We worked side by side to get the temple floor clean and we worked well. I thought the Lump would wander off once Natsuko had gone but she didn’t. She helped me brush all the wooden shavings and the sawdust into one pile and then we scooped it up. Then we got some mops and buckets and mopped the entire floor, except for behind the altar, where we weren’t allowed to go. But the floor looked funny when we’d finished – it was a mixture of old and new planks. A dark-skinned labourer appeared with a big tin of varnish and a couple of brushes.
‘You want to do it?’ he asked.
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘Me as well!’ said the Lump.
‘Of course you as well!’ said the labourer. And he laughed as he walked away.
‘This is my job,’ I said to her. ‘You go and look for something to clean.’
‘No!’ said the Lump.
She grabbed a paintbrush and held it to her chest. I knew I wouldn’t get it back without a fight and so I gave in. ‘OK, but you’d better not make a mess!’
We knelt over a couple of new planks and started to paint. The varnish was the same brown colour as the old planks, and as soon as we put it on it blended in. I kept my eye on the Lump at first. I was sure she was going to drip varnish everywhere or end up working on the wrong planks, but she didn’t. She worked slowly and patiently, like an artist painting a picture. Except that artists don’t have their tongues out when they paint.
It took hours to do, but it was easy work, and when we were finished we were proud that we’d done a good job.
‘Let’s get started outside,’ I said.
The Lump bowed to the Buddha and ran to get the witches’ brooms. She handed one to me and we brushed up the leaves in the courtyard. It felt nice being in the sunshine after the gloom of the temple, and we had a great view. Fuji’s white peak was brilliant against the blue sky, while its base was green with beech trees. Red maples ran around the hills and cedars lined the field of wheat, which had turned golden with the mid-morning sun. The whole place made me feel kind of tranquil. But most Buddhist temples do that. It’s a Zen thing.
The Lump looked up at the sky. ‘Dolphin,’ she said.
Like an idiot I looked up as well. Then I gave her a look to let her know to stop bothering me.
‘Dolphin,’ said the Lump, and pointed.
I saw a fluffy cloud that was shaped like a dolphin. It even had a dolphin’s face and a dolphin’s smile. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it in the first place. But it was just like the Lump to see things that other people don’t. It’s like she’s living in a different world.
It took us the rest of the morning to get the courtyard clean. And then, taking the garbage bags, we followed the dirt path down to the incinerator. I took two of the larger bags and the Lump took a small one, but she looked like she was struggling with it.
‘You want me to take that?’
‘No,’ said the Lump, looking determined.
‘You’re very strong,’ I said.
‘Very strong,’ said the Lump.
She sort of made me smile then and I felt sorry for her. ‘So why do these kids pick on you?’
‘Mean,’ said the Lump.
‘Well, you should be mean to them.’
‘No,’ said the Lump. ‘Don’t wanna be mean.’
‘Well, they’ll just keep picking on you.’
The Lump pondered this all the way to the incinerator. Then she looked up at me. ‘Don’t wanna be mean,’ she said.
You could never reason with the Lump and so I never tried. One of the nuns came over a low hill. ‘Lunch is ready.’
‘Lunch!’ said the Lump, and dropping everything she ran back down the path.
I followed her, and rinsing my hands under a tap at the side of the temple, I headed down to the field of wheat. A table had been placed in front of it and there were a dozen people sitting down. They were the labourers and the nuns, and the monk who’d driven us there.
The Lump took a seat at the head of the table and sat there as happy as a princess. As soon as I sat down Natsuko said a short prayer, and when she’d finished the bowls and plates were passed. I took a bowl of ramen noodles in a miso broth. It contained a thick slice of pork, a whole egg and a square of seaweed. The Lump took a bowl of thick white udon noodles, which she drowned in soy sauce and slurped until they were gone. She drank the broth from the bowl before picking up her chopsticks and starting on her beef fried rice. The Lump was so happy eating she was dancing a little in her seat. She didn’t notice she was entertaining the dark-skinned labourers. They smiled at each other and then one of them passed her a plate of sushi, which she took with a small bow and devoured in a matter of minutes.
‘Good appetite,’ said the labourer.
We finished by drinking green tea in the heat with the warm wind blowing around us. And when the labourers were done they gave a dignified bow and went back to work. Natsuko and the nuns took the dishes away and the Lump helped them. Then Natsuko and the Lump came back carrying apple juice and the Lump took a seat and pushed a glass towards me.
‘What do you want me to do now?’ I asked.
‘The roofer needs a hand, if you’re not scared of heights,’ said Natsuko.
‘I’m not.’
‘You know, Mikazuki was just telling me how much she likes Tokyo.’
I couldn’t remember the nuns’ names and so I didn’t know who she was talking about.
‘Which one’s Mikazuki?’ I asked.
Natsuko gave me a disapproving look. I turned to see the Lump with her arms folded. She had a ‘you didn’t even know my name!’ look slapped all over her face. I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t that I didn’t know her name. It was just that the twins used to call her Mika. And I hadn’t remembered the name Mikazuki because it never suited her.
‘Don’t pay him any attention, Mikazuki, he’s just teasing,’ said Natsuko, and took the last of the dishes to the kitchen.
But the Lump wasn’t buying into it. She glared at me like I’d just insulted her ancestors. And so I looked at the temple to avoid her gaze. ‘We did a good job on that floor, didn’t we?’ I said, but she still wasn’t happy. I laughed again. ‘I was just joking! Of course I know your name.’ But the Lump knew I was lying. She climbed down from the table, while still giving me the dirty look, and mumbling she walked away. I laughed as I drank my juice, but then I felt a shinai tap my shoulder.
‘Fight,’ said the Lump, and put a shinai next to me.
‘No, it’s too hot.’
‘Fight,’ she said, and poked me in the ribs.
‘No!’
‘Coward!’
I jumped up and grabbed the shinai. The Lump screamed and laughed and fled to the field and so I chased her through the wheat, which cracked and snapped around us. The Lump couldn’t run as fast as I could, but she ran faster in circles than anyone I’d ever seen. And she had the advantage because the wheat was as tall as she was. But I soon gained on her, and raising the shinai I got ready to strike. But all of a sudden I tripped and fell. The sneaky Lump doubled back and started whacking me. I blocked her blows with my arm, but she was so aggressive she made me laugh. ‘Pack it in!’ I said. But she wouldn’t and so I got up and chased her again. Suddenly the Lump turned and going down on one knee she whacked my leg. I tripped and fell, but I was ready for the counter. But she didn’t attack. I stood up, but I couldn’t see her. I couldn’t even see her trail in the wheat. ‘Who’s the coward now?’ I shouted. But she was hiding and she wouldn’t come out. I stood still for a minute, hoping she’d give herself away, but all I could hear was the wind hissing in the wheat. ‘You want some cake?’ I shouted, but she still wouldn’t show herself and so I left. But I had to admire those tactics. Making me chase her into the wheat where she had the advantage. Then fighting when she wanted to and retreating when she didn’t. For a kid who was supposed to be slow, the Lump was turning out to be as sneaky as a ninja.
I walked around the side of the temple
and climbing a ladder I helped the old roofer. Which meant I passed him a tile whenever he needed one. It was really hot on the roof, and so I did like he did and put a scarf around my head. But I liked being up high. I’ve always liked heights and it had a great view of Fuji. And I could see all the surrounding land, and down into the valley where the town was. There was a huge blue lake, way in the distance, and beyond that I could see the bullet train blasting through the countryside. I looked at the field every now and then, to see if I could see the Lump, but I couldn’t. She was either staying hidden or she’d fallen asleep.
It was hours before she surfaced, or rather her palm tree did. It looked like a little black bird floating above the wheat. Then she raised her shinai and it moved through the field like a periscope at sea. The Lump gave out a war cry and her shinai crashed into the wheat and disappeared. And that’s the way she spent the rest of the afternoon: battling imaginary armies who she’d beat to death by whacking the wheat. And every time she cried out the old roofer chuckled to himself. ‘Sister?’
‘Cousin,’ I said.
‘Nice kid.’
The Lump was all right in small doses, I suppose. And the day had been better for her being there. So much so that I hadn’t thought about Riko or the rest of the yakuza gangsters that I was at war with. But listening to the Lump’s war cries brought it back. And when it came it hit me hard because my guard was down. But battle had to be done. The twins had to be avenged, and the yakuza had to know that there were people who’d stand up to them.
‘Done,’ said the old roofer with a satisfied smile, and we both climbed down.
And then, as if a bell had sounded, everyone began to pack up. Tools were put in the van and the sweating labourers washed under the tap. Natsuko changed back into her usual robes and then she came towards me dressed in white. ‘Where’s the little one?’
Just then we heard a war cry and the Lump burst through the wheat with her shinai raised.
She looked around as though surprised to be out in the open. The labourers laughed and the nuns laughed too. The Lump’s face was flushed and her hair was covered in wheat seeds.
‘Come on, little one,’ said Natsuko. ‘Time to go home.’
We all got in the van and headed back to Tokyo. It was full then and so I sat in the back with the Lump. She put her head against my shoulder and returned to reading her manga. But I knew that before long she’d be asleep. I rolled down the window and took one last look at Fuji, whose peak was tinted red by the dying sun. I felt a pang of fear and a touch of sadness then. Because I knew I was returning to the battlefield. And part of me really didn’t want to. But there was another part that couldn’t wait to be back. And by the time the sun had set that would be the only part that mattered.
It was a hot night and there was a lot of traffic on the road. I’d ridden my bike all over Tokyo but I hadn’t seen a single yakuza. And I really wanted to find one. I’d already been to the Kabukicho, but that Korean creep wasn’t there. And I’d spent an hour staking out the clubs in Shibuya, but again I couldn’t find anyone. And what made it worse was that Tokyo wasn’t a city with an uptown and downtown. It was like five cities rolled into one. Shinjuku, Shibuya and Ikebukuro were like cities. And Ginza and Ueno were cities as well. And so finding someone was damn near impossible. Especially when you didn’t know where they hung out.
But as I rode I thought about fate. Both my father and my grandmother had taught me the importance of duty and self-sacrifice. I was practically brought up on the seven virtues of the bushido code, and I’ve being doing kendo since I was four. And now I was living by the code and using my skills to fight the yakuza. I was actually starting to think that all of this was meant to happen. I mean, I’d gone into the Tanakas’ apartment and left them for dead. And I’d got out of there even though the place was surrounded. And a feeling came over me when I thought about it. I felt powerful. It’s as though there really was an energy force flowing through me.
But the Lump messed things up. When I was with her I never felt like war. I don’t know why, because she irritated me most of the time. You’d think she’d have the opposite effect, but she didn’t. She had this horrible habit of dragging me into her own little world where there were dolphins and ants and things. And I didn’t want to be there. Maybe I should stay away from her.
I slowed by Akasaka Palace, and turning away from the stone wall I headed down the narrow road that went by the Tanakas’ apartment block. They say a criminal always returns to the scene of the crime, but in my mind I wasn’t a criminal. And I wasn’t returning; I was just passing by. I expected to see cops or yakuza gangsters watching from the rooftop, but the street was surprisingly empty. I knew then that Riko wasn’t there. Because if she had been, her bodyguards would have been outside.
I passed the Imperial Palace, and heading into the heart of Ginza I saw that the pavements were swarming with late-night shoppers. I never realized that Ginza was such a night city, and a city of lights at that. Bright lights and billboards were blazing everywhere and spotlit posters were advertising the latest clothes. There were more lights when I turned a corner, but they belonged to the cops.
I pulled up to see a woman crying next to her totalled Toyota and a guy in a Nissan sitting behind a smashed screen. Lights flashed from digital cameras and cellphones as the crowd captured the image. I heard a droning sound and a helicopter hovered above us, no doubt taking its own pictures. Then sirens sounded and an ambulance came to the scene. I was just about to move off when someone tapped my helmet. I turned to see one of the girls from school. She smiled and gave me a quick wave, and then she ran to a group of girls who waved as well. I was debating on finding a place to park but a whistle blew. ‘Don’t stop there,’ shouted a cop, and he waved me on.
I cut through the Ginza Crossing, and turning down one of its fancy backstreets I started a grid search. There were lots of sushi bars and restaurants, and a sax blasting from a phoney jazz bar. And there were lots of fancy stores where women in designer clothes were waiting for someone to come in. Not exactly a yakuza hangout, but you never know.
I passed the packed Apple Store and turned off at the gold-coloured Cartier building to continue my search. I took a turn around the Conrad and Peninsular hotels but all I saw was well-dressed rich people. I’d heard that Riko hung out in Ginza sometimes, but I couldn’t imagine her in those places; she had no class.
When I got hungry I cruised across the Sumida River and pulling up outside a FamilyMart I bought a couple of pieces of fried chicken. I ate them while walking back towards Ginza and the river. There were brightly lit barges on the water and tourist boats going by. I could hear a tour guide’s smooth voice and see the flashes from the cameras reflected in the water. Downriver was the bustling fish market where I used to go with my father as a boy, and beyond that were Ginza’s huge hotels. It was a nice night and there was a cool breeze by the river.
My mind kind of mellowed then, and I tried to think of the name of the girl who’d tapped my helmet. She had a really nice face and good teeth. I like girls with good teeth. I remember seeing her talking to Miko one time. I even think she was at the funeral. Maybe she was interested in me. It would be nice if she was. But then I felt so guilty I sank. Miko’s ashes were still warm and I was thinking of someone else. And what sort of girl was she anyway? Tapping on my helmet when she knew what Miko had meant to me! I felt so angry when I thought about it. And where the hell are these yakuza cowards who were responsible for her death? I swear I wanted to find one so badly … Then a thought came to me. The only place I hadn’t been to was the florist where Hiroshi threw the brick.
I went back to the bike, and kick-starting the engine I rode back across the bridge. All the way to the florist’s I kept telling myself that no one would be there. But I kept the bike at full throttle all the same, and I was soon passing through Roppongi. I stayed on the outskirts of Shibuya to avoid the heavy traffic. Then crossing the tracks at Uehara station I headed down the
long, narrow road that led to the shop. As I neared it I saw there was a light on and so I pulled up behind a parked car.
The street was badly lit and walled in with apartment blocks. There were shops on the ground floor, but they were all shut and the street itself was almost deserted. I took the nylon bag from under the seat and made my way down to the florist’s. I held the sword close to my side, in case anyone came, and I kept my helmet on because I’d left my hat at home.
I stopped on the opposite side of the road and peered into the store. All the flowers had gone, but there were two men sitting inside. They were eating a takeaway. One of them was dressed in a suit and tie, and he must have been about sixty. The other was in his twenties and he was wearing a T-shirt that showed off his muscles. I could see them talking, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.
There was a blind alley next to the florist’s and the back door was open. If I could hear what they were saying I’d know if they were yakuza or not. I crept down the alley, but just as I neared the door I heard them coming out. I jumped into a doorway and hid in the shadows.
‘How long do you think it will take me to become a soldier?’
‘You’ve only been a trainee for a year.’
I was sure they were yakuza. I peered around the corner. Light from the doorway was shining on the two men, who were lighting up cigarettes.
The younger guy leaned on a parked car and took a long drag. ‘But with your guidance, Basho, I’ll get there. I want to be a soldier by the time I’m twenty-five. You know Suzuki made lieutenant by then.’
‘Yes, but he was Yoshio Kodama’s grandson,’ said the older man.
‘And even that didn’t stop him from being killed.’
The old man looked away. ‘Suzuki wasn’t killed.’
‘No. How did he die? Can you tell me?’
‘Sure. It’s no secret,’ said the old man. ‘He started dating Takahashi’s daughter. It’s always a mistake to date a boss’s daughter. Then he made an even bigger mistake: he dumped her. Takahashi, taking it as a slight upon himself, had him kicked out. And Suzuki, with nowhere else to go, fell on his sword.’
Summertime of the Dead Page 11