His own group had all been burned to death in the fire or cut to pieces as they tried to escape. They thought he was dead, too, that the small gang of Korean gangsters was completely destroyed. It was a deliberate object lesson in brutality. Japan was going to emerge again stronger than ever from the destruction of the war, and the power brokers did not want rivals. And they certainly did not want Koreans. The Koreans were a conquered people who had come to Japan as virtual forced labor before and during the Second World War, and then had used the U.S. occupation to try to break out of their servitude.
Japan was defeated. There was a power vacuum. The black market flourished. The gurentai, a new breed of more vicious gangster, emerged with little of the spirit of the traditional yakuza. The gurentai were ruthless and ran roughshod over the defeated Japanese. Many of the gurentai were Korean. It was an opportunity to hit back at the arrogance of the Japanese, to prey on their erstwhile masters. Their conquerors were now the defeated. The newly released Koreans were protected by the U.S Arm of occupation — at first.
For several exhilarating years in the immediate postwar period, Korean gangsters enjoyed unprecedented success in Japan. The occupation regime concentrated on demilitarization and changing Japan into a liberal democracy.
Then came a change in emphasis. The defeat of communism became the main priority. Anyone and everything that was opposed to communism, or purported to be opposed to communism, began to get active U.S. intelligence support.
Hodama was released from prison for just such a purpose. He was an organizer and a fixer, with unparalleled connections. He knew how to press the right buttons to win political support. He knew how to recruit gangs of young thugs — such as the Namakas — to enforce his will. An alliance of U.S. intelligence, right-wing politicians, and organized crime was created. This alliance set out to defeat communism and the burgeoning left-wing movement in Japan and to seize political power. This demanded cultivating popular support, and one of the quickest ways was to turn on the Korean criminal gangs. They were fiercely resented by the average Japanese and were a convenient focus of hate.
The man in the black silk suit was seventeen when the attack by Hodama's people came. The warehouse where his gang was based was surrounded by the Namakas and other members of Hodama's group and saturated with gasoline. Twenty-six Korean gang members had died in that holocaust, including the man in the black silk suit's mother, father, two brothers, and sister.
The one survivor had sworn revenge.
He lived only for retribution. But revenge would only be possible if he became strong. Hodama and the Namakas had the powerful backing of U.S. intelligence, and soon became even more powerful in their own right. The right time to exact appropriate retribution seemed never to come.
The decades passed. The man in the black silk suit worked his way up to become boss of one of the most powerful yakuza gangs in Japan, but still could not strike at Hodama and his supporters without excessive risk and terminal consequences. Hodama's base of support was too strong. He was needed. He could deliver the votes. He was a linchpin of the right wing, of the anti-communist alliance. He was the leading kuromaku behind the Liberal Democrat Party, and he was the CIA's man. He was protected.
Though some knew the story, the fire had removed most traces of the survivor's Korean background. He took the name Katsuda and initially passed himself off as Japanese, though eventually, as the Korean community in Japan prospered and searched for protection against the dominant Japanese, he reestablished his Korean links and traded upon them. Over time, as the Katsuda-gumi became ever stronger, he, too, established links wit the right wing and the LPD and the Americans. And he waited for the right opportunity.
Sooner or later Hodama would make a mistake. He would lose his protection and Katsuda could strike. It was a carefully planned operation refined again and again over the years, which would destroy not only Hodama but his whole base of support, starting with the Namakas. The Americans, referring to the spread of communism in Southeast Asia, called it ‘the Domino Theory.’ Katsuda thought the simple applicable to what he had in mind. Knock down the first tile and it falls on the second, which falls on the third...
When it was over, there would be a new kuromaku, Katsuda-sensei. Only very few people would know. Hodama had enjoyed his public reputation. He felt it increased his influence. Katsuda had no time for such vanities. He wanted power, but cloaked in secrecy. It was the way of a true kuromaku. Invisible but all-powerful.
While still a young man, Katsuda had been impatient for revenge. The image of the destruction of his enemies had influenced his every action. It made him faster, more ruthless, and more urgent in everything he did.
Yet as time went on, he learned to savor his motivation. Anticipation in itself, he found, was greatly pleasurable. The fact that Hodama and his followers were blithely unaware of their nemesis gave the enterprise and added piquancy.
Katsuda wanted Hodama to die without ever knowing. He wanted to deny him even this slight and fleeting satisfaction. Katsuda would be the bringer of death, and the way of death would be terrible. The thoughts of Hodama himself were of little concern. Only his fear and pain would be important. The man must die in fear and he must suffer. Katsuda had seen his family die in agony, and he could not forget. He did not wish to forget.
Patiently, Katsuda studied his intended victims and waited. And waited. Then, at last, the conjunction of several events created the opportunity.
The cold war came to an end, and gradually it began to be perceived that the strategic importance of Japan had changed. For forty years and more, Japan had been offered unrivaled access to U.S. markets in exchange for being an unswerving U.S. ally. This was no longer so important.
Japanese economic success had made the leading Japanese power brokers cocky. They no longer felt obligated to America. Japan was now the world's second-largest economic power, and, in the opinion of Hodama and some others, the time had come for Japan's international behavior to reflect its economic power. The time for automatically playing second fiddle to the U.S was over.
The third development was a sense by the political analysts and intelligence services of the world's lat remaining superpower that the time of the postwar politicians was over. They had become associated with ‘money politics’ and their greed had surfaced once too often. There had been too many public scandals. The old regime had run its course. It had served its purpose.
It was time for an illusion of change.
New blood would be brought in, to public acclaim. But, of course, Japan's real kuromaku, the U.S., would continue as normal. Tatemae and honne. The public image and the private reality. Japan might indeed be the world's second-largest economy — but the operative word was ‘second.’
In the final analysis, a country of one hundred and twenty-nine million people on the wrong side of the globe, living on a chain of a thousand islands without almost any natural resources, could never fundamentally change the world's true leader. And if it thought of so doing, it would not be allowed to. What was needed to be done, would be done. Every action that might prove necessary.