Black Bullet - Volume 7 - Chapter 2.01

BLACK BULLET 7

CHAPTER 02

THE BULLET THAT CHANGED THE WORLD

1

The winds of war may have been blowing across Tokyo Area, but the weather determinedly refused to play the part. It was gloriously sunny, and Rentaro was constantly surrounded by the symphony of late-summer insects as he walked on.

After seeing Enju off to class and informing Magata High School that he wouldn’t be in today, he wiped the sweat off his brow and immediately took the bus to Magata University Hospital. The receptionist waved him through, and in another moment, he was headed toward Sumire’s laboratory, going down a stairway so steep that it seemed to descend into an abyss. There was one issue he wanted to get straight with himself before he sat down with Litvintsev.

“Doctor, are you—?”

Before he could finish, there was a bang and Rentaro noticed something whizzing through the air toward him.

“Aghh…?!”

He promptly blocked his face. Then he felt something light and fluffy cover his head. He slowly opened his eyes and removed the aluminum casing and shredded paper that had been launched, crumpling it up. In the midst of this, the university’s living ghost story had appeared in front of him, wearing Groucho glasses and a conical party hat. Just like that, she tossed the cracker she’d deployed at Rentaro’s face into the garbage.

“Congratulations, Satomi!”

She pulled a string to her side, opening up a large ball strapped to the ceiling. From it unfurled a banner that read RENTARO SATOMI: CONDOLENCES FOR GETTING DUMPED BY KISARA.

Rentaro could feel himself getting dizzy.

“…Doctor, come on. You weren’t waiting to ambush me just so you could do this, were you?”

“‘Do unto others what annoys them the most.’ The Muroto family motto.”

The woman in the lab coat removed the glasses, the grin behind the fake mustache now glaringly obvious.

“Why did your parents marry each other, Doctor?”

“A mystery that time may never unravel, my friend. Now, then—” Sumire sat down on a chair, about to die of sheer joy. “You got dumped?”

“I didn’t get dumped, Doctor.”

“Well, give me some details, then. I only got the CliffsNotes version over the phone. Don’t be so afraid to ask for help, man. Dr. Muroto, love adviser, at your service!”

She winked, gave the peace sign, and stuck out her tongue. It didn’t exactly befit her age. Rentaro was struck dumb.

“You’ve got enough love experience to advise people, Doctor?”

“Nooooo! The only loves I’ve had in life were all cold and rotting by the time they got carted in here. Even the one man I did love wound up dead at the end of it. So, corpses, mostly. Basically, if they’re breathing, they can go screw themselves, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Does that count for me, too?”

“Uh, yeah? Did you think I had a thing going for you, you piece of garbage? Pfft!”

“Whoa! Don’t spit on me, man!”

Something about the way Sumire used the word dumped made him grit his teeth. Maybe it was because he couldn’t deny it out of hand. From an impartial perspective, it might look that way.

“…What’s the point in asking you for advice, anyway?” Rentaro asked, his heart still reeling.

Sumire shrugged. “Well, is there anything I can help you with?”

“…”

Rentaro brooded to himself as he sat on a stool, staring at the floor. Could he really be honest with Sumire? He ran a finger along his lips. The chill it evoked helped him recall past events with more clarity.

Stopping the Black Swan Project helped mend their frayed relationship beyond all expectation…and it led Rentaro to take just one step forward to close the distance. But what happened next went completely beyond his expectations: Kisara turned completely ashen, started to shake, and, hugging her own body, pushed Rentaro away and ran off.

He thought it was some error on his part at first, but looking back through his memories, that really didn’t seem to be the case. No matter how much he dwelled on it, though, he couldn’t figure it out. Even now, he had no idea why she acted like that. She dodged the question whenever he tried to ask her, leaving his heart feeling like it was hanging in midair.

“I don’t think this is just a matter of a woman’s whimsy or anything,” Sumire said, eyes now serious as she propped her elbow on the table.

“…You aren’t gonna pick on me? Like, ‘You went too fast and started rubbing her assets,’ or anything?”

“Well, if that’s what you want, then sure. But that’s just gonna depress you even more, wouldn’t it? I like to strike a balance, you know? Don’t leave ’em dead, but don’t let ’em live. It wouldn’t be any fun unless you roused yourself back into shape and went at her again, after all.”

She phrased it jokingly, but Rentaro’s heart still found itself lightened. He could feel a thin strand of sympathy between the words. He thanked her internally.

“I think,” he said, “Kisara feels kind of guilty at the idea that she can find happiness in her life.”

“Why?” Sumire grudgingly asked, almost rising off her chair. “Just chill out. You know full well that Kisara got her groove back because she’s using her desire to avenge her parents as an emotional support. It’s been a long time, but I had a chance to look at her medical records back during my practicing days. It was stuff like her insulin dosages, the interviews they conducted when she underwent counseling after her parents were killed, that kind of thing. One thing I remember seeing in there is that she said whenever she feels happiness, it triggers feelings for her dead parents. Apparently she had visions of them every now and then. They’d be standing there like ghosts, and they’d admonish her for leaving them behind. They begged her for revenge.”

“No way…”

It was like the ghostly king from Hamlet. But unlike that apparition, Rentaro could hardly believe that Kisara’s parents, Osamu and Yomiko, would choose those words for their daughter.

“Anyway, I checked it again a while later, and all that material had been struck from her records. The doctor wrote at the end of it that she had gotten over her depression and was ready to tackle life on her own. It was a little too neat and pretty for my tastes. You saw how she got revenge against someone just a bit ago, right? It wouldn’t be weird at all if she’s letting those visions bother her again.”

“…”

Even if it were true, that explanation would never please Rentaro’s heart. He scratched his head to calm down.

“Are you sure you should be giving other people’s medical information to me, Doctor?”

Sumire shrugged. “Don’t go asking a no-good doctor like me for morals, please.”

“Guess I owe you one.”

“Oh, no need to repay the favor. If I started expecting you to repay them at this point, I’d have to get reincarnated before you finally made up the difference. Still, though…” Sumire paused to stretch herself out, arms wide. “We’ve got two Areas ready to declare war on each other, and here you are worrying your little head about love, huh? Are your danger sensors screwed up or something?”

“And what do you think about a war, Doctor?”

“I think it’s a total waste of time. What’s the point of killing one another? We’re all gonna die anyway.” She gave a defiant grin. “None of us can escape it. Sooner or later, it dawns on us all that there’s no point trying to resist death.”

“You’re the same as always, huh?”

Sumire raised her arms up dramatically. “I am simply here to offer praise unto death. Death, you see, is death. People like you, trying to find some deeper emotion or meaning to it—that’s what I don’t understand.”

Rentaro got up off his stool.

“There’s something about this situation I wanted to ask you about, Doctor. Two labs in Russia and Japan were attacked. Someone broke into them and stole two items: Solomon’s Ring and the Scorpion’s Neck.”

Sumire’s eyes twinkled. “Go on.”

He did, telling her everything the Seitenshi said yesterday, having received permission from her to ask Sumire for advice.

“Hmm…Solomon’s Ring, huh? Pretty fancy name for a dumb little translation device.”

Sumire stared blankly into space.

“‘Wise King Solomon talked about animals and birds, reptiles and fish.’ The First Book of Kings from the Old Testament. I think the story about putting on Solomon’s Ring to understand animals came from a mistranslation in another edition or something.”

“Do you know anything about it?”

“No,” she said, her face troubled. “I focused my studies on mechanized soldiers that could fend off Gastrea. I never looked at ways we could tame them or anything. It’s a pretty novel approach, I think, but judging by how incomplete it is, I’m guessing they probably hit a wall somewhere.”

“If you combine that with Scorpion’s vocal cords, though, I think you might be able to give orders to Libra, at least. We can’t just ignore those things.”

“A fair enough thing to keep in mind, true. I’m afraid there’s not much help I can give when it comes to Russian translation devices. But if this stare down between Tokyo and Sendai keeps going, I have a pretty good hunch how it’ll turn out.”

“Full-on war, right?”

“No, even worse,” Sumire barked, like a teacher admonishing a wayward student. “I’m talking worldwide nuclear warfare. World War III.”

Rentaro stared at Sumire, forgetting to breathe for a moment. “Wh-whoa, Doctor,” he managed to spit out. “Haven’t you been watching the news?” He smiled, trying to classify Sumire’s response as a joke. But there was no humor in her stone-cold face.

“Reality, Satomi, is a nightmare that always unfolds one step ahead of where you expect it to. Turn on the TV.”

He grabbed the remote thrown at him, pointed it at the musty old television in one corner, and turned it on. It just barely sputtered into action, the image slowly coming into focus.

It showed a number of ships pushing their way through the waves—cruisers, destroyers, supply boats, all accompanying a much larger battleship piercing its way through the wind. A nuclear carrier, it looked like. No Area in Japan as of 2031 had one in its possession—they simply cost too much to build and maintain. He assumed this was some drama at first, but a familiar news network logo in the corner convinced him otherwise.

The text below told the story. US ACTIVATES NAVAL FLEET: ACCUSES TOKYO AREA OF VIOLATING BIO-WEAPON TREATY. And before Rentaro could recover, the screen switched again, this time showing another fleet—this one apparently from Russia.

“This is the latest footage of the American and Russian fleets as they make their way toward Tokyo Area waters,” a harried-looking commentator said as the studio cameras focused on him. He looked at his wits’ end, and that was the final confirmation Rentaro needed. This was no large-scale practical joke after all.

“What the hell?” he said, turning around. “‘Bio-weapon treaty’…?”

He found Sumire glumly staring at the screen. “Things took a turn for the worse while you were on your way here. That’s an international biological weapons treaty they’re talking about. That’s what they’re probably interpreting the Inheritance of the Seven Stars to be, since it supposedly controls Stage Fives and stuff. The US claims we’re violating that treaty. They’re demanding inspections in all Areas, including the palace in Tokyo Area. I’m sure we’ll refuse, but…”

“Why’re foreign nations getting involved? It’s just between the two Areas.”

Sumire gave Rentaro a commiserative look. “On the surface, it’s because Tokyo Area asked its allies for help. Russia, the UK, France—they’ve got priority Varanium-supply relationships with those countries. Why do they ask for help? Because Sendai’s asked for help from its own allies in the US, Australia, and China, of course. The real reason for this, though, is a little different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Any type of natural resource dug up from the ground is inevitably distributed across planet Earth in an uneven fashion. Africa’s got gold and diamonds; the Middle East has oil; that sort of thing. And in the case of Varanium, the top nation just happens to be Japan. Tokyo Area alone produces thirty-one percent of the world’s Varanium supply. Sendai Area has sixteen percent. If Sendai fell apart and Tokyo managed to expand its territory—and, with that, their mining rights—that’s almost half the Varanium in the world, right in their hands. And it’s the same deal vice versa. If Sendai decides to open fire on Tokyo before Libra releases its viral sacs—let me remind you, an exhausted Tokyo after fending off both Scorpion and Aldebaran—then bam, they’ve got an oligopoly on forty-seven percent of the world supply. And do you know what that would mean?”

“No…?” Rentaro replied, voice clearly nervous.

“We all need Varanium to survive. It’s used to build our Monoliths, not to mention our weapons and ammo. If a single nation controlled half the world’s supply, it could basically name its price for the stuff.”

Rentaro made a startled gasp.

“They see what’s going on with the other nations, too. For example, let’s say that Tokyo Area had to rely on imports for one hundred percent of its food. If the other Areas decided to ban exports to Tokyo, we’d pretty much have to be their lapdogs. Even if they set the prices sky-high, we’d still have to buy it, right? So depending on how this little skirmish between two Far East city-states works out, one of us might wind up controlling the very fates of the rest of the world. That’s something other nations would like to avoid at all costs. It sounds like the US and Russia have their fingers on the nuclear buttons right now, but the fact that grown-ups like that are getting involved with this playground squabble has everything to do with Tokyo’s untapped resources. It’s a curse, in a way.”

“But isn’t there a noninterference treaty between the Areas or anything?”

“Not really. The five Areas of Japan are treated as independent nations, after all.”

Rentaro quickly searched his head for something to counter with. It was proving to be a struggle.

“Well… Well, so won’t the UN do anything? That’s their job, isn’t it, to step in between conflicts like this?”

Sumire shrugged, like she’d known this was coming. “The UN’s been pretty much dysfunctional ever since the Gastrea came along. And even if they weren’t, what could they do? It’s not like they could stop the Cold War from happening. That’s what the twentieth century should’ve taught us all—once things get too big, it’s beyond anyone’s ability to stop it.”

The TV now showed a set of pundits, each wailing in their own creative way about Japan’s current uncertain future.

“Satomi,” Sumire said, voice more gentle now, “you’ve probably read about World War I in your history book, haven’t you? Do you know why that war happened in the first place?”

Rentaro shook his head, lost.

“On June 28, 1914, a young Serbian man involved in a clandestine terror organization just happened to come across a car carrying an Austrian archduke that had taken a wrong turn in Sarajevo. He took the chance to shoot the guy down, and the fallout made the already-unsteady relationships between the European nations, Turkey, and Russia even worse. That led to World War I, and well over ten million people died because of it. And look at the Battle of Lexington. That was fought outside of Boston on April 19, 1775. The US colonies didn’t have the nerve to stage a full revolution against Britain yet, and when the American commander saw British troops advancing, he was within seconds of giving the retreat order. But then someone or other fired a shot, and all hell broke loose. The proverbial shot heard ’round the world—nobody knows who shot it, but there you go. The bullet from the Serbian, the bullet in Lexington—both of those trigger pulls changed the world.”

“…What are you getting at?”

“I’m saying, once things go all the way to the very edge, all it takes is a single bullet to start a war. And once it starts, it won’t stop until an astonishing number of people are dead. Right now, Tokyo Area and Sendai Area are both fanning the flames—closing their embassies and their airports. If that’s not playing it on the brink, I don’t know what is. All it’d take is one more bullet. It’s a lot more serious than you could ever imagine.”

Sumire placed both elbows on the desk and put her chin on her crossed arms.

“Satomi, you need to start negotiating with Andrei Litvintsev as soon as possible. You’re the only one left with any control over this. Don’t let anyone fire another bullet that changes the world.”

Then she grinned, as if recalling a joke.

“The fate of the world might be resting on your shoulders right now.”