３ Ｊｕｎｅ， Ｍｉｋｉｔｏ Ｃｈｉｎｅｎ
文字数 4,089文字
All the Untold Heroes
I always liked the movies. I had a particular soft spot for Hollywood blockbusters, where a masked hero saves the world from imminent demise. As a young child, I often dreamed, as kids do. I envisioned the adult version of myself as a Hollywood superhero, dashing from battlefield to epic battlefield, valorously vanquishing foes hailing from the far reaches of the cosmos, from the deep seas, from distant times and parallel dimensions.
I look up, and see my own reflection in the mirror. I see the gaunt visage of a man in his mid-thirties, garbed in pale green scrubs, lips curled in a wry smirk. A product of the angular cheekbones, dark bags under the eyes, and a wanly anemic face, this stranger in the mirror looks a full ten years older than his actual age.
Indeed, with age, we learn to swallow the reality that we are not all that special, after all.
As an adult, I came to accept that superheroes are the last thing this world needs. I came to believe that there were no foes requiring vanquishing. Superheroes were child’s play, they said.
But they were wrong. The true enemy would arrive at our gates unannounced, gradually eating away at the fabric of society.
The man in the mirror—sleep-deprived and shell-shocked by repeated days on call—deliberately dons his N95 mask. He suits up in PPE, surgical cap, face guard, and surgical gloves.
The thought falls flat inside his mask. He leaves the changing room with heavy legs, emerging in a sterile white corridor. An imposing metal door blocks his path. He stops abruptly a few meters before the door, at a facile barricade demarcated by green tape on the floor.
This tape is the demarcation line between normal life and the battlefield. A single step across the line will put him in enemy territory.
He takes the definitive step, depressing a foot-activated switch. The metal door opens with a heavy sigh. A fleet of ECG monitors chirp in electronic harmony, punctuated by the eardrum-bursting cacophony of innumerable ventilators.
He surveys the ICU. The dozen or so beds are occupied by critically ill patients, battling the common enemy, shared the world over.
This is a battlefield. The slightest mistake could invite the enemy into the fortress.
Or so the man whispers softly into his mask.
Or yes, I am a hero. I am a hero, waging war against this threat to humanity.
I am not alone. Doctors, nurses, testing technicians, first responders, laboratory researchers . . . untold heroes the world over are risking their lives in a war against this shared foe.
United we stand, divided we fall.
My superheroes never failed to save the world on the silver screen.
We must keep our eyes on the bright future that lies ahead, and seek the light that awaits at the end of this dark and uncertain tunnel.
He proudly puffs out his breast, a soldier bravely making the great leap out onto the battlefield.
Translated by Daniel González/Arranged by TranNet KK
Mikito Chinen
Born in 1978. Graduated from Jikei University School of Medicine, and worked as a physician. Made his debut in 2011 with
I always liked the movies. I had a particular soft spot for Hollywood blockbusters, where a masked hero saves the world from imminent demise. As a young child, I often dreamed, as kids do. I envisioned the adult version of myself as a Hollywood superhero, dashing from battlefield to epic battlefield, valorously vanquishing foes hailing from the far reaches of the cosmos, from the deep seas, from distant times and parallel dimensions.
Dreams.
.
.
.
When
did
I
forget
how
to
dream
.
.
.
?
I look up, and see my own reflection in the mirror. I see the gaunt visage of a man in his mid-thirties, garbed in pale green scrubs, lips curled in a wry smirk. A product of the angular cheekbones, dark bags under the eyes, and a wanly anemic face, this stranger in the mirror looks a full ten years older than his actual age.
Indeed, with age, we learn to swallow the reality that we are not all that special, after all.
As an adult, I came to accept that superheroes are the last thing this world needs. I came to believe that there were no foes requiring vanquishing. Superheroes were child’s play, they said.
But they were wrong. The true enemy would arrive at our gates unannounced, gradually eating away at the fabric of society.
The man in the mirror—sleep-deprived and shell-shocked by repeated days on call—deliberately dons his N95 mask. He suits up in PPE, surgical cap, face guard, and surgical gloves.
.
.
.
I
guess
it’s
time.
The thought falls flat inside his mask. He leaves the changing room with heavy legs, emerging in a sterile white corridor. An imposing metal door blocks his path. He stops abruptly a few meters before the door, at a facile barricade demarcated by green tape on the floor.
This tape is the demarcation line between normal life and the battlefield. A single step across the line will put him in enemy territory.
He takes the definitive step, depressing a foot-activated switch. The metal door opens with a heavy sigh. A fleet of ECG monitors chirp in electronic harmony, punctuated by the eardrum-bursting cacophony of innumerable ventilators.
He surveys the ICU. The dozen or so beds are occupied by critically ill patients, battling the common enemy, shared the world over.
This is a battlefield. The slightest mistake could invite the enemy into the fortress.
I
am
a
hero.
.
.
.
Or so the man whispers softly into his mask.
Or yes, I am a hero. I am a hero, waging war against this threat to humanity.
I am not alone. Doctors, nurses, testing technicians, first responders, laboratory researchers . . . untold heroes the world over are risking their lives in a war against this shared foe.
United we stand, divided we fall.
My superheroes never failed to save the world on the silver screen.
We must keep our eyes on the bright future that lies ahead, and seek the light that awaits at the end of this dark and uncertain tunnel.
He proudly puffs out his breast, a soldier bravely making the great leap out onto the battlefield.
Translated by Daniel González/Arranged by TranNet KK
Mikito Chinen
Born in 1978. Graduated from Jikei University School of Medicine, and worked as a physician. Made his debut in 2011 with
Ta
ga
tame
no
yaiba:
Rezondētoru
(A blade for whom: Raison d’être) for which he won the Bara no Machi Fukuyama Mystery Prize for New Writers . It was later published in paperback asRezondētoru
. Received critical acclaim for many his works, including the medical mystery Ameku Takao no suiri karute (Takao Ameku’s detective record) series.Kamen
byōtō
(Ward of masks), published in 2014, became a bestseller with 750,000 copies sold. He achieved a three-year streak of nominations for the Japan Booksellers’ Award withKuzureru
nō
o
dakishimete
(Embracing the collapsing brain) in 2017,Hitotsumugi
no
te
(Hands of the soul savior) in 2018, andMugen
no
i
(Infinite i) in 2019.
