Yanagi looked up at Naiki. He was trembling.
“Boss, I’m not sure I . . . understand.”
“Go fetch Masa and that fucking minx. Preferably alive. We have a lot of catching up to do. I’ve waited years to reunite with my dear wife. Understand?”
Naiki was smiling. Placated, for now.
Yanagi worked his lips into a grin.
“There’s just . . . one thing I’d like to ask.”
“What’s that?”
“I was hoping to bring Shindo along. With her help, I’m certain we can bring them back alive. Can’t do the job without her, to be honest.”
Shindo was aghast. What was Yanagi thinking?
Naiki looked at Shindo, then Yanagi, back and forth.
When he finally spoke, his voice was softer.
“Don’t even think of running away. Hear me, Yanagi? If you or that twat over there tries anything funny, you and her, and everyone who works for you, and every person you hold dear, is getting skinned alive and tossed in Tokyo Bay. If you can make it back with Masa and the minx in one piece, though, your lives are spared. Understand?”
Since early morning, the TV had been tuned in to the local news broadcast. Maps of the prefecture filled the screen, with info ribbons at the left and at the bottom forming an L of streaming text about the flood zone and evacuation procedures. The announcers struck a grim tone, saying the same thing in a hundred different ways. Words torn apart by sirens and the rain pounding behind them.
Masa peered outside through a gap in the curtains.
“See anything?” Yoshiko asked.
“Yeah . . . looks like they finally took off.”
Situated at a low point in the valley, overshadowed by the hills, their development was in the middle of the flood zone that had been announced that morning. Water spilling from the roadside gutters hid the ground. It was trickling underneath the floor.
The house was neat and orderly. They owned very little, sticking to the bare essentials so that they could leave at any time. Yoshiko and Masa had changed into sweatshirts and sweatpants for ease of motion and put their sneakers on indoors. At their feet were a backpack and two duffels. Everything. And all of it could be tossed at a moment’s notice. They kept their valuables in pouches at their waists. Across one shoulder, Masa carried a cylindrical tube, the kind used for blueprints.
“Masa.”
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking we could move to someplace warmer. This town was nice, but don’t you think the winters were too cold?”
Yoshiko’s question made Masa smile.
“One thing at a time.”
Sirens wailed. A voice blared from a megaphone, calling all remaining residents to seek shelter at the middle school immediately.
For two days now, reporters from the local news and key stations in Tokyo had been monitoring the house. Neither of them set foot outdoors, or turned on any lights. Using the toilet and the bathtub in the dark, they had survived on white rice and a few jars of tsukemono as they waited for an opportunity. The hard rain was a saving grace.
The TV set they shrouded in a blanket played the same disaster clip ad nauseam, interspersed with sound bites from the father and the girl whose lives they saved, acts of valor earning them distinctions like “Hometown Heroes” and “Super Couple.” Some stations had the decency to pixelate their faces, but the first broadcast revealed them unmistakably.
“Could they really . . . still be after us?” asked Yoshiko. “We’re old now. Lots of changes. They might not even recognize us from the clip. Besides, he could’ve given up . . .”
She flicked the flashlight on. It worked.
“I know how those men operate,” said Masa. “They won’t stop until we’re dead, or they die trying. They’ll follow us into the depths of hell. All in the name of saving face.”
Something in the way that Masa clenched his teeth reminded Yoshiko of who they were when they were young. It was a complicated feeling.
“Well, I’m glad we saved them,” Yoshiko said.
Masa nodded.
“Yeah, seriously. So am I.”
The rain showed no sign of letting up. Headlights panned the yard. They were coming up the road. Vans from the city had been driving by all day, announcing the evacuation. This was different. No friendly sirens. No loudspeakers making announcements.
“Masa,” she said. “What do we do?”
Masa squeezed her hand.
“Not quit.”
Not don’t, but not.
