Episode 5: Spoiler

Episode 5: Spoiler

This is the squalid, or moving, part of the story, and the scene changes. The people change, too. I’m still around, but from here on it, for reasons I’m not at liberty to disclose, I’ve disguised myself so cunningly that even the cleverest reader will fail to recognize me.

This excerpt is from For Esmé—with Love and Squalor, a short story included in Nine Stories (written by J. D. Salinger)

-1-

After that, we, three Someakas and three Sankas, made sorties twice. They were both missions to escort our bombers. We have managed to return to the base alive without any trouble. During the time, we flew six times in total, including scouting missions. These things happened within two weeks, so I can say that we were being relatively busy.

Then, suddenly, we are commanded to return to the previous base. This directive is making both Tokino and Shinoda happy. I am feeling a little glad, too. Other than finding the place to bowl and the good restaurant nearby, we have not quite been able to become familiar with this city. I have not gotten on the tram, and I have given up on it. Suito Kusanagi is in a good mood, too. I guess that the children’s party is scheduled to be held again in the near future.

However, although we have not been informed of it until right before moving out of the base, our team is not the only one leaving this base. The three subordinates of Yamagiwa are joining us. I mean, Midori Mitsuya, Aragi Koime, and Saiga Koime. It appears that Yamagiwa is returning to the headquarters. That is virtually equivalent to being promoted to the higher rank. It is a mysterious appointment, because he has lost two of his subordinates.

It is a fine day, when we are flying to the base, at which Sasakura is waiting.

Beside the six fighter aircrafts, like the way it was during the arrival to this base, Yamagiwa and Kusanagi are on board Senryu. According to what I have heard, Yamagiwa has insisted that seeing her off despite making a bit of detour is his duty even though Kusanagi was not too crazy about the idea. Since I heard it from Tokino, I am not too sure about the integrity of the information.

Although I have hardly been conscious of it, the base which we had been stationed to before we moved to the most recent base is known as Urisu. I usually do not remember proper nouns. I even forget people’s names very easily. For example, I do not remember the name of that waitress in the drive-in diner anymore. Same is true for place names. When I live in one place, I start remembering the name after about half a year has passed. On the other hand, when I get used to the life in the new environment, I just forget the name. After leaving the place, I just cannot recall it at all. I do not feel the necessity of connecting people and lands to the characters that describe their names. If someone is in front of me, I do not need his or her name. If a person is not in front of me, I do not talk about the one. In short, in either case, I do not have the opportunity to use someone’s names anyway.

But this time, I have left one place once, and am now returning to the place where I had not thought I would go back to. This is an unusual event in my life. I have never experienced anything like this. It is rare for any person to get reunited with someone who has once parted ways. Well, I can firmly state that such a reunion never occurs, not even once. I am actually coming back to this place that I had been to before, and, as a consequence, I am suddenly starting to care about the land and to pay attention to its name.

On the Urisu base, we land, taking turns. Huge holes beside the runway, which were punched by the bombing we experienced in the past, are already filled. The restoration processes seem to have been completed. To my surprise, the outer wall of the hangar has been painted in green and looks amazingly beautiful. During the period in which our aircrafts were absent, the crews must have needed to kill time. The busier, the messier. The more abundant the free time, the neater and cleaner it gets. I can say it is a universally applicable rule.

I and Tokino are back to the same room again. As I leave my belongings in the room and go to see Sasakura, he just raises his hand once with the welding goggles on. Nothing has changed. I hear something, look outside the shutter, and find Senryu taking off just at the moment. I see Yamagiwa is leaving and going back to the base alone.

Shinoda is moving into the billet we are in. The room which he and Yudagawa had been using seems to be moved into by the Koime brothers. Then, Midori Mitsuya is assigned to the room adjacent to Kusanagi’s office. It is a special treatment of privilege. I have only two requests for her. One is that I would like her not to gather children from the neighbors. The other is that I would like her to get stationary rides that can be operated by inserting coins. I do not care about what type of rides they are. Of course, these two requests are stored only in my mind.

Since then, we have not flown for about three days.

Sasakura is checking Someakas all the time and does not seem to sleep even at night. Their engines are still new, and according to him, “They haven’t exerted their full powers.” I guess that he finds such imperfections to be unbearable and attractive at the same time, like scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

After one week has passed, the two aircrafts piloted by Midori Mitsuya and I went flying for scouting. Kusanagi decided to let us team up with each other, because pairing Someaka with Sanka can enlarge the range of combative versatility and adds the extra luxury on us. But, unfortunately, this time around, I did not get to experience the chance to observe Mitsuya’s skills and Someaka’s functionality in the close distance.

Come to think of it, on this day, I got to talk to her for the first time since we came back to Urisu. Still, we had only one verbal exchange through the radio, “Let’s go back.” and “Roger.” I do not even remember which one of us started the exchange first and which one replied.

Mitsuya is docile and taciturn. Her issuing a warning-like statement to Tokino and me for getting on the stationary rides designed after a fire engine and a helicopter has left a strong impression on me. Looking back, it was probably a rare case. Maybe, she was getting drunk at the time.

When we get back to the base after two hours’ flight, the two aircrafts of Tokino and Ayaga Koime have already left the base for making a sortie of another mission.

After Tokino comes back, he will invite me to go out tonight. That is definitely for sure. I recall the meat pie of the drive-in diner, Kusumi, and Fuko. I do not exactly want to meet any one of the three in particular. Even though, I have not visited the place since I came back to Urisu, I do not have any special feelings about that. But if they actually appear in front of me, both the meat pie and the girls would not give me any negative feelings. Like the moment at which I flip a playing card, I might enjoy them during the short moment in which I recognize what they are.

I taxi the aircraft from the runway to the hangar, park it at the designated location, and turn off the ignition. However, Mitsuya’s Someaka is following me along the same course. She parks her aircraft right next to mine.

From the hangar, Sasakura is stepping out with a grin.

“Why?” I ask Sasakura, while pointing at the Someaka behind me with my thumb.

“She made a deal to bring it here.” Sasakura explains, while thrusting his both hands into the pockets of his jumpsuit. He is looking restless.

Mitsuya gets out of the aircraft, and walks toward us.

“Oh, hi ...” Sasakura bows his head slightly.

“I leave it to you.” She says mechanically without changing her expression.

We leave Sasakura behind, and walk to the office abreast.

“Then, how do you like this place?” I ask, while lighting a cigarette.

“Umm, so-so.” Mitsuya answers.

“Are you getting along with Ms. Kusanagi?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well ...” I raise the edge of my lips and shake my head. “Nothing in particular. It is like, ‘How are you doing?’”

“Thank you.” She shows a smile in an instant and wipes it off her face quickly. “I’m dissatisfied with nothing. If possible, I just want to produce results as soon as possible.”

“You need not hurry.”

“You are right. We have as much time as we like.” She nods. “Is that what you believe?”

We have just reached the office, and I open the door.

“I will go upstairs after the cigarette gets shorter.” I tell that to her, and head for the lounge.

Mitsuya is running upstairs alone. I am by the window in the lounge, enjoy the view of the runway, and smoke the rest of the cigarette. I see Sasakura and others towing aircrafts in front of the hangar. I put out the cigarette, sigh by exhaling the remaining smoke, and head for the stairway. I hear a door being closed and someone climbing down the stairs. Mitsuya is coming this way.

“Oh? Was Ms. Kusanagi not there?”

“Well, we are done with the reporting session.” Mitsuya flips her palms upward. “Besides, the telephone started ringing ...”

“Did she say that I do not have to go to the office to report the situation?”

“Yes.”

“That’s nice.” I show my smile. “But I am suffering from a loss because I put out the cigarette in haste.”

I walk to the fridge and open its door.

“Would you like to drink something?” I ask her.

“I don’t drink alcohol.”

“How about fizzy drink?”

“If there is soda.”

“There are.” I pick up two bottles of soda. “If you make requests for your favorite drinks, they will stock the drinks.”

“I know that, of course.”

“Yeah, I think you know that.” I hand a cold bottle to her.

“Thank you.” She nods with no expression, and sits on a vinyl seat. At a glance, her facial expression looks to be nervous, but it is usual for her. It is the default setting of her behavior. She crosses her legs and twists off the cap of the bottle.

“Ms. Kusanagi might be unordinary, don’t you think?” After the first sip, she asks.

“I’m not sure.” I snort. Although I have not thought she is eccentric, it might be just because I do not know people who are not eccentric too well. “Do you dislike her?”

“No.” Mitsuya smiles uncharacteristically. “Since you might be the most trustworthy person here, I am telling you this ...” She lowers her tone and makes her face look serious. “In fact, Ms. Kusanagi is the one who was scheduled to be transferred to the headquarters.”

“Who told you that?” I feel surprised in my mind.

“Of course, Mr. Yamagiwa did. Who else? He said Ms. Kusanagi declined the offer, and recommended him instead. She seems to have made clear that she does not want to leave the battlefront.”

“Really ...” I nod slightly.

“But ... The true reason is you, isn’t it?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Umm, but, I’m not interested in such topics.” Mitsuya sits back against the seat and crosses her arms. “It is just that, her ideology catches my attention.”

“Ideology? Ms. Kusanagi’s?”

“Kildren, who live forever.” Mitsuya says, while glaring at me sideways. “I was told about it at night before yesterday.”

I am staying silent.

I try to recall what I did at night before yesterday, without any success.

“I also heard about your predecessor.” Mitsuya sighs, and puts her head on the back of the seat. It is a posture like she is looking up at the ceiling. It also looks as if she were begging me, Choke my neck.

“Exactly, what was it about?” I ask, while keeping my voice calm.

“Ms. Kusanagi said she killed him.” Still looking upward, Mitsuya whispers. “Quite a delusion.”

“Delusion?”

“You know that, don’t you?” Mitsuya raises her head and turns her face toward me. She is now looking straight at me.

“If I am told so, I feel I might know that.”

“You are evading the question ...” She sniggers.

“Do you believe that?”

“Believe what?”

“I mean, about the information pertaining to Ms. Kusanagi killing Jinro Kurita.”

“Oh, that’s the guy’s name.” Mitsuya shows her teeth and smiles. “How absurd.”

“That is true.” I say.

She stops laughing and applies the bottle on her lips. Her eyes are still fixed on me. I look back at her, and sip the soda.

Delusion ...

I wonder if it makes a busy noise like carbonic bubbles.

I wonder if it brings to me the sweet fragrance of the childhood.

It resembles the sound of rain and that of waves.

It resembles the vibration of the wings turning around above a gray ocean.

I keep silent.

Mitsuya’s smile does not come back anymore. Only the pair of serious, cold eyes is riveted to me while moving subtly.

“Are you sane?” The words overflow from her mouth.

Sane ...

Is it about the grip of my right hand holding the control stick?

“You must be able to understand that, because you are a Kildren, too.”

“I’m not.”

“Really?”

“I’m ...”

“At times, there are those who try to think so and end up believing so. It is like an occupational disease, and nobody cares about it.”

“I’m ...”

“I’ll give you good information.” I approach her.

“No, please don’t ...” Mitsuya shakes her head, as if she is about to burst into tears. “Sorry. I was wrong. I admit I was wrong. So, do not say it, please.”

“Okay.” I assume a pose to hold my arms up, and back off from her. I take the bottle from the table and sip the soda. I pick up a cigarette from the pocket and hold it in my mouth. While looking for a lighter, I look at her. She is not shedding tears, and I feel relieved. “How do you feel? Can you not trust me anymore?”

“Yes, I trust you.” Mitsuya nods. She stands up. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Umm ...”

The soda on the table is still generating small bubbles. More than half of it is left.

I light the cigarette and inhale the smoke.

“If possible, tonight ... I wonder if we can talk a little more?”

“Is it a request?”

“Request.”

“Alright.” I exhale the smoke and nod. “Tokino would probably go out after coming back here. But I’ll stay.”

“Thank you.” Mitsuya nods.

“Why can we not talk now?”

“Sorry. No, I can’t, err ...” She closes her eyes and looks upward. “For some reason, I cannot talk now. I will be thinking and make it definitely clear.”

“Clear?”

“My mind. I mean, I will recover my composure.”

“Hum.” I nod. “If you can do that, I envy you.”

Mitsuya gets out of the lounge and climbs up the stairs. Her room is on the second floor in this building, I finally recall it. In other words, she has bothered to climb down to the lounge.

I inhale the smoke and exhale it.

The creaking sound of metal is echoing in my head.

Many wild dogs are barking loudly.

Can she block out such things?

Clear mind ...

What kind of power is it? I think so while looking at the ceiling.

-2-

Tokino has come back in the evening. When he is done with taking a shower, I am lying down on the bed and am reading a magazine.

“We are going out, Kannami.”

“Okay.” I reply. “Are you going to Kusumi’s place?”

“Yeah.”

“Say hello to her.”

“What?” Tokino looks back. “You are not coming?”

“No, I will refrain myself from going out tonight.”

“How come?”

“Umm ... No reason in particular.”

Tokino gets close to me, and looks into my face.

“It’s getting dark.” I say.

“It is dark from the start.” He sighs and retreats to the center of the room. “I can give you my space, if you want to read in bed. The top of the bunk bed is so bright that I have hard time trying to go to sleep.”

“I like it here.”

“Your eyesight will deteriorate.”

“It won’t.” I crack up. “I have gotten used to it.”

“I wonder who it is?” Tokino says, as he puts his head through a shirt.

“What?”

“The person who is scheduled to meet with Kannami tonight.”

“Probably ...” I reply, while reading the magazine. “Not an accountant. Not a first mate. Not a jazz singer, either.”

“It is Ms. Kusanagi, right?”

“Wrong ...”

Silence.

I look at Tokino. He is sitting at the desk and is about to light a cigarette. Usually, before he does that, he would have opened a can of beer. In short, he is subtly different from his usual self.

“You want to drink beer as soon as possible.” I say so, instead of him. “Isn’t it right?”

“I appreciate your pointing that out.” Tokino exhales the smoke and smiles. “Are you getting along with Ms. Kusanagi? I’m not positively impressed with your action.”

“You are not guessing right. But, why do you say that?”

“I advise you to reconsider what you are doing to the best of your ability, if it is still possible for you. I’m not willing to beg you. But, this is the best faith possible that I can show you as your friend.”

“You are misunderstanding this ...” I give up on reading the magazine. “Bye-bye. Say hello to Fuko, too.”

“Please do not say ...” Tokino exhales the smoke. “The person is not Ms. Mitsuya, is she?”

“Bye-bye.”

“Hey, hey.” Tokino laughs. “You may want to rethink and reconsider nothing but that. I’m not giving you bad advice.”

“Excuse me ...” I stand up. “I want you not to say anything within your scale of thoughts. From the beginning, you have been missing the point.”

“Umm, you think so?” Tokino warps his lips. “Well, alright. That would be okay if you hear it as a general opinion. Stay calm, please ...”

“Then, I will ask you this as a general opinion.” As I am fortifying myself with the calmness that is decorated with a sigh and a smile, I show a dumbfounded face that looks like papier-mâché. “Specifically, what points of Ms. Kusanagi and Ms. Mitsuya are dangerous? Is it an absolute evaluation?”

“There is no such thing as an absolute evaluation in this world.”

“Then, what is your opinion based on?”

“Well, the averaged out values of my life experience.”

“Do you compare them with the lives of Kusumi and Fuko?”

“That’s right.” Tokino nods. “You can think that way all you want. That’s what it is. It is obvious, isn’t it? What would happen if you sleep with Ms. Kusanagi?” As if he has just shot an invisible basketball, he snaps both of his wrists. “That is the thing ... You will be killed someday.”

“You mean it literally?” I ask, laughing.

“Literal meaning, of course. More specifically, you will be shot in your head. Then, goodbye.”

“Hmm ...” I lean my head. “Then, how about Ms. Mitsuya?”

“Probably, you cannot escape from it. Like a doodlebug.”

“You ... do not mean it literally, do you?”

“Nope.” Tokino laughs, too. “It would be amazing if it were meant literally. Not that. Umm, I don’t know how to put it. You might be cornered into an inconvenient situation ... Anyway, you wouldn’t be able to make your move freely. It is what I mean to say.”

“Inconvenient, eh?” I nod.

I can immediately understand what Tokino is imagining. Even though it is too straightforward, I feel it is a keen insight that is so characteristic of him.

Tokino becomes silent.

“Anything else?” I ask.

“I have already said it.”

“I understand.” I nod and sigh softly.

“What do you understand?”

“The thoughts and the policy of Tokino.”

“I didn’t speak of it to have you understand me.”

“Okay ... We should stop it, then.”

Tokino stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray on the desk.

“I agree.” He stands up.

“The escape maneuver.” I slightly salute with one hand.

“Yeah ... Then ..., anyway, be careful tonight.”

“Same to you.” I smile.

-3-

I am coming to the hangar, for I am attracted to the light. I walk under the shutter, which is raised by about one meter, and recognize a Sanka and a Someaka at the back of the hangar. Two mechanics are sitting under the fuselage of the Someaka to work. It is Mitsuya’s aircraft. The spotlight is bright. I walk closer to it. The two are the mechanics who are usually not assigned to work in this hangar. They are dispatched here because that particular aircraft is also transferred here.

“Where is Mr. Sasakura?” I ask.

“He is probably in the basement.” One of them replies.

“Is he sleeping?”

“Umm, I’m not sure.”

“I have just been thinking about going to bed.” I hear the voice from behind.

Looking back, I find Sasakura appearing from beside the toolbox. He seems to have just climbed up the stairs. “Do you need any help?”

“No.” I say while walking toward him. “I just want to hear from you about the latest situation of your work.”

“The latest situation? Oh ...” Sasakura nods. Then, he suddenly lowers the voice and whispers. “You mean, about the air intake charger?”

“That’s right. How’s it going? Do you think it is working well now?”

“No, I haven’t been able to make steps forward since then.”

While we were absent, he did not have to repair aircrafts. Has he not had enough time, I wonder.

“Come with me.” He leans his head sideways and makes signs with his eyes.

I follow him, and go outside. Sasakura lights a cigarette. The air temperature seems to be very low. The runway is so dark that I can easily visualize an illusion of a pond. I feel I can even hear fish making splashes.

“Actually, I have been developing another thing.” When we come to the point which the light cannot reach anymore, Sasakura confesses. I can hardly see his facial expression.

“Oh ..., what is it?”

“A new engine.”

“What type?”

“You know jet engines, don’t you?”

“Yes, a little bit.”

It is a propulsive system that was developed in Europe during the war 50 years ago. Like a rocket engine, it gets the propulsion power by blasting gas backward. However, its energy efficiency was extremely bad. Many problems popped up because of the lack of durability of parts that were exposed to high temperature. Also, it was difficult to control. Due to these factors, the very thought of the practical applications of the system was abandoned decades ago.

“They failed because they tried to copy rocket engines.” Sasakura says. “That is not what they should have done. It should be the extension of reciprocating engines. The concept that I have in my mind is like a radial multi-cylinder engine. Let me put it another way. If you keep on increasing the number of vertices of the polygon, the shape becomes closer to a circle. That way, the continuation of the small explosions around the engine will create a rotational motion.”

“You are not talking about rotating a propeller, are you?”

“No, we need not a propeller. Only fans are rotating. They forcefully intake the air and it is compressed even more. The propulsion is created with the generation of the exhaust pressure.”

“Then, after all, it is a type of jet engine, isn’t it?” I snort. He might be thinking that I am sniggering. “But, I am wondering if it is a technology that has been evaluated and tried.”

“No, there is a difference between today and 50 years ago about the standard of accuracy demanded on machinery engineering. Moreover, technologies for both heat-resistant alloy and heat-resistant surface treatment have remarkably improved. Honestly, I wonder why no one even tries my method.

“Hmm.” I pick up a cigarette and light it. “Do you think it will work well?”

“Definitely.”

“So, are you thinking of providing the proposal for your mechanical design to the boss?”

“I already have, to Ms. Kusanagi.”

“How was it?”

“That woman can never understand. Moreover, I’m not sure whether our company needs a new engine or not. I guess they don’t want to pay too much budget for development. The current situation must be good enough for the company.”

“Well, you might be right.” I nod. I understand well what Sasakura wants to say. “If we have the overwhelmingly advantageous edge in militaristic powers, then it will lead to the early termination of the war. It will endanger the corporate affairs of our company.”

“That’s right.” The tip of Sasakura’s cigarette is turning red. “And probably, I think the new type of engine will not be very suitable for a fighter aircraft. Since the revolution is very high, its response is ..., you know what I mean? It is designed to be even more effective, if it is loaded on a big aircraft flying at a stable, slow speed.”

“I know your character. You have already tried to produce the prototype, haven’t you?”

“I made a prototype of a scale-down model. But, I failed miserably.”

“It doesn’t work well, you are saying?”

“No, it doesn’t. The small size is not good. Because of the problem involving the Reynolds number, the smaller size leads to the rise of far more difficult issues. But that was not a waste of time. I learned various things, and obtained the data to be used for the design. The principle is simple. Once I can find out the solutions to the accuracy and the durability of the blades, we can declare that we have cleared the obstacles of technical problems.”

“I don’t understand too well what you are explaining ..., but that sounds interesting.”

“For some reason, Ms. Kusanagi has not been herself since she came back here. Don’t you think so?” Sasakura says. I am hearing the unexpected turn of the topic so suddenly that I am surprised.

“You think so? In what way?”

“Somewhat cold and distant.”

“She has always been like that.” I laugh. “For once, has she ever been friendly in the past?”

I am looking at the office building. Then, I see the door being opened and someone getting out to the courtyard. It is very far away. But it has got to be Midori Mitsuya.

“Well ..., I’ve gotta go.”

“Are you going out somewhere?” Sasakura asks.

“No, I will go nowhere ...” I start walking. “I have a book that I want to read.”

“But you can deal with it at any time, can’t you?” Sasakura says.

“That is the case for everything, isn’t it?” I reply.

“Kannami.”

“What?” I stop and look back.

“Can you talk to Ms. Kusanagi, just in case? I mean ... you know, about that.”

“About the engine?”

“Yes.”

“But, she already knows it, doesn’t she?”

“Well, but I think she doesn’t understand what it really means.”

“Neither do I. I cannot explain it at all.”

“There is a difference between Kannami saying it and I saying it.”

“How are they different?”

“I’m not a pilot.” Sasakura is staring at me. I can see that he is telling a lie.

Still, I can understand his reason.

I see ...

He thinks I and Kusanagi are getting acquainted with each other.

Tokino, too, is misunderstanding something.

What ridiculous bunch of people they are, I think.

“Okay. I will talk to her.” I nod anyway, because it is getting bothersome. But it is obvious I cannot do anything for him about that. I feel bad as if I have just swallowed air. “What do you need for the revolutionary engine? Budget? Or, time?”

“Understanding.” Sasakura answers.

It is natural. But it would be the only thing he cannot get. Nothing is more valuable and harder to get than understanding. We always get it, by the time we completely do not need it anymore.

I am walking on a lane with iron railings that runs along the runway. I return to the billet in haste. The office’s window on the second floor is lit, and it is indicating that Kusanagi is still there.

Sasakura’s request is very realistic.

His request always has a shape and exists nearby.

It is in a place that is within the reach.

I envy that.

Compared to that.

What in the world is it that I want?

Pleasures for my life?

Or, the leeway to spare?

I don’t know.

But ...

I can say it is anything but understanding.

Nothing is slimier and more awkward than being understood. I dislike it. I have lived my life, while refusing to be understood, as much as possible.

And, probably ...

The same is the case for Kusanagi.

Additionally, same for Tokino. Such type of character is suitable for being a pilot. The feeling that we do not want to be understood is a driving force to allow us to ascend to the higher sky.

I can fall anytime.

I can die anytime.

With the resistance, we cannot fly.

Maybe, Sasakura would never understand that. He has the duty to boost us up. He is a person who plants his feet on the ground. Do we care or not about coming back to the same place again when taking off from the runway? I do not care about such a miracle. When flying above the clouds and viewing the stars in the heavens, I can forget about the things that lie in the future. I can exchange my whole life with leaving the ground, or with the distance from the ground. I never doubt the outrageousness. The important point is whether we have such spirits of children or not.

Obviously, Sasakura is right. He is right, as a human.

We are wrong. We are wrong, as humans.

But, I can say one thing.

Even if we are wrong, we still live.

We are flying while being wrong.

In short, flying is being wrong.

He wouldn’t understand that.

Probably, no one would understand that.

Then.

I do not want anyone to understand that.

I open the door and enter the hall of the billet. It is a door that lets out a beautiful scream like a damsel in distress tied to a railroad track. As I climb up the stairs, I notice that my cigarette is becoming too short. I throw it away into an ash tray at the corner of the corridor.

I wonder if Tokino is now meeting Kusumi. On the straight road to the drive-in diner, his motorbike is running. No fog. I do not know why the scenery comes up in my mind.

I have a bad feeling.

To begin with, I have never experienced a night with no bad feeling.

-4-

In front of the room, Midori Mitsuya is standing with her arms crossed. As I walk toward her, she lets her back leave the wall and unfolds her arms.

“I’m relieved.” Mitsuya says. “I thought you went out.”

“Oh, you think I’m that type of guy, eh?”

“Yeah ..., I was just beginning to think so.” Mitsuya combs her front hair with her hand, and gives her lips a slant.

I open the door, enter the room, and offer her a chair by the desk.

“Would you like coffee? By the way, there is no other drink here.”

“Coffee, please.”

I start making it. I would be lucky if she first talks, I think. But, what she says during the span of three minutes is just, “How is Mr. Tokino?” My only reply is, “His bed is the top of this bunk bed.”

I put a filled coffee cup on the desk in front of her, and sit on a chair by Tokino’s desk. There is about three meters of distance between she and me. Although I think the distance is too large for two person’s conversation, it is a relatively suitable range if I were to shoot a gun at her.

“So?” I ask after sipping my coffee.

“Yeah ...” Mitsuya nods slightly.

“Have you made your mind clear?”

“Yes.” She smiles. She has her eyes directed upward, and looks at the ceiling. “But, maybe, I cannot talk about it well.”

“It is not that I am paying money, so I won’t make a complaint.”

“Thank you. Well, err ... Right.” After sighing, she looks at me as if she has finally made up her mind. “Of course, I’m here to talk to you.”

“Go ahead, please.”

“Mr. Kannami, how long have you been dispatched here?”

“Umm, eight days, I think.”

“No, that is not what I meant. I mean, about the period when you were here before. When were you assigned here?”

“About the end of last summer.”

“Where were you before that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I shake my head just once without changing my expression.

“How much of your flight time have you accumulated? How many years?”

“Are you coming here to talk about such a thing?” I sip coffee.

“No ... Well, I think I understand you Kildren. But, I still feel that it is mysterious. Only the ephemeral past and the eternal future. How can you deal with the imbalance? Or, how can you interpret it? That is what I want to ask you.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Do you know that ‘Kildren’ was originally a trade name of our company’s product? In the middle of developing a genetic control agent, you and others were born suddenly. The term that was scheduled to be used for the product name became the name of the ones such as you.”

“You mean that we are different from you, don’t you?”

“Well, hold on, please ... About the topic.” Mitsuya closes her eyes and has her hand on her eyelid. “Kildren like you never age. They live forever. In the beginning, no one knew the fact. Those who happened to know the fact would not believe it. However, there was no way that they would not notice the anomaly. Some of them were convinced that they were the only ones suffering from the abnormal condition, and experienced the spiritual collapse. Of course, there were many cases in which the bodies rejected the acceptance of the phenomena. Still, about 10 percent of them adapted themselves to the situation, and survived. They are real ...”

“Perfect survivors.” I speak.

“Correct ... The survivors are the ones like you. So is Ms. Kusanagi. Rather, so are almost all of the people who do business in the war zone, like this. It is the big difference from the great war of 50 years ago.”

“Oh, you seem to know such an ancient history.”

“People in this country used to hunt fish and whales in the sea, to eat them as food. Then, they were accused by other countries around the world for doing it. However, on the other hand, feeding edible pigs and cows is a common practice widely shared by people around the world. To put it another way, the difference between them is that one is naturally provided and the other is cultured for eating. What do you think about this notion of the difference?”

“Ridiculous.”

“People who were born naturally must not kill others, whereas people who were artificially created for the purpose of fighting are allowed to do so. You call this a logic?”

“You must have been reading weird books.”

“I have done a lot of researches.” Mitsuya crosses her legs. She seems to be gradually regaining her confidence. It is as if drugs are beginning to work wonders on her. “Only about 20 years have passed since Kildren were created. At first, no one noticed it. But the rumor has been spreading little by little. They say, ‘There are those who never die unless they are killed in combat.’”

“Might they die from diseases?”

“We can ignore the number, if we take the modern medical science into account.” Mitsuya shrugs, and attempts to smile. “Maybe, in the first phase of the selection process, with only 10 percent survival rate, the strongest specimens have managed to emerge standing. But, I don’t give a darn about that. I just ... What I just want to know is how Kildren like you can deal with yourselves. That is the issue. How can you compare the repetitive present with the time from the past? Although it is my imagination, your ability to become very forgetful and to carry the vague feelings as if you were dreaming, is contributing in protecting your minds. The things that happened yesterday, last month, and last year. There is no difference between them. You feel they are all the same. You alter things that occurred in the past with what you see in your dream. Isn’t that right?”

“If you are talking about me, then it is almost correct.” I am gazing into the black surface in my coffee cup. Like the sea, this small world actually has a spherical surface. The center of the surface is elevated. A part of my brain, which is changing intermittently, is thinking about such a thing. “But it is the original of what I am. That’s the way it is. I have been like that since I was born. I have been this way since my childhood. I was always absent-minded. My mother often told me that she could not tell if I was awake or sleeping. I myself am not sure of what I was doing.”

“Whom do you think we are fighting against?”

“I have no idea ...” I am still looking at my coffee. “I have never thought about it. Why don’t you ask a banker the same question? Whom are you fighting against? A rival bank? Or, depositors? Or, the world economy?”

“Even though we are killing each other, we don’t know the opponents.” The pitch of Mitsuya’s voice goes up higher slightly.

“Killing each other?” I raise my head. “I think every business goes in the same way. Those who beat the opponents and make profits are the winners. Compared to normal businesses, what we are playing is an inefficient, retrospective game.”

“In a game, we can kill enemies legally. Is it because you get the chance to be killed legally?”

“Yeah, that’s an interesting perspective.” I pick up a cigarette.

“Fighting always exists in any era, without disappearing completely. It is because the reality of the fighting has always been important for human beings. The reality in which someone is now fighting somewhere in the same era has been the indispensable factor in the system of the human society. It definitely cannot be created from lies. We cannot keep our peace without seeing the broadcasts of the actually dying people and their misery. Rather, we cannot even recognize the meaning of peace. When one tries to make others believe that wars are definitely terrible, despite not knowing jack about wars, telling just old stories in textbooks is not enough. So, private enterprises like our company do the dirty works.”

“How rational.” I chuckle. “By the way ..., how do you define yourself?”

“Hold on, please ...” Mitsuya opens her hand and moves it forward. “Sorry. Anyway, let me put it in the shelf for now. I want you to listen to me, without it. Please wait, a little more while. I mean ... I have yet to talk about Ms. Kusanagi. The most important part which I want you to listen to is about her.”

I light a cigarette. The lighter makes a slight sound and a small flame. What is holding it is my left hand. My right hand is quiet now. I wonder if it is sleeping.

“That woman gave birth to a baby.” Mitsuya says.

She shuts her mouth at the moment.

Of course, she is speaking of Mizuki Kusanagi.

“So?” I ask.

“It was a baby born from a Kildren.”

“So?”

“Don’t you get it?”

“I don’t get it.” I generate a forced smile.

“Ms. Kusanagi is, no matter how positively I put it, not normal anymore. She is a wreck. I wonder why the management does not make notice of it. They must know the issue about her kid ...”

“In my opinion, I think she deals with her work rather normally.”

“You think so ...? Even if she killed her subordinate?”

“It is the information I don’t know.” I exhale the smoke, and stare at her. “Are you talking about Jinro Kurita?”

“Yes. I only heard it from someone.”

“Who told you?”

“Mr. Yamagiwa.”

“I remember what you said this afternoon ...” I am still staring at her. She looks a little frightened. “You said it was Ms. Kusanagi’s delusion. However, you are now saying the opposite thing.”

“That is what I said, because I thought so.”

“How do you think about it now?”

“Now I mean it is my delusion.”

“Oh, you mean ... At least, you have the self-awareness.”

“If I’m aware of it, then what?”

“You’re not insane.”

“Just a delusion?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I don’t know, either ...” Mitsuya looks downward, and shuts her mouth.

She is slowly lifting her both hands.

After seeing them, she hides her face with them.

She starts crying.

What shall I do? I think.

Things are going as I have expected. She is coming here to cry. After being prepared to cry clearly, she is coming to see me.

I should have declined it in the first place.

Tokino might have been right about what he said.

“I’m not sure ...” She shakes her head. She lets her shoulders shiver, and is breathing intermittently. She puts one hand on her forehead and the other on her knee. Then, she turns her tearful and vague eyes to me. “I wonder if I myself am a Kildren. What I have just talked to you about itself might be what I have dreamed. Is it a true event? Or, is it just an artificial memory embedded in my cells? You know ... somehow, I feel everything is fragmentary. I cannot recognize them as continuous memories. I don’t have a definite evidence that I myself have experienced them. There is no tangible feeling. I mean ... The very thought that only I am not a Kildren is too convenient, isn’t it? Since when have I been a pilot? Since when have I been killing other humans? I think every night why on Earth, when, where, I have lost my way and have wandered into this dead end. I don’t remember. I cannot recall anything. No matter how hard I try, I can only recall the limited memories of my childhood in the limited situations and the moments ...”

“You seem to love playing with children.”

“Yes ... but I just offered a place and helped the volunteers at the previous airbase, because I came to know them by chance ... I love watching children. I wish I could have had my own childhood. I mean, perhaps ... I might have been born as I am now. Only by thinking that I might have never grown up, I feel that I have lost the sense of standing on the ground ... Don’t you think that way? Don’t you feel any anxiety?”

“It is like the feeling that we experience when we are flying with our aircrafts.” I smile.

“Ms. Kusanagi shot the one named Kurita ... I guess, probably ... It was her way of showing her love, to terminate his life for him.”

Mitsuya looks at me.

Maybe, it seems to be the most important point that she has been wanting to state.

Because her eyes are looking like those being expressed right after shooting a machine gun.

I am thinking of advising her that following her bullet trajectory with her eyes is a very dangerous act. If she does that, she should leave the zone soon. Looking back, looking upward, and looking downward more thoroughly is crucial. She has to move on to the next phase of the maneuver as soon as possible. The momentary standstill is the most likely timing to be the prime target. It is the moment when the motion of a pilot is delayed most. It is the most defenseless moment for humans.

I do not shoot her.

I will overlook her, I think.

I am not sure why I think so.

My right hand is calm today.

What’s wrong?

“But, Mr. Kurita didn’t die.” Mitsuya whispers.

“Why?” I ask.

“He has become you.” She is still looking downward. “Reborn again and embedded with new memories, you were created this way. You are the reincarnation of Mr. Kurita.”

“Why is it that no one can notice it?” I remain calm.

“People’s impressions can easily be changed. A subtle change creates a different impression of the appearance on the surface. However, the interior is completely the same. If not, the methods and know-hows that Mr. Kurita once had would have been lost. The functionality as a pilot and as a weapon would have been lost.”

I am laughing.

That is an interesting insight.

“How do you like the coffee?” I ask, while putting out the cigarette.

“Yes, it tastes good. Thank you.”

“I ... find it to be interesting. Thank you.”

-5-

Midori Mitsuya is getting out of the room. By the time she is done with her coffee, her tears has completely disappeared and she is wearing a blank look as usual. She appears to be feeling good. I think I understand why. In short, her mind is cleared out. At times, she needs to give vent to her feelings. That is the way it seems to be. Either of the men who died in the previous battle must have been the listener of the conversation with her. At the end of her visit, she makes such a confession.

“Forgive me. But, that was a big help. I really appreciate it. You can say that you have saved me.” Mitsuya confesses in an indifferent tone. It sounds dry, as if she is devoid of emotions. She now looks like a completely different person from what she has appeared to become earlier.

“Good night.” Either of us says.

The door is closed, and the footsteps are fading away.

It is a little past 20:00.

Tokino has yet to come back.

I finish drinking the blood-cold coffee left in my cup. For some reason, I associate it with the puddle at the bottom of a sandbox. It is fresh water made from muddy water after being filtered. The taste of coffee has an effect to promote the retreat of my thoughts.

I wash the cup and put it back to the cupboard.

I light a cigarette again and open the window to let fresh air into the room.

I have decided not to think about what Mitsuya has told me.

It is the same as the proposition to try to understand if this very moment is a real event or a dream. We cannot decide that just one of them is true. It is no use making the decision. I have heard similar stories several times before. In this world, or in the field of pilots, it is a well-known story and a disease. Every pilot is always drunk. Even after we land on the ground, our minds are still levitating. It is an occupational disease without doubt.

Who am I?

Why am I flying above the clouds even though I’m a human?

Why am I shooting down other humans?

Why are the losers going back to the ground?

Why?

Why ...?

I can find the beauty only in sophisticated movements like performing a dance. I forget to love someone. I forget to make myself live. Knowing and recalling something are left above the clouds.

I just fly smoothly.

I whizz through the air and turn over.

At the moment, I see the void inside me.

But, I can no longer recall on the ground the dreamy feeling.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot do it.

Who am I?

Why am I living?

Smoke is drifting.

The air surely exists around me.

Have I ever wanted to die?

Probably, I have.

Even so, I cannot recall it anymore.

Is my memory circuit broken? Or ...

I wonder if the capacity of my memory is already full.

Am I living too long?

I cling to it.

I struggle not to fall ...

While I fly desperately, I miss the good opportunity to die.

That may be the case.

I guess.

If we don’t think about this and that like Mitsuya does.

We cannot escape from the curses, as long as we live.

Same for Kusanagi, I suppose.

Same for me, probably.

No different for Tokino and Shinoda.

Shouting “No war!”, occupying the streets while brandishing picket signs, chatting at a café on their ways home, going back home, opening the fridge, and thinking, “Then, what shall I eat tonight?” ... Are we slightly better off than believing that such a pebble-like peace is real?

If we can obtain nothing by ourselves, how can we consider anything as ours? Are we slightly better off than thinking about that sort of thing all the time?

Anyway, there is no changeover switch.

I have a pain in my right hand.

Before I know it, I clench it firmly.

I hear a scream.

From outside the window.

I press the cigarette onto the ashtray.

My heartbeat is getting rapid.

A woman’s scream.

A gunshot.

No, not a firework.

I hear a gunshot.

Is it a dream? I wonder.

One second.

I stand up.

I wish Tokino were here, I think.

Two seconds.

I exhale a rapid breath.

I gotta go ...

I will put on a flight jacket, I think.

Oh, I haven’t got it back from Kusumi yet.

Why?

Now?

Such a thing?

Is that what I recall?

Three seconds.

I open the door and get to the corridor.

I walk to the stairway.

My pace is getting faster.

I run through the courtyard.

I run into the lobby of the office building.

Voices of women quarreling against each other.

I climb up the stairs.

Kusanagi’s office.

The door is closed.

I knock the door.

Then.

I open it without waiting for the reply.

-6-

Suito Kusanagi is standing behind the desk.

Right in front of me, at the center of the room, Midori Mitsuya is standing. She is extending her both arms straight forward, and is turning a gun on Kusanagi. Cracks are spread radially on the windowpane behind Kusanagi. The center of the cracks has turned white. I see the hole, through which a bullet must have flown.

“Please get out, Kannami.” Mitsuya says without looking back at me.

“Get out, Kannami.” Kusanagi commands in a low voice.

“I will get out, if you tell me what the trouble is about.” I step forward, and observe the two.

“Don’t you get it, just by looking at it?” Mitsuya turns around her face toward me. “I am trying to shoot Ms. Kusanagi.”

“For what?” I make one more step toward her.

“Hysteria.” Kusanagi utters behind the desk. “It is dangerous, Kannami. You should get out. This is my order.”

“I won’t say things like, ‘Calm down.’ or ‘Stop it.’” I position myself between Mitsuya and Kusanagi. “To be honest, it’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous, I know.” Mitsuya utters.

“Oh my ...” Kusanagi sighs behind me.

“Don’t misunderstand this.” Mitsuya lowers the gun. “I’m doing such a thing because she provoked me.”

“Yeah, yeah ...” Kusanagi murmurs. “That’s what you say ...”

“She said she wanted me to shoot her. She wants to die by being shot by someone else, she said.” Mitsuya is wearing a blank look. She is not looking too excited. “So, as a subordinate, I just decided to obey her order.”

“Really?” I look back at Kusanagi.

“May I sit down?” Kusanagi asks.

Mitsuya does not respond. Kusanagi sits in a chair anyway.

“You should put away the gun.” I extend my hand toward her. “Or, will you give me the gun?”

“This is my gun.”

“Then, will you let me borrow it?” I extend my hand farther.

“Why?”

“In your stead, I will obey Ms. Kusanagi’s order.”

“Are you telling me that, on my behalf, you will shoot her?” Mitsuya changes her facial expression a little.

“Good idea.” Kusanagi utters behind me.

“Why don’t you trust your senior?” I tell that to Mitsuya. The word ‘senior’ means that I have a longer career as Kusanagi’s subordinate than she has.

Silence.

During the moment, probably no one is breathing.

Mitsuya blinks once.

Then, she raises her arm, which has been lowered.

The muzzle of the gun is being directed toward me.

I am still stretching my left arm forward.

My left hand is approaching her hand that is holding the gun.

My eyes are locked onto her eyes that are glaring at me.

I hold the barrel of the gun.

Silence.

Mitsuya’s right hand lets go of the gun.

I breathe.

She breathes and looks downward at the floor.

“Good.” I utter. “When you are leaving the zone, you should quickly ...”

Check the surroundings!

Search for the next target!

I receive the gun with my left hand.

I shift it to my right hand.

I look back.

Beyond the desk, Suito Kusanagi is taking the seat.

“Mitsuya, get out.” While raising her chin, Kusanagi commands, with her eyes half-closed. “I don’t want you to see me die.”

“If you want to die, you should just die.” Mitsuya whispers. She warps her face a little.

She walks toward the door at a fast pace and grabs the doorknob.

“I am leaving.” She says, while glaring at me.

She opens the door, and gets out.

The door is shut loudly.

The footsteps fade. The sound of her climbing down the stairs, and that of the door in the lobby.

Isn’t her room right next to this office? I ask myself silently.

Silence.

I am staring at the door.

As I notice what I am doing, I look back toward the desk.

Kusanagi is gazing straight at me.

Her right hand, which has been hidden under the desk, is lifted slowly. She is holding a gun, and is applying her finger on the trigger.

“Do accidents like this occur often?” I inquire.

“Quite often.” Kusanagi answers. “May I smoke a cigarette?”

“Why do you ask me? This is your room.”

“I want to smoke one cigarette before I’m killed.”

“Go ahead.”

She puts her gun on the desk, opens a drawer, and picks up a cigarette. I am looking at what she is doing, while standing at the center of the room. My right hand with the heavy gun is hanging down. Maybe, it is finally searching for its raison d’être.

Kusanagi exhales the smoke. She squints, and looks upward. She might be trying to see the sky, but the ceiling is blocking her sight.

“I think dying on the ground would be miserable, because the dead body would be exposed. I cannot stand it, especially if there is a jackass nearby.”

“Who is the jackass?”

“For example, my mother, my aunt ...” Kusanagi chuckles at the moment. “No, never mind ...”

“The story about your killing Mr. Kurita. Is it ...?”

“It’s true.” She nods simply.

“Did he beg you to kill him?”

“Of course.”

“Did you like him?”

“Yes.”

Kusanagi closes her eyes. The cigarette in her hand. Thin, straight, white smoke.

I can predict what she is going to say next.

Could you please kill me?

Heartbeats.

Breaths.

Slight dizziness.

I swipe my front hair sideways.

I am sweating.

“Kannami.” While keeping her eyes shut, Kusanagi says. “Shoot me with the gun.”

“Is it your order?”

“Whatever.”

“If you want to die, a gun is there.” I tell her.

Kusanagi opens her eyes and looks at me.

Then, she stares at the gun on the desk.

What controls me is my right hand.

I cast cold words to her.

It is probably my self defense.

I do.

Always.

Just like that.

I have lived.

Without doing so.

I have not been able to live.

For somebody else’s life.

I don’t have time.

Kusanagi takes her breath softly.

She appears to be smiling.

She conveys the cigarette to her mouth.

It is glowing red.

She glances at me once.

My right hand shivers.

She presses the cigarette against the ashtray.

Her lips seem to want to say something.

But, only the smoke comes out.

Her hand is moving from the ashtray to the gun.

She is not looking at me.

She holds the gun.

She lifts it up.

Her finger is on the trigger.

She applies the muzzle onto her temple.

She is not looking at me.

My right hand is raised smoothly.

Without even a moment’s hesitation.

I pull the trigger.

The explosive sound.

Kusanagi’s body appears to be bouncing.

The afterimage.

From my right arm to the shoulder.

The impact is traveling through.

The reverberation.

The smell of the gunpowder.

The reverberation.

The white smoke.

The afterimage.

“Kusanagi.” My mouth utters.

My eyes lock onto her over the desk.

Suito Kusanagi is not moving anymore.

I slowly approach her.

The armchair.

The ashtray.

The thin streak of smoke is rising.

Kusanagi’s arms are hanging down from the armrests.

I move around the desk, and kneel down beside her.

“Kusanagi.”

Her face is oriented obliquely.

Her eyes are closed.

Her mouth remains slack.

On her left chest, there is a hole.

The hole is punched through by my gun.

As I do during shooting trainings, I have shot her heart with the uncanny precision.

Her gun falls off onto the floor.

A little above it, her white hand hangs down.

From the hand, beautiful blood is dripping down.

My right hand is still holding the Mitsuya’s gun.

I put it on the floor.

Then.

I touch her forehead with the same hand which has just killed her.

I imagine that her eyes are moving.

If she is still breathing.

I wonder if she would thank me.

It is a face like that of a little girl.

Peaceful.

Appears to be sleeping.

Looking satisfied.

I see the hallucination, in which I am falling downward.

Gaining the velocity more and more, I fall right straight downward.

Even if I deploy the spoilers to increase the air resistance.

The velocity is getting faster.

I see the bright light in the distance.

Toward it, I am falling.

I recall various things.

Even more so, I fail to recall various things.

I reach for the telephone on the desk and pick up the receiver.

“I need help ... Send an ambulance here.”

-7-

Before the ambulance arrived, Mitsuya and Tokino dashed into the room. I cannot recall what Tokino said. If I remember correctly, Mitsuya was crying. Anyway, my memory is vague like clouds in the autumn sky.

I have been staying in a different place for a while.

It is because the place is accepting me.

I do not know whether it is a hospital, the headquarters, or the police.

As I gradually make the progress in recovery, and my mental window that allows me to see outside me becomes clear, I am sitting on a bench by the tree shade in a large grass garden. No one is near me. But, I feel someone watching me from somewhere. As I turn around, I see a building with flat, white walls, from whose glass windows that are laterally lined up side-by-side, several human faces are observing me.

It is similar to an exhibition, I think.

Although I have never been to any exhibition.

But.

I feel good.

I want to smoke a cigarette, and search my pockets, but I cannot find it.

I look up into the sky.

In the part of the sky far above, I see a line of vapor trail. I cannot visually catch the figure of the aircraft. No other cloud is in the sky. The air is clear and chilly. I am wearing a thick sweater which I have never seen before. The season is probably winter. Judging from the position of the sun, I can say it is around 15:00. If it is the same sun as the one I know, that is.

The sound of an opening door.

It is the door near the window, through which I recognize a figure of someone. A woman in a white coat appears, climbs down the brick stairs, and walks toward me. She gets closer to me, and stops.

“Are you going back to your room?”

“Can I get on an aircraft again?” I ask.

Then, I look up into the sky.

Before I know it, the vapor trail is getting more vague and spread out wider, like the memory of the childhood.

“Yes, before long. How do you feel?”

“Clear.”

“Oh, what is clear?”

“My feeling.”