4.
Anyone else would’ve jumped at the chance, but something in his words cut deep. The promise of heroism dangled over my head like a sword on a crimson thread. Icy dread spread through my limbs. A peculiar weightlessness took hold—I gripped the sides of my seat to anchor myself. My voice emerged thin and distant.
“But your soldiers?”
“I need them here,” he said. “Besides, they’re too obvious. I need someone adaptable and inconspicuous. Someone he would never suspect. That’s where you come in!”
He tapped the inlaid tablet. A filmy hologram of a large lake materialized between us. Beyond it, dense forest rose to the snow-capped peak of a distant Mt. Fuji.
“Twenty years ago, we were a nation of over one hundred million. Thanks to him, our numbers have dwindled to tens of thousands. Oh, but even that’s not enough for the Madman of Motosu!” Mazawa pounded the tabletop with his fist. “Yes, Madman—that’s what I call the infamous Doctor Yomichi.
“Oh, but all that’s going to change. I’ve just received word that his stronghold is in this very region. See? There’s Lake Motosu, and here...” He stabbed the hologram with his finger, causing the image to ripple. “I assume you’ve heard of this forest?”
Aokigahara.
Just thinking its name brought gooseflesh to my arms. The Sea of Trees, people called it, a dense, twisting maze of volcanic rock and gnarled roots where compasses failed and GPS signals went to die. I never bought into Tetsuo’s stories about hungry ghosts, forest spirits, or shape-shifting demons. I didn’t have to. The terrain alone was a threat enough.
“Wow, that’s…”
“Not afraid, are you?” His blue-tinted lenses twitched again. “I’m prepared to give you food, water, and equipment. Everything you’ll need.”
“But that’s hundreds of miles of forest to cover,” I said, scowling at the hologram’s wavering blues and greens. Finding one man in all that would be like pulling a single needle from a mile-high haystack—even if he was a madman. Was Mazawa huffing something besides oxygen from that canister?
“I don’t know, Doctor General. If Satoshi’s well enough to travel, I suppose we could.”
“Oh no, no, Renata! You misunderstood,” he croaked. “Satoshi and your other friends will stay here.”
Here. The word clamped around my throat like a vise.
“As my esteemed guests, of course,” he added, lenses twitching again. “I prefer to think of their detainment as an incentive for your success. You will venture into Aokigahara alone and kill the Madman of Motosu. After which, you will bring me——”
“His head. Right.” I nodded. The same way I earned every other kufugaki bounty.
“Not his head—what would I want with—don’t be daft, girl!” he spluttered. “What I want is the genome sequence for nokuru. Even my best researchers haven’t been able to decode it. Without it, any attempt at a cure or vaccine is completely futile. Do as I ask, and I will allow you and your fellow lawbreakers to leave New Edo unharmed.”
Mazawa rose, letting the oxygen mask slip for a fraction of a second. His hair, a wig, skewed to one side. He caught it, but not before exposing a patch of shiny, uneven scars.
Burn scars.
Before I could react, his iron grip clamped onto my wrist.
“You will be successful in this endeavor, Renata,” he hissed, twisting my arm enough to make me gasp. “Because the penalty for failure is death. Theirs and yours.”
Footsteps clicked. Rough hands slammed me face-first onto the table. One yanked my hair to bare my neck; another wrenched my arms behind my back. I thrashed, counting seconds, until a white-hot jab stole my breath.
“Hold her steady, men,” Mazawa croaked. “I can’t seed her if she’s moving.”
“Seed me? What the hell?”
“To ensure your complicity,” he said, pressing a compact pistol to the base of my neck. “I’ll be monitoring every step of your journey.”
Click.
Pain lanced through me, sharp and molten. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out.
Mazawa stepped back. The soldiers let go, melting into the shadows. I straightened, rubbing the scorched spot on my neck.
“Well, now that you’ve tagged me like an endangered species, are we done?”
“Not yet, Renata,” he murmured. “In case you’re harboring any fanciful notions of escape or appealing to the Hakodate for help—” He gestured to the guards, then swiped his tablet. “This is what will happen.”
Across the room, a panel slid open. A disheveled kufugaki stumbled out, sniffing the air, eyes wild. She turned toward us, gibbering.
Mazawa let her come within feet, then tapped the screen.
She shrieked. Blood sprayed from her throat as her hands flew to it. A final twitch, and then she collapsed.
Black-masked soldiers emerged from the shadows with grappling poles. They dragged the kufugaki away, leaving a bloody smear on the tiles. Then another wall panel creaked open. Wan sunlight bleared beyond it.
“A micro-explosive?” Sometimes, even in his wildest theorizing, Satoshi got it right. How had he known?
“GPS-enhanced with a remote detonator. Elegant, isn’t it?” Mazawa purred, cradling his “seeding” gun like a Persian cat in the crook of his arm. “Of course, I made a special adjustment for your seed. Should your mission exceed the time allotted, its outer shell will release the nokuru virion. Step out of line, however, and——”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” I pressed two fingers against my neck and mimicked the wet sound of the explosion. “Pfft!”
“Killing you before you complete the mission would be foolish on my part. No. Each time you display rebelliousness, insolence, or displease me, one of your comrades will die.” The gun disappeared back into his coat. “There are three of them, so that’s three chances I’m giving you, Renata. More than generous, if you ask me.”
“The Madman of Motosu,” I murmured, snatching my naginata from the floor beside my seat. The name rankled—a propaganda tool, no doubt. I wondered what kind of man Dr. Yomichi was. Creator of a virus that killed millions, or something else entirely? Satoshi always said there were two sides to every story, even ones containing monsters.
“If I kill him, Doctor General, what assurance do I have that you’ll honor your part of our bargain?”
“You have my word.” Mazawa motioned to someone behind me. “Take her to the armory.”
The light above him dimmed. Before darkness swallowed him, Mazawa said, “Bring me the genome, Renata. You have one week.”