Authors: Yukio Mishima

Runaway Horses (54 page)

BOOK: Runaway Horses

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JUDGE
: He didn’t ask your name or address?

IZUTSU
: No, Your Honor. He didn’t ask me anything at all.

JUDGE
: What do you say, Mr. Honda? Do you wish to ask Iinuma or Izutsu any questions?

HONDA
: I’d like to question Izutsu, Your Honor.

JUDGE
: Very well.

HONDA
: When you went to sell the sword, had Iinuma told you that swords would be awkward for an assassination and that it was therefore necessary to exchange them for daggers?

IZUTSU
: Well, no, sir, he didn’t say it in so many words as I remember.

HONDA
: So he didn’t specify anything of the sort but merely told you to go and exchange the swords, and you went without knowing the purpose?

IZUTSU
: Well . . . yes, sir. But I certainly had a good idea of it. It seemed obvious.

HONDA
: Then it wasn’t a matter at that time of a sudden change in the nature of your resolution?

IZUTSU
: No, sir. I don’t think that was it.

HONDA
: The sword you brought to the dealer, was it your own?

IZUTSU
: No, sir, it was not. It was Iinuma’s sword.

HONDA
: What kind of weapon was in your own possession?

IZUTSU
: I had a dagger right from the beginning.

HONDA
: When did you obtain it?

IZUTSU
: Well, sir . . . yes, it was last summer. It was after we had made our vows before the shrine on the campus. I felt that it would be unmanly of me not to have a dagger at least. So I went to my uncle who is a collector, and I got one from him.

HONDA
: I see. And at that time, then, you had no clear and definite idea of the use to which you would put it?

IZUTSU
: No, sir. I only felt that someday, somehow I would like to use it. . . .

HONDA
: Very well. Now when was it that you came to a clear realization of the definite use to which it could be put?

IZUTSU
: I think it was when I was given the mission of assassinating Mr. Shonosuké Yagi.

HONDA
: What I’m asking is when the realization first came to you that, in order to commit an assassination, a dagger was indispensable.

IZUTSU
: Well, sir . . . as for that, I don’t remember too well.

HONDA
: Your Honor, I would like to ask Iinuma a few questions.

JUDGE
: Very well.

HONDA
: What kind of sword did you have?

IINUMA
: The sword that I gave Izutsu to sell was signed by Tadayoshi of Bizen. When I reached the third rank in kendo the year before last, my father gave it to me as a present.

HONDA
: Did you not exchange that valuable sword for daggers in order to use one of them to commit suicide?

IINUMA
: Pardon, sir?

HONDA
: You testified as to your fondness for the book
The
League of the Divine Wind
and said how the suicides of the men of the League had aroused your admiration. And you further testified that you wished to die in that manner, and that you had praised such a death to your comrades. On the battlefield the men of the League fought with their swords, but, when it came to suicide, they used daggers. And so judging from this . . .

IINUMA
: Yes, sir. Now I remember. At the meeting on the day of the arrest, someone said: “In case of emergency, each one should carry a second dagger hidden on his person.” Everyone agreed. This emergency dagger would be definitely for committing suicide, but we were arrested before we could buy more.

HONDA
: In that case, up to that time you had not considered buying weapons for such emergency use?

IINUMA
: No, sir.

HONDA
: But before that you had been firmly resolved upon suicide?

IINUMA
: Yes, sir.

HONDA
: In that case, this exchanging swords for daggers, might one say that you had killing yourselves in mind as much as killing others—that is to say, a double purpose?

IINUMA
: Yes, sir, you could say that.

HONDA
: Your action, therefore, in exchanging your ordinary weapons for daggers had a twofold purpose: assassination and suicide. And at the time in question these deadly weapons were not exclusively bound up with the idea of assassination. Is that right?

IINUMA
: Ah . . . yes, sir.

PROSECUTOR
: Your Honor, I object. The defense’s line of questioning is obviously tendentious.

JUDGE
: That should be enough questions from the defense. The matter of exchanging the swords has now been sufficiently covered. The prosecution may therefore call its witnesses.

Honda, as he sat behind his desk, was fairly content. By his questions he had somewhat confused the logic of linking the obtaining of the daggers to the intent to murder. Honda was concerned, however, about Judge Hisamatsu’s apparent lack of interest in the ideological aspects of the case. Right from the opening of the trial, the judge, by virtue of his authority, could have elicited from Isao any number of statements about his political beliefs, but he had made no attempt to do so.

The spectators looked over to the entrance of the courtroom, toward the uncertain tapping sound of a cane. An old man appeared. He was very tall but bent, shielding himself by clutching the front of his linen summer kimono, as though he were striving desperately to catch hold of something. The sunken eyes alone, beneath the white head of hair, were directed upwards. He made his way to the witness box, where he stood supporting himself on his cane.

The judge rose and read the written oath. The witness signed this with a trembling hand and put his seal upon it. A chair was provided for him before his testimony began.

In a voice so low the spectators could hardly hear him, the old man answered the judge’s questions: “My name is Reikichi Kitazaki. I am seventy-eight years old.”

JUDGE
: The witness has been the proprietor of the place in question for some time, I understand.

KITAZAKI
: Yes, Your Honor, I have. I opened my rooming house for military personnel at the time of the war with Russia, and I have continued to operate it up to the present time. Among my officer guests were many who went on to fame, becoming major generals and lieutenant generals. My establishment has a reputation for being a fortunate lodging house. It’s a rather shabby, dilapidated place, but I have been honored with the favor of military gentlemen, especially the officers of the Azabu Third Regiment. I have no wife, and, though it be frugal, I make my living without being a burden upon anyone.

JUDGE
: Does the prosecution have any questions to ask?

PROSECUTOR
: Yes, Your Honor. How long has First Lieutenant of Infantry Hori been a guest at your house?

KITAZAKI
: Well, sir . . . let me see now. Three years . . . no, two years. . . . My memory is not what it used to be. Oh my . . . yes, it’s been about two years, I think. . . .

PROSECUTOR
: Lieutenant Hori was promoted to first lieutenant three years ago. In March of 1930, that is. When he became a guest at your house, then, he was already a first lieutenant. Is that correct?

KITAZAKI
: Yes, sir, of that I’m sure. The gentleman wore two stars from the very beginning. And I have no memory of there being a promotion celebration.

PROSECUTOR
: In that case, it’s a matter of less than three years and more than one?

KITAZAKI
: Yes, sir. That is correct.

PROSECUTOR
: Did Lieutenant Hori have many visitors?

KITAZAKI
: Yes, sir, very often indeed. Not once was there a woman guest, but young men, students, were forever coming and going. They liked to hear him talk. And the Lieutenant, for his part, was fond of them. If dinner time came, he would send out to the neighborhood shops for food. He treated them well and would empty out his pockets for them.

PROSECUTOR
: How long has he shown such a predilection?

KITAZAKI
: That, sir, was from the very beginning. Yes.

PROSECUTOR
: Did the Lieutenant have much to say to you concerning his visitors?

KITAZAKI
: Oh, no. In that regard he was not at all like Lieutenant Miura. He was not affable with me and hardly had a word to say. So there was no likelihood at all of his confiding in me about his guests. . . .

PROSECUTOR
: One moment please. What about this Lieutenant Miura?

KITAZAKI
: A gentleman who has been a long-time guest. His room is on the second floor—at the opposite end of the corridor from Lieutenant Hori. He has a rough manner, but he is good-natured.

PROSECUTOR
: Please tell us whether or not there is anything special that you remember about Lieutenant Hori’s visitors.

KITAZAKI
: Well, sir, I will. On this particular night, I was bringing Lieutenant Miura his dinner, and when I was passing Lieutenant Hori’s room, the door was closed, and, all of a sudden, from the inside I heard the Lieutenant shouting as though he were giving an order on the drill field. It rattled me considerably.

PROSECUTOR
: What did Lieutenant Hori say?

KITAZAKI
: That I remember clearly. “Don’t you understand? Give it up!” he shouted angrily.

PROSECUTOR
: Do you have any idea what he meant by “Give it up”?

KITAZAKI
: Well, no, sir. After all, it was something shouted as I was just going by, and I was hard put to keep from dropping my tray. And since, as you see, I’m not good on my feet anyway, it was all I could do to hurry on to Lieutenant Miura’s room. You see, Lieutenant Miura was really famished that night. Earlier he had called down to me: “Hey, old fellow! Hurry up and bring my supper.” And now if I dropped his tray, I thought, I’d have Lieutenant Miura shouting at me. When I put the tray down in front of Lieutenant Miura, he grinned and said: “He’s going at it, isn’t he?” And that was all. He didn’t say another word about it. I think that’s one of the good things about military men.

PROSECUTOR
: How many visitors were in Lieutenant Hori’s room on the night in question?

KITAZAKI
: Well, I believe there was one. Yes . . . that was it, one.

PROSECUTOR
: And when was this night that Lieutenant Hori said, “Give it up”? This is an extremely critical point, so please try to remember exactly. What year, what month, what day? Do you keep a diary?