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Central Park and the Small Aircraft – Part 05

Kazuya Kujou pedaled his bicycle intensely along the main road from Little Italy to Central Park, while a tall Italian youth ran beside him, gasping for air.

Nico’s arms swung wildly, his chin jutting upward. Gradually, his eyes half-closed as he groaned, “Last night’s booze still isn’t outta my system!”

Kazuya kept pedaling. “Oh? I thought you had a sandwich and went straight home.” His jet-black bangs stirred in the wind.

Nico flared his nostrils proudly. “That was just a pre-party snack. I’ve got pals all over Little Italy. Every night’s a fun cruise.”

“But what about Prohibition? Isn’t drinking illegal here?”

Dense greenery came into view through the intersection ahead. Foliage bulged like small hills, glinting under the summer sun.

Almost there, Kazuya thought, pedaling harder.

“Hah… hah. Prohibition? That’s just for show. Behind the scenes, gangs are raking it in with bootleg liquor. Speakeasies are everywhere. Even the NYPD looks the other way. Wine, whiskey, beer—drink all you want.”

“…”

“Hey, are you even listening?”

“Hmm.”

Kazuya was peering at something up ahead. A large silver unicycle rolled by, ridden by a small gentleman in a suit, about 140 cm tall.

“Mister Troll? Hey, Troll! Ah, he’s gone.”

“What was that about?”

“Just saw an acquaintance. Come to think of it, he said he likes trout sandwiches, potato salad, and dark beer.”

“Hmm? Dark beer? You can only get those at speakeasies. Hah… hah.”

Kazuya slowed down and turned at the intersection. Finally, they arrived at Central Park.

Thick greenery, steeped in the smell of nature. Despite the crowded sidewalks and roads, it felt like a doorway to an ancient world had opened.

“Hah… hah. We made it.” Nico stopped, bracing his hands on his knees. “But y’know, I’m starting to think I’d rather sleep all day and drink all night. Working’s such a pain.”

Kazuya suddenly smiled. “I know a girl you’d get along with. She says her dream is to be a guard dog and wait all day for candy tornadoes to form from the sky.”

“Sounds like a real slacker. I’ll set her straight.”

“What? Are you a slacker or not?” Kazuya stopped his bike. “Speak of the devil. There she is, my little silver guard dog, waiting for a candy tornado. What’s she doing here?”

Across the street, her silver hair, shimmering with streaks of gold, rippled in the wind, impossible to miss even from afar. She occasionally disappeared behind pedestrians, then reappeared. The green frills of her dress swelled like waves on a stormy sea.

Nico squinted. “Oh, the girl from last night. The one who asked, ‘What is a home?’ She’s so tiny from here.” He cackled. “Ugh, she’s so pretty, it’s a little terrifying.”

“Hey, Victorique!” Kazuya called brightly. She didn’t notice, so he pedaled faster, shouting louder, “Victorique!”

Hearing his voice, Victorique turned around. She was on the sidewalk in front of the Federal Reserve Bank.

Her silver hair flowed gently, catching the wind and sparkling golden. Her green dress fluttered like a living thing, billowing in the breeze.

Kazuya rose up on the pedals and hurried toward her.

“Kujou? Ah, right. You said you were going to Central Park.”

“Yeah, to cover a story.”

Victorique glanced at Nico, who was slowly catching up.

“Ah, the one who said he didn’t know anything. You also said, ‘If you need someone who doesn’t know anything, come to Roma Café.’”

“We meet again. I’ve got something to say to you. Get to work!”

Kazuya looked at Nico. “That was fast.”

Victorique was so startled she nearly dropped her pipe.

Collecting himself, Kazuya asked, “So, what are you doing here?”

“After you left, I took the cases of the other two clients.” She gestured toward the man and woman standing nearby.

Before she could explain, a burly man in a sturdy linen apron pushed through the crowd on the sidewalk. The apron featured a bicycle and the words Sue-Sue Bicycle! He was carrying a bicycle’s front basket under his arm.

“Dad, over here!” Kelly Sue called.

Victorique pointed to Kazuya’s bicycle. “Kelly’s father, your effort is appreciated. This is the bicycle that requires the front basket.”

“All right!” the man nodded. “Detective, this basket won’t break even if an elephant sits on it. Look after my lovely daughter today, okay?” He patted Victorique’s head gently, then gave Kazuya’s shoulder a hearty shove. Kazuya flew back and hit a streetlight. His head spun.

“Of course, if an elephant actually sat on it, the bike would be too heavy to pedal.” He guffawed.

Kazuya wobbled but managed to stay upright. “Th-Thank you. Wow. My bike’s handier with a front basket now. I can put my bag here and still hold the handlebars with both hands. Um, who are you?”

“What, you don’t know him? What’s going on?” Nico asked skeptically.

The man laughed. “All right, Kelly, don’t fall into any more traps!” He then ran off down the sidewalk.

Kazuya turned to Victorique. “Who was that just now?”

“Well, after taking a client’s case, your bicycle received an upgrade. All thanks to me,” she explained, fiddling anxiously with her pipe.

Doug chimed in, “Well, she is Wonder Girl. These things happen.”

Kazuya glanced at Doug. “Uh, and this gentleman?”

“Another client.”

“Hmm? So Victorique, you came here as a detective to investigate something. It’s not anything dangerous, is it?” Kazuya asked, concerned.

Victorique shook her head eagerly. “Nope!”

Kazuya smiled, relieved.

Swinging her pipe left to right, she explained enthusiastically, “The first case comes from Kelly Sue, a city hall employee. She wants me to find the real map of Central Park. The architect hid it somewhere in the park. Incidentally, this is the same architect who built the Druid House we visited this morning. Arthur King, also known as Druid.”

“Wait. The architect of the Druid House built Central Park? And he hid the map?”

“As a prank, of course.”

“Ah, I see,” Kazuya muttered, gazing at the lush park across the road. “A prank, huh.”

Victorique nodded cheerfully. “The second client is Doug Memphis, a prison guard. His case involves the bank robber Kid, and…”

Before she could continue, a loud rumbling filled the air.

Pedestrians stopped, looked around, then up at the sky. The booming sound rattled the windows of nearby buildings. An ominous tension began to fill the streets.

Cars came to a halt. People stuck their heads out of windows of cars and buses, staring up at the sky. Faces appeared in building windows, pointing and chattering.

Kazuya, too, looked up in surprise. Something silver was approaching from the distance. People stirred.

“It’s a small plane,” Kazuya mumbled. “And it’s really close.” He moved closer to protect Victorique.

Doug, Kelly Sue, and Nico gathered nearby, craning their necks skyward.

“What is that?”

“So loud.”

“Is it a plane?”

The noise grew deafening. People flooded the sidewalks, spilling out of buildings and cars, all eyes on the sky.

“Is that…” Kazuya trailed off.

Victorique nodded. “It is.”

A small silver plane was slowly drifting across the clear and bright summer sky, its engine roaring ever louder. It circled around, leaving a thin white trail that spiraled against the blue.

“It appears to be writing something in the sky,” Victorique murmured.

“It’s writing?”

“It’s the return of Public Enemy No. 7 forty-four years later,” Victorique added. “By the way, Doug’s case, Kujou, is he wants me to stop Kid’s raid on the Federal Reserve Bank.”

“What?!”

“See? I told you he’d show up!” Doug exclaimed.

Kelly Sue whistled, then covered her mouth, muttering, “S-Sorry.”

Nico, meanwhile, was panicking. Kazuya urged him to take photos, and he grabbed his camera and started snapping pictures.

Welcoming honks came from the parked cars. The crowd cheered. What was a normal everyday scene had turned into what felt like a festival.

Across the blue sky, written in contrails, were the words: “Sorry to keep you waiting, Federal Reserve Bank! KID”