Morning Mist

The MP stationing the crosswalk wasn’t letting anyone pass.

“What’s with all this?”

“You didn’t hear the news, Nishizawa?”

Hiroki was standing next to me in the large crowd waiting to cross the street. A large tractor-trailer was pulling a missile launcher through the intersection. A half-dozen more trucks were pulling similar cargoes just behind it. The whole street had been cordoned off by a number of military policemen, much to the chagrin of the office workers and housewives now awaiting the signal that it was okay to start crossing the street. Nobody dared jaywalk- the MPs were too well armed for that to seem like a good shortcut.

“The news? Shinji, how long have you known me?”

“Good point. You never pay attention to that stuff.”

“So what’s going on? What’s with the missiles?”

“It’s a Patriot battery. US Army.”

The American soldiers driving the trucks were enough to give that away.

“I mean, what’s it doing here? Blocking us from getting to school?”

We were only about 3 minutes away, but the convoy was long enough that it was preventing us from taking any of the alternate routes to school. The entire street was taken up by the lumbering trucks and their inappropriately-forest green camouflaged payloads.

“They’re setting it up in the park near here. There’s another one in the War Memorial Park, too. I saw them putting it up last night.”

“Why?”

Hiroki turned to me with a conspiratorial glance.

“The US Army’s moving an armored division into the city.”

“That sounds…bad.”

“You really haven’t heard the news, huh?”

“No. About what?”

“They caught spies in the North. Actual legit ones, too.”

Oh. That wasn’t good. The North occasionally caught a “Southern Spy” and televised their show trial to drum up tensions with the South. It hadn’t happened for about a decade, but every time it did, an entire ecosystem of war-scare con artists popped out of the woodwork to sell Armageddon meal-prep kits, Geiger counters, and other nonsense paraphernalia. It usually subsided within a week, but it was always a hassle to deal with the commotion.

“So what’s got the American military riled up?”

“Well, this is just a rumor, but…”

Hiroki scanned the crowd, making sure nobody was paying attention to our conversation.

“...Apparently, the Soviets just moved three divisions into North Tokyo.”

“Is that a lot?”

“Each one has about 12,000 men. Plus, one’s a Guards tank division- they’re the elite armored force of the Red Army.”

“Wow.”

That was a lot. The Soviets usually weren’t as provocative as the Northern Army. No wonder the Americans had gotten nervous about the city’s defenses.

“The Reds aren’t explaining why. They’re not supposed to have this many troops in Tokyo. The Americans are trying to level the playing field.”

“Is it a real threat?”

Hiroki blew some air out of his mouth.

“Dunno. It’ll probably blow over as soon as they leave. If they leave.”

“Think they’ll ever let us cross?”

The trucks pulling the missile launchers had all disappeared down the street, but a convoy of covered five-ton cargo trucks was still inching along behind them. Several office workers in the crowd were pulling out their cell phones to apologize to their bosses for being late. A few students were running vocab study drills with flash cards. It was going to take a while yet. The MP guarding the crosswalk didn’t seem to care about our plight.

“So anyway, how are things going with Higashiyama?”

Hiroki’s question caught me unprepared.

“Higa- oh, Midorikawa?”

Hiroki tilted his head, confused.

“I thought that was just for the passport. You’re actually calling her that?”

“She wanted me to.”

“Hooo. Congrats, Nishizawa.”

“Congrats? On what?”

“On getting your damned fantasy to stick. La petit camarade is the last person I’d have expected to be living out your delusions.”

“It wasn’t my choice.”

“The name? That was definitely you, dude.”

“No, I mean- she doesn’t want to be called Higashiyama any more.”

Hiroki considered this for a moment, staring up into the overcast sky.

“Ah. No, I see. That makes sense.”

“What about Saijou? Did you make up with her?”

“Still avoiding me.”

Miho still hadn’t spoken to me since that day.

“Well, I guess you can wait until she gets tired of being through with you.”

“How long is that gonna take?”

“Knowing you, Nishizawa? Ten years, at least.”

At that moment, a black car buzzed through the intersection, ignoring the frantic pleas of the MP to slow down. It took a hard left turn to the south, nearly clipping the curb. The MP shouted something into his radio, probably calling for the civilian police to deal with the brazen traffic violator.

“Shoot. Wasn’t that the car Miho wrecked at your place?”

“Huh?”

“Oh. I thought you would have heard about it.”

“Saijou’s a vandal now? That doesn’t sound very Saijou-like.”

“She put a dent in it by accident when we were over at the apartment. The owner didn’t come asking about it?”

“No. Nobody at the apartments owns a car like that. Too expensive. Too big.”

“Huh. Must have been parked illegally.”

“Maybe. We get some people who do that from time to time. It lets them avoid paying the parking fee for the shopping district.”

“He didn’t look like the rule-following type.”

Hiroki laughed.

“No, I guess not.”

“Well, if he comes asking, Miho did it. Not me.”

“Suuure, Nishizawa. Blame the Ex.”

An armored car at last brought up the rear of the convoy, and the MP at last waved his hands to let the throng cross over the street. We had been standing there for at least fifteen minutes and were both at least ten minutes late for homeroom. At least we were not the only ones. Up in the sky, we could hear the rumble of turbojets dancing from corner to corner. We couldn’t see anything, though- it was too cloudy. The cool air was refreshing after the long false summer of the preceding weeks.

Maybe it would rain later.