For the most part, other than listing examples of justifiable self-defense, none of the critics had anything memorable to say, just more of the same old refrains about how you have to protect yourself and how you can’t selfishly rely on others for your own safety. According to them, Mokuren was a “socialist individual,” a “peace freak,” a “Pollyanna,” a “useless chatterbox,” a “hypocrite,” and an “anti-self-defense-nik.” There was even the following sarcastic line in the “witty bits” column of the evening edition of The Rising Sun Gazette: “White Magnolia, reveal your true identity! From White Peony.”
This much was within the bounds of what we had expected. But Kisaragi brought us more significant news. The mass media got wind of Mokuren Haku’s apparent link to Inoue’s document through her friendship with me. So, she said, it was only a matter of time before a media crews arrived at the mountain retreat.
Mokuren called for her parents before the media could sniff out the location of her family home. I remembered how suffocating it was when my own house was surrounded, so I called my mom to see if she’d consider hiding out here, but she wouldn’t budge and said, “It won’t be any different there. If I’m going to be surrounded either way, at least I’ll have more fun here. Plus, since I’ll be by myself, I can slip out of sight easily.” When I thought about it later, I decided it really was best if we each did our own thing.
In an eleventh-hour effort, we planted cypress and briar roses to create a three-sided barrier, installed surveillance cameras, gathered every night for fun in the salon so that everyone inside would be able to recognize one another, and packed in as many other preparations as possible. I was drinking a cup of freshly steeped chamomile tea in the kitchen when Kisaragi pointed out, “Iroha, you’re really energized, huh?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Well, I was exhausted in the city, and here I don’t have to tread water constantly to be on guard, so it’s emotionally easier. But your energy is a little different. You are so lively and on the ball when you’re working. It’s like you’re a different person from who you were when you first came here. I was thinking how when you struggle to prepare for something, you get energized. Maybe we need some struggle, some competition to survive. Before long, it might come down to society versus the mountain retreat.”
I had a strong desire to respond, but I didn’t know what I should say. Kisaragi was right. The me who was jumpy back when I thought somebody might come start trouble at the lodge seemed like a lie. It didn’t matter that the lodge was more crowded. What had me standing guard and looking lively was a hostile attitude towards the world below. They were coming from somewhere. I could feel it in my gut.
I laughed it off by saying, “It’s like when people get a surge of foolish strength in a fire.”
“It’s okay. I understand. You know how creepy the media can be firsthand, so you are breaking your back to prevent that kind of intrusion. We don’t know when the attacks on Mokuren will turn violent, so we have to be ready to defend ourselves by any means necessary. We can’t expect the attack to come from our own ranks, and it’s not as if we have weapons ready at our disposal.”
My heart skipped a beat. We had purchased an arsenal of farming tools.
“You’ve been here the whole time, Iroha, so you don’t know just how energized the world below is now. Sure, everyone is afraid and nervous, but ever since that talk about survival started, it’s like a courageous vibe has been spreading. You can see it in people’s eyes, the way they gleam. You could even say they sparkle. I couldn’t handle it. For me, coming home from shopping without getting killed was enough to make me practically jump up and down for joy.”
I remembered the image, so tiny and far from the camera, of the compliant and calm look Miko gave Inoue, even as Inoue took out the knife. I got the feeling that now I could understand the communion between the two of them in that moment, the clear-headed connection that, as quiet as it was, could be called the ultimate rush. On the other side of that extreme place, there was no sound, no wind, just blinding light shining on a clear and still sea.
“I don’t think there are many people with that kind of fire and detachment. But once the fire starts to fizzle out, you really start hating yourself and wanna die. If that fire is what makes life worth living, there’s no point in living anymore once it’s gone, so death is preferable for the person who can’t sustain the fire. It’s like this world is here for the people who can sustain that fire. If this kill-or-be-killed situation continues, all someone lacking that fire can do is die. That’s where the whole idea of dying preemptively comes in. After all, life and death are the big constants. Those are the kinds of thoughts that wore me down and why I lost confidence and wanted to be by myself.”
“Did Her New Majesty’s silence have anything to do with it?” I was finally able to get my voice out. “My mom’s reaction was similar to what you’re saying. She thought it was because Her New Majesty didn’t say anything to denounce murder in her interview. That’s why she told me to send you her best and asked me to support you.”
Kisaragi cocked her head back and forth. “I dunno. I hadn’t even thought about that, but now that you mention it, it was pretty discombobulating. But I was completely focused on my own issues at the time...”
“Sorry. We weren’t talking about Her New Majesty, but about my current problems. It’s just that...”
“What I wanted to say was that after the fire starts to fizzle, everything comes crashing down. I just wanted to say watch out for that. That energized feeling creates the hallucination that sparks the fire. I think all sorts of trouble is headed for this mountain retreat too. I want to ward that off in as matter-of-fact a way as I can. Without getting too excited…and without any disillusionment.”
I barely managed to say, “I see.”
Mokuren kept track of each step in the process as teams of reporters inched closer and closer to Ascension Pass. First they showed up in Shinjuku Chinese-Town, then my mom’s house, next the Yokohama Chinese-Town, and they found Mokuren’s parent’s house too. And then about ten days after the advertisement appeared, a crew from one TV station was spotted on the pass. Just catching a glimpse of that horrible pack was enough to suck out all spirit I’d had up to that point and make me want to stay out of sight, but Mokuren didn’t seem to care. She even casually went down to the foothills to do some shopping.
In an exclusive scoop, the crew that tracked down the lodge trapped Mokuren after she returned from shopping, swarming around her as she got out of the car and feverishly pointing a mic at her.
“Mokuren? You’re Mokuren Haku, right?”
“Yeah, and?” Mokuren responded without a trace of ill will.
“How is Iroha?”
“Hey, so you think they’re watching this broadcast live in Shanghai too?”
The crew laughed and said “c’mon, c’mon” at the way she dodged the question. Mokuren didn’t laugh and elaborated in an indignant tone, “You all don’t know either? If you know anything about where she is, please tell me. That’s why I took out that advertisement. It was my personal missing person ad.”
This time, the TV crew wasn’t laughing either. They asked, “How many people are living together at the lodge?”
“That’s like going to the Okura Hotel and asking them how many people are living together there.”
“They aren’t making oaths not to kill each other at the Okura Hotel. A group of people who’ve made that oath is a kind of organization, isn’t it?”
“We don’t do anything creepy like taking oaths. People just come on their own, stay as they please, and leave when they want. It’s a regular inn.”
“Alright, well then, can we stay too?”
“There’s already a waiting list of first-timers praying for a spot.”
“Please let us film inside.”
“Isn’t this a world where you never know who will get killed and where? If you were to come inside, you could be attacked in an act
of justifiable self-defense. If that were to happen, I’d be responsible. So, I’ll have to say no.”
“Did you think of that advertisement and write it yourself?”
“I wasn’t influenced by or working for anyone else. I bought it with my own money and signed my name to assume my complete responsibility for what I wrote. Who’s assuming responsibility for this interview? I’m guessing it’s not you guys. You can’t really talk then, can you? I’m happy to talk openly about anything on a personal basis with anyone, but you haven’t even introduced yourselves, so I may as well be muttering to myself. It’s very lonely.”
There was no TV in the lodge, so I heard about this exchange later from Mokuren (and my mom who’d watched it). I felt scared that maybe Mokuren provoked them too much. The whole country knew about the mountain retreat, so maybe some enraged person would show up here. For all they’d include and leave out, their image of us was going to be grotesque.
According to this program, I was “the woman who launched the love suicides.” They didn’t mention the names Inoue or Miko at all, so somewhere high up their role must already have been shifted to me without me doing a thing.
The next day, film crews ascended in multitudes. I was holding my breath to see what Mokuren would do in front of the battalions, if she would emerge like an actor making a big entrance, but she didn’t go outside, and she didn’t respond to reporters. TV and internet news outlets were forced to start running speculation and analysis commentaries.
The more I checked the news and gossip sites, the more my feelings spun around in circles. All the reading wore me out not only because we were facing naked aggression, but because I had to read the same passages or phrases over and over and over again. It was like a plagiarism relay with one person borrowing the words of another, who borrowed another’s, and so on and so on while the clear reasoning grew hazier. Can people who parrot whatever other people say really claim to be living by their own strength? Without noticing that basic flaw in their logic, they were in a tizzy over how great “self-reliance” was. To me, all the people who came out of the woodwork to criticize us looked the same, with the same one face.
“Each age has its old guard, and what old guards do is guard their own interests. They are egoists who don’t care about anyone else as long as they are fine. While Moku Haku (sic) exclaims her fine pronouncements, she and her comrades cut themselves off from the rest of humanity and stay holed up in their castle like ‘lords’. They should be ashamed to be tucked away safely by themselves when the rest of us must all equally face the dangers of today. Maybe they don’t understand the meaning of self-reliance? And they want us to trust their words? Ha! We aren’t the ones spitting daggers. They are the ones who made it impossible for us to trust in the first place. Their crimes are huge.”
Company Employee (41)
Sun Rising, Letters to the Editor
“I do not know where you came from, but is it really that fun for you to bring your chaos to this Island Country? Right when we all came together as a people, proud and united in our stand and ready to defeat the threat to our security, you cut it short. Worldly gain and love suicide are not core values of our Island Nation and its people, and we will go on living our own way. So please keep your unwanted ideas to yourself. I am not saying go back to where you came from, but just keep to yourselves, do not bother us, and we’ll leave you alone too. It is customary in this country for people not to cause one another trouble. As long as you intend to stay here, I suggest you mind that custom.” —A “comment for Mokuren Haku” by a professor of Modern Asian History in “Is it enough to survive?” Special web edition of the monthly journal Ourselves
“My daughter threw her life away because she trusted the words of a good friend. And this woman thinks she can say my daughter died because she had a death wish? That’s outrageous. How can she know what is in another person’s heart? Think of all the people who trusted someone’s words and are dead now. This woman must be completely oblivious to have the gall to ask us to trust her words! Does she want to see more victims? Maybe she will say it’s still worth trusting words no matter the results. Well, I have had enough! I would like to think her rant was simply a joke. It is not a funny joke or one I forgive, but that would be better than thinking she was serious. I really do not want to hear or see anymore.
However, I do not want my daughter to have died in vain, so I am giving my all to face reality. The situation is desperate, and the reality around me is dangerous, but I think about what we can do to change that reality while I protect myself. Someone like that woman who lives outside reality and in denial should keep her irresponsible and insensitive ideas to herself.”
—The mother of a girl in her late teens who died in a love suicide (the same special issue of Ourselves)
“Irrespective of details or individual motives, those who have died on this battlefield our society has become are, for the most part, victims. We tend to be reminded of our own existence when confronted with death. A tinge of guilt accompanies such thoughts. That guilt and its attendant unremitting reminiscence are inextricably linked to the preciousness of life. This is the esprit that propels us forward, that which moves us and makes us live.
The mountain retreat community lacks this crucial guilt in regards to the dead.
We will surely overcome the chaos of today and forge a new age. When that time comes, it is incumbent upon us not to forget that our lives are forged upon the dead. If we fail to maintain an awareness of this structure, that which enables our existence will be obscured, and we will be susceptible to further identity crises.
An awareness of the origins of our individual power is absolutely integral to any effort to develop that power. We must recognize that which has made our power possible. The mountain retreat community denies the power of the individual and, at the same time, severs ties with the dead who have made individual power possible. They are thus myopic in both analysis and ethos. Their restrictive approach does not take into account the very structure or scope of the world. That is to say, their ethos rejects identification with the other and, thus, resurrects anxiety over the individual subject and weaves its way into the very fabric of today’s chaos, without waiting for words.”
—From an essay by a well-known university professor in Critical Enquiry
These were on the soft side and seemed written just so the authors could let off some hot air and theories, but there were TONS of slanderous attacks dripping with vicious, nasty, and hateful venom. And it wasn’t just written attacks. Outside the lodge windows, loudspeakers were blaring with calls that scared off the birds.
“Get out here! Scumbags! If you’ve got something to say, come on out here and say it face to face. Why don’t you show those of us who have to struggle what it looks like to be safe?”
“Iroha, are you in there too? You and your lovers reap what you sow! And it’s harvest time, bitch!”
“Hey, hey, ho, ho – the love suicide cult has got to go!”
But an image of a pass with no people floated before my eyes. On that pass, not even I was there.
Mokuren was attacked four days after the TV crews arrived. In the middle of the afternoon, the doorbell rang. I checked the monitor, and it was a postal carrier. Udzuki, thinking it was okay, started to open the door, but Mokuren restrained him, yelling, “It’s not the regular person! He’s a fake!” Several men came from behind to surround the imposter, like they were going to tackle him.
The fake mailman was caught easily, and Mokuren went outside. But as soon as she did, the guy got a sudden burst of strength and broke free from the grip of the men holding him, rolled away on the ground, threw something at Mokuren, jumped for the barrier hedge, grabbing a rope he’d left there in advance, climbed over, and got away. But he landed right in the middle of a bunch of media hounds who heard all the commotion and gathered on the other side of the barrier, so he was caught anyway.
The object he threw at Mokuren was a shuriken throwing
star. It hit her in the thigh and was laced with some kind of poison. The wound started to fester later, and Mokuren had to get around on crutches for a while.
The fake mailman was a member of a militia called the South Kantô Community Watch. The existence of the paramilitary organization itself came as a shock to the public. The militia entered the limelight for its fifteen minutes of fame. They maintained that we have to be responsible for protecting ourselves, and an organization devoted to that purpose and based on a foundation of trust was only natural. They readied themselves with routine training and espoused the notion of mutual aid in times of danger. They formed chapters from Tokyo to Kanagawa and from Chiba to Saitama. The guy who attacked Mokuren lived in Tokorozawa and was a member of the Saitama chapter, and this area fell under his precinct.
Not that it would come as any surprise at this point, but twenty days later all the charges were dropped even though he was caught red-handed in a criminal assault. They would have to turn to justifiable self-defense law, and the courts were too cowardly to come down one way or the other and create new case precedent.
In the press conference after he was exonerated, the man declared, “You can’t trust a group that says they won’t kill while remaining in their safe hideout.” Therefore, he said, “You can’t know if and when they’ll launch a massive and deadly attack, so without that information, the only option is to make a preemptive strike in justifiable self-defense.” As if that wasn’t enough, he went on to add, “We have prepared to go head-to-head. It’s like that woman says, if I have to die in the process of reaching my goal, then so be it.” I was ready to lose it. The faces of the throngs of shameless assholes applauding this guy flashed before my eyes.
That was later, but on the day of the incident, I was going nuts, thinking I had to do something as the manager, so while Mokuren was taken to the hospital, I initiated talks with the prefectural police captain in charge of the investigation. A loudmouthed band of dangerous thugs threatening to do something actually did something, and I pleaded with the police that it was their responsibility to monitor the area. The chief of police turned me down pointblank. Nevertheless, apologies for the prefectural police’s lack of courtesy and poor judgment did come my way, because over the next few days, federal marshals patrolled the pass. And a round-the-clock security force was stationed at the entrance to the lodge.
Lonely Hearts Killer Page 18