“Yukihiko Hirota,” he said. His English had a British accent to it. I’ve never met a Japanese who spoke British English instead of American English, and that surprised me.
“Ken Tanaka,” I responded.
“I’m extremely pleased that Miss Ohara called me,” he said, handing me his meishi, or business card. “And I have to admit that I’m bloody excited about the possibility that you might have another of the special swords made by Kannemori. I just got back in town and I had to rush over to see it.”
“Frankly, I’m excited about it, too. It’s something I picked up at a garage sale and I never anticipated that it would be worth anything more than decoration.”
“Well, I’m not a sword appraiser,” the professor said, “but if you’re interested in selling it I can introduce you to several chaps who would be anxious to buy it. The exact price would depend on the condition, but if it’s a genuine Kannemori, I’m sure it’s worth at least fifteen to twenty thousand dollars, American.”
That surprised me. A windfall.
“Is the sword here?” The professor’s eyes had a gleam of youthful excitement, like a little boy before Christmas.
“I’ll get it,” Junko said. “Why don’t you two sit down and relax. I’ll also get us some tea.”
That the professor jumped into business before some of the Japanese social preliminaries were handled was surprising to me, but I had already concluded that Hirota was a rather interesting man. We both sat down in the chairs around the coffee table, with Hirota putting his portfolio on the table.
“Your English has a British tinge to it,” I remarked.
“Yes. People often comment on it. I studied comparative history at Cambridge for two years and I picked up the accent there. To tell you the truth, I’ve made an effort to keep it because it rather enhances my image in academic circles. There’s nothing like an English accent to make even the most banal statement sound reasoned and scholarly. It’s pulled my chestnuts out of the fire on more than one occasion when I’ve made a silly ass of myself in front of colleagues at conferences or such where we use English. Instead of branding me as a dunce, the accent causes them to nod sagely, as if I have just made a singularly intelligent statement.”
I laughed and he joined in.
“Are you a sword enthusiast?” he asked.
“No, not unless you count samurai movies.”
“Oh? Perhaps something like Zatoichi, the blind swordsman movies?”
I was almost insulted. The Zatoichi movies are great fun, but I’m not a kid. “Actually I was thinking of something like Inagaki’s samurai trilogy or any of Kurosawa’s samurai films. I even consider Ozu’s Uegestu a samurai movie, although most would classify it as a ghost film.”
He gave me a big smile. “You are a samurai enthusiast!”
“No, just an old film enthusiast. Most of the movies I see don’t have too many living actors.”
Hirota laughed. “Are you staying in Japan for very long?”
“Unfortunately, no. Just a few more days until the News Pop television show is on. I’m scheduled to leave Japan right after that.”
“That’s unfortunate. It would be wonderful if you could see the real Japan, not just the crowding and glitter of Tokyo. I perceive that you are of Japanese ancestry, and it would be wonderful if you could trace down your roots.”
“If I ever get to return to Japan that will be a project I’ll try to arrange. Right now I’m just trying to stay out of trouble until the television show.”
“Well, there are still many things to see in Tokyo. I hope you have a pleasant time in our country.”
“It’s been eventful, if nothing else, but I hope the rest of my stay will be nice.”
Before we could continue Junko came in with a tray holding two covered, handleless cups filled with green tea, the ubiquitous refreshment in Japanese business meetings. She put them down before us and left to get the sword.
“When you said ‘eventful’ you used a tone that makes me wonder what you meant. Has anything untoward happened during your stay here?”
“Well, I’ve been chased twice by a couple of Yakuza thugs, not something on the usual tourist itinerary.”
“Yakuza? What on earth for?”
“I don’t know for sure, but in the case that got me on News Pop, I put away the son of the head of the Sekiguchi-gummi. I think they’re trying to take revenge.”
“That is frightening. I do hope you’re taking every precaution to assure your safety.”
“I’m going to do what they used to do in the old West. I’m leaving town. I’ll return on the day of the show.”
“I thought the frontier marshal always stayed in town to fight it out with the tough guys.” Hirota picked up his cup to sip the hot tea.
“That was Gary Cooper in High Noon. This is Ken Tanaka in Tokyo. I don’t feel I have a responsibility to protect the capital city of Japan from a couple of Yakuza. The Tokyo police don’t seem too interested in pursuing the case, so I’m going to do what’s best to protect me.”
“Please do. I’m afraid this will probably leave a very bad impression with you about Japan. Our society seems to break down with each passing day and I’m sorry you’ve been disappointed by your visit here.”
“Not disappointed. It’s actually been wonderful. The situation I find myself in is a legacy from Los Angeles, so it’s not something the typical tourist would encounter.”
Junko returned with the sword in its scabbard. Hirota stood up, his eyes bright with anticipation. “May I inspect it?” he asked me.
“Of course,” I said.
He carefully took the sword from Junko and placed it on the coffee table. He unzipped his portfolio and took out a large piece of folded white paper. He unfolded the paper and placed it on the coffee table. It covered the tabletop, overlapping slightly. He moved the sword so it was sitting on the paper. Then he withdrew the sword from its scabbard and placed it down on the paper. He examined it in silence for several moments, then he picked it up and sighted down its blade, with the sharpened side up.
“It’s really in marvelous condition,” he said. “The scabbard and handle are a bit scruffy, but the blade, which is the soul of the weapon, is still bright and sharp. It certainly looks like a Kannemori sword, but I would have to remove the handle and examine the tang to make sure. I don’t know how complete an inspection you’ll allow me, but I’d like to, at a minimum, take a rubbing of the blade.”
He reached into his portfolio and took out two manila envelopes, each labeled in kanji. He opened them and took out two large pieces of tissue paper. Each piece of paper held the image of a sword blade, done in reddish-brown chalk. The tissue paper was put over the blade and the chalk was rubbed across the sword, transferring the patterns on the blade to the paper. The designs were quite clear. One of the blade rubbings ended at the sword guard, but the other was of the complete blade with the handle and guard removed. The tang of this blade had kanji characters incised in it.
“These are rubbings of two other Kannemori swords with these unusual patterns. This sword is at the Japan National Museum.” He indicated the rubbing without a tang and then pointed to the other rubbing. “And this is a Kannemori sword owned by a private collector in Kyoto.”
“They’re different,” I pointed out.
“Yes. The patterns on each are quite distinctive. It’s a highly unusual feature for a Japanese sword. You’ll note I couldn’t get permission to remove the handle of the sword at the Japan National Museum, so I don’t have an impression of the tang. I had a request in to the museum to allow me to do this, but the sword was stolen before it was granted.”
“Stolen?”
“Yes. A student who was working as an intern at the museum apparently stole the sword. He was only a suspect, but he recently committed suicide, apparently in remorse. They searched his room, but they couldn’t find the sword. It’s a very tragic case.”