Episode 2: Canopy

Episode 2: Canopy

What little blood he had left trickled thinly down his wrist. He ordered Omba to look away, and, sobbing, Omba obeyed him. The Laughing Man’s last act, before turning his face to the bloodstained ground, was to pull off his mask.

This excerpt is from The Laughing Man, a short story included in Nine Stories (written by J. D. Salinger)

-1-

We have made the sortie five times over the span of two weeks. It probably is more frequent than average. Still, we have not encountered an enemy aircraft. This probability is very typical.

I have once chased away an enemy’s spy plane flying far higher than I was. I could not think that the fuel was plenty enough to get me within the shooting range. As soon as the spy plane noticed me, it rapidly turned around and got away. I still do not understand why it did so. Maybe, it might have misunderstood my aircraft as the latest model with innovative weapons of some sort.

Yesterday, I had to turn back in the middle because of the oil leakage. Additionally, I let the wheel of the landing gear drop into a ditch beside the runway. I was close to snapping the landing gear. I did not see the ditch at all because the weeds were overgrowing there and no one had told me about it. Of course, I did not really make any excuse. Besides, no one even made any sarcastic remark about it to me.

According to the original plan, I was going to make a sortie with two other aircrafts today. However, since the repair work for the oil leakage is not finished, I have a senior pilot named Shinoda take my place as the substitute. In other words, only I alone have to wait on the ground, without flying in the sky.

Just waiting on the ground. Just looking up into the sky at the others flying. I suppose I cannot easily explain how it feels. Loneliness, vexation, or emptiness? Is it resentment, disconsolation, or anxiety. None of them feels right, probably. Drowsiness might barely be close to the feeling. My thoughts become vague and the feeling of my being alive is getting farther away from me. It is difficult for me to believe that I am a human. For example, the weed whose head has been cut by a stick swung by a kid might have a similar feeling to mine. In short, I can surely say that it is the worst-case scenario of the condition. That is what I think.

I walk on the edge of the runway, and then I sit down in the shade of a tree near a runway lighting system. I stretch my legs forward on the ground and am leaning against a tree trunk. If the place were under the sunny sky, I might have looked like a mudguard for an entrance threshold that was being dried after being washed. I mean, I am dangling and being stretched moderately to a certain extent.

A bee is flying near me, and I am observing it. At first, I start doing so because I have come to think that it may be a good way of training. Recently, I occasionally find myself following small, moving objects. As long as it does not go too far away, I never lose them. After it gets out of sight, I gaze for a while into the air in which nothing is flying. Even though my mind is murky, both of my eyes want to focus on something. My eyes seem to know the role, and what to do.

There is almost no wind. Even small weeds do not move.

Many unusual things can be seen at the ground level.

Although there is nothing in the sky, why do so many things gather here? Have they fallen off from the sky?

Short grass is sensitive to the transition of seasons. The color has already become light brown. I do not know how the winter goes here. I wonder if it will snow. I want to see the moment when the snowflakes fall from the sky and collide with the ground. I wonder if they bounce off the ground.

I hear the rapping sound. It comes from the direction of the hangar. The motor sound of a compressor can also be heard intermittently. It is as if musicians are forming a rock band.

When I went to the hangar to check out what was going on a moment ago, the engine was still on the fuselage of the aircraft. Sasakura shook his head, saying, he was not sure of the reason why the oil was leaking. It was not that he was in a bad mood or getting into a trouble. He was looking rather joyful like a tagger of a hide-and-seek game, so I felt he would soon find and seek the hidden problem. After that, I walked out of the hangar and to this place directly.

I am smoking a cigarette.

Only by observing the flow of the smoke, I can understand the direction of the wind. That is how nearly windless and how fine the weather is. Bombers can drop bombs even from the outer space.

The figure of a person moves inside the shutter of the hangar. The one wearing a green uniform, who is talking with Sasakura in his white jumpsuit, is Suito Kusanagi. I can tell that she is looking at me. I do not have any confidence in my arm strength, but I have never met anyone who has better eyesight than I do. I am almost lying on the ground. In addition, I am in the shade of a tree. Probably, she cannot see my figure.

Kusanagi starts walking from the hangar toward me. Since the distance between us is still several hundreds meters, she would need three or four minutes to get here at the normal pace. I tend to do such a quick calculation in my head, and I can say that it is one of my occupational disorders. I take a glance at my wristwatch. I am on lunch break.

I am thinking about what to do. Shall I secretly hide myself in a forest behind me before it is too late? Or, shall I get up and go to the hangar to welcome her?

Whichever action I take might be okay. While I am thinking so, Kusanagi is getting close enough to me to find me. I am still not sure what to do about it. I lower the peak of my cap to wear it deeper to hide my face. I have decided to pretend that I am sleeping. I myself am admitting that it is a good idea because of its being potentially harmless to anyone. Now is the lunch break. I may be able to get away with this situation by letting her pass by me.

I am lying still, while seeing from below the peak of my cap. I see Kusanagi approaching. I do not see her entire body. What I can only see are her legs. She is wearing smaller shoes than expected.

“Kannami.” She calls my name, while standing in front of me.

I raise the peak of my cap with one hand, and squint to make a face as if I am being blinded by the light. The distance between my toes and her is about one meter. She is looking down at me from the position.

I get my upper body up and shift my lower back to the rear to sit straight.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Stand up, if you have a will to talk with me.”

I am on lunch break. I come close to saying so. I actually used to do so without any hesitation, when I belonged to the previous airbase. However, I stand up without words, dust my pants several times, and salute to her. I think it is a masterpiece of salute that incorporates the sluggishness that can barely get away from receiving the negative remarks.

“It appears that the oil leakage is caused by doing too much on the first day ...” With her fingers on the frame of her glasses, Kusanagi approaches me. She gets inside the shade of a tree as well.

“Is that what Mr. Sasakura told you?” I ask.

“I heard your aircraft was modified to breathe automatically.” She occupies the spot I have been at, and leans against the tree trunk.

“Yes ...” I nod. “Can it be that only mine is modified?”

“I suppose so. Sasakura said he wants to have all other aircrafts modified as well. However, until the reason for the oil leakage is found, I cannot grant a permission to do so.”

“I am being used as a guinea pig, I suppose.” I snigger.

“Do you think you need the modification?”

“Someone needs that.”

“Do you think it is worth applying the modification?”

“What do you mean by ‘worth’?”

“I will give judgment on that. What is your personal opinion?”

“Honestly, it was the first time for me to experience such a direct control response.”

“Even so, it will not be good if there are problems with its durability.” Kusanagi does not change her facial expression. “Or, did you overdo something in a particular way?”

“No, nothing in particular.”

“Did a bullet hit any part of the aircraft?”

“Never.”

“But I heard that two bullets hit the cowling, though.”

“Considering their angles of incident, neither of them could reach the interior of the engine, I think.” I reply. I am almost certain about that.

“Okay ...” Kusanagi looks downward. Then, she notices the cigarette butt I have dumped. She points the toe of her shoe toward the litter. “Pick it up before you leave here. Smoking is not allowed on and near runways, as you probably know.”

“I apologize.”

Kusanagi has her back off the tree trunk and is about to go back to the hangar.

“Ma’am ...” I find myself stopping her.

“Yes?” She stops and slowly looks back.

“About a person who had piloted my current aircraft before I am assigned to the current post ...”

“Is there any problem?”

“May I ask?”

“About what?”

“Well.” I shrug. “About his name, or his character.”

“Jinro Kurita.” Kusanagi answers immediately. “He came here seven months ago. He made sorties 63 times in total. I admit that he had the skill.”

“Where did he go?” I ask.

“It’s a privacy matter.” Kusanagi raises her chin slightly.

“Why did he leave here?”

“Like I just said, it is the matter of privacy.”

“My transfer from the previous post to the current base was really urgent. I guess it was probably because this base needed a personnel. Did he quit suddenly?”

“That’s right.” Kusanagi nods.

“What was the reason?”

“What reason? The reason of what?”

“Well, I mean, the reason why he quit so suddenly.”

“Why are you interested in it?” Kusanagi counters by asking me back.

“Did he die?” I ask.

“If you think that way, then it makes no difference in the situation.” She answers without changing her expression. “To be, or nor to be. They are the only two conditions which any humans can be in.”

“Actually ... When a pilot succeeds the role from the predecessor, and continues to use the same aircraft, he usually communicates with the predecessor. The successor has to listen to the predecessor. Of course, it is only when the predecessor is still alive, that is.”

“That aircraft is still new. I have decided that there is no need for talking to him. Do you have any problem with that?”

“No, not at all.” I shake my head. “Fortunately.”

“There is no luck or fortune involved. It is the result of careful considerations.”

“That aircraft is one of the best models I have ever piloted to this day.”

“Anything else?” Kusanagi squints.

“Ma’am, are you a Kildren?” I ask.

Kusanagi’s eyes are widened.

Silence continues for a few seconds.

She opens her mouth a little and slowly exhales. I wait to hear what words are given off from it. Unfortunately, the atmosphere is not viscous enough to form words. I notice that she is trying to control her mental state. I can tell so, because she is smiling to hide the change of her mien. She is attempting to squint, to recover her original expression.

“Anything else?” It is the same vocal tone as the earlier one. I am impressed with the strength of her mind.

“No.” I salute quickly. This time, it really is to show my respect. Then, I look downward to see her feet. I wonder what the size of her shoes are.

I see.

She is also ...

At the moment, I see the back of a little girl.

Kusanagi is showing her back toward me, and is walking away. The back of her uniform has two creases and I am gazing into them for a while. It is a green uniform. On its shoulders, it has small metallic stars. They occasionally reflect light briefly.

On the runway and beyond, the dry air drifts with the gentleness of a dead person’s face. Even a bird is not flying. The leaves of the trees are still barely clinging to the branches. The resistance is the proof of living, even if such acts end up going down the drain repeatedly for nothing.

The only way to believe you are living is to show the resistance to something.

I pick up the cigarette butt and hold it in my hand. Kusanagi is now far away. I did not smell any uncomfortable artificial odor. I start walking toward the direction opposite to the hangar.

At a glance, Suito Kusanagi looks like a woman in her late 20s. She does not seem to be wearing makeup. Her hair is short. Moreover, her glasses are old-fashioned. Obviously, she is making efforts to make herself look older. She is pushing herself hard to be something else. For whom does she make such efforts? In this airbase, there are only around a dozen personnel, including us (the pilots), mechanic crews, other staffs, and office workers.

We, pilots, are even younger than other types of personnel. Compared to us, Kusanagi might be more composed and settled down to a certain extent. But, once we get out of the base, we can see so few young people. Very rare. Only by being young, they are standing out. That is the case for Kusanagi as well. She is special enough.

If we go to a downtown, we might be able to hide ourselves in the cloak of anonymity. But it would be impossible for us to hide ourselves, at least in such a rural area. We can do nothing if we are regarded as Kildren only by the fact that we are young. Then, people would easily be able to imagine what jobs we are engaged in. A military corporation, or an almost illegal religious corporation. The place where Tokino took me to last night was a religious corporation. I am sure of that. That is the way of this definite world.

I wonder since when things have been going on like this.

Probably, after the second great war ... Since that experiment was initiated ... Since then ...

I guess, at first, no one could expect that.

However ...

I am not sure whether it was really the case.

Correct information probably does not remain anymore.

The more the information is valid, the sooner it vanishes.

As my shoelace is loosened, I throw away the cigarette butt, crouches down, and tie the lace. A long time ago, when I was really young, I tied my shoelace by myself for the first time. Before that, I always had it tied by my mother, or by my elder sister. I thought it was naturally the way it was. However, after I entered the school, I had to live my life alone. It is difficult for me to tie my shoelace because my very feet are inserted into the shoes. The same is true for the buttons of my shirts. If the person wearing the shirt were not me, then it would have been very easy. But, if I myself am wearing it, then it becomes difficult all of a sudden.

We can easily punch somebody else’s faces, but each person cannot do so to his own face.

Once anything become our properties, we cannot interfere with them.

We cannot destroy anything of our own.

I cannot destroy myself.

Even though I can destroy others.

I cannot destroy myself.

Therefore, each time I tie my shoelace, I am reminded of that.

My mother and my elder sister are already gone. They had passed away.

I do not have a family member anymore.

So.

I have to tie my shoelace by myself.

The size of my shoes will not change forever.

-2-

After walking for about one hour, I have gotten back to my room and am taking a shower. The hot water does not flow too well. Then, when I go to the hangar to check the status, I find Sasakura sleeping on his back on a cart. I am tempted to pull the cart all over the place to give him a ride, but we are not that closely acquainted to each other enough to do such a thing. Even though the cowling of my aircraft has been taken off, other parts are where they should be. I feel relieved a little.

“Is it fixed?” I get closer to the cart, and ask.

Sasakura opens one of his eyes, looks at me, and nods without words.

“What’s the cause?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Thank you.”

I lower my head to walk under the shutter, and get outside.

Because, I hear engine sound. I look up and find three aircrafts coming back. They are flying to the leeward to prepare for the landing.

I notice that all of them are safe. So, I have decided to go to the downtown. It is still within our duty hours, but it is obvious that we do not have the work for the rest of the day. Even though I think there is no problem with my leaving earlier, But just in case, I go back to the inside of the hangar to call Kusanagi’s office with the intercom on the wall near the shutter.

“This is Kannami. I will go out to eat. May I?”

“You should be back early, because you are flying in the morning tomorrow.”

“Roger.”

Only such a short exchange of information is enough. I look back again and find Sasakura still sleeping on the cart.

“I will borrow your scooter.” I say to him loudly.

Even though there is no reply, he should have heard it. This is the third time I borrow his scooter. He hardly rides on it, so he wants to sell it to me at a reasonable price. I have heard that he restored what was given up by someone and dumped as a scrap. I guess it no longer fascinates him because it already works properly.

With the small scooter, I’m heading for the meat pie and coffee at the drive-in diner.

The weather is fine. I climb to a bank and cross an iron bridge. After that, the road stretches straight. I feel bad about the engine of the scooter not being able to get revved up any farther. This makes me feel as if I am flying more than an airplane does.

Even though I’m wearing goggles, my face feels the wind and my body is getting cooled down. I slow down a little in the middle. Anyway, I do appreciate the time in which I do not have to think about anything like now. It is worth riding the scooter just for the reason.

Probably because it is still in the early hours, only two vehicles are parked in the parking lot of the drive-in diner. A small sedan and a truck. Both of them might belong to the employees. I park the scooter near the entrance, climb up the brick steps, and enter the diner. The elder master glances at me. He should remember me by now. When I sit at the counter, he asks me, “Coffee, and?” I reply, “Meat pie.” At the table on the road side of the diner, an elderly couple is sitting across the table, facing each other. There is no trace of a waitress. No other customers. No music. I guess they are trying to save the electricity bill.

I light my cigarette and look at the road through the window.

“A bit early, eh?” The master says behind me.

I look back halfway. There is a coffee cup and a meat pie on a saucer. For a moment, I feel the aroma of the coffee.

“Shall I call?” The master opens his mouth again.

“What? Who?” I twist my head to see him. I get what he is trying to say immediately. “Ah, no ... After I eat it, I will come back soon.”

“How’s your buddy?” The master makes wrinkles on his face and smiles. He seems to be asking about Tokino.

“He might come a little later.” I reply. “I’m not sure. I mean, we haven’t flied together today.”

Tokino’s motorbike should be faster than the scooter by at least threefold.

“You guys are coming here ... after you give the targets good shots, right?” The master asks. He probably means “after we shoot down enemy aircrafts”.

“I don’t know ...” I lean my head sideways. I do not believe we have such a rule.

I wonder if it is the case for Tokino. Perhaps, he has decided to make it the rule. I can understand if he goes to the mansion where Kusumi and other girls are waiting, rather than he comes here.

One vehicle has just entered the parking lot and stopped. After a short while, a woman is entering the diner. I think I might know her. She is the waitress working here. I do not know her name. She looks about 35 years old, according to my personal estimation, though.

“Hello, Mr. Kannami.” She greets me. I wonder when she learned my name.

She goes into the back of the diner. I think it is a good time for me to know her name, and ask the master about it.

“That girl’s Yuri.” The master tells me the name. “She was close to Mr. Kurita, by the way.”

“Oh ...” I am a little surprised. She might be too mature to be called a ‘girl’. Her age can be around that of my mother.

“So was Fuko, right?” I ask. I remember Fuko was worried about Jinro Kurita.

“But, you know, that’s a completely different story.”

I do not understand how different they are, but I nod diplomatically. Maybe, professional and amateur. Or, business and volunteer. If not, one is physical and the other is mental? I come up with various ideas, but say nothing.

I have eaten a half of the pie. It is delicious as usual.

However, without barely drinking even a few sips of coffee, I have to get out of the diner in haste.

-3-

I hear engine sound. It is at an unfamiliar wavelength.

I go outside the diner, and look up at the sky.

It is from the direction of the mountains.

Clouds are proudly hovering at the high altitude of the clear sky.

I see them.

But, they are flying very high.

I rush into the diner and put a coin into the slot of a pay phone. I push the number of Kusanagi’s office.

One call.

“This is Kusanagi.”

“Greetings. This is Kannami.”

“Where are you now?”

“Drive-in diner.”

“Oh ...” She clucks her tongue. “Sorry, I’m busy ... I’m hanging up.”

“Several enemy aircrafts are heading toward the airbase. Probably, three Fortunes.”

“Two.” Kusanagi corrects.

“No, three.”

“Can you see them? Then, how long will it take?”

“No more than five minutes.”

“So, we have enough breathing room. But you cannot come back, right?”

“How do you deal with my aircraft?”

“There is no spare pilot but me.”

“Please.”

The phone is hung up.

“What are they doing?!” I shout in a low voice and put the receiver back on the phone.

Of course, the blame is against the ones in charge, who have allowed enemy planes to infiltrate this deep into the territory. But, whoever is responsible might already be dead. In our field, the person whom we want to get angry at have often been dead already. It is meaningless for them to regret in heaven.

I get out of the diner again.

The master and Yuri are looking up at the sky as well. They are now almost exactly above us. When you see bombers exactly straight up right above you, then you can assume that you are safe. The distance between this place and the airbase is about 20 kilometers. They need no more than three minutes. Maybe, it would take approximately one minute until they start dropping bombs. They should already be getting prepared for the bombing, while opening the bomb bay doors. I guess many holes would be punched on the runway. I just hope the bomb will not hit the buildings, especially the hangar ...

“They fly so high.” The master utters, while putting his hand above his forehead.

“Didn’t they once fly over at lower altitude before?” Yuri says. “You know, I thought they were planning to land on this road. I was so scared.”

“If they flied low, we would have been able to intercept them.” I say. “It is not easy for them to get this far.”

“They sometimes come here desperately, right?” The master speaks. “It often happened in the past.”

“Not anymore.” I smile.

Such aircrafts are rare nowadays. Desperate acts end up becoming wastes. Pilots are cooler than that, I think. To prove it, I get back inside the diner, eat up the rest of the meat pie, and drink up the coffee. The master is viewing the sky outside. I pay the money to Yuri, who has come back inside.

“Are you going back?” Yuri asks.

“Yeah, it might be the time.”

“Be careful.”

“About what?” I look at Yuri’s face.

Pursing her lips, she looks a bit angry. She might be really angry, because she says nothing.

I go outside.

“I haven’t heard the sound yet.” The master, sitting on the brick step, says. The images of the enemies cannot be seen because they have already flied past the forest.

“Another 15 seconds.” Saying so, I walk to the scooter.

When I start the engine and get onto the road, I hear a low explosion sound echoing around the area. It is not that loud. As loud as the cracks at a fireworks festival. If the time now were at night, I would have been able to see the light much sooner.

I start riding the scooter to the airbase.

I need at least 30 minutes with the scooter. Everything would be gotten over with by the time I get there. The timing will not be too bad, I think.

After I have ridden the scooter for about 10 minutes, a big sedan approaches from behind at a very high speed. It passes by my scooter and it slams on the brakes. Its tires screech. It skids diagonally, and stops. A white arm is stretched from the window of the passenger seat, and pink hair appears. Then, a girl’s face looks at me.

“Yuichi Kannami!” With the husky voice, Fuko shouts my full name. How has she managed to remember my name? I am impressed.

I approach the passenger seat of the sedan, while riding the scooter. Kusumi on the driver’s seat is looking at me behind Fuko.

“What are you doing here?” Fuko asks. “Are they okay? We see a few huge aircrafts flying over.”

“The base has already been bombed.” I tell her. “Something might burn or explode. The place near the base is dangerous. You shouldn’t go there in a hurry.”

“How’s Tokino?” Kusumi on the driver’s seat asks.

“I’m not sure ...”

“Hey, why don’t you get in this car?” Fuko suggests.

“No, I cannot leave this vehicle. I am borrowing this from someone.”

The sedan sinks the rear end once, starts running, and leaves the location. I resume riding the scooter slowly.

“Oh, yes.” I am recalling something.

I have to get my flight suit back from Kusumi ...

I’m worried that the iron bridge might be destroyed, but it is still there and we can cross it safely. Bombs do not seem to have been dropped near the bridge. If the bridge were shattered, I would not be able to locate where a backup bridge might be in the upper reaches of the river. I might not be able to come back to the base without swimming or finding a ship or something. Almost all the supplies to the base are brought with ships. So, the port must be the prime target of the bombing. But no matter how old and miserable-looking the bridge is, it is the lifeline for humans. It seems that the enemy side has not gathered enough information, for they have not targeted this bridge. But, I admit that I feel relieved, because I do not want to swim.

While getting down from the upper part of the bank, I see the smoke from the airbase rising.

-4-

There is almost no wind. But judging from the figures of the clouds I am looking up at, gales are blowing in the sky. In short, the calculation of the trajectory for dropping bombs had to be difficult. Unless it had the opportunity to calibrate the bombsight, errors by several hundred meters should occur. At a glance, I am relieved that buildings are not burning down. But, streaks of smoke are rising here and there. The black smoke rising from the forest over the runway seems to be the most furious. It is close to the area where I took a walk during the day. Although I threw a cigarette away without permission, it is now hardly possible for anyone to find that out.

I reach the front of the gate with the scooter. Kusumi and Fuko are standing there.

“You are late and late, Kannami?” Fuko says. She is wearing everyday clothes such as a sweater and jeans, which make her look several times more attractive than she was on the previous day.

“Hey, do you think we are allowed to enter the premises?” Kusumi is wearing a jacket and a denim skirt. Her hair is tied back.

No one else seems to be around here. Have they evacuated to some other places? I see what is beyond the road before us. At about 10 meters away from the gate, their sedan has run onto the pavement and is leaning painfully.

The three of us are entering the premises. I am walking while pushing the scooter. The office seems to be empty. We turn to the direction for the runway and see several people moving with fire extinguishers. In front of the hangar, Sasakura in a jumpsuit is standing.

An engine sound is approaching. Then, an aircraft is executing a low pass over the runway. Of course, it is Sanka Mark B. I cannot recognize whose aircraft it is, because it is quickly heading for the forest and I can only see the silhouette of the backlit figure.

“Naofumi. It’s Naofumi.” Kusumi raises her hands and is waving them.

“Hey, how can you tell that?” Fuko asks.

I too want to know that, so I wait for Kusumi’s response. But she does not answer.

Sasakura notices me and runs toward us.

“Are you all right?” I ask him. “Have they all managed to take off safely?”

“Yeah, we barely made it.” Sasakura answers.

“As for me, you know, I have ended up evacuating your scooter.”

“Kannami’s aircraft is the hardest one to handle. It is now flying without the cowling. We didn’t have time to fill up the tank. It may run out of gas by now.”

“I heard Ms. Kusanagi would be on the aircraft. Is that right?”

“Yes.” Sasakura nods, and sees the girls behind me. “I advise you have them get out of here soon. Ms. Kusanagi will be angry after coming back.”

“Whom will she be angry at?”

“The one who has them come in.”

I look back and see the two who are wearing the serious expressions.

“Certainly, me.” I say, while seeing Sasakura.

“He says, ‘Certainly, me.’” Fuko whispers behind me. “Hey, what kingdom have you been the prince of?”

“Stop talking to him like that.” It is Kusumi’s voice. “Now, we should go back. We already know they are safe. By the way, Kannami.”

I look back.

“Tell Tokino that we have come here.”

“Okay.”

“Bye-bye.” Fuko smiles.

“Oh, I am just reminded of something.” I remember something, and look at Kusumi.

“What?” She leans her head sideways.

“My flight suit.”

“Uh, oh, ah ..., yeah, right.” Kusumi smiles. “I will bring it next time. Maybe.”

“He says, ‘Certainly, mee.’ ...” Fuko says so again.

“Later.” Kusumi opens her palm.

Then, they are going back. Fuko looks back at me in the middle and waves her hand. Since it is a white and delicate arm, it might snap on a poor runway, I imagine such a strange thing. Sanka’s only shortcoming is its vulnerability of the landing gear. It is a type of aircraft that suits particular kinds of runways.

“Kannami, I have something to show you.” Sasakura says.

He is entering the hangar, followed by me without words. There is a stairway beside a giant toolbox by a wall. I wonder if it is a stairway that leads down to a pit. But it is deeper than expected. Probably the concrete of the hangar floor must be made thicker than usual in order to shelter the pit from bombardment. For that reason, the stairway going downward is longer than usual for the depth of one floor. There seem to be several storage rooms in the basement. Steel doors are lined up on both sides of the dark corridor. After passing them by, we reach a rather spacious area lit by florescent lights. A bed is placed at a corner surrounded by cold concrete walls. Three sturdy wooden desks are lined up in the form of the letter “L”. It is obvious that Sasakura lives here.

“Here.” Sasakura points at a thing on the desk.

I do not know what it is. Small parts are attached to a cylinder-shaped object that is as small as a pineapple can. Some pipes are protruding from it to different directions and are converging into the upper part. I also see electric cords. Sasakura is gingerly lifting the object with both of his hands to show its bottom side to me. It looks to be a structure to transfer the rotation to outside with its flexible joint. Or, conversely speaking, it might be a structure to receive the torque. I understand it is an engine-related or compressor-related something.

“What is this?” I utter the statement that comes out naturally.

“This part receives the torque of the camshaft, and this gives the pressure to the carburetor.” Sasakura explains.

“Air intake charger?”

“Doing it by a motor has the limitation. It works well at the starting time. But, at the end, the more and the faster the motor rotates, the weaker the motor gets.”

“If you were to make efforts like this, wouldn’t it be better for you to bore cylinders to increase the internal diameters? Even though the bores getting larger is not welcome, you can still resort to increasing the number of cylinders ...”

“I don’t want to make it more powerful.” Sasakura grins. “The whole point of this idea completely differs in that sense.”

“How does it differ?”

“It makes you fly higher than before.”

“It can’t be.” As I am saying so, I am rendered slightly shocked.

To gain the altitude, the system that allows to accept thin air is indispensable. Humans would not complain, as long as they are supported with oxygen masks. Pilots would be provided with heaters because it is a little cold up there. That is enough for luxury. As for the case of engines, the fuel mixture ratio needs to be changed. Or, the time of ignition needs to be changed. If I want to go to the extreme, I can make it apply more pressure on the intake air. It means, tricking the engine by telling it, “You are on the ground. Do not think you are flying.” Such a trick can work for a large aircraft like a bomber. The bomber crew would include a flight mechanic along with the pilot, and it has the luxury of slowly ascending to the higher altitude while taking time. But, fighter aircrafts do not get to fly in such a leisurely way. It has to rapidly gain the altitude by 1,000 meters within tens of seconds. And, just as fast going down. Overcoming the rapid change of atmospheric pressure in such situations is the most important theme regarding aircraft engines. In order for fighter aircrafts to reach the altitude of bombers in operation, it needs to take off after adjusting the engine to the atmospheric pressure of the high altitude in advance. In this case of the high-altitude adjustment, its engine power is drastically lessened. In the extreme case of things going bad, we can only expect 60 percent of its usual performance. Also, if the engine is not tuned for the higher altitude, and the enemy aircrafts appear suddenly, the fighter aircraft cannot just gain the altitude and approach the targets. The engine would stall easily. To put it another way, if the altitude of operation exceeds a certain level, propellers and wings have to be all replaced. That is the accepted convention. This is based on a logic that is similar to the reason why the general figures of submarines for the purpose of operation under the water and the typical shapes of airplanes that are designed for flying in the sky are different.

I cannot judge how realistic the mechanism Sasakura experimentally has made is. His method, in which the power of the structure to support the intake air compression is directly generated by the rotation torque of the engine, sounds smart to me. But, I guess the problem lies in the durability of the turbine. The materials have to be able to endure severe conditions, and they have to be processed precisely. For example, turbochargers, the turbines of which are driven by pressure of the exhaust gas, work well for large-sized engines. However, the reality is that, for small-sized engines of fighter aircrafts, turbochargers are useless because they break down so frequently. The fuel consumption can be slightly less and the power can be increased by 30 percent. But, with the addition of the vulnerable mechanism, the overall weight of the aircraft will be increased and the maintainability will be decreased. There are just too many sacrifices this way. Machines such as airplanes cannot fly if it has just one defect. If it cannot fly, then all parts become equivalent to pieces of scrap iron. There would be no value to them. So, it is natural for us to aim for mechanical structures that are as simple as possible.

“What do you think?” Sasakura asks. His eyes look joyful.

“I have no idea.” I reply honestly.

“I think it is worth trying.”

“Umm ... Probably, you’re right. I gotta at least try.”

“May I put this into your aircraft?”

“What?” I look at his face. Then, I see his point. “But, the official permission is required, correct?”

“You must remember the variable valve limiter that I installed the other day. I secretly did that.” Sasakura grins.

“You did that without permission?”

“I still told you about that. I felt I had to at least do that to you.”

“Of course you have to do that.” I find myself burst into laughter. “If you do such a thing as you like, a pilot cannot stand that. That’s like conducting experiments on human subjects.”

“But as for this, we cannot even do an easy experiment on the ground.”

“I will fly the aircraft with the modification, if you get permission from Ms. Kusanagi and if you let me carry a parachute on my back. Still, I’m not quite crazy about willing to do so. It won’t explode, will it?”

“Probably.” Sasakura nods. “But it is impossible for me to get a permission from Ms. Kusanagi. If I can, I don’t hide it in such a place.”

“I think she will understand it if you explain it to her properly. Now might be the chance, considering the fact that we were bombed today.”

“I don’t think so.” Sasakura shakes his head, and sits down on the bed with authority. The bed springs make creaky noise. “She will definitely say she needs a permission from the headquarters. She always does so.”

“If so, why don’t you wait for the permission from the headquarters?”

“It takes no less than two months.”

“Why?”

“My guess is that it has to do with matters pertaining to patents or something like that.”

“Oh ...” I nod.

“Moreover, there is almost no chance of getting the permission granted.”

“How pessimistic of you.”

“I need to prepare many and many pages of bothersome documents. Before that, I have to make a drawing for the design.”

“What? Haven’t you made a drawing yet?”

“I have to make an analysis report, and attach graphs of experimental data. In addition, I need to ask a big-shot professor of a certain university to check the contents and to grant me a seal of approval. With only one element lacking in the process, no permission will be granted. I cannot help but regard the system as a bureaucratic nuisance. I am convinced that everyone is trying to annoy me on purpose.”

“Why does the system as the company adopt such a bothersome system?”

“I think they do so in order to avoid consuming budget, labor, and facilities on wasteful researches and development.”

“Yours isn’t a waste, you think?” I dare to ask. I look at Sasakura while smirking. “I guess, in fact, you have either the analysis report or the experimental data, don’t you?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Then, what makes yours any different? Where is the element of conviction?”

“I made it.” Sasakura states, while glaring at me. “It’s the most distinguished point of my craft.”

“Compared to what?”

“Compared to the case in which another person makes it.”

“In short, you are saying that you are a special person.”

“Of course, I am special.”

“Is it from the objective viewpoint?”

“If I tell you that I am saying this from the subjective viewpoint, then that makes me a fool. Do you think that I can say so?”

“Are you a genius?” I ask.

“Yes.”

For a few seconds, Sasakura keeps on glaring at me. After that, he looks down at the floor. Then he puts his both hands on the back of his head and lie down on the bed like the start of a backstroke swimmer. He is doing so in his dirty jumpsuit. I think I would not do it like that. But if he is a genius, then he can do that, I suppose.

-5-

The three aircrafts have returned to the airbase soon. My dear precious aircraft, whose engine is exposed without the cowling, is taxiing in front of the hangar. I am meeting and welcoming it. I think I should thank her. Kusanagi, who is getting out from the canopy onto the wing, is not even wearing a helmet. She is just wearing a flight suit over the uniform, and sunglasses on her face.

“Good condition.” Kusanagi comments, after approaching me without smiling at all.

“About the engine?” I ask.

She nods.

“It means Mr. Sasakura is a good mechanic.”

“The automatic breathing is for beginners, though.”

“Right ...” I nod. “But I can focus on other issues, thanks to that.”

I look back and find Sasakura looking at us from the shade of the hangar shutter. He is too far away from us to hear our conversation.

“Tokino is late.” Kusanagi murmurs while walking.

“He has not come back yet.” I answer while looking up at the sky.

The other two have already landed on the runway. The hangar for the two is located opposite to the office building across the runway. Besides, there are several backup hangars for emergency situations. They are used for hiding malfunctioned aircrafts.

“He must have landed somewhere else.” She clucks her tongue, while looking at her wristwatch.

An aircraft as small as Sanka can easily land on a straight, smooth road. Tokino is probably loitering around somewhere.

“Mr. Sasakura seems to be developing a new device.” I have just decided to talk to her about it.

“What kind?”

“Umm ..., it’s a turbocharger of some sort.” The reason for my mentioning this has to do with my expecting that she might have just decided to respect Sasakura’s craftspersonship after she has experienced the effectiveness of the automatic breathing system. Sasakura talked about this with me a moment ago to get me to do this. I also feel like I want to help him at least in this way.

“Again ...” Kusanagi sighs slightly.

“I suppose it might be worth trying.”

“We have no time for that.” Kusanagi replies after glancing at me.

Our conversation is over. After that, we are walking without words. While walking, Kusanagi takes off her gloves. I am walking behind her diagonally while maintaining a certain distance like a wingmate. Her legs protruding from her skirt are straight and look smooth. I am realizing that she is not an adult, after all. Strictly speaking, getting on an airplane in a skirt like she has just done violates the regulation. I wonder if such a strange regulation was formulated by males or females. Anyway, I know for sure that it was introduced by adults. Adhering to such trivial things is the characteristic, privilege, and responsibility of adults.

“Is there anything that you want to talk to me about?” After reaching the hangar, Kusanagi stops in front of Sasakura, and asks him.

“Huh?” Sasakura widens his eyes. He glances at me only for a moment. “No, nothing in particular ... I don’t have a special topic of discussion ... Umm, was the oil pressure okay?”

“Yeah.” Kusanagi nods. “As of now, the pressure has not been lowered. However, I am not sure yet because I did not shake it so much. If it is deemed okay after two more flights, I want you to do the same thing to the other three aircrafts as well.”

“What?” Sasakura asks. “Err, ma’am, about what?”

“Modifying the breathing mechanism.”

“Oh ..., yes ma’am.” Sasakura smiles, and then he brings a blush to his face.

How pure-minded this genius is. I am observing the two, while lighting a cigarette a little far away from them.

Kusanagi walks by Sasakura, and grabs the receiver of the intercom hanging on a wall. She faces the inner part of the hangar and stands with her shoulder leaning on the wall. She is standing tilted.

“This is Kusanagi ... Yes, connect to the manager.” While saying so, she looks back at us once. She seems to be smiling, although it might be my imagination. Sasakura is walking toward me, as if he wants to stay away from Kusanagi. “Yes ..., anyway, get the manager on the line and tell him that I am safe after the flight. What? I do not care about the meeting. Just do that ... Yes, tell him ...” She shuts her mouth again. She looks downward as if she is staring at her feet. Then, she looks back at us again. “Hey, don’t you have a cigarette?”

I take out a box of cigarette from my chest pocket, and walk toward Kusanagi.

“No smoking allowed in hangar.” While I say so, I shake the box. She takes one of the cigarettes sticking out of the box, and holds it in her mouth. I light it for her.

“Thanks.” She casts an upward glance at me only for a moment.

I get back to the place where Sasakura is standing. For some reason, I feel it is a place like a spectator’s seat.

“It’s me. That’s right. Yes ..., correct ...” Kusanagi starts speaking over the phone. I and Sasakura take a few steps away from her. Still, her voice is clearly audible. “Right, that’s what I’m saying ... Miraculously, though ... Well, the damage is not serious. Yes ..., however, that’s just because the enemies made the mistake this time. Why was the warning late? What? That cannot be the reason. No, I cannot be satisfied with the explanation. What are you talking about? Oh ... I see. I will be there to storm in and then yell at them. So, who is in charge of that? Okay ...”

While sensing the wind blowing through the runway, I light my cigarette. I look back toward the hangar and see Kusanagi is standing while facing us. She is looking as if she is putting her hand on her face to bite her finger. No, in fact, she is just holding her cigarette. Sasakura and I walk toward the office building at a quick pace as if we want to get away from the location full of Kusanagi’s loud voice as soon as possible. Maybe, that is in fact what we are actually trying to do.

The deep exhaust sound of a bulldozer is resonating. It seems to be starting the process of filling the holes on the runway.

In front of the office building, we see Yudagawa and Shinoda. At the time, they are coming back from the opposite hangar.

“Kannami, where did you go?” Yudagawa with gray hair asks.

“Umm, I was just going out ...”

“Ms. Kusanagi got mad at you, right?”

“Not really.” I answer, smiling.

The other one named Shinoda has just disappeared into the building first. He is so taciturn that I have never seen him talking.

We look around at the runway again, and then push the glass door to enter the lobby.

-6-

It seems that the blackout has been continuing for a while. The contents of the refrigerator are not cold enough, but we are drinking beer in the lounge. There are three of us; I, Sasakura, and Yudagawa. Shinoda drank the first glass of beer in one gulp and quickly got out of here. Tokino has not come back yet.

Kusanagi is entering the lobby. I expect her to go upstairs, but she enters the lounge unexpectedly.

“Mr. Yudagawa, can you stand by at my desk upstairs?” She asks. “Perhaps, we might be getting an emergency call.”

“Okay, ma’am.” Yudagawa replies. “Only if I can eat and drink there, though.”

“Sure, of course.” Kusanagi nods. “I will go out for a little bit. Probably, I will come back in four to five hours.” She looks at her wristwatch. “Around 21:00, I suppose.”

“Go ahead, of course.” Yudagawa smiles. “You should take a rest and relax sometimes.”

“A task.” Kusanagi slowly pronounces the word. She looks at me. “Kannami, come with me.”

“What?” I rise to my feet. “Oh, you mean upstairs?”

“No, we are going out together, I mean ...” She slightly leans her head and starts walking. “In three minutes, at the front gate.”

“Oh, yes ...” I nod.

She might want me to become a chauffeur to drive her because she wants to go somewhere ... But, Kusanagi can drive by herself. Anyway, I rush back to my room and change into my uniform. I get out of the billet, and pass through the courtyard to go around to the gate, where a black sports car is waiting for me. Kusanagi is in the driver’s seat. I see the particular car for the first time. Apparently, she owns the car personally. I wonder where she usually parks it. I have never been to the vicinity around the opposite side of the office building since I was assigned here.

Once I get in the passenger’s seat, the car starts moving. It gets on the road through the gate and accelerates toward the bank. The engine sound is rather light and lyrical. A high-pitched tone of the cam sounds like the echo of a tuning fork. I wonder if it is a six-cylinder engine. Kusanagi is wearing the same clothes as earlier, with the sunglasses on.

“What task?” I ask.

“Well ..., you’re my bodyguard.”

“To where?”

“About 150 kilometers north from here.”

“The observatory? Or, the base next to it?” I inquire.

But, she does not answer, while seeing forward. The car gets on the bank and is gearing up. It is still increasing the speed. The iron bridge is approaching at an unbelievably high speed.

“I might not be a suitable person for your bodyguard.” I try to say so as if in murmuring.

Among the four pilots, I am the smallest of the frame. Probably, I am the lightest one. Maybe, I am as light as Kusanagi. Being a lightweight is an advantage as a pilot, but I think such a person is not so reliable on the ground. Honestly, I am not good at brawling. If I have what I can be at least a bit proud of, it is my escape velocity. In any situation, nothing can be more reliable than this factor. As for a fighter aircraft, I can engage in a dogfight while feeling safe, if its escape maneuver is sure-fire and secured.

We pass through the iron bridge in an instant. Entering the broader road, we are increasing the speed even more. We are going so fast that we might just be able to take off from the ground if we pull the stick to control the elevators.

Something is approaching us in the sky ahead of us. It is an airplane.

“Oh, that’s Tokino.” I first recognize it. Thanks to my good eyesight, I am quicker at identifying it.

“I knew he has loitered on his way.” Kusanagi also looks at it as she is positioning her head lower to get the better view angle. “You know the diner down the road, don’t you?”

“Yes. The drive-in, right?”

“Right ... The area has a straight road and little traffic.”

Is she saying that he landed on that area?

Tokino’s aircraft is passing by above us, while shaking its wings. He seems to be recognizing that this car is Kusanagi’s.

“But it is dangerous if a car rushes out of nowhere.”

“Of course, it is prohibited by the regulations.”

“He might be in an emergency situation.”

“Yes ... In order to drink coffee.”

Okay, I will try if I have a chance. I secretly think. But it would be miserable if I break the landing gear. Typical roads have quite a lot of uneven surfaces, more than I would expect. Also, there are jamming elements like manholes. The landing gears for Sanka are fragile, and the stroke of the suspension mechanism is shallow. Its small tires are not suitable for off-road taxiing.

I study the profile of Kusanagi, who is holding the steering wheel. She keeps looking straight ahead with a straight facial expression. If anything, she seems to be smiling. Anyway, I am relieved to know that Tokino is back safely. It is still before 16:00. It would take about two hours of one-way driving to the destination. I sit back in the seat and stretch my legs. The low engine sound is roaring behind us.

I am wondering if I should talk to her about something. Still, I cannot come up with proper words to start the conversation with. Asking her about her past is against the manners. On the other hand, asking her about her present might be considered the invasion of her privacy. For our conversation, is there any suitable topic having to do with our work? I come up with this and that, but any of them has already been talked about.

What kind of person was Jinro Kurita, my predecessor? How is he now? Is he alive or dead? If he is already dead, what was the cause of his death? And then, does it not have anything to do with me? Such questions have popped up one after another in my mind. But, none of them is realized into a verbally presented question.

Besides ...

Why do I want to know such things?

Is it just because I want to kill time ...?

Probably, that is what it is. That is what I think.

Jobs and women. Friends and life. Aircrafts and engines. Everything I do in my life is to kill time.

Until I die, I have to somehow cope with it.

Those who cannot do that are going to give up and die.

Whether you are an adult or a child, that is probably the same.

That has got to be the same, I think.

Of course, it is my imagination, though ...

I was once asked why I get on a fighter aircraft.

At the time, I replied that I did so to kill time.

That is a long time ago.

The one who asked me the question was my boss.

He disliked me.

He was an adult, and belonged to the generation that did not experience a war.

The way that we, children, feel can never be understood by adults.

We cannot be understood.

The more they try to understand us, the farther away we get from them.

Because we dislike to be understood.

So, trying to understand us itself is the proof that they do not understand us.

To be sure, we fight to kill time.

Still ...

I feel that it might be the essence of our ways of living.

Yes, I only feel so.

Is it wrong?

The manual from ancient times says that we should find a purpose of life.

That is because we get bored if we cannot find it.

In short, to kill time, we find a purpose of life.

In the end, nothing has changed since ancient times.

For leisure, for work, and for studying, they are all the same, I think.

We know that well because we live at our own paces matter-of-factly.

I am still a child.

At times, my right hand kills humans.

Instead of that.

I would probably let someone’s right hand kill me.

Until then.

In order to kill time.

I manage to continue to live.

As a child.

“Ms. Kusanagi, since when have you been assigned to the base?” I ask.

“Can you imagine how rude your question is?” She asks, as she keeps looking forward.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure what I mean ...” She smiles.

There is a joke: Do not ask a woman about her age. I have heard that before. I do not understand what is so funny about the joke, though.

We get on a highway on the way, which makes the engine sound slightly higher. Kusanagi says nothing. She seems to be enjoying driving. I do not dislike silence, either. I look sideways and enjoy viewing the scenery that is flowing from the front side to the back. The view instantly vanishes into the space behind, and that is different from what I experience in an aircraft. When cars ahead of us are approaching, my right hand instinctively moves. I am bewildered by that, and I myself feel it is funny. Kusanagi changes traffic lanes frequently and passes other cars one after another. Probably, her life to date must have been this way, I imagine.

We change the road from the highway to a toll road leading to a seashore resort. On our way, I see the sea to our left. Ahead of us, a peninsula is protruding into the sea. Blackish rocks are far below us. The side of the road opposite of the sea is a concrete-covered slope. The road is sloping upward leisurely.

We veer off to a path along the mountainside, and then turn to the left to a road that has a sign OFF LIMIMTS TO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONS. After driving another hundreds of meters into the deeper part, we have reached a gate. Two uniformed guards are standing there. It is the observatory of an affiliated company. Kusanagi shows the ID card, and drives the car into the gate.

The narrow road between cliffs on both sides continues for a while, and then we reach the higher ground. Two anti-aircraft cannons, camouflaged with green nets, are mounted in the holes bored in the ground. A long-wave antenna is connected to simple steel towers. Below the antenna, a wooden building like a cabin is standing solely. It is thickly painted white and looks like a toy.

Kusanagi parks the vehicle right in front of the cabin. About ten automobiles are lined up, a bit far away from the cabin. I guess those are the official parking lots. Half of them are trucks. There is no building except for the hut within the vicinity. If all the owners of the vehicles are in the cabin, it has got to be extremely crowded inside. Probably, most sections of the facility is buried underground.

A man appears at the entrance of the cabin. He is a sturdy gentleman in his 40s. He has not come out by chance, because he is looking at us without appearing to be surprised. The gate guards must have contacted him and he is getting outside to welcome us. There might be stairs leading to the underground in that cabin.

“Long time no see.” He greets us, while approaching us. We have just gotten out of the vehicle.

“Thank you for your welcoming us.” Kusanagi shakes hands with him. “You mean, you won’t have us inside, right?”

“I apologize. But, you know, recently, the authority has been getting stricter.”

“What do you mean?”

“The rule has gotten high and mighty. Too rigid.” The man smiles. Then, he gets back to his original facial expression, and looks at me. “By the way, I am Honda. You?”

“He is my subordinate.” Kusanagi first replies, while I do not say a word. “I bring him here because I want him to drive me on the way back.”

“How come?” Honda shows a suspicious look, and sees Kusanagi’s vehicle. “You have just come here by driving on your way, right?”

“I think I might exhaust my physical strength.” Kusanagi says. She looks up at the antenna. “Strange. At a glance, it doesn’t seem that it was damaged by a typhoon ... Anyway, I want you to have us get inside. Let me talk to the manager.”

“The manager is out now.” Honda says.

“I think I can make sure whether he is out or not if I enter his room.” Kusanagi speaks fast.

“Please, Ms. Kusanagi.” Honda sighs. “I will surely tell him. So, I mean, we well understand how important this matter is, for you are coming here. In short, I think we understand how you feel.”

“I have not come here to tell you how I feel. Make no mistake about that.” Kusanagi raises her chin. “I just want to see the face of the one who is trying to kill me. I want to ask if this is prohibited by the regulation.”

“You are going too far.” Honda smirks.

“You say that it was not done on purpose?”

“Definitely. What are you talking about?”

“I doubt it.” This time Kusanagi smiles. “All right. Anyway, I just enter the cabin.” She starts walking toward the cabin.

“Hey, wait.” Honda follows.

I do not know what to do. But, as a subordinate who is being appointed as her bodyguard, I cannot just walk out of this. That is what I think, at least. At the entrance of the cabin, Honda is grabbing Kusanagi’s arm. I get closer to them.

“Let go of me!” Kusanagi shakes off his hand by swinging her arm.

“I’m telling you this for your own sake.” Honda says in a low voice.

“Thank you, but I don’t need that.” She glances at me. “Kannami, wait here for me. I will be back in five minutes.”

“What if you don’t come back?”

“Go ahead and return to the base alone.”

Kusanagi disappears into the cabin. The door is shut, with a sound. Honda is left at the door, clucks his tongue, looks at me, and then shrugs.

“How childish.” He murmurs.

I think he is right.

“She has not grown up.” Honda looks away from me.

“Yeah ...” I glare at him and nod. Should I punch him? I think so for a moment. Honda looks at me. He finds something in my expression.

“Oh, sorry.” Honda nods a little and smiles artificially. It is a servile smile as if he wants to say, “Do not get so angry.”

-7-

I am waiting alone for Kusanagi while sitting on the step before the cabin. Honda has already gone back inside the cabin.

Kusanagi has not come back after five minutes have passed. When 10 minutes have passed, I stand up and walk around the cabin and complete a lap. The ground is graveled, and a human-sized concrete chimney that appears to be an exhaust vent is standing on the north side.

I wonder if Kusanagi is okay. Something bad might be happening. I think I am in the position to have to save her ... However, I am not commanded to do so. At least, I have not received any order since we arrived at this place. Still, when we left the base, she appointed me to be her bodyguard. What she meant to imply worries me. Was she joking, or was she being serious?

As I think about forcing my way into the cabin, I stand in front of the entrance door of the cabin. At the moment, Kusanagi comes out of the door. It takes me by surprise, and I jump back.

“Thank you for waiting.” Kusanagi is expressionless.

“Umm ...” It is so sudden for me that I cannot come up with what to say.

“Drive me on our way back.”

No one else comes outside. We tread the graveled ground, and walk to the vehicle. It is getting dark. Almost the entire ground is already covered with shadow. I get into the driver’s seat and start the engine.

“Shall we leave?” I ask my boss on the passenger seat.

“Yeah.” Kusanagi nods slightly. I cannot read her face because she is looking toward the opposite direction.

I turn the vehicle around, and drive toward the gate.

As we get out of the premises, the road in the dark forest is stretching forward. When we get back to the seashore, it is not so bright anymore. I see the silhouettes of the gliding birds riding on the ascending air currents around the precipice. I wonder if they are drying their wings like that before flying home to the nests. Even though the sky is still slightly bright, the road is very dark. I turn the headlights on. Airplanes do not have these. Shall I feel fortunate, or unlucky, about being in the situation in which we have something to shed lights on?

I occasionally pretend to use the rearview mirror to see what is behind the car, so that I can check out Kusanagi. She has her elbow stick out from the window and put her hand on her mouth. It looks as if she is biting her fingers. She is looking forward with no motion. Only her hair is slightly waving like smoke.

She looks neither angry nor happy. There is no emotion. She is turning off the switch of her emotion circuitry. That is just what it seems like. I have known that we belong to the same species. We are such kind of humans, and such type of children. However, we do not feel any glad about getting to meet our own kind. In short, it is meaningless.

The logic comes first, and then we utilize the logic to pretend to have emotions.

I have been doing so since I was younger.

If I do not do so, everyone becomes afraid of me. Both of my parents were afraid of me. So, I made efforts to pretend to look like a normal kid. I carefully observed the children around me. I learned that children laugh in particular situations, cry in another cases, get moody in that timing, and get coddled while occasionally observing others. I think that is a complete waste of time, but it seems that it is just such a big deal for adults.

If I can make everyone happy by doing so, I myself would have something to gain as well. Even so, such procedure of communication is unbelievably boring to me. That is complete uniformity. Repetition and repetition. The acme of boredom. Despite that, such a simple repetition satisfies my parents, my friends, and any other people. They are relieved. They repeat that I am a good boy. They pat me on my head, saying “How cute.” I simply protect my safety. I just construct my comfort zone. It is just convenient for me to lessen the friction with others.

I was special.

I came to know that.

When I learned of that, my parents left me. Everyone was afraid of me. Even though they insisted that I was the same, they were afraid of me. But, in the end, that was the case for me as well.

I thought I was afraid of myself.

I was afraid of my living.

However ...

By making a sigh once, I can overcome it.

Things have been made that way since the beginning.

Indeed ...

I have been chosen from the very start.

Then ... I have met a lot of the same kind of fellows. As I have spent time with them, I have reverted to a normal kid again.

My very being is normal in this place.

I can think that this is normal.

This is strange. I am impressed by how much other people in the same environment can affect me.

I have learned something here for the first time.

How much I am different from others.

How much many people are the same.

Anyway, I have regained the fixation to this society, and drastically attained the energy, (At least, on the surface from others’ points of view.) to the extent that I have continued to live like this.

As long as I keep on breathing, I will not die. Eat, sleep, wash the face, and brush the teeth. Just by repeating them, only by doing that, we can manage to live.

We can live without being able to tie shoelaces.

The only problem is for what purposes we live.

We have to choose whether to pray to God or to kill each other. It was the rule. I chose to fight and to fly. Why? Because I think that praying to God will eventually lead to the crisis of my mind, and praying will not get me closer to unlocking the secrets of life and death. In order to make sure that I am alive, I have to compare life with death. That is the way I think. Is it a luxury to suffer from such worries?

“For how long have you been a pilot?” Kusanagi asks me suddenly.

It is already getting dark, covered with navy blue.

Orange lights on the highway are lined up ahead of us. The color is beautiful enough to make me shudder.

“Five years.” I reply.

Kusanagi has to have already known that. She has my personal data.

But, people sometimes want to have conversation without a particular reason.

Now is probably the time for her, I suppose.

I gently hold the steering wheel again and check the speedometer. Although it is reading a little faster than the legal speed limit, it is still relatively slow, compared to those of other cars around us.

“Five years ...” Kusanagi utters.

“As my military personnel record indicates.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Haven’t you looked at it yet?”

“No.”

“It might be rare that a boss is not interested in the past history of a newly assigned subordinate.”

“Maybe. Do you see the reason for that?” She looks at me. I can feel it, even though I keep looking forward.

“It has to do with being a child.” I say.

“That’s right. Because of being a Kildren.” She nods.

“Since when?”

“14 years ago.”

I look sideways at her. Kusanagi does not look at me.

I imagine my thought is slipping out of my brain and is floating nearby like a flying moth. I shake off the imagination as if I swat the moth.

The glittering scales are scattered from the moth’s wings.

“Can I drive faster?” I ask.

“Yeah.” Kusanagi replies. “I won’t complain if I die.”

I step on the accelerator. The car accelerates, and slides onto the fast lane. I rapidly approach the car in front of us, and flash the headlights to command it to step aside. The engine pickup response is springy. It makes me feel comfortable. The brake might be relatively weak. The suspension is properly firm. The degree of the rolling movement is within my tolerance level. The pitching motion gets a passing grade.

I do not have to look back anymore. No one can catch up on us.

The high-pitched engine sound vanishes suddenly. I am beginning to wonder if I should die now. I am having an illusion that I am in a cockpit. The illusion that I am flying. I am holding a control stick now.

My right arm moves, and commands me to shoot.

The moth is on my right hand.

Whom do I shoot?

I bank to the left and drive through the curve.

The orange light bows like a dinosaur’s tail.

Someone is shooting at me.

Someone will shoot at me for me.

Only I am in the cockpit.

I am the only one.

The moth’s powdery scales are glittering.

“Kannami.” I hear Kusanagi’s voice.

Not through the radio.

I am not the only one.

There are two of us. There are two in the cockpit.

There is no coffin more special than this.

“Yes?” I reply.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Is it a question, or a warning?”

“A pure question.”

“I am in an aircraft. I won’t be able to go back to the base, for I have little fuel left in the tank. I’m falling into the sea.”

“Have you ever had such an experience?”

“Even so, the sky is painted in prime purple, and the clouds are shining in the moonlight. The sea below me has got to be marvelous.”

“What did you do at the time?”

“I made an emergency landing on the sea. As I expected, it was marvelous.”

“And then?”

“I was floating.”

“You were eventually rescued, correct?”

“I was floating until dawn.”

“That could actually happen, eh? Was it a Sanka?”

I nod.

I relax my right foot that was stepping on the accelerator, to decelerate the car. No car is around us anymore. The engine sound becomes unbelievably quiet. It is as if I were diving into the sea after running out of the fuel.

“I did not open the cockpit.” I explain it to Kusanagi. “That is the reason why the aircraft did not sink.”

“Oh ...” Kusanagi nods affirmatively. “It cannot be found in the manual. Even the aircraft designer might have not even thought about it. Did you report it to the authority appropriately?”

I nod.

“Why did you not open the cockpit?”

I am recalling the moment.

The tightly sealed clear acrylic canopy.

Around my feet was the sea water.

Waves of long periods.

I was viewing the panoramic night sky all night long.

The aircraft was rocking on the waves like a cradle.

Yes, I am a child.

Then, this is a coffin.

I am reminded of the sad feelings for the first time since a long time ago, and water is running down from my eyes. It is so unusual that I find myself laughing.

Why did I not open the cockpit?

Probably, I want to be encased in something, even when I am dying.

The same way as when I was born.

Such style of dying is what I admire.