by Nick Hurst
*
There was a thudding sound, then silence. Then thudding again. I opened my eyes but it was just as dark as when they were closed. I flailed around me, wondering if I was caught up in a new kind of dream. But then the thudding started again and I smelled the smoke and felt the pain in my head and the pain of my loss and I remembered where I was.
‘Open the fucking door!’
I knew that voice. But I didn’t know how it knew where I was. I groped around the top of the bed, found a light switch and scrambled to the door. I looked through the spyhole. Kurotaki looked even uglier for the distortion of the fish-eye lens, Sumida slightly bored. How had they found out I was here?
Kurotaki leaned forward to pound on the door again, looming in the spyhole. I jumped back.
‘Open the door. We know you’re in there. We’re here to help.’
‘Like you helped Tomoe, you motherfucker?’ I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. Face-to-face I wouldn’t stand a chance against one of them, let alone both. Now wasn’t the time. I hurried into my clothes and slipped on the flip flops which were even less suitable for what I knew had to come next.
I ripped apart the curtains, pulled open the window and looked down. I was only on the first floor but it still looked formidably high. I heard voices again and someone started fiddling at the door. I decided I was more afraid of them than I was of the height. I gathered myself and stepped onto the ledge.
I landed in a tiny walled alley. My first thought was that I hadn’t broken any bones. My second, straight after, was that there was no obvious way out. I looked up and down at the walls on each side, wondering if I was ever going to get any luck. Deciding I’d have to make my own, I scrambled up the back wall then tottered along another that abutted its end. I jumped down when I could go no further and realised, to my relief, that I was on the road on the other side of the hotel.
I glanced over my shoulder just long enough to see Kurotaki appear at the window. The sight gave me the boost of energy I needed. I turned and ran.
I wasn’t sure exactly where I was but I knew I needed to get away from where I’d been. I ran blindly, taking a left, then a right before cutting through a playground. I came out into a packed alley and realised I was now somewhere I knew – Ikemen Dōri. If Shin Ōkubo was Tokyo’s Little Korea, Ikemen Dōri was its Seoul Street. Its shops and restaurants buzzed with energy, drawing crowds attracted by Korea’s recent cachet of cool. I was more interested in the thick cover of people provided by the narrow pedestrian lane.
I weaved through the crush, working through my options as I went. I hadn’t been thinking clearly. The hotel might have squeezed within Shin Ōkubo’s borders, but it was right on the edge of Kabukichō – deepest Takata-gumi land. They’d probably put out word for hotel owners to watch their CCTV for a bedraggled gaijin stupid enough to turn up.
I came to Ōkubo Dōri. I needed to make some decisions quickly and I had to be sure I made no more mistakes. The next one could see me killed.
I had a head start – I doubted either Kurotaki or Sumida would have jumped out the window, but they wouldn’t be far behind. I tried to think of the most logical thing to do, the thing I’d bet on if I were chasing me. North was the scene of the murder, south was Takata-gumi Central. The sensible move would be to head west towards Nakano, or east to Iidabashi. I ruled out both. I’d counter-intuit an escape. I didn’t have the guts to go the whole hog and head to Kabukichō so I decided to keep going north. Back to Takadanobaba. Back towards the scene of the crime.
I crossed Ōkubo Dōri and cut down a narrow lane beside a pachinko parlour so smoky the fumes seemed to seep through its glass. My brisk pace and the crisp night air helped clear my head. I knew exactly where I’d go.
I was told it was in the nineties, just after the bubble burst, that the change came to Tokyo’s public spaces and parks. Waves of blue tarpaulins suddenly appeared, undulating across open spaces like a modern-day mutation of an ukiyo-e sea. Unlike the homeless of England, their occupants weren’t predominantly escapees from abuse who found solace then incarceration in drink and drugs. For many it was sheer poverty – the downturn in construction at the end of the bubble hitting labourers particularly hard. But for others it was the pressures of society and their own notions of honour that exiled them from their homes and imprisoned them outside. Their trigger was the end of lifetime employment. On losing their jobs, their response to the shame had been to leave their homes and families and take refuge in the streets – or parks.
It wasn’t only in the cause of their plight that they differed. The way they went about their homelessness was dissimilar as well. They commandeered Tokyo’s public spaces and constructed sturdy blue tarpaulin tents that they tended with pride; cooking pots hung outside entrances, shoes neatly lined up in front.
But there had been a crackdown while I’d been away and the city had reclaimed much of its land. I wasn’t sure where the majority ended up, but I knew one had made his home under the bridge where Koshu Kaido Road separates Shinjuku Station and the Southern Terrace. With rain cover taken care of he’d focused on comfort and warmth. I’d admired his cardboard cocoon whenever I walked past.
I grabbed a load of boxes as I passed a convenience store clearing out at the end of the day. Then I continued on to Toyama Koen Park. It was dominated by the concrete mass of Shinjuku Sports Center and the hard-surface sports pitch in front. But surrounding them were the trees and stretches of grass more typical of a park. And at the edges some doughty tarpaulin men remained.
They operated on a guerrilla basis now, deconstructing their mobile homes during the day then lurking in the perimeters before they set up again at dusk. No one would think anything of it if there were an extra person bedded down. I was extremely doubtful even Takata’s network extended that far with its spies.
The choicest spots had already gone, but I found a decent opening on a piece of grass between a bridge, a playground and the edge of a path. I set one box as a base, kicked out the bottoms from the others and concertinaed them into a cocoon. When they were as long as me I took off my flip-flops, put them to the side and slid in. I pulled the last box over my head.
FOUR
Dreaming of the Floating World 4
‘I may not have told you everything,’ he said calmly, sat cross-legged, his hands placed regally on his knees.
‘And what you did tell me may not have been entirely true,’ she replied, kneeling on the other side of the table.
Lord Ezoe nodded.
‘You’re right, but I would ask that you don’t hold it against me. You know I respect you too much to think you wouldn’t find out. But at the time it was judicious. I needed to continue my investigations undisturbed by other concerns.’
He bowed his head.
‘I apologise for any distress this may have caused.’
He studied her but Katsuyama remained as she was. He smiled to himself. Her beauty, her charm, her culture; they all held appeal. But what captivated him was the strength concealed within her, the steely fury she could clinically dispatch. In this she was like Tetsuko, his prized falcon who would plummet from the skies like a stone – ruthless but without emotion, at that moment living only to execute her strike. Had Katsuyama been born a man it would have been a daimyō he sat in front of, maybe even the shōgun himself.
‘I presume you are aware I had greater involvement than I disclosed in the circumstances regarding your father’s disappearance?’
She nodded.
‘And perhaps you know that I have had some interaction with Genpachi and his lapdog Mizuno?’
She noted his disregard for Mizuno but remained quiet.
‘You may not be aware that it was me who abducted your father.’
This finally startled her into a reaction.
‘You took my father? But why? Where is he now?’
‘I did take your father,’ he said. ‘But unfortunately I was unable to keep him in my care. Please, let me explain.
&
nbsp; ‘The runt who slandered your family held a grudge against your father. But this wasn’t the sole cause of his derogatory remarks and their timing wasn’t by chance. He was prompted to make them for the response their instigator knew they would bring. I was warned of this, which is why I had men ready to take your father to safety when he did what honour obliged. Unfortunately I was duped. The men I had intercept him were ambushed and your father was taken again.’
‘But why?’ she asked. ‘Who would go to all this trouble? And what good would it do them?’
‘Genpachi. I was given the warning by another so no search for a culprit could implicate him. Any trail that didn’t lead to me would only reach Mizuno, for it was men he hired who intercepted mine. It would be near impossible for anyone to trace Genpachi’s hand in this affair.’
‘Except you have.’
‘Except I have. But without any proof.’
‘But again – what purpose did any of this have? Lord Genpachi has already won his battle with my father’s lord. My father meant nothing to him.’
‘That’s where the situation becomes more complicated,’ said Ezoe. ‘The restrictive measures the last shōgun forced on the daimyōs are still felt sorely by many. Others, significant names like Mizuno among them, smart from being made rōnin. Since the shōgun died and a boy took his place, there has been talk of putting things back as they were.’
‘But there are always whispers of revolts and rebellions. My family’s downfall was caused by a personal dispute. It had nothing to do with the shōgunate. I don’t see why my father would have been involved.’
‘You’re right, but others who knew him less well were less sure and times are tense. You see, at the moment there are more than just rumours. There’s a plan to overthrow the shōgun. In the course of the rebellion, I’ll be killed.’
‘You?’ she exclaimed. ‘Why?’
‘Because it’s to be led by Genpachi and he knows my power base is independent of him. If anyone was to challenge his position, I’d be the most likely to succeed.’
‘Lord Genpachi? But he’s on the council of regents until the shōgun comes of age.’
‘He is on the council but he finds it irksome that four other voices compete with his. He also dislikes the idea of his power being diluted in the passage of time. So he’s taking advantage of this period of transition and using the disaffection of others to further his own goals. He plans to take power for himself.
‘First there will be an attack in Shizuoka. It will be made to look like a rōnin rebellion, so none of the daimyō families held in Edo Castle are harmed. But the assault will be more impressive than anticipated and the bakufu will find it necessary to send further men. When they’ve made good distance, a fire will start on the outskirts of Edo. As you know, a blaze could quickly consume the city. There will be pandemonium and the castle will be left exposed. Genpachi’s men will take advantage and attack from within; other forces will launch an assault from outside. Together they will take control.’
‘What claim to legitimacy do they have?’
He silently admired the speed of her thought.
‘They’ve turned the shōgun’s mother. Genpachi found out about an affair with one of the last shōgun’s retainers – she will concede to the illegitimacy of the child. Crucially, the emperor has no affection for the shōgun. He’ll back Genpachi in the affair.’
He paused to admire his enemy’s plotting.
‘It’s a good plan. The only way to defeat it is to expose it before its implementation.’
‘Is that why my father was taken?’
‘Yes,’ said Ezoe. ‘The senior retainer of Lord Wada, you may recall, had good relations with your father in happier times. He saw the possibility of redemption and spoke to him in vague terms of the plan.
‘But Genpachi is a cautious man. He has men watching men and more to watch the watchers. He remembered that he, not the shōgun, lay at the root of your father’s misfortune. He couldn’t be sure your father wouldn’t reveal the plotting in revenge. He decided to act so he wouldn’t have to find out.’
‘So my father is dead?’
‘Your father is dead,’ he confirmed. ‘But rest assured, he was allowed an honourable death and his seppuku was exceptional. The cut was deep and wide and he allowed no second to take his head.’
She paused to reflect, her thoughts on the honour not the horror of her father’s death. But despite his fearless embrace, the rehabilitation of their family name remained incomplete.
‘How may I avenge him?’
He had known the question would come.
‘We face a challenge, you and I: you to avenge your father’s death; me to postpone mine to a more conducive time. I considered approaching the regency but it would be my word against Genpachi’s and when it comes to the council his holds more weight.’
He sipped from his cup.
‘I visited him to see if I could draw a mistake or implicate him but I was without success. The only way to defeat him is to catch the plotters as they conspire.’
‘And how do you plan to do that?’
‘They will meet once more to pledge an oath. As theirs is a plan that needs all parties united, Genpachi wants a guarantee so none can back out should they begin to harbour doubts. The daimyōs’ families are kept at the castle as hostages against rebellion – as it has been since the last shōgun so ruled. Were any to be found plotting, their families would be tortured and put to death. By signing the oath, they guarantee this fate should they back out and the plot be exposed. Their only option will be to succeed.’
‘You wish to get hold of the oath or find out where it will be signed.’
‘That’s correct. But I’m not close to either and time is running out.’
His network had done what in most circumstances would have been a superlative job. On this occasion, what they were yet to find out could lead to his death. He looked over at her furrowed brow.
‘It’s my wish to have you at my side in this matter but I’m yet to think of what you can do from within Yoshiwara’s walls.’
‘All I can think of is getting information through Kaoru,’ she said. ‘Both Lord Genpachi and Mizuno spend time with her. At present I can’t see a way to do this, but let me dwell on the matter. I’m sure I can find a way to help.’
She held his eyes with her own and he saw that despite her calm demeanour a fire burned inside. She spoke again.
‘I don’t know if it has any bearing, but the actor Chitairō is sleeping with Lord Genpachi’s wife. I imagine it would provide an unwelcome distraction should he find out at this time.’
‘I will see the news reaches his ears,’ said Ezoe, wondering what the actor had done to fall into such lethal disfavour.
He shivered, suddenly uncomfortable where he sat. He wondered at the cause of his discomfort, whether it was Katsuyama’s clinical dispatching of a man, or if the cushions he was sitting on were inadequate, or the temperature in the room too low—
FIVE
I woke in an explosion of cardboard boxes. I peered around me and my eyes met those of an old man. He looked as though he’d been on his early morning walk but was now stopped dead. We stayed as we were, both unsure of what was going on.
My situation slowly came back to me. I was sleeping rough in Toyama Koen because I was a gaijin yakuza on the run from my gang, its rival and the police. It didn’t make much sense but I had an explanation. The old man looked like he couldn’t think of one. I shrugged and gave him a morning nod. Taking it as the closest to a rationale he’d get, he nodded back and went on his way.
I remained as I was. Tomoe had lodged herself in my mind, opening a door to a fresh wave of grief and remorse. I struggled to escape its weight. I couldn’t afford the grieving process yet. That could only come when I’d done what I needed to do.
I couldn’t sit long in a pile of cardboard boxes either. Apart from anything else I’d soon freeze. I reached for my flip-flops. They weren’t there. In a
country where lost wallets are handed in to police stations with the money untouched, someone had stolen my temporary shoes. I got up cursing and started to make my way gingerly through the park.
Winter was approaching and I caught the first edge of an arctic wind. Supposedly they blew down from the north. In reality they slapped you flush in the face whichever direction you went. Walking around in inappropriately thin clothes with, or in this case without, flip-flops got me thinking. Even with their dedication to hot pants and miniskirts, the girls of Tokyo still wore overcoats in winter. The only people dressed with less thought to their conditions than me were sumō rikishi, or the junior ones at least. They had to wear thin cotton yukata and wooden geta sandals all the way through the year.
‘Yeah?’ rumbled Tatsuzan into the phone.
‘Hi, it’s me, Ray,’ I said. ‘I’m in a bit of trouble. I don’t want to draw you in, but it’s to do with Tomoe and I need help.’
‘What sort of help?’
‘I need to be picked up from Toyama Koen in Takadanobaba. Then I need somewhere to stay for a few days.’
‘OK,’ he grunted without hesitation. ‘Whereabouts?’
He might have been a bit scary but he was a good guy.
‘South entrance.’
He calculated for a moment.
‘I’ll be about twenty to thirty minutes,’ he said and hung up.
Feeling slightly better, I bundled up my boxes and left them beside a blue tent gently vibrating with snores. Then I headed to the south exit and the convenience store that was close by. I walked out of the park and stepped from the corner onto the road with the store. At that point I stopped.
A police car braked to a standstill a foot short of where I’d been about to step.
I looked through the windscreen. The policeman looked back. His eyes scanned downwards and I became very conscious of the tarmac under my shoeless feet. I started to calculate the chances of walking past without being stopped. The policeman picked up his handset, his eyes still fixed on me. His pillion pressed surreptitiously at his seat-belt release.