David Peace - Tokyo Year Zero

Kimura nods again but Nishi says, ‘The First Team have already been up there.’

‘I know that,’ I tell him. ‘And I know they couldn’t find him or any mention of him, but his name on a statement of employment in his bag in that park is the only name we have found so far and, remember, our body is only bones and those bones need a name or they’ll always be bones…’

Nishi nods. Kimura nods. They both bow. They both turn to leave. I wait until they’ve gone and then I run. I run back to the toilets to vomit a third time. Yellow bile . I turn on the tap. I wash my face. I look up into the mirror. I stare into the mirror –

No one is who they say they are …

Ishida is wiping down the chairs and the tables, sweeping up the floor and the doorway, straightening our banner. Ishida looks up. He sees me. He flinches. Then he stands to attention –

‘At ease,’ I say as he bows and apologizes –

I ask, ‘Have you written up your report?’

He nods. He says, ‘Yes, I have, sir.’

‘Then I want you to do something for me,’ I tell him. ‘I want you to go to the offices of the Minpo newspaper…’

Ishida nods. Ishida bows again –

‘I want you to ask to see a Hayashi Jo…’

Ishida takes out his notebook –

‘Tell Hayashi to come see me…’

Ishida licks his pencil tip –

‘Now if he’s not there, I want you to find out who he has seen recently, where he has gone and when he’ll be back.’

Ishida nods. Ishida says, ‘I understand, sir.’

‘I’m depending on you, Ishida.’

Ishida nods. He bows. He turns to leave. Now I run again. Back to the toilets of Atago police station. I vomit again. Grey bile . Four times I have vomited in the toilets of Atago police station. Black bile, brown bile, yellow bile and grey . Four times I have looked into the mirror. Four times I have stared into that mirror –

I don’t want to remember. But in the half-light …

Four times I have screamed into the glass –

In the half-light, I can’t forget. I can’t forget …

I have screamed into my own face –

No one is who they say they are!

*

Inspectors Kanehara, Adachi and Kai have already left for Metro Headquarters, left in a car without me. Ton-ton . But I am glad. Ton-ton . I don’t care. Ton-ton . I want to walk. Ton-ton . In the shit. Ton-ton . In the dust. Ton-ton . In the dirt. Ton-ton . There is a typhoon approaching Japan. Ton-ton . But it won’t hit Tokyo. Ton-ton . Not this time. Ton-ton . Not this one. Ton-ton . But the air is still heavy with its approach. Ton-ton . The people wilting in the streets. Ton-ton . The stalls at the sides of the road quiet. Ton-ton . Men sat on their butts slowly shelling nuts to sell, slowly stripping down old wirelesses for parts. Ton-ton . Nut by nut, part by part, as slowly as they can. Ton- ton. Frightened to finish, frightened of having no more nuts to shell, of having no more wirelesses to strip, of having nothing more to do –

Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …

Nothing more to do but think, think about food –

Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …

My stomach aches. My head aches –

Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …

My feet ache. My eyes ache –

Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …

I curse! I curse! I curse!

Ton-ton. Ton-ton …

I curse myself –

Ton-ton .

*

I knock on the door to Chief Kita’s office. I open it. I bow deeply. I apologize profusely. I take my seat at the table; the same people, the same place, the same time and the same two conversations every day but today I am late so I have missed all their talk of the Tokyo trials and the rumours of purges. Now the talk around the table has turned again to SCAP, to their so-called reforms, all of which are based on the recommendations of former New York Police Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine, and to the SCAP puppet Tanikawa, the chief of the Police Affairs Bureau at the Home Ministry –

‘He’s helping them purge good hard-working officers,’ Kanehara is saying, ‘and replacing them with policewomen, turning female clerks into police officers, giving them the authority to arrest suspects or to take them back to the stations…’

‘Tanikawa is a fool,’ agrees Adachi. ‘A fool and a stooge.’

‘He might be a fool and a stooge,’ says Kanehara, ‘but he’s not finished yet; have you seen the kind of reforms they want to include in the proposed new Police Bill? Not only policewomen with powers of arrest and detention, but an emphasis on the recruitment of college graduates above all other recruits…’

‘All communists,’ says Kai –

‘Exactly,’ continues Kanehara. ‘And then let’s not forget the centrepiece of the Bill; the prevention of unreasonable or unjustifiable detention in police cells or jails. You know what this will mean? That for every single suspect you pick up, there will have to be either some proof of guilt or some actual charge. There will be no more picking people up and holding them until you find the evidence or gain a confession. There will have to be either evidence or a charge before you can touch them. If not, then you’ll be the one charged — with violating the suspect’s human rights!’

‘Human rights!’ everyone laughs.

‘Like all this talk of new uniforms,’ says Kai. ‘All these calls for less militaristic ones, of blue instead of khaki, of sleeve stripes instead of shoulder boards. All this talk of new uniforms when we barely have enough men left…’

‘We’ve asked and asked and asked them for new uniforms,’ says Kanehara. ‘New uniforms and new boots or, if not new uniforms or new boots, then new material to patch up our old uniforms or new soles for our old boots, anything that stops our men looking like tramps and being despised by the public as tramps…’

‘And they’ve promised and promised us,’ says Adachi –

‘Yes,’ says Kanehara. ‘But that’s all they’ve done…’

The same people, the same place, the same time and the same two conversations every day, meeting after meeting until there is another knock on the door and another interruption –

‘Excuse me,’ says another uniform –

‘What is it?’ barks the chief –

‘The mothers are ready, sir.’

*

The autopsies have been performed, the search of the area has been completed, and five of the mothers have been told to come back to Headquarters. Five mothers who read the morning paper or heard the news from neighbours two days ago. Five mothers who have taken out their last good kimonos again. Five mothers who have called upon their other daughters or their sisters for a third time. Five mothers who have once again begged the streetcar or train fare up to Sakuradamon. Five mothers still looking for their daughters –

Five mothers praying we have not found them.

A uniformed officer opens the door to the reception room for Inspector Kai and me. Kai and I apologize to these five mothers for keeping them waiting, these five mothers in their last good kimonos, their other daughters or their sisters at their sides –

Praying and praying and praying …

These five mothers whose daughters’ ages and descriptions, their heights and their weights, the scars their daughters bore or the teeth their daughters lost, the clothes they were wearing and the shoes on their feet, the bags they were carrying –

On the days they were last seen …