Falling From the Floating World

by Nick Hurst

  I stopped thinking about my odds.

  I took a step back, wheeled around and began a fast walk back the way I had come. I heard the sound of a car door open behind me. I gave up on the fast walk and broke into a sprint.

  I’ve always been reasonably pacey but the thought of a lifetime in jail had me moving like Zola Budd on speed. In no time I was back at the bridge. I darted under it, crashed through some shrubs and came out on the asphalt by the sports hall. It felt like I covered it in a couple of bounds because I soon had the north exit in sight. Beyond it were the lanes of Takadanobaba. I could lose myself in them.

  My eyes on freedom, I hurdled the barriers at the entrance of the park. I failed to notice the police car that had been streaking along the road beside. I became aware of it when I heard its tyres screech, milliseconds before something heavy and hard smashed into my thigh. I flipped onto its bonnet and I must have been launched off its windscreen, because the next thing I knew I was flying through the air.

  The momentum of my landing sent me into an unintentional stuntman roll. It ended with me face down on the tarmac by a small parade of shops. I lay stunned, the wind taken from me. Or at least I thought it had been. Moments later a knee thudded into my back and forced the last vestiges from my lungs.

  ‘Move a muscle and I’ll snap your fucking arm in half.’

  My left arm was twisted painfully up my back alongside the right and I felt cold metal snap around both wrists. The owner of the aggressive voice then hauled me up by the scruff of my neck and turned me towards the car. He opened the back door as his red-faced partner caught up from the chase and gave my head a good whack against its frame as he threw me in.

  ‘Things haven’t worked out. Best you don’t reply. Good luck in the bashō.’

  I deleted the text as soon as I sent it. It was as much as I could do to pick the phone from my back pocket and type with my hands behind me, glancing over my side. Hopefully he’d understand – the last thing I wanted was to drag one of the few good guys of late into the mire.

  But now I had to worry about myself. The Japanese penal system can be surprisingly lenient on some offences but on others it’s indisputably harsh. Murder sat in the latter category. I was pretty sure they would look with particular disfavour on a gaijin entering their land and extinguishing one of its cultural lights.

  So even though every plan to date had ended in disaster, I needed to come up with another quick. And this one had to work. Because I couldn’t let myself be led by events. The only place they’d take me would be to my death.

  Harnessing the influence of the Takata-gumi was no longer an option. They were probably lining up a prison hit on me right then. Conventional routes didn’t appear more promising. The police wanted to send me down, not save me, and legal recourse didn’t seem to offer much hope. I didn’t know any criminal lawyers and even if I found a good one there was no way I had the money to pay them.

  I broke from my thoughts. Something didn’t feel right. I tried to lever myself up.

  ‘Stay as you fucking are.’

  As well as having a similar way with words as the yakuza, the police appeared to hold me in about as high regard. I lay back but twisted so I could look out the window from my position sprawled across the seat. All I could see were flashes of buildings. It wasn’t enough to work out where we were.

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’

  I was uncomfortable about how long we’d been driving. We’d been in Shinjuku ward – it wasn’t as though there wasn’t a station to take me to there. Perhaps murder cases were dealt with at a specific location, but it felt odd nonetheless.

  We turned a sharp corner and pulled to a stop. I looked out the angle of the window expecting to see the characterless outline of a police station. Instead I saw the gilded curves of a temple roof. Alarm bells ringing, I pulled myself upright as the policemen stepped from the car. The door by my feet opened and one of them leaned in.

  ‘Move it. You’re getting out.’

  Not until I knew what was going on I wasn’t. I swung back to my right and kicked out to the left, my foot catching him flush in the chest. He tottered backwards and I made to leap after him so I could knock him out of the way and then run. But just as I was launching myself the door behind my head opened and rough hands pulled me back.

  I was hauled out by the driver, who lifted me upright and around, and slammed me hard against the side of the car. But it didn’t drain my fight. I used the bounce from the frame to propel myself forward, aiming a head-butt square at his face. As close as I came it didn’t connect. And instead of knocking him out it pissed him off. He chopped me with a brutal punch to the stomach that would have dropped me instantly had he not had me pinioned against the door.

  He snarled in my ear.

  ‘Make a scene and I’ll break every one of your fucking ribs and then work through the bones in your face.’

  It was unnecessary. I could hardly breathe, let alone do anything else.

  He dragged me around the car to a small temple in the middle of a quiet residential street. It could have been any of hundreds of neighbourhood shrines. There’d be no finding me here.

  The other policeman gave three slow evenly spaced knocks on the door. It immediately unlocked and slid open a crack.

  ‘Watch him – he’s feisty,’ the policeman holding me said as he unlocked my cuffs.

  A man who could only be a yakuza grabbed me by the throat.

  ‘The police have their limits. Fuck with me and I’ll beat you so far out of shape you’ll be able to stick your head up your arse.’

  My mind would have boggled had it not been occupied persuading my lungs to pump air.

  ‘All done,’ said the policeman as the cuffs clicked off.

  The yakuza grunted his thanks.

  ‘Speak to Sato – he’ll see you’re taken care off.’

  He pulled me inside and I heard the police descend the steps and get in the car. He slid the door shut as the engine started. No one would be coming to save me now.

  The only light came from gaps in the wooden slats at the windows and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. When they did I saw we were stood by a collection box in front of another door. The yakuza stepped towards it, keeping ahold of my shirt at the chest. He politely addressed its occupant, who indicated we had permission to enter. The yakuza slowly slid open the door.

  Sat on the tatami floor behind a small table set for tea was Takata.

  SIX

  ‘Clarence-san, thanks for coming,’ said Takata, sounding as though my being there was a pleasant surprise.

  ‘The invitation was quite compelling.’

  He poured some tea into a cup which he pushed across the low table.

  ‘Please, sit down. You look like you could do with giving your feet a rest.’

  I looked at my shoeless feet. Above them my trousers were ripped and my shirt was torn down one arm and streaked all over with blood.

  ‘Thank you, I could,’ I said as I sat. ‘It would be great not to be on a hit list too if there’s anything you can do about that. Or if I am on one, perhaps you could just get it done with instead of having the shit beaten out of me every other day.’

  He ignored the sarcasm.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t do anything about your first point, Clarence-san. As for the second, I’ll try my best but you have a tendency to find trouble. It makes it difficult to give guarantees.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound like there’s much you can for me then, does it? You could tell me why you killed Tomoe, at least.’

  I may not have had any hope of surviving but I still had some of her fire.

  ‘If you wanted me out of the picture you could have had Sumida shoot me. There was no need to do what you did.’

  I felt myself soften as I said it, at the thought of her on my bathroom floor. I fought the vision. I couldn’t afford any weakness if I was going to cope in the moments before my death.
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br />   ‘Chōshi-san was not killed by me or at my request,’ he said. ‘Aside from the admiration I had for her – which I think I’ve made clear – I very much needed her alive.’

  I looked at him closely. I couldn’t work out this new angle, what purpose any games could have now.

  ‘What do you mean? If it wasn’t you, who killed her?’

  ‘To start with your second question, she killed herself.’

  ‘No!’ I said vehemently. ‘That’s bullshit. Tomoe’s death wasn’t suicide.’

  I was sick of all the lying, especially now there was no point.

  ‘What do you want? If you’re going to tell me the truth, tell it. If you’re not, do whatever you’re planning to do.’

  ‘Clarence-san, I understand you’re distressed but I can assure you I haven’t lied to you since we met. I’ve withheld details I felt wouldn’t benefit our joint objectives, but what I have told you has been the truth.’

  He fixed me with one of his looks but I still had enough of Tomoe’s fight left to meet it.

  ‘You’re right, Chōshi-san wasn’t what might be considered the suicide type. But she did take her life. She was about to be abducted. That would have led to the same outcome but with some unpleasantness in between. By choosing her own time and method she not only avoided this, she prevented her oppressors getting what they were after. And she used her death as a form of seppuku. She died with honour and used her passing as a rebuke to theirs.’

  Now his face softened.

  ‘Your Chōshi-san was as admirable in death as she was in life. You should take comfort from that.’

  ‘But why didn’t she contact me?’

  The thought hurt, whatever my newfound ‘comfort’.

  ‘She was already dead. She took her life shortly before you found out she was missing. They froze her body in case they had need for it – as they later found out they did.’

  I tried to process this. I was still struggling to come to terms with the fact she was no longer alive. This was a revelation too far.

  ‘Clarence-san, just because her life was taken at her own hand, it doesn’t mean she didn’t have killers and it doesn’t mean she wouldn’t want revenge. And if anyone is capable of exacting vengeance from beyond the grave, it’s Chōshi-san.’

  This cut through my shock.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’ve been of great service to the Takata-gumi for your ability in effecting events, but that wasn’t the sole reason I took you in. Chōshi-san cared for you and she admired you. I knew if there was anyone she would have entrusted to assist her, that person would have been you.’

  I thought for a moment. I couldn’t think of anything she’d entrusted to me. She’d seemed far keener to keep me from being involved.

  ‘But she didn’t. She didn’t tell me anything.’

  I racked my brains to make sure it was true, that there weren’t any clues or messages I might have missed. But there weren’t. I hadn’t had any idea what was happening then and I still wasn’t much wiser.

  ‘I don’t even know what’s going on now – how can I do anything? And how can Tomoe get revenge now that she’s dead?’

  ‘Death won’t be a barrier,’ he said, sounding entirely convinced. ‘As for you, perhaps she told you something you need a prompt to bring back. Or maybe she left you a message you’re yet to find. However it transpires, you’ll be the key to unlock this. As long as we keep you safe, you’ll be the one who allows Chōshi-san her revenge.’

  It was ridiculous.

  ‘What is “this”? Can you at least tell me what’s going on? My girlfriend’s dead, I’ve been beaten and nearly killed, and I’m being chased by gangsters and the police. I think I have a right to know.’

  He smiled and held up his palms.

  ‘You’re right. I’m sorry but I needed you to seek your own answers. It was essential your actions drew certain responses.’

  ‘You used me against Onishi,’ I said, cutting in. ‘You wanted to worry him at first, so he’d think there was someone who could pose a threat but someone you might be able to control. Then you wanted to panic him, to lure him out. You used me as bait.’

  Even Tomoe did, I thought.

  ‘I apologise for any distress the lack of information may have caused you,’ he continued, ignoring my interruption. ‘But I promise, I haven’t tried to kill you and I certainly don’t want you dead. The truth is I need exactly the opposite: it’s essential you stay alive.’

  The stay of execution brought a lot less relief than I might have expected. My brain was already overwhelmed, and the dangling of life and death before me had become too common to react to normally in any case.

  ‘But as you say, you have a right to know and there’s no benefit to you not knowing any more. It may even help.’

  He took a sip of his tea.

  ‘You’re already aware that something wasn’t right with the Kamigawa site. This wasn’t known from the very beginning but Ishikawa was a scientist who lived locally and for some reason he had his doubts. He did his own investigation and discovered the site ran directly over a previously undiscovered fault. But by that point, things had progressed too far. The report was buried along with its author, who died in an unfortunate accident soon after he handed it to KanEnCo.’

  ‘How was Tomoe’s father involved in any of this? He had nothing to do with the nuclear industry.’

  ‘He wasn’t anything to do with the industry, but he was from Shizuoka prefecture where the plant is. As is Onishi. In fact they were from the same town and they knew each other when they were young. When Onishi first started out, Chōshi helped him with campaigning and fundraising. Onishi was a nobody then and took whatever assistance he could get. But when he moved beyond local politics, he only brought the associates he considered beneficial. Chōshi wasn’t one of them.

  ‘Chōshi accepted his lot but he still hoped the connection could prove useful later on. He’d helped start Onishi’s career after all and he was sure that was worth a favour somewhere down the line. Many years later, when his businesses started to fail, he thought the time had come when he could call it in. Onishi now headed up the LDP’s wealthiest faction and had the power to make poor men rich and rich men poor. Chōshi didn’t even get a response.

  ‘As his businesses fell about him, he was forced into the arms of moneylenders. He grew bitter. Normally that kind of bitterness just rots at the insides of those it consumes. But Chōshi got what looked to be a break.

  ‘One evening, he was drinking with one of his cronies when a report on the Kamigawa Plant’s construction appeared on the bar’s TV. His friend was an estate agent and remarked on the swathes of land he’d bought for Onishi years before. He speculated on the mark-ups that must have been made when they were sold on to KanEnCo.

  ‘Chōshi may not have had an eye for business but he wasn’t dumb. He got copies of the original purchases and then checked the registry for the sales to KanEnCo. Onishi’s name wasn’t mentioned but all of the companies that sold the pieces of land could eventually be traced back to him.

  ‘Chōshi realised he might have found Onishi’s Achilles heel. But he knew in the grand scale of scandals it still wasn’t enough. So he sat on the information he had and quietly dug for more. He had an advantage over the protestors. Passing information to them was the same as taking sides and that could lead to a rapid decline in one’s health. The snippets he came across over drinks and dinners were the gossip of unaffiliated parties that could be safely passed on.

  ‘Eventually he got a name. But after Dr Ishikawa’s accident, his family developed reclusive traits. However, when Ishikawa’s wife passed away, nearly twenty years after her spouse, Chōshi went to pay his respects to the son. He convinced him that should he have the means, he would avenge Ishikawa’s accidental passing. He was told Ishikawa had indeed left a copy of his report. The son, now without fear of repercussions being borne on his mother, would be happy to give it to him if he promised
to bring down the men responsible for his father’s death.’

  ‘So Tomoe’s father had been working on this for years?’ I asked, impressed by his dedication.

  ‘Of course. You don’t tackle a man like Onishi like that,’ said Takata, clicking his fingers. ‘Chōshi’s pride ruined his life in almost every conceivable way. But as a vehicle for retribution it was a formidable trait.’

  ‘But if he had the information, why didn’t he hand it to the police or the papers?’

  ‘Who in the police? The ones who brought you to me? And which newspapers? The ones KanEnCo has its advertising accounts with? The ones that contain associates of mine? Or perhaps those that have one of Onishi’s many contacts at their helm?’

  He paused so I could consider the paucity of options available to Tomoe’s dad.

  ‘Chōshi understood this well enough but he also had other thoughts in his mind. At this point, he showed there may have been a part of him worthy of redemption. He decided to blackmail Onishi instead.’

  I was familiar enough with Takata not to be surprised by his admiration for the pragmatic approach. But I thought even he might struggle to define it as a balance to Mr Chōshi’s sins.

  ‘I don’t quite see how that makes him a more worthy character?’

  ‘Part of the deal would have involved buying out Chōshi-san’s contract.’

  The revelation caught me off-guard. I wasn’t sure how it made me feel. It did nothing to make up for his betrayal. It may even have been out of guilt – a selfish act to assuage his shame. It certainly didn’t make me feel any sadness for his death.

  But thoughts of him weren’t uppermost in my mind. What gripped me was the realisation that had things not gone so horribly wrong, Tomoe might still have been with me. Free from her binds rather than dead.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘He never had a chance,’ said Takata bluntly. ‘He was a nobody up against forces far too big. He acted as though it was about the money and the release of his daughter, and in some ways it was. But he’d been working on this for years and at its root was his need for revenge. At first that was for being forced into the hands of moneylenders and ruined. Then came the need to avenge his daughter and hit back at those who had made him hate what he saw in the mirror every day. We knew he’d betray any agreement once he had what he claimed to want.’