Authors: David Peace
*
From Shimbashi to Atago. Up the stairs to the office –
No Fujita. No Fujita. No Fujita
…
But Ishida is here; Ishida with his head down on his desk –
I shake him. I pull his hair. I whisper, ‘Where’s Detective Fujita? Quickly! Come on! Where is he? Tell me! Quickly!’
Ishida shakes his head. Ishida starts to apologize –
I shake him again. I slap him. I hiss, ‘Tell me!’
Ishida apologizes and apologizes –
Bodies stir. Bodies wake
…
I push him away –
I run again.
*
From Atago back through Shimbashi. From Shimbashi through Ginza. Through Ginza to Hatchōbori.
The city getting darker and darker, the lights fewer and fewer
. Through Hatchōbori and across the Kameshima River. Across the Kameshima River to Shinkawa. Through Shinkawa and across the Eitaibashi Bridge.
The city getting flatter and flatter, the buildings getting fewer and fewer
. Across the Eitaibashi Bridge into Monzen-nakachō. Monzen-nakachō up to Fukagawa, the dark burnt field where Fukagawa once stood –
Air raid! Air raid! Here comes an air raid!
The endless burnt field where now stands but a lone chimney here, a lone chimney there; the bathhouses and the factories but rubble and dust.
Red! Red! Incendiary bomb!
The hull of a hospital, the shell of a school, the rest is all ash and weeds.
Run! Run! Get a mattress and sand!
An endless field of ash and weeds –
Air raid! Air raid! Here comes an air raid!
This is where Fujita’s house once stood –
Black! Black! Here come the bombs!
His house gone. His family gone –
Cover your ears! Close your eyes!
Fujita has nothing left to lose –
I stand before the ruins of his home, before the scorched stone steps and the charred tree stump, panting and sweating, itching and itching, and now I begin to weep as a gust of wind raises the thick, brown dust that covers the lot where his house once stood and bangs the loose sheets of iron on the neighbouring shacks, drowning out the sound of my sobs, of my scream –
Get off your knees!
Tokyo, 89°, cloudy
I have walked all night through fields of ash to find him here; Detective Fujita sitting in the early morning shade on the steps of the Atago police station with his face to the sun, his eyes closed, a new Panama hat in one hand and a freshly lit cigarette in the other –
I stand over him. I block out the light. I say, ‘Good morning.’
‘Good morning,’ he replies but he does not open his eyes –
I tell him, ‘Let’s go for a walk, please. We need to talk.’
‘Talk about what?’ he asks me, his eyes still closed –
‘Hayashi Jo,’ I say. ‘Matsuda Giichi. Senju Akira.’
Now Detective Fujita opens his eyes. He gets to his feet. He wipes away the dust from his trousers. Now he says, ‘Lead on.’
My eyes ache. My head aches. My belly aches
…
In the old grove across the road, among the cedars and the bamboo, we stand in the shadows and the sunlight, black and white patterns across our clothes and across our faces –
‘They missed you yesterday,’ I say. ‘Adachi and Kanehara. They were both asking where you were…’
Fujita bows ever so slightly and says, ‘I’m sorry. It couldn’t be helped. I had to meet someone…’
‘I hear you met Hayashi from the
Minpo
…’
Fujita laughs.
‘Minpo, Minshū, Akahata
…’
‘What did Hayashi want?’ I ask him.
‘Blackmail. Extortion. Money.’
‘He tried to blackmail you?’
‘Not only me. You too.’
‘Me?’ I ask. ‘Why?’
‘He knows things.’
‘Things about you and Nodera Tomiji?’ I ask him. ‘Things about you and the murder of Matsuda Giichi?’
‘All lies,’ hisses Fujita. ‘All lies.’
‘Is that what you told Hayashi?’
‘I didn’t tell Hayashi anything,’ says Fujita. ‘I just wanted him gone and now he’s gone and he won’t be coming back.’
My stomach aches. My head aches. ‘Really?’
‘I paid him to go. To not come back.’
‘How much did you pay him?’
‘Forget it,’ smiles Fujita.
‘No,’ I say. ‘How much?’
‘Forget it!’ he snaps –
I nod. I bow to him. I thank him. Then I ask him, ‘But do you know where Hayashi is now?’
‘He’s running,’ says Fujita. ‘Running from Tokyo. Running from this life. His turn to change his name. To change his job. He’ll not be back, I promise you.’
I tell him, ‘Senju Akira wants a name from me.’
‘Whose name does he want?’ asks Fujita.
‘The name that set up Nodera Tomiji.’
‘Or what?’
‘Or he’ll make things difficult for me.’
‘So give him Hayashi’s name,’ laughs Detective Fujita. ‘Hayashi doesn’t need it any more.’
‘But how do you know he won’t come back?’
‘I just know,’ he laughs again. ‘Trust me.’
‘But how do you know…?’
Detective Fujita steps closer. Fujita whispers, ‘I told him I’d kill him if I ever saw him again.’
*
I have vomited in the toilets of Atago police station.
Black bile
. Now I stand over the sink. I spit. I wipe my mouth. I turn on a tap. I wash my face. I look up into the mirror. I stare into the mirror –
No one is who they say they are…
I stand up in front of the First Team, the Second Team and all the uniforms from the Atago, Meguro and Mita police stations as Chief Inspector Kanehara reviews the progress of the investigation to date; the searches of the two crime scenes in Shiba Park have been completed; the statements of the witnesses have been taken; the autopsies have been conducted; the initial stages of the investigation
have been successfully completed bar the identification of the bodies, which is scheduled for later this morning; then the second stage of the investigation will begin –
I swallow
…
‘All reports must be completed and submitted to Headquarters this morning,’ Adachi is now telling the First Team, the Second Team and the uniforms from the Atago, Meguro and Mita police stations. ‘Following the completion of the identification process, there will be a second meeting later today at 4 p.m.’
‘Attention!’ shouts one of the sergeants –
‘Bow!’ the sergeant shouts –
‘Dismissed!’
I run back to the toilets. I vomit again.
Brown bile
. I walk over to the sink. I spit. I wipe my mouth. I turn on a tap. I wash my face. I look up into the mirror. I stare into the mirror –
No one is who they say they are
…
In the upstairs corridor I wait for Nishi and Kimura. I take them to one side. I ask them, ‘Have you written up your reports?’
They both nod. They both say, ‘Yes, we have.’
‘Then I want you to go to Toshima Ward,’ I tell them. ‘I want you to go to the ward office. I want you to ask again about this Takahashi of Zōshigaya, Toshima…’
Kimura nods again but Nishi says, ‘The First Team have already been up there.’
‘I know that,’ I tell him. ‘And I know they couldn’t find him or any mention of him, but his name on a statement of employment in his bag in that park is the only name we have found so far and, remember, our body is only bones and those bones need a name or they’ll always be bones…’
Nishi nods. Kimura nods. They both bow. They both turn to leave. I wait until they’ve gone and then I run. I run back to the toilets to vomit a third time.
Yellow bile
. I turn on the tap. I wash my face. I look up into the mirror. I stare into the mirror –
No one is who they say they are
…
Ishida is wiping down the chairs and the tables, sweeping up the floor and the doorway, straightening our banner. Ishida looks up. He sees me. He flinches. Then he stands to attention –
‘At ease,’ I say as he bows and apologizes –
I ask, ‘Have you written up your report?’
He nods. He says, ‘Yes, I have, sir.’
‘Then I want you to do something for me,’ I tell him. ‘I want you to go to the offices of the
Minpo
newspaper…’
Ishida nods. Ishida bows again –
‘I want you to ask to see a Hayashi Jo…’
Ishida takes out his notebook –
‘Tell Hayashi to come see me…’
Ishida licks his pencil tip –
‘Now if he’s not there, I want you to find out who he has seen recently, where he has gone and when he’ll be back.’
Ishida nods. Ishida says, ‘I understand, sir.’
‘I’m depending on you, Ishida.’
Ishida nods. He bows. He turns to leave. Now I run again. Back to the toilets of Atago police station. I vomit again.
Grey bile
. Four times I have vomited in the toilets of Atago police station.
Black bile, brown bile, yellow bile and grey
. Four times I have looked into the mirror. Four times I have stared into that mirror –
I don’t want to remember. But in the half-light
…
Four times I have screamed into the glass –
In the half-light, I can’t forget. I can’t forget
…
I have screamed into my own face –
No one is who they say they are!
*
Inspectors Kanehara, Adachi and Kai have already left for Metro Headquarters, left in a car without me.
Ton-ton
. But I am glad.
Ton-ton
. I don’t care.
Ton-ton
. I want to walk.
Ton-ton
. In the shit.
Ton-ton
. In the dust.
Ton-ton
. In the dirt.
Ton-ton
. There is a typhoon approaching Japan.
Ton-ton
. But it won’t hit Tokyo.
Ton-ton
. Not this time.
Ton-ton
. Not this one.
Ton-ton
. But the air is still heavy with its approach.
Ton-ton
. The people wilting in the streets.
Ton-ton
. The stalls at the sides of the road quiet.
Ton-ton
. Men sat on their butts slowly shelling nuts to sell, slowly stripping down old wirelesses for parts.
Ton-ton
. Nut by nut, part by part, as slowly as they can.
Ton-
ton. Frightened to finish, frightened of having no more nuts to shell, of having no more wirelesses to strip, of having nothing more to do –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton
…
Nothing more to do but think, think about food –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton
…
My stomach aches. My head aches –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton
…
My feet ache. My eyes ache –
Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton
…
I curse! I curse! I curse!
Ton-ton. Ton-ton
…
I curse myself –
Ton-ton
.
*
I knock on the door to Chief Kita’s office. I open it. I bow deeply. I apologize profusely. I take my seat at the table; the same people, the same place, the same time and the same two conversations every day but today I am late so I have missed all their talk of the Tokyo trials and the rumours of purges. Now the talk around the table has turned again to SCAP, to their so-called reforms, all of which are based on the recommendations of former New York Police Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine, and to the SCAP puppet Tanikawa, the chief of the Police Affairs Bureau at the Home Ministry –
‘He’s helping them purge good hard-working officers,’ Kanehara is saying, ‘and replacing them with policewomen, turning female clerks into police officers, giving them the authority to arrest suspects or to take them back to the stations…’
‘Tanikawa is a fool,’ agrees Adachi. ‘A fool and a stooge.’
‘He might be a fool and a stooge,’ says Kanehara, ‘but he’s not finished yet; have you seen the kind of reforms they want to include in the proposed new Police Bill? Not only policewomen with powers of arrest and detention, but an emphasis on the recruitment of college graduates above all other recruits…’
‘All communists,’ says Kai –
‘Exactly,’ continues Kanehara. ‘And then let’s not forget the centrepiece of the Bill; the prevention of unreasonable or unjustifiable detention in police cells or jails. You know what this will mean? That for every single suspect you pick up, there will have to be either some proof of guilt or some actual charge. There will be no more picking people up and holding them until you find the evidence or gain a confession. There will have to be either evidence
or a charge before you can touch them. If not, then you’ll be the one charged – with violating the suspect’s human rights!’
‘Human rights!’ everyone laughs.
‘Like all this talk of new uniforms,’ says Kai. ‘All these calls for less militaristic ones, of blue instead of khaki, of sleeve stripes instead of shoulder boards. All this talk of new uniforms when we barely have enough men left…’
‘We’ve asked and asked and asked them for new uniforms,’ says Kanehara. ‘New uniforms and new boots or, if not new uniforms or new boots, then new material to patch up our old uniforms or new soles for our old boots, anything that stops our men looking like tramps and being despised by the public as tramps…’
‘And they’ve promised and promised us,’ says Adachi –
‘Yes,’ says Kanehara. ‘But that’s all they’ve done…’
The same people, the same place, the same time and the same two conversations every day, meeting after meeting until there is another knock on the door and another interruption –
‘Excuse me,’ says another uniform –
‘What is it?’ barks the chief –
‘The mothers are ready, sir.’
*
The autopsies have been performed, the search of the area has been completed, and five of the mothers have been told to come back to Headquarters. Five mothers who read the morning paper or heard the news from neighbours two days ago. Five mothers who have taken out their last good kimonos again. Five mothers who have called upon their other daughters or their sisters for a third time. Five mothers who have once again begged the streetcar or train fare up to Sakuradamon. Five mothers still looking for their daughters –
Five mothers praying we have not found them.
A uniformed officer opens the door to the reception room for Inspector Kai and me. Kai and I apologize to these five mothers for keeping them waiting, these five mothers in their last good kimonos, their other daughters or their sisters at their sides –
Praying and praying and praying
…
These five mothers whose daughters’ ages and descriptions, their heights and their weights, the scars their daughters bore or the
teeth their daughters lost, the clothes they were wearing and the shoes on their feet, the bags they were carrying –
On the days they were last seen
…
These features and descriptions that help us eliminate or match the missing to the dead, these features and descriptions that have brought these mothers back here –
Their hands in their laps
…
These five mothers who stare up at us now as Kai asks, ‘Which one of you is Mrs. Midorikawa of Meguro Ward?’
Blinking and nodding, Mrs. Midorikawa gets to her feet with the help of her two other daughters. Blinking and nodding, Inspector Kai and I lead them into a smaller room next to the reception room. Blinking and nodding, Mrs. Midorikawa sits between her two older daughters. Blinking and nodding, Mrs. Midorikawa is twisting a piece of cloth in her hands. Blinking and nodding, Mrs. Midorikawa is staring at another piece of cloth on the table. Blinking and nodding, the tears already running down her cheeks. Blinking and nodding –
The red
haramaki
with the five darned holes
…
‘It was her father’s. Ryuko darned it herself,’ she tells us. ‘Five times. Replaced the buttons.’
Blinking and nodding as Inspector Kai picks up the
haramaki
, folding it in two and then wrapping it back up inside the brown paper, the crumpled brown paper –
‘Ryuko darned it herself,’ she repeats, blinking and nodding. ‘Ryuko darned it herself.’
I excuse myself. I step outside. I go back into the reception room next door. The four other mothers look up at me. The four other mothers stare up at me –
Mouths open
…
I tell the four mothers that a car will take them up to the Keiō University Hospital.