I changed into my body armour as quick as I could, and then trotted downstairs to the dojo. It mightn’t have been the largest dojo in Japan, but it was one of the oldest, and there are some great swordsmen here. And everybody tries to help everyone else. I swear, we’re like a family, and as soon as I was in there I started to feel better.
I was just in time to bow to the Japanese flag with the others. Then we warmed up by doing katas, which is going through the motions of striking an opponent with a shinai. But let me explain something about the shinai. Kendo came about because the heavy wooden swords used by the samurai in training could cause severe injury. And no shogun wanted his soldiers injured. And so the shinai was developed. It’s just four bamboo sticks joined together with a rubber tip and a handle. But with it the swordsman could train without fear of being injured and so he could concentrate on his skill.
I moved across the wooden floor in my bare feet, taking firm strides and striking with the shinai like I was striking an opponent’s head. I scream as I strike because it releases energy, what the Chinese call chi. Chi comes from the cosmos and flows through your body. The kendo scream is supposed to be this chi energy being expelled. I know it sounds silly, and I’m not saying I believe it myself, but sometimes I think I can feel it.
‘Make ready,’ said Sensei Kubo.
Sensei Kubo was in his fifties, but he was as fit as a man half his age. His black hair had no grey and his face was as smooth as stone. They say that kendo practitioners live a long time, and seeing him I could believe it. And he had such a great knowledge of kendo. When he talked about it he was calm and wise and his words carried weight.
We knelt on the floor and put on our head towels, which keep the headsets secure. Then we put on our headsets, which we call men, and tied them tight. But when I picked up the kote my heart sank. They were the gloves the twins had bought me for a birthday present. And once again I heard Hiroshi’s words: ‘We didn’t want your hands to get hurt.’ I could feel tears coming into my eyes.
‘You OK, Yukio?’
I looked up to see G.I. Joe.
‘Sure,’ I said. When he wandered away I tried to straighten up. If I was going to avenge the twins I’d have to put them out of my mind, at least for now, and so that’s what I did. I pulled on the kote and picked up my shinai, which is just under four foot long. Then I faced my opponent, Alex the Austrian. He was ten years older than me and twice as broad and so I forced myself to focus. But then a train went past the dojo and hearing it I saw Hiroshi. This seething hatred flowed through me and my mind set like metal.
We lined up in two rows, facing our opponents, and we bowed to each other to show respect. It’s important to show respect to your opponent, because it’s through them that you will become a better swordsman. But the true purpose of kendo is to become a better person. You see, kendo is based on the bushido code because that’s what the samurai lived by. They never used their skill as swordsmen for personal gain. It was used unselfishly to defend the community and protect the weak. And following this code, which revolves around the seven virtues, gives your life guidance. It helps you become a stronger person, and in some cases a warrior.
‘Begin.’
The dojo became noisy with screams and shouts and the crack of the shinai as it struck armour. Alex never made any unnecessary moves. But when he did move he was fast and accurate.
What was worse was that it was never a single strike. It was always a strike to the do, the piece of body armour that protects the torso, followed by a strike to the men, or head. And the speed of these double strikes showed how skilled he’d become. But he had two weaknesses. One was that he was slow on his feet, and the other was that he’d always look at the first place he was going to strike. And if I saw him doing it, which I often did, I’d block the blow and counter. I was having a lot of success hitting his right kote, which mightn’t seem like much. But it scores points in competitions because a swordsman without a hand is done for.
I stepped up a gear. I snapped the shinai to his men in quick flicking movements. You see, it’s better to flick the shinai than to strike with a heavy blow. A heavy blow allows you only one strike and it leaves you open to attack. It’s always better to use less force and flick the shinai with a snap of the wrists. And with this strategy I struck Alex three times on the men. He was beaten and I bowed to him before switching opponents.
Then I got the muscle-bound Miyamoto, who we call the mammoth. He was a big guy, but kendo requires thought rather than physical strength and so his size was no advantage. Besides, he was slow and I was the more experienced. Through the bars of my men I could see him readying himself like a rhino. Then raising his shinai he charged. I blocked his blow with ease and moved to a defensive stance.
There are three basic stances in kendo: jodan, an attacking stance where the shinai is held above the head; chudan, a middle stance where the shinai is held level, ready to attack or defend; and gedan, a defensive stance where the shinai is held down, making it difficult for the opponent to leap forward. But this meant nothing to the mammoth who kept wielding his shinai like a barbarian with a baseball bat. A dozen times I sidestepped him and struck him in the throat. I kept doing it over and over in the hope that he would do something different, but he didn’t. The best he’d do was dodge my shinai, which would then strike his shoulder. And he seemed happy with this. But kendo is based on sword fighting! If you get hit on the shoulder with a samurai sword you’re as good as dead. I was training for battle and they gave me this buffoon. I heard another train pass and I saw Hiroshi in my mind. Suddenly I sidestepped Miyamoto and struck him on the back of the men. He fell to his knees and I raised the shinai … !
‘Yukio!’ Sensei Kubo came towards us. ‘Miyamoto, Anna is looking for an opponent.’ Miyamoto bowed and walked away and the sensei turned to me. ‘A clear mind can topple even the strongest will. How many times have you heard me say this?’
‘Many,’ I said.
‘But your mind is not clear, Yukio. Why don’t you sit to one side and watch. You can learn much by observation.’
I sat on a bench and took off my men and head towel. The sensei was right. I’d need a clear mind for tonight. Otherwise I was done for.
It was dark when I got up. I hadn’t slept, but I’d had a rest and it’s important to rest before battle. I switched on the lamp and took the long sword from its mounting. I was amazed at how new it looked, and when I felt the blade it was so sharp it cut my finger. Mr Sato had stripped both swords of their handles and cord wraps and left them to soak in a cleansing solution. He’d fitted new handles and wrapped new cord around them. He’d even replaced the mounting for the long sword with one that fitted. He’d expected little thanks for his hard work and so I told him that, upon Grandmother’s death, the swords would go to the museum. And he seemed happy with this.
I went to the bathroom to rinse my finger and then I did some katas. My room’s quite large and so there’s plenty of space to thrust and slash from the gedan and chudan stances. But the ceiling’s too low to raise the sword in the jodan. But it made no difference. I was just getting used to the feel of the sword. And there wasn’t much difference between the sword and the shinai.
I put the sword in the black nylon bag and fixed it so it was resting on my back. Then I turned to the photograph of the twins, and kissing my fingertips I put it on their smiling faces. I bowed to both them and the statue of the Buddha before going out on to the balcony. I slid down the drainpipe and put the sword under the seat of the bike. I put on my helmet and pushed the bike out into the street. Then kick-starting the engine I rode down to Paradise to kill Kako.
There wasn’t much of a plan. I’d put on my hooded top so most of my face would be covered. That way I couldn’t be identified by witnesses or CCTV. I’d park the bike where I could run to it but not too close. Then I’d head up the backstreet and wait outside the club. My biggest problem would be if the Tanaka girls were there with their bodyguards, because I woul
dn’t like to take on too many at once. But if they were, so be it.
It was around midnight as I rode through the Shibuya Crossing. It was a Saturday night and as hot as hell and the crossing was really busy. I turned away from the bright lights and took a quick tour of the backstreets. Then I parked the bike in a side road just behind the Tokyu Department Store. It would only be a short run from the club, and the road was fairly dark. But as I locked my helmet to the bike the butterflies came. I couldn’t help but worry about being caught, or killed, and the thought of prison was never far off. But quite often a samurai had to choose between breaking the law and the bushido code. I knew that what I was about to do was criminal, but it was also justice.
I held the bag with the sword to my side, and pushing the handle up into my armpit I headed up to the main road. I pulled my hood up when I saw two security guards at the back entrance of the Tokyu building, but they were only concerned with their conversation. But when I got to the corner there were punk rockers hanging around outside the FamilyMart. I even noticed a leather-clad girl glaring at me, as though wondering what I was concealing. Or maybe she was wondering why I had my hood up in the heat. I must have looked so shady. I kept the sword close to my side and crossing the road I headed up to Paradise. The backstreet was more brightly lit than I remembered and it was just as busy as the main road. The music was blasting from the clubs and the reggae bars and there were partygoers parading up and down. I passed the couples waiting to enter Club Asia and the younger crowd outside Club Atom. And as I passed them I could feel them watching me. It was as if everyone knew what I was about to do. The butterflies turned septic in my stomach then, and the street, which stank of pizza and perfume, made me feel sick.
But then, as I neared Paradise I saw a man outside. He had his back to me but it looked like Kako! My legs began to quiver and my hands shook as the adrenalin pumped through my body. I looked back down the street to see how far I’d have to run. It wasn’t too far but it was packed with people. I was dying to kill him, but I was just as desperate to get away. Then, in my mind, I saw Miko smiling up at me. I saw Kako ogling her. Then I saw her hanging by her neck. ‘Do it, Yukio!’ I took the sword by the handle and headed towards him. I was so close I could hear him speaking on his cell. I got ready to draw the sword, but suddenly he turned and came towards me. It wasn’t Kako. It didn’t even look like him!
I waited for the guy to pass and then I moved towards the entrance of the club. If Kako’s in the doorway, I’ll kill him where he stands! But the door was closed and there was a padlock on it. I couldn’t understand it. It was Saturday night. A girl in long boots came by.
‘What happened to the club?’ I asked.
‘I think the cops closed it,’ she said without stopping.
I pulled the hood from my head. He wasn’t here and he wasn’t going to be here. And I didn’t know where to find him. I felt so drained when I thought about it. But for now there was nothing I could do. And so putting the sword under my arm I headed back down the street.
6
I ran on the road that went around the inside of Yoyogi Park. It was a nice morning with a fresh breeze and the sun was flickering through the trees. But inside my head there was rage and pain. I kept seeing Kako with Miko, and Louise laughing, and Riko dancing like a demon. And then I started to run faster, and as I ran I killed them in my mind. I kept going until my lungs were screaming, and they were dead, and sweat was pouring from my head. I put my hands on my hips and sucked up deep breaths. I couldn’t think where Kako could be! The club was the only place I ever saw him outside school. And I don’t think anyone there knew him besides Kane. But I couldn’t ask Kane, because if Kako turned up dead …
I stretched for a bit and then I jogged back to the house. I’d left the sword on the bike the night before, and I wanted to put it in my room. It made no difference – the bike was in the garden and the sword was in the nylon fishing bag. No one could see it, but it was best to keep it out of the way. Then it came to me – fishing! I’d seen Kako fishing! My mind started racing before I’d put all the pieces together, and as it raced I ran. I got the bike from the garden, and kick-starting the engine I rode away.
There was this kid at school not so long back who couldn’t make his baseball game. And so he’d asked me to go in his place. I couldn’t say no because he helped me with my geometry. But I didn’t want to turn up and bat for a team I didn’t know, not by myself, and so I asked Hiroshi to come with me. The game was being played down by Tokyo Bay, just below the Rainbow Bridge. But when we got there we found out it had been cancelled. We’d gone all that way for nothing. But as it was still early, and as we had nothing better to do, we decided to explore the docks. There were lots of quays with boats and tugs with tyres attached to them. We even climbed on a few because we wanted to see how far we could go without having to walk on the road. We managed to make it for a mile or so, but we were stopped in our tracks when we came to a container base. It was surrounded by a mesh fence and there was barbed wire on top. If we wanted to keep going we’d have to edge our way around the dock wall. But if we fell, we’d fall into the water. I would have done it but Hiroshi hesitated, and then some guy in a crane told us to get lost. And when he did I saw this kid sit up in a fold-up chair. He had a long fishing rod in front of him and he looked half asleep. And that kid was Kako. I couldn’t understand why the guy hadn’t told him to get lost. I figured it must have been an uncle, or a friend, or some fool who was frightened of him. But it brought back something I’d heard about Kako. Every Sunday night, without fail, he went fishing. And if that was the case, then he’d be there tonight.
I followed the signs for the port and then for the Rainbow Bridge. And then I saw the sea and the row of red cranes that ran along the waterfront. I knew that the container base was below the cranes and so I cut off before I came to the bridge. Then I spiralled down a concrete causeway and rode on to the dock road. I passed the seagulls and the ships, and the machinery waiting to be loaded on to them. Then I came to the container base, where the different coloured containers were piled high.
As I slowed I saw two guards at the gate and so I rode around to see if there was another entrance, but there wasn’t. And so I stopped to survey the fence. It was ten-foot high and there was plenty of barbed wire running along the top. It would be difficult to climb over with the sword, and it’d be a real hazard to a quick getaway. But that was where he’d be and so that was where I’d have to go.
I took a quick tour of the backstreets opposite the base, to see where I’d stash the bike. And then I rode home. And as I did I thought about the fence. It wasn’t just a question of getting over it; it was getting away when the time came. I could throw a blanket over the barbed wire and climb over, but somebody might see me, a passing car maybe. And if someone saw me kill Kako and gave chase … I imagined them grabbing my legs as I tried to climb over. And I imagined me kicking at them, desperate to escape.
Then it came to me. I’d cut a hole in it with the wire cutters in my father’s old toolbox. And the container base wasn’t that large. It shouldn’t be a problem finding him once I was inside. And when I thought about it, it was easier than killing him in Shibuya. A lot easier.
By the time I got back to the house I thought I had everything covered. I put the bike in the garden and walked around to the front feeling fairly satisfied. All I needed was for him to be there tonight and then I’d kill him. And nothing would stop me! But then I opened the door and saw the Lump, and somehow I knew she’d cause trouble.
The Lump was a sort of cousin and she looks like a lump as well. She’s not that fat, but she has a chubby face and she’s short and as round as a beach ball. So there’s definitely something of the sumo about her. And she always has her hair tied up in a palm tree because she’s too lazy to do anything else with it. And she dresses bad. And if that isn’t enough, she gets on my nerves!
She bowed to me as I took off my shoes, but I ignored her. It didn’t mat
ter because you can’t hurt her feelings; she’s kind of backward. She’s not mental or anything, so there’s no need to feel sorry for her. She’s just hard of thinking.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
She didn’t say anything, but her mouth curved into an unhappy face and she looked at the floor. She rarely speaks anyway, and when she does it’s only one or two words. And she always looks a little glum. It’s like she’s expecting something bad to happen to her at any moment. And who knows, with a face like that it probably will. The only thing she does with any real relish is eat. You could put nuts and bolts in front of that kid and she’d eat them. She ate more than any nine-year-old alive.
‘Yukio, can you come in here for a moment?’
I went into Grandmother’s room, where she sat smoking with a cat in her lap. ‘As you can see, your cousin is here on a visit.’
I love the way Grandmother puts things. ‘On a visit.’ What that meant was that the Lump had been dumped on us and we had to put up with her. You see, Grandmother used to have a sister called Mai. And she had a daughter named Sashi who lives in Sapporo, which is where the Lump is from. Sashi was married to some failed opera singer and the Lump was their daughter. But they never had much time for her because she’s a little slow, like I say. But they had an older daughter, Hatsu, who was a gifted pianist. They treated her like a princess and she acted like one too. And every time they took her on tour we got the Lump.
‘So we’ll have the pleasure of her company for a while,’ said Grandmother.
That’s rich, coming from her. She’s never spent ten seconds with the kid.
‘And while she’s here I’ll expect you to look after her.’
‘Can’t Yoshe take care of her?’
‘She could, but I’d like you to do it. She’ll be company for you now that your friends are gone.’
I swear, right there and then I could have put Grandmother on my to-kill list! ‘But she’s only nine. She doesn’t even speak.’
Summertime of the Dead Page 6