, not at all.” I reply.
“How many did you bring down?”
“Two.”
Tokino is not saying anything about what he dealt with. I think he had to face the tougher situation. Probably, the most skilled among the three enemies attacked him alone.
I like the one who does not speak of too many unnecessary things. He might be a good guy. That is how I evaluate my comrade.
When I land on the base with more than 30 percent of fuel left in the tank, it is 15:44.
-4-
Kusanagi is saying nothing in particular. She is looking like a mailperson throwing letters into mailboxes. She is showing an indifferent look as if in saying it is just another daily routine whether things are working out well or not. Probably, she is right. This airbase is closer to the front line than where I was stationed previously. It is far better than being sarcastically praised by having my shoulder being tapped with cheesy grins.
Sitting side by side in front of Kusanagi’s desk, Tokino and I are reporting the situation.
“Umm, are we planning to bomb the dam?” Tokino asks. Asking such a question is basically prohibited.
“No.” Kusanagi shakes her head. Obviously, she is saying no more.
For some reason, she says nothing to me all the way to the end of the reporting session. She could have said something diplomatically, such as, “How do you like your new aircraft?”, or “Is there anything you need?” But, nothing at all. Although I am a little disappointed, I feel better this way, come to think about it. I am now feeling that I have wasted time and energy by getting prepared mentally for her words.
After taking a shower, I go down to the cafeteria room and find Tokino drinking beer. He has not changed his clothes yet. I know someone has just taken off from the base since I just heard the engine sound earlier. I have heard in earlier conversations that there are four pilots, so probably the other two are currently flying on a mission. It is getting dark outside. Even though my heart gets heavy when thinking about night shifts, the participants get proportionally more handsome bonuses accordingly, and the chance of their encountering enemies in the dark is low. There are quite a few of those who think that it is such a good deal.
Usually, I do not drink a lot. If anything, I am not a heavy drinker. However, on the first day of the deployment to the new base, we have just shot down three enemies, the two of which were brought down by my aircraft. In addition, my comrade is waiting for me while having already started on drinking ... Under such a circumstance, if I do not drink, then I would not be able to blame others for accusing me of being as sociable as a load of packages tied to the top part of a sled of an arctic expedition team. Of course, I do not dislike the taste of alcohol. I like to get drunk. Besides, it is necessary for me to forget various issues. So, I know that the act of creating time during which I do not recall anything by drinking alcohol is meaningful to a certain extent. It is like bubbles in an aquarium containing tropical fish. They just bubble up and vanish. I think it is a smart way for someone to live comfortably. But it is obvious that the very act of living itself is not so pleasant. No matter how many bubbles go up and pop, it is also obvious that it won’t make much difference. With no exception, drinkers know that.
I take a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator, and approach Tokino’s table with a glass in my hand.
“Would you mind if I take a seat and drink close to you?” I ask politely.
“You are already close enough.” Tokino curves his lips.
“Within firing range?”
“The fridge is not working too well, is it?”
There are three empty beer bottles on the table, but his facial expression is not showing any sign of getting drunk.
I pour beer into a glass, and down half my glass in one gulp.
“Well, it is chilly enough.” I pour the rest of what remains in the bottle into Tokino’s glass.
“Oh ... You are a reliable tandem partner. That was a big help.” Tokino says so calmly. “How did you manage to shoot down two enemy planes? If I were you, I would have run away.”
“Compliments?”
“Hey ...” He winks.
“You made a quick work on your opponent, too.”
“It’s a fluke. My opponent was an amateur.”
“Modesty?”
“I guess ...” Tokino nods. “Modesty. That is the first time I hear that word in a long while.”
“Same for me. Both of them were novices.” I gulp down beer, and sigh. “If they were professionals, I would be swimming by now.”
“Can you swim?”
“No, I have never swum in my life.” I laugh. “I hate water. I don’t like it frozen, either.”
“Do you dislike refrigerators as well?”
“Umm.” I look back at the refrigerator. “She’s not bad.”
“She is fair-skinned and glam.”
“Shall I bring more beer?”
“Yeah. Fermented water is my favorite.” While saying so, Tokino attempts to pour beer into his glass, but the bottle is empty. “Tut!” He clucks his tongue, stands up, and walks to the refrigerator. Was he listening to me?
“Where did you previously belong to?” While opening the refrigerator door, Tokino looks at me.
“Well ...” I smile. “In the abdomen of my mother.”
Tokino has his lips curved even more, and looks up at the ceiling once. I feel that it is quite an honor to have my joke understood. That is the way it has got to be, for it is for beginners.
“It is the last bottle for tonight.” He gets back to the table with the beer bottle.
“I’ve got enough.”
“Are you humbly declining the offer?”
“Humbly? What a nostalgic word.”
Tokino’s hair is longer than mine. His body is far bigger as well. His hands are also huge and rugged. It is somewhat like a hand of a skeleton, I think.
“When you are firing shots, do you feel good?” While putting his lips on the glass once, Tokino asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you feel as if the bullets you have shot are absorbed into the target’s body?”
“No.” I answer. I am looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t see the enemy when shooting bullets.”
“You don’t see, you say?” Tokino frowns.
“That’s a waste of my time.” I drink up the rest of the beer.
“When you shoot, do you pray, or something?”
“No ..., I search for the next target. If I have time to see the bullet trajectory, I should look around and see behind me. I get more benefits by doing so.”
“Hmm, you think so ...” He nods. “That sounds nice. That makes sense. I will do that myself next time. But, you did not learn that in military school, did you? They taught you to gaze into the enemy, didn’t they? Didn’t the manuals mention things like, ‘Such tenacity would decide the victor of the battle’?”
There is no way that such spiritualistic things are written on the text.
“If the bullets do not hit the target, that shouldn’t be a problem.” I sigh. “It does not matter, as long as it does not fire back at me.”
“Is it nonsense that you are saying?”
“I don’t think so ...”
While doing this job, my body has learned several things naturally. Among them, that method of attack that I implement is one of the few ways that I can express with mere words. I mean, as soon as I intend to shoot the machine gun at the target, I should already be seeing the next target by that time. It is very simple at the surface of the words. In short, seeing the immediate target which I am just about to fire at is a complete waste of time. Such a defenseless moment is too much of a risk for the pilot. After realizing that from my experience, I have been feeling better. I have learned not to panic in the middle of dogfights. I do not stop my maneuvers anymore, and can make everything flow smoothly. As a result, I can lessen my fatigue and stress. I can say it is an esoteric technique that I have formulated. However, whomever I talk with about this issue, almost no one takes what I say seriously.
“How about going out tonight?” Tokino suddenly changes the subject. Even though no one else is in the cafeteria, he puts his head near me and whispers in a low voice.
“Where to?” I ask. Of course, I think I can approximately guess what he wants to mean.
“You know, as a formality, introducing you is ...” He is pausing his statement.
“Is, what?”
“I mean, my duty. Probably, I think.”
“Is that where you were last night?”
“No ...” Tokino shakes his head sideways once. But his eyes are glaring at me for a while.
-5-
We have easily got permission to leave the base. As I hop on the back of Tokino’s large-sized motorbike behind his back, we are driving on a straight road that connects the base with a downtown. Although I am wearing my flight suit, it is very cold due to my body being air-cooled. Even so, I do not dislike the feeling of my body being cooled, because from that I feel the ecstasy of my getting closer to the moment of death.
In the middle of the way, we ride on a bank and cross an iron bridge. The river around here has almost no water. Tall weeds are overgrown, and are spread wide under the bridge. When the wind blows, the sheet of weeds ripples like waves as if they were pretending to be the surface of water.
I am wearing goggles and a leather hat. I think its belt on my chin might be leaving the mark, and it bothers me.
The sky is dark blue. The orange moon is floating and wavering to our right. I feel the urge for turning toward the direction to shoot it down. Whatever vehicle I get on, I always feel the impulse to check what is behind my back. I have to speak many times to myself, who keeps on trying to watch my back, You do not have to do that now.
The engine of Tokino’s motorbike is straight-twin. I have never driven such a large two-wheeled vehicle. If it falls down on its side, I probably won’t be able to stand it right back up with my strength. The strokes from the engine camshaft are tuned at a comfortably high frequency, and are sounding sexy. The revolution is so smooth as if it is still leaving extra leeway. The way the sound in the exhaust pipe sometimes grumbles like a fretful child is somewhat cute.
The motorbike slips into the parking lot of a drive-in diner, which has a bright yellow neon sign. I see several flat houses around the place. After Tokino’s motorbike becomes quiet, the songs of insects silently seeps into my ears. A bug zapper is buzzing and discharging sparks at the entrance. Bugs are occasionally colliding with the bug zapper, and are making the faint zapping sounds sporadically. A huge truck towing a trailer is parked across the street. It is too big to enter the parking lot. I feel somewhat uneasy when such an object is too close to me because it would be an easy target from the sky.
“What is this place?” I ask while taking off my goggles.
“Meat pies are delicious here.” Tokino says. “Aren’t you hungry?”
On a brick terrace, which is one step higher than the asphalt ground, an elderly man with dirty clothes is sitting. Holding a bottle in a paper bag, he is staring at us.
We push a glass door and get inside. The place is filled with cigarette smoke and slow-tempo rock ‘n’ roll music, the mixture ratio of which is probably 4 to 6. I feel somewhat of the pressure. Tokino is whispering something to an old man standing behind the bar counter. Then, he signals to me with his eyes. We walk to the inner part on the right side, and reach a table at the corner. We see the terrace, brightly lit with yellow neon, and a pitch-black parking lot through the glass of the windows. Only a silhouette of the huge trailer on the road can be barely seen.
I do not know where she has been, but a woman wearing a white apron appears. She is standing beside the table, flips over the pages of a memo pad, and holds a pencil to jot down something. It must be a proper gesture to indicate that she is coming here without saying a word to take our orders.
“Beer for me, and a meat pie for him.” Tokino orders.
“Coffee, please.” I order, while lighting a cigarette.
She is jotting down the orders without saying anything.
After finishing it, she looks at us and widens her eyes.
“That’s all.” Tokino says.
I see the waitress leaving the table, and then ask in a low voice. “Is this the place where you should bring me to?”
“Here is Point 1.” Tokino snorts. Then, he looks back, surveys the diner once, and then looks at me. “There are such things as proper procedures for things to do. You just saw the old man drinking outside, right?”
“Yeah. He was drinking. Why doesn’t he get in?”
“He drinks water.” Tokino picks up a cigarette, too. “At this point, there is no longer any difference between water and alcohol for him. He says something runs on the road, and runs past him. He is always waiting for it, just like that.”
“What passes him by?”
“I’m not sure ...” Tokino exhales smoke, and throws a match into the ashtray. “God, maybe.”
“Happy life.” I smile.
“At least, happier than ours.” Tokino utters.
In every town, there are old men who are waiting for something. For some reason, children wait for nothing. Am I waiting for something? No, of course, there is nothing for me to wait for. In short, I am a child. Yes ..., I am a child, literally speaking. I guess I will remain this way forever. I can bet anyone so.
Drinks and a meat pie are brought to the table. The pie is on an oversized, white plastic plate. It is frightfully settled down, as if it has been on the plate since last night. The coffee is slightly lacking in enough intellect and heat, but its bitterness is sufficient. If anything, it is my favorite taste.
While viewing the bottles arranged in the bar counter, I see a familiar face in a mirror nearby. As I do not have any acquaintance in this downtown, I am a little surprised.
The one who is getting inside the diner is Sasakura, the mechanic. He is turning up the collar of a gray jumpsuit, wearing a white cap deep. He is walking toward us while sticking his head out to his front like dinosaurs would do.
“Hey ...” With his hands in the pockets, Sasakura smiles slightly. Also, his expression is looking as if his face is twitching. He is also looking as if he is winking. I wonder if his face is paralyzed. But, it might be just another illusion that I am seeing.
“The condition of the aircraft was good. It was superb.” I tell him. “I was going to thank you, but you were not in the factory.”
“I was sleeping.” Sasakura replies. “There was no drop tank, and the cowling was ... though ...”
I cannot catch the last part of his statement. It is not because the music is too loud. Instead, it has to do with the way he speaks.
“Three cats.” Tokino answers. “Why don’t you take a seat here?”
“Ah, no, thanks. My companion will soon come here.” Without changing his expression, Sasakura declines the offer from Tokino. “How is it going for you?”
“I am waiting for my companion, too.”
“That is not what I meant. I mean, about your engine.” Sasakura gets one of his eyes squinted.
“Oh, well. You mean my engine.”
“On medium speed, did you not feel it was loose?”
“I think it’s so-so.” Tokino answers.
“Loose, or too much choking? Which was it?”
“I’m not sure under today’s weather condition. I will wait and see, to observe how it goes a little more.”
“Please do so.” Sasakura replies. He looks at me. “Are you also waiting for someone?”
“I’m not sure ...” I shrug in an exaggerated fashion on purpose.
“Three cats.” Tokino laughs.
Sasakura walks toward the opposite side of the diner. Because this place is shaped like the letter L (viewed from above), we cannot see the other end over the corner. I wonder slightly what type of person his companion would be. But, I take my attention away from the interest in the subject within two seconds, and look outside. I just want to check out how Sasakura has just gotten to this place. Probably, by motorbike or by car. But, I do not recognize such things in the parking lot. To begin with, I have not heard that sort of sound.
“Decent guy.” Tokino says. Is it how he evaluates Sasakura?
Before I know it, the music has now changed to blues.
-6-
A big sedan is entering the parking lot. The width of its hood is as huge as a living room, and it is decorated with an ornament like a vertical fin on the rear end. It is a stupid and useless design that has no functional purpose. The ones who are getting out of the car are two young women. One is wearing a black short skirt and the other one is in a white, long one-piece dress. Tokino changes his facial expressions when he sees them. So, I understand what is up with this. As expected, after entering the diner, the two women find Tokino, and are approaching us.
“Good evening, Naofumi.” The woman with a black miniskirt greets with both of her hands open in front of her chest. Several silver rings are glittering.
The woman in a white one-piece dress is standing, while she seems to be glaring at me.
“This guy is Kannami, a newcomer.” Tokino introduces me to the ladies.
“How are you, Kannami?” The girl with a black skirt smiles.
“Compared to when?” I reply with the edge of my lips raised a little.
The woman in a black miniskirt is Kusumi. She has long, straight hair and her face reminds me of chocolate. The other woman in a white one-piece dress is Fuko. Her hair is short and pink. She has an owl tattoo on her chest. Her voice is so husky that at first I thought she was catching a cold.
The ladies drink beer. Small green labels are on the bottles. I have never seen or heard of such a brand. When we are about to be done with listening to the third song, Tokino stands up and we are going outside. He seems to have decided to make it on him tonight, and he is paying at the register. Then, he asks me.
“How did you like it?”
“Like what?”
“Meat pie.”
“Oh ...” I nod. “Speaking of which, I have eaten it a long time ago.”
Tokino bursts into laughter. The ladies behind me are also chuckling. They seem to think that I just said a joke. I did not really mean that. I was merely telling them that I really ate a meat pie long time ago and the taste is similar to the one I have just eaten tonight. Things have certain, proper orders to execute. Each time I try to neatly explain things in the correct order, I usually fail. However, meat pies in general are often crushed like defeated boxers. I guess they are irreplaceable. I soon give up on sharing information with them in the early going, and stop recalling various memories. I am not in such a mood tonight.
We hop on that huge sedan. I wonder why such wide cars have been manufactured. Indeed, I am not sure of what the designer was thinking. Fuko puts Kusumi on the driver’s seat, Tokino on the passenger’s seat, and then me on the back seat. She then sits beside me. The car rubs the road with its front end (bumper), its bottom, and its rear end (back fender) one by one. Additionally, the tires are making a screeching noise, the muffler is emitting an explosive sound, and the car accelerates gradually. Too many ceremonies with no substance. Probably, this car packs as much as 700 horsepower. I am suspecting that it is funneling the power to some sort of secret purposes. For example, a screw or a propeller might be rotating on the back of the car. Or, a circular saw installed on the bottom of the car might be rotating to cut the pavement of the road. Judging from the way the engine is generating the sound, it is an eight-cylinder engine. However, once Kusumi reaches for the car stereo and pushes a switch, nothing can be heard anymore as if we are entering the Earth’s atmosphere.
The road runs straight. Lights pass by us on both sides of the road, just about when I almost forget about their presences. Only the vicinities around the lights are vaguely glowing in purple. The drumbeats vibrating my abdomen are about to break the speakers. The scent of perfume from Fuko, who is leaning on me, is about to make my head ache. The owl tattoo on her chest is glaring at me, as if it is cursing the tranquility of the forest which it had been living in.
We stray off the road, enter the forest, and finally climb up a stone-paved slope as if we were advancing in a pool of mud. Between square columns on both sides is a trim steel fence. In the headlights, the fence slowly opens inward. Beyond that, the forest continues for a while. We say nothing. I inhale the fresh air coming through the windows. Of course, I might be just deceived into believing that it is fresh. An illuminated mansion appears, whose entrance our car approaches along the curving road. It looks like a vacation cottage of a rich man. I have seen a mansion like this in a movie just once in the past. It was on fire in the final scene of the movie.
“How do you like it?” Tokino looks back and asks me.
“About what?” I ask back.
“You have also been here a long time ago, right?” Tokino asks, and laughs. I guess that he is intending it to be some sort of joke.
“I’m not sure.” Just for the formality of it, I laugh back at him.
After getting off the car, we walk through a large door, which a doorman dressed up pretentiously is opening for us, and enter the lobby. Three women are looking at us over the railing on the second floor of the open ceiling space. In my imagination, I shoot machine guns to take care of the three immediately. On the right side of the lobby is a carpeted space. It leads to the inner part. Although it is too dark in the deeper part, I can see a part of a counter bar. I hear human voices from the direction.
I pick up a cigarette and light it. I did not smoke in the car. At that point, I have already stopped thinking about anything. It makes me wonder why I can do that.
“Then, later.” Tokino whispers.
“Later? What? What do you mean by that?”
“Unless something happens, we will get back together. It is what the relationship between you and me is about.”
“Is there any chance of something happening?” I ask, just in case. I do not think that my face is showing a smile.
“Fuko will tell you about it.”
“About what?”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Why would I do that?”
Tokino does not answer, and climbs up the stairs with Kusumi as if they were getting entangled with each other.
“Would you like to have something to drink?” Fuko is standing beside me.
“Yes, if it is not alcoholic.” I reply.
“You mean juice, or something like that?” She widens her eyes. She seems to be startled by something. “What would you like?”
“Anything but vegetables.”
“Vegetables?” Fuko smiles, by showing her white teeth.
She raises a hand to gesture for me to wait, and walks toward the inner part.
One of the women on the second floor is saying something to me, who is left in the lobby. Quite regrettably, I do not understand the language. Probably, it is because she was shot down by me a moment ago. The woman next to her is planting both of her elbows on the railing, and both of her hands are cupping her cheeks. The third one climbs down to the middle of the stairway, sits down on the stair, and crosses her legs. She might be wanting to show off the new pair of her stockings. However, I have almost no knowledge of the functionality for stockings.
“How is Suito?” That woman on the stairway asks.
Because an ashtray is within the vicinity, I approach the base of the stairway a little. While dropping the ash, I look at the woman on the stairs again.
“Suito? Who?” I ask.
She is laughing, and does not answer.
Does she mean Suito Kusanagi? I do not know any other person with that name. I am reminded of her desk I saw this morning for the first time. Such a neat, clean, and accurate desk must be unusual. It is like an aircraft carrier.
Fuko is getting back. She is holding in her hand a glass filled with red liquid in her hand.
“Tomatoes? I’m sorry, but I don’t like tomatoes.”
“No, orange.”
“Orange?”
Even though I am shocked, I tentatively take a sip. It really tastes like orange. The woman on the stairs laughs.
“Are you afraid of tomatoes?” Fuko leans her head sideways, while showing that she is amused.
“Tomatoes are vegetables.” I answer.
Fuko turns around, and is about to climb up the stairs. “You are getting on the way.” Fuko warns to the woman in the middle of the stairway. Fuko looks back at me, so I follow her. The woman who has just moved back to the wall on the stairway, greets me, “Welcome, boy.” to me, who is walking by.
-7-
“If you are here, then it means that Jinroh is dead. Right?” Fuko, sitting on the bed, says.
“I’m not sure ...” I reply. “Because I don’t know who Jinroh is.”
“Jinroh said basically the same thing on his first day.”
“How long had he been here?” After putting on a shirt, I light the first cigarette in a long time, and walk toward the window. I first see the sky. It is my most favorite of things outside.
“For about half a year.”
The courtyard surrounded by this U-shaped building is being illuminated. It seems to be covered with white sand. A strange pattern is drawn on it, and modern-looking stone lanterns are placed. Over the courtyard is a bamboo forest. I am not sure how far it stretches. I do not think it is natural, though.
“Would you like to drink something?”
“I want coffee, if it is available.”
“No problem. Sure thing.”
Fuko gets up from the bed, and walks to the cabinet.
“For how long has Tokino been here?” I ask.
“About a year, I think.” Fuko answers without looking at me.
“And you? How long?”
Fuko slowly looks back at me and smiles, while biting her lips.
“‘And you?’ You ask me. You mean, me? That’s funny ...”
“Oh really?” I lean my head sideways with a serious look. “I think only you and I are here.”
“You are saying ‘you and I’ ...” Fuko chuckles and looks away. “Like a child.”
I look outside the window again. The sky is clear. The stars are vividly clear. It is as if there is another sky above the cloud.
“Are you getting angry?” Fuko whispers.
I look back at her. She is gazing at me with a serious look on her face.
“Why?” I ask back.
“Are you getting angry, because I just said ‘Like a child.’ ...?”
“I’m a child.” I utter, and then smile.
That is the way it is, because I am a professional pilot. It is a profession that adults cannot take. Does she think that such a remark would make me angry? Or, perhaps, late Jinroh used to get angry with this sort of thing. That has got to be it. I can get angry if I try. That is what I am thinking, while I am tracing the logic backward.
I mean, it goes like this: They regard becoming adults as an ability. They think that staying young and remaining to be children are considered to be the lack of the ability to become adults. If they make the stand on the issue, based on the logic, they can look down on the children like us. That is the basis for such a mechanism of the society, I guess.
However, is it not that becoming adults is equivalent to aging, climbing down the mountain, and approaching the bottom of a gorge named death.
I am just wondering ...
Are people really afraid of death?
I always think about it, while casting doubts on it. I used to think about it when I was observing my parents, adults, and elderly people close to me. Are people afraid of dying? Do they continue to live while being frightened? It seems that I cannot discover such signs of tendencies.
What do ordinary adults think about the children like us who were born unexpectedly? How do they observe us? How can they incorporate the very notions into their lives the fact that children like us die in wars, even though it is our duty? What are they accepting?
Dying while remaining to be children.
Dying after becoming adults and aging.
What are the differences between them, and how can they be different?
We cannot compare them with each other in any way. That is the answer. No one can compare them with each other. It is impossible for a single person to experience both.
I think that either way would be fine. As I contemplate such issues, time flies rapidly. However, I might have to brood on it at times. The situation in which time is passing continuously is a proof of my being alive.
I look at my wristwatch. I should go back now.
“Hey, do you like flying in the sky?” Fuko asks.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Good for you.” She smiles happily. It is a smile like that of a squirrel. I think that she is trying to flatter me.
So, I am smiling for her.
Like a child.
In a way such as this one, I sometimes want to give them back to someone.
They are the things that people were given when they were in their childhood.
Everybody, without exception ...
-8-
That whale-like sedan is driving us back to the drive-in diner. This time around, Tokino and I sit in the back seats, Kusumi in the driver’s seat, and Fuko in the passenger’s seat. The wind blowing in from a half-opened window is chilly. My heart is feeling heavy just from thinking that I will have to get on Tokino’s motorbike after this ride. Kusumi says she wants to take a ride on Tokino’s motorcycle. She is coming forward to replace me as the one to be exposed to the cold air. She is strange.
When we arrive at the drive-in diner, the old man is not at the entrance anymore. As Sasakura probably has just seen us arriving at the place, he is walking out of the diner from the entrance door alone at the very timing.
“Oh well ..., you two.” He is calling out cheerfully while seeing Tokino and me. His mood shift has gone through a lot of extreme phases in the last few hours. He looks quite drunk. “Where to from now on?”
“We are leaving now.” Tokino replies. He starts the engine of the motorbike. “Hey, Kannami.”
“What?” I am walking toward him.
“Can you lend your flight suit to her?” Tokino asks. “She can’t stand getting blown by the chilly wind until she reaches the base.”
Has he actually been thinking about making her stand the chill? That is quite a shocker to me. I take off my flight suit and toss it to Kusumi.
“Thank you.” She smiles. She is holding with her lips a cigarette oriented diagonally.
I get back to the car and ask Sasakura, who is standing.
“How did you get here?”
“By bus.” Sasakura answers while looking at his wristwatch. “How about you?”
“Do you drive?” I reply, while seeing Fuko.
“I am not good at it.” Fuko sticks out her tongue.
The engine of the motorcycle roars. Once Kusumi sits astride the motorbike, and clings to Tokino’s back, they rush into the road. It is like a scrambling acceleration of a fighter plane taking off from an aircraft carrier.
“Now, I think I am the one who has to drive.” I sigh. “Mr. Sasakura, you can go ahead and come with me.”
“You’re sober, aren’t you?” Fuko speaks.
I sit in the driver’s seat of the whale-like sedan, and hold a large, thin steering wheel. It is looking so unreliable. I do not want to drive such a boxy vehicle. Fuko takes the passenger’s seat and Sasakura sits in the back seat. I start the engine.
“Hey, one of the engines is dead, isn’t it?” Sasakura murmurs. “Of course, it is reliable enough, for it still works even if one of them is dead.”
“Isn’t there only one engine in this car?” Fuko looks back, and asks him.
“I mean cylinders.” Sasakura is looking annoyed. “You should have the spark plugs checked.”
“What are spark plugs?”
The car slowly gets on the road, and the headlights are directed toward the far end of the straight, dark road.
“Was a person named Jinroh assigned to the base before I am?” I look back halfway and ask Sasakura.
“Yeah ...” With his legs crossed, Sasakura is shutting his eyes. He loosely exhales the breath. “The aircraft you hopped onto today used to belong to your predecessor.”
“What did he refer to that as?”
“What do you mean by ‘that’?”
“I mean that aircraft.”
“Well. No, he did not give any name to it in particular.” Sasakura answers. “No one names aircrafts here. After all, there are only four aircrafts.”
“When did he die?” Fuko in the passenger’s seat puts her elbows on the back of the seat and turns around backward. “Hey, can you tell me where Jinroh’s grave is?”
“I appreciate that you are allowing me to take a ride on this car. Thanks for that.” Sasakura says. “However, I cannot tell you anything about that.”
“But, he died, didn’t he?”
“He is no longer with us here. That’s all.”
“He died.”
As Tokino’s motorcycle is way ahead of us already, we cannot see the light or anything. No other car runs on the road here. The fog has set in, which is giving me the impression as if we were flying in the sky. That is how much the suspension is so wobbly.
We cross an iron bridge, get off a bank, and run along a forest. As we get only about 100 meters from the base, I locate Tokino’s motorbike and step on the brake to park it at the location.
“Um, where are they?” Fuko looks around restlessly.
There is no trace of human figure nearby.
We get out of the car. After a while, Tokino and Kusumi appear from the dark forest. I first think that their voices sound as if they are quarrelling with each other. But, as we approach them, Kusumi becomes quiet.
I hand the car key to Kusumi. She crosses the road to reach the sedan. She looks to be in a bad mood, as if she were carrying a frying pan on her back.
“Good night, Kannami.” Fuko waves her hand. “Oh, I almost forgot. Tell me your first name.”
“Mine?”
“This kid is funny, ain’t he?” Fuko laughs.
“Bye-bye.” I open my hand.
“Hey, what’s your first name?”
“Yuichi.”
“Sorry about laughing.” Fuko smiles. “See you again, Yuichi.”
“Yeah, see you then ...”
“Promise me.”
I wave my hand just once for her.
“Later.” Tokino sits astride the motorbike. He then throws goggles and a hat to me. He is leaving by running away with his arm through his helmet.
The car which Kusumi and Fuko got in makes a U-turn, and goes back the same road that it has just used. After the tail lamps disappear, Sasakura and I start walking toward the base.
“I found two holes punched on the cowling.” Sasakura tells me.
“During today’s mission?”
“Yeah ...”
“Which side?”
“Upper right side. Not a scratch on the engine.”
It means that I was attacked at that particular time, which I happen to remember. Yeah, that more skilled pilot of the two. Probably, he was observing the trajectory in too much detail.
“How was the propeller?” I ask.
“Fortunately, no problem.”
We enter the premises through the gate, stray into the side, and walk on a lane leading to the courtyard. We make gritty sound with our shoes on the pebbled surface. It is very dark around the warehouse and the incinerator. The second floor of the office building is lit. I wonder if Suito Kusanagi is still there.
“When did Jinroh die?” I suddenly come up with the question.
“About a week ago.” Sasakura answers.
I was assigned to work in this base about three days ago.
My hand is searching inside my pocket for a cigarette. I am having a strangely uneasy feeling.
“Why did he die?” I ask.
The footsteps of the two of us.
We reach the courtyard, where it is brighter.
Sasakura does not answer.
I look up at the starlit sky just once.
“Then, good night.” Sasakura says.
“Good night.” I reply as well.
It is too dim for me to see his facial expression. Sasakura is walking toward the hangar. I wonder if he has a place to sleep there. He was also there last night.
When I get back to my room, the light is turned off. I turn on a small lamp on the desk. At the time, I am just reminded of the fact that I have forgotten to take back my flight suit from Kusumi. I make a slight sigh.
Tokino is already in the bed. He twitches just once. I take off the shirt and get into the bottom of the bunk bed. I have yet to get accustomed to the smell of the bed.
Then, I think about the two holes on the cowling.
The one who punched the holes would have been dead by now. He plunged into the water, while spitting fire. The other pilot who went down with a splash like a waterwheel of an excursion ship might have survived the crash. It seems that I, who shot down both of them, have just achieved the feat on the first day of the new assignment in this airbase, was bought a drink by the senior pilot, and was introduced to a new woman.
Dying and continuing to survive.
Which makes me happier? I wonder.
Hey, which one ...
The owl on Fuko’s chest comes up in my mind.
Why did Jinroh die?
Thinking about it creates nothing.
Probably ...
However.
Yes, the aircraft has been kept intact, without a scratch.
At least, it has been under the condition, even under which it has managed to be repaired within a week. It means that the aircraft did not crash. He was not shot down.
Then, for what reason did he die ...?
I wonder if he gave Fuko his flight suit.
He should have left such a thing for her.
A bed is boxy as well as a car is.
A coffin is boxy, too.
I do not like a boxy vehicle.