David Peace - Tokyo Year Zero

Senju takes off his American sunglasses now –

Senju stood before his men, before his troops; the Sho gun of Shimbashi beneath the night sky, outside his emergency field headquarters; the emperor of all he surveys –

‘Where would you be, detective?’

I shrug my shoulders but I do not reply to him. I say nothing –

Nishi, Kimura and half of Atago are here with me tonight –

I am here as a policeman tonight. I am not here to beg…

More to the point,’ continues Senju. ‘Where were the police? Nowhere, that’s where. These Koreans, Formosans and Chinese, they try to walk all over us and where are you? Nowhere…

‘And what do you do? Nothing …’ he sighs –

I curse him. I curse him. I curse him…

‘Nothing but beg…’

The stall-holders of the New Life Market, all risen from their sleep, roused from their dreams, are lining up to give Senju their support and their supplies for the coming war, bowing as they offer him their best sake, meat and polished white rice –

I am here as a policeman…

‘Because if I’ve got money, if I’ve got cigarettes, if I’ve got alcohol or some special food in, then I can always find a policeman, I can always count on meeting one or tripping over one grovelling around on his hands and his knees, begging for sleeping pills…’

And I curse myself…

‘The Formosans are hardly walking all over you,’ I tell him. ‘They just want stalls in your New Life Market, just like they had stalls in your old Black Market, but you won’t give them any…’

But Senju is not listening. Senju is just speaking –

‘They act like the Victors but they won nothing! Beat no one! They didn’t fight and they didn’t win. They just got lucky! Lucky to be allowed over here and lucky to still be here…’

‘There weren’t only Formosans in those trucks,’ I tell him. ‘There were Japanese too; I know because I saw them myself.’

‘When you were taking their money to keep away?’

‘No one wants another war,’ I tell him. ‘Not now.’

‘Another war?’ spits Senju. ‘It’s the same war…’

I shake my head. ‘GHQ will close you down.’

‘See?’ he laughs. ‘It’s always the same war!’

‘Then the Formosans will have won it.’

‘The Formosans win?’ laughs Senju again. ‘Never, and I’ll tell you why, detective. Thousands of people depend on this market. If I let the Formosans or the Yankees close me down or drive me out then this market will die and if this market dies then so will the thousands of people who depend on it and depend on me…’

‘If they close you down,’ I say. ‘You’ve lost.’

‘Never! Never! Never!’ shouts Senju. ‘I have never lost. I have never been defeated and I never will be. Not by the kuso Formosans! Not by the kuso Koreans! Not by the kuso Chinese! Not by the kuso Yankees and not by the kuso police and the likes of you!

‘I’ve never lost! Never been defeated! And I never will be!’

‘So what are you going do?’ I ask him –

‘You kill one of mine,’ says Senju –

‘I’ll kill ten of yours, I swear!’

I look up at the night sky above us all. There are no stars out tonight. I shake my head again. I bow to him. I start to walk away –

‘See you later, detective,’ he shouts. ‘Don’t forget…’

Nishi and Kimura following behind me –

‘Because I never forget,’ he says –

‘I never forget a debt; not to the living and not to the dead.’

*

Men talk about the dead in their sleep. Men remember the dead in their sleep. Their fathers, their mothers, their wives and their lovers. Their family and friends, their colleagues and comrades. There are over one million urns containing the ashes of the war dead still unclaimed by their bereaved families. These urns contain the ashes from all ranks of the military and naval war dead. The First and Second Demobilization Bureaus who are responsible for the issuance of death notices and for the care of the dead say that many of the ashes have been transferred to their institution in a haphazard fashion and they are increasingly unable to verify whether all the ashes and remains of the war dead in their care actually belong to those of military personnel. The Bureaus are also encountering numerous difficulties in returning the ashes of the dead to their relatives who have often moved from their former addresses or had them destroyed. Moreover, the absence of claimants is usually as a result of death –

Their stomachs empty, their dreams lost…

Up until this June, the Demobilization Bureaus also received a grant of fifteen yen for taking care of each individual urn. However, since June, these institutions have been deprived of this grant. Lack of these finances has made it impossible for the institutions to order the construction of new boxes for depositing the ashes. Presently, new boxes are still being made out of lumber in stock but the day will soon come when the ashes of the war dead will have to be returned to their relatives in ordinary plain brown wrapping paper –

They are hungry, they are starving…

Men talk about the dead in their sleep. Men remember the dead in their sleep; their fathers, their mothers, their wives and their lovers; their family and friends, their colleagues and comrades. Men talk about ghosts and demons in their sleep –

Their masters gone…

I have sat in this borrowed chair with my head on this borrowed desk through the rest of the night. I have closed my eyes but I have not slept. I open my eyes but I do not wake. I read their reports. I read old newspapers. Now the dawn is coming up but it still feels old. Dead. Like the last light at the beginning of a long night. Lost and dead. Not a new morning. No new mornings here. I sit up in my borrowed chair. I look around. No Fujita. I close my eyes again –

Tonight I will sleep. Tonight I will sleep. Tonight I will…

I open them. I look up at the uniform standing over me –

The uniformed officer has a telegram in his hand.

*

Four officers from Takanawa are unbuttoning their uniforms. The mosquitoes circle . The four officers strip down to their underwear. The mosquitoes attack . The four officers jump into the Shiba Canal. The water stinks . The four officers swim over to the wooden door floating in the canal. The water black . The four officers guide the door towards the side of the canal where we are all stood. In the sun . The chief nods. In the heat . The four officers turn over the door. I curse . The body of a drowned man, naked and bound to the door –

Hayashi Jo naked and bound to the back of the door…

Bound with his hands and feet nailed to the door –

His hands and feet then nailed to the door…

The door then thrown into the canal –

Hayashi face down in the water…

His mouth and lungs full –

He drowns as he floats…

Bound and nailed –

I kneel before him. I say, ‘Hayashi Jo of the Minpo paper.’

*

Was it Senju or Fujita? Nobody knows his name. Everybody knows his name. Fujita or Senju? Nobody cares. Everybody cares. Senju or Fujita? The day is night. The night is day. Fujita or Senju? Black is white. White is black. Senju or Fujita? The men are the women. The women are the men. Fujita or Senju? The brave are the frightened. The frightened are the brave. Senju or Fujita? The strong are the weak. The weak are the strong. Fujita or Senju? The good are the bad. The bad are the good. Senju or Fujita? Communists should be set free. Communists should be locked up. Fujita or Senju? Strikes are legal. Strikes are illegal. Senju or Fujita? Democracy is good. Democracy is bad. Fujita or Senju? The aggressor is the victim. The victim is the aggressor. Senju or Fujita? The winners are the losers. The losers are the winners. Fujita or Senju? Japan lost the war. Japan won the war. Senju or Fujita? The living are the dead. The dead are the living. Fujita or Senju? I am alive. I am dead –