David Peace - Tokyo Year Zero

‘Thank you,’ we say as she bows to wish us goodnight.

*

In insect silence, they gather in the genkan of our house to watch me leave. This is defeat . They watch me put on my boots. This is defeat . They follow me out of the door of our house. This is defeat . They follow me down the garden path of our house. This is defeat . They stand at the gate to our house. This is defeat . They watch me walk away from our house and they wave. This is defeat . They watch me walk down our street and they wave. This is defeat . Every time I turn around. This is defeat . Every time I turn around. This is defeat…

‘Please remember us. Please don’t forget us, Daddy…’

For my wife, for my daughter and for my son –

Defeat. Defeat. Defeat. Defeat…

For my father and for my mother –

Defeat. Defeat. Defeat…

For my elder brother –

Defeat. Defeat…

This defeat that lasts for every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year –

I am one of the survivors…

This is surrender. This is occupation –

One of the lucky ones…

This is defeat.

*

We have washed our faces and we have pissed. We have taken off our trousers and taken off our shirts. We have said goodnight and switched off the electric bulb. Now I lie awake and wait for Ishida to fall asleep. Until I hear his breathing begin to slow –

Until I hear him sleeping deeply now –

It is oven hot and pitch black…

I turn slowly and quietly onto my chest. I move off my futon and onto the tatami mats. I crawl with the bugs and the cockroaches across the floor, across the room towards his knapsack. Now I ease open the bag and I search around inside –

Something cold, metallic…

I take out the gun. It is a 1939 army-issue pistol. It is loaded. Now I raise the pistol in the dark. I aim and I point it at Ishida –

I could kill him here. I could kill him now…

But I lower the pistol. I put the gun back inside his knapsack. I close the bag. I crawl back across the floor, back across the tatami to my own futon and my own knapsack. Now I open the bag –

I have to sleep. I have to sleep…

I take out the pills that Senju gave me. Not Calmotin tonight. Senju had no Calmotin. But Senju has a hoard –

Veronal. Muronal. Numal…

Senju always has a stock –

I do not count.

Banzai! Ninety Calmotin, ninety-one. Four in the morning, the eastern sky is whitening. The road wet with dew, we march towards the hospital. The streets are deserted, the Sun in the Blue Sky flag already fallen. Lieutenant Shigefuji leads the charge inside the hospital. The Chinks robbed the Japanese . Nurses in white cower before us, patients still lain in their beds. The Chinks raped the Japanese . Muddy boots now jump upon the beds, upon the white uniforms. The Chinks murdered the Japanese . A child stabbed against a wall, blood gushing from his chest, crouches on the floor. Masaki, Banzai! A pale woman sleeping in her bed, mouth open, never to awaken. Daddy, Banzai! We kick the corpses of the Chinese dead as they would kick the corpses of our dead. Banzai! Tomorrow the main units will move out but we shall remain. Acacia leaves fly down the streets . To keep the peace. In the dust and the dirt . To maintain law and order. On the yellow wind . Among the corpses. One hundred Calmotin, one hundred and one. Kasahara and I transport the three bandits by rickshaw down the T’ai-ma-lu Road. The old mother grows weary . The first bandit groans. A cigarette! Give me a cigarette! Their arms are twisted behind them, their legs locked with large shackles. Beggars and coolies, Germans and Japanese swarm around the rickshaw. Waiting for the return of her beloved child . The second bandit cries. Give me a P’ao-t’ai-pai! No cheap shit! The crowd pour wine into the mouths of the bandits. The rickshaws enter the square in front of the station. The young wife adorned in red . The third bandit screams. The rickshaw pullers lower their staffs. Soldiers push back the black crowds. Kasahara and I order the three men to be dragged out of the carriages. Keeps a lonely watch over the empty bed . The eldest bandit begins to sing a song of war. Sons of bitches! Did I murder anyone, you sons of bitches? These Chinks robbed Japanese settlers . Kneel! I shout. Go ahead and do it! I’m not scared! These Chinks raped Japanese settlers . Turn to the west! I shout. Bring me pork dumplings! Give me pork dumplings! These Chinks murdered Japanese settlers . The crowd surges forward again. That fat bastard cries like a little baby . The smell of garlic, the metallic whispers. Do it! Do it! I give the order. Two soldiers are covered in steaming blood as the headless corpse pitches forward. Hurrah! Hurrah! My mouth full of bile. The crowd applaud. I swallow the bile. Hurrah! Hurrah! Three women, their feet bound in black, totter out of the crowd. Hurrah! Hurrah! The women carry peeled buns impaled on the ends of three long chopsticks. Don’t let her see! My mouth full of bile again. The three women press the three buns into the wounds of the three dead bandits. Don’t let her see! I swallow the bile. The white buns soak up the blood and turn red. Don’t let her see! My mouth fills again. The three women eat the three blood-soaked buns. Don’t let her see! I vomit behind a rickshaw. Yuan-na! A woman has fought her way through the crowds. Yuan-na! An older man checks her in his embrace. Yuan-na! He was innocent, she cries. It was the Japanese! It was the Japanese! One hundred and ten Calmotin, one hundred and eleven. Fields of pampas grass, mountains of pine woods. Down with Japanese Imperialism! Every wall of every house of every town

Tochigi Prefecture, 89°, very fine

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

The sound of hammering, the hammering on a door –

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

I open my eyes. I don’t recognize this ceiling –

Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …

Now I recognize this room, and this door –

Ton-ton. Ton-ton. Ton-ton …

I get up. No Ishida . I go to the door –

Ton-ton. Ton-ton …

I don’t open it. ‘Who is it?’

‘The Kanuma police…’

I curse and I curse again …

I slide open the door –

‘I am Tachibana, the chief of police for Kanuma,’ says the small, fat, youngish man who now bows. ‘Pleased to meet you —’

His uniform too tight. His buttons polished too bright …

‘Detective Minami,’ I tell him. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

Has he spoken to Tokyo? Has he heard about Fujita?

Tachibana says, ‘I am sorry to have woken you…’

‘Don’t apologize,’ I tell him. ‘It was difficult to sleep with the heat and all the insects. I should have been awake hours ago…’

Tachibana says, ‘We were expecting you in Kanuma but…’

‘My mistake again. I am sorry. I should have called you…’