5

August 19, 1946

Tokyo, 87°, moonless & cloudy

The three of us leave the Salon Matsu, leave Kanda and walk back towards Headquarters. I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari. This time we walk back along the other side of the tracks, the Nihonbashi side, on the opposite side to the old Imperial Palace and the new. I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari. This side we don’t have to show our notebooks –

There are no Victors here. No white stars. No lights at all –

From Sotobori to the Yaesu entrance of Tokyo station –

Five trucks in a row. Five trucks full of Formosans –

But not all Formosans, some are Japanese…

Kimura looks at Nishi. Nishi looks at me –

No radio. No telephone. No car…

‘Boss?’ shouts Nishi. ‘What are you doing, Boss? Boss?’

I am walking towards the five trucks. I am taking out my police notebook. I am holding up my ID. I am approaching the passenger door of the first truck. I’m reaching up and opening the door of the truck and shouting, ‘I want you out of these trucks now!’

But now I’m looking up at a submachine gun –

Skin to the metal, metal to the skin…

Fingers on the trigger of the gun –

Bullet through my skin…

I am waiting to die –

Praying…

But the bullet never comes; not yesterday, not today and not tomorrow; not over there and not back here –

I can’t die. I can’t die…

It’s not a bullet to the gut that sends me sprawling back across the ground, it’s a boot to the gut as the trucks speed away down Sotobori-dōri towards Shimbashi –

Towards Senju Akira –

I’m already dead.

*

By the time I have got back to my feet, by the time Kimura, Nishi and I have started to run, by the time we have reached Headquarters, by the time we have repeated and reported our story four or five times, by the time we have been given a telephone that works, by the time we have requested reinforcements, by the time the reinforcements have been raised, by the time the reinforcements have been deployed, by the time we all get down to the Shimbashi Market –

It’s too late…

The Formosan trucks have been and gone –

The shots have been fired –

The blood spilled –

The battle over –

For now –

‘Kuso Formosan shits,’ Senju’s men, the former Matsuda men, all cursing. ‘Kuso American shits. Kuso police shits. Kuso Formosan shits. Kuso American shits. Kuso police shits. Kuso …’

‘Kuso … Kuso … Kuso … Kuso…’

Two dead. Eight injured –

But not Senju Akira –

Never Senju –

Senju with a short sword in one hand and a pistol in the other, his sleeveless white undershirt and the top of his haramaki spotted with fresh blood –

‘Lucky I was elsewhere on business,’ says Senju. ‘A stray bullet here, a stray bullet there and then where would we be?’

Senju takes off his American sunglasses now –

Senju stood before his men, before his troops; the Sho gun of Shimbashi beneath the night sky, outside his emergency field headquarters; the emperor of all he surveys –

‘Where would you be, detective?’

I shrug my shoulders but I do not reply to him. I say nothing –

Nishi, Kimura and half of Atago are here with me tonight –

I am here as a policeman tonight. I am not here to beg…

More to the point,’ continues Senju. ‘Where were the police? Nowhere, that’s where. These Koreans, Formosans and Chinese, they try to walk all over us and where are you? Nowhere…

‘And what do you do? Nothing …’ he sighs –

I curse him. I curse him. I curse him…

‘Nothing but beg…’

The stall-holders of the New Life Market, all risen from their sleep, roused from their dreams, are lining up to give Senju their support and their supplies for the coming war, bowing as they offer him their best sake, meat and polished white rice –

I am here as a policeman…

‘Because if I’ve got money, if I’ve got cigarettes, if I’ve got alcohol or some special food in, then I can always find a policeman, I can always count on meeting one or tripping over one grovelling around on his hands and his knees, begging for sleeping pills…’

And I curse myself…

‘The Formosans are hardly walking all over you,’ I tell him. ‘They just want stalls in your New Life Market, just like they had stalls in your old Black Market, but you won’t give them any…’

But Senju is not listening. Senju is just speaking –

‘They act like the Victors but they won nothing! Beat no one! They didn’t fight and they didn’t win. They just got lucky! Lucky to be allowed over here and lucky to still be here…’

‘There weren’t only Formosans in those trucks,’ I tell him. ‘There were Japanese too; I know because I saw them myself.’

‘When you were taking their money to keep away?’

‘No one wants another war,’ I tell him. ‘Not now.’

‘Another war?’ spits Senju. ‘It’s the same war…’

I shake my head. ‘GHQ will close you down.’

‘See?’ he laughs. ‘It’s always the same war!’

‘Then the Formosans will have won it.’

‘The Formosans win?’ laughs Senju again. ‘Never, and I’ll tell you why, detective. Thousands of people depend on this market. If I let the Formosans or the Yankees close me down or drive me out then this market will die and if this market dies then so will the thousands of people who depend on it and depend on me…’

‘If they close you down,’ I say. ‘You’ve lost.’

‘Never! Never! Never!’ shouts Senju. ‘I have never lost. I have never been defeated and I never will be. Not by the kuso Formosans! Not by the kuso Koreans! Not by the kuso Chinese! Not by the kuso Yankees and not by the kuso police and the likes of you!

‘I’ve never lost! Never been defeated! And I never will be!’

‘So what are you going do?’ I ask him –

‘You kill one of mine,’ says Senju –

‘I’ll kill ten of yours, I swear!’

I look up at the night sky above us all. There are no stars out tonight. I shake my head again. I bow to him. I start to walk away –

‘See you later, detective,’ he shouts. ‘Don’t forget…’

Nishi and Kimura following behind me –

‘Because I never forget,’ he says –

‘I never forget a debt; not to the living and not to the dead.’

*

Men talk about the dead in their sleep. Men remember the dead in their sleep. Their fathers, their mothers, their wives and their lovers. Their family and friends, their colleagues and comrades. There are over one million urns containing the ashes of the war dead still unclaimed by their bereaved families. These urns contain the ashes from all ranks of the military and naval war dead. The First and Second Demobilization Bureaus who are responsible for the issuance of death notices and for the care of the dead say that many of the ashes have been transferred to their institution in a haphazard fashion and they are increasingly unable to verify whether all the ashes and remains of the war dead in their care actually belong to those of military personnel. The Bureaus are also encountering numerous difficulties in returning the ashes of the dead to their relatives who have often moved from their former addresses or had them destroyed. Moreover, the absence of claimants is usually as a result of death –

Their stomachs empty, their dreams lost…

Up until this June, the Demobilization Bureaus also received a grant of fifteen yen for taking care of each individual urn. However, since June, these institutions have been deprived of this grant. Lack of these finances has made it impossible for the institutions to order the construction of new boxes for depositing the ashes. Presently, new boxes are still being made out of lumber in stock but the day will soon come when the ashes of the war dead will have to be returned to their relatives in ordinary plain brown wrapping paper –

They are hungry, they are starving…

Men talk about the dead in their sleep. Men remember the dead in their sleep; their fathers, their mothers, their wives and their lovers; their family and friends, their colleagues and comrades. Men talk about ghosts and demons in their sleep –

Their masters gone…

I have sat in this borrowed chair with my head on this borrowed desk through the rest of the night. I have closed my eyes but I have not slept. I open my eyes but I do not wake. I read their reports. I read old newspapers. Now the dawn is coming up but it still feels old. Dead. Like the last light at the beginning of a long night. Lost and dead. Not a new morning. No new mornings here. I sit up in my borrowed chair. I look around. No Fujita. I close my eyes again –

Tonight I will sleep. Tonight I will sleep. Tonight I will…

I open them. I look up at the uniform standing over me –

The uniformed officer has a telegram in his hand.

*

Four officers from Takanawa are unbuttoning their uniforms. The mosquitoes circle. The four officers strip down to their underwear. The mosquitoes attack. The four officers jump into the Shiba Canal. The water stinks. The four officers swim over to the wooden door floating in the canal. The water black. The four officers guide the door towards the side of the canal where we are all stood. In the sun. The chief nods. In the heat. The four officers turn over the door. I curse. The body of a drowned man, naked and bound to the door –

Hayashi Jo naked and bound to the back of the door…

Bound with his hands and feet nailed to the door –

His hands and feet then nailed to the door…

The door then thrown into the canal –

Hayashi face down in the water…

His mouth and lungs full –

He drowns as he floats…

Bound and nailed –

I kneel before him. I say, ‘Hayashi Jo of the Minpo paper.’

*

Was it Senju or Fujita? Nobody knows his name. Everybody knows his name. Fujita or Senju? Nobody cares. Everybody cares. Senju or Fujita? The day is night. The night is day. Fujita or Senju? Black is white. White is black. Senju or Fujita? The men are the women. The women are the men. Fujita or Senju? The brave are the frightened. The frightened are the brave. Senju or Fujita? The strong are the weak. The weak are the strong. Fujita or Senju? The good are the bad. The bad are the good. Senju or Fujita? Communists should be set free. Communists should be locked up. Fujita or Senju? Strikes are legal. Strikes are illegal. Senju or Fujita? Democracy is good. Democracy is bad. Fujita or Senju? The aggressor is the victim. The victim is the aggressor. Senju or Fujita? The winners are the losers. The losers are the winners. Fujita or Senju? Japan lost the war. Japan won the war. Senju or Fujita? The living are the dead. The dead are the living. Fujita or Senju? I am alive. I am dead –

Senju or Fujita? Fujita or Senju?

I am one of the lucky ones.

*

Two dead and eight injured down at Shimbashi; the body in the Shiba Canal; it has been a bad night and a bad morning. And the Victors want answers; the Victors have summoned the chief to the Public Safety Division. Now the chief wants answers; now the chief has summoned us all back to Metropolitan Police Headquarters –

The heads of all sections. The heads of all rooms…

‘There will be no gang wars,’ says the chief. ‘I’ll ask for the closure of all the markets. I’ll ask for Eighth Army reinforcements from GHQ. But there will be no gang wars in Tokyo…

‘They think they can do what they want,’ the chief continues. ‘But they don’t appreciate the help we give them. They don’t appreciate the protection we give them. They don’t appreciate the trouble we spare them. And all I ask for is peace.’

‘But it’s not our local gangs who started this,’ says Kanehara. ‘It’s the Formosans and the mainland Chinese muscling in…’

‘And the Koreans,’ adds Inspector Adachi –

‘And the Americans are protecting them,’ says Kanehara. ‘They let these immigrant people do what they want while they punish the ordinary tekiya who are just trying to run their stalls…’

‘And we can’t step in,’ says Adachi. ‘Because if the police are seen to step in on the side of the Japanese against the Formosans or the Koreans then we risk being purged for mistreating immigrants and reverting to our old Japanese ways, ignoring human rights and abandoning democratic freedoms but, if not us, if not the police, then who is there left but the gangs themselves to protect the human rights and democratic principles, the lives and livelihoods of the tekiya?’

‘Divide and conquer,’ says Kanehara. ‘Divide and rule.’

‘And I know all that and I will tell them that,’ says the chief. ‘But you tell your men in the gangs that they’ll have to choose…’

He is fighting for his rights, fighting for his freedoms…

‘Either open war,’ says the chief. ‘Or open markets.’

*

They will find Hayashi’s name. They will visit Hayashi’s address. They will talk to Hayashi’s family. They will visit Hayashi’s office. They will talk to Hayashi’s colleagues. They will find Hayashi’s stories. They will read Hayashi’s stories. They will talk to Hayashi’s contacts. They will find Hayashi’s notes. They will read Hayashi’s notes. They will talk to Hayashi’s snitches and they will tell them –

They will tell them my name and they will come for me –

Just like we have come today for Kodaira Yoshio –

Nothing moves on the streets of Shibuya. It is almost noon on the hottest day of the year. Nothing moves outside the house in Hanezawamachi. Ninety-one degrees in the shade now. Room #2 are here as back-up for Room #1. Pairs of men on every corner. Down every alleyway. In every doorway. Inspector Kai is in command. Inspector Kai has his whistle in his hand. Inspector Kai looks at his watch again. Chiku-taku. Inspector Kai puts his whistle to his lips –

Through the front door. Up the steps. Into the second floor room where Kodaira Yoshio is sleeping naked beneath a mosquito net, his wife covering her breasts, reaching for their child –

Kodaira Yoshio dragged out from under the net by his feet onto the mats and back down the stairs –

Kodaira pulling on his trousers. Kodaira pulling on his shirt. Kodaira buttoning up his trousers. Buttoning up his shirt as he goes, putting on his army boots –

In the back of the car. Another middle-aged man. Kodaira rubs the top of his skull. Kodaira scratches his balls. In the back of the car. Face gaunt. Kodaira blinks. Kodaira rubs his eyes. In the back of the car. Hair thinning. Kodaira grins. Kodaira laughs. In the back of the car. Kodaira looks like Kai, Kodaira looks like Kanehara and he looks like me…

Like me…

There are press all over the road and the steps outside the Atago police station. Kodaira accepts a cigarette. The car turns back onto Sakurada-dōri and then right onto Meguro-dori. Kodaira chats about the weather. The car turns right again onto Yamate-dōri and then follows the Meguro River along to the Meguro police station –

Kodaira speaks with maturity. He speaks with authority –

This is where Kodaira Yoshio will be interrogated –

Kodaira is grinning now. Kodaira laughing –

This is where Kodaira will confess.

But the Meguro police are angry. The Meguro police have been used for legwork since the two bodies were found in Shiba Park. Now the Meguro police are being kicked out of their own offices. In the dark and out of the loop, the Meguro police sulk and sweat –

Two men from Room #1 take Kodaira up the stairs –

They give him tea. They give him a cigarette –

Then they leave him to drink and to smoke –

They leave him to wait and to think.

Chief Inspector Kanehara, Inspector Kai and the rest of Room #1 take over another office down the corridor, clearing desks and emptying drawers, moving files and stealing pencils –

The Meguro police just watching and cursing, left sulking and sweating, in the dark and out of the loop –

I take an empty chair at the back by the window as Kanehara and Kai outline the strategy for the interview, the questions they will ask and the questions they won’t –

Then Adachi is back, back with a telegram in his hand and a smile on his lips. ‘This just got here from Nikkō. He’s killed before.’

‘And we’ve both seen this before, detective. Remember… ?’

Kai is on his feet now. Kai saying, ‘Come on! Let’s go!’

‘Did you find that file, inspector? The Miyazaki file…’

‘Slowly, slowly,’ smiles Kanehara. ‘Step by step.’

*

I follow Adachi, Kanehara and Kai. Down the corridor. Into the interrogation room. No one invites me. No one refuses me. I sit by the door. I say nothing. The room is bright. Bare but for a table and six chairs. Adachi, Kanehara and Kai sit across the table from Kodaira, the stenographer to one side with a pen and some paper –

Kodaira Yoshio with his hands on the table, smiling –

Inspector Kai asks him, ‘When were you born?’

‘In the thirty-eighth year of the reign of the Emperor Meiji,’ says Kodaira. ‘In the first month, on the twenty-eighth day.’

That is the twenty-eighth of January, 1905 …

Kai asks, ‘And where were you born?’

‘Tochigi Prefecture,’ says Kodaira.

‘Where in Tochigi Prefecture?’

‘Kami Tsuga-gun, Nikkō-chō, Ōaza-Hosō.’

‘Are you the eldest son of your family?’

‘No,’ he says. ‘I’m the sixth son.’

‘Is your father still alive?’

‘No.’

‘How did your father die?’

‘Brain haemorrhage.’

‘And when did he die?’

‘Ten years ago.’

Kai nods. Kai asks, ‘What kind of work did your father do?’

‘Well, he used to have land, a farm and an inn,’ says Kodaira. ‘But he drank heavily, bought women and gambled and lost it all.’

‘So he was a bankrupt?’ asks Kai. ‘Unemployed?’

‘No,’ says Kodaira. ‘He always worked. His last job was working as an oil-feeder at an iron-railings factory…’

Kai asks, ‘What about your eldest brother?’

‘He’s dead too,’ says Kodaira.

‘When did he die?’

‘This year.’

‘And what was his job?’

‘Nothing steady,’ laughs Kodaira. ‘He used to work in the copper-smelting factory in Nikkō. Then he left that and came to Tokyo but I don’t know what he did here. I never saw him in Tokyo.’

Kai asks, ‘So who is the head of your family now?’

‘It’ll be my other elder brother, I suppose,’ shrugs Kodaira. ‘But I never see them. I never really go back there now.’

‘But you still have family in Nikkō-chō ?’

Kodaira nods. Kodaira says, ‘Yes.’

‘Let’s talk a little bit about you,’ says Inspector Kai now. ‘You were born in Nikkō–chō? Is that where you went to school?’

‘I graduated from school in Nikkō,’ says Kodaira. ‘Yes.’

‘And then what did you do?’ asks Kai. ‘After school?’

‘I left home and I moved down here to Tokyo.’

‘And so when was that? How old were you?’

‘I was about fourteen years old, I think.’

‘So that would be when?’ calculates Inspector Kai. ‘About the seventh year of Taishō. Does that sound about right?’

‘It sounds right,’ agrees Kodaira. ‘But I can’t remember exactly. I know I was about fourteen though.’

‘And so where did you work?’

‘At a steel works in Ikebukuro,’ he says. ‘The Toyo Metals Corporation. But I didn’t work there for very long…’

‘Why was that?’ asks Kai. ‘Were you fired?’

‘No,’ he laughs. ‘I’d found a better job.’

‘Which was what? Where?’

‘The Kameya Grocery.’

‘The one in Ginza?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s a very famous store,’ says Inspector Kai. ‘And so how long did you work there?’

‘Just two years.’

‘Why?’

‘I just got bored of working at the Grocery,’ says Kodaira. ‘The hours were too long, the pay was too poor and the work itself was just fetching and carrying, lifting boxes and so on…’

Kai asks, ‘And so what did you do then?’

‘I went back to Nikkō.’

‘Back home?’

‘Yes.’

‘And so what year is this now?’ calculates Kai again. ‘When you left Tokyo? Three years later? Tenth year of Taishō?’

‘Round about then,’ agrees Kodaira. ‘Yes.’

‘And did you have a job back home?’

‘Yes,’ he says again. ‘I worked for the Furukawa Company.’

‘This is the big copper-smelting works, yes?’

‘Where my brother had worked, yes.’

‘How long did you work there?’

‘I’ve worked there twice now,’ says Kodaira. ‘The first time I worked there until I enlisted.’

‘When was that?’

‘That was the sixth month of the twelfth year of Taishō.’

‘1923 then,’ says Kai. ‘Before the Great Earthquake.’

‘Yes,’ laughs Kodaira. ‘I had a lucky escape.’

‘Were you in the army or the navy?’

‘I volunteered for the navy,’ he says. ‘And I enlisted in the Marine Corps at Yokosuka.’

‘As what?’

‘First I was trained as an engineer on the Yakumo training ship, then I was stationed on the warships Yamashiro, Kongō and Manshu and I was also on the I-Gō submarine.’

‘You were always an engineer?’

‘No, no, no,’ he says. ‘Later I was an actual fighting marine. I was a member of the Ryojun Defence Force and then with the Rikusen Tai marines stationed in Shandong.’

‘And so you saw combat then?’

‘Of course,’ he laughs.

‘So you must have fought during the Jinan Incident?’

‘Of course,’ he says again. ‘During the Jinan Incident itself I was part of the initial assault on the Northern Railway Depot and then I was part of the defence of the Nissei Bōseki Company…’

‘And so you must have made a number of kills?’

‘Naturally,’ he smiles. ‘In Jinan I bayoneted six Chinese soldiers to death and then there were others…’

‘How long did you serve?’

‘I served my six years and then I was discharged as a petty officer, first class, and I received the White Paulownia medal of the Order of the Rising Sun.’

Inspector Kai says, ‘Congratulations.’

Kodaira bows his head.

Inspector Kai hands Kodaira a cigarette and then we all stand up and leave him to smoke –

In peace…

In the corridor outside the interrogation room, Adachi stares at the wall; Kanehara reads the telegram from Nikkō; Kai smokes –

Then Chief Inspector Adachi turns to me and smiles and asks, ‘You served in China too, didn’t you, inspector?’

‘Yes,’ I tell him. ‘I was in the army.’

‘And how old are you now?’

‘I’m forty-one years old.’

‘The same age then.’

*

The light is already beginning to fade now. The shadows falling from the wall to the floor. Kodaira has finished his cigarette. Kodaira is looking at his fingernails. I sit back down by the door again. I say nothing again. Adachi, Kanehara and Kai sit back opposite Kodaira –

Inspector Kanehara leans forward in his chair and asks him, ‘So when you were discharged, you went back to Nikkō again?’

‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I went back to work for Furukawa.’

‘And how was civilian life after the navy?’

‘It was good for a time…’

‘And why was that?’

‘I got a wife.’

Kanehara asks, ‘And so this was your first wife?’

‘Yes. My first.’

‘Not your present wife?’

‘No,’ says Kodaira.

‘So how did you meet your first wife?’

‘The manager of the factory introduced her to me,’ he says. ‘She was his sister’s child, his niece.’

‘How old were you both?’

‘She was twenty-one and I was maybe twenty-eight.’

‘And so what happened?’

‘We lived together for about six months,’ he says. ‘But then she went back to her parents.’

‘Why was that?’

‘She went to help them plant rice but she never came back.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because her family wanted me to divorce her.’

‘Because?’

‘Because I’d had an affair with another woman and this woman had become pregnant.’

‘So you must have been happy then to divorce your wife?’

There is something now, something in his eyes…

‘No,’ he says. ‘I was humiliated.’

In his eyes something flashes, in his eyes…

‘And so what did you do?’

Torchlight in the dark…

‘You already know.’

Death…

Inspector Kanehara looks down at the piece of paper on the table before him. Kanehara nods and then says, ‘But please tell us again. In your own words. Tell us what happened…’

‘I went back to their house.’

‘Whose house was this?’

‘Her family’s house.’

‘When was this?’

‘Midnight on the first day of the seventh month of the seventh year of the reign of the Emperor Shōwa…’

July 1, 1932… ‘

And…’

‘I left my own house at nine o’clock in the morning. I went over to the house of my wife’s family. I checked the house out carefully in the daylight and then I waited until nightfall.’

‘And…’

‘I broke into their house at midnight.’

‘And…’

‘I went from room to room.’

‘And…’

‘I hit them as they slept.’

‘With?’

‘An iron bar.’

‘You still remember the iron bar?’ asks Inspector Kanehara. ‘Can you describe this iron bar for me?’

‘Of course, I can remember it,’ says Kodaira. ‘The iron bar was about eighty centimetres long, five centimetres in diameter and it weighed about four kilograms.’

‘How many of her family did you hit?’

‘I think it was either six or seven.’

‘How many did you kill?’

‘Just her father.’

Inspector Kanehara nods. ‘And so you were sentenced to fifteen years by the Tokyo High Court in February 1933…’

‘Fifteen years,’ agrees Kodaira. ‘But later it was reduced.’

‘So how long were you in prison then?’

‘About six and a half years.’

‘In Kosuge? In Tokyo?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you were released under the Imperial Amnesty of 1940?’

‘Yes,’ says Kodaira. ‘By the mercy of the Emperor.’

‘And so what did you do upon your release?’

‘I went to the hot springs in Kusatsu.’

‘How long did you stay there?’

‘About half a year.’

‘Did you work?’

‘Not really,’ he says. ‘I was recuperating from prison.’

‘And then you came back to work in Tokyo?’

‘I worked as a boiler-man, yes.’

‘For which companies?’

‘Four or five,’ he says. ‘But I can’t remember the names of them all. This was before I went to Saipan.’

‘How did you get that job?’

‘I was recruited.’

‘Despite your criminal record.’

Kodaira Yoshio shrugs. Kodaira smiles. He says, ‘They never asked me and I never mentioned it.’

‘And so what kind of work did you do in Saipan?’

‘I worked in construction, building a runway.’

‘And how long did you work in Saipan?’

‘I was lucky again,’ he says. ‘I left in the April of 1942.’

‘And so you came back to work in Tokyo again?’

‘I worked for Nihon Steel in Kamata, yes.’

‘And for how long was that?’

‘About half a year.’

‘And then?’

‘I think it was then I worked for Suzuki Seihyo in Ōmori,’ says Kodaira. ‘Maintenance work on the refrigerators.’

‘And for how long was that job?’

‘Again about half a year.’

‘And then what?’

Now Kodaira pauses for a moment but then shrugs and says, ‘I was assigned to the Naval Clothing Department near Shinagawa.’

‘We’ve both seen this before, detective. Remember?’

‘Who assigned you to work in Naval Clothing?’ ‘Did you find that file, inspector… ?’

‘I was assigned to the Naval Supplies Department by the local Labour Mobilization Office in Gotanda…’

‘And they assigned you as… ?’

‘As a boiler technician.’

‘And when was this?’

‘August, 1944.’

‘And then?’

Kodaira shrugs again, then says, ‘I got married. I had a kid.’

‘This is with your present wife then?’ asks Kanehara.

‘Yes.’

‘How did you meet your new wife?’

‘Through a friend.’

‘And when did you get married?’

‘Last February.’

‘And you were still working for the Naval Supplies?’

‘I was then,’ he says. ‘Until June last year.’

‘What happened in June last year?’

‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘I just quit.’

‘Why?’

‘I had evacuated my wife and baby to her family home in Toyama and I was renting a house in Wakagi-chō in Shibuya…’

‘This is the same house that you’re in now?’

‘No,’ he says. ‘The old place we were renting burnt down in the May air raids, so that was when I decided to quit my job at the Naval Supplies and go live with my wife and kid in Toyama.’

‘And could you find any work in Toyama?’

‘We were staying with my wife’s older brother and he helped me get a job as a security guard.’

‘Where was that?’

‘At Fuji Seikō –zai in Higashi Toyama.’

‘So when did you come back here?’

‘About a week after the surrender.’

‘And what did you do?’

‘Well, I’d borrowed some money from a broker,’ he says. ‘To set myself up selling Toyama Medicine Boxes door to door.’

‘And so how long did that job last?’

‘Not very long,’ he laughs. ‘Just until I paid back the money to the broker. In November last year…’

‘And so when did you start working at the Shinchū Gun laundry, for the Occupation Army?’

‘Well, my wife and my kid came back to Tokyo in December last year,’ he says. ‘So then I must have started at the Shinchū Gun laundry in March this year.’

‘Thank you very much,’ says Chief Inspector Kanehara. ‘You’ve been very helpful. Very cooperative. Now we’re going to give you a little rest and some tea and then we’re going to come back in here and we’re going to ask you some more questions.’

Kodaira Yoshio smiles. Kodaira nods his head.

‘But these questions won’t be about your life,’ says Kanehara. These questions won’t be about your family. These questions won’t be about your work. These questions will be different questions –

‘Do you know what these different questions will be about?’

Kodaira has stopped smiling. Kodaira is shaking his head –

Kanehara is smiling now. ‘But I think you do know…’

Kodaira shaking his head again. Again and again –

‘These questions will be about Midorikawa…’

Again and again. He shakes his head –

‘Midorikawa Ryuko…?’

Again and again –

Now Kanehara says, ‘Take off your shirt and your trousers and we’ll be back soon.’

In the corridor outside the interrogation room, Adachi stares at the wall again; Kanehara reads back over the notes; Kai smokes –

Now Chief Inspector Adachi turns to me again and asks, ‘Does the Naval Clothing Department in Shinagawa ring any bells?’

‘Not for me,’ I say. ‘Why, does it ring any bells for you?’

‘No,’ he says. ‘But I’m deaf to all bells these days.’

*

It is dark now. The table has gone. The chairs have gone. The stenographer too. The cigarettes are all smoked. The tea all drunk. The room all shadows. Ten policemen file into the room. Ten policemen with bamboo sticks. Ten policemen opposite Kodaira Yoshio. Kodaira Yoshio stood in his underwear. Kodaira Yoshio with his head bowed. Kodaira Yoshio with his tears on the floor –

Chief Inspector Adachi steps towards him –

Adachi says, ‘In your own words…’

‘I met Midorikawa Ryuko in Shinagawa station about two months ago. There had been a train accident that day and so the platform was crowded with people waiting. I saw Midorikawa Ryuko walking along the platform. I had some bread with me from the Shinchū Gun. As she walked past, I offered her half of the bread and she took it and ate it there and then. I felt sorry for her and so I gave her the other half and she stayed near me…’

Inspector Adachi says, ‘So it was Midorikawa who followed you. You didn’t follow her…’

‘We got on the train for Meguro together and while we were on the train I put my hand up her skirt and stroked her cunt. Ryuko didn’t object and when we got off the train she copied down my address from my pass. She then visited my house three times…’

Adachi says, ‘So she obviously liked your hand up her skirt. She must have liked you playing with her cunt…’

‘I met Ryuko again on the sixth of August at ten o’clock at the east entrance of Shinagawa station. I’d told her I could help her find a job with the Shinchū Gun but that she would first need to take a written test at the barracks; that to enter the barracks we would have to get a letter of permission; that to get the letter we would have to go to the American Club in Marunouchi. This was all a lie. But I told her to follow me and I took her up the hill in Shiba…’

‘But once again it was Midorikawa who followed you, yeah? You didn’t drag her up there, did you?’

‘We found a quiet spot and we sat down together, side by side, and we began to eat our bentō lunches, side by side. But all the time we were eating, I couldn’t stop staring at her tits, smelling her woman’s smell and all the time we were eating, I really wanted to have her, to have her there and then, but she said she didn’t want to do it then, said she didn’t want to do it there. I was angry and I was frustrated now and so I slapped her face and then I stripped her underwear and I had her then and had her there, even though I knew it was wrong. I just lost control…’

‘But you’d been down there before, you’d had your fingers up her skirt and in her cunt…’

‘Then after I’d finished, she just wouldn’t stop crying and crying so I strangled her.’

‘She’d never been upset before, had she? She’d still come to meet you, hadn’t she?’

‘I strangled her with her own haramaki.’

‘You’d not planned it that way…’

‘Then I stripped the body and…’

‘You were afraid…’

‘I ran away.’

*

In the corridor outside the interrogation room, Chief Inspector Kanehara and Inspector Kai congratulate Chief Inspector Adachi. Case closed. Chief Inspector Kanehara and Inspector Kai tell Chief Inspector Adachi what a great job he did. Case closed. In the corridor outside the interrogation room, Chief Inspector Adachi congratulates Chief Inspector Kanehara and Inspector Kai. Case closed. Chief Inspector Adachi tells Chief Inspector Kanehara and Inspector Kai what a great job they did. Case closed. Case closed. Case closed…

They will eat good food tonight, their glasses raised –

They will sing old songs, their songs of victory –

‘You saw how it was done,’ Kai tells me. ‘Good luck.’

*

They have switched on the light. They have brought back the table. They have given Kodaira Yoshio back his chair. They have given Kodaira Yoshio back his clothes. They have given Kodaira Yoshio tea to drink. They have given Kodaira Yoshio cigarettes to smoke –

Kodaira smiling. Kodaira grinning. Kodaira laughing…

I ask him, ‘Is there anything else you want to tell me?’

‘Like what?’ he asks. ‘Like about Midorikawa?’

‘That’s not the first time you’ve killed, is it?’

‘You know that,’ he says. ‘I told you.’

‘Then please tell me again…’

‘Why?’ he laughs.

‘Tell me!’

He shrugs his shoulders. He says, ‘I killed my father-in-law.’

‘And?’

He says, ‘And I’ve just told you I killed Midorikawa.’

‘And?’

He smiles now. ‘And I killed six Chinese soldiers.’

‘And?’

He shakes his head. He asks me, ‘And what?’

‘And how many more have you killed?’

He asks, ‘Killed where? In China?’

‘Just tell me about the others…’

Kodaira asks, ‘Were you a soldier, detective? Did you fight?’

‘I’m not talking about China,’ I say. ‘What about here?’

But he asks me again, ‘Did you fight, detective?’

‘Yes,’ I tell him. ‘In the army. In China.’

He says, ‘Then you saw what I saw. You did what I did.’

Half-thoughts form. In the half-light. Half-things move…

‘I’m not talking about China,’ I tell him. ‘There was another body found in Shiba Park. There was another murdered girl.’

Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton…

Kodaira shrugs his shoulders again. He shakes his head –

‘Another dead girl aged seventeen or eighteen…’

Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton…

Kodaira shakes his head. He bows his head –

‘In a yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress,’ I tell him. ‘A white half-sleeved chemise, dyed-pink socks and white canvas shoes with red rubber soles…’

Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton…

Kodaira shrugs his shoulders. Kodaira shakes his head. Kodaira bows his head. Kodaira says, ‘It wasn’t me, detective…’

Ton-ton. Ton-ton…

I get up to go –

Ton-ton…

‘I’m very sorry,’ says Kodaira. ‘But it wasn’t me, soldier.’

*

I stay away from Headquarters. They will have found his name. They will be having their parties to celebrate. They will have talked to his family. They will be eating good food. They will have found his office. They will be raising their glasses. They will have talked to his colleagues. They will be taking off their ties. They will have found his stories. They will be tying their ties round their foreheads. They will have talked to his contacts. They will be singing their songs. They will have found his notes. Their songs of endeavour. They will have talked to his snitches. Their songs of courage. They will have found my name. Their songs of battle. They will be coming for me …

Case closed. Case closed. Case closed…

Be singing their songs of victory –

Chiku-taku. Chiku-taku…

The night is heavy; the heat is dark; the Shimbashi New Life Market deserted except for a few stall-holders here and there, standing in small groups, watching the reed screens being torn down, drinking mechiru-arukōru and reading the signs while they still can:

Closed for the time being. Efforts being made to reopen …

No pots. No pans. No sardines or second-hand suits –

No tinned fruit or soldiers’ boots –

No Victors on the stairs tonight –

No red apple to my lips…

‘The boss has been waiting for you,’ says the goon in the new suit as two other goons in two other new suits take an arm each and march me past the empty mats and broken stalls, down the alleys and the lanes, through the shadows and the arches to the old wooden stairs and the wide-open door at the top of those stairs –

I wipe my face. Then I wipe my neck –

Now I walk up the stairs –

Into the light –

Senju Akira is sat cross-legged before the long low polished table, bare-chested with his trousers unbuttoned at the waist and a clean white haramaki belt around his belly –

Senju calmer than before –

Before the storm…

‘I attended a very interesting meeting today,’ he tells me –

There are ten police revolvers laid out on the long table…

‘All of the gang bosses and all of the police chiefs…’

There is ammunition for them. There are short swords…

‘I impressed upon them all that the traditional friendship between the bosses and the followers should remain untouched, but I agreed that the system itself should be completely altered otherwise it will not survive in this age of democracy…’

He picks up a gun. He picks up a cloth. He begins to clean…

‘I advocated that all of the gangs should abandon the practice of living upon protection money and other such outdated and parasitic practices…’

Bit by bit, piece by piece, he wipes, he polishes, he oils…

‘I advocated that the markets be drastically democratized and reorganized into modern business corporations with even their own labour unions…’

He sorts through the ammunition, he sifts…

‘I told the gang bosses and the police chiefs that the old Shimbashi Black Market has already been transformed into the Shimbashi New Life Market and that the old Matsuda gang has now been reorganized into the Kantō Matsuda Group, a modern commercial organization under my presidency…’

He chooses. He loads…

‘That all our members have doffed their traditional clothes for sack coats like all other white-collar workers. That unemployment insurance is being introduced…’

One bullet, two bullets, three bullets, four…

‘Relief money for workers who are sick…’

Four bullets, five bullets, six more…

‘And help for the families of the dead…’

He closes the chamber of the gun…

‘I told them that we were here to work with the police, shoulder to shoulder, brother to brother, Japanese to Japanese. I told them we were here to help the police…’

Now he cocks the gun …

‘But I also told them that we would never lie down, that we would never back down in the face of threats and intimidation from the Formosans and Koreans…’

Bang. Bang. Bang…

‘Never. Ever…’

Bang. Bang…

Now Senju aims the gun in my face. Now Senju asks me, ‘What do you think of that then, detective?’

Bang…

‘Hayashi Jo is dead,’ I tell him. ‘They pulled him out of the Shiba Canal early this morning.’

Bound and nailed…

Senju lowers the revolver. He smiles. ‘That’s lucky for you.’

‘How’s it lucky for me?’ I ask. ‘There’ll be an inquiry.’

‘But it’s lucky you gave me the name of a dead man.’

‘He wasn’t a dead man when I gave you his name.’

‘So you say now,’ laughs Senju. ‘So you say.’

‘But if I knew he was dead, why would I give you his name?’

Senju raises the revolver again. Senju says, ‘Because dead men don’t say very much, do they, Detective Inspector Minami?’

I curse him. I curse myself. And I curse my dependence…

I bow before him. I apologize to him. I tell him, ‘Hayashi was nailed to a door. I thought you might have killed him.’

‘So you came down here to arrest me, did you, detective?’

I bow to him again. I apologize to him again. I shake my head and tell him, ‘No. I came down here for the Calmotin.’

Senju reaches under the table. Senju brings out a small box –

‘And here you are,’ he says. ‘Sweet dreams, detective.’

I apologize again. I thank him. I take the box.

Senju Akira throws some banknotes across the table at me. Now Senju says, ‘But I still need a name, detective. Understand?’

I nod. I bow again. I apologize again. I thank him again –

‘A name from the living, not the dead…’

I start to shuffle backwards across the mats but then I ask, ‘What are you going to do about the market? About the Formosans?’

‘They tell me they’ve not finished with me,’ laughs Senju.

‘And what did you tell them?’ I ask. ‘What did you say?’

Senju raises the gun again. ‘I just told them the truth –

‘I told them I’ve not even begun yet…’

*

We have not found her name. I stay away from Atago police station. I stay away from Room #2. We have not talked to her family. My men will not be eating good food. My men will not be raising their glasses. We have not connected her to Kodaira. They will not be taking off their ties. They will not be singing their songs of victory. We have not got a confession. They will be asleep at their borrowed desks. Their stomachs will still be empty, their dreams still lost –

Our case not closed. Our case never closed…

I push my way off the train. I itch and I scratch. Gari-gari. I go through the ticket gate at Mitaka. I wipe my face. I wipe my neck. I follow the telegraph poles down the road to my usual restaurant, half-way between the station and my house –

But in the half-light, I can’t forget…

‘There have been more men looking for you,’ says the master. ‘They’ve been in here almost every night…’

No one is who they say they are…

I shrug my shoulders. I take off my hat. I order yakitori and a whisky. I put the glass to my lips. I knock it back –

No one is who they seem to be…

‘In here every night asking questions…’

It burns. I cough. I order another –

‘About your wife and children…’

I leave it. I leave the bar –

I walk and then I run –

I run up the road –

The house is dark. The house is silent. I wipe my face and I wipe my neck. I take out my key and I open the door. The rotting mats. The house smells of boiled radish. The shredded doors. The house smells of DDT. The fallen walls. The house smells of pain –

The pain I have brought them. The pain I have left them…

I place the money and the food in the genkan –

The money and the food; the blood money…

I step back outside. I close the door again –

The blood money and the blood food…

I turn away. I walk away –

The tears in my eyes…

I hear the door open –

Tears of blood…

I start to run, to run away, away again.

*

I think about her all the time. Her head slightly to the right. In a white half-sleeved chemise. I think about her all the time. Her right arm outstretched. In a yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress. I think about her all the time. Her left arm at her side. In her pink socks. I think about her all the time. Her legs parted, raised and bent at the knee. Her white canvas shoes with red rubber soles. I think about her all the time. My come drying on her stomach and on her ribs –

‘I look like bones,’ says Yuki, in the half-light –

In the half-light. I open the box of Calmotin –

I swallow some pills. In the half-light –

The dead are the living, the living are…

In the half-light. I close my eyes –

‘Does this umbrella become me…?’

‘I can’t remember the umbrella,’ I tell her. ‘But I remember your hair, your freshly dressed chignon tied up in threads.’

‘And you followed me,’ she smiles. ‘You followed me.’

Another flash of lightning. Another clap of thunder…

‘You were afraid,’ I say. ‘You reached for my hand.’

‘Worried you were lost. Worried you would lose me.’

She turns down the alleyway, crosses the little bridge over the ditch and waits for me before the reed awnings of her row-house…

‘You returned my umbrella then beat the rain from my coat.’

‘Your Western clothes were really very wet,’ she laughs –

The thunder is in retreat now but the rain falls harder still, bouncing off the buildings and our bodies in a shower of stones…

‘You were worried about my clothes, so you invited me in.’

‘I was only being polite,’ she says. ‘What else could I do?’

She leads me into a back room screened off by a lattice of unpolished wood and a curtain of long ribbons and little bells…

‘You wiped your bare feet while I untied my foreign shoes.’

‘But you wouldn’t take your coat off,’ she laughs again –

And sits me down at the long charcoal brazier as she then begins to make tea, her left knee drawn up to her left breast…

‘Was that well-water?’ I ask her again. ‘Or tap-water?’

‘You were more worried about typhoid than syphilis,’ she says. ‘Is that why you never drink the tea in my house…?’

Now she wipes oil from her forehead with a piece of clear paper and then goes off through the curtains to the wash basin…

‘You would have been twenty-three or twenty-four,’ I say. ‘And the skin on your face had been spoilt and dulled by cosmetics.’

‘But my lips were red,’ she says. ‘And my eyes were clear.’

I can still see her through the ribbons, beyond the bells, bowing to wash her face, her kimono pulled back over her shoulders, her shoulders and breasts even whiter than her face…

‘You were always alone,’ I say. ‘Weren’t you afraid?’

In the half-light, she does not answer me. In the half-light –

Her face to the wall. To the paper. To the stains –

In the half-light, Yuki sleeps. In the half-light –

‘Black! Black! Here come the bombs!’

I cover my ears. I close my eyes –

‘Cover your ears! Close your eyes!’

In the half-light, she is startled and wakes, clutching her hair. Now she sees a length of her hair has wound itself around my neck –

‘My hair only grows when we sleep together,’ she smiles –

I swallow some more pills. I close my eyes again –

‘But I don’t want to sleep,’ she whispers into my mouth. ‘Why do we have to sleep? Why should lovers ever have to sleep?’

‘A love that never sleeps would send us mad.’

‘We never slept before,’ she says. ‘When sleep was selfish.

When sleep was for the demons. When sleep was for the dead…’