Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Several years ago—to be precise, on a summer day in 19-- around 8:00 PM—a tall man wearing a pola cloth jacket (a breathable high-quality fabric), thin serge trousers (lightweight material), and a new Panama hat, his face concealed by a mask, wandered into a sixth-floor room of the Tokiwa Building in Ginza’s Third District.

The sun had long since sunk below the horizon, and it was that hour when mobo (Modern Boys) and moga (Modern Girls) engaged in Ginza strolls were savoring their purposeless nocturnal wanderings beneath gaudy electric lights.

He entered the room and immediately took out a flashlight from his pocket, carefully inspecting the interior. What a shabby sight this room presented, considering it was part of a grand building towering at the heart of bustling Greater Tokyo. It was a prosaic—uninteresting, dreary—sight, as if it were a hastily set-up election office for a prefectural assembly member.

In the center of the room stood a large round table, bare, with five crude chairs arranged around it. On the table was only a desk lamp with its shade pulled low and an ashtray equipped with matches. By the window facing the street, slightly to the left, there was a writing desk, and on it were placed an ink bottle and a pen. In front of the desk was a swivel chair. Other than that, there was only a side table and a wastebasket lying about—this was all the furnishings in the room.

The masked man finished swiftly inspecting the room, then plucked a scrap of paper from his pocket, stuffed it into the door’s keyhole, slowly approached the table, twisted the desk lamp’s switch, and turned off the flashlight before tucking it into his pocket.
A five-candlepower lamp bloomed in the spacious room.
Three shaku away, it was too dim to read even a newspaper.
With shades drawn over the windows and keyholes plugged shut, no light escaped outside at all.

The man thudded down into a chair and checked his wristwatch.

A minute passed.

A faint knocking—so quiet one had to strain to hear it—sounded at the door, and the second man entered, also wearing a mask.
This man wore a pure white linen suit and immaculately polished white shoes.
Neither of them exchanged a single word, as if they were complete strangers, and they barely even glanced at each other.
The second man sat down in the chair facing the first man.
The two men checked their wristwatches almost simultaneously in silence.

Thirty seconds passed.

Another knock sounded at the door, and a third masked man entered.
This man wore a black alpaca (a lightweight fabric) jacket, striped serge trousers, and a straw hat.
He too sat down in the third chair without uttering a word.

For several seconds, the air in the room hung oppressively heavy.

Abruptly, the first man stood up.

“I am No.30.”
He said in English.

“No.76.”
The second man continued.

“No.224.”
The third man spoke in the same manner.

“Now then, gentlemen—today, a grave order from the Central Executive Committee has been issued to you,” said the first man in a voice faintly tinged with a tremor, standing stiff as a rod.
“The mission entrusted to you is extremely difficult and entails the utmost danger.”
“Moreover, you have only half a day left to prepare—but of course, I trust you will gladly undertake this mission.”

“Of course,” they answered in unison.

“Tomorrow morning at 10 AM, East Asia Bureau Director Toyama Hikotaro will depart the Kasumigaseki East Asia Bureau in Automobile No.96, pass through Sakuradamon Gate, and head toward Tokyo Station.”
Along that route—
He lowered his voice and whispered.

“The mission assigned to you is to assassinate him—”

The end of his words trembled terribly.
The two listeners fidgeted restlessly.

“For what reason?” No.76 countered.

“The reason is unknown even to myself—and even if it were known, there would be no need to tell you, nor do you have any need to know.”
“The Central Committee’s orders are absolute.”
“You gentlemen need only carry them out.”
“You do not have the authority to deliberate on the Central Committee’s orders.”
“I presume you are already fully aware of this matter—”

“But in such an important matter—”

“Even whether it is important or not is something you should not be permitted to know.”
“You need only consider the means to fully carry out the orders you’ve been given.”

No.76 fell silent.

“Very well—I swear to carry it out!”
After a moment, he said in an anguished voice.

“What about No.224?”
No.30 asked gravely.

“Of course I have no objections.”

“Then,” said No.30, slightly changing his tone of voice.
“As you are aware, our organization encompasses the most capable men and women from every class, every social stratum, every profession, and every age group. Therefore, you may report as many individuals as necessary to headquarters and utilize them for your objectives.”
“However, those formalities must be completed by 11 PM tonight.”
“By then, if you devise a sufficiently concrete plan and report it to headquarters, your mission will be complete.”
“Those who will directly carry out the operation will be selected by headquarters.”
“My task will be complete once I have reported this to you gentlemen.”

No sooner had he spoken than No.30 stood up and walked toward the door.

He turned back while gripping the doorknob and added.

“Then, tonight at exactly eleven o’clock.”
“I will arrive here precisely at eleven, so I expect you to have a fully detailed plan prepared by then.”

II

Afterwards, two masked men remained.
Two men—neither knowing the other’s face, nor name, nor even a rough estimate of age—were now conspiring about a fearsome joint enterprise solely through their Justice Party member numbers.

Moreover, the two also needed to remain thoroughly wary of each other.
This was because not only had rumors recently spread that spies had infiltrated the Party, but there had also been frequent instances where the Party’s plans were exposed beforehand.

Not only were the two still suspecting each other of being spies, but they were even gripped by the suspicion that No.30—who had just delivered that preposterous order from the Central Committee members and left—might himself be a spy. When eleven o'clock came, the thought arose unbidden in both their minds that instead of No.30 returning alone, a squad of police officers might surround this building. Yet whatever suspicions emerged, the two had no choice but to execute headquarters' orders like clockwork cogs. For while party members knew nothing—not even about fellow members or the location of headquarters—the Central Committee members perceived every movement of all members nationwide as clearly as if holding them in their palms, with any disobedience punished by instant death.

“No.76!” No.224 said in a low voice after a moment. “You’ve been acting terribly twitchy since earlier. This order to assassinate the East Asia Bureau Director seems to have given you quite a shock. Are you all right?”

An eerie silence nodded through the room.
The five-candlepower lamp seemed to gradually grow dimmer.

“To tell the truth, I was surprised by this order,” No.76 said after a moment.
“As an individual, I oppose such drastic measures.”
“But I am well aware that for party members, the Central Committee’s orders hold the same power as universal gravitation.”
“Listen well—if I were thrown from a tower, whether I will it or not, I would have no choice but to fall.”
“My will possesses not a shred of power to halt my body’s fall—”

“I understand.”
“By the way—do you have a concrete plan?”

“Of course, the moment I heard the order from No.30, I had already formed a clear picture of the means to carry it out.”
“Well, come a little closer over here!”

He brought his mouth close to No.224’s ear and whispered something in a hushed tone.

No.224 gave a deep nod when he finished listening.

“That’s a brilliant plan,” he exclaimed in a low voice.
“To be honest, I did accept the task, but I haven’t the faintest idea how to proceed.”

“Then our meeting is concluded, provided you have no objections,” said No.76 while checking his wristwatch. “Only fifteen minutes have passed. The two-hour grace period was too long.”

“But I can’t exactly go out for fun either. Might as well smoke a cigarette.”

The two men took out cigarettes and lit them. An oppressive silence hung heavily.

“Hey, you,” No.76 broke the silence. “I find this order from the Central Committee members utterly unconscionable. To dare employ violence to kill an individual not only violates our Party’s glorious tradition but also runs counter to the principles of human justice...”

“Are you suggesting we criticize the Central Committee’s order?...”

“That’s right. But I will absolutely obey the order. If criticism premised on obedience exists, shouldn’t it be permitted? Won’t you even grant us that much freedom? Will you content yourself with being mere machinery?”

“Naturally, the word ‘freedom’ cannot exist in the dictionary of us Party members. That petty word ‘freedom’ which just left your lips—who knows how often our Party’s history has been stained with futile blood because of it? For the sake of the Party’s Iron Discipline, we must become perfect machines. And even speaking of machines—not one of us is a complete machine, but merely component parts. Only when assembled into a single mechanism by the Central Executive Committee can we begin functioning. Our Party’s organization is society’s perfect prototype, where the most rigorous division and cooperation of labor occurs. We need only execute one command. We are links in a chain. A chain obeys its wielder’s will—not its own will. A link requires neither will nor freedom. There exists only absolute obedience!”

“Enough with that obvious lecture already. Or else I’ll start looking down on you.”
“In fact, I might already be looking down on you.”
“And what’s more, by doing so, I’m proving that I completely possess the freedom to look down on you.”

“Sophistry!”
“Then are you saying you’ll do something about it?”

“I intend to urge the Central Executive Committee to reflect.”
“I demand that a provision be inserted into the Party’s discipline stating that under no circumstances can an individual be killed.”

“The Central Executive Committee will respond with your immediate death.”

“I will fulfill my purpose through my own death.”

A low, monstrous laugh escaped No.224’s lips.

The two men fell silent again.
For nearly twenty minutes, an oppressive silence persisted.
During that time, the street noise could be heard as clearly as if one could reach out and grasp it.

“You still seem to be under forty, huh. One can tell from the sheen of your forehead, the roundness of your hands, and the elasticity of your entire body,” said No.224, breaking the long silence.

“I was just thinking about something like this—suppose we were friends working side by side at an office during daylight hours, only to become strangers at night meeting with no individuality beyond our numbers. Even knowing each other intimately yet being forced to interact as mere acquaintances—how utterly absurd that would feel.”

“I,” No.76 replied.
“I was imagining an even more extreme scenario.”
“What if the Central Committee Chairman were my father or something?”
“Or what if the very target I was ordered to assassinate turned out to be my brother or my wife?”
“I shuddered at the thought.”
“Because those things could actually happen.”
“Suppose the target you must kill turns out to be your lover’s father—what would you do then?”
“Of course, this assumes you’re a young man who knows love.”
“In that case, would you obey the Central Committee’s orders or follow your instinctive sense of justice?”

No.224 glared sharply at the other man through his mask.

“Such a thing cannot possibly exist.”

“No—it’s entirely possible! In fact—”
He suddenly remembered something and clamped his mouth shut.

As the two men continued their conversation in mostly silent intervals—occasionally resuming as if reminded—the time ticked steadily toward eleven o'clock.

Exactly two minutes before eleven o'clock, the sound of footsteps quietly ascending the stairs could be heard.
The two men strained their ears.
The footsteps came to an abrupt halt before their room.
Then a faint knock sounded.
This knock was of course a distinctive one established among party members, allowing immediate identification of whether the visitor belonged to their ranks.

No.224 stood up, went to the door, removed a slip of paper from the keyhole, inserted the key, and turned it.

A masked giant entered.

“No.30,” he said mechanically.

“No.224.” “No.76.”
The two men stood up and responded in turn.
Exchanging numbers served as both a greeting and a password among party members.

The three men sat down in their chairs simultaneously.
Three heads drew together to within about four inches of each other.
No.76 began to speak in a voice so low it was nearly inaudible.
No.30 listened, nodding occasionally.
The report concluded in five or six minutes.
No.30 stood up with a satisfied expression, and without offering a greeting, put on his hat and walked toward the door.

“Wait,” called out No.224. He stood up, stomped heavily over to No.30, brought his mouth close to the man’s ear, and whispered a few words. No.30 turned around and glared sharply at No.76. He then spun about abruptly and left without another word.

The two men who remained behind continued watching the clock in stone-like silence. Five minutes passed, and No.76 silently stood up, put on his hat, and left.

After another five minutes passed, No.224 also turned off the lamp and left.

Thus, the masked men's strange meeting was adjourned.

III

Around nine o'clock the following morning, in a room at the East Asia Bureau in Kasumigaseki, Secretary Tsuyuki sorted through letters delivered on the morning's first dispatch. Among them lay a single green envelope bearing no sender's name. He tore open the seal with visible irritation. Instantly, his complexion drained to ash-white.

“Is there something unusual?”

Before he knew it, East Asia Bureau Director Toyama Hikotaro, Your Excellency, who had come up behind him and stood there, spoke while removing the cigar from his mouth. He seemed to be in an unusually good mood this morning.

“Good morning, Your Excellency.”
Tsuyuki set down the letter and said hurriedly.
“A strange letter has arrived.”

“Let me see.”
The East Asia Bureau Director reinserted the cigar and casually reached out.

“East Asia Bureau Director Toyama Hikotaro, Your Excellency,” he began reading.
“We of the Justice Party trust Your Excellency recalls our two recent final warnings urging reform of your so-called ‘proactive diplomacy’ toward × Country.”
“However, your speech today at the Bankers’ Club demonstrates that your foreign policy remains entrenched in obsolete conventions—not only failing to show the slightest effort toward mitigating the war crisis with × Country, but actively seeking to hurl the entire world into a maelstrom of fierce arms competition.”
“Therefore, in the name of the nation and global justice, we must reluctantly administer divine punishment upon Your Excellency.”
“Our party has formally resolved this matter through the Central Executive Committee.”
“We hereby declare our intention to execute this resolution in the very near future.”
“In closing, may Your Excellency remember that our party’s resolutions have never gone unfulfilled.”
“Great Japan Justice Party Central Executive Committee”

“The Great Japan Justice Party again? This is nothing but a child’s fairy tale,” the East Asia Bureau Director said with amusement. “Probably some heat-addled fool’s handiwork in this weather. Yesterday’s paper had a story about a man who barged into a house shouting ‘This is my home now—get out!’ Apparently his nervous system had fried from the heat. When the climate goes berserk, so do people’s brains. We should just ignore this lunatic’s letter. Hahaha!”

He flipped the letter over the secretary’s shoulder onto the desk.

“But that’s not the case, Your Excellency,” Tsuyuki said earnestly. “Both the Metropolitan Police Department and the Prosecutor’s Office have been struggling with the Justice Party’s activities for the past year.” “Some theories estimate around eight thousand members, while others claim as many as a hundred thousand. Regardless, it is an undeniable fact that their numbers have reached an enormous scale, and they have infiltrated every sector of society.” “It’s possible that two or three party members may have infiltrated this bureau as well.” “And the party has what they call ‘Iron Discipline’—a system ensuring that even if any member gets captured, it absolutely won’t lead to others, isn’t that what they say?” “It is said that up until now, only one person has been captured by the Metropolitan Police Department. However, even though that individual confessed to being a Great Japan Justice Party member—so-and-so—no matter how they changed their methods and pressed for a confession, he hasn’t said another word.” “After all, they say there’s nothing like this flawless organization anywhere in the world.” “I think you must never let your guard down.”

“Ha ha ha,” the East Asia Bureau Director laughed heartily.

“You really are a gullible man.”
“Not making you a monk and taking you on as a petty official might have been my blunder.”
“By the way, do you know of a novelist called Anatole France (1844–1924)?”
“In that man’s novels, there’s a short story called ‘Putois.’”
“It’s about how everyone ends up turning Putois—this fictional human—into a real person and fearing him.”
“This hypothetical person keeps popping up everywhere, you see.”
“Whether in the parlors of wealthy homes or the kitchens of tenements in the outskirts.”
“And everything ends up being blamed on Putois.”
“What you just said about the Justice Party sounds just like a fairy tale too, ha ha ha—”

At that moment, the desk telephone rang.
Tsuyuki picked up the receiver and held it to his ear.

“Ah, yes. Ah, that’s correct. Then, please wait a moment.”

He pressed his hand over the mouthpiece and turned to look at the Director.

“There is a call from the Police Commissioner.”
“He wishes to speak directly with Your Excellency, so…”

The Director remained standing, bent his upper body, and while propping his cheek on the desk with one hand, took the receiver with his other hand.

“Hello, hello—this is Toyama… Hmm… Hmm… I see, today, you say? No idea where or how, then? Actually, we’ve also received a threatening letter here—just finished reading it myself.”
“It’s just a prank threat.”
“What could they possibly do? How on earth did your side come to know about that?”
“Hmm… Well—according to a report from a spy dispatched to the Justice Party’s headquarters… So it does exist after all… Hmm… No—it’s nothing that requires concern.”
“Hmm… How strange—to have a spy infiltrate their headquarters yet not know its location… What… Your side too? From them?”
“In other words, they’re saying that spies from the Justice Party have also infiltrated the Metropolitan Police Department, so every single one of their operational policies gets leaked to them… I can hardly believe it… Hmm… No—thank you kindly. Goodbye.”

“What utter nonsense,” he said while replacing the receiver.
“Even the Metropolitan Police Department haunted by Justice Party phantoms?”

Secretary Tsuyuki looked up at the Director with a concerned expression and opened his mouth to speak, but the Director abruptly cut him off after checking the wall clock.

“Well then, we must prepare ourselves. The Prime Minister arrives at Tokyo Station at 10:30 sharp, yes?”
“You’re accompanying me.”
“It’s already past nine-thirty—we haven’t a moment to lose.”

When the East Asia Bureau Director placed his hand on the door and tried to pull it open, the door swung open automatically, bringing him face to face with an attendant at the entrance. The attendant hastily bowed and extended a tray bearing a business card. The Director glanced at the card resting on the tray without taking it,

"What, my son? Tell him I'm busy now—we'll meet later this afternoon."

"But I already informed him you were about to depart, sir. He insists it's an urgent matter requiring just one minute of your time."

“What a hopeless fellow. Just the other day, he showed up during a dizzyingly busy time asking me to tell him the name of the King of Afghanistan. Well, tell him to come here right away.”

“Yes, sir!”

As the attendant went out, in came Toyama Katsuo wearing a white linen suit and white shoes.
He was the second son of the East Asia Bureau Director, a serious and cheerful young man who had been working in the Information Department for the past year.

“Yesterday’s game against the Press Club wasn’t up to snuff, was it?”
When he saw his son’s face, he suddenly spoke in a cheerful tone.
“Your pitching like that is no good.”
“Was there no one else?”
“You issued sixteen walks.”
“Your curveball isn’t going in at all—since it’s a full six inches off the plate, no matter how much the umpire pities you, that’ll never be a strike…”

While claiming to be busy, the Director started casually talking about baseball at length—so much so that Katsuo grew anxious.

"Actually, Father, I left something important at home. Could I borrow a car?"

"That won't do. At the Bureau, you're not my son but a mere subordinate official."
"I can't let a subordinate use the Director's car."
"If you're in a hurry, call a taxi."

“I just want to ride in the Director’s vehicle once in my life.”
“If you could just pretend it’s for an official errand of yours, Father, that should be acceptable, shouldn’t it?”

The Director seemed pleased with this answer. He paused briefly before bursting into laughter and said—

“You’re a hopeless fellow. Then go take Number 2018.”
“That’s the latest Hoitsu Pet model.”
“Number 96 is out of the question.”
“I must be off soon myself—gotta go meet the Prime Minister at Tokyo Station, you see.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you.”

Katsuo left in a great hurry.

The Director stretched grandly, turned to Secretary Tsuyuki, and said:

"Well then—you—we must depart immediately."

Four

Around 9:40 AM, on the roadway slightly closer to the General Staff Office from the Sakuradamon Gate streetcar stop, a freight truck loaded with empty beer bottles piled like a mountain had come to a stop, seemingly having broken down somewhere.
The driver got out of the vehicle and, tilting his head slightly, peered under the chassis and tapped the tires as if trying to identify the malfunctioning part—all while exchanging furtive glances.

The traffic policeman, growing impatient with this, clicked his tongue while continuously glaring and signaling at the driver.

About ten minutes later, Automobile No.96 slid out through the East Asia Bureau’s gate.

The traffic policeman suddenly shouted "Hey!" at the freight truck driver in an unmistakably irritated manner.
Then the driver, startled, leaped into the driver’s seat like a spring-loaded doll, grasped the steering wheel, and released the brake.
The vehicle gradually began to move.

Automobile No.96 arrived at the Sakuradamon Gate streetcar stop at that exact moment.
Then the freight truck suddenly accelerated to full speed and began speeding—just as No.96 was curving toward Hibiya, its body tilting diagonally—colliding with No.96’s vehicle like a bullet.

The traffic policeman had no time to do anything.
He shouted “Look out!” and dashed forward as the freight truck began to speed away, but he could no longer stop the already accelerating vehicle.
Both drivers tried to apply the brakes and stop their vehicles just before the collision, but it was already too late.
No.96 capsized sideways.
The freight truck driver was flung into the street.

The traffic policeman hurried over and peered into No.96’s compartment. Then he frantically took out his whistle and blew it with all his might.

Before long, a dense, mountain-like crowd had formed around the area—passersby, those transferring trams, and others who had deliberately disembarked.

By the time a police squad arrived from Hibiya, clattering their sabers, three officers were kept busy for some time dispersing the crowd.

Amidst this commotion, Automobile No.2018, which had exited the East Asia Bureau’s gate, threaded its way through the crowd and sped off toward Tokyo Station.

The freight truck driver had sustained abrasions on the forehead and shin, sprained the fingertips of the left hand, and lay unconscious.
The driver of No.96 had jumped down from the driver’s seat only to be caught under the freight truck’s tire, sustaining severe injuries to the left leg and losing consciousness on the spot.

The one who had been riding in No.96 was not the East Asia Bureau Director and his secretary, but rather the Director’s second son, Katsuo.
It was later discovered that he had deliberately instructed the driver of No.96—under the pretense of acting on the Director’s orders—to take that specific vehicle when departing the East Asia Bureau.
Katsuo’s body showed no external injuries, but for some reason, he had lost consciousness entirely; moreover, unlike the other two, his face had turned deathly pale, and his lips had changed to purple.

The three injured individuals were immediately transported to Haraguchi Surgical Hospital in Hibiya.

The freight truck driver’s injuries were minor, requiring only two weeks for full recovery, so after having his limbs and head bandaged, he was able to leave the hospital; however, the driver of No.96 had to undergo major surgery to amputate his left leg.

And Toyama Katsuo ultimately never regained consciousness; by the time he was transported to the hospital, his body had already gone cold, leaving nothing that could be done—so the following day, he was transferred to the university hospital and subjected to an autopsy.

The results of Katsuo's postmortem examination and autopsy revealed startling facts.
Regarding the cause of death, opinions were divided between two theories: internal hemorrhage from a contusion at the rear of the frontal region and fatal asphyxiation due to strong compression of the throat. It remained undetermined which injury had been inflicted first, but it was concluded that someone had likely delivered a severe blow to the top of his head before immediately strangling his throat.
In other words, his death was not merely an accidental fatality from an automobile collision but a clear homicide—a conclusion unanimously held by all police doctors who examined the body and physicians present at the autopsy.

Moreover, almost simultaneously with the autopsy results becoming known, an express mail corroborating the physicians' conclusions arrived addressed to the Police Commissioner.

Our Party, having learned through comrades' reports that Party Member No.76 Toyama Katsuo—who had received from the Central Executive Committee the order to assassinate East Asia Bureau Director Toyama Hikotaro—had become emotionally conflicted due to filial affection, hereby has the honor to report to Your Excellency that although there were those who could not help but sympathize with his inner turmoil, the Party’s discipline cannot be bent for personal matters; thus, with tears in our eyes, we first condemned him.
Toyama Katsuo, caught between filial affection and our Party’s Iron Discipline, discarded his own life to save his father—an act that rivals those of heroes throughout history.
He fulfilled both his duties as a Party member and as a human being, thereby surrendering his own life; though our Party condemned him under its regulations, we hereby pledge to grant the East Asia Bureau Director a one-week period of consideration in sympathy for his noble sentiments.
If no changes are observed in diplomatic policy within this period, we hereby vow to proceed with our second course of action.
Finally, we declare that determining how many individuals and by what means Toyama Katsuo was condemned lies utterly beyond the investigative capabilities of the police.
For this reason: the secrets of our Party are strictly guarded through death.
Therefore, we hereby advise that all futile investigations be abandoned.

Great Japan Justice Party

Central Executive Committee

Police Commissioner

Shimamura Rintaro, Your Excellency

Five

But the Metropolitan Police Department naturally disregarded the Justice Party's recommendation and launched an investigation into the culprit.
However, exactly as the Justice Party had cautioned, the Metropolitan Police Department's inquiry concluded in failure.

As for witnesses to this incident, there were only the two injured drivers and the traffic policeman; however, from their three testimonies, they could extract no evidence whatsoever to corroborate the physicians’ diagnosis.

The freight truck driver responded to police questioning roughly as follows:

“While transporting empty beer bottles from Ōkido in Yotsuya Ward to Shiodome Station, when I came near Sakuradamon around 9:30 AM, my truck appeared to have broken down and stopped moving, so I got out to inspect it.”

“I still had gasoline, and there was nothing wrong with the tires either, so thinking it strange, I was checking various things when the policeman kept glaring at me and urging me to hurry, which only made me more anxious, and I couldn’t figure out where the problem was.”

“Then suddenly, the policeman—well, given that it’s the intersection of three tram lines at Toranomon, Hanzōmon, and Hibiya—seemed to grow impatient and fly into a rage, shouting ‘Hey!’ out of nowhere. Startled, I climbed into the driver’s seat and grabbed the steering wheel, and strangely enough, the truck began to move.”

“So I thought if I kept dawdling I’d really get an earful, and when I sped off, I ended up colliding with Automobile No.96 coming from Toranomon.”

“In the heat of the moment, I couldn’t do anything.”

“After that, I didn’t notice anything at all until I was carried into the hospital.”

“My injuries aren’t serious, but I deeply apologize for causing such severe harm to the passenger and the driver.”

“But if the passenger was inside the compartment without any external injuries yet had their throat strangled or crown severely struck—and considering how little the vehicle was damaged—this must have been done intentionally by someone. I don’t believe it could possibly have been just a collision.”

The driver of No.96 responded to official police questioning roughly as follows.

“As Katsuo-sama stated it was Director Your Excellency’s urgent errand, I had him board [the vehicle], and while en route to Koishikawa and attempting to turn at Sakuradamon Gate, the freight truck suddenly came speeding and collided with us—there was no time for us to react.”

“After that, I have no recollection of what happened, but judging from the extent of the vehicle’s damage and considering both the location and nature of Katsuo-sama’s injuries, I do not believe such severe wounds could have resulted solely from that collision.”

“In such cases, the driver is always injured, but the passenger ordinarily escapes with mere grazes or minor scratches.”

The traffic policeman confirmed the testimonies of the two drivers and then appended his own opinion.

“Given these circumstances, I believe it is impossible to attribute fault to either party.”
“It was entirely an unavoidable accident.”
“It cannot be said that No.96 turning there was at fault, nor can it be said that the freight truck proceeding straight ahead was at fault.”
“Since that curve is a right-hand turn, it naturally becomes a large curve.”
“At that point, in the heat of the moment, both drivers appear to have misjudged their measurements.”
“It was a matter of just one second, but there was nothing that could be done about it.”
“When I arrived, the two drivers had already been thrown outside the vehicles.”
“The passenger in No.96 had drooped limply forward, pressed his forehead against the window, and lay facedown.”
“Before long, passersby began to gather, so I was desperately trying to block the crowd while blowing my whistle.”
“I never imagined that the passenger inside had already passed away at that time.”

Thus, this case concluded without discovering even a single investigative lead—if we accept the physicians' postmortem findings of homicide.

The following day, Traffic Policeman Fukai Asaji submitted his letter of resignation via registered mail to his local police station.
For traffic policemen—whose duties were already highly nerve-wracking—it was common after such incidents to become jumpy at even minor things and become unable to perform their duties; thus, his resignation was immediately accepted, and no one found it suspicious.

The Metropolitan Police Department decided to announce this incident as a mere traffic accident for the time being, and the East Asia Bureau Director did not take any legal procedures regarding his second son’s calamity.
“He was just unlucky,” he said resignedly.

Of course, it goes without saying that the vigor he had exhibited up until the previous day was no longer visible on his face.

Six

However, on the morning of the third day thereafter, a young detective from the investigation division named Umeda, who had been handling this case, came to the section chief’s office and submitted a document bound with two sheets of ruled paper as follows.

Investigation Findings

1. That Toyama Katsuo’s death was homicide has been made clear through the results of the postmortem examination and autopsy.

2. That the perpetrator was a member of the Great Japan Justice Party had been made nearly certain through a document sent from the Party’s Central Executive Committee to the Police Commissioner immediately following the incident.

3. That an empty beer bottle among those scattered at the scene was discovered bearing adhered hair; microscopic examination confirmed this hair to belong to the victim.

4. This empty bottle must be deemed to have first entered through the automobile window and struck the victim’s head before rolling back out through said window.

5. However, based on the vehicle’s structure, it was impossible for an empty bottle to freely enter or exit the automobile.

6. Therefore, this could not be considered as anything other than someone intentionally picking up a beer bottle, striking the victim’s head with it, and then discarding it.

7. The injuries resembling strangulation present on the victim’s throat could not possibly be believed to have naturally resulted from an automobile collision; there existed no possibility of sustaining such wounds within the vehicle’s interior. This must have been caused by someone—likely an individual with knowledge of judo—who first struck the head with a beer bottle before strangling the throat.

8. At the time of collision, those present at the scene were limited to the two drivers and Traffic Policeman Fukai.
Given that both drivers had been rendered unconscious immediately upon impact, among these three individuals only Traffic Policeman Fukai could have inflicted injuries upon the victim.
Furthermore, it was established that Fukai possessed third-dan judo proficiency.
He had furthermore confessed to rushing directly to the scene and peering into No.96's vehicle.
More than two minutes elapsed between his arrival at the scene and the gathering of bystanders—a duration sufficient to retrieve a beer bottle, strike the victim's head, and subsequently strangle him to death.

9. Therefore, it is inferred that the perpetrator is Traffic Policeman Fukai.

10. Furthermore, the freight truck driver is likely an accomplice.
The two had conspired in advance to make the driver appear to have a vehicle malfunction and await Fukai’s signal. The moment Fukai shouted “Hey!” as the signal, they would leap into the driver’s seat, begin driving, and charge toward Automobile No.96—risking their own lives in the collision—while Fukai immediately rushed to the scene to accomplish his objective.
Therefore, it is recognized that these two, both being Justice Party members, executed this crime according to a scenario that had been planned in advance.
When interpreted thus, the meaning of the document sent from the Justice Party’s Central Executive Committee to the Police Commissioner becomes self-evident.

Based on the above facts, I recommend that an immediate investigative policy be established.

When the Investigation Section Chief finished reading,

“I see,” he nodded deeply.
Beads of greasy sweat oozed on his forehead, and his complexion turned ashen.

“Then I must immediately arrest Fukai and the automobile driver.”
He stood up excitedly.

“But Chief, that Fukai bastard had already fled,” the detective said quietly.

“I reached this conclusion this morning and hurriedly conducted an internal investigation—Fukai disappeared somewhere since that day, and his whereabouts remain unknown to anyone.”
“We immediately contacted his registered domicile’s police department and are currently making inquiries.”

“What about the driver?”

“Just as I thought—no luck.”
“He apparently took leave and left the day before yesterday.”
“I believe this individual’s registered domicile and full name are suspect.”
“However, according to the auto shop owner’s account, that man was an honest sort who worked diligently.”
“Generally speaking, Justice Party members all hold occupations—utterly indistinguishable from ordinary people—and show exceptional diligence in their duties.”
“Yet among them runs this so-called Iron Discipline—staking their lives on missions and guarding secrets unto death.”
“They may be recalcitrant scum, but I must concede admiration on that count.”
At that moment, he glanced at the pillar clock and muttered:
“It’s already been four hours.”
“Given we sent an urgent report, a reply should’ve come by now.”

Indeed, before those words had finished, the attendant brought a telegram addressed to the Investigation Section.

“FUKAI ASAJI: THE INDIVIDUAL HAS NO REGISTERED ADDRESS.”

The section chief stood dumbfounded, passing the telegram to the detective.

“This falls precisely within expectations,” the detective stated without inflection.
“At any rate, it would be advisable for the Police Commissioner to persuade the East Asia Bureau Director to publicly retract the key points of his recent address.”
“However stringent our precautions next time, we cannot possibly safeguard the Director’s life—considering our adversary commands eight thousand devoted Justice Party operatives.”
“Moreover, since we remain ignorant of their infiltration depth—Chief, from my vantage you might be one of them, just as from yours I might appear suspect—we must maintain utmost vigilance.”

“Iron Discipline, indeed! Iron Discipline!”

The section chief let out a deep sigh.

＊ ＊ ＊

Afterward, it was said that the Justice Party’s plot to assassinate the East Asia Bureau Director had failed and all its members were arrested—yet claims of eight thousand or even one hundred thousand party members proved outlandish exaggerations, as the membership numbered a mere forty-nine.
Even so, it was said that experts were astonished at their cunning—how this band of forty-nine could send shockwaves through police circles nationwide, with one member even infiltrating the police force.