The Shield of Kuromori

The bike hurtled over the slim ribbon of the Nogawa River, and Kiyomi turned right on to a side road which ran past scrubby farmland and small industrial units.

‘I don’t see them ahead,’ Kenny said. ‘Have we lost th– Look out!’

The second delivery van charged out of a builder’s yard on the left and barrelled straight at them. Kiyomi yanked the handlebars sharply to the right, skidding the bike through a gap in the safety rail which lined the road and on to the narrow pavement. Kenny held his breath as Kiyomi slalomed her way past dustbins, telegraph poles, vending machines and pedestrians, all obstructing the pavement.

The delivery van roared alongside the bike, separated only by the railing. ‘Hah! Me catch you!’ barked the oni driving.

‘Red light ahead,’ Kenny warned, his voice rising, as they approached a T-junction.

‘I’m not blind,’ Kiyomi said through gritted teeth. ‘You might want to close your eyes, though.’

Traffic in front moved in both directions. The motorbike shot off the pavement, blasted through the pedestrian crossing, slipped between two cars and swung a wide left, hugging the centre line once more. The rear tyre skipped sideways with a VIP-VIP-VIP sound. Kenny looked back and scowled; the light had turned green at the last moment and the van was still in pursuit.

Kiyomi crossed the orange line and powered down the opposite lane. It was free of cars and Kenny saw workers ahead clearing the ditch which ran alongside the road. The van followed, zipping past the commuter cars on the left.

‘He’s gaining on us,’ Kenny said.

‘That’s because I’m letting him,’ Kiyomi said, whizzing past red plastic cones lining the kerb.

And then Kenny saw why their lane was clear: a large bulldozer was trundling towards them, holding up traffic and blocking the lane.

Kiyomi opened the throttle and ripped towards it.

‘No! You’re not . . .’ Kenny started.

‘Yes, I am,’ Kiyomi replied. ‘Hold tight.’

Workmen scattered at the sight of the accelerating vehicles; two dived head first into the ditch, and one abandoned the wheelbarrow he was pushing up a plank on a large mound of earth, grabbing his hard hat instead and ducking.

Kiyomi took one last glance in her mirrors, to see that the oni was right behind, and adjusted her course by a fraction. The bike hit the plank, shot upwards and soared high into the air.

Kenny wanted to scream but he was holding his breath too tightly. He saw the bulldozer pass beneath in a yellow blur and braced himself for the landing. The bike jolted down on the centre line and Kenny flinched at the impact, shutting his eyes for a moment. It felt like a giant had just kicked him up the backside. The motorcycle skidded and wobbled before Kiyomi brought it back under control.

Behind them, the oni wasn’t so lucky. The van smashed into the front scoop of the bulldozer, flipped upwards and somersaulted over the line of cars – right towards Kenny and Kiyomi.

‘Down!’ Kiyomi slammed her arm across Kenny’s chest, throwing him off the bike, and dived after him. The van crashed into the tarmac, missing them by centimetres, and clattered end over end.

Kenny grinned up at Kiyomi, who was lying on top of him. ‘You know, if you wanted a kiss, you could’ve just asked me,’ he said.

‘Ugh,’ was the reply. Kiyomi sprang to her feet and yanked the motorbike upright. She shot Kenny a look. ‘Are you going to lie there all day?’

Kenny stood up, aching all over. ‘I thought you were tracking the van. Now it’s trashed, how are we going to find them?’

‘I put the tracker on the telescope when I landed on it. That’s what we’re after. These guys are just slowing us down.’

‘Ohhh. So where is it?’

Kiyomi squinted at the touchscreen display. ‘Oh, no.’ Her shoulders sagged. ‘I should’ve seen this coming.’

‘Why? What is it?’

Kiyomi pointed across the road. ‘See those cars and low buildings over there?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That’s Chofu Airport. They’re flying it out.’

Thirty seconds later, the motorcycle shot up the curving access road, past the IBEX Aviation building. A twin-propeller Dornier 228 droned overhead, its landing gear extended. Kiyomi drifted through the car park, scanning the rows of Cessna and Piper Cub aircraft that stood on the apron of the runway.

‘I’m not seeing them,’ she said. ‘Maybe they’re in a hangar.’

‘With a twelve-metre truck? What’s the reading say?’

Kiyomi consulted the display again. ‘Weird. It says they’re moving . . . and they’re out here. But where?’

Kenny’s eyes swept the airfield. ‘What’s wrong with this picture?’ he said. ‘Look.’

Kiyomi followed his outstretched finger and saw a heavy, squat aeroplane with twin jet engines taxiing towards the runway. ‘What are you showing me?’ she said.

‘Duh! That’s a military transport plane.’

‘So?’

‘Clue number one: military plane at a civilian airport. Clue number two: its cargo bay is big enough to fit a lorry inside.’

‘The truck’s already on the plane?’ Kiyomi watched the jet trundle into its final take-off position. The engines howled as power built up.

‘That’d be my guess. So now what? Do we phone – Hey!’

The bike leapt forwards, almost throwing Kenny off before he grabbed Kiyomi’s shoulder to steady himself. She speed-shifted through the gears in seconds, launching the motorcycle down the access road which looped to the south of the runway.

Engines roaring, the Kawasaki C-1 transport began its take-off. It shuddered forward, picking up speed.

‘Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do!’ Kenny yelled in Kiyomi’s ear.

‘Ken-chan, these freaks just hurt a lot of people. I’m not letting them get away with it.’ As if to underline the point, Kiyomi twisted the throttle harder, pushing the RPM display into the red.

The tail of the transport jet loomed into view and towered overhead, its triangular silhouette blotting out the evening stars as the aircraft continued to accelerate.

‘Come on!’ Kiyomi yelled at her motorbike, urging it ever closer to the undercarriage. The aeroplane continued to advance, steadily pulling away from the bike.

‘We’re not going to catch them! They’re too fast!’ Kenny screamed, straining to be heard over the thundering jet engines.

Kiyomi ignored him, reached into a side pouch on the bike and brought her feet up, setting the soles of her boots on to the seat. She crouched for a second, like a jockey on a racehorse, and then let go of the handlebars, straightening up.

Kenny dared not breathe as Kiyomi balanced on the seat, afraid that any movement from him would topple the bike. Her right hand shot out, a flash of metal glinted in the plane’s lights and the kaginawa grappling hook soared over the aeroplane wing in front.

The wheels of the C-1 jet left the runway and rose into the air. Kenny saw the cord snap taut in Kiyomi’s hands and she jumped. Instinctively, Kenny dived for the weighted end of the remaining line and grabbed it, looping it round his wrists. The motorcycle slipped away from beneath him and he half expected to be smeared into paste on the tarmac.

Instead, he was hauled upwards and pounded by the air rushing over the wing. The nylon cord cut into his wrists and hands and the roaring wind of the slipstream buffeted and pummelled him, making it hard to see or breathe. Below, the illuminated runway dropped away at a sickening speed and Kenny knew he couldn’t hold on for much longer. Unless . . .

He closed his eyes, forced the panic from his mind and centred his ki once more. Since he was being battered by the wind in front, what he needed was a counter-force, to even it out . . .

A powerful gust of air from behind propelled him forward towards the wing. Kiyomi hauled in the line, hand over hand, reeling them in to sprawl on the metal surface. The air was thinning and an icy chill blasted through Kenny’s thin football clothes. The C-1 continued to climb. Far below, the night lights of Tokyo sparkled like jewels scattered on velvet.

‘Great plan,’ he yelled in Kiyomi’s ear. ‘Are we meant to freeze, suffocate or fall off now?’

A crack of light split open in the body of the plane and a harsh neon glow spilled out. Kenny craned his neck round and saw that a door had opened just behind the wing. Standing in the gap was the unmistakable shape of an oni, levelling a large handgun at them.

‘Kenny!’ Kiyomi screamed. ‘We’re sitting ducks out here!’

The oni took aim and pulled the trigger. BLAMM!

SKING! The bullet ricocheted off the sword in Kenny’s hand. The oni fired again, sending two more rounds Kenny’s way. Kusanagi bucked in his hand, deflecting the heavy-calibre slugs.

‘Nar-gu-rah uk-kru n’gak-rak,’ the oni barked, reaching back inside the plane.

‘Ken-chan – he’s getting a rocket launcher!’ Kiyomi yelled.

Kenny didn’t need telling twice. He raised the sword high over his head and swept it down, slicing through the metal structure of the wing. It fell away, spinning through the sky, with Kenny and Kiyomi clinging to it like two surfers on a board.

The detached wing flipped, throwing Kenny and Kiyomi into free fall. Kenny rolled over and over before, intuitively, he thrust out his arms and legs in a star shape to increase resistance. The wind whipped at his flimsy clothes and the uncontrolled tumbling motion slowed before settling into a semi-glide.

It was a strange sensation: on the one hand, Kenny felt like he was floating; on the other, the rush of air surging past left him in no doubt that he was falling – and falling fast. Above, fraying clouds hung low in the purple sky. Below, amid Tokyo’s glittering expanse, lay a splotch of darkness.

Kiyomi drifted down, twisting her shoulders and knees to manoeuvre through the air. She drew opposite Kenny, locked her hands on to his wrists and pulled him closer, until her forehead touched his.

‘You’re an idiot!’ she screamed.

Her words were lost in the rush of wind, but Kenny could lip-read. He nodded downwards. ‘What’s the black area down there?’ he yelled, exaggerating the shape of each word.

Kiyomi craned her neck in each direction to fix her bearings before answering.

‘That’s Saitama, near Tokorozawa. It’s a reservoir, either Lake Sayama or Lake Tama.’

‘Trust me!’ Kenny shouted.

The city lights below were brighter now and he could make out details: a Ferris wheel, a covered stadium and another airfield. Closing his eyes, Kenny pictured a powerful updraught whooshing from the ground like a geyser. He focused on the image, feeling the air between his fingers, throwing it upwards like splashing water from a pool.

He opened his eyes again and his stomach heaved. The moonlit surface of the lake was rushing towards him at almost two hundred kilometres per hour. Kenny screwed his eyes shut, clenched his teeth so hard that he thought they would break, and summoned every trace of willpower he had. He knew he could do this, but more importantly he had to believe it.

‘I trust you.’

Kiyomi’s words sparked like a firefly in the blackness of his mind. Something flared deep down in the core of his consciousness and power surged through him. Kenny braced for the impact; hitting water at that speed and height would be like slamming into concrete.

Nothing happened.

He waited, not daring to open his eyes.

‘Uh, Ken-chan.’ Kiyomi’s voice was quiet, as if afraid to disturb him. ‘You can set us down now.’

Kenny blinked and gasped. He and Kiyomi were suspended two metres above the lake. The autumn air was motionless around them and they floated, as if gravity had ceased.

‘I – I don’t know how . . .’ Kenny began to say, before a whisper of doubt crept into his mind. This can’t be real.

SPLASSHH! The shock of the chilled lake water slapped him back to reality and he swallowed a mouthful before kicking up to the surface. Kiyomi bobbed alongside him, treading water in her soggy leathers. Fury blazed in her eyes.

‘I know, I know,’ Kenny spluttered, before she could speak. ‘I’m an idiot. But at least we’re not dead.’

‘Urgh! No thanks to you.’

‘What? It wasn’t my idea to jump on to a moving plane.’

‘And it wasn’t mine to cut the wing off.’

An orange light flashed in the mountains to the west and the muffled crump of an explosion rolled towards them.

‘You can thank me later,’ Kenny said, and began the long swim to shore.

A circular intake tower with a green conical roof, like a medieval turret, stood some fifteen metres clear of the water. Connecting it to the mainland was a suspension bridge and the industrial lights of a pumping station shone like a beacon, guiding Kenny and Kiyomi to shore. They pulled themselves up the shallow bank and flopped, panting, on to a forlorn patch of grass.

Kenny breathed in deep chestfuls of air and waited for his drumming heart to slow. His limbs were leaden and he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep on the dirt, except the chattering of his teeth would have kept him awake.

Kiyomi unzipped her phone from its waterproof pocket and made a call.

‘How long before our pick up?’ Kenny asked, sitting up and hugging himself to keep warm.

‘About half an hour,’ Kiyomi replied. She wrapped her arms round her knees and shivered.

‘And how long before hypothermia kicks in?’

Kiyomi rolled her eyes. ‘You’re such a wimp. It isn’t that cold.’

‘Easy for you to say. This football kit isn’t exactly warm.’

‘You try swimming in leathers. At least you’ll dry off quickly.’

Neither spoke for the next few minutes. The only sounds were the whisper of leaves on the breeze, wavy ribbons of distant music from an amusement park, frogs chirping and the occasional plop of a fish.

‘This is silly,’ Kenny said and slid over to squeeze next to Kiyomi.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, with undisguised suspicion.

‘Jeez. It’s basic survival,’ Kenny said. ‘We’re both cold and wet. We’ve got nothing dry to change into, so the next best thing is to share bodily warmth. That or light a fire, and I don’t see anything to burn.’

‘All right,’ Kiyomi agreed, ‘but don’t try any funny stuff.’

‘Yeah, right, because you’re really appealing right now.’ Kenny regretted the words as soon as they left his lips.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Oh, uh, just . . . well . . .’

Kiyomi’s elbow landed in Kenny’s ribs. ‘Come on, spit it out.’

‘All right then. It’s just . . . you’ve been . . . such a pain lately.’

‘Me? What about you? You’ve been the most useless –’

‘No.’ Kenny held up a hand to stop her. ‘Hear me out. Listen. Ever since . . . you know . . . happened, you’ve been really angry, all the time. OK, I’m used to you being a bit feisty, and it was kind of cute, but now . . . now, you’re like the flipping Hulk – a total rage monster. Tonight just caps it all off. You could’ve got us killed, what, four times, at least. Reckless is one thing, but this . . . this is like you just don’t care.’

Lights flashed behind Kenny’s eyes as the back of his head slammed into the earth and the air was driven from his lungs by Kiyomi’s knees on his chest. He tried to breathe in, but her fingers drilled into his throat, cutting off his airway.

‘Who are you to call me reckless?’ Kiyomi spat. ‘I ought to rip your stupid throat out and . . . and . . .’

The mask of rage faltered. Kiyomi’s eyes widened from angry slits and her twisted snarl changed to a gasp of distress. Her hands flew to her mouth and she pushed away, tears brimming in her eyes.

Kenny sat up, a hand to his bruised throat, and drew in ragged gulps of air. ‘You . . . see?’ he wheezed. ‘That’s . . . what . . . I . . . meant . . .’

‘Ken-chan, I’m so sorry,’ Kiyomi sobbed, dropping to her knees beside him and throwing her arms around his shoulders. ‘I don’t know what . . . I would never . . . You’re my friend.’

Kenny felt the warmth of her tears against his neck and cupped his hand over hers.

They were in the same position when the powerful headlights of the limousine swept over the shore and Oyama strode towards them with a blanket in each ham-sized fist.

Kiyomi was first in the house, tugging off her sopping boots in the entryway. She paused at the sight of a pair of polished black loafers which didn’t belong to her father.

‘Kiyomi-chan,’ Harashima said, standing at the door to the main room. ‘I need to speak to you and Kuromori-san.’

Kenny arrived and, seeing Kiyomi’s father, bowed. ‘Konban-wa, Harashima-sama,’ he said.

Harashima nodded in acknowledgement, but kept his gaze fixed on Kiyomi. ‘Now,’ he said.

Kiyomi shook out her damp hair. ‘But Papa, can’t I have a shower first? Look at me. I’m soaked. And hungry.’

‘Oyama will bring you a fresh towel and some hot soup. What I have to say will not wait.’ Harashima turned and went back into the room.

‘Uh-oh. He seems cross,’ Kenny whispered, kicking off his trainers and reaching for house slippers.

‘You have no idea,’ Kiyomi muttered.

She stepped into the room and yelped in surprise. ‘Ojisan! Bikkuri shita!’

Kenny followed and was greeted by a familiar face. ‘Sato-san!’ He remembered to bow to Kiyomi’s uncle. ‘Konban-wa.’

‘Konban-wa, Kuromori-san.’ Sato returned the gesture. ‘Your Japanese is improving.’

Kenny blushed. ‘That’s not hard when you’re starting from zero.’

Oyama appeared with two bathrobes. He handed them out and took his leave, sliding the door closed.

Sato sighed and turned to Kiyomi. ‘Unfortunately, this is not a social visit. Your father called me.’

Harashima had both hands clasped behind his back. ‘Kiyomi-chan, I am very, very disappointed. You were under strict instructions not to engage the oni under any circumstances.’

‘Sir,’ Kenny said, ‘it was my idea. Lives were in danger.’

‘Including yours,’ Harashima snapped. ‘You are too valuable to take stupid risks like this.’

‘We’re fine,’ Kiyomi protested. ‘We saved people – and we stopped oni stealing the telescope.’

‘Did it never occur to you that we might have wanted them to steal it, so we could follow them and find out why they wanted it?’

‘That doesn’t make any . . .’ Kiyomi’s words trailed off.

‘Instead, what do we have?’ Sato said. ‘Burnt-out buildings, downtown explosions, a plane crash near the American Navy base, a fallen lamp post, dented car roofs, and witnesses speaking of a fair-haired boy in football clothes waving a sword. Do you have any idea how difficult it will be to suppress this? As far as the world media is concerned, we’ve just had a major terrorist incident.’

‘Sir,’ Kenny said, measuring his words, ‘isn’t that the point?’

Sato raised an eyebrow.

‘I mean, surely that’s what the oni, or whoever it was that sent them, want everyone to think. They blew up two buildings as a diversion, tried to steal a giant telescope, torched everything to cover their tracks and then planned to fly it away. That would all have happened, even if we hadn’t been there. The question is, why?’

Harashima pursed his lips.

A pot scraped in the kitchen. Frogs chirped outside.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I want you two to tell us everything that happened this evening. Leave nothing out. Any detail, even the most insignificant to you, might be critical.’

Sato nodded. ‘There’s definitely something big happening, since they’re not afraid to show themselves so publicly. We need to work out what it is, before it’s too late.’

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