Hiroshima Sunset

by John Kelly

Amanda had become so involved in the journal that she did not notice the train entering the outskirts of Tokyo. It was the noise from other trains converging from other lines and now running on parallel tracks that caused her to look up about her. She peered across at carriage after carriage jam-packed with commuters. Everywhere, buildings crammed together, narrow streets, and in the distance taller buildings, neon signs, traffic banked up at intersections. At least they drove on the same side of the road, she thought. How difficult would it be to negotiate traffic coming from the opposite direction? All around, the unmistakeable signs of the rat race; pace, competition, rush, and yes, the teeming masses she had expected, cramming the sidewalks, darting in between traffic, but somehow in the midst of it all, order, discipline and unruffled composure. Then, unexpectedly, darkness shrouded in, as the train entered the Tokyo subway system; travelling more slowly, but intent on arriving precisely on schedule. When the train arrived at Tokyo station and finally came to a stop, Amanda gathered her belongings and stepped out onto the station platform. Somewhat weighed down by the weird nature of it all, she wondered how on earth she would cope. Trapped in the middle of the multitude all forging their way to the exit, she suddenly found herself in the heart of a broad concourse staring at a tsunami of businessmen in dark suits, white shirt and tie, surging toward her. With mixed emotions she allowed herself to be swept along in her own tsunami, rolling forward, bracing for the moment of impact. The two armies met but rather than collide violently as expected, they glided their way in and around each other with such harmony and precision, like two flocks of seagulls approaching from opposite directions and passing through each other with coordinated grace and demeanour. Once the first wave had passed, Amanda sought refuge and the help of an attentive rail assistant who pointed her in the direction of the JR line where she would connect to a suburban train that would take her to Ikebukuro. She followed directions to the letter and reached the correct platform, but could not determine on which side the train would come. She tried asking a young girl for assistance by pointing to the name Ikebukuro on her map. The girl appeared apprehensive when confronted by a western woman, but obligingly pointed to the correct platform. Feeling slightly intimidated, Amanda sat and waited for the train to arrive. When it did, the sight of people packed in like sardines did nothing for her confidence. The train doors opened automatically and passengers surged out as if relishing their release, but their places were quickly claimed by those waiting on the platform. Amanda threw caution to the wind and joined them. Barely able to squeeze in with her luggage, she stood, staring into the back of a black suit. Not game to move anything except her head, she cast her eyes over the length of the carriage. Unlike at home where silence reigned supreme, conversations were commonplace, but outdone by giggles coming from two schoolgirls viewing something on their mobile phones. Most passengers sat silently reading, others had their faces covered with surgical masks, a common practice by those suffering a cold or virus and concerned not to pass it on to others. Each time the train pulled into a station the same ritual occurred; a mass desertion followed by a wave of new patrons. When the train arrived at Ikebukuro, Amanda joined the deserters with the same relish, only to find exiting the station as daunting as Tokyo. The stream of people seemed endless. Above, at street level it was no different; a huge junction with retail stores crammed between narrow streets, neon signs everywhere, traffic winding its way through the surrounds, and people on the move, creating an exhilarating atmosphere for a newcomer. Amanda studied the map carefully, plotted her course and winding her way through a series of narrow lanes, successfully negotiated her way to Rimi Rykoban, a small, three-level building with an unpretentious, rendered brick exterior. Once inside, the mood changed to one of tranquil serenity. For the weary traveller, the silence was a blessed escape from the frantic activity outside. Approaching the reception desk, she took a deep breath, realizing that this was the real beginning. This was where the work would start. She would soon be briefed on what she had to do, and what she could expect by way of obstacles.

  Yoshiko looked up from her desk, aware a guest had arrived.

  'Hello, I'm Amanda Blackburn. Is Yoshiko here?'

  'Hello Amanda. I'm Yoshiko,' she answered smiling. Welcome to Japan. I was beginning to wonder if you had lost your way. Can I offer you some tea or coffee?'

  'Thank you, that sounds lovely.'

  Yoshiko called for someone in the back room to take over while she helped Amanda with her luggage and ushered her toward the kitchen.

  'We'll fix up your details later. Did you have any difficulty finding us?' she asked.

  'No, not really. I just wasn't ready for the huge crowds at the station.'

  'That's Tokyo, I'm afraid. It's like that everywhere.'

  The two of them settled in the kitchen area, Yoshiko preparing coffee while Amanda sat at the extended meal table.

  'This looks very cosy,' she said. 'Do you own it?'

  'No, I wish I did. I'm here because I speak English and most of our clients are from America, Canada, Australia and New Zealand.'

  'Where did you learn English?' Amanda asked.

  'I studied in America,' she answered, pouring the coffee and handing a mug to Amanda. 'Do you know any Japanese?'

  'No, I'm afraid not,' Amanda replied.

  'It doesn't matter. You will be travelling to Hiroshima tomorrow to meet Masako. I have arranged for an interpreter to meet with you at your hotel. Her name is Mieko. She will be your guide while you are there.'

  'So soon?'

  'Yes, you have a lot to do. Masako is expecting you. You are the only one she will trust with the key.'

  'I see?' Amanda said.

  'When Quentin wrote and told her he had a key to a safety deposit box,' Yoshiko explained, 'Masako was taken by surprise and became very excited. She had long forgotten she held a key for that account. One thing you need to know is that Masako has become very forgetful, I'm sorry to say. She remembers some things very well, but about other things, she can be very vague.'

  'She knows then, that Derek Avers has passed away?' Amanda asked.

  'She has been told, yes. But don't be surprised if you have to tell her again. However, we are getting ahead of ourselves. Let's get you settled in your room. Then we can go out and have some lunch and we can talk and I can tell you what you need to know and what you need to do tomorrow.'

  'Just out of interest, do you know of any reason why someone would be following me?' Amanda asked.

  'No, why? What happened?' Yoshiko asked.

  'There was a strange incident on the plane, where I was reading the journal Quentin gave me, and left it open on the seat to take a walk. When I returned to my seat, there was a message stuck on it, telling me to be more careful with it.'

  Yoshiko looked at her dumbfounded.

  'It's possible the note was already there and I didn't see it. I had been asleep, when a little boy woke me. Quentin could have written it and put it there before he gave me the journal, I don't know. I just thought I'd ask,'

  Yoshiko shook her head. 'I don't think anyone was following you. There is no reason for that. Perhaps it is as you say. Do you want me to email Quentin and ask him?'

  'Better not, at this stage. He might think I'm panicking. I don't want him losing confidence in me. Let's just keep it to ourselves for the moment.'

  'Okay then. Let's go out and have lunch somewhere. I'll take you on the subway to Shikoku. We can visit the Meijji Shrine. That will give you some background to write about.'

  In the excitement of it all, Amanda had almost forgotten her commitment to record and write the story of her journey. As she considered the process being mapped out, the process that would have her meet Masako and secure the artefact, she began to take notes. She had still not finished the journal and resolved to complete it as soon as possible, concerned that one might interfere with the other.

  'Did you know that Quentin gave me a journal to read?' she asked Yoshiko.

  'Yes. Have
you finished it?'

  'No. Not yet. I will have to spend some time doing that tonight, I think, and try to get through it. There's still a lot to go.'

  'It would be good to finish it, before you meet Masako. She might otherwise say things that confuse you.'

  'Have you read it?'

  'No. I have only heard about it. It's all before my time.' Yoshiko answered.

  'Do you know who wrote it?'

  'No, but Masako does. She won't say who it is, but she knows. She loves Derek, but I think she is also protecting the person who wrote it, as well. We are hoping she will be a great help to you in setting the record straight.'

  'I do hope so,' Amanda replied.

  Yoshiko took Amanda out into the street and they walked back toward Ikebukuro station.

  'Do you feel like something Japanese or would you prefer some western food for lunch,' Yoshiko shouted over the lunchtime din.

  'I think I'd better stay with something western until I find my feet,' Amanda replied wisely.

  Yoshiko took her to Beck's coffee shop outside the station where she settled for some simple but filling sandwiches and coffee.

  'This city is so big,' Amanda said as they settled at a window bench. 'Yet everything seems to function so well.'

  'There are over twelve million people here and another four million in Yokohama,' Yoshiko explained. 'And you can't tell where one city finishes and the other starts. It has to function, otherwise it would be chaos. That is not the Japanese way. Everything has to be controlled and planned. If we did not have our public transport system working efficiently, the whole city would come to a grinding halt, nothing would get done, the economy would suffer and there would be civil unrest. It has to work for our very survival. Our economy is what drives us. '

  Meanwhile, thirty miles to the northeast, David and Margaret Maclean were happily taking photos of Kamakura's famous 13th century Great Buddha (Kotokuin), having slept soundly the night before in a western hotel. As much as the Rykoban in Tokyo was an interesting experience, both preferred the superior comfort of a modern innerspring mattress and en-suite facilities. They were out early on their first morning, planning to be typical tourists in this ancient capital that hosted the first shogunate government. Tomorrow they would follow Ronnie Maclean's detailed instructions along the winding track through the forest, in search of the Meijji artefact and the gold ingots. Today, tourists flock to Kamakura from all over the world, keen to see its shrines and temples, a trove of architectural gems, and wood carvings. David Maclean was keen to absorb all he could of the cities ancient cultures, but now that he was here, he was also excited about the prospect of fulfilling a dying wish for his father.

  15.