Chapter 9

6 As the sun peeked between majestic cumulonimbus clouds in the azure sky, a refreshing breeze blew across the parched land. These were the Driftweed Plains of Tochigi. This plateau lay to the north of Imihama. The driftweed from which the area derived its name was a kind of algae that floated through the air and flourished in the spring and summer months. At night, it used energy gathered from the sun to emit a gentle bioluminescence that was quite remarkable to see and brought comfort to many weary travelers’ hearts. Unfortunately, such sublime pleasures were of no interest to the likes of a certain roughneck outlaw. “Thank goodness. It looks like they’ve left us alone,” said Milo. “Then gimme some space! What are you, a starfish? God damn, it’s hot enough out here as it is…!” replied Bisco, mopping his sweat with his sleeve. Not only having to contend with the oppressive summer sun beaming down on the fresh grass underfoot littered with the remains of rusted old cars and tanks, but also the warmth radiated by the hovering driftweed, Bisco was sweltering under the layers and layers of heavy clothing he was forced to wear. “I estimate that, thanks to your medicine, Pawoo has approximately three months to live. However, Jabi’s case is considerably worse. Even if he stays within the walls, I’d say he’s looking at another month at most.” Bisco shot a glance back at Milo that made him start with fright, then nodded for him to continue. “If, as Jabi said,” he went on, “the Rust-Eater exists somewhere in the unexplored regions of Akita, we won’t make it in time on foot. Unfortunately, it’s not possible to get there by car, either, and the Vigilante Corps will catch us immediately if we try to use the Imihama highway…” “You think I don’t know that? You really think I’d come out here without a plan? You think I’m an idiot, don’t you?” “…Which means you must have something in mind, right, Bisco?” Bisco swore under his breath and took a folded-up map from a pouch on his belt. As Milo peeked over his shoulder, he pointed with a scratched finger. “The Ashio Bonecoal Vein comes down just north of here. The longest minecart rail goes all the way to Yamagata. If we use it, the trip shouldn’t take us longer than a couple days.” “The Ashio Bonecoal Vein…” Milo grew concerned. “You mean to take us through that place? Bisco, we can’t! It’s too dangerous!” The Ashio Bonecoal Vein was Japan’s largest source of bonecoal, a new type of fuel that appeared shortly after the Tokyo Disaster. Formed of tin, black coal, and other minerals that were altered by the Rust Wind, bonecoal found common use as a power source these days. There were many theories as to the origin of its name, including that its pale-white appearance was reminiscent of bone or that it grew out of the skeletal remains of Tetsujin after it was destroyed. In the past, prefectures such as Tochigi, Niigata, and Fukushima fought bitterly over the rights to mine the rich veins, but as they dug deeper and deeper into the mountain, they encountered more and more mutated creatures, toxic gases, and explosions until they were forced to cancel all operations in the area and withdraw. Now it only stood as a natural powder keg riddled with holes and minecart tracks, waiting for one spark to blow the lid off the whole thing. “I heard a swarm of ironrats can strip a man to the bone in ten seconds flat! I know you’re strong, Bisco, but what can the two of us hope to do against that?!” “Who said it was just gonna be us two?” “Huh? Well, who else…?” Milo asked. Then he realized Bisco was not fully paying attention, instead peering around carefully at his surroundings. “Say, Bisco? What are you looking for?” “Our third member. Ah, found him.” Bisco whistled with his fingers, and all of a sudden the ground before them erupted as a giant crab burst into the air and stood before the pair, blotting out the sun. Showing off his brilliant-orange shell, he raised his claws into the air in such a majestic display he seemed powerful enough to slice a car in two. “W-waaah!” Milo jumped behind Bisco, who gave him a gentle nudge with his elbow. “You idiot, he’s a friend.” Bisco walked happily up to the giant crab and brushed the sand off his carapace. The crab did nothing and simply let himself be groomed. Seeing this, Milo began to relax, staring at the beast in amazement. “Th-this crab is your friend, Bisco?” “He’s my brother,” Bisco replied, leaping atop the creature’s back. He’s a steelcrab. Name’s Actagawa. I had him take the long way east around the city. He doesn’t like the heat, so I figured he might hide underground. Finally found him.” As its name implied, the steelcrab was a species with an incredibly tough shell. Because of their hardiness and agreeable nature, steelcrabs were once used as animals of warfare by vigilante outfits along the coastal regions, and Actagawa had apparently come from such a lineage. They had excellent mobility, able to traverse mountains, wetlands, and deserts even while loaded down with cannons and machine guns, and their tough hides and sharp claws made them fearsome in combat, too. At one point, they were thought to be invincible weapons of war. However, it was very rare to see them in use now, owing to a ridiculous story about an Okinawan crab brigade that, while en route to Kyushu, encountered a freak storm that drove hundreds of wheatshrimp to shore. Unable to resist the sight of their favorite food, the crabs all jumped into the sea, never to return. “The creatures that live in the mines won’t attack an enemy their teeth and poisons don’t work on. With Actagawa, we can go anywhere, and he can carry way more than a dump truck. You’d better start getting used to him, ’cause he’s our secret weapon.” Milo took another look at the crab, and although his left claw looked particularly menacing, he couldn’t help but find his somewhat drowsy face and the way he idly picked at the ground rather endearing. He timidly approached and accepted the arm Bisco was offering, whereupon Bisco pulled him up and into the saddle on his right. “Wow! Ohhh my goodness!” From atop the crab’s back, Milo could see far out across the sea of lush green driftweed. The wondrous view so delighted him he completely forgot his own fear, and he leaned forward to peer down at Actagawa face. “My name’s Milo Nekoyanagi! Pleased to meet you, Acta—” But before he could finish his introduction, the crab extended one claw and, grabbing Milo by the scruff of his neck, launched him with an almighty throw far off into the distance. “Waaaghhh!” screamed Milo as he arced through the sky. “Aaagh! Actagawa?! What the hell are you doing?!” Bisco descended from his mount and ran toward the spot where Milo fell. He found him lying in a pile of thick grass and driftweed, and while he appeared physically unharmed, it was clear from his blubbering the amount of mental damage he had taken. “…He hates me.” “…Kch. Kah-ha-ha-ha!” Bisco couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the sound of his partner’s sulky voice. When Milo shot back a menacing glare, Bisco quickly cleared his throat and said, “Don’t get your undies in a twist. He’d do the same if anyone he didn’t know tried to climb on his back. He’s got his own sense of pride to contend with. You’re both just gonna have to get used to each other; that’s all.” “So it’s about which will give out first, his pride or my neck; is that it?” “You sure do talk back a lot for a panda…” Bisco folded his arms and appeared to think for a moment, before Actagawa strolled leisurely over to his side. Bisco looked back and forth between the luggage on his back and Milo’s lab coat and gave a single nod. “In any case, we can’t cut through the mines if Actagawa won’t let you ride him. All right. First things first, we’ve gotta do something about your appearance. Actagawa never did like doctors…” Bisco gave Milo a pair of pants and a tunic made of starfish skin and soaked in mycelium—and a pair of viperskin boots. At the belt around his waist he wore a medicine pouch filled with vials of mushroom poison, two lizard-claw knives, and two pouches filled with various other tools. With a quiver stuck in the belt to act as a sheath for his sword, and a well-worn hideshroom cloak around his shoulders to protect his whole body from the Rust, Milo looked every bit the part of a full-fledged Mushroom Keeper. He seemed significantly more dashing in this outfit than in his old lab coat, and even Bisco was a little taken aback by how natural it looked on him. In truth, Milo was a lot stronger than Bisco gave him credit for, mostly from having to deal with his sister all the time, and he was more than capable of riding the giant crab. Saying this, Milo beamed and hopped atop his back. About three hours later… “Whoaaaa! Stooooop!” Milo shrieked for the however-manyth time as he was tossed through the air and landed in the driftweed. Bisco glanced over and shouted some friendly advice as he tended to a small fist-size pot over an open flame. “If you tense up when turning corners, he can feel it, and he gets mad! You’ve got to trust him; don’t try to force him!” “I understand, but it’s haaard!” “Well, the rest will come with practice. It’s okay; I believe in your neck bones! You can do it…probably.” Milo’s face was covered in dirt and scratches from his many tumbles, and he was dripping with sweat. Still, he hauled his slender body up to Actagawa’s saddle and took the reins once again. I wish you’d come up here and show me how to do it, though! Milo directed a nasty glare toward Bisco, who was apparently going for the hands-off approach to teaching and instead was occupied with some sort of bonfire. Then he cast his eyes forward once more just in time to see a small figure with a large pack walking steadily down the road. Just as Actagawa was about to bear down on them, Milo seized the reins and shouted. “Wah! A person! Actagawa, stop! Wh-whoa! Whoa there, I say!” As Actagawa screeched to a halt, Milo was flung forward, narrowly avoiding being dashed against the hard stone road and, instead, landing softly in a patch of floating driftweed. “Owww! Actagawa, y-you’re too fast!” said Milo, massaging his sore flank, when he suddenly remembered the figure he had seen and sprang to his feet. Or at least, he was about to, when he spotted a girl standing over him. “Ah. Morning, sleepyhead,” she said. “Thought you were a goner for a sec there.” “Oh, I do apologize!” cried Milo. “Are you hurt, miss?” “I should be asking you that, shouldn’t I?” she said, before looking over her shoulder at Actagawa. “Whatever. This crab of yours is, like, so cool. I’ve never seen anything like him!” Suddenly, the girl practically leaped into Milo’s arms, stroking his pale skin and looking up at his face with her large amber eyes. She was a rather small girl with shockingly pink hair tied up in braids that bobbed and swayed like the tentacles of some deep-sea creature. “Well, now! You’re a real cutie, aren’cha? Mind if I call you Panda, big boy? Those crabs don’t come cheap; I bet you make quite a bit of money, huh? Hey, is there a Mrs. Panda?” A shiver ran down Milo’s spine as the girl whispered in his ear. He desperately shook his head. “N-n-n-no! You misunderstand! Actagawa’s not my crab! He’s a…um…friend…of my partner!” “Tch. Why are all the good men taken? You’re no fun.” The jellyfish girl slipped free of Milo and began examining the giant crab, twiddling a pink braid around her finger. Before long, she broke out in a dastardly grin and turned to Milo, who was eyeing her curiously. “Hey, Panda Boy. You trying to break this puppy in? There’s a better way, ya know, one that doesn’t involve you eating dirt. You’re supposed to burn yuzu incense; it calms the crab down, and after that, he’ll let you ride him around all you want.” The jellyfish girl took a yellow vial from her breast pocket and held it toward Milo in her long, thin fingers. Undoing the stopper, she let the fragrant, citrusy scent of yuzu waft out. “Wow! S-so there is a better way! I knew there must be!” “Indeed there is, my friend. What a shame it is to see your beautiful face covered in nicks and bruises when all you need is a little bit of my incense! Now, let me show you how it’s done!” “Wow, thank you! Ah, but…I don’t have very much money on me…” “Heh-heh-heh… Keep your money!” The girl’s amber eyes gleamed like those of a cat. “We have to help each other in these trying times! The only thing I value…is simple human kindness.” Roughly half a kilometer away, Bisco was staring intently at the small iron pot before his eyes. The red liquid within simmered gently, and when it reached the appropriate stage, Bisco added a pinch of green spores to the mixture. After watching the concoction develop, he took out several metal arrowheads and dropped them into the liquid one by one. It was a very primitive method of mixing potions compared to Milo’s machine. Bisco made it look easy, but any slight error in the mixing process could cause the mushrooms to sprout immediately with disastrous consequences, and so Bisco handled the apparatus with the utmost delicacy. His concoctions in particular were created to maximize the force behind the fungi’s sudden growth, so it was dangerous for anyone other than him and his master to even touch them. In return for that risk, Bisco’s poisons were of the highest quality and came with all sorts of unique effects. In particular, the King Trumpet combined the explosive power of a boomshroom with the elasticity of an eggshroom to provide a powerful launching platform. It was Bisco’s greatest invention, and even Jabi was impressed by its ingenuity. What Bisco had absolutely no talent for, however, was making medicine. To heal people (and crabs), it was necessary to have a good sense for what effects the chemicals had on the body. No matter how much Jabi lectured him on the matter, Bisco was only ever capable of producing extremely potent serums that seemed just as liable to stop the heart as they were to save anyone’s life. Thus did Jabi throw his hands up in the air without ever imparting to Bisco any more knowledge of the theory of medicine. Bisco removed the arrowheads from the pot once the mixture had sufficiently stuck to them and decided to test one out by hurling it at a nearby tree. There was a Gaboom! Gaboom! as, one after the other, beautiful red mushrooms burst from the tree’s bark and unfurled their thin caps in a shower of spores. They were red oyster mushrooms that would take root even in the dense ore veins of the bonecoal mines. “Hmm… That should be good enough, I think.” Satisfied with his efforts, Bisco extinguished the bonfire, when— “Heeelp! Crab thief!” It had been a while since Bisco had heard Milo’s voice. But when he realized what he was screaming, his body tensed up. “Crab thief…?” He looked in the direction of the voice to see Actagawa running around recklessly in all directions. There in his saddle was a strange girl with a heavy pack. Milo himself was clutching on to the crab’s huge claw for dear life as Actagawa shook him up and down violently. “Y-you tricked me! Let go of him! Give him baaack!” yelled Milo. “That’s not a very nice thing to say! Listen, Panda, it ain’t my fault we’re living in such hard times! Just give up and let go already!” From far away, Bisco could just about make out the utter chaos of the scene. “What the hell is that idiot doing?” Having seen enough to figure out he needed help, Bisco drew his bow and launched a shot toward them. Pchew! It landed directly in a piece of driftweed floating at around the height of Actagawa’s saddle, before rapidly growing with a Gaboom! into a cluster of clamshell mushrooms that knocked the girl clean off and sent her rolling down Actagawa’s side. “Gyaaah!” As the jellyfish girl tried to make her escape, Bisco cut off her path with his subsequent shots, hitting close to her feet and causing the ground to erupt into clamshell clusters. “Who do you think you’re messing with?” he yelled. “You wanna become crab food, huh?!” “Gyaaah! Waaah!” The jellyfish girl went running for her life, disappearing into the distance before it was even clear whether she heard Bisco’s threats. After a short while, Actagawa, deprived of his rider, calmed back down and returned to Bisco’s side, depositing Milo onto the ground. Milo tried to wipe the dirt and driftweed off his face, letting out a heavy fit of coughs. “You idiot! How did you manage to—?” Bisco was about to launch into a tirade when he saw Milo on the verge of tears, his dejected face covered in cuts and bruises, and decided not to say any more. “B-Bisco… I’m so sorry… I…!” “It’s fine! Don’t apologize… You ain’t gonna last much longer today. Let’s get moving.” “N-no! We don’t have time! I need to learn how to ride him as soon as possible…” “Not in that state you don’t. You’re standing like a deer who’s just been born. We’ve still got tomorrow; you just rest and heal your wounds.” “…Okay.” Then Bisco furrowed his brow and began pondering their next move. In truth, he knew it was impossible for Milo, green as he was, to learn how to ride a steelcrab in such a short time. Even among the Mushroom Keepers, there were many who didn’t have the mettle for it, and some even resorted to using drugs or hypnosis to make the crab easier to control. I could never do that to Actagawa, no matter how much of a hurry we’re in, Bisco thought. As he glanced over at Milo, he noticed that the doctor was carrying what little baggage he had in his arms, heading over in Actagawa’s direction. “I’m sorry about earlier, Actagawa. Hold still, and I’ll give you some medicine,” he said, pulling out a purple vial from his pocket. Seeing it, Actagawa reared up in fright, displaying his fearsome claws in a menacing display of power that put even Bisco on edge. But Milo didn’t so much as flinch. “You mustn’t bluff!” he shouted. “Your muscles will grow weak if we ignore it! Now, stand up straight!” Bisco looked on in shock as Actagawa lowered his mighty claws. Milo smiled and rubbed the crab’s white underbelly. “That’s right! Well done! Now, sit!” Actagawa slowly relaxed before bending his legs and sitting down on the floor. Milo wiped his serum over the creature’s joints, producing the fragrant smell of herbs. Afterward, he pet the crab and looked back at Bisco to see him wide-eyed in amazement. “I’m sorry. I was riding him around so recklessly that he strained some of his muscles. But I’ve applied a little moonwort, so he should heal while we’re on the move!” Didn’t I tell you to heal your own wounds? Bisco thought, walking over with a curious expression and watching him along with the now-calm Actagawa. “How come you can do this, but you can’t ride him?” “Hmm…?” Milo responded. “…Do what?” “…Heh. Ha-ha-ha! Ah, forget it.” Bisco let out a chuckle and leaped up onto Actagawa’s saddle, reaching his arm out to Milo. Milo took it, and Bisco pulled him up into the passenger seat. As Bisco took the reins, Actagawa began walking, and Bisco muttered something to Milo. “I’m changing the plan. You don’t need any more training. You’ve got talent.” “Whaaat? B-but you saw what happened! I can’t ride him at all!” “But you can talk to him. That’s the first time I’ve seen someone talk to a crab before they could ride one.” Actagawa ran through the desert on his eight giant legs. His temper was replaced with a strange serenity, and his discomfort at the new stranger sitting atop his right shoulder was all but gone. A pair of enormous tank barrels stuck out of the roof of the ruined temple, pointing toward the sky. The carcasses of armored vehicles littered the temple grounds, overgrown with moss and ferns that now glowed with a faint light in the darkness of the night. “This temple is called Nikko Sencho-gu,” said Milo to Bisco from atop Actagawa. “It was made to enshrine all the tanks and engines of war that were destroyed when the Rust Wind came. Look, see that gate? It’s made out of gun barrels.” “What’s that statue?” asked Bisco. “By the gate. Looks like three monkeys in a line.” “They are the three idols known as See No Evil, Hear No Evil, and Speak No Evil. They embody the Vigilante Corps’ three tenets of blitz warfare. I was told they inherited them from the old Tochigi military.” “Huh. You sure know a lot.” “That’s because I went to school.” “Right… Wait, you callin’ me stupid?” roared Bisco before turning his attention back to the structure of the temple. The iron was pristine and free of rust, but there were no signs of human habitation, and even if the temple was still in use, it didn’t look as if a bunch of armed monks were about to jump out of hiding and attack or anything. “Okay, let’s camp here for the night,” he said. “The Ashio mines are just a bit farther on. Make sure you treat your own wounds tonight and not just Actagawa’s. Got it?” “I’ll be fine! I’m a man, too, you know!” “The smell of blood attracts rock mites. They like to burrow in open wounds; it hurts like hell.” “Oh… I-I’ll patch myself up, then…” Leaving Actagawa to sleep in the courtyard, the two entered the main shrine. There in the darkness, they suddenly caught wind of a burning smell and saw the faint glow of a fireplace. “Someone’s been here before us. Wait here,” said Bisco, pushing Milo back with one hand and drawing his bow. Then he slowly began moving closer to the flames. As he did, he spotted a figure with a familiar head of braided pink hair, swaying unsteadily in the darkness. “…Huh. Looks like that crab jacker from before. Hey, you. Fancy seeing you here.” “Uh… Ug… Uh… Kuh… Kuh. Uh… Geh…” “Hmm? Now that I think about it, didn’t I see you back in Imihama, too? Have you been following us, trying to—?” As the girl turned around to face Bisco, he stopped. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, her face was coated in beads of sweat, and she was producing strange, guttural sounds quite unlike any words he had ever heard. Something was very wrong. “What the hell…?!” “Bisco, get away from her!” Milo ran up to the girl and slapped her hard on the back. There was a sticky, wet sound as she vomited up a strange white liquid, mixed with blood. Milo gave her a couple more slaps to clear her airways, then he took out a syringe filled with a green liquid from the pouch at his waist and, without hesitation, stuck it into the pale skin of the girl’s throat. As the liquid flowed into her, she became more and more unstable and began shaking violently. “Watch out, Milo! She’s possessed!” “There’s something in her stomach! This is going to get messy…!” After injecting her with his muscle relaxant, Milo took a deep breath and kissed the girl right on the lips. “Mmph?! Mmmmph!” The girl squirmed, her eyes open wide, and as Milo sucked in with all his might, something began to rise up the girl’s throat, bulging through the skin of her neck. When Milo felt it enter her oral cavity, he bit down on it, hard, and pulled as strongly as he could. Some sort of white bug emerged from the girl’s mouth, about the size of a two-liter bottle. Milo wrenched it free from her throat and spat it onto the ground, where it glistened in a pile of mucus and blood and emitted a shrill squeak. It wriggled across the ground with surprising agility, trying to flee, before Bisco gave it a good kick, and it flew across the room slamming hard into one of the shrine’s pillars, where it fell to the floor, unmoving. “What the hell was that?” “A balloonworm,” said Milo, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “They used to use them on slaves so they wouldn’t run away. They make you swallow the eggs, then keep you on an antidote that prevents them from hatching. Nowadays, they’re reserved for prisoners…” “…Or the governor’s special task force?” said the jellyfish girl angrily as she coughed up the last of the fluid. “I wondered what that weird stuff he was making me drink was. Now I know I should have stuck to normal jobs. That bastard…!” “Here, drink some water. You might still feel a little nausea, but you’ll be okay now.” Milo smiled pleasantly at the girl as she gulped down the drink. Soon the color slowly returned to her face, and she calmed down a little. How can he make a face like that at someone who made such a fool of him earlier? she thought. Bisco looked at Milo and nodded—either in satisfaction or displeasure, it was hard to tell. Then he walked up behind the pink-haired jellyfish girl and delivered a swift kick to her backside. “Gnyaagh! Wha—? A-Akaboshi! What are you doing here?!” “Don’t give me that. First thing outta your mouth should be sayin’ thanks to the good doctor here for saving your life!” “…Heh. Oh, I don’t think so. I know what you boys want, running to the rescue of a girl out here all by her lonesome…” The jellyfish girl wiped the gunk from her mouth and brushed her hands over her bare shoulders. “…You catch my drift? That kiss was, like, amazing. I thought I was gonna drown. But I don’t come cheap, y’know. You gonna pay for that, Panda Boy?” “…Whaaat?! No, I… I didn’t know that was…!” “Gosh, you’re so darn cute! It’s fine as long as I’m your patient, right? Doctor…I think there’s another one of those bugs squirming around inside me…” As the girl pressed up against him, Milo was at a loss for words. As he blushed and stammered, his partner came to his rescue. “Check yourself, lady! Nobody wants to feel up your scrawny-ass skeleton body anyway!” “Shows what you know, Akaboshi. I’m worth a lot more than you might think. Hee-hee-hee, I didn’t realize the Man-Eating Redcap was such a virgin…” “…Whoa, Bisco, calm down!” Milo clung to Bisco in desperation, trying to prevent him from grabbing his bow. Bisco’s eyes were wide, and his hair bristled with rage. “You’re scaring me, Bisco, stop!” “But she’s a psycho! Aren’t you pissed off at her, too?” “Shh.” Milo put his finger to his lips and turned to the girl with a smile. “Hey, listen, miss. Am I right in assuming you’re a merchant? We don’t have very much food, you see. Would you mind sharing some with us?” The jellyfish girl blinked a few times in surprise, staring blankly at the carefree face of the doctor she had tried to swindle not too long ago. “Wait… Are you guys really not after my body?” she asked. “If all ya wanted was my stock, you coulda just waited for me to die and then helped yourselves to a five-finger discount.” The two boys looked at each other for a second, then spoke. “Huh. I didn’t think about that—” “Wh-wh-what he means is: We didn’t think about material goods when someone’s life was in danger! Isn’t that right, Bisco?” Bisco shut his mouth and adopted a grumpy silence as Milo secretly pinched his wrist beneath his cloak. Taken aback by the bizarre duo, the jellyfish girl heaved a deep sigh before dropping the flirty act and plopping down onto the ground cross-legged, her head in her hands, looking on in amusement.