David Peace - Tokyo Year Zero

In her white half-sleeved chemise and pink socks –

Her white canvas shoes with red rubber soles –

‘Asobu …? Asobu …? Asobu…?’

Her hair is black. Her skin is white –

Under an archway. In a shadow –

‘Asobu …? Asobu…?’

‘Asobu?’ she asks me in a harsh Tōhoku accent and I nod and I follow her deeper under the archway, deeper into the shadows where she asks me for the money first –

‘I’ve no money,’ I tell her –

And I curse myself again …

I take out my police notebook. I show her my police notebook and she curses me now and says, ‘I’m with the White Bird Society.’

‘So what?’ I tell her as I kneel her down on all fours–

I kneel her down on all fours and I raise her dress –

Her yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress …

She wears no underwear. She is naked beneath –

I screw her backside as she curses and curses –

On her knees. On her knees. On her knees … I turn her over and I lie her on her back –

I screw her cunt and then I come –

No country. No heart …

‘Finished?’ she asks in her harsh Tōhoku accent and I nod as she pushes me off her and stands back up and dusts herself down, rubbing at her knees and then at her palms –

Night is day. Day is night. The men are the women …

I stand before her now and I bow. I say, ‘I’m sorry I have no money. I’m very sorry. What’s your name?’

The women are the men …

And she tilts back her head, deep under the arch, deep in the shadows, and she laughs, ‘You choose: Mitsuko? Yori? Kazuko? Yoshie? Tatsue? Hiroko? Yoshiko? Ryuko? Go on, you choose…’

The dead are the living. The living are the dead …

‘Your name is Yuki,’ I tell her. ‘Yuki.’

*

I close my eyes, but I can’t sleep. Day is night . I can hear the rain falling. I open my eyes, but I can’t think. Night is day . I can see the sun shining. I close my eyes, but can’t sleep. Day is night . The good detective visits the crime scene one hundred times. I open my eyes, but can’t think. Night is day . The black night light behind the white Shiba trees. Close my eyes, but can’t sleep. Day is night . The white trees that have seen so much. Open my eyes, but can’t think. Night is day . The white branches that have borne so much. Close my eyes, can’t sleep. Day is night . The white leaves that have come again. Open my eyes, can’t think. Night is day . To grow and to fall and to grow again. Close eyes, can’t sleep. Day is night . I turn away. Open eyes, can’t think. Night is day . I walk away from the scene of the crime. Close, can’t sleep. Day is night . Beneath the Black Gate. Open, can’t think. Night is day . The dog still waits. Can’t sleep. Day is night . The dog still waits. Can’t think. Night is day . The dog still waits. Can’t. Day is night . The dog still waits. Can’t. Night is day . The dog still waits. Can’t. Day . The dog still waits. Can’t. Night …

Tokyo, 89°, slightly cloudy

There are dark grey clouds in the bleached white sky as night turns to day. I am vomiting in the toilets of Atago police station. Black bile again . There are newly written signs on the peeling plaster walls as I walk back upstairs. I stand over the sink. There are local government warnings about fresh outbreaks of cholera. I spit. There are instructions to refrain from drinking unboiled water, especially well-water, and to refrain from eating uncooked foods, especially raw fish. I wash my face. I look up into the mirror. I stare into the mirror –

No one is who they say they are …

There are seven grey faces waiting for me in the borrowed room upstairs; Hattori, Takeda, Sanada, Shimoda, and Kimura; Ishida with his worries and Nishi with his black eye. No Fujita now …

They walked round Shiba all day yesterday. Investigation is footwork . They asked round Shiba all day yesterday. Investigation is footwork . They described the suspect all day yesterday. Investigation is footwork . They described the victim all day yesterday –

The yellow and dark-blue striped pinafore dress …

I ask Hattori and Takeda what they found out –

‘Nothing whatsoever,’ say Takeda and Hattori.

The white half-sleeved chemise and pink socks …

I ask Sanada and Shimoda what they found –

‘Nothing at all,’ they both tell me.

The white canvas shoes …

I ask Kimura and Ishida –

‘Nothing,’ they say.

But they are looking at me now with questions in their eyes. They are looking at me with doubts in their eyes –

But I am the head of the room …

They are looking at me now with dissent in their eyes. They are looking at me with hate in their eyes –

I am the head. I am the boss …

I divide them into different sets of pairs; Takeda and Ishida, Hattori and Shimoda, Sanada and Kimura. I leave Nishi for later –

I am the boss! I am the boss!

I hand two missing persons reports to Takeda and Ishida; Ishihara Michiko and Ōzeki Hiromi, aged sixteen and seventeen years old. I am the head of this room . I hand two missing persons reports to Hattori and Shimoda; Konuma Yasuyo and Sugai Seiko, aged seventeen and eighteen years old. I am the Boss of this Room . I hand two missing persons reports to Sanada and Kimura; Tanabe Shimeko and Honma Fumiko, both eighteen years old. I am the head! I tell Nishi to go and wait for me in the cells downstairs –

I am the boss! I am the boss! I am the boss!

‘These are all reports of missing girls aged fifteen to twenty,’ I tell the rest of the room. ‘And these are all reports of girls who went missing between the fifteenth and the thirty-first of July this year. And so one of these girls might be our girl…’

I am the boss! I am the boss!

‘So I want them found!’

I am the boss!

I run back to the toilets. I vomit again. Brown bile . I walk over to the sink. I spit. I wipe my mouth. I turn on the tap. I wash my face again. I look up into the mirror. I stare into that mirror –

No one is who they say they are …

Detective Nishi is waiting for me in the cells downstairs. Nishi with his black eye and darker fears. Nishi shocked now. Nishi surprised now. Nishi up against the cell wall. My face in his face. But Nishi knows what I want. Nishi must know what I want –

But he starts to apologize about yesterday. He starts to say, ‘I’m sorry about my behaviour yesterday. In the truck…’

I don’t want to hear his apologies or his lies –

Nishi knows why I’m here. He knows what I want. Nishi must know why I’m here. He must know what I want –

But Nishi keeps apologizing and lying –

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again and again. ‘My behaviour yesterday, it was unacceptable, in the truck. I’m sorry…’

But Nishi is lying. He must be lying. Nishi must know what I want. He must know why I’m here before I say, ‘I want that file.’

‘What file?’ asks Nishi and asks again, ‘What file …?’

He must know before I ask again, ‘Where is the file?’

‘What file?’ he asks and asks again, ‘What file …?’

‘The file you signed out!’ I shout. ‘That file!’ He shakes his head and says, ‘I don’t know.’