Nobunaga World

By Darvin Babiuk

For three days and nights the villagers of Gujo danced. For three days they stepped out of the Nissan world of factory lines, trade imbalances, and stock deals for the Nobunaga world of shared heritage and beliefs. For three nights the village square was cleared and the dancers danced. For three thousand -- What? Years? Millennia? Lifetimes? -- it had been that way. As always, in the centre, the heart feeding the body of the nation, stood the large raised platform, the yagura, where the drummers beat out the national identity. From long before Mayumi Ohta could remember, they had tatooed the hauntingly, hypnotic medley of traditional o-bon songs on their huge barrel-like drums, marking their message indelibly into the Japanese soul, and this year was no different. Placed under the spreading arms of a welcoming yew tree, she looked up through the murky branches into the sky and smiled contentedly. She had all night. There was no hurry. She knew he would come. Then, once again, all would be right in her world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darvin Babiuk
• Release date: Jun 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201795719

Darvin Babiuk

Author of his own misfortunes, Darvin Babiuk writes history, novels, short stories, translations, articles, shopping lists, and has more than once been considered a write-off. He hopes to be around to write his own obituary. Friends and relatives say he has never been the same after the tragic incident at the Moose Factory 47th annual Dmitro Petrycyshyn Pickerel and Perogies Cribbage tournament. His turn-ons include women with mustaches, Men Without Hats (The musical group, silly!), honey Dijon mustard and leopard frogs. If he were a vegetable, he'd be a beet, pithy but misunderstood. He wishes he could write like Scarlett Johansson's voice sounds. He has lived and worked in a number of overseas locations in Asia, Africa and the Middle East.

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Table of Contents

Nobunaga World

KOSEI'S CONUNDRUM: COMING UP FOR AIR

NOBUNAGA WORLD

A CERTAIN MISS TAKAHASHI

WHITE SHEEP

AKATEN

AT THE ZOO

OLD FRIENDS

THE DAY CHIYONOFUJI RETIRED

SAIKO

JISHUKU

SECRET LOVE

MARRIED TO THE WRONG KIND OF MAN

Other Works by This Author

Nobunaga World

A Collection of Short Stories Related to Japan

Copyright © 2012 Darvin Babiuk

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Kosei’s Conundrum: Coming Up for Air

Nobunaga World

A Certain Miss Takahashi

White Sheep

Akaten

At the Zoo

Old Friends

The Day Chiyonofuji Retired

Saiko

Jishuku

Secret Love

Married to the Wrong Kind of Man

KOSEI'S CONUNDRUM: COMING UP FOR AIR

KOSEI FUNATO DID NOT look like a gangster. With his thick glasses, boyish hair, and neatly-pressed suit with row of ball point pens arranged by height in the handkerchief pocket, he looked more like a salaryman trying to impress a section chief than a descendant of masterless samurai, defender of the weak, and preyer of little old ladies bent over baby carriages.

There were people who were content, even happy, in Japan after the boom, the hangover years after the country made news buying anything overseas with a vowel in it, but Kosei was not one of them. It had been just his luck to pick that year—the year of the chicken, when a foreigner became the first Grand Sumo Champion ever and the economic bubble burst—to graduate. Not only had fried noodle companies stopped giving new recruits trips to Hawaii, some of them even withdrew offers made to graduates the year before. In times like this, he'd be lucky to get a job at the post office. It was all someone who'd graduated from a school like his could hope for. That didn't mean he saw any reason to be dull, however. Which explained why he was here.

The driver had to clear his throat twice before Kosei realized the taxi had stopped. He fumbled with his change, stealing quick looks, while the driver waited. Other than the rows of black limos, surveillance cameras, and strategically placed men who'd left their smiles in their other suit pockets, it looked more like a housewife's home in the suburbs than the headquarters of the most feared mob in Japan. Before he had too long to think about it, the Shinto hit the fan. A hard shove between the shoulders sent him stumbling down the walk into the front entrance. He just had time to see the name on the mailbox before the door slammed shut behind him. Silence. Even a crying baby knew enough to dummy up when it heard the name Yamaguchi-gumi.

The meeting was just getting under way. December thirteenth: a special day for the yakuza, the first of the calendar year, when the oyabun gathered his men to announce any new policies, then broke for winter vacation at the nearest hot spring. It was also the time when the new recruits—this year's crop included a large number of college graduates expected to work wonders with the mob's accounts—were inducted into the ranks, one of the few growth industries going.

It’s a new age, he said welcoming them. It’s time we learned how to use our brains. Let the Koreans and Chinese live in the Stone Age. New times call for new measures.

Each of you will be given a test to prove yourselves and show you understand what it takes to be a gangster, a pimply man with curly hair and four fingers on his left hand told the group of sweating youths swaying from one gucci loafer to the other. This was the yakuza? Kosei cast a glance at the rice-fed faces of the boys on either side of him. Neither looked any different from your average college student, probably named Hiroshi, with good grades and nice families and well on the way to male-pattern-baldness. Ushered quickly into the meeting hall, they'd just had time to hear the whisper of silken kimono, orders given and oaths pledged in blood, before the ceremony ended and groups of men with faces the texture of concrete filed out. The meeting was over, sealed with toasts of dry, sweet rice wine. Now, it was time to deal with less important matters.

Only by completing your assigned tasks can you prove yourselves worthy and consider yourself members of Yamaguchi-gumi, the man continued, reading out their assignments. Fail, and you won't be taken on. Worse, he said, looking directly at Kosei, not even the post office will hire you after you've been with us.

Suzuki, the boy on his left, was given the task of joining as many political parties as he could and worming his way in. Tanaka, on Kosei's right, with buying stocks in blue-chip companies so he could attend stockholder meetings and blackmail them in return for not causing any embarrassing incidents.  Adachi was charged with setting up bank accounts for payment from victims of staged traffic accidents, and Gotoh for greasing the palms of enough immigration officials to ensure a constant supply of young Filipina and Thai girls for the mizu shobai. To Kosei, he gave the easiest job of all, jiageya.

A quick ceremony in blood and before they knew it, they were up to their necks in hot water. It was like college all over again as they scattered to the hot spring to bathe in the mineral water, drink beer, and puzzle over their assignments. Sitting around in the steaming water with hand-towels on their heads, they introduced themselves and thought out loud about how to accomplish their tasks. Gotoh had a cousin he was sure he could count on in Immigration to look the other way and stamp the right visas. Suzuki knew a professor in tight with the Finance Ministry, and Tanaka had a brother-in-law who was a cop and would be useful for fabricating accident reports.

How about you, Kosei? Gotoh asked, sliding over to dunk his head under the cooler water dripping from a bamboo reed.

Kosei ducked his head under the water, letting the air out of his lungs and sinking to the bottom of the pool until he couldn't stand it anymore and came up for air. No use. When he got up, they were still there.

I don't know, he admitted. "I'm not sure what jiageya means."

They took a survey around the pool and were embarrassed to find no one did. Luckily, one of the gang was walking by and Tanaka got the nerve up to ask.

Is it violent? Kosei asked, with what he hoped was the right tone of bravado, trying to hide how nervous he was.

Violent? laughed the thug, contemplating taking Kosei's head and holding it under the water until he stopped asking stupid questions.

That depends on whether you call three months living in a luxury apartment with nothing to do but sit around drinking beer and watching videos violent or not.

There's money in that? Kosei asked, puzzled. He certainly hadn't found any doing almost exactly the same thing during four years of college.

Enough for both us and the real estate company to go around.

But what am I supposed to do?

Nothing. Just let the neighbours know who you are and wait.

For what?

To leave. Your job is to scare them the hell out of there the thug said, sounding as if he didn't think Kosei was halfway up to it.

That's good for business? None of this had been in his Economics texts, even when he had read them. Why can’t the real estate company just ask them to leave?

Leases, idiot. With rents as low as they are, no one’s going to want to leave.

How does an empty building help the real estate company?

It helps 'em right out of a small building with cheap rents into a big one with expensive ones.

But how do I do that? Get them to move?

"Listen. Half of them are going to run as soon as they find out who you are. Put our name plate outside your door. They’ll know what’s coming. Offer 'em a bit of money if it makes 'em feel better. With the stubborn ones, you’ve got