‘Aren’t you afraid you’ll get in trouble?’
‘So far, so good. If the cops come asking questions, we’ll just have to play dumb. I wouldn’t even be playing, really.’
Hiroe smiled. ‘I had no idea you were involved with such shady dealings.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ve had enough of shady.’
Tomohiko was pretty sure that Ryo had known exactly what the score was from the very beginning. He was far too sharp to let a low-level player like Kaneshiro pull the wool over his eyes. He hadn’t seemed particularly surprised when Tomohiko came to him with his belated realisation that they had been making the pirated version of the game.
Tomohiko had to admit he hadn’t been that surprised either, not after everything he’d seen Ryo get involved in over the years. Stealing someone’s half-finished golf game seemed pretty tame by comparison.
He wondered again how much Ryo had made out of that forged credit card scheme back in the day, the one he’d helped with. He guessed it was considerably more than two hundred thousand yen.
More recently, Ryo had gone on a wiretapping spree. He didn’t know who was making requests, or who Ryo was listening in on, but Ryo had come to him several times to talk about methods and technology.
Which was why it was refreshing to see him seemingly satisfied just to keep his computer shop running these days. Tomohiko hoped Kaneshiro didn’t bring him anything too enticing – not that Ryo was one to be easily swayed. The problem was, Tomohiko didn’t know what Ryo was really thinking, deep down. Ryo was his closest friend, and he didn’t know him at all.
Tomohiko took Hiroe to the station and returned to the shop. The lights on the upper floor were on. He went up the stairs, and used his own key to open the door, peering in to see Ryo glued to a computer screen, a can of beer on the table next to him.
‘Didn’t expect to see you again today,’ he said.
‘Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about Kaneshiro,’ Tomohiko said, pulling a folding chair off of the wall and sitting down. ‘What did he want?’
‘Money, what else? That golf game gave him a taste, and he’s having trouble letting it go.’ Ryo pulled the tab off another can of beer and took a slug. There was a small refrigerator by his feet that always contained at least a full case of Heineken.
‘So what was it this time?’
‘Something ridiculous,’ Ryo said, snorting. ‘I mean, there’s risky, and then there’s this. No way I’m touching it.’
Ryo had a hard set to his eyes, like when he was mulling over a problem. He might not be taking on whatever job Kaneshiro had brought, but it had definitely grabbed his interest.
‘So, what was it?’ Tomohiko asked.
Ryo chuckled. ‘You don’t want to know.’
Something about the way he said it made Tomohiko narrow his eyes. ‘No way. Not the Monster?’
Ryo raised his beer in a mock toast.
Tomohiko sat, speechless.
‘The Monster’ was their nickname for the most popular game in history: Super Mario Bros., for Nintendo’s game console. The thing had stormed the charts, selling out across the country since going on sale in September, to the tune of two million copies and counting. Featuring a charismatic plumber who avoided obstacles and enemies in his quest to rescue a princess, the game had expanded on the simple single-path gameplay of its rivals by introducing numerous shortcuts and sidetracks. There was the element of a treasure hunt to the game as well. Not just the software, but strategy guides and magazines featuring the game were selling like hot cakes and with Christmas looming, sales were steadily on the rise. Tomohiko and Ryo both agreed that the Mario boom was here to stay, probably well into the next year.
‘So what about Mario? Don’t tell me he wants us to make a pirate version,’ Tomohiko said.
‘That’s exactly what he wants,’ Ryo said, chuckling. ‘He’s claiming it’d be easy, from a technical standpoint.’
‘I don’t know about easy, but the finished game is out already. You’d just have to copy the data in the cartridge and build a new board. It wouldn’t be that hard with the right tools and a workshop.’
‘Which is what Kaneshiro wants us to set up for him. He already has a printer in Shiga prefecture that can do the fake packaging and instruction manual.’
‘Shiga? Why so far away?’
‘Some gang connection, most likely,’ Ryo said.
‘There’s no way they could make it in time for Christmas.’
‘He’s not even thinking about Christmas. He’s after the allowances kids get from their relatives on New Year’s. Still, even if we started right now, the fastest they could get product on the shelves would be the end of January. By which time I’m betting that the kids will have blown their cash already.’ Ryo grinned.
‘If he was going to sell it wholesale, he’d have to find some place willing to pay cash —’
Ryo shook his head. ‘That would just get the wholesalers breathing down your neck. You think they’re not going to suspect something if someone comes in trying to sell them a whole shipment of a sold-out game? Once they check with Nintendo, it’s over.’
‘So what’s the sales route?’
‘The black market. And no middlemen, like with Invaders or the golf game. He was talking selling it straight to kids.’
‘Except they’re not, because you said no, right?’ Tomohiko asked.
‘Of course I did. I’m not going down with that ship.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Tomohiko said, pulling a Heineken out of the fridge for himself. He pulled back the tab, sending a white spray of foam into the air.
The man arrived on a Monday the week after Tomohiko and Ryo had talked about Super Mario Bros. Ryo was out on a purchasing run, so Tomohiko was handling all the in-store customers while Hiroe answered the phone. Half their business came from phone enquiries in response to their magazine advertisements. When Limitless first opened at the end of the previous year, it had just been Tomohiko and Ryo, and things frequently got hectic until they took on Hiroe in April.
Tomohiko had just sold an old model for half-price and was feeling pretty good about himself when the man walked in. He was of medium height and build, about fifty years old. His forehead sloped back a little with a receding hairline. What hair remained was slicked back. He was wearing white corduroy jeans and a black suede jacket. He took off his gold-framed green-tinted shades and slid them into his jacket breast pocket. Tomohiko was struck by how pale the man’s face looked. His mouth seemed permanently fixed in a scowl and the way his lips curled up at the edges put Tomohiko in mind of an iguana.
He first glanced at Tomohiko before his eyes went to Hiroe, where they lingered for at least twice as long. Hiroe frowned, and swivelled her chair so her back was facing him. He then went to look over the computers and peripherals on the shelves. It was clear from his expression that he had no intention of buying anything.
‘Got any games?’ he asked in a gravelly voice.
‘What sort of game are you looking for?’ Tomohiko asked, playing it by the book.
‘A fun game,’ the man said, ‘like Super Mario Bros. Got anything like that?’
‘Sorry, we only carry computer software.’
‘That’s a shame,’ he said, though he didn’t look disappointed in the least. A strange smile came to his lips.
‘If that’s the case, why not just buy a word processor?’ Hiroe was saying to someone on the phone, a bit loudly. ‘Yes, you can save files on a floppy.’ Tomohiko knew what she was doing: she was trying to send a signal that customers who weren’t interested in what they were selling were wasting their time. The man’s mention of Super Mario Bros. had Tomohiko thinking he was there for another reason entirely.
Hiroe hung up the phone and the man looked up, his eyes going between the two of them, until his eyes settled on Hiroe. ‘Ryo here?’
‘Ryo?’ Hiroe said, shooting Tomohiko a confused look.
‘Ryo Kirihara,’ the man said. ‘He’s th
e manager, isn’t he? He out?’
‘Yes, he’s out on a call,’ Tomohiko said.
The man turned to Tomohiko. ‘When’s he coming back?’
‘I’m not sure. He said he’d be late,’ Tomohiko lied. He expected Ryo back any moment, but he was damned if he was going to let this guy meet him.
The man grunted and stared Tomohiko in the eye. Tomohiko resisted the urge to look away.
‘Maybe I’ll just wait here a bit, then,’ the man said after a moment. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘Not at all,’ Tomohiko lied again. He really didn’t have a choice. Maybe Ryo would have a way of turning the guy out. He wished he had half Ryo’s talent when it came to being a hardass.
The man sat on a folding chair near the door. He started to pull a cigarette out of his jacket pocket, saw the no smoking sign, and put it back. A little ring on his pinky finger shone with a platinum gleam.
Tomohiko went back to sorting sales slips, but he kept making mistakes. He could feel the man’s eyes on him. Hiroe had her back turned again, looking over orders.
‘This is a nice shop,’ the man said, looking around. ‘Ryo’s done well for himself. How’s he been doing?’
‘He’s fine,’ Tomohiko replied without looking up.
‘Good to hear, good to hear. He always was a tough one.’
Tomohiko looked up. ‘How do you know Ryo, exactly?’
‘Oh, we go way back,’ the man said, a crooked smile on his face. ‘I’ve known him since he was a kid. Him, and his parents.’
‘Are you a relative?’
‘You could say that,’ the man said, nodding at some deep meaning in his own words. He looked up at Tomohiko. ‘He still gloomy?’
Tomohiko blinked.
‘Gloomy – you know, a cloud hanging over his head?’ the man explained. ‘With those dark eyes. Never knew what that kid was thinking. I was hoping he’d brightened up along the way.’
‘He seems normal enough to me.’
‘Normal, huh?’ The man chuckled. ‘Well, that’s good to hear.’
Something about the man’s attitude made Tomohiko think that even if he was a relative, Ryo wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Presently, the man looked at his watch, slapped his thighs and stood. ‘Guess he’s not coming. I’ll try again later.’
‘Want me to give him a message?’
‘Nah, that’s OK. I’ll tell him in person.’
‘Should I tell him you came?’
‘I said no messages.’ The man glared at Tomohiko and headed for the door.
Tomohiko shrugged. Ryo would know who it was when he described him, and besides, the man was leaving.
‘Come again any time,’ Tomohiko said to the man’s back.
The man was reaching for the door handle when it turned on its own, and the door opened inwards. Ryo was standing outside the shop, eyes wide with astonishment. Tomohiko thought he detected the hint of a scowl before Ryo’s expression hardened. It was like a shadow had fallen across his face. Tomohiko had never seen Ryo look like that. And yet, a moment later, he smiled.
‘Matsuura!’
The man took a step back to let Ryo inside. ‘Long time no see. You look good.’
Tomohiko watched as the two shook hands.
‘He’s an old friend,’ Ryo explained before they headed off to the stockroom.
Tomohiko was confused. Ryo was all smiles, but that did nothing to explain the darkness he’d glimpsed the moment he first met Matsuura at the door. The negative energy pouring off of him was almost tangible. Definitely weird.
Later, Hiroe returned from taking tea to the next apartment.
‘How were they?’ Tomohiko asked.
‘Laughing,’ she said, shrugging. ‘They were telling jokes to each other. Ryo, telling a joke. Can you believe it?’
‘I can’t.’
‘I thought I was hearing things,’ Hiroe said, rubbing her ear.
‘You find out what this Matsuura wanted?’
She shook her head. ‘They kept it to small talk while I was there. Whatever they’re really talking about, they didn’t want me to know.’
Worry stirred in his chest. Whatever they were discussing on the other side of that wall, it was trouble.
About thirty minutes later, he heard a door open outside. Ten seconds more and the shop door opened and Ryo stuck his head in. ‘I’m going to see Matsuura off.’
Tomohiko saw Matsuura behind him, waving as the door closed.
Tomohiko and Hiroe exchanged looks.
‘Wonder what that was about?’ wondered Tomohiko.
‘I’ve never seen Ryo look like that,’ Hiroe agreed, her eyes wide.
Ryo returned a few minutes later. ‘Tomohiko,’ he said, sticking his head in the door. ‘Next door.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Tomohiko replied, but Ryo was already gone.
Hiroe raised an eyebrow at Tomohiko but all he could do was shake his head.
In the next apartment over, Ryo was busy opening the windows and airing the place out. The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air. To Tomohiko’s knowledge, Ryo had never let anyone smoke in the stockroom before. A leftover aluminium tray from some instant noodles had served as a makeshift ashtray.
‘After all the guy’s done for me, I figured I should at least let him light up,’ Ryo said, by way of explanation.
First jokes, now he’s making excuses?
Once the air was a little fresher and feeling thoroughly like December, Ryo shut the window and took a seat on the sofa. ‘I’m sure Hiroe’s imagining all kinds of things by this point, so if she asks, tell her Matsuura wanted me to sell him some computers wholesale.’
‘Who is he, anyway?’ Tomohiko said. ‘I can’t say I got the best vibes off the guy.’
‘An old employee,’ Ryo said.
‘What, at Unlimited Designs?’
‘Not my employee. My dad’s. Back at the pawnshop. I told you about that, didn’t I?’
Tomohiko nodded, surprised.
‘After my father died, he kept working until we finally closed down. If Matsuura hadn’t been there, we would’ve been out on the street.’
Tomohiko wasn’t sure what to say. That was more information about Ryo’s past in a few words than he’d heard the entire time they’d known each other.
‘So what did this benefactor of yours come to talk about? And how did he know you were here, anyway? You call him?’
‘No, I didn’t know he was coming. He heard I was working here, apparently.’
‘From who?’
The corner of Ryo’s mouth twisted in a slight smile. ‘Kaneshiro.’
Tomohiko frowned.
‘Remember we were saying how hard it’d be to sell a pirated version of Mario? Well, they found the answer.’
‘What’s the trick?’
‘No trick at all.’ Ryo chuckled. ‘It turns out their target audience already has a black market all set up.’