Page 56 of Daikon

THIRTY-TWO

KEIZO KAN AND PETTY OFFICER Yagi left the truck at Ikebukuro Station, in a market on a street behind what was left of the station building.

It wasn’t much of a market, just a few grim vendors selling off the last of their household possessions to buy food.

But it was still early, seven o’clock in the morning. Soon there would be more.

The appearance of the truck caused a flurry of excitement, people flocking around it to buy the cabbages off the back.

The driver and his wife and daughter squatted on the pile, snatching money and doling out the precious cargo.

Yagi had already secured six heads with the money he had in his pocket.

They proceeded northeast, Kan’s legs working again after the rest in the truck.

There was something strange in the air, a tightness in the faces of people passing by, but it did not register in the front of his brain.

He was too worried about being arrested.

He shot wary glances at every soldier and policeman he saw, but they seemed oblivious to his presence.

Gradually he began to relax. They continued on, past Sugamo Prison, then turned east under the elevated tracks of the Yamanote Line.

They had not gone more than a kilometer when Kan began to stagger with fatigue. He was sweating heavily and wincing as he cradled his injured right hand, the pain now almost more than he could endure.

He stumbled. They stopped and sat down to rest, Yagi placing his bundle of cabbages between his feet.

He broke off two leaves, handed one to Kan and started gnawing on the other.

As he ate, Kan stared at what was left of a bank across the street, the concrete shell still standing but completely burned out.

Nothing remained of the wooden structures that had existed on either side of it, just piles of charred sticks.

It was the same in every direction, as if a giant had stomped Tokyo flat and set fire to the wreckage.

“Where did you get those cabbages?” A passing woman had stopped, her eyes on Yagi’s bundle.

Yagi jerked his thumb up the road. “Back there. Behind Ikebukuro Station.” Then, when the woman started off in a hurry: “Don’t bother. They’d all be gone now.”

The woman turned back, disappointed. Her eyes returned to Yagi’s precious bundle.

“Would you sell me one of those?”

Yagi shrugged. “Maybe. Depends.”

The spirited haggling that followed attracted others.

In just a few minutes Yagi had sold all the cabbages for nearly three times what he had paid.

He chuckled with satisfaction as he stowed the proceeds and resumed gnawing on a leaf.

A generous handful had somehow ended up hidden under his shirt, enough to keep him and Kan going all day.

“All set?”

Yagi helped Kan to his feet and they again started off, Kan hanging on to the navy man’s shoulder now for support.

He stopped.

“It’s not much farther,” he said. “I’ll be all right from here. You don’t need to come.”

Yagi lowered his head and didn’t reply.

“It could be dangerous,” Kan pressed. “There’s no need for you to involve yourself in my trouble.”

Yagi looked around at the wasteland of the city. His own city, Osaka, which he had not visited in three years, would be in a similar state. He scratched his head, looking almost sheepish.

“I’ll tell you what it is,” he said. “Right now, I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

They continued east, walking in the shade under the Yamanote Line’s elevated tracks, then turned south.

They were close now. Kan knew this neighborhood well.

He had strolled here many times while working at the Riken, taking a little exercise while he mulled over a problem.

Now he was struggling just to stay on his feet.

The familiar street, heaps of rubble lining the sides, derelict streetcar tracks down the middle. The remains of the dispensary operated by the friendly old couple, now dead. The cemetery on the right, graves untended. Then a final turn and there it was: the Riken.

The sight of it gave Kan a burst of energy to walk on his own.

He led the way to the entrance and looked in from behind the gatepost. No vehicles, civilian or military, were visible inside.

No soldiers or police appeared to be waiting to arrest them.

The place was just as he had left it, forlorn and abandoned, a lifetime ago.

“?‘Institute of Physical and Chemical Research,’?” murmured Yagi, reading the sign affixed to the gatepost.

They passed inside and turned right to skirt around behind Building 43, gutted but still standing. Kan was not sure what he was trying to avoid, but it seemed a good idea to stay out of sight.

They passed the razed foundation of Building 49, the former home of Project Ni-Go, the neglected plot of sweet potatoes a riot of green in the ashes.

He could see Building 29 now on the far side of the compound, one of the few structures that had escaped the flames in the spring.

Should he head there, to Dr. Nishina’s office? No, he would go to the dormitory first.

The dormitory building, like the rest of the Riken, was deserted. Kan paused at the door and looked about. Where could Noriko be? Yagi, spotting a laundry area behind the building, skirted around back for a quick wash.

Kan headed inside. He went down the corridor, stirring motes of dust that hung in the air. The door to his room was unlocked. And inside…

He scanned the room. A pang hit him when his eyes touched on the urn. Aiko’s remains. The space appeared tidier than he had left it. The bedding in the corner was neatly folded, pillow on top.

With rising excitement, he went to the dresser and opened the drawer where Noriko kept her few items of apparel, not much more than one change of clothing.

It was empty. Noriko had been here. She had changed into clean clothes.

He staggered from the room and down the hall to the toilet. Noriko wasn’t there.

He heard voices. He hurried to the back door and threw it open. Yagi was standing there, conversing with a woman who had been washing clothes in a basin, her bare arms wet, her hair pulled back to reveal a gaunt face, which she was now hiding behind her hands as she burst into tears.

“Noriko!”

Kan stumbled down the steps and threw himself into his wife’s arms and together they wept.

“You made it back,” he sobbed. “You made it back. That’s wonderful. I’m happy.”

They clung to each other for several minutes, crying.

To give them a little privacy, Yagi turned away and began noisily washing himself.

When they finally let go, it was to examine each other with tender concern, stroking their faces and shoulders, touching hair, touching hands.

Keizo was gutted to see Noriko so thin, just as Noriko was dismayed by his haggard appearance and the condition of his hand.

“What happened to you, husband?” she asked.

Keizo tried to smile. “I had a little accident. It’s all right.”

Yagi, ablutions finished, was beside them, drying himself with his shirt.

“This is Petty Officer Ryohei Yagi,” said Keizo, wiping his eyes. “A friend of mine. Yagi-heisō, this is my wife, Noriko Kan.”

Noriko smiled. It lifted Kan’s heart even further to see it. “Yes, we just met,” she said, giving Yagi a bow. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

Yagi bobbed his head as he finished toweling himself. “Likewise.”

Noriko turned back to Keizo. “Shall we go to see Dr. Nishina and Miss Yokoyama? They’ve been so anxious about you.”

They headed around to the front of the dormitory building, arm in arm, Yagi holding back as he put on his wet shirt. The drone of an airplane rose in the distance.

They froze.

An olive drab army truck was parked across the compound. A soldier was entering Building 29. He was facing away. He hadn’t seen them.

They ducked back behind the dormitory, out of sight, and began to retreat.

“Stop!”

They wheeled about. A second soldier had stepped out from the front corner of the dormitory, holding a rifle. He was wearing a white armband with two characters printed on it in red: Kem Pei . Military Police.

“Are you Keizo Kan?” he said, slowly approaching.

Keizo, overcome with fear, didn’t answer. He and Noriko clung together as they backed away.

“I said stop!”

They stopped.

The drone of the approaching aircraft grew louder.

The soldier drew nearer, aiming his rifle at their chests. “Are you Keizo Kan?”

Keizo felt his knees go weak. “I am,” he stammered.

The sound of aircraft engines rose to an intense reverberation. The kempei soldier looked up. A large bomber, painted black, was passing overhead.

He collapsed to the ground, felled by a massive blow to the head by Yagi, who had circled around the other side of the building and come up from behind.

Yagi snatched up the rifle and stood over the body, ready to use the stock as a club. But there was no need. The man was unconscious.

A glance over his shoulder. No sign of the second soldier. And the army truck was out of sight, screened by the corner of the building.

He looked at Keizo and Noriko, wide-eyed with shock.

He cast the rifle away and seized them by the arms.

They started to run.