One Man's Justice

by Akira Yoshimura

  He often woke up in the middle of the night and found it hard to get back to sleep, worrying about how someone he had passed in the street had looked at him, or how a man standing on the street corner had seemed to be peering curiously into the factory area. Since taking on his office duties, he had to make regular trips to the bank and to clients in order to receive payments for boxes. Occasionally, he had gone as far as the railway station to arrange for the shipment of an order of matchboxes by freight train. Every time he left the confines of the company premises, the thought that he was stepping into public view unnerved him. At times he thought that for his peace of mind he should take his pistol with him, but he knew that the nerve he would need actually to use it had long since vanished, so it stayed in his rucksack.

  Takuya started to think that being attached to Western Regional Command Headquarters had been a stroke of very bad luck. The other graduating cadets had been scattered to postings throughout Japan and overseas. Within the anti-aircraft defence corps, some had taken up positions with ack-ack units and others had gone to command electronic aircraft detection groups. If only he hadn’t been assigned to headquarters, he thought, he wouldn’t be on the run, but would probably be sitting in an office somewhere, content with his lot.

  He thought back to the time when the lieutenant from the legal affairs section had told him to pick out two sergeant-majors to take part in the executions, and regretted having offered to do his part, too. He had volunteered from a feeling of outrage toward those who had carried out countless incendiary raids, as well as not one but two atomic bombings on Japanese cities, seeing the execution of the B-29 crewmen as a natural and indisputable response to such acts of barbarism. But after the war there had been no adverse media comment about the bombings, the primary objective of which had been to slaughter defenceless civilians. SCAP censorship had probably played a part in this but, even so, the average person in the street was just as reluctant to say anything. Women offered their bodies to American soldiers for money, children grovelled in the streets for sweets, and men bought what the Americans didn’t need to sell for their own profit. They must have erased from their minds all memory of the houses being burnt to cinders and the lives lost in the firestorms. Not an iota of hatred about what had happened seemed to remain among the populace.

  Takuya, too, came to the realisation that his anger with the American military had all but evaporated. Did the time after a war act as some sort of filtration process, whereby all memories and experiences were expunged from the present and relegated to the past? All that remained in Takuya’s mind was the undeniable fact that he had beheaded a POW and the relentless anxiety of being on the run.

  He started to rethink the meaning of the badges he had worn as an officer in the army. Wearing an officer’s badge was an article of faith, a sign that one was not afraid of dying, and Takuya had held true to it during his days in uniform. However, since leaving the army, the fear of death dominated his every moment, and the fact that such a change should occur in the two short years since he left his parents’ house seemed incredible. Whenever he went out on business he took the less-used roads and walked with his eyes cast slightly downward. If he had to go to the Sanyo line freight station, he furtively slipped the duty station worker a box of matches from Terasawa, smiling obsequiously and acting as ingratiatingly as he could in order to avoid giving the impression that he’d been an officer in the army.

  Down on the embankment the cherry trees were blossoming, and crowds of people were said to be flocking in for a festival which was being held at the Ryuumon temple near the sea. Slowly society seemed to be moving back towards normality.

  On a day when they knew that the power was to be off, Takuya went with Terasawa and the others to the beach to collect shellfish. The women got up early and cooked some rice with soybeans to use for making rice balls. One of the day workers and his family joined them, and Kameya drove them all to the sea in the lorry.

  They crossed the bridge over the Ishikawa river and drove through the residential area of Shirahama, where many of the match factories were located. The beach was on the edge of town, not far from the little fishing-port of Mega, so they could see fishing-boats heading back in after a day out at sea. Men and women in sedge hats were working in the belt of salt fields stretching out on one side.

  At this first view of the sea in two years Takuya relaxed immediately. It was a beautiful calm day, and in the distance he could see several small islands, each covered in a lush blanket of green. A shoal of fish must be just off to the west, as the water was agitated by fish breaking the surface. Seabirds took turns plunging out of the sky into the mass of fish, or sat bobbing up and down on the water’s surface.

  There were crowds of people there that day, all bent over scraping away at the sand. Here and there, the sun’s rays reflected brightly off puddles of sparkling clear water.

  Takuya and the others dug away at the sand with metal clamps they had brought from the workshop. They found small clams everywhere, but occasionally, to everyone’s delight, they uncovered a really big one. Every so often, Takuya straightened up and stretched his back, surveying the area around them. At the water’s edge, he could see little waves curling white at the top before dropping on to the shore. The sea was slightly greener than how he remembered it near his home. Off in the distance a black freighter slowly threaded her way between the islands.

  Terasawa sauntered over to him, metal clamp in hand and an old straw hat on his head.

  ‘Higa,’ he said, as he bent over to scrape at the sand. Takuya turned to face him.

  ‘My wife asked me to speak to you about this. Um … What do you think of her niece, Teruko? To marry, I mean? You know what our situation is. Losing our son in the war means that we have no one to take over the business after us. My wife likes you, you know,’ said Terasawa, as he dug some little clams up and placed them neatly on the sand.

  ‘Teruko seems to have a soft spot for you too, so why don’t you think about it?’ said Terasawa. Then he stood up straight, picked up the clams and walked off toward the bucket.

  Takuya wasn’t surprised. In fact, he had almost expected such an approach. On more than one occasion Teruko had flashed her platinum-capped teeth at him in a way that betrayed the feelings Terasawa had alluded to, and the gleam in her eye when she looked Takuya’s way had not escaped him, either.

  Teruko was a straightforward, pleasant young woman. Her sturdy, buxom presence had certainly served to remind Takuya of the opposite sex. No doubt she would make an admirable wife. Terasawa had implied that they wanted Takuya to consider taking over the company, and he did not doubt that the Terasawas would make ideal in-laws. Maybe marrying their niece, having a family and living out the rest of his days in Himeji wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

  But after a few moments he shook his head. If he were to marry Teruko and become Terasawa’s adopted son, he could not keep his past a secret. A commitment to marry the niece would have to be predicated on his telling them the truth about himself. Getting them to understand his situation must come first, he thought. But Takuya knew that he couldn’t bring himself to make such a confession, and that therefore his only choice was to turn down Terasawa’s offer.

  At lunchtime, they all retired up onto the grassy dune beyond the beach to sit on straw mats and unwrap rice balls. Teruko sat on the edge of the bank and placed a hand towel neatly on her lap before starting to eat her own lunch with chopsticks. Terasawa kept them entertained with funny stories and Teruko covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed happily at his jokes.

  In the afternoon, the line of waves breaking on the beach crept closer as the tide started to come in, shepherding the people with their buckets full of clams back towards the grassy dunes. When the sea had reclaimed all but the last few yards of sand, Takuya and the others retreated up the slope and loaded the day’s haul of shellfish into the lorry.

  Off they went. Teruko sat holding on to the side of the lorry with one hand a
s she pushed the hair off her face with the other.

  That night, after he had crawled into his futon, Takuya told himself that the time had come for him to leave the Terasawas. He’d been with them for two years now. Staying in one place was never wise for someone on the run, and the fact that he had been with the Terasawas for this long was obviously the main reason behind the suggestion that he marry their niece. If Takuya were arrested now, the authorities would suspect that Terasawa had given him shelter despite knowing what he had done. He decided to leave Himeji before he burdened Terasawa with repercussions from his past.

  The next day, on his way back from a visit to the bank to deposit the week’s receipts, he dropped in at the local employment agency. If he were to look for a different job, it would be best to avoid the cities and instead hide somewhere like a coal mine up in the mountains. Spending time in the bowels of a mine, away from prying eyes, would surely bring him peace of mind, he thought. Men and women were going in and out of the agency, and inside a throng of people lined up in front of the workers standing behind a counter on the other side of the room. Waiting his turn would require more time than Takuya had that day, so he decided to come again the next morning.

  As he turned to leave, he saw a poster beside the door advertising for labourers in the Ikuno mine. Almost certainly they needed to advertise like this because many people were unwilling to work there.

  That night he casually asked Kameya about the location of the Ikuno mine and learnt that it was a silver mine, further inland, to the north of Himeji.

  Looking at the map on the wall above his desk, Takuya thought it seemed an ideal place to hide. It was right in the middle of Hyogo prefecture, about halfway between the Harima Sea and the Sea of Japan. The symbol on the map indicating the exact location of the mine showed that it was in a gorge between two lines of mountains. A quick look at the railway timetable told him it was just under an hour and a half from Himeji on the Bantan line. Being up in a heavily wooded area meant that, if the police did come to arrest him, it would not be too difficult to evade them by slipping away into the forest. Working underground, he would never need to be seen by anyone apart from his co-workers.

  Suddenly Takuya felt extremely uneasy about being in Himeji. If he continued to parade around town in broad daylight, before long the police would recognise him. Also, with the bombed-out areas gradually filling up with new houses, more people who knew him might move back into the city, which obviously increased the likelihood of his being identified by the authorities. At the same time, he couldn’t help but be worried about Fujisaki’s family. They knew that he was working at Terasawa’s workshop, and if the police tracked him as far as the Fujisakis they might well crack under interrogation and divulge his whereabouts. That the Fujisakis knew his whereabouts was a danger he was only now beginning to appreciate fully. The only way to circumvent this potentially disastrous situation was to distance himself from the Terasawas and to keep his move to the Ikuno mine a secret.

  Takuya felt himself losing his composure. At times he was completely immobilised by the premonition that the police were about to appear and arrest him.

  Three days later, when the power supply was off, Takuya went to the employment agency to get the forms to apply for work in the Ikuno silver mine. When he returned to Terasawa’s house, he slipped the forms between the pages of his accounts book and, checking that no one was likely to disturb him, furtively started filling them in. The figure for mine workers’ wages on the forms was several times higher than the average wage in Himeji.

  When Takuya went into the living-room that evening, the sound of running water told him that Terasawa’s wife and their niece, Teruko, were in the kitchen doing some washing. Terasawa was smoking a cigarette as he read the newspaper spread out on the low table in the middle of the room. Takuya sat down on the other side of the table, his legs folded under him in formal style, and without beating about the bush said that he wanted to quit his job. Terasawa lifted his eyes from the newspaper and stared in bewilderment at him.

  Takuya saw straight away that Terasawa was hurt. Two years had passed since the Terasawas had taken him on. Their warm support was the only thing that had saved him from starvation.

  ‘Is this because I asked you about Teruko? If that’s the case, don’t worry about it. Forget I ever mentioned it,’ said Terasawa remorsefully.

  ‘That isn’t the reason,’ Takuya replied instinctively.

  ‘Well, what is it then?’ said Terasawa, looking him squarely in the face.

  Takuya was at a loss for words. He regretted that he hadn’t at least concocted an appropriate excuse for quitting his job. If he allowed Terasawa to think that the talk of marriage was the reason, Teruko would be needlessly offended. Of course he bore no ill will toward the Terasawas, and he did not want to see them hurt.

  ‘You know I don’t have anyone to take over from me, so I just thought that it might be good if you and Teruko got together. But if you’re not keen on the idea it doesn’t matter. Are you worried about your parents? If so, why don’t you get them to come to Himeji? I know it may not be so easy to leave Okinawa these days, but …’ Terasawa pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, the women’s laughter from the kitchen seeming to finish his sentence.

  Takuya looked away and hung his head. He could not bear betraying Terasawa’s kindness.

  He flushed with a sudden urge to confide in Terasawa. He could feel himself starting to panic, and fidgeted uncontrollably as he looked up at the ceiling. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself down, but felt his face turn red, as though all the blood in his body were rushing to his head. In his mind he could hear two opposing choruses of voices, one telling him that it was wrong to hide the truth from Terasawa any longer, the other that he shouldn’t do anything on impulse which could not be rectified afterward.

  Terasawa sat looking dejected, saying nothing.

  ‘To tell you the truth …’ Takuya began. As he spoke, the voice of caution seemed to repeat itself over and over again in the back of his mind. He felt himself break out in a cold sweat. Nevertheless, once he had uttered the first short sentence, the words flowed as though they had been a script waiting to be articulated. It was almost as if his mouth were moving independently of his mind. He could feel a faint nervous spasm in his knees start to spread through the rest of his body.

  Terasawa’s gaze was fixed on Takuya’s face, his expression one of utter astonishment. Though his fear of the possible consequences of his decision was undiminished, Takuya continued with his confession, a powerful surge of emotion driving him on.

  Takuya felt his eyes moisten as he finished his story.

  Terasawa sighed, and his hands shook slightly as he filled his pipe with tobacco and struck a match to light it.

  ‘So that was it. From the day I met you I thought you weren’t just some ordinary man off the street,’ he said. He sighed again, more deeply this time, but then turned his gaze back to Takuya as though he had just decided something, and said in a hushed but forceful tone, ‘You did well to own up to that. Leave it to me. I won’t say a word, not even to my wife or niece. Wherever you go it would be dangerous. Best to stay here, I’d say. I’ll make sure you’re safe.’

  Takuya bowed deeply, said nothing as he stood up, and returned to his own room. A wave of fatigue came over him as he sat down on his futon. While he had been happy to hear Terasawa’s kind words of support, he agonised that the punishment might not stop at him if his true identity were discovered. Speaking about his past against his better judgement was proof that he had come to rely too heavily on Terasawa’s goodwill. Takuya resolved to stick to his plan to go up to Ikuno and hide away in the depths of the mine.

  He had decided to return the forms for the job at the Ikuno mine the next time the workshop was closed due to power cuts, but when that day came he could not bring himself to walk out of the gate and go to the employment agency. In part, he did not feel determined enough to shake himself free of
his dependence on the Terasawas, but the main reason was his apprehension at being unable to imagine what life would be like underground in the mine. He could no longer find the mental fortitude necessary to push himself to move again.

  The rainy season started.

  Dressed in a long raincoat, Takuya trudged around the streets collecting payments and taking them to the bank. Terasawa’s attitude toward him had become slightly more respectful of late, and whenever he saw Takuya helping to unload incoming materials he called over one of the other workers to do it instead.

  A few days of thunderstorms brought the rainy season to an end. With the government having announced that the regulations covering the sale of matches would be lifted in autumn, a large number of would-be manufacturers started up businesses, which led to a dramatic increase in the demand for matchboxes. As orders began coming in from factories in the Kobe area, Takuya found himself increasingly busy organising large consignments to be shipped there by freight train.

  One day Takuya plucked up the courage to go to the black market and buy himself a pair of blue trousers, a shirt, some second-hand black shoes and a felt hat. A change of clothes was one thing, but he couldn’t bring himself to go further and visit the barber. The thought of sitting in the barber’s chair, his face exposed for all to see, made him continue letting Kameya cut his hair with the electric clippers.

  Whenever he left a piece of clothing out in his room, Teruko would take it away and return it later that day nicely washed and ironed. Terasawa’s wife was obviously behind this, but Takuya chose to say little more than a casual thank you each time he found the clothing back in his room.