Tokyo Damage Report

SEVENTEEN, part seven



And with that, the music came on – ferocious, hateful, and at a volume that threatened to break the speakers, it reverberated throughout the entire city. “We must kill them to save our own lives! It’s the only righteous thing to do!” We shouted as we stood to applaud. From the stage, the demo’s leaders spurred on our hysterics, until we felt as if we had been in a dark, deep tunnel, until Sakagibara had emerged – a Golden Man – lighting the way with his golden radiance, to save us. Our applause and shouts were echoed by our brothers, lending us more strength. We are righteous! This is righteous! To avenge the dreadful things they’ve done to our souls, this is righteous!
“Look at those ‘uyoku’ guys. They’re starting ‘em young, aren’t they?” “Looks like they’re doing it for the money.”
I whirled round furiously to see who was mocking us, and saw three office ladies, who flinched under my gaze. Ah, so! I’m considered a real right-wing militia guy, eh? My body suddenly swelled with pride and joy. I finally knew who I was. A rightist. I took one step towards the girls, and they shrank back in fear, raising their small voices in protest. In front of everyone, I boldly walked forward. The girls and the men surrounding us looked at me with hatred but no one dared to say anything. Everyone is looking at me, because I’m a real rightist! And even though they stare, I do not feel flustered, nor do I blush. It’s as if I’m becoming a new person.
I’m an adult now – able to stand up on the same Earth as everyone else, and look them in the eye, and demand respect. I’ve found some hard, hard armor I can wrap around my weak and petty self, forever. The normal people will never see the real me hidden safe inside the armor – the armor of uyoku! And what is more, I can scare office ladies so bad, that their legs become paralyzed and they can’t even run away from me.  I could practically hear the pounding of their hearts, feel the hotness of their blood, see their fear changing to sexual desire! And I took an extreme spiritual pleasure in this. I bellowed at them, “What do you know about uyoku? Hey, do you think you’re better than us, you whores?” The girls ran off into the crowd, weeping under the darkening evening skies. The men around me muttered angrily but at the same time they tried to hide their anger. I could see they were afraid of me. The normals were finally afraid of me!  I had successfully put an end to the ‘calling-them-some-whores’ scandal. Just then, I felt a muscular hand clap me forcefully on the shoulder. I turned and saw the kindly faces of members from the Imperial Way Faction, wearing their festive armbands.
As I looked at these older men, I was overcome with emotion. We had the same blood running in our veins, the blood of Yamato. Even though I was just a little boy, the man who had given such a violent, hateful speech spoke to me with a kind chuckle: “Thank you! You young patriotic men are the essence of valor! The stout-hearted Japanese youth who love His Majesty The Emperor. You have real Japanese spirits, so I feel you have been chosen for this duty!”
The voice revelation had spoken! Combined with the din of the city – the screeching trains, blaring loudspeakers, the babble of passerby – it overpowered my senses. I relapsed into hysteria. My eyes blurred and I witnessed a beautiful, benevolent vision: The evening city was sinking into a murky swamp of darkness, and then , just when all was lost – like a brilliant light cleansing a vulgar brownish-yellow stain, the rays of the sun manifested, their brilliant radiance burning away the swamp. The sun took the form of a Golden Man: His Majesty The Emperor. You’ve been chosen because of your valiant spirit, to protect His Majesty, I thought to myself. You are the future of Japan. You are the young man who has been chosen for his true Japanese spirit.

Allright, people. Next time : the whole chapter 4 – that is to say, the rest of the story.

After that – there's a whole sequel that I haven't even started to translate.

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  1. EstherHawdon August 1st, 2010 3:17 am

    a young man easily converted from communism…this represents uncertainty of the age he (and the author) survived and also uncertainty of his being.

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