Yasushi Inoue - Bullfight

“So how do you think I got the three hundred grand? I borrowed it from a stranger.”

Okabe’s tone, as he spoke these two brief sentences, sounded oddly intense and sharp in comparison with his usual tone. He had set his sights on a man named Yamamoto, a former Diet member from the same prefecture who had made a fortune doing business with the military, and decided that come what may he would find a way to get three hundred thousand yen out of him. He went straight from Akebono Manufacturing to Yamamoto’s house in Mikage and cajoled and pleaded with the man to lend him three hundred thousand yen as a favor to a child of the same prefecture, but to no avail — obviously there had never been any chance that Yamamoto would agree. Okabe visited Yamamoto’s house three times that day, and on the third he finally sat down on the packed dirt floor of the entryway and refused to budge, only to be struck by a sudden, almost mystical flash of inspiration: he would take out a three-hundred-thousand-yen life insurance policy and use the contract as security.

Without waiting another moment he rushed off to N. Life, which was operating from a temporary location in the burned-out area around Yodoyabashi, but by the time he arrived it was evening and the office was closed. He had no choice but to ask the employee keeping watch to look up the home address of the insurance section chief and then go off and barge into his house in Suita, asking for a three-hundred-thousand-yen contract. The insurance section chief’s response was negative: I can’t do it today, you’ll have to come by the office tomorrow. Ah, I’m afraid that won’t work, Okabe told him, and with that they entered into a long series of exchanges that finally ended with Okabe getting exactly what he wanted. He handed over three thousand yen and went away that same evening with a provisional contract worth three hundred thousand yen. He got on one of the last trains, went back to Yamamoto’s house, and pushed as hard as he possibly could, telling him he had the life insurance contract right here to use as security, so wouldn’t he please just lend him the money?

“And it worked. In retrospect, of course, a life insurance contract isn’t worth anything. But that’s what makes people so fascinating! The way he saw it, I was putting my life on the line. So he said, ‘All right, if you’re that determined I’ll lend you the money for a month, that’s all.’ And that was how I got started doing what I do now.”

Tsugami found it difficult to fathom Okabe’s true intentions in recounting his past adventures as a swindler — since that was what it was — but the tale didn’t bore him. Okabe’s tone had in it a sort of self-absorption that was almost passionate.

“Interesting story,” Tsugami said, not entirely out of politeness.

“Anyway, that’s basically the kind of guy I am. Only now I’ve got ten or twenty million yen in my pocket. So how about it, Mr. Tsugami? You think I might be able to help out with this bullfighting thing your paper is planning?”

Tsugami, caught off guard, locked eyes with Okabe for a moment; Okabe glanced away, took his time lighting a cigarette, and then turned to face Tsugami again. There was a stony, insistent glare in his eyes that said he would not give up easily.

“If you don’t want to buy the bulls as a joint investment, I’ll buy them all myself. I’ll also assume all the shipping costs, the costs associated with the tournament, and everything else relating to the bulls. You run the project without having to pay a thing, turn as much of a profit as you like.” Okabe’s voice was quiet but his tone made it clear he would brook no opposition.

“I’m afraid that won’t work,” Tsugami said, once Okabe had said his piece.

Tsugami couldn’t argue with the fact that accepting his proposal would result in a sweet deal for the newspaper, even if Okabe’s character made him slightly uneasy. But he had been seized with an intense dislike for those two little eyes, brimming with confidence, that were now trained upon him. He felt agitated, as if he and Okabe were engaged in a duel, and the motions of his spirit drained his face ever so slightly of its color, infusing it with a look of elation.

“No, I think the paper had better manage this on its own. This is my first project of this type, after all.”

Okabe held his tumbler and listened, nodding politely. Then, when Tsugami had finished, he let the subject drop surprisingly easily: “I see. Yes indeed. Well, too bad, but I guess it can’t be helped.”

He poured Tsugami another glass of whiskey, as if to change his mood.

“I must say,” he boomed as he poured, “I like you. I like your style. You’re absolutely right, this is your idea, your job. Of course you should do it on your own! To tell you the truth, I feel even better now that you’ve turned me down.”

You couldn’t tell how sincere Okabe was being, but he did seem in high spirits.

It had felt like night in the basement room, with all the electric lighting; when they stepped outside again, a winter dusk was just beginning to drape itself over the charred, burned-out strip.

“Why did you refuse?” Tashiro said, running up behind Tsugami. “What a waste!”

“Yes, it’s a waste.”

Tsugami didn’t need Tashiro to tell him; he was thinking the same thing. The two men turned up the collars of their overcoats and walked shoulder to shoulder; then, as they stepped to the side of the road to avoid a passing truck and briefly stood facing each other, Tashiro spoke.

“Perhaps I should have mentioned this earlier. Actually, we have a bit of a problem.”

Eight railway cars were needed to move twenty-two bulls, but at present only two were leaving W. each day. Obviously they couldn’t proceed with just two, so Tashiro had been negotiating with the Hiroshima Railway Bureau for special permission to extend the train; so far, however, he had made no headway. The authorities had pointed out that the timing was bad in terms of the availability of coal, and in any event they simply didn’t have any extra cars. Tsugami walked on in silence. He felt as if he were looking at the ocean, watching another enormous whitecap heave itself up as it rushed toward the shore.

“Under the circumstances,” Tashiro said, “I don’t think we have any choice but to ask Okabe to use his business connections, get him to talk with the Railway Bureau, and convince them to find some way around this. That’s the only solution.”

Tsugami stopped in his tracks and cast an accusatory glance at Tashiro.

“You’d already told him, hadn’t you.”

Tashiro smirked. “He’s quite a man. You turn him down, and still he wants to step in and give us a helping hand.”

Tsugami really had no desire to be on the receiving end of a helping hand or even a helping finger from Okabe, but he understood that it was already too late: without his realizing it, that small, fearless man had insinuated himself into the bullfighting tournament. Obviously Tashiro had already been to see Okabe about this problem, and that business about buying the bulls was his bargaining chip.

*

Sakiko had not paid a visit to Tsugami since the calendar returned to January. From late autumn into the New Year, Tsugami had spent almost every night at the office, abandoning even a planned visit to his parents’ house in rural Tottori so that he could keep dashing around taking care of preparations for the bullfight. The one exception had been the last day of the year, when Sakiko insisted that they go hear the temple bells being struck, and he agreed, and they went up to Kyoto and spent the night at an inn in Okazaki they had been to before, in a room so quiet that if you sat still you could hear the water coursing in the canal.