Chapter 4: Chapter Four: Mobilization Across the Board, Tokyo in Chaos

Unable to contact Tokyo Air Traffic Control; communication device is damaged.

Aircraft information transmission confirmed successful.

All instruments checked; except for the attitude indicator and communication device, everything else is normal.

Aircraft condition checked: left wing is ice-damaged, right wing undamaged, wings unbalanced; engines currently operating normally, but ice damage cannot be ruled out.

As the final statement was spoken, Vice Pilot Nakano’s face darkened.

Worry and panic resurfaced on his face.

A broken attitude indicator might not be fatal.

An experienced pilot can compensate with instinct.

But combined with wing damage and loss of balance, the problem becomes severe.

This isn’t a simple 1+1=2 addition; it’s geometric multiplication.

High-altitude turbulent airflows are already hard to balance; without an attitude indicator, you rely entirely on instinct.

Now with wing damage, balance is worse—any slight misstep in turbulent airflow could cause violent shaking, even another roll.

That outcome could worsen wing damage, ultimately leading to wing rupture.

If one wing is lost, how can you even fly?

Just wait to die.

At that moment, Wang Zun spoke.

“Open both side windows.”

“Huh?” Vice Pilot Nakano didn’t understand, but he obeyed.

The cockpit windows consist of six panels: three on the left, three on the right.

The rightmost panel on the left side—directly in front of the captain’s seat—is fixed; the leftmost panel on the left side is also fixed.

The middle panel on the left side is movable and can be opened.

The same applies to the three panels on the right.

With a rapid, bullet-like clicking sound, the two movable windows opened.

More intense airflow surged in.

The cockpit grew colder; icy winds howled, biting into skin and bone, making everyone shiver.

Wang Zun ignored it all, feeling the airflow as he piloted.

Minutes passed. Nakano watched as Wang Zun, despite the damaged wing and failed attitude indicator, maintained stable descent—then, feeling the fierce wind buffet the cockpit, he suddenly understood, his face turning pale.

“Sugoi!!”

Vice Pilot Nakano cried out.

He understood.

Wang Zun was using his piloting experience to balance the aircraft, sensing high-altitude airflow, riding it, and determining which side had stronger or weaker currents to avoid turbulent zones.

It’s well known that aircraft design is modeled after birds, which sense airflow and use it to fly faster and more efficiently.

Now, Wang Zun was doing the same.

He controlled this steel bird, feeling the wind as it flew.

At this moment, he was completely fused with the aircraft—so much so that he could maneuver it like a bird riding the wind.

Vice Pilot Nakano stared, frozen, at Wang Zun.

Is this the legendary unity of man and machine?!

Unbidden, Nakano felt self-doubt.

How could a high school student fly like this? Why couldn’t he perform such sugoi maneuvers?

Not long after.

Seeing the situation stabilize and adapting to airflow changes, Wang Zun said:

“Vice Pilot, transmit code 7700 to Air Traffic Control. We’re diverting to the nearest airport.”

“Hai!”

Deeply awed by Wang Zun’s superior piloting, Vice Pilot Nakano nodded vigorously.

But his nod was too wide—it pulled at his eye wound.

“Hss!”

Vice Pilot Nakano winced in pain.

Still, he didn’t stop; he reached to press the transponder’s digits to send code 7700—when the aircraft jolted due to airflow.

Precisely because of that.

His hand, meant to press 7, slipped slightly and pressed 5.

The earlier pain from his eye wound had blurred his vision; Nakano didn’t notice his mistake—he had entered 7500 instead of 7700.

Look at Wang Zun and Mori Takeshi.

One focused on flying; the other focused on watching Wang Zun fly.

Like Nakano, neither noticed the code error.

Though the two codes differ by only one digit,

their meanings are worlds apart.

Code 7700

indicates an emergency: mechanical failure, sudden illness onboard, etc.

Code 7500…

means the aircraft has been hijacked or is under threat of hijacking!

…

Tokyo Air Traffic Control.

Director Sada was anxiously waiting for NH137’s reply.

Though NH137 was descending steadily, the lack of response kept him on edge.

He longed for someone like Yamada Yōichi to say, “Director Sada, NH137 has responded.”

But he didn’t get that.

Instead, he heard a scream.

“Ah!”

Yamada Yōichi stared at the screen displaying NH137’s code, nearly falling from his chair.

Director Sada’s face darkened.

“What are you doing?! Why are you screaming?”

Facing the reprimand, Yamada seemed oblivious; he looked at Sada in terror, voice trembling.

“D-Director Sada, it’s bad! I just received NH137’s code—it’s 7500!!”

The words rang out.

The room fell utterly silent.

Director Sada’s eyes bulged; he shouted in disbelief.

“What did you say?!”

The code 7500 was spoken.

Director Sada’s legs trembled; he nearly collapsed.

As Director of Tokyo Air Traffic Control, he knew exactly what 7500 meant.

It was the code for hijacking.

Watching NH137’s position on the screen, especially the flashing 7500 code, Sada’s breathing grew rapid.

Everything made sense now.

Why had NH137 suddenly climbed to its maximum altitude.

Why had an experienced pilot flown it like a bumper car.

Why had NH137 suddenly stabilized and begun descending.

It had been hijacked.

Captain Hase must have been threatened by hijackers, then resisted, causing the plane to climb.

Later, when it stabilized, the hijackers must have taken full control of the crew and passengers.

Realizing this, Director Sada was horrified.

He had led Tokyo Air Traffic Control for over a decade—and now he faced a hijacking, something common only in America.

If this incident wasn’t handled properly, his earlier thought of resigning in shame would become reality.

And the consequences would be far worse.

“Alert the Air Self-Defense Force for support. Share NH137’s coordinates and all data with them—now!”

“Notify the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Inform the Cabinet Office. Hurry!!”

By the end, Director Sada was roaring.

“Hai!”

For the first time ever, Tokyo Air Traffic Control mobilized fully.

A flood of communications surged to the Tokyo Metropolitan Police, the Cabinet Office, the Air Self-Defense Force, military bases, and other high-ranking Japanese agencies.

…

Shinjuku Ward, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, home of the Japan Air Self-Defense Force headquarters.

When the air traffic control center sent a message, Headquarters’ General Suzuki Kū immediately responded.

“Send two fighter jets from the nearest military base to investigate NH137.”

“Also, provide me with full passenger and crew data. Thoroughly investigate every individual’s identity, and submit the files to the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department so they can quickly identify who among them has the strongest motive for hijacking.”

“Rapidly establish contact with NH137. Once communication is secured, hand it over to negotiation specialists. Relay all information to me immediately.”

“Also, to ensure safety and prevent NH137 from entering controlled airspace, order all training fighter jets in nearby air traffic zones to alter course and avoid NH137.”

In the Japan Air Self-Defense Force, the highest rank is Chief of Staff; beneath that is General.

For a General to issue such an order shows just how seriously the Japan Air Self-Defense Force takes this NH137 hijacking.

…

Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.

“Gather everyone—on leave or not, all of them. Unless they’re on special assignment, summon them all—now!”

Chief Saito of the police department gave the order.

“Apply for international police cooperation. If the hijacker is an international criminal, demand they provide us with the suspect’s information.”

In just a short while.

The entire Special Investigation Unit One of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department was mobilized.

Police cars streamed out of the headquarters, sirens wailing, echoing through Tokyo’s streets.

They were racing to the homes of NH137’s passengers and crew to obtain firsthand information as quickly as possible.

At the same moment.

The Organized Crime Division Two, specializing in international crimes, was also being mobilized.

Clearly, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department had not ruled out the possibility of an international criminal hijacking NH137.

…

Military Base—Hamamatsu Base.

As airport personnel raised their signal wands, signaling takeoff clearance.

Two fighter jets roared to life, exhaust gushing, air rippling as if burning the space itself, the entire scene trembling and melting with a piercing screech.

Instantly.

The fighters lifted off the runway.

Piercing through the clouds, heading toward NH137.

…

The unusual activity at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department caught the attention of some sharp-eyed citizens, who wondered what was happening.

“What’s going on? So many police cars deployed—what happened?”

“Why are the police cars heading in all directions? Are they chasing some gang?”

In this twenty-first-century information age.

Especially compared to other major powers, this island nation is tiny, and information spreads with incredible speed.

Soon, rumors began circulating online.

NH137 suspected hijacking!

The news spread across aviation forums and aviation enthusiast boards, then swept through all major Japanese online forums in mere moments.

“Did you hear? NH137’s been hijacked—Sugoi!”

“Oh my god, are we now facing terrorist attacks too?”

“Quick, notify Uncle Sam for backup!”

“The aviation authority is useless—how could a criminal hijack a plane so easily? Pathetic!”

“First, you online trolls die!”

“Hope NH137 is safe. saber praying.jpg”

…

On NH137.

Wang Zun, Deputy Captain Nakano, and the older man still hadn’t realized the transponder code had been sent incorrectly.

“Mr. Kamikawa, oxygen will run out in about ten minutes,” said Deputy Captain Nakano, who had asked Wang Zun’s name, his brow furrowed.

Although the plane had descended, altitude had not yet dropped below 3,000 meters—the cabin remained depressurized, with insufficient oxygen for breathing.

They must descend to 3,000 meters as soon as possible.

Currently, passengers could only breathe through oxygen masks.

Wang Zun glanced at the altimeter, nodded, his eyes serious.

“Alright, I understand.”

He didn’t know the cabin’s current condition.

But he was certain: chaos was inevitable.

In chaos, people would panic and breathe heavily, meaning oxygen might not last ten minutes.

To prevent oxygen depletion, Wang Zun must descend to 3,000 meters.

Otherwise, everyone would suffer hypoxia.

At that point, it would become another “Helios Airways Flight 522” disaster.

As he thought, Wang Zun glanced at the fuel gauge.

The climb had consumed too much fuel—if he didn’t fly carefully now, fuel would likely run out before landing…

The outcome, even a fool could predict.

“Everyone, sit down. Return to your seats immediately. In ten seconds, I will accelerate descent.”

Wang Zun’s voice echoed through the cabin via the intercom.

The chaotic cabin fell briefly silent.

Since the plane was no longer rolling, passengers’ panic had lessened somewhat.

Now, with the announcement, all attention snapped to it.

The next moment.

Passengers erupted in agitation, each one frightened yet furious.

“I’m filing a complaint against you!”

“How dare you fly like this? Look what you’ve done to us—my husband is bleeding! You owe us compensation!”

“Who’s the captain? I’m suing you for attempted murder!”

Though they couldn’t enter the cockpit—after all, they were still on the plane—they could still vent their rage.

They directed all their fury at the flight attendants.

Verbal abuse filled the entire cabin.

Takee Sashiko, the chief flight attendant, and the other attendants dared not retaliate, silently enduring the insults.

The passengers didn’t notice that, even as she was berated, Takee Sashiko kept glancing toward the cockpit.

Closer inspection revealed doubt and surprise flickering in her eyes.

She knew clearly: the pilot now was not the deputy captain or the captain—it had to be the two men who had entered earlier.

A high school student and an older man.

Who was flying?

No need to think—obviously the older man. A high school student couldn’t possibly fly a plane. Overthinking.

At that moment, Takee Sashiko silently thanked Mori Tian Takeshi a thousand times, awed by his piloting skill.

As chief flight attendant, she knew better than anyone how dangerous a plane’s roll was—demanding exceptional piloting ability.

Now, with the plane flying steadily, it was obvious: none of this would be possible without the pilot’s extraordinary skill.

Unconsciously, Takee Sashiko whispered to herself:

“If the plane lands safely, I must sincerely thank this man.”

“I must tell everyone the truth—his life-saving act must not be buried.”

Meanwhile.

In the cockpit.

Wang Zun controlled the plane, descending rapidly yet steadily.

“If nothing else goes wrong, we should land safely,” Wang Zun thought.

Suddenly, his peripheral vision caught movement.

Wang Zun turned his head, glancing at the left cockpit’s observation window.

“Huh?”

“That’s—”

His action drew the attention of Deputy Captain Nakano and Mori Tian Takeshi, who turned and stared, stunned.

Fighter jets??

Not far to the left of NH137, two fighter jets were approaching them.

Fast—undoubtedly heading straight for them.

Mori Tian Takeshi was astonished.

Strange—why are fighter jets here? And even if they were coming, why now? After the crisis is resolved? Too late—completely useless!

He turned his gaze toward the co-pilot and Wang Zun.

Only Wang Zun and the co-pilot, who were familiar with aviation matters, knew about the plane accident’s arrangement; he hoped they could provide answers.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t know either,” the Nakano co-pilot said, shrugging, as clueless as the uncle.

Both turned to Wang Zun.

Wang Zun was now their anchor—he was the one who had saved everyone.

In their eyes, Wang Zun couldn’t be judged as a high school student—at least not when it came to flying a plane.

Sensing the weight of their gazes, Wang Zun offered a wry smile.

“I don’t know what’s going on either.”

He was just as confused—why were the fighter jets here?

Could they be trying to pull off that Iron Man scene where he drags a plane through the sky?

But Iron Man didn’t exist in Japan—only fighter jets did.

As he thought this, the fighter jets approached.

…

(Dear readers, if you like this novel, please drop some recommendation votes—save this poor kid! I’m starving!)