The Kingdom of the Wind

Hiroyuki Itsuki, Meredith Mckinney

Description

One journalist joins forces with a nomadic religious group to stop an evil conglomerate from destroying the forest, and their way of life. 

Journalist Takashi Hayami meets Ai Katsuragi, a member of a religious organization, Tenmu Jinshinko, which meets secretly at the tomb of the Emperor Nintoku. The group adheres to the nomadic way of life of its ancestors, which lacked family registers and fixed abodes, and flouts civic duties such as paying taxes, serving in the armed forces and compulsory education. Even when the government tries to crack down on a segment of the populace, they continue to discipline themselves in the way of living as ambulatory people. They rely on the company Ikarino to fund the various political, social and cultural activities they promote that protect their unique lifestyle. But when Ikarino becomes a giant conglomerate that destroys the forests and mountains that form the foundation of the Tenmu Jinkshinko, Hayami must join the group’s struggle to save their way of life. 

Sujets

• General officer
• General

Informations

• Publié par: Anthem Press
• Date de parution: 30 juin 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783081417
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE KINGDOM OF THE WIND
The Kingdom of the Wind
THAMES RIVER PRESS An imprint of Wimbledon Publishing Company Limited (WPC) Another imprint of WPC is Anthem Press ( www.anthempress.com ) First published in the United Kingdom in 2014 by THAMES RIVER PRESS 75–76 Blackfriars Road London SE1 8HA
www.thamesriverpress.com
Original title: Kaze no Okoku Copyright © Hiroyuki Itsuki 1985 Originally published in Japan by Shinchosha English translation copyright © Meredith McKinney 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.
The moral rights of the author have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All the characters and events described in this novel are imaginary and any similarity with real people or events is purely coincidental.
A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-1-78308-129-5
This title is also available as an ebook.
This book has been selected by the Japanese Literature Publishing Project (JLPP), an initiative of the Agency for Cultural Affairs of Japan.
THE KINGDOM OF THE WIND
HIROYUKI ITSUKI
Translated by Meredith McKinney
Plough no furrow Belong to no nation Live in no place Have no self
PART I
1
A sudden raucous voice blared behind him. A red light was flashing in his rear view mirror. “The white car with the Shinagawa number plate! You there, pull over to the left!”
Taku Hayami stepped on the brake. He had been aware of the patrol car tailing him for some time. But he couldn’t think why he was being pulled over.
“Damn.” He put on his turn signal and slowly drew the car to a halt beside a utility pole. The patrol car swerved ahead of him and pulled up. It bore the name of the Osaka Police Department. A helmeted policeman emerged and strode over. Another remained in the car.
“Your license,” said the cop. He was young, with a boy’s face. Taku pulled his license out of his back pocket and handed it over.
“You’re from Tokyo?”
“Yes.” Taku turned on the interior light so the policeman could see his face.
“Thank you, that’s fine.” Returning the license, the cop stepped back a few steps. “Turn off your lights and step on the brake please.” He spoke in a local Kansai accent.
“The brake?” Taku raised his right foot and lowered it onto the brake pedal.
“There, you see?” said the policeman, pointing to the rear of the car. “The left brake light’s out.”
Taku stepped on the brake again, and the policeman shook his head. “No, it doesn’t come on.”
“Right. I’ll fix it right away.” Taku glanced at the clock. Eleven fifteen. Nothing to worry about. There was still plenty of time until midnight, when the group would gather.
“I’m going to impress you by changing the bulb inside one minute,” he announced. He turned off the engine, and took from the glove compartment a black box containing various spare bulbs. Then, from the toolbox under the dashboard, he drew out a Phillips-head screwdriver. He stepped out and around behind the car.
The policeman trained a flashlight onto the rear of the car. “This is a Mercedes 4WD, is it?” he said in surprise.
“That’s right.” Swiftly, Taku removed the brake light cover. He changed the bulb, then carefully screwed the plastic cover back into place. If you tightened too much, it tended to crack. The policeman helpfully shone his torch on Taku’s hands as they worked.
“You’re registered as a normal sedan car, I see. Unusual for something this size.”
“That’s right. That’s the beauty of this car.” Right on the minute, he gave the screw its final twist and all was completed.
The policeman was no longer trying to hide his expression of youthful fascination with cars, and this one in particular. He was round at the door ahead of Taku, peering in. “I’ll try the brake and see if it’s working now. Okay?”
“Sure, sure, go ahead.”
The policeman opened the door and twisted himself into the driver’s seat, checked to see where the brake was, and put his foot down on it. The brake light flashed.
Taku held up his hand. “That worked. Thanks.”
“This car has no free-wheeling hubs, eh?” the policeman asked.
“Yes, I guess you don’t want to stop the car when there are bullets flying at you, say, or cause a breakdown in the desert or something. Besides, it’s not the kind of car that has an issue with noise.”
“You use it in the military too, do you?”
“Yes, Daimler Benz developed this car in collaboration with the weapons company Steyr-Puch, you see. Apparently they were put to pretty big use by the Argentine side in the Falklands War. A different type from this one, of course.”
“Wow.” The policeman was still sitting in the driver’s seat, disinclined to move. “So this is the transfer control lever? And what’s this round one?”
“You use that to independently lock the front and rear diff.”
I was just like this when I was his age, Taku was thinking. No, probably not like this really. I would’ve done whatever it took to get my hands on the steering wheel and do a lap around the block.
“Actually, I’m planning to get myself a Jimny 1000 sometime,” the young policeman revealed a little shyly. He climbed out of the car, bowed politely, and turned back to the patrol car.
“Er, just a moment,” Taku called to him as he was sliding into the driver’s seat of his Benz. “Could you tell me if I’m on the right road for the Nintoku Tomb?”
“You mean the burial mound of the ancient emperor?” The policeman nodded, and gave him succinct directions. “If you end up in the area round the back, it’s full of love hotels, you know. Drive safely.”
He was about to go, but suddenly he stopped and cocked his head to one side quizzically. “Is something going on there tonight? At the mound, I mean.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Some others were asking the way there just a while ago too.”
Taku forced a smile. “I’d guess they were just a bit shy to ask how to get to a love hotel in so many words.”
“Those guys didn’t look like the type, really.”
“Well, thanks.” Taku Hayami raised his hand in farewell, pressed lightly on the accelerator, and turned the key. The five-cylinder diesel engine started at what seemed a single touch, spinning into action with a metallic cry that resounded confidently through the quiet night. The loud beating of his heart seemed to echo it. He released the hand brake, throwing his weight behind the gesture, and headed the car towards the Nintoku Tomb.
Turning left at the traffic light as instructed, Taku found himself in a wide, empty street. Imperial Tomb Avenue, said the sign. Not a soul was in sight along the dark road. On his right soared a high tower, while a black row of trees lined the stretch to his left.
This was his first visit to the tomb mound. He’d double-checked its location with the aid of a map before he set off, and found it on GSI 1:2500 map 4 for the Sakai area of Osaka, at N1/53/15/9/2. The address was number 7 Daisen-cho, Sakai. A large number of other ancient imperial tomb mounds, the most famous of which was that of emperor Richu, dotted the surrounding area known as the Mozu Tomb Collection, a place of great archaeological significance. On his way here, he’d dropped into a book shop in Kobe and snatched a look at a guidebook of the area, which said that it was one of the two great imperial mound regions in the Kawachi area, rivaling the famous Furuichi Tomb Collection in importance.
Can it really be bigger than a pyramid? he wondered. Taku recalled the great pyramid of Pharaoh Khufu that he’d seen when he went to Giza, at about the same age as that young policeman.
Seven or eight years had passed since his trip to Egypt. He’d been a young man in his early twenties back then, temporarily employed as a driver by a Japanese company in Cairo—an impetuous, car-loving youth, bursting with the urge for adventure. Now he was a tired man past thirty who still lived alone. He was no longer as fascinated with driving cars. These days, his only love was walking.
In no time, he saw a small open area on his left. He slowed as he passed it. To its right stood a building that might be some sort of administrative office. A single light burned softly above the door. Taku could make out a set of stone posts strung through with a chain indicating a parking lot, a gravel area, and a black metal fence surrounding the whole space. Beyond stood the dark shape of a shrine gate. To either side of it, two dense rows of tall shrubs stood blackly, as if to obstruct the gaze from what lay beyond.
So this was the Nintoku Tomb.
Taku drove on for a while, keeping his eye on the row of trees that continued on his left.
Yes, it was big all right.
He finally came to a halt some distance beyond the plaza. It took both hands to pull up the heavy handbrake. Then he cut the engine, which stopped with a thud that shook his shoulders. He guessed there were so few passersby in these parts that he could safely leave the