Читать книгу The Shield of Kuromori - Jason Rohan - Страница 13

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.’