mission report for g_esquared (part 4 of 7)
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OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL ONE - EVENING NEWS BROADCAST
FREEDOM SEGMENT
AIRED 19 MAY 2012 - 23:18-23:27
MURAO NOBUTAKA, ANCHOR: We turn to Sakurai Sho with the Freedom segment of our broadcast. Sakurai-san, how are you doing this evening?
SAKURAI SHO, CORRESPONDENT: I'm doing well, Murao-san. We live in a country that continues to enjoy peace and prosperity, how could I not be?
MURAO: Absolutely. And what heroes do we have to thank for that enduring peace this evening?
SAKURAI: One hundred brave men and women. In less than forty minutes another group of heroes will join those who came before them. Tonight I'd like to highlight the contributions of one of yesterday's heroes, Ariake Yukihiro-san.
(BEGIN PHOTO MONTAGE)
SAKURAI: (narration) Ariake Yukihiro-san was born and raised in Tokyo. Ariake-san was a pillar of the community in Ota Ward where his family restaurant Ariake is well-known for a very special dish...
---
It had been a while since the whole family had been around the dinner table. Maybe not since his grandmother had come for a visit around New Year's. Usually the family went out to see her, but this year had been an exception. His grandmother had begged for the chance to observe her grandson in action on the news, and she'd sat there properly in her best kimono, all dolled up as Sho delivered his segment of the evening broadcast. He doubted she'd have the strength to get to Tokyo again, and it had probably been the only time in his years of the Freedom segment that he'd actually been proud of the work he'd accomplished.
But tonight there was no grandmother, just his sister in a bit of a snit because her company was undergoing some downsizing and a few of her friends had been let go. His younger brother was starting his university hunt in earnest, begging leave from the table to go "research some proper schools." Then again, Sho had used the same excuse back in the day and had spent the rest of his evenings on porn sites that the government hadn't managed to completely shut down yet.
After dinner, his mother and sister cleared the table. Usually the whole family did it together, but it seemed that everyone knew tonight was somewhat special because Sho was joining them and not just for a holiday. He followed his father from the dining room, past the old hulking grandfather clock in the hall. His father opened the sliding door that led into the yard, and even in the dim haze of the garden lanterns he could see that some of his mother's flowers were already in bloom.
It wasn't a chilly night, but his father usually seemed to prefer the comforts of his study in the evening rather than the garden. His father slipped on a pair of rubber shoes his mother used for gardening and sat down on one of the wooden chairs on the patio, sighing as he did so. Sho slid the door shut behind him, slipping on another pair of garden shoes to sit in the chair directly across from him. Completely outside. If there were listening devices inside the house, they'd be picking up the sounds of dishes being rinsed and slid into the dishwasher or the sound of his brother's music blaring in his room.
"Been a while since your mother's made anything," his father said with a laugh. "You remember the bentos she used to make?"
To be fair, his mother had always worked full-time regardless of his father's position, and Sho had been happy to receive a homemade lunch at all. But he smiled. "One time she gave us soft-boiled eggs and yakisoba with a packet of mayonnaise."
"I was always a hit in the cafeteria with those bentos," his father admitted, and Sho couldn't help imagining a bunch of members of the government sitting around lunch tables the same as those he'd sat at in high school.
They sat in silence for a few moments. One needed patience with Sakurai Shun, at least when he had big news to share. Every time he'd been promoted within the government, it had taken him a while to get to the point. The added security clearances and with them, the increased security around the house. The occasional government bodyguard checking in on Sho and his siblings at school, at work. If the Risers ever wanted to make a big impression, it would be kidnapping members of the government or their families. Nobody had tried anything that stupid since Sho had been in grade school, and that had been quashed rather quickly.
His father pulled a cigarette pack from his jacket pocket, lighting one up. Sho was glad for the darkness and shadow on the patio. It concealed his surprise quite well. He always thought his father had quit. "Sho, there's something I need to tell you."
He said nothing in reply. His father got halfway through his cigarette before he spoke again. "A celebrity will be entering Paradise Circus soon. Kitagawa Keiko, an actress about your age I think. Her management hasn't notified the press yet."
Sho had heard of her before. He wasn't on the entertainment beat, but she'd been in a dozen movies and dramas by now. And it wasn't so odd to hear this from his father. Government officials got to see the lists before they went out so all details could be cross-checked, addresses confirmed before notifications were sent.
His father dropped the cigarette to the patio cement, crushing it under his shoe. His mother would be furious if she found it later. "You'll be going in with her. Exclusively."
Sho was confused. "In with her? To interview her, you mean?" It had only been a few weeks back that Higashiyama-san had been selected in the lottery, and now another celebrity was being sacrificed. It would undoubtedly be a stirring performance.
"You're going inside. Paradise Circus, you're going in with her."
Sho felt his heart start to race. "Have...have I been...the lottery, have I..."
His father looked deeply pained, hurriedly shaking his head. "No! Oh, Sho-chan, of course not. No!"
"Then what do you mean, dad?"
Sakurai Shun's voice dropped to a whisper. Even outside he was nervous. "It's been decided that we're losing people. This mess with the Chinese premier, with it getting out over the net. That should have been contained, and they know it. The people want transparency, they want to believe that the government is listening to their complaints. People know you, people trust you..."
"They know me but I wouldn't go so far as to..."
"Sho, listen to me. Please."
"I'm listening."
His father's hands were almost shaking. "We're going to show the country what we do. We're going to show everything. The Self-Defense Force is receiving notification tomorrow, as will Channel One. It'll be you, Kitagawa-san, and one cameraman. That's it. They'll see that there are no firing squads, no hangings, no experiments."
Sho sat back in the chair, wide-eyed. Paradise Circus was a secret, had been a secret for nearly 50 years. Everyone pretty much knew that it was on a military installation somewhere in the western part of Tokyo, some even got close enough to snap photos from a distance of high walls topped with barbed wire, nestled in a forest.
"But what about the Chinese government? The Russians? Won't they be angry?"
"The Russians haven't cared for a decade what we do. And the Chinese have no problems if we continue to show numbers. Hell, we could just go into people's houses and strangle them in front of their families, and the Chinese would find it to be enough. But we do it peacefully, with respect and dignity. We're not like other countries, Sho, you must believe me."
He crossed his arms. "But if the Chinese are undergoing change, why are we still executing people? Surely they don't need this empty sacrifice after all these years..."
"Keep your voice down."
"Why me? Why not anyone else? Why not a government team? This could cause an even greater uproar!"
"Why you?" his father asked. "Because you care, Sho. Even if they hate me, hate my party, hate everything in the government. Even if they hate Paradise Circus, they have you. Because every night, you remind them that it's not an empty sacrifice. That these are people, and they're loved. You are their voice. That's why I didn't want you to follow me. That's why I got you where you are. I didn't want you to be hated. I wanted them to trust you."
"Wait a second," he muttered. "Just wait one second...how long have you...did you always..."
His father looked at his feet, gripping the arms of his chair. "We are divided, you see. The government. Half want to keep Paradise closed, the other half want to show it. And this has been going on since I was your age. But there was never a voice. Tamori-san read the names forever, but he was always too cold. You don't realize how much they trust you. So we have your voice, Sho. The half that says no, well, they want us to fail. I think they want a panic. They want it to fail so they can tighten things up for good. It has nothing to do with the Chinese for them. They do this because they like the control."
The government wanted to continue the Paradise Project for their own selfish ends? But what purpose would that serve? "Dad..."
"I'm not like them, Sho. I love this country, I love you. Everything I have done has been out of love, and to protect our country and this family. If that means never-ending Paradise, so be it. If the Chinese say tomorrow to shut it down, so be it."
He was going inside. He was going inside Paradise Circus to see how they'd been executing people for nearly fifty years, since the darkest days after the end of America. All of this was on him. The future of Japan, the future of Paradise, was on him. He felt angry with his father. All these years the man had been grooming him for this? All those smiles across the dinner table, and he'd knowingly been setting Sho up for such an important role?
But his anger subsided when he saw the tears in his father's eyes, the love and trust there.
"Dad," he said, his voice scratchy. "Dad, what happens to you if I fail? What happens if I can't spin this the way you need me to?"
His father got to his feet and headed for the house. "I think you know."
Sho stayed out in the garden alone, listening to the crickets chirp. Yeah, he thought. No pressure.
---
Lieutenant Katori had called ten of them to the command center. They were cleared of their morning duty for the next week, and their positions would be covered. They were in one of the rooms in the bowels of the building, and they sat around a table as a few men in suits from the government, some from Foreign Affairs, some Internal, led the meeting. They were on the joint task force that mandated Paradise policy.
Government officials came by on a regular basis, and they were usually confined to the command center where they observed goings on from the screens in the main security room. But today's meeting was different, Jun could just tell.
Katori sat, looking more serious than Jun had ever seen him, as the government men pulled out dozens of folders and charts marked CONFIDENTIAL and CLASSIFIED. Jun had been granted a fairly high clearance simply because he'd been assigned to Paradise Duty, but he learned quickly enough that these men were probably far over him.
"Ladies and gentlemen, on May 26, a celebrity will be among the guests to Paradise Circus," one of the men explained. They all opened their folders to find Kitagawa Keiko staring back at them. "We are already doubling efforts at Shinjuku in the event of fan misbehavior. However, Kitagawa-san will not be arriving alone."
They turned the page, and Jun was surprised to see the guy on the news who read the names looking back. It wasn't an official Channel One headshot. Instead the picture was taken right from the guy's identity card.
"Sakurai Sho-san from Channel One news will be on the premises all day along with a cameraman who is still being vetted and cleared for security purposes. He has been granted exclusive privileges to accompany Kitagawa-san here on her final day and will be documenting the duration of her stay."
Jun couldn't believe it. Paradise Circus had been running for more than forty-five years, and the press had never been allowed within a mile of the place. Even if Channel One was the closest thing Japan had to a government mouthpiece, this was huge.
"It is logical to expect a bit of a panic or uncooperativeness from the other guests regarding this special treatment. Therefore, you have been selected to coordinate activities with the civilian staff to ensure that the day runs as smoothly as any other regardless of the presence of Sakurai-san's team. In addition, one of you will be responsible for the safety of Kitagawa-san, Sakurai-san, and the Channel One cameraman throughout the day. You will be with them at all times until 1900 hours when Kitagawa-san will report to her room in the Paradise Hotel. Sakurai-san and his crew member will then spend the rest of the evening under watch here at the command center until all rooms have been cleaned."
Katori met his eyes across the room, and Jun nearly jumped out of his seat. Of all the men and women in the room, he'd been on Paradise Duty for the shortest amount of time. And then the man from Foreign Affairs looked at him.
"Corporal Matsumoto Jun?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You have been randomly selected to perform these duties on May 26 and will be personally responsible for the welfare of the guest as well as the men from Channel One. Do you accept these responsibilities?"
What else could he say? He felt everyone in the room staring at him. He imagined one of them being Nino, staring a hole through him. "So they're going to show it then?" Nino would ask him. "They're going to show us all how they die?"
"I accept."
For the remainder of the meeting, they detailed all of the heightened security precautions that would need to be undertaken. The other ninety-nine guests would be tightly monitored and accompanied at all times. Extra security would be added around the Village so no one harassed the staff or allowed any guests to get close.
The meeting adjourned and Katori pulled him aside as the room cleared. "I volunteered," his superior officer admitted. "I didn't want any of you to be burdened like this."
"Sir..."
Katori put a hand on his shoulder. "I know you'll do well, Matsumoto. This is unprecedented, of course, but you've been here long enough to know what to do. Now I'm sure this Sakurai will want to interview you as well. I trust you'll be able to respond to any of his inquiries in a professional manner."
There was a threat in there somewhere, Jun knew. Keep your personal opinions to yourself. Praise Paradise or else keep your mouth shut. We're letting Sakurai in the gate, but he's on our playing field.
"Of course, sir."
Then Katori's smile was back. "Great. Tomorrow you'll get the full tour of the command center. The government has an approved list of areas you can let Sakurai-san see and those you can't. I want the 26th to go as smoothly as any other day around here."
He was going to be on the news now. The whole country would see his face as he followed Kitagawa-san around the grounds. He was going to be the face of Paradise Circus, and he wasn't sure he liked the thought of that very much. He didn't like the thought of Nino sitting in front of the TV at home watching him escort people to their rooms at the Paradise Hotel, Nino watching him hoist a body bag onto a stretcher. Were they going to let Sakurai film that much?
He was technically off-duty for the remainder of the day, but some of the other Ground Unit members who'd been in the meeting were patrolling the grounds already. It was impossible for people like them to arrive for duty and not work. All the guests had minders, so he walked the Midway. The music played on, and an old woman smiled at him from one of the benches where she was enjoying a sno-cone.
From the first day Jun had started Paradise Duty, had seen what really went on here, he'd been sickened by it. He'd grown numb to it over the past several months, but what was the government thinking? Showing the people the hotel, the Midway. Was it really going to ease anyone's mind? Wouldn't a quick death be more merciful? What kind of spin was Sakurai going to put on it? What would Sakurai say about him, blindly following his orders, standing idly by while guests rode the merry-go-round instead of spending their last hours with loved ones?
But then he thought of his family, who'd supported him without complaint even as he'd enlisted when another career might have suited him better. He did it all for them, no matter the cost.
He'd do his job, come what may.
---
The safety of guests is of paramount importance. For our Midway staff, this means keeping your ride areas clean and free of anything that may pose hazardous. For our Hotel staff, this means staying alert and ensuring that all guests on premises are accounted for and under supervision. Know your duties and exercise common sense.
Contact your supervisor in the event of an emergency.
From the Paradise Circus Civilian Employee Manual, Chapter Three: Conduct Around Guests.
---
When he'd first started out at the pool, there'd been a lifeguard chair mounted at the halfway point of the pool as well as a diving board in the deep end. Over time, fewer people had seen much reason to dive so the board had been taken out. Maru had been uncomfortable in the lifeguard chair, he always had. He always said that he didn't like sitting up high and watching the people in the pool. In any other pool, sure, but not this one. He just didn't like the feeling it gave him.
Last year the chair had been removed. Now Ohno sat in a regular plastic lawn chair watching the occasional swimmer do laps or a few teenagers wade around in the shallow end, beaning each other over the head with foam kickboards like they were in the pool in their neighborhood. He had a whistle if things got out of hand, but they rarely did.
He'd relieved Maru at 3:30, half an hour early on account of extra training. There was apparently a VIP coming to Paradise Circus in a few days, and everyone was getting briefed about it. Someone was even going to be filming. Ohno and Maru doubted they'd bother coming to the pool, but all staff had to be on the same page.
It was about 6:30 now, half an hour to go and about fifteen minutes before the pool would close. He had one swimmer, a middle-aged man who'd been doing laps for almost an hour. Ohno had to say he was impressed with the man's abilities. He'd taken few breaks, treading water in the deep end for a few minutes before carrying on.
He watched the man reach the opposite wall, kick off in the other direction. But this time where he usually surfaced to start his backstroke he didn't come up out of the water. Ohno could see him, a shaky blur under the water. He hadn't seemed tired, he'd taken adequate breaks. Hell, he'd even waved and smiled at Ohno a few times. But he still wasn't coming up. Had he hit his head on the wall? Had he run out of steam? Or was it something else entirely?
Ohno hurried out of his chair, sending it skittering across the deck as he headed for the red button on the wall and slammed his palm against it. It would set off a quiet buzzing alarm at the desk, and Murakami would have a team here in moments. But for now, Ohno dove into the pool in frustration. This hadn't happened in a while, and he chastised himself for not paying better attention. He should have seen it coming, shouldn't he?
He made it to the bottom of the pool, getting his arms around the man. He was bigger than Ohno, and he had to use all the strength he had to kick off the bottom and swim them both to the surface. The guy didn't seem to be breathing when they made it to the top and already he could see Yamashita-kun and Yui-chan from the medical team waiting at the edge of the pool. Ohno was trained in CPR, even though he rarely used it, but medical team took precedence in emergencies. They were the best of the best when it came to working without letting personal feelings take over.
He got the man over to the edge of the pool, locking eyes with Yamashita. Together they got the man out of the water, hauling him up and onto his back on the pool deck. Yui-chan was checking for a pulse and Yamashita prepared for chest compressions. Ohno found himself treading water, watching in a daze as the medical team got to work.
He listened to Yamashita count, watched the water droplets on the pool deck. He'd have to mop it up when he closed the pool down. Couldn't leave a slick surface. A few minutes later, he heard a gasp, heard the coughing, listened to Yui-chan's calm voice.
"You're with us, sir. You're with us."
Ohno headed for the ladder, climbing up and out of the pool.
"You're with us, sir," Yui-chan assured the man again, and Ohno felt his hands clench into fists. He helped the medical team get the man onto the gurney they'd rolled in, and the man met his eyes.
You should have just let me drown, those eyes said. In a few hours I'll be dead anyway.
Ohno backed away, nearly tripping over his own feet as Yamashita thanked him for his quick action. "We'll take it from here," they told him. "May as well shut down."
He heard the squeaky wheels head off, Yui-chan's voice assuring the man again and again that he was safe. It had been a long time since the job had made Ohno cry. Then again, it had been a long time since there'd been a suicide attempt right in front of him. He was still soaking wet, heading to the supply closet for his mop. Even as he mopped the pool deck, he was still dripping. He could still see the man in the water. He'd been waving goodbye, hadn't he? He'd been telling Ohno, "so long, that's all for me."
He shook as he tried to mop the water, the puddle that had formed under the man's body as Yamashita and Yui-chan saved his life for no good reason at all. He tossed the mop aside, hearing it thunk against the deck as he ran. No running near the pool, all the signs around him said as he fled, bursting through the shower room door and falling to his knees. It stung when he hit the tile, but it reminded him that he was alive and the man who'd wanted to drown wouldn't be alive for much longer.
He had one month left. Just one month left of this. He was leaving, and Aiba-chan would have to find his own way. He could hear his own sobs echoing off the tile, and he knew what it felt like to be Aiba Masaki, seeing Paradise Circus for the first time with his own eyes. There'd been an Ohno Satoshi like that once, too, who had stood on the Midway and watched as someone unbuckled their seatbelt when the jet coaster reached the top of the lift hill.
He thought he'd quashed that part of Ohno Satoshi nearly ten years ago, thought he'd suppressed that part of himself that felt for these people. He'd been silent for so damn long. He screamed then, ten years of empathy pouring out of him until his throat was raw, and he thought they'd come take him away in a straitjacket. He screamed with everything he had until sound was coming out in a choking, scratchy shriek.
When he heard the shower room door open, he thought it would be Murakami ordering him to see the staff psychologist or the medical team with some mood stabilizing pills. It wasn't Murakami.
"Your uniform," he muttered when Aiba knelt down beside him, wrapping his arms around him. "Your uniform will get wet, and you're on duty!"
Aiba said nothing, laying his head on top of Ohno's own and holding on to him.
"Aiba-chan, your uniform..."
In a month Aiba would still be here in this hell, and Ohno would be out. But even if he was out, he was sure that Paradise would never really be gone.
---
14 August 1962 is a date all Japanese children memorize in school. The textbooks note it as the day the Americans surrendered. It's usually just a date to remember in connection with 1964 and the opening of the Paradise Circus. What the textbooks keep silent about is who exactly surrendered. It's still in the radio transcripts, but the government's had those locked away for decades.
In the last weeks of July that year, the Chinese and the Soviets launched a joint surprise attack on the United States. The country was devastated. All communications extinguished, millions dead in just a few minutes. So who surrendered on the fourteenth of August? Nobody, that's who. There was nobody left. The Japanese government knew that, and it was what set the agreements and our own surrender in motion.
The Japanese would never risk an attack of such magnitude, not after 1945. A single nuclear or chemical attack from either of the Big Two powers would kill millions. Japan would, like the United States, cease to exist. The Big Two needed proof of our willingness to cooperate, to acknowledge their sovereignty. So the Japanese acknowledged the surrender of the Americans and offered up their own terms.
The bombs remained away from Japanese soil in exchange for a symbolic sacrifice, representing those who would have been lost anyway had we provoked the Soviets and Chinese into attacking. Similar arrangements had been made with much of Europe. A peaceful, elegant solution. No radiation, no prolonged suffering, and no loss of infrastructure. The cost? A mere hundred citizens per day. The Paradise Project was justified thusly: the needs of the many took precedent over the needs of the few.
From Our Stories: The History of the Riser Movement, Introduction - Japan Will Rise Again.
---
Post-lottery collections was a lucrative business. Nino had learned as much ten years ago when he was putting the house up for sale along with everything in it. Some of them were dodgier than others. Much of the Osaka and Kobe businesses were bankrolled by the yakuza, and the government had seen little need to intervene there.
At least in Tokyo he had a lot of options, and after almost fifty years, discretion had become a selling point for many of these businesses. That morning he had an appointment with a man named Inagaki who met Nino in a non-descript office building near Tokyo Midtown. The man wore a suit but seemed to pass little judgment on Nino's t-shirt and jeans. Some people consulted lawyers or their banks, but Nino didn't have much to his name and places like these made all the phone calls for you. They canceled credit cards, dealt with your loan shark, hired a moving crew to get things quietly and discretely out of your home as soon as you stepped onto the bus in Shinjuku. It was ideal for people who didn't want to leave their families hanging or for those who were completely alone. Nino thought he was kind of a combination of both.
Inagaki had prepared everything Nino needed to sign in a manila envelope. All he had to do was fill in bank account numbers, stamp them and date them. Inagaki excused himself with a small, polite smile so Nino could examine everything. He and Jun were named jointly on their apartment lease, on an emergency credit card. His name would be quietly removed from the accounts, his other accounts closed or rolled over into another. His personal effects would be boxed up and sold while Jun was at work. No need to leave all those games lying around or any other reminders. Jun could get a complete break.
There were next of kin forms, who to notify of his death. There were options for obituary notices in the paper - Inagaki-san had even drafted a few that noted Nino's birth and death dates, his place of employment, his heroism. He could even arrange for flowers to be sent to the grandparents he never saw, to his aunt's family. There were more expensive packages noted on their website - professional mourners could even be hired if his next of kin chose to hold a funeral.
He designated for all of his money to be transferred to Matsumoto Jun, 30 August 1983, #682620931732 of Tokyo, who would not be notified of this until May 27th. Not that Nino had this surplus of cash or anything, but maybe Jun could finally replace those chairs in the kitchen. The forms asked him to note his relationship to the person receiving all his money. The options were: SPOUSE; CHILD; PARENT; CHARITY; BUSINESS; OTHER FAMILY; FRIEND; OTHER.
He smirked at FRIEND for a few moments before designating OTHER with a quick scratch of the pen.
Everything signed and in order, he opened the door and Inagaki came over, quick and professional. He eyeballed all the paperwork, and if he had any curiosity about Nino's OTHER, he didn't voice it.
"Would you like a copy of everything you've signed today, Ninomiya-san?"
He scratched his head, getting out of his chair with a wave of his hand. "Nah, you'll keep all the copies here?"
"Yes."
"Then I don't need them, it's fine."
"Very well then," Inagaki said, bowing to him respectfully. "You have my card, and someone can be reached twenty-four hours a day in case of last minute changes. Don't hesitate to call. We understand what a difficult time this is."
Said the collections agent to the dead man.
"Thank you," Nino said politely, heading for the exit. He used the public restroom on the ground floor of Midtown Tower to change into slacks, a dress shirt, and tie before taking the elevator up to the Ritz-Carlton on the 45th floor.
He smiled at the woman at the front desk. "Ballroom Three please? I'm here for the Takenaka-Komori wedding. I'm on the list, Ninomiya?"
She confirmed his place there with a polite smile, gesturing to the elevator banks. "One flight up to the 46th floor, Ninomiya-san. Thank you."
He smiled in return. He'd watched enough movies by now that he figured he was just as good an actor as any of the stars. The reception was already in full swing with music playing and the plates cleared. Couples were up dancing, others were going table to table to mingle. So it made it less suspicious for him to wander into the room in search of the father of the bride.
He found Takenaka Naoto at the bar. He was a short man with a gruff voice, and he embraced Nino as soon as he approached. "So happy you could make it!"
The other guests didn't even question his arrival, so pleased was Takenaka-san to see him. This made it easier for the two of them to slip away from the bar area, laughing like old friends until they made it outside to the balcony. It was a fine view, Nino had to admit. He could see Tokyo Tower and the bay beyond from here. Must have cost Takenaka a fortune, but when one's only daughter was getting married it appeared that no expense need be spared.
Once the door was closed, Takenaka was all business. "We've had our eyes on the terminal for the past three weeks," he explained, leaning back against the railing. "Nobody's being allowed jackets. Security is cracking down. They've started looking for pills, knives, anything suspicious. Do you plan to sneak anything in with you?"
Takenaka had been the head of the Yokohama Risers cohort throughout the 80's and 90's before relocating to Tokyo. He was the head of a construction company, and though he'd finally been forced to hold back on donations to the movement because of government prying, his was one of the most respected voices and opinions. Any ops had to be run past him.
"I was thinking a knife in my shoe or taped to my back," he admitted, knowing it was what Takenaka wanted him to say. Nobody knew what to actually expect on the inside. There was always the probability of them having metal detectors. Maybe they'd shoot him on sight.
"Put it in your shoe. In case there's pat downs when you arrive."
There was so much they didn't know, but Nino didn't much care at this point. He wasn't a murderer, but he'd do whatever he could to get a message out, to find a way to communicate with the outside. "We're all praying for your success," Takenaka said, and Nino almost wanted to believe him.
Here he was, just some loser who pressed Play at the local cinema who'd now managed to get everyone's attention. It was an odd feeling, being hailed as a potential hero of the movement. Before he'd been nobody, just another angry youth fed up with the government. Then there'd been his questionable relationship and his refusal to use what he had for the greater good. But now he was a sacrificial lamb, a martyr worthy of admiration and an invite to the wedding of Takenaka Naoto's daughter.
When he was younger, Nino thought it would have been in the government's best interest to rig the lottery, kill off the Risers one hundred at a time until they died out. But here they were almost fifty years later, still around and wanting to fight the unwinnable fight. Surely the government knew or had their suspicions about who was involved. But the potential of something going wrong was too high. They couldn't let a Riser in - they were too unpredictable. No, the government liked to pick people a little more docile once they walked into the slaughterhouse.
But, Nino thought, there was a first time for everything.
---
In a few days the man from Channel One would be coming to Paradise Circus. Aiba hoped that it would make a difference, showing what it was really like on the inside. His parents had raised him to question, to not believe everything the TV said. They weren't dissenters or Risers or anything, but they were smart. Killing people so Japan wouldn't get bombed might have made sense in the 60's, especially when all the pictures of America had been burned into people's minds. But even now the news broadcast every night reminded Japan that it was right to send people to Paradise Circus, that it was the only way to remain free.
He sometimes wondered about the man from the news. He was about Aiba's age, and he imagined that they couldn't be more different from one another. Sakurai Sho was always making those lists of the most eligible bachelors in Japan, though Aiba's mother was a bit more cynical. "Who would want to marry the man who reads the names?" she always said, pitying the sharply dressed newscaster with the handsome face. "He's like the Grim Reaper!"
Sometimes Aiba wondered if Sakurai Sho was just a hologram or a robot, something the government had cooked up. But that was only because Aiba didn't understand how someone could read such sad stuff every night of the week and not just cry. Maybe it was a skill they taught in newscaster school.
He and Ohno were just finishing up second shift, cleaning up the last room they were assigned to. Things had changed between them, at least since that day in the pool. From day one, Aiba had tried to be like Ohno, someone who could get through it all. But he'd learned that no matter how long you'd worked at Paradise Circus, whether it was a month or a decade, the place would always be terrible. And on some days you'd just get a sharper reminder of it.
He thought he'd seen Ohno pocket a letter or two from some of the desks in the rooms that night, maybe a picture. It was reckless and against the rules, and Aiba knew he could be fired simply for not reporting it. But he thought of Ohno in that shower room, his voice completely cracked and screaming like he was the one being killed. He knew Ohno would never report him. So Aiba would never report Ohno in return.
He wondered what Sakurai Sho from the news would be reporting about. Would he help them lift the body bags? Or would he just stand there and watch?
Once Murakami-kun was satisfied, second shift was released. It had taken a little longer tonight on account of two bathroom suicides. That required hazmat gear and more extensive cleaning, though thankfully it had fallen to other employees in the hotel.
He and Ohno took the path down to the Village. It was after 2:00 AM by then, and it was hard to believe that in just five hours it would be starting up again with Naka-san beaming and greeting the guests as though they'd just arrived for the vacation of a lifetime. Ohno weakly whispered good night and headed for his house while Aiba followed Koyama-kun inside (fortunate since Aiba had forgotten his house key).
To his surprise, Shihori was at the kitchen table in the dark, staring out the windows at the courtyard. He'd only been able to tell it was her because of the light in the entryway hall. It was so late, and her shift would be starting in a few hours. Koyama headed up the stairs and out of sight as Aiba entered the kitchen, pulling out one of the chairs to sit beside her.
They didn't speak for a few minutes. All he could do was sit there and stare at her face, the dim glow from the lights in the courtyard keeping her mostly in shadow.
"They killed my friend today," she said quietly, and he held his breath. "She wasn't my best friend or anything, but we went to junior high and high school together. I saw her this morning when I got to the reading room. She was in the lobby, looking the other way. I don't think she saw me at all, and I couldn't say anything."
"Couldn't you have been reassigned?" he asked. "For the day? Conflict of interest?"
She shook her head. "I wouldn't have wanted to. I wanted to be there for her, I wanted to support her. I pulled out some magazines, the kind we always read when we went to the Lawson after school. She was really into One Piece, or she was back then. I set out every volume we have in the reading room. She didn't end up coming, but I did what was in my power. I was ready, just in case she needed me."
"I'm sorry."
"So am I," she said honestly, and when he moved to take her hand, entwining their fingers on the cheap plastic tabletop, she didn't pull away.
They sat for a few minutes more until she squeezed his hand tightly, still staring out at the courtyard. He seemed to understand without words as they got out of the chairs, leaving the dull hum of the kitchen refrigerator behind as they climbed the stairs up to their floor. She needed him, needed to forget for a little while.
She'd left her door unlocked, their hands still connected as she led him inside. He listened to her twist the lock, and then he reached for her, finding her in the dark stillness of the room. Her mouth was soft, and her body softer still when she shrugged her way out of the t-shirt and shorts she'd worn in the kitchen. He was still in his work clothes, and her small fingers brushed his clumsy ones aside, unbuckling his belt and sliding it through the loops.
The dorky sweater vest was next, and she tugged on his tie to pull him closer. He wrapped his arms around her bared shoulders, sliding aside the straps of her bra. He tripped over a few manga volumes on the floor, and she laughed. It was the first bit of happiness he suspected that either of them had enjoyed all day. She helped him out of the rest of his clothes, and they found their way to her bed.
She turned on the small lamp at her bedside table. "I want to see you," she said before kissing him again.
They were surrounded by so much death, so much sadness, so he reveled in life, reveled in her, in the way she closed her eyes and sighed as he kissed his way from her neck to the warm sweetness between her legs. He looked up, resting his cheek on her thigh, seeing her eyes shut tight and laughed at her. "I thought you wanted to see me?"
"Changed my mind the second you went south of my navel, sorry."
"Apology accepted."
They took it slow in a way Aiba was unaccustomed to, having never before realized just how precious times like these could be. Paradise Circus had taught him a great many things. He'd shed so many tears since he'd begun working here, but having her beneath him left him feeling euphoric. The soft curves of her body were the opposite of his lanky limbs, but they seemed to fit together like two puzzle pieces. She couldn't, wouldn't let him go, arching her hips up and against him and humming in his ear until it drove him over the edge.
Even when it was over, he needed to be close to her, trailing his fingers up and down her arms, burying his face against her neck.
"Masaki," she said with a chuckle, stroking his hair. He was sweaty and gross, and she didn't push him away. He'd had girlfriends before who seemed to want him as far away as possible or at least straight off to the shower after they'd had sex, but she just twisted his hair between her fingers. She was too busy testing out the sound of his name on her tongue. "Ma-sa-ki."
"Am I too heavy?" he mumbled against her skin, trying to hold in a yawn.
She laughed, and he felt her whole body shake beneath him.
"What?" he asked, poking her. "What did I say?"
"Nothing," she said. He perked up his head, seeing how swollen her lips were from his kisses. "Nothing."
"Do you want me to go back to my room? You have to be up early..."
"Do you want to go back to your room?"
"Nope." He moved so he could curl up behind her, hand circling around her waist as they tried to get comfortable on her single mattress. "But I snore. Maybe I should have said that before...sorry."
"I snore, too. Maybe we could make it a competition." She leaned over to turn off the light, pulling her sheet up to cover them both. "Are you falling asleep on me already?"
She fit against him perfectly, and he didn't want to move a muscle. "...yes."
"I guess I can forgive you," she said, yawning herself. "I'm a nice person that way."
"Mmm," he said, moving his hand down her abdomen. "Yes, very nice. Shihori is the nicest."
"You're not allowed to fall asleep with your hand there."
"I'm not?" he asked, disobeying her anyway.
"You're awful," he heard her mumble, heard her sharp intake of breath. "Really awful."
He just grinned and fluttered his fingers against her, letting the sounds of her happiness carry him off to sleep.
Continue to Part 5
OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT
CHANNEL ONE - EVENING NEWS BROADCAST
FREEDOM SEGMENT
AIRED 19 MAY 2012 - 23:18-23:27
MURAO NOBUTAKA, ANCHOR: We turn to Sakurai Sho with the Freedom segment of our broadcast. Sakurai-san, how are you doing this evening?
SAKURAI SHO, CORRESPONDENT: I'm doing well, Murao-san. We live in a country that continues to enjoy peace and prosperity, how could I not be?
MURAO: Absolutely. And what heroes do we have to thank for that enduring peace this evening?
SAKURAI: One hundred brave men and women. In less than forty minutes another group of heroes will join those who came before them. Tonight I'd like to highlight the contributions of one of yesterday's heroes, Ariake Yukihiro-san.
(BEGIN PHOTO MONTAGE)
SAKURAI: (narration) Ariake Yukihiro-san was born and raised in Tokyo. Ariake-san was a pillar of the community in Ota Ward where his family restaurant Ariake is well-known for a very special dish...
---
It had been a while since the whole family had been around the dinner table. Maybe not since his grandmother had come for a visit around New Year's. Usually the family went out to see her, but this year had been an exception. His grandmother had begged for the chance to observe her grandson in action on the news, and she'd sat there properly in her best kimono, all dolled up as Sho delivered his segment of the evening broadcast. He doubted she'd have the strength to get to Tokyo again, and it had probably been the only time in his years of the Freedom segment that he'd actually been proud of the work he'd accomplished.
But tonight there was no grandmother, just his sister in a bit of a snit because her company was undergoing some downsizing and a few of her friends had been let go. His younger brother was starting his university hunt in earnest, begging leave from the table to go "research some proper schools." Then again, Sho had used the same excuse back in the day and had spent the rest of his evenings on porn sites that the government hadn't managed to completely shut down yet.
After dinner, his mother and sister cleared the table. Usually the whole family did it together, but it seemed that everyone knew tonight was somewhat special because Sho was joining them and not just for a holiday. He followed his father from the dining room, past the old hulking grandfather clock in the hall. His father opened the sliding door that led into the yard, and even in the dim haze of the garden lanterns he could see that some of his mother's flowers were already in bloom.
It wasn't a chilly night, but his father usually seemed to prefer the comforts of his study in the evening rather than the garden. His father slipped on a pair of rubber shoes his mother used for gardening and sat down on one of the wooden chairs on the patio, sighing as he did so. Sho slid the door shut behind him, slipping on another pair of garden shoes to sit in the chair directly across from him. Completely outside. If there were listening devices inside the house, they'd be picking up the sounds of dishes being rinsed and slid into the dishwasher or the sound of his brother's music blaring in his room.
"Been a while since your mother's made anything," his father said with a laugh. "You remember the bentos she used to make?"
To be fair, his mother had always worked full-time regardless of his father's position, and Sho had been happy to receive a homemade lunch at all. But he smiled. "One time she gave us soft-boiled eggs and yakisoba with a packet of mayonnaise."
"I was always a hit in the cafeteria with those bentos," his father admitted, and Sho couldn't help imagining a bunch of members of the government sitting around lunch tables the same as those he'd sat at in high school.
They sat in silence for a few moments. One needed patience with Sakurai Shun, at least when he had big news to share. Every time he'd been promoted within the government, it had taken him a while to get to the point. The added security clearances and with them, the increased security around the house. The occasional government bodyguard checking in on Sho and his siblings at school, at work. If the Risers ever wanted to make a big impression, it would be kidnapping members of the government or their families. Nobody had tried anything that stupid since Sho had been in grade school, and that had been quashed rather quickly.
His father pulled a cigarette pack from his jacket pocket, lighting one up. Sho was glad for the darkness and shadow on the patio. It concealed his surprise quite well. He always thought his father had quit. "Sho, there's something I need to tell you."
He said nothing in reply. His father got halfway through his cigarette before he spoke again. "A celebrity will be entering Paradise Circus soon. Kitagawa Keiko, an actress about your age I think. Her management hasn't notified the press yet."
Sho had heard of her before. He wasn't on the entertainment beat, but she'd been in a dozen movies and dramas by now. And it wasn't so odd to hear this from his father. Government officials got to see the lists before they went out so all details could be cross-checked, addresses confirmed before notifications were sent.
His father dropped the cigarette to the patio cement, crushing it under his shoe. His mother would be furious if she found it later. "You'll be going in with her. Exclusively."
Sho was confused. "In with her? To interview her, you mean?" It had only been a few weeks back that Higashiyama-san had been selected in the lottery, and now another celebrity was being sacrificed. It would undoubtedly be a stirring performance.
"You're going inside. Paradise Circus, you're going in with her."
Sho felt his heart start to race. "Have...have I been...the lottery, have I..."
His father looked deeply pained, hurriedly shaking his head. "No! Oh, Sho-chan, of course not. No!"
"Then what do you mean, dad?"
Sakurai Shun's voice dropped to a whisper. Even outside he was nervous. "It's been decided that we're losing people. This mess with the Chinese premier, with it getting out over the net. That should have been contained, and they know it. The people want transparency, they want to believe that the government is listening to their complaints. People know you, people trust you..."
"They know me but I wouldn't go so far as to..."
"Sho, listen to me. Please."
"I'm listening."
His father's hands were almost shaking. "We're going to show the country what we do. We're going to show everything. The Self-Defense Force is receiving notification tomorrow, as will Channel One. It'll be you, Kitagawa-san, and one cameraman. That's it. They'll see that there are no firing squads, no hangings, no experiments."
Sho sat back in the chair, wide-eyed. Paradise Circus was a secret, had been a secret for nearly 50 years. Everyone pretty much knew that it was on a military installation somewhere in the western part of Tokyo, some even got close enough to snap photos from a distance of high walls topped with barbed wire, nestled in a forest.
"But what about the Chinese government? The Russians? Won't they be angry?"
"The Russians haven't cared for a decade what we do. And the Chinese have no problems if we continue to show numbers. Hell, we could just go into people's houses and strangle them in front of their families, and the Chinese would find it to be enough. But we do it peacefully, with respect and dignity. We're not like other countries, Sho, you must believe me."
He crossed his arms. "But if the Chinese are undergoing change, why are we still executing people? Surely they don't need this empty sacrifice after all these years..."
"Keep your voice down."
"Why me? Why not anyone else? Why not a government team? This could cause an even greater uproar!"
"Why you?" his father asked. "Because you care, Sho. Even if they hate me, hate my party, hate everything in the government. Even if they hate Paradise Circus, they have you. Because every night, you remind them that it's not an empty sacrifice. That these are people, and they're loved. You are their voice. That's why I didn't want you to follow me. That's why I got you where you are. I didn't want you to be hated. I wanted them to trust you."
"Wait a second," he muttered. "Just wait one second...how long have you...did you always..."
His father looked at his feet, gripping the arms of his chair. "We are divided, you see. The government. Half want to keep Paradise closed, the other half want to show it. And this has been going on since I was your age. But there was never a voice. Tamori-san read the names forever, but he was always too cold. You don't realize how much they trust you. So we have your voice, Sho. The half that says no, well, they want us to fail. I think they want a panic. They want it to fail so they can tighten things up for good. It has nothing to do with the Chinese for them. They do this because they like the control."
The government wanted to continue the Paradise Project for their own selfish ends? But what purpose would that serve? "Dad..."
"I'm not like them, Sho. I love this country, I love you. Everything I have done has been out of love, and to protect our country and this family. If that means never-ending Paradise, so be it. If the Chinese say tomorrow to shut it down, so be it."
He was going inside. He was going inside Paradise Circus to see how they'd been executing people for nearly fifty years, since the darkest days after the end of America. All of this was on him. The future of Japan, the future of Paradise, was on him. He felt angry with his father. All these years the man had been grooming him for this? All those smiles across the dinner table, and he'd knowingly been setting Sho up for such an important role?
But his anger subsided when he saw the tears in his father's eyes, the love and trust there.
"Dad," he said, his voice scratchy. "Dad, what happens to you if I fail? What happens if I can't spin this the way you need me to?"
His father got to his feet and headed for the house. "I think you know."
Sho stayed out in the garden alone, listening to the crickets chirp. Yeah, he thought. No pressure.
---
Lieutenant Katori had called ten of them to the command center. They were cleared of their morning duty for the next week, and their positions would be covered. They were in one of the rooms in the bowels of the building, and they sat around a table as a few men in suits from the government, some from Foreign Affairs, some Internal, led the meeting. They were on the joint task force that mandated Paradise policy.
Government officials came by on a regular basis, and they were usually confined to the command center where they observed goings on from the screens in the main security room. But today's meeting was different, Jun could just tell.
Katori sat, looking more serious than Jun had ever seen him, as the government men pulled out dozens of folders and charts marked CONFIDENTIAL and CLASSIFIED. Jun had been granted a fairly high clearance simply because he'd been assigned to Paradise Duty, but he learned quickly enough that these men were probably far over him.
"Ladies and gentlemen, on May 26, a celebrity will be among the guests to Paradise Circus," one of the men explained. They all opened their folders to find Kitagawa Keiko staring back at them. "We are already doubling efforts at Shinjuku in the event of fan misbehavior. However, Kitagawa-san will not be arriving alone."
They turned the page, and Jun was surprised to see the guy on the news who read the names looking back. It wasn't an official Channel One headshot. Instead the picture was taken right from the guy's identity card.
"Sakurai Sho-san from Channel One news will be on the premises all day along with a cameraman who is still being vetted and cleared for security purposes. He has been granted exclusive privileges to accompany Kitagawa-san here on her final day and will be documenting the duration of her stay."
Jun couldn't believe it. Paradise Circus had been running for more than forty-five years, and the press had never been allowed within a mile of the place. Even if Channel One was the closest thing Japan had to a government mouthpiece, this was huge.
"It is logical to expect a bit of a panic or uncooperativeness from the other guests regarding this special treatment. Therefore, you have been selected to coordinate activities with the civilian staff to ensure that the day runs as smoothly as any other regardless of the presence of Sakurai-san's team. In addition, one of you will be responsible for the safety of Kitagawa-san, Sakurai-san, and the Channel One cameraman throughout the day. You will be with them at all times until 1900 hours when Kitagawa-san will report to her room in the Paradise Hotel. Sakurai-san and his crew member will then spend the rest of the evening under watch here at the command center until all rooms have been cleaned."
Katori met his eyes across the room, and Jun nearly jumped out of his seat. Of all the men and women in the room, he'd been on Paradise Duty for the shortest amount of time. And then the man from Foreign Affairs looked at him.
"Corporal Matsumoto Jun?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You have been randomly selected to perform these duties on May 26 and will be personally responsible for the welfare of the guest as well as the men from Channel One. Do you accept these responsibilities?"
What else could he say? He felt everyone in the room staring at him. He imagined one of them being Nino, staring a hole through him. "So they're going to show it then?" Nino would ask him. "They're going to show us all how they die?"
"I accept."
For the remainder of the meeting, they detailed all of the heightened security precautions that would need to be undertaken. The other ninety-nine guests would be tightly monitored and accompanied at all times. Extra security would be added around the Village so no one harassed the staff or allowed any guests to get close.
The meeting adjourned and Katori pulled him aside as the room cleared. "I volunteered," his superior officer admitted. "I didn't want any of you to be burdened like this."
"Sir..."
Katori put a hand on his shoulder. "I know you'll do well, Matsumoto. This is unprecedented, of course, but you've been here long enough to know what to do. Now I'm sure this Sakurai will want to interview you as well. I trust you'll be able to respond to any of his inquiries in a professional manner."
There was a threat in there somewhere, Jun knew. Keep your personal opinions to yourself. Praise Paradise or else keep your mouth shut. We're letting Sakurai in the gate, but he's on our playing field.
"Of course, sir."
Then Katori's smile was back. "Great. Tomorrow you'll get the full tour of the command center. The government has an approved list of areas you can let Sakurai-san see and those you can't. I want the 26th to go as smoothly as any other day around here."
He was going to be on the news now. The whole country would see his face as he followed Kitagawa-san around the grounds. He was going to be the face of Paradise Circus, and he wasn't sure he liked the thought of that very much. He didn't like the thought of Nino sitting in front of the TV at home watching him escort people to their rooms at the Paradise Hotel, Nino watching him hoist a body bag onto a stretcher. Were they going to let Sakurai film that much?
He was technically off-duty for the remainder of the day, but some of the other Ground Unit members who'd been in the meeting were patrolling the grounds already. It was impossible for people like them to arrive for duty and not work. All the guests had minders, so he walked the Midway. The music played on, and an old woman smiled at him from one of the benches where she was enjoying a sno-cone.
From the first day Jun had started Paradise Duty, had seen what really went on here, he'd been sickened by it. He'd grown numb to it over the past several months, but what was the government thinking? Showing the people the hotel, the Midway. Was it really going to ease anyone's mind? Wouldn't a quick death be more merciful? What kind of spin was Sakurai going to put on it? What would Sakurai say about him, blindly following his orders, standing idly by while guests rode the merry-go-round instead of spending their last hours with loved ones?
But then he thought of his family, who'd supported him without complaint even as he'd enlisted when another career might have suited him better. He did it all for them, no matter the cost.
He'd do his job, come what may.
---
The safety of guests is of paramount importance. For our Midway staff, this means keeping your ride areas clean and free of anything that may pose hazardous. For our Hotel staff, this means staying alert and ensuring that all guests on premises are accounted for and under supervision. Know your duties and exercise common sense.
Contact your supervisor in the event of an emergency.
From the Paradise Circus Civilian Employee Manual, Chapter Three: Conduct Around Guests.
---
When he'd first started out at the pool, there'd been a lifeguard chair mounted at the halfway point of the pool as well as a diving board in the deep end. Over time, fewer people had seen much reason to dive so the board had been taken out. Maru had been uncomfortable in the lifeguard chair, he always had. He always said that he didn't like sitting up high and watching the people in the pool. In any other pool, sure, but not this one. He just didn't like the feeling it gave him.
Last year the chair had been removed. Now Ohno sat in a regular plastic lawn chair watching the occasional swimmer do laps or a few teenagers wade around in the shallow end, beaning each other over the head with foam kickboards like they were in the pool in their neighborhood. He had a whistle if things got out of hand, but they rarely did.
He'd relieved Maru at 3:30, half an hour early on account of extra training. There was apparently a VIP coming to Paradise Circus in a few days, and everyone was getting briefed about it. Someone was even going to be filming. Ohno and Maru doubted they'd bother coming to the pool, but all staff had to be on the same page.
It was about 6:30 now, half an hour to go and about fifteen minutes before the pool would close. He had one swimmer, a middle-aged man who'd been doing laps for almost an hour. Ohno had to say he was impressed with the man's abilities. He'd taken few breaks, treading water in the deep end for a few minutes before carrying on.
He watched the man reach the opposite wall, kick off in the other direction. But this time where he usually surfaced to start his backstroke he didn't come up out of the water. Ohno could see him, a shaky blur under the water. He hadn't seemed tired, he'd taken adequate breaks. Hell, he'd even waved and smiled at Ohno a few times. But he still wasn't coming up. Had he hit his head on the wall? Had he run out of steam? Or was it something else entirely?
Ohno hurried out of his chair, sending it skittering across the deck as he headed for the red button on the wall and slammed his palm against it. It would set off a quiet buzzing alarm at the desk, and Murakami would have a team here in moments. But for now, Ohno dove into the pool in frustration. This hadn't happened in a while, and he chastised himself for not paying better attention. He should have seen it coming, shouldn't he?
He made it to the bottom of the pool, getting his arms around the man. He was bigger than Ohno, and he had to use all the strength he had to kick off the bottom and swim them both to the surface. The guy didn't seem to be breathing when they made it to the top and already he could see Yamashita-kun and Yui-chan from the medical team waiting at the edge of the pool. Ohno was trained in CPR, even though he rarely used it, but medical team took precedence in emergencies. They were the best of the best when it came to working without letting personal feelings take over.
He got the man over to the edge of the pool, locking eyes with Yamashita. Together they got the man out of the water, hauling him up and onto his back on the pool deck. Yui-chan was checking for a pulse and Yamashita prepared for chest compressions. Ohno found himself treading water, watching in a daze as the medical team got to work.
He listened to Yamashita count, watched the water droplets on the pool deck. He'd have to mop it up when he closed the pool down. Couldn't leave a slick surface. A few minutes later, he heard a gasp, heard the coughing, listened to Yui-chan's calm voice.
"You're with us, sir. You're with us."
Ohno headed for the ladder, climbing up and out of the pool.
"You're with us, sir," Yui-chan assured the man again, and Ohno felt his hands clench into fists. He helped the medical team get the man onto the gurney they'd rolled in, and the man met his eyes.
You should have just let me drown, those eyes said. In a few hours I'll be dead anyway.
Ohno backed away, nearly tripping over his own feet as Yamashita thanked him for his quick action. "We'll take it from here," they told him. "May as well shut down."
He heard the squeaky wheels head off, Yui-chan's voice assuring the man again and again that he was safe. It had been a long time since the job had made Ohno cry. Then again, it had been a long time since there'd been a suicide attempt right in front of him. He was still soaking wet, heading to the supply closet for his mop. Even as he mopped the pool deck, he was still dripping. He could still see the man in the water. He'd been waving goodbye, hadn't he? He'd been telling Ohno, "so long, that's all for me."
He shook as he tried to mop the water, the puddle that had formed under the man's body as Yamashita and Yui-chan saved his life for no good reason at all. He tossed the mop aside, hearing it thunk against the deck as he ran. No running near the pool, all the signs around him said as he fled, bursting through the shower room door and falling to his knees. It stung when he hit the tile, but it reminded him that he was alive and the man who'd wanted to drown wouldn't be alive for much longer.
He had one month left. Just one month left of this. He was leaving, and Aiba-chan would have to find his own way. He could hear his own sobs echoing off the tile, and he knew what it felt like to be Aiba Masaki, seeing Paradise Circus for the first time with his own eyes. There'd been an Ohno Satoshi like that once, too, who had stood on the Midway and watched as someone unbuckled their seatbelt when the jet coaster reached the top of the lift hill.
He thought he'd quashed that part of Ohno Satoshi nearly ten years ago, thought he'd suppressed that part of himself that felt for these people. He'd been silent for so damn long. He screamed then, ten years of empathy pouring out of him until his throat was raw, and he thought they'd come take him away in a straitjacket. He screamed with everything he had until sound was coming out in a choking, scratchy shriek.
When he heard the shower room door open, he thought it would be Murakami ordering him to see the staff psychologist or the medical team with some mood stabilizing pills. It wasn't Murakami.
"Your uniform," he muttered when Aiba knelt down beside him, wrapping his arms around him. "Your uniform will get wet, and you're on duty!"
Aiba said nothing, laying his head on top of Ohno's own and holding on to him.
"Aiba-chan, your uniform..."
In a month Aiba would still be here in this hell, and Ohno would be out. But even if he was out, he was sure that Paradise would never really be gone.
---
14 August 1962 is a date all Japanese children memorize in school. The textbooks note it as the day the Americans surrendered. It's usually just a date to remember in connection with 1964 and the opening of the Paradise Circus. What the textbooks keep silent about is who exactly surrendered. It's still in the radio transcripts, but the government's had those locked away for decades.
In the last weeks of July that year, the Chinese and the Soviets launched a joint surprise attack on the United States. The country was devastated. All communications extinguished, millions dead in just a few minutes. So who surrendered on the fourteenth of August? Nobody, that's who. There was nobody left. The Japanese government knew that, and it was what set the agreements and our own surrender in motion.
The Japanese would never risk an attack of such magnitude, not after 1945. A single nuclear or chemical attack from either of the Big Two powers would kill millions. Japan would, like the United States, cease to exist. The Big Two needed proof of our willingness to cooperate, to acknowledge their sovereignty. So the Japanese acknowledged the surrender of the Americans and offered up their own terms.
The bombs remained away from Japanese soil in exchange for a symbolic sacrifice, representing those who would have been lost anyway had we provoked the Soviets and Chinese into attacking. Similar arrangements had been made with much of Europe. A peaceful, elegant solution. No radiation, no prolonged suffering, and no loss of infrastructure. The cost? A mere hundred citizens per day. The Paradise Project was justified thusly: the needs of the many took precedent over the needs of the few.
From Our Stories: The History of the Riser Movement, Introduction - Japan Will Rise Again.
---
Post-lottery collections was a lucrative business. Nino had learned as much ten years ago when he was putting the house up for sale along with everything in it. Some of them were dodgier than others. Much of the Osaka and Kobe businesses were bankrolled by the yakuza, and the government had seen little need to intervene there.
At least in Tokyo he had a lot of options, and after almost fifty years, discretion had become a selling point for many of these businesses. That morning he had an appointment with a man named Inagaki who met Nino in a non-descript office building near Tokyo Midtown. The man wore a suit but seemed to pass little judgment on Nino's t-shirt and jeans. Some people consulted lawyers or their banks, but Nino didn't have much to his name and places like these made all the phone calls for you. They canceled credit cards, dealt with your loan shark, hired a moving crew to get things quietly and discretely out of your home as soon as you stepped onto the bus in Shinjuku. It was ideal for people who didn't want to leave their families hanging or for those who were completely alone. Nino thought he was kind of a combination of both.
Inagaki had prepared everything Nino needed to sign in a manila envelope. All he had to do was fill in bank account numbers, stamp them and date them. Inagaki excused himself with a small, polite smile so Nino could examine everything. He and Jun were named jointly on their apartment lease, on an emergency credit card. His name would be quietly removed from the accounts, his other accounts closed or rolled over into another. His personal effects would be boxed up and sold while Jun was at work. No need to leave all those games lying around or any other reminders. Jun could get a complete break.
There were next of kin forms, who to notify of his death. There were options for obituary notices in the paper - Inagaki-san had even drafted a few that noted Nino's birth and death dates, his place of employment, his heroism. He could even arrange for flowers to be sent to the grandparents he never saw, to his aunt's family. There were more expensive packages noted on their website - professional mourners could even be hired if his next of kin chose to hold a funeral.
He designated for all of his money to be transferred to Matsumoto Jun, 30 August 1983, #682620931732 of Tokyo, who would not be notified of this until May 27th. Not that Nino had this surplus of cash or anything, but maybe Jun could finally replace those chairs in the kitchen. The forms asked him to note his relationship to the person receiving all his money. The options were: SPOUSE; CHILD; PARENT; CHARITY; BUSINESS; OTHER FAMILY; FRIEND; OTHER.
He smirked at FRIEND for a few moments before designating OTHER with a quick scratch of the pen.
Everything signed and in order, he opened the door and Inagaki came over, quick and professional. He eyeballed all the paperwork, and if he had any curiosity about Nino's OTHER, he didn't voice it.
"Would you like a copy of everything you've signed today, Ninomiya-san?"
He scratched his head, getting out of his chair with a wave of his hand. "Nah, you'll keep all the copies here?"
"Yes."
"Then I don't need them, it's fine."
"Very well then," Inagaki said, bowing to him respectfully. "You have my card, and someone can be reached twenty-four hours a day in case of last minute changes. Don't hesitate to call. We understand what a difficult time this is."
Said the collections agent to the dead man.
"Thank you," Nino said politely, heading for the exit. He used the public restroom on the ground floor of Midtown Tower to change into slacks, a dress shirt, and tie before taking the elevator up to the Ritz-Carlton on the 45th floor.
He smiled at the woman at the front desk. "Ballroom Three please? I'm here for the Takenaka-Komori wedding. I'm on the list, Ninomiya?"
She confirmed his place there with a polite smile, gesturing to the elevator banks. "One flight up to the 46th floor, Ninomiya-san. Thank you."
He smiled in return. He'd watched enough movies by now that he figured he was just as good an actor as any of the stars. The reception was already in full swing with music playing and the plates cleared. Couples were up dancing, others were going table to table to mingle. So it made it less suspicious for him to wander into the room in search of the father of the bride.
He found Takenaka Naoto at the bar. He was a short man with a gruff voice, and he embraced Nino as soon as he approached. "So happy you could make it!"
The other guests didn't even question his arrival, so pleased was Takenaka-san to see him. This made it easier for the two of them to slip away from the bar area, laughing like old friends until they made it outside to the balcony. It was a fine view, Nino had to admit. He could see Tokyo Tower and the bay beyond from here. Must have cost Takenaka a fortune, but when one's only daughter was getting married it appeared that no expense need be spared.
Once the door was closed, Takenaka was all business. "We've had our eyes on the terminal for the past three weeks," he explained, leaning back against the railing. "Nobody's being allowed jackets. Security is cracking down. They've started looking for pills, knives, anything suspicious. Do you plan to sneak anything in with you?"
Takenaka had been the head of the Yokohama Risers cohort throughout the 80's and 90's before relocating to Tokyo. He was the head of a construction company, and though he'd finally been forced to hold back on donations to the movement because of government prying, his was one of the most respected voices and opinions. Any ops had to be run past him.
"I was thinking a knife in my shoe or taped to my back," he admitted, knowing it was what Takenaka wanted him to say. Nobody knew what to actually expect on the inside. There was always the probability of them having metal detectors. Maybe they'd shoot him on sight.
"Put it in your shoe. In case there's pat downs when you arrive."
There was so much they didn't know, but Nino didn't much care at this point. He wasn't a murderer, but he'd do whatever he could to get a message out, to find a way to communicate with the outside. "We're all praying for your success," Takenaka said, and Nino almost wanted to believe him.
Here he was, just some loser who pressed Play at the local cinema who'd now managed to get everyone's attention. It was an odd feeling, being hailed as a potential hero of the movement. Before he'd been nobody, just another angry youth fed up with the government. Then there'd been his questionable relationship and his refusal to use what he had for the greater good. But now he was a sacrificial lamb, a martyr worthy of admiration and an invite to the wedding of Takenaka Naoto's daughter.
When he was younger, Nino thought it would have been in the government's best interest to rig the lottery, kill off the Risers one hundred at a time until they died out. But here they were almost fifty years later, still around and wanting to fight the unwinnable fight. Surely the government knew or had their suspicions about who was involved. But the potential of something going wrong was too high. They couldn't let a Riser in - they were too unpredictable. No, the government liked to pick people a little more docile once they walked into the slaughterhouse.
But, Nino thought, there was a first time for everything.
---
In a few days the man from Channel One would be coming to Paradise Circus. Aiba hoped that it would make a difference, showing what it was really like on the inside. His parents had raised him to question, to not believe everything the TV said. They weren't dissenters or Risers or anything, but they were smart. Killing people so Japan wouldn't get bombed might have made sense in the 60's, especially when all the pictures of America had been burned into people's minds. But even now the news broadcast every night reminded Japan that it was right to send people to Paradise Circus, that it was the only way to remain free.
He sometimes wondered about the man from the news. He was about Aiba's age, and he imagined that they couldn't be more different from one another. Sakurai Sho was always making those lists of the most eligible bachelors in Japan, though Aiba's mother was a bit more cynical. "Who would want to marry the man who reads the names?" she always said, pitying the sharply dressed newscaster with the handsome face. "He's like the Grim Reaper!"
Sometimes Aiba wondered if Sakurai Sho was just a hologram or a robot, something the government had cooked up. But that was only because Aiba didn't understand how someone could read such sad stuff every night of the week and not just cry. Maybe it was a skill they taught in newscaster school.
He and Ohno were just finishing up second shift, cleaning up the last room they were assigned to. Things had changed between them, at least since that day in the pool. From day one, Aiba had tried to be like Ohno, someone who could get through it all. But he'd learned that no matter how long you'd worked at Paradise Circus, whether it was a month or a decade, the place would always be terrible. And on some days you'd just get a sharper reminder of it.
He thought he'd seen Ohno pocket a letter or two from some of the desks in the rooms that night, maybe a picture. It was reckless and against the rules, and Aiba knew he could be fired simply for not reporting it. But he thought of Ohno in that shower room, his voice completely cracked and screaming like he was the one being killed. He knew Ohno would never report him. So Aiba would never report Ohno in return.
He wondered what Sakurai Sho from the news would be reporting about. Would he help them lift the body bags? Or would he just stand there and watch?
Once Murakami-kun was satisfied, second shift was released. It had taken a little longer tonight on account of two bathroom suicides. That required hazmat gear and more extensive cleaning, though thankfully it had fallen to other employees in the hotel.
He and Ohno took the path down to the Village. It was after 2:00 AM by then, and it was hard to believe that in just five hours it would be starting up again with Naka-san beaming and greeting the guests as though they'd just arrived for the vacation of a lifetime. Ohno weakly whispered good night and headed for his house while Aiba followed Koyama-kun inside (fortunate since Aiba had forgotten his house key).
To his surprise, Shihori was at the kitchen table in the dark, staring out the windows at the courtyard. He'd only been able to tell it was her because of the light in the entryway hall. It was so late, and her shift would be starting in a few hours. Koyama headed up the stairs and out of sight as Aiba entered the kitchen, pulling out one of the chairs to sit beside her.
They didn't speak for a few minutes. All he could do was sit there and stare at her face, the dim glow from the lights in the courtyard keeping her mostly in shadow.
"They killed my friend today," she said quietly, and he held his breath. "She wasn't my best friend or anything, but we went to junior high and high school together. I saw her this morning when I got to the reading room. She was in the lobby, looking the other way. I don't think she saw me at all, and I couldn't say anything."
"Couldn't you have been reassigned?" he asked. "For the day? Conflict of interest?"
She shook her head. "I wouldn't have wanted to. I wanted to be there for her, I wanted to support her. I pulled out some magazines, the kind we always read when we went to the Lawson after school. She was really into One Piece, or she was back then. I set out every volume we have in the reading room. She didn't end up coming, but I did what was in my power. I was ready, just in case she needed me."
"I'm sorry."
"So am I," she said honestly, and when he moved to take her hand, entwining their fingers on the cheap plastic tabletop, she didn't pull away.
They sat for a few minutes more until she squeezed his hand tightly, still staring out at the courtyard. He seemed to understand without words as they got out of the chairs, leaving the dull hum of the kitchen refrigerator behind as they climbed the stairs up to their floor. She needed him, needed to forget for a little while.
She'd left her door unlocked, their hands still connected as she led him inside. He listened to her twist the lock, and then he reached for her, finding her in the dark stillness of the room. Her mouth was soft, and her body softer still when she shrugged her way out of the t-shirt and shorts she'd worn in the kitchen. He was still in his work clothes, and her small fingers brushed his clumsy ones aside, unbuckling his belt and sliding it through the loops.
The dorky sweater vest was next, and she tugged on his tie to pull him closer. He wrapped his arms around her bared shoulders, sliding aside the straps of her bra. He tripped over a few manga volumes on the floor, and she laughed. It was the first bit of happiness he suspected that either of them had enjoyed all day. She helped him out of the rest of his clothes, and they found their way to her bed.
She turned on the small lamp at her bedside table. "I want to see you," she said before kissing him again.
They were surrounded by so much death, so much sadness, so he reveled in life, reveled in her, in the way she closed her eyes and sighed as he kissed his way from her neck to the warm sweetness between her legs. He looked up, resting his cheek on her thigh, seeing her eyes shut tight and laughed at her. "I thought you wanted to see me?"
"Changed my mind the second you went south of my navel, sorry."
"Apology accepted."
They took it slow in a way Aiba was unaccustomed to, having never before realized just how precious times like these could be. Paradise Circus had taught him a great many things. He'd shed so many tears since he'd begun working here, but having her beneath him left him feeling euphoric. The soft curves of her body were the opposite of his lanky limbs, but they seemed to fit together like two puzzle pieces. She couldn't, wouldn't let him go, arching her hips up and against him and humming in his ear until it drove him over the edge.
Even when it was over, he needed to be close to her, trailing his fingers up and down her arms, burying his face against her neck.
"Masaki," she said with a chuckle, stroking his hair. He was sweaty and gross, and she didn't push him away. He'd had girlfriends before who seemed to want him as far away as possible or at least straight off to the shower after they'd had sex, but she just twisted his hair between her fingers. She was too busy testing out the sound of his name on her tongue. "Ma-sa-ki."
"Am I too heavy?" he mumbled against her skin, trying to hold in a yawn.
She laughed, and he felt her whole body shake beneath him.
"What?" he asked, poking her. "What did I say?"
"Nothing," she said. He perked up his head, seeing how swollen her lips were from his kisses. "Nothing."
"Do you want me to go back to my room? You have to be up early..."
"Do you want to go back to your room?"
"Nope." He moved so he could curl up behind her, hand circling around her waist as they tried to get comfortable on her single mattress. "But I snore. Maybe I should have said that before...sorry."
"I snore, too. Maybe we could make it a competition." She leaned over to turn off the light, pulling her sheet up to cover them both. "Are you falling asleep on me already?"
She fit against him perfectly, and he didn't want to move a muscle. "...yes."
"I guess I can forgive you," she said, yawning herself. "I'm a nice person that way."
"Mmm," he said, moving his hand down her abdomen. "Yes, very nice. Shihori is the nicest."
"You're not allowed to fall asleep with your hand there."
"I'm not?" he asked, disobeying her anyway.
"You're awful," he heard her mumble, heard her sharp intake of breath. "Really awful."
He just grinned and fluttered his fingers against her, letting the sounds of her happiness carry him off to sleep.
Continue to Part 5