CHAPTER NINE
ANDY
“ANDY!”
A couple strolling under the gate cast curious glances at Mika, who was crouched on the ground, waving frantically. Frowning, Andy hurried over to join his sister.
“What is it?” He saw the paper on the ground, and squatted to get a better look. When he read the message, his stomach flipped over.
“Is it . . . I mean, do you think . . .” Mika’s voice was hushed. “Did the Masked Medalist actually leave this here?”
Andy’s mind was reeling. “Maybe? I mean, OlympiFan could have another level—a secret level, like the time travel portal in S-Cape, or the—”
“But what about the VR players? This isn’t fair to them.”
“Oh.” Andy had to admit it was a good point. OlympiFan had obviously been designed to be as fair as possible to both AR and VR players.
“Plus, it’s in English,” Mika added.
“Well, the Masked Medalist’s Instagram posts are all in English,” Andy pointed out. “That doesn’t mean English is their first language. But you’re right—this note doesn’t seem like an official clue. It’s not a puzzle, like the color squares. It’s just telling us where to find the medal.”
“Hmm.” Mika bit her lip. “Should we take it?”
Andy barely heard her. He was still trying to think through what had just happened. “I looked on the ground for the medal . . .” he said slowly, remembering. “Through my phone. I looked on the ground, then to both sides, and then I looked up and saw it. I would’ve noticed this note.”
“So you think whoever put it here did it after Tiler- Myths won?” Mika looked doubtful. “That was only like ten minutes ago!”
The Kudo kids looked at each other, then shot to their feet, staring around wildly. Team SuperFan was still talking to Gavin Driscoll. There were probably other OlympiFan players here among the tourists. Had Andy and Mika been looking at their phones while one of them left the note on the ground?
Of course, there was another possibility, too. Andy couldn’t help imagining the Masked Medalist hiding behind a tree, watching them. What if they’d come here to see the action?
Kneeling, Andy picked up the clue. “There’s something on the back!” Mika exclaimed, and he turned it over to see tiny black lettering printed on the bottom of the note.
コンチネンタルホテル赤坂
CONTINENTAL HOTEL AKASAKA
“Whoa.” Mika stared at Andy, eyes wide. “So whoever left this is probably staying at this hotel?”
Andy nodded, his spirits lifting again.
Now this was a clue. Not a clue to the location of the Silver medal, but a clue to the identity of whoever had left this note—and maybe even to the Masked Medalist’s identity.
“I look so professional.” Mika adjusted the day pass hanging around her neck and beamed. “Thanks for getting us these passes, Mom!”
Mom smiled as she handed Andy his day pass, which was attached to a blue lanyard. The pass read GUEST, COMPETE MEDIA. Andy hung it around his neck, lost in thought until Mom cleared her throat.
Andy jumped. “What?”
“You’re so out of it!” Mom said, looking amused. “I thought you’d be more excited about this.”
“I am!” Andy stepped off the escalator and followed Mom and Mika, feeling slightly guilty. The Continental Hotel Akasaka wasn’t close to where the Kudos were staying, and he’d spent the subway ride back trying to come up with a good reason to convince Dad to take them there. But Mom had been waiting for them with a surprise—she was taking them to the International Broadcast Center.
Still, Andy couldn’t stop thinking about that note—and more importantly, whoever had written it. Even though he knew the note couldn’t actually be a part of OlympiFan, Andy couldn’t help wondering . . . what if it was? What if Team MADR had a clue that no other team knew about?
What if they could win the Silver? Then they’d have two hints to the Masked Medalist’s identity—three, if the Medalist was staying at the Continental Hotel Akasaka.
“All right.” Mom came to a halt outside a set of double doors. Her eyes were shining with anticipation. “I know I promised you guys lunch, and we’ll head to the cafeteria soon, I swear. But first, I wanted to show you . . . this.”
She pushed the doors open and gestured for Andy and Mika to walk in first. As soon as Andy stepped inside the giant room, all thoughts of OlympiFan and the Masked Medalist temporarily fled his mind.
Row after row of tables were covered in giant computer monitors and all kinds of equipment. The screens were showing different Olympic events, and everyone sitting behind a computer wore large headphones. More people milled up and down the rows, swiping tablets or talking on their phones.
“Wow,” Mika breathed as they walked slowly down a row, watching all the different events playing on the monitors.
“I’ve never seen so many screens in my entire life,” Andy said.
Mom looked pleased. “More than a thousand screens, as a matter of fact! Every television network in the world broadcasting the Games to their home countries does it from right here. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Very cool!” Andy tried to imagine how many people were watching the Olympics all over the world right now. The thought made his head spin.
After their tour, Mom took Andy and Mika to a giant cafeteria. They grabbed trays and joined the line at the hot dish area. “Have you two had katsudon yet?” Mom asked.
“Yeah, at that place in Little Tokyo in LA!” Andy replied.
“It’s one of my favorites,” added Mika.
Mom gave the woman behind the counter her order, and then turned to Andy and Mika with a grin. “I meant here in Tokyo, goofballs.”
“Oh.” Andy grinned. “Nope, not yet!”
The woman reappeared with three big bowls and three small bowls, and Andy felt his stomach rumble as he accepted one of each. The bigger bowl was filled with rice topped with strips of fried pork cutlet, sautéed onions, and a beaten egg cooked in broth, while the smaller bowl contained grated carrots and some sort of white vegetable. As Mom led them through the crowded cafeteria, Andy looked around at all of the faces. He heard people speaking in English and Japanese, Spanish and Russian, and more languages that he might’ve been able to guess if the cafeteria hadn’t been so noisy.
Mom found a table where her Compete reporters were already eating. They both looked up and smiled at Andy and Mika as they sat down.
“You guys remember James and Valentina, right?” Mom asked.
“Yes! Hi,” said Andy.
“Hello!” Mika sat down next to Andy and pulled apart her chopsticks. “Mmm,” she said, taking a big bite of pork and rice.
Valentina laughed. “Are you two loving the food in Tokyo?”
“Definitely,” Andy said, digging into his bowl. “We even had octopus.”
“Ah, was it takoyaki?” James asked, and Andy nodded. “I had that for a snack yesterday!”
Mika swallowed, then took a bite from the other bowl. “So this is carrots, and . . . what’s the other thing?”
“It’s called daikon,” Mom told her. “It’s a type of radish. That’s a carrot and daikon namasu—a raw salad marinated in sweetened vinegar.”
“Have you two managed to collect any pins yet?” Valentina asked.
Andy looked up. “Pins?” he repeated.
“Yeah!” She pointed to her vest, and Andy saw six colorful pins. Two looked like variations of the Compete logo, but he didn’t recognize the others.
“Emma had pins like that!” Mika exclaimed. “Can we buy them somewhere?”
“Hang on. They don’t know about the pins?” Valentina gave Mom a look of mock horror.
Mom laughed. “Want to explain it to them?”
“For sure.” Valentina tucked a stray light brown curl behind her ear and smiled at Andy and Mika. “So pin trading is a really big deal at the Olympics. Anyone can make a pin—you’ll see them for teams, media, other companies, and sponsors—and they’re always unique to that year’s Games. They’re serious collector’s items. Really rare pins from past Olympics can sell for hundreds or even thousands of dollars.”
Andy’s eyes widened. “Jeez. And people trade them here?”
“Yep. James had these made for us.” Valentina gestured to the two Compete pins on her vest. “I took a bunch and bartered with vendors and random people I’ve met for the other pins—a PyeongChang 2018, two Tokyo tourism boards, and this one from that sportswear company, what are they called? Ah—Enspire.”
Suddenly, Mika started to choke on her katsudon. She reached for her water, coughing loudly, then took a giant sip.
“Are you okay, honey?” Mom asked, leaning around Andy and patting her on the back.
“Yeah!” Mika’s voice was slightly hoarse, but she nodded vigorously. Her face was tomato red, and Andy noticed she kept shooting little glances at Valentina’s pins. “Totally fine.”
“You two should definitely start collecting.” Valentina elbowed James’s arm. “Let’s help them out, shall we?”
“Of course!” James produced a small bag from under the table, unzipped the front pocket, and pulled out a plastic pouch filled with different pins. He gave a handful each to Andy and Mika. “All right, Kudo kids, you’ve gotta wear at least one of the Compete pins for the rest of the Games. Promote your mom,” he said with a wink, and they laughed.
“Thank you!” Andy pinned one to his shirt, then stuck the rest in his pocket. He couldn’t help noticing that his sister was still blushing. He waited until Mom, Valentina, and James were deep in conversation about work, then nudged Mika’s arm with his elbow.
“What’s going on?”
“Huh? Nothing!” Mika said, examining her pins. “Ooh, this one looks like a butterfly. See?”
She held out the pink pin, her expression completely innocent. But she wasn’t fooling Andy one bit, and he gave her a pointed look to let her know it. Mika was incapable of keeping secrets, especially from him, so Andy wasn’t too annoyed. Whatever it was, she’d tell him soon enough.
In the meantime, Andy had more than enough puzzles to focus on: finding the Silver medal and discovering who’d left that note. For the hundredth time that day, Andy pictured the mysterious creator of OlympiFan lurking in the trees near the Meiji Shrine, watching all of the players, and leaving a special clue for just one of them to find.
It was ridiculous, of course. But Andy couldn’t help but think, What if?