Zero Sum Game (25 page)

"Let me guess," Shimizu said. "Human girl: 2. You: 0."

Fujiya said nothing and brushed by Shimizu. He sat on the leather couch in the living room. "I got the data," he said.

Shimizu tapped the scanner against the palm of his hand. "Did the authorities intervene?"

"We were gone before they showed up."

Shimizu put the scanner in his pocket, went to his kitchen, and poured a glass of water from the refrigerated bottle. Back in the living room, he took a seat across from Fujiya. "If one learns from one's mistakes, you're the smartest person on the planet." He watched Fujiya fume on the couch.

Fujiya turned away and looked out the window. "She's only a human."

Shimizu shrugged, indicating the case was closed. He took the scanner out of his pocket. After a moment of looking at it, he asked, "What was it like?"

Fujiya gestured to the device. "The data is all there." Shimizu kept his gaze on him. Some of Fujiya's anger drained away. "Like the simulations said it would. A little more violent than I thought it would be." He paused. "I think it'll work."

Shimizu turned the scanner over in his hands. He wanted to examine its contents now but would wait until tonight. He had other business at AHI that couldn't be put off. He tried to control is impatience. He wondered if Fujiya was right.
How close was it to the tests?
he asked himself. Was it not close enough? Or was it, if possible, exactly like the tests had been? Isn't it possible everything was going like he had planned? They had encountered unexpected surprises. But maybe everything would work out in the end. If the data on the scanner confirmed his greatest hopes, they could move on to the next phase and launch the catoms on a planetary scale. Then he would have saved his race. They would declare him a hero. A savior. He'd be honored and rewarded more than any other Noigel in history.

But underneath all that, below the craving for fame and recognition, he truly wanted to save his people. No matter how many monuments they built or the number of artifacts they left behind, even if it was every piece of material they had, their race would fade into history if no one were alive. Without flesh and blood that continued carrying the Noigel race,
being
a Noigel, their civilization would end up as a note on a history data chip. Shimizu couldn't let that happen. He'd be their savior, come hell or high water.

Fujiya rose and walked to the balcony. He stood there, silent, gazing over Hiroshima. Fujiya looked like he had something on his mind, and he didn't often look like that.

After another few seconds of silence, Fujiya asked, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

This intrigued him, Fujiya didn't often speak so formally. "Go ahead."

He faced Shimizu, who watched him with curiosity. It sounded as if Fujiya was about to get sentimental, something he never associated with his subordinate. "I revealed my true form to her. I turned off the holo emitters and stood before her as a Noigel soldier."

Shimizu grimaced; he had ordered Fujiya to never switch off the holographic disguise under any circumstances. He kept quiet, wanting to hear what Fujiya had to say. He'd reprimand him later.

The big man stared at his hands and feet, as if seeing them again after being hidden in bandages following a terrible accident. "I saw myself for the first time in almost five years. My
real
self. My own skin, my own muscles. Me. I saw me."

The sentimentality and sadness in Fujiya's eyes shocked Shimizu. In all the years of working with him, Shimizu had never seen such an expression on his face. "I want this to succeed as much as you do," Fujiya said. "I want our race to live. More importantly,
I
want to live. I want to be me again."

The speech touched Shimizu although he didn't let it show. Fujiya never seriously complained about the mission. He was a soldier. Shimizu had chosen him because he was strong, big, and willing to follow orders. Now he brought up a good point, one Shimizu hadn't considered. He had been hiding so long that he hadn't realized he
was
hiding. At that moment he wanted to jump up, turn off his flash skin, and stand in his apartment as a true Noigel. He wanted to breathe air that wasn't filtered through an energy field. He wanted to use his own senses, not have them relayed through artificial biofeedback. But he couldn't. Under no circumstances could he discard his flash skin. He wouldn't die instantly if he switched it off, but the risk of exposing his cover was too high. The urge to come into his apartment every day, deactivate it, and be
him
would be too great. When he finished his mission, when Earth was New Noigel, there would be no need for flash skins—for himself, Fujiya, or anyone.

Fujiya still stood at the window. Shimizu came up beside him. "We'll succeed. And that battle suit out there, and these flash skins, won't mean a thing anymore. We'll be Noigel once again."

Of this, he had no doubt.

CHAPTER 21

There were no classes the next day at Hiroshima City Junior High School. The new school week had brought with it a different activity: Sports Day practice. After the morning homeroom, the students were ordered out onto the dusty playing field. Everyone wore their gym clothes and a headband of their team's color. On one long side of the oval field were freestanding tents, where the students would sit when they weren't participating in events. Each team had its own section to sit in (although no chairs, they sat on the ground) and each team consisted of a balanced number of first-, second-, and third-years.

On the opposite side of the field were a pair of freestanding tents. Several long tables were set up there: on one of them rested a microphone and portable music player. The student announcer would sit there, and his partner would be in charge of playing music between every event. Chairs were set up for the teachers and the band; most would be empty for practice week but would fill up on Sunday. Between the tents stood a small metal platform where the principal would give his opening and closing remarks.

Hina had participated in Sports Day once before. Most of the first day would be spent on drills for the marches, and formations for the opening and closing ceremonies. The students practiced how to enter onto the field, how to go to and from their tents before and after events, and other dull routines. The sun scorched her skin and the air blanketed her with humidity. The red headband she wore did little to dry her wet brow. Her white shirt clung to her back and the dust from the field covered her shoes and butt. Every couple of hours, the students took a ten minute break, resting under the shade of their respective team tents and drinking sports drinks or tea from their thermos bottles. Lunch came, with the same duties as every day, then more marches and formation practices. The homeroom teachers were responsible for keeping the students in line, but even the teachers without homerooms were required to stay outside with the students. Only the principal and the office workers could spend the day inside.

Practice ended, and Hina gathered her belongings at the tent. She hadn't stopped by Ami's house to retrieve her bag after leaving it with her at the coffee shop. Ami had been a friend enough to bring it with her this morning. Hina wanted to go home and relax. She had no homework, but she still had weightlifting training. She didn't have much time to spend with her dad.

Thinking of him, she took a detour. Her favorite donut store was not too far away. Her father ate the same old dreary breakfast every day. She decided to get him a few donuts for in the morning and, she had to admit, for herself as well.

The shop wasn't too crowded. The donut case and register were in front, and the majority of seating was to her left, with an enclosed smoking area at the very end. She wondered why anyone would want to spoil the sweetness of donuts with cigarettes. Could they even taste them with all that smoke in the air and in their mouths?

A few customers occupied the shop. A high school student took up a single table next to the entrance, papers and textbooks disarrayed across the table. In the main seating area were: a family with a toddler, two old women, and a salaryman sitting by himself.

"Welcome to our store," the two clerks shouted in unison. Hina ordered two donuts for herself and a cafe-au-lait, and three donuts to-go for her father.

Before the second clerk rang up Hina's order, she leaned over the counter and said, "Miss, I wouldn't sit near the gentleman." Hina followed her gaze to the salaryman. His gray hair was matted and limp, and his dull suit looked as if it had been slept in for two days. He stared at his cell phone's screen with bloodshot eyes. He gripped the phone so tight his knuckles were white. Hina was afraid he'd break the device. His patted his jacket pocket, as if assuring himself something still resided inside. He picked up a coffee cup with a shaky hand and took a loud sip.

"He's been here since seven this morning," the clerk continued.

"Can't you ask him to leave?"

The clerk shook her head. "As long as he continues to order, we can't kick him out. Plus, he hasn't really bothered anyone. He talks to himself. I have a bad feeling about him."

"He might be sick," the other clerk said.

Hina wondered for a moment; the man wasn't wearing a cough and cold mask. Then she understood the woman's meaning: sick in the mind. She noticed that the tables on either side of him were unoccupied.

"Thanks for the warning," Hina said.

She paid, took her tray to a table and sat. Across the aisle from her sat the salaryman, still staring at his cell phone. He creeped her out a little bit, she tried to ignore him. The family not far from her enjoyed themselves; the toddler threw as many bits and crumbs of his donut at his parents as he ate. They smiled and giggled and talked.

Hina bit into her donut, enjoying the sweetness of the chocolate and the crunchiness of the shredded coconut. It had been a while since she had been here; to her donuts were always a morning food. Maybe it was the slight sugar rush that jolted her, making her feel she could tackle the upcoming day. It felt strange eating one now, in the afternoon. When she was in elementary school, she sometimes stopped in with her parents on the weekends. But since entering junior high and having weightlifting training, her trips here had pretty much ended.

The register clerk ran around the end of the counter. She locked the door and flipped the business sign from 'Open' to 'Closed.' She lowered the blinds at the nearest window. Hina wondered what was going on. Were they closing early? She didn't think so, the staff would have made an announcement. And the clerk didn't walk in a professional manner, she almost ran and looked scared.
But of what?
Hina wondered.

The salaryman stood at the register. She hadn't even seen him leave his table. He still gripped his cell phone in one hand, he held a long sharp knife in his other. The scared clerk bumped into the doorframe of the smoking area entrance, rattling the glass. That caught everyone else's attention. They looked at her, then saw the man with the knife. An old lady screamed and the toddler's parents let out a gasp, the mother putting her arm around the child. The high school boy didn't look up, focused on his studies.

The salaryman's bloodshot eyes tried looking at everyone at once. The clerk behind the register backed against the work counter, her hands gripping it tightly. She didn't move; her gaze followed every twitch and swipe of the knife. Hina saw the door to the kitchen area. She wondered why the woman didn't run into the back to get help or at least save her own life. The woman was too scared to move.

The man glared at the customers. "What are you doing back there?" His voice was unsteady but petulant, like a child asking why others were getting candy and not him. "I can't do it if you're all back there." He swiped at the air and an old lady yelped. "I can't reach you." He took a stumbling step forward, like his knees were locked and his shoes were filled with cement.

Hina realized she had been waiting for a situation like this. This was a chance to fight, to face danger and overcome it.
It's only a knife. It's only a knife. It can't hurt me
, she repeated to herself.
Voice said I'm nearly invulnerable.
I fell off a second story roof without a scratch. I can handle this. It's only a knife.

In the silence a page rustled. The salaryman snapped his head in the direction of the sound. He shuffled towards the boy, holding the knife at chest height with one hand and never letting go of his cell phone. Something must have alerted the boy, he looked up and his eyes went wide when he saw the knife and the crazed man holding it.

"You're right there," the salaryman said. "Perfect, perfect, perfect. Stay right there." He gave a weak, awkward jab. The knife wasn't even within a meter of touching the kid, but he backed away as if he had been poked with a hot iron. His chair banged the window behind him. He was trapped; blinds and glass behind him, a knife welding manic in front. He glanced at everyone sitting on the other side of the shop, then at the clerk behind the counter. She turned her head away, unable to look him in the eye as he pleaded for help in silence. The salaryman shuffled forward and jabbed again, this time closer to his target.

"Stop it."

All eyes turned to Hina. "Just stop it," she said, standing by her table. "You're scaring these people. Whatever you want, you're not getting it here." She stepped forward.

The man shuffled away from the scared student. "What I want?" the man said. His voice went shrill. "What I want is this," and he put the tip of the knife to the base of his throat. "But I can't." He lowered the tip. "I can't do it on my own." He took a few halting steps towards Hina.

Hina moved away from her table. One of the old ladies grabbed her wrist and tried to tug her back towards safety. Hina focused only on the salaryman. She stopped a couple of meters away.

"But you," he continued, "you can help." His eyes shook in their sockets and his mouth seemed like it was trying to smile and cry at the same time. "I kill you, and I get the death penalty. Then I'm gone. I'll have what I want."