“Masa, wait a sec.”
No sooner had she spoken than a huge sound slashed the air in front of them.
They stopped short. Just up the road, a zigzagging white minivan lost control and hopped the curb, plowing into the sign of a funeral home. Airbags puffed across the windshield; smoke billowed from beneath the vehicle.
“Shit, a car crash.”
Masa lost it. People were stuck inside the car. Yoshiko looked around. There was usually a fair amount of traffic on this street. For once, though, it was empty.
“Shit, we gotta call an ambulance.”
“Masa, we . . .”
Neither of them had a phone. To call an ambulance, they would either have to rush home or run down to the supermarket and use the payphone.
“Hey!” Masa screamed. “There’s a kid in there.”
Squinting, they could see a child seated in the car. The smoke was getting darker by the second, as a vile stench of chemicals and burning plastic filled the air. Any moment now, it might burst into flames and explode.
“Fuck, we can’t just leave. We gotta help them!”
Masa tossed his umbrella and sprinted in his sandals toward the car, Yoshiko following close behind.
“Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
Masa banged on the window. A man in his mid-thirties was pinned between the airbag and the front seat, unconscious. In the seat beside him was a young girl with her eyes open wide, in such an advanced state of shock her only movement was the heaving of her shoulders as she breathed.
“Masa, move!”
Yoshiko hit the window with a broken hunk of concrete from the curb; it cracked but didn’t shatter. On the far side of the car, Masa reached through the girl’s window, which had broken in the crash, and unlocked the door with shaky fingers.
“Are you okay? You hurt? Come on, get out!”
The girl was silent. Petrified. Masa unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled her from the van, just as a tongue of flame leapt from the trunk.
“Fire, run!” he yelled.
“Just a second!” said Yoshiko, swinging the hunk of concrete. “Almost there!”
She finally broke through the glass and reached through it to open the door. Now that she could reach him, she undid the unconscious man’s safety belt.
“Yoshiko! Run!”
Masa fled, carrying the girl, who was paralyzed with fear. Yoshiko pulled the man from the wreck and dragged him away by the armpits. Seconds later, there was a dizzying boom, and the car was engulfed in flames. Hot wind blew across their cheeks.
They were a second shy of being torched. Red flames and black ribbons of smoke wove through the rainy sky.
Yoshiko was spent. Hugging the man to her chest, she sat down where she was, right on the pavement. Over her shoulder, she saw Masa standing with the girl, holding her hand tight. The girl was small, fair-skinned and slight, two braids over her shoulders, eyes opened as wide as her face muscles would allow. It was hard to look at her.
That’s when they heard the voices. Shouting, oohs and aahs. Yoshiko turned and saw a cluster of young people leaning from the windows of a car, taking photos of them and the burning wreckage with their smartphones.
“Hey, you guys! Call an ambulance! Help!”
Masa ran over to them shouting, but all they did was scream and turn their cameras on him from the safety of their car. The young girl, coming to her senses, started bawling, and the man in Yoshiko’s arms let out a queasy groan.
Another car, from the direction of the ocean, skidded to a stop. Two ladies hopped out, shouting detailed explanations of the accident into their phones. Full reports in high-pitched voices. From the sound of it, they were talking to the fire department and the cops.
A guy stepped out of the first car. Without saying a word, he turned the camera on the man slumped on the ground and then on Yoshiko, holding him up.
“Hey, you!” Masa shouted. “Get out of here!”
Masa windmilled his arms, trying to scare him off. The young guy acted like he couldn’t hear him, although Masa did succeed in putting himself in the spotlight.
“No!” said Yoshiko. “Don’t let him get you!”
It was no use. Masa blocked his face and turned away, but there were people everywhere. The explosion had drawn a crowd, and it was growing. A police siren was approaching.
Yoshiko ran over to Masa and clung to the back of his jacket. She was shaking. Her entire body had been soaked by the cold rain. Until then, she hadn’t even noticed.
“What’s your story?”
After classes, Shoko had hopped into the passenger seat like everything was fine, then dropped this one on Shindo out of nowhere.
“Huh?” asked Shindo. Genuinely confused. Next on the docket for the day was Shoko’s private English lesson. An older lady, the wife of a former diplomat, gave her one-on-one instruction at her baroque mansion in Koenji. That place was special. At most of Shoko’s classes, Shindo parked outside and waited in the car like a detective on a stakeout, but for these lessons she was asked to come into the parlor and was treated to a cup of tea and a nice piece of what tasted like expensive cake. Not bad.
“Don’t give me huh. I want an answer. What’s the deal? How am I supposed to feel safe with a woman for a bodyguard? You can’t be as strong as a man. Why would my father hire a nobody like you to protect me?”
