Bob van Laerhoven - Return to Hiroshima

“You’ll be one of the main characters in my book,” Reizo said. “Perhaps you’ll be the only one to survive on the island where they take the teenagers, to film them fighting duels like gladiators in the arenas of ancient Rome.” His movements were rapid and angular, but he spoke in a drawl. The back of his hand was covered in cuts. Arena? Duels? What was the boy going on about?

“You’ll be my tragic heroine,” Reizo continued enraptured. “And you’ve given me an idea for the title: “The Girl who Committed Seppuku .” He looked pleased. “The title alone will cause controversy. A woman committing ritual suicide like the warriors of old is a frontal attack on one of the most commonly misunderstood symbols of our patriarchal society.”

I don’t trust all this strutting and posing. Reizo is a damaged young man who enjoys humiliating others. His fashionable appearance conceals a dangerous hysteria. I wonder when he finds the time to work on his novel. He talks about it endlessly, but I’ve yet to see him write a single word. The fragments he tells me about remind me of extreme manga. Full of sex and violence. You can see he hates society. Reizo is always going on about how his novel is structured. “It’s complicated yet logical, like honeycomb, or a dna helix. Everything is connected with everything else. Borrowed time. Squandered time. That’s why I have to help the reader. God is omnipresent, even in the smallest part of himself. Only humans need chronology; without it they’d go mad.” I listen to his drivel with a straight face, I don’t want any trouble. Most of the members of the Suicide Club seem to be pretty self-centred. There’s a constant coming and going in the community room, which used to be a machine shed. Yori is often out, too. I had hoped she would become a friend, but her initial interest in me has flagged. Or perhaps her attitude is part of the group’s rituals. For the time being, the advantages of being part of this constantly squabbling community outweigh the disadvantages. I’ve got a roof over my head and the opportunity to decide what to do with my life.

Imagine flagpoles in the middle of a desert, their flags torn and tattered; that’s what my life feels like.

So many bodies, so closely packed together, for such a long time, pressed into the consecrated space of the Hiroshima sanctuary; the temperature is rising, the bodies sweating. The Blessed One has prohibited air conditioning because of its negative influence on alpha waves. Despite the sweltering heat, there’s no unpleasant odour; the disciples of the Blessed One don’t stink like the unclean. Their bodies have reached a higher astral level than those of ordinary people. Reizo Shiga, whose hair – stiff with gel and dyed a yellow blonde – has already attracted disapproving glances from the undersecretary leading the meeting, is trying to look devout and get through the service on his best behaviour. Certain that the undersecretary will comment on his appearance after the service, he’s prepared his response: In the company of the unclean, you have to lure them into your trap, win their confidence by pretending you’re one of them, so that their final annihilation will go as smoothly as possible. A large screen on the altar is showing a video of the Blessed One welcoming a new disciple at the Brotherhood’s headquarters in Tokyo. Reizo Shiga hears the same words that welcomed him three months ago. “Cast off your old, polluted body,” says the Blessed One after the new novice has kissed his ruby ring. “Today, you will shed your skin. Your old family has disappeared. The blood that tied you has been cleansed and renewed. Your new family consists of tens of thousands of brothers and sisters, and it will grow until the end of time.” The eyes of the Blessed One, as good as blind to worldly light but shining milky white like celestial pearls, look up from the novice now kneeling before him, and gaze into the hall through the screen. He raises a finger to heaven, his face as rigid as a puppet’s and his lips moving constantly. “Today, I was asked an interesting question by a young brother. He asked me: ‘Master, what do you mean by annihilating the unclean? Do we have to kill them all? Is that allowed?’ I told him to look into his own heart and cleanse himself before attempting to understand the answer to that question. Unless our emotions are pure and clear, we cannot grasp the concept of death. Yet the solution to this ethical problem is simple and logical: if by killing unclean beings you elevate them to a higher plane of existence, they will be happier than if you allow them to continue their miserable and spiritually empty life. However, such judgements can only be passed by someone who can fathom the process of rebirth and the transmigration of the soul. Anyone who does not have the ability to see what happens with the soul after death may not take a life. I, Shoko Asahara, have followed the path of the Mahayanas, and I am telling you that my heart is filled with compassion, its only aim is the deliverance of damaged, lost, suffering souls. Train your body and soul rigorously in accordance with the principles I have revealed to you. Free your soul, and you will understand what I mean.”

Reizo Shiga is gazing at the screen in awe, just like the other novices. He hides his envy. The man possesses powers Shiga can only dream of. Despite the limitations of the video screen, powerful alpha waves emanate from the Blessed One and shower his followers like a rain of golden light, sending them to their knees. Reizo Shiga, kneeling like the others, vows that he will not rest until he has acquired the same power.

Then the undersecretary takes over. After some singing he recites sayings of the Blessed One, which the disciples are to learn by heart. Next, tasks are appointed to help the Brotherhood achieve swift domination over the soiled earth. Great things are set to happen, but caution must prevail, as the corrupt police and the government of Nippon are especially affected by the virus of decline that has been plaguing Japan for the last decade. Alertness, secrecy, patience, diligence and unconditional obedience to the Blessed One are more vital than ever. Adhering to a strict training regime is the only way to achieve the alpha quotient that offers enlightened members of the Brotherhood the prospect of taking a step towards the Blessed One. They will then be able to will the molecules of their body to disintegrate and pass through walls like ghosts, just like the Blessed One himself. Distance will become meaningless to them, as they will have the power to project their astral bodies to any place they deem necessary. The undersecretary produces a black box with two buttons and an antenna. “With this latest invention, our Ministry of Science has made it possible to put one of the Blessed One’s visions to practical use. This teleporter is directly connected to the Blessed One’s prayer mat, transmitting sublime vibrations whenever the master recites a mantra in meditation. The Blessed One has authorised me to distribute ten teleporters to the best disciples of Hiroshima. Summon all your forces to compete for this precious device. It will boost your alpha potential enormously!”

As Reizo Shiga steps down from the Takanobashi tram, hours of exhausting yoga exercises, meditation, and tests to gauge his pain threshold behind him, his brain is throbbing with alpha energy. He’s confident that he’ll be one of the ten to secure a teleporter. On his way to meet his girlfriend Yori, he crosses the main road and walks through the red-light district of Mitsukoshi. A woman, young, slightly tipsy, emerges from a love hotel . There’s something about the way she walks that reminds Reizo of the other streetwalkers. Her handbag is silvery, glittering. She’s leaving work early today, probably because she realises she’s had too much to drink. Reizo Shiga follows her and watches her closely. On the corner of the street, close to a lamppost, he strikes. He’s done this many times in the past months. He knows for certain that he’s good at it, perhaps the best. He was surprised by his own brutality first time round, but the woman’s bloodied face only urged him on, like coke bubbling in his veins. Since then, Shiga has developed a fast and effective technique: a sharp blow to the shoulder with his elbow, paralysing the arm that holds the bag, while yanking down the strap with his other hand. The girls are usually too startled or frightened to react. Sometimes they’re drugged and they gaze at him goggle-eyed, pupils dilated, swaying on their legs. Reizo Shiga knows he can use more violence – and get more satisfaction – if he doesn’t rob girls on the street, where he needs to be fast, but this will have to do for the time being. His latest victim is tough. She slaps him and screams. There’s no time to think. The alpha energy he built up in the sanctuary is discharging. Shiga butts her with his forehead. She reels backwards, hits the back of her head against a lamppost and sinks to the ground, unconscious. He snatches the bag and makes his getaway. “Where are the police when you need them?” he mutters with a grin. Nothing can beat this overwhelming feeling of power, this buzz of pure consciousness. Further down the road he starts rummaging in the bag without slowing his pace. He finds a large amount of yen, more than he’d dared hope for, and more than enough to score a couple of times.