Jung-myung Lee - The Investigation

He fixed his gaze on the rusted strings. ‘It was just to survive,’ he muttered. ‘It was a decent way to rip off the rich. I didn’t dare play, so I learned how to tune.’

She knew that couldn’t be the whole story. His tortured expression wasn’t that of someone who remembered trying to make a few yen here and there. When he was tuning the piano, he was an artist searching for the best sound.

She shook her head. ‘No, I can tell. Your voice is tender, almost loving, when you call out a note from the other side of the piano. All of your senses are focused on the sound. You’re reading the player’s heart.’

But the man in front of her had turned back into a stern prison guard. He looked tired, like an exile pursued by his golden-hued past. He didn’t reply, instead tending to the piano carefully, separating strings and actions, wiping away the rust with soft leather and recovering standard pitches. He reversed the damage to the hammer and damper. He adjusted the resistance and working range of the keys and found a uniform touch. The piano slowly regained its elegance; the sounds gradually recaptured their colours. His voice became stronger as well. ‘G!’

A few weeks later, Warden Hasegawa and Director Morioka walked into the auditorium together. They were all smiles, thrilled that the piano was returning to its former glory. Hasegawa was positively vibrating; he was honoured to be in the presence of a respected Fukuoka luminary. He looked at the piano with reverence as though he wanted to bow to it in gratitude, then shot a doubtful look at Sugiyama, who was still busy working on the instrument. He didn’t know what the guard was doing, but he was forced to trust him.

‘Thanks to Miss Iwanami’s wonderful playing, we’ll be able to have piano accompaniment at all official events, including, of course, our weekly assemblies,’ Hasegawa announced.

Morioka didn’t answer right away. Hasegawa stared at him impatiently.

‘It would be a waste for this instrument and player to accompany the assemblies,’ Morioka said finally. ‘We need a bigger stage. What do you think about organizing a larger concert?’

Though slightly taken aback, Hasegawa nodded eagerly. ‘You are entirely correct, of course, but this is a prison and we don’t have the time for practices—’

Morioka gently cut him off. ‘Actually, the fact that this is a prison makes this the ideal venue. What if we had a concert for peace, direct from a criminals’ den? We will be coaxing beautiful music out of a desolate place. We could invite a famous singer from Tokyo as well as high-level officials, both Japanese and international. What do you think?’

Hasegawa’s eyes glimmered at the thought of being part of this ambitious project. ‘You have an outstanding artistic vision, Director!’ he cried. ‘But would a famous singer come here?’

Morioka walked over to the piano. Hasegawa followed him awkwardly. ‘You know the singer Professor Marui, right? He is a supporter of Miss Iwanami and offered to help her study in Tokyo.’ He turned to look at Midori. ‘Miss Iwanami! Brief the warden about the plans for Fukuoka Prison’s peace concert. It’s ultimately his decision.’

Midori stood up. ‘Sugiyama- san did his best, but he couldn’t find all the tuning tools and parts in town. That’s when I thought of Professor Marui. I thought he might be able to help us. I know I may have overstepped my place, but I sent a letter asking him for tools and new parts to revitalize the prison’s old piano.’

‘And?’ Hasegawa cut in impatiently. ‘What happened? Did Professor Marui reply?’

She nodded. ‘Yes. From Tokyo we received a tool set, parts and new strings. I wrote back that once the piano was tuned, I would be honoured to accompany his rendition of Die Winterreise . He thought it was a wonderful idea.’

Hasegawa couldn’t believe his ears. The foremost singer in Japan would perform in his prison! A smile began to form on his face. An International Peace Concert at Fukuoka Prison — the benefits of a good press would be incalculable. The music would float out from behind bars and reach a nation exhausted from war and austerity. Hosting such a meaningful event meant that he could invite high-level officials of the central government, including the commanders of the army, navy and air force, and military Diet members. This might help him get a job at the Interior Ministry. Soldiers ruled during wartime, but afterwards it would be the bureaucrats’ era. This concert could deliver him to the core of power. Hasegawa clenched his teeth with determination. ‘We must begin to practise immediately.’

Midori finished her story and started to play. As her fingers sprang across the keys, the keys pushed up the hammers, the hammers pounded the strings, and the strings trembled and vibrated. One note led to another and seeped into the dark, dry air. I felt my despair lifting; from within me bubbled hope for life, making me want to hold someone’s hand and fall in love.

I started to sing along: ‘Carry me back to old Virginny. ’ My heart hammered, a clamour in the calm. It was enough to make me want to hope, even in these turbulent times.

After she finished playing I asked, ‘Why would Sugiyama have the lyrics of Die Winterreise ?’ I was afraid to hear the reason, but I had to know.

She swept up a strand of hair. ‘He always kept poems in his shirt pocket. He loved poetry and gave everything to it.’

Untuned strings roared dissonantly in my heart. He loved poetry? He, who callously destroyed books? The face of the young poet hovered in front of my eyes. Hiranuma. He must know something. Maybe he knew everything.

According to the incineration log, Hiranuma Tochu’s documents were burned on 2 April 1944, immediately after he arrived at Fukuoka Prison. On the log were the names of unfamiliar Korean authors written in Chinese characters — Kim Yeong-rang, Baek Seok, Yi Sang, Jeong Ji-yong. Next to them were titles of books, a mixture of Chinese characters and katakana. Poetry of Yeong-rang, Poetry of Jeong Ji-yong . Most were volumes of poetry, but there were also copies of a Korean magazine called Sentences and books in English. The next incineration date was 3 April 1944. Sugiyama had written down all the names of the burned poems in his cramped hand.

1. Prologue

2. Until Dawn Comes

3. Cross

4. Another Home

5. Night Counting Stars

The numbers went up to nineteen. In the notes column he had written: ‘19 poems, to be included in the unpublished

The Sky, the Wind, the Stars and Poetry ’. Under that were the numbers twenty to twenty-nine. In the notes column was the following: ‘According to Detective Koroki, the prisoner translated the poems into Japanese at Shimogamo Police Station in Kyoto.’ So Hiranuma had been arrested and brought to Shimogamo Police Station in Kyoto. The arresting officers confiscated dozens of seditious books and poems, and made Hiranuma translate his poems into Japanese. And of fifty or so poems, nineteen had been intended for inclusion in an unpublished book of poetry. The remaining poems seemed to have been written in Tokyo and Kyoto.

Sugiyama Dozan and Hiranuma Tochu. Sugiyama the censor ruined Hiranuma the poet, and Hiranuma hated Sugiyama for it. They were in stark contrast to each other — one was the shadow and the other the light. But they were linked by poetry. So why did Sugiyama have poems in his pocket and desk drawer? What role did poetry have in their relationship? To find out I had to interrogate Hiranuma.