Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Chapter 189 The Crowd's Counterattack

The following morning, as expected, several major newspapers published only a meager brief news item in the corner of their social sections: "An attempted armed robbery occurred last night. A well-known writer and a female companion were frightened; the suspect has been apprehended by the police."

In just over thirty words, it was as if a thin white cloth had been hastily placed over the severely damaged car, the weapons hidden under old newspapers, and the steel pipe that almost fell on Kitahara Iwa last night.

In this text message, Shinichi Miyazawa's name was deliberately omitted, and the words "attempted armed robbery" were placed among a bunch of news about drunken brawls, traffic accidents and shop burglaries, making it look like just another insignificant little case in the Tokyo night.

The Metropolitan Police Department's overnight gag order successfully downgraded this vicious attack on the writer into a regular public order incident.

As for the bureaucrats of Xiaguan, the banks involved, and the dirty chain of interests that transmits the will of the higher-ups to the streets and alleys, they will not leave any trace on the printed pages.

They attempted to portray the incident as a typical public security news story, like handling a drunkard's disturbance or a trivial street conflict, completely burying it in the bustling morning light of Tokyo.

But this time, the Japanese publishing industry did not choose to turn a blind eye.

At 9:00 a.m., Shinchosha was the first to issue a public statement to the public.

The statement was titled with only one short sentence: "The Knife Before the Pages Fall."

This statement was like a nuclear bomb, instantly shaking the entire Japanese cultural world.

Shinchosha's statement was written with great restraint, removing all subjective accusations throughout.

It simply lays out the facts of the past few months in chronological order: from the financial sector's crackdown on the publication of "The Collapsed Tower" to the unusual removal of books from chain bookstores; from the National Tax Service's surprise raid on Kitahara Iwa's apartment under the pretext of tax inspection to the organized armed attack on Kitahara Iwa last night at the alley entrance.

The last few sentences of the statement were like a heavy hammer blow to the hearts of all readers: "If a novel is written incorrectly, the market and time will naturally cause it to lose readers."

"But if the way to respond to a novel is through tax raids, financial blockades, removal from shelves, and knives in dark alleys at night, then what is truly dangerous is no longer the novel itself, but the era that was so afraid of novels that it had to resort to knives."

Less than half an hour after the statement was issued, Kodansha's cultural department urgently followed up by reposting it.

Immediately afterwards, Bungei Shunju published a short commentary in support.

The editorial department of Chuo Koronsha was even more decisive, directly removing the entire commentary page that had been printed that day and replacing it overnight with an editorial with extremely strong wording: "The publishing industry can debate whether Kitahara Iwa's economic judgment is accurate, and the literary world can criticize whether the writing style of 'The Collapsing Tower' is too gloomy."

"But once any force attempts to silence writers with taxes, loan cuts, censorship, and knives in the streets, it is no longer attacking a single book, but all writers who still dare to write about reality!"

After this editorial was published, several publications that had previously criticized Kitahara Iwao harshly joined forces, a rare occurrence.

They did not retract their previous criticisms regarding the literary aspects.

Despite ongoing industry controversy surrounding the book's "overly pessimistic tone" or "absolute conclusions," these intellectuals have drawn a remarkably clear line when faced with violent and overreaching interference.

Criticizing a work is a clash of words.

But using violence to suppress writers is an overreach of power.

Once the knife is extended into the publishing industry, the doors of all publishing houses will be kicked open by the powerful.

At 2 PM that afternoon, at the Kadokawa Shoten headquarters.

In stark contrast to Shinchosha's restrained written statement, Haruki Kadokawa, known for his unruly behavior, overturned all public relations procedures and urgently convened a press conference.

Initially, many reporters came with the mindset of simply following up on ordinary social news.

After all, the official press releases obtained by various newspapers before this were extremely vague. The Metropolitan Police Department only briefly reported a "late-night security incident at an alleyway," and the victim was frightened but not injured.

These kinds of news items, tucked away in the corners of the social section, take up no more than twenty lines of printed text.

However, when Haruki Kadokawa strode up to the microphone and, without even a polite opening remark, slammed several newspapers onto the podium, the atmosphere in the entire venue instantly froze.

"An attempted armed robbery occurred late at night at the alley entrance. A well-known writer and a woman accompanying him were frightened. The suspect has been apprehended by the police."

Haruki Kadokawa picked up the newspaper, read the meager short message word by word, and then slammed it back onto the table.

With a muffled "thud," Haruki Kadokawa raised his head, his aggressive gaze sweeping across the reporters from the front row of several major national newspapers like a razor blade.

"It's written so lightly. So lightly that I almost thought the car that was smashed beyond recognition last night, the daggers hidden under the old newspapers, and the dozen or so yakuza members surrounding the dark alley were all hallucinations that appeared out of nowhere in the winter night of Tokyo!"

A reporter sensed something was wrong and immediately raised his hand to ask, "Mr. Kadokawa, do you mean this isn't an ordinary robbery?"

"Are you genuinely unaware, or are you playing dumb with me?"

Haruki Kadokawa stared at the reporter who asked the question, his face showing an expression as if he were looking at an idiot, and ruthlessly interrupted the other person's act of feigning ignorance.

Seeing the reporter's somewhat stiff expression, Haruki Kadokawa gave a mocking sneer and said, "Since you self-proclaimed 'uncrowned kings' of the media don't even dare to do the most basic investigation, or if you find out the truth, you'll just obediently hold your nose and copy the Metropolitan Police Department's press release, then today I'll simply tear down this veil of secrecy for you!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Haruki Kadokawa suddenly braced himself on the podium with both hands, leaned forward aggressively, and raised his voice to shout, "Then let me tell you clearly! The person who was surrounded by more than a dozen armed yakuza in a dark alley last night and almost hacked to death was the author of 'The Collapsing Tower,' Kitahara Iwao!"

These words were like a thunderclap out of nowhere, instantly igniting an uproar in the previously quiet meeting room.

Reporters in the front row looked up in shock, some dropping their pens onto their laps. Several photographers stood up reflexively, their flashes going off wildly, turning the scene into a blinding daylight.

Who was the attacker?

"Is it really related to Kitahara-sensei?"

Why is the Metropolitan Police Department concealing names?

At that moment, questions flooded the stage like a tsunami.

Haruki Kadokawa raised his hand and pressed it down heavily, then pointed sharply at the long lenses and microphones of the mainstream media outlets, demanding sharply, "Now you know to ask questions? When the Metropolitan Police Department issued a gag order last night, and when several major newspapers shoved this premeditated assassination into a corner of their social news sections this morning, why didn't you ask any questions then?!"

"A writer who was just audited by the IRS, had his loans cut off by banks, and was blacklisted by various channels almost died at the hands of yakuza in the blink of an eye, and all you dare to write is a flippant 'The well-known writer was frightened'!"

"Are the pens in your hands meant to record the truth, or are they merely used to wipe the blood off the floor for the Ministry of Finance and the Metropolitan Police Department?!"

Faced with this relentless barrage, the faces of several reporters from major newspapers in the audience turned pale. They tried to speak up in defense, but were completely silenced by the frantic clicking of camera shutters around them.

Haruki Kadokawa had no intention of giving them a chance to breathe. He pulled out a few high-resolution photos from the folder next to him and threw them at the front of the podium.

The top image clearly shows a car with its windows shattered like a spider web and its doors severely dented.

The scene scattered to the side is frozen in the drainage ditch of the dark alley, with glaring bloodstains still remaining on the carelessly abandoned steel pipes and short knives.

When the reporters' gaze swept over the last photo of the scene, everyone could clearly see Miyazawa Shinko being forcibly put into a police car by patrol officers, the flashing red light of the police lights shining on his pale, paper-white face.

The commotion in the venue suddenly escalated. Haruki Kadokawa's voice, booming through the microphone, pounded on everyone's eardrums: "This is called attempted robbery? A dozen thugs, armed with weapons, were lying in wait in the back alley, specifically waiting for Iwa-kun to show up!"

"This is called an accidental act while drunk? Then I'd like to ask the Metropolitan Police Department, when did Tokyo's drunks become so organized and disciplined, even knowing to specifically target an author who just exposed a financial scam?!"

This barrage of questions plunged the entire room into silence. Even the reporters in the back rows were so shocked that they couldn't sit still, their notebooks rustling as they flipped through them.

At this moment, Haruki Kadokawa's gaze swept across the room again, and he said, "Personally, Kitahara Iwao is a friend I greatly respect. Publicly, he is Shinchosha's ace; the better his books sell, the greater the pressure on Kadokawa Bookstore in the market."

"If I were standing here today simply because my friend was attacked, I could easily settle scores with those scoundrels in my own way. But my decision to hold this press conference, which is open to the entire nation of Japan, is not merely to defend a personal friend, nor is it to promote my competitors."

"It's because this matter has completely crossed the line of modern civilization and the publishing industry."

"If a realistic novel offends certain high-ranking officials, it will likely trigger tax raids and banks cutting off loans."

"With books pulled from shelves and even knives handed to them on the street, what literary bottom line is left in the Japanese publishing industry?"

"Everyone might as well shut down the editorial department as soon as possible and switch careers to printing propaganda brochures that whitewash the truth for those in power!"

Haruki Kadokawa pointed to the newspaper on the podium and said firmly, "I don't care whether Kitahara Iwao's economic judgments in the book are accurate or not. If it's right, time will prove it; if it's wrong, readers will abandon him."

"But no one can answer the market's questions with a knife! Today they can whitewash Kitahara Iwa's attack as an attempted robbery, tomorrow they can portray any writer's forced silence as voluntary, and the day after tomorrow they can forcibly portray the entire nation's fear as stable market confidence!"

"The entire publishing industry must never back down on this line! If we back down even one step, our editors will have to ask themselves this question with trepidation before every book goes to print—"

"Will this line of text anger the bank? Will this chapter get the IRS knocking on our door in the middle of the night? Will this novel lead to our author being ambushed by gangsters on his way home?!"

When the last sentence fell heavily, the huge hall was silent except for rapid breathing and the deafening sound of camera shutters.

The reporters completely abandoned their composure. Some rushed frantically to the public phone outside the door, some squatted on the ground writing until the nib of their pen almost broke, and several photojournalists even crossed the cordon and shoved their lenses into the bloody photos of the scene.

Haruki Kadokawa observed the frenzied media mob and finally said, "This is the kind of news you should be writing today. Stop using the phrase 'attempted robbery' to insult everyone in Japan who can still read Chinese characters!"

Less than half an hour after the press conference ended, Haruki Kadokawa's wild remarks, like oil on a hot flame, completely broke through the official blockade.

Major news agencies rushed to publish the news, local newspapers urgently reprinted it, and television stations even cut directly to the press conference during their midday news.

After 3 p.m., the storm swept to the bookstore terminals.

The atmosphere in Tokyo's bookstores has changed as a result.

The first to react were the independent bookstores with a long history in Jimbocho.

A shop assistant copied the statement from Shinchosha and neatly pasted it onto the cover of "The Collapsing Tower."

Next to the display stand.

In black and white, from publication, the encirclement and suppression, the raid by the State Taxation Bureau to the attack at the alley entrance, each timeline is like a nail of evidence, firmly nailed to the novel.

The owner of an old bookstore even wrote a notice on the blackboard at the entrance: "Standard sales continue today."

After thinking for a moment, he added a sentence heavily in chalk below: "The pages are not afraid of knives."

This silent declaration quickly attracted the attention of passing readers.

Some people stopped and stood there for a long time, while others pushed open the door and entered the store, their first question being whether Kitahara Iwa had been attacked.

The shop assistant didn't offer much explanation, but simply pushed the newspaper and Shinchosha statement from the counter over to the counter.

Many readers lowered their heads to read, and their faces gradually darkened.

Japanese readers tend to have a reserved affection for writers; they don't shout and cheer like they do for entertainment stars, nor do they readily express their respect.

But Kitahara Iwa's importance to them was already extraordinary.

Having won the Naoki Prize, the Akutagawa Prize, the Yomiuri Literature Prize, and the Tanizaki Jun'ichirō Prize, and with his novel "Never Let Me Go" causing a sensation in the English-speaking world, he is already one of the very few literary giants of this era who can depict social realities to the core.

And now, this literary giant, who almost represents the face of contemporary Japanese literature, was almost besieged by yakuza with knives in a back alley.

The impact of this news was far more direct and intense than any lengthy editorial.

"So that 'famous writer' whose name they didn't even dare mention in the newspapers is actually Kitahara-sensei?"

"If it really was just a regular robbery as the Metropolitan Police Department claims, why would they deliberately conceal the victim's information?"

Similar suppressed and angry discussions quickly spread from the bookstore counter outwards.

In the used bookstores of Jimbocho, in the company tea rooms of Marunouchi, and on the crowded platforms of Shinjuku Station, as Kadokawa Haruki's opening of fire and Shinchosha's statement continued to spread, word of mouth spread extremely quickly.

In a metropolis as large as Tokyo, countless news stories of fights and robberies are relegated to the corners of newspapers every day.

But when the casually mentioned text message was linked to Kitahara Iwa's name, everyone suddenly realized that what the authorities had forcibly erased from the paper was precisely the core truth of the whole matter.

Many citizens who were initially hesitant began flocking to bookstores, and the reservation phones at independent bookstores rang non-stop. In the shop window, the owner displayed "The Collapsed Tower," the magazine "New Tide" which published short counter-arguments, and the day's newspaper side by side.

When these three things are placed together, no further explanation is needed; the reader can piece together the complete logical thread in their mind:

The novel exposed financial risks, so the financial world began to openly unite to attack it. When the overwhelming smear campaign still could not stop the novel's sales, the unseen hand of power forcibly intervened, manipulating chain bookstores to jointly remove and ban it. When Kitahara Iwa wrote a short note in "Shincho" to fight back without backing down, the mastermind behind the scenes, having no other choice, finally tore off the disguise of civilization and directly handed out the knife of the Yakuza in the dark alleys of Ginza.

When these words appeared on the same page, the last shred of hope that many readers had completely collapsed.

If Kitahara Iwao's writing in the book was just nonsense, how could things have escalated to the point of resorting to the Yakuza?

If the Ministry of Finance and the bank truly have a clear conscience, why are they relentlessly pushing a writer into a corner?

If that night in Ginza was really just a regular robbery, what is the Metropolitan Police Department afraid of?

By evening, the discussion in the izakaya had completely changed its tone.

Someone slammed the evening paper on the table, their voice low but filled with barely suppressed anger: "Do they really think the entire Japanese population are fools?"

A middle-aged man drinking silently nearby finally uttered a long, drawn-out remark: "They dare to use knives on people of Kitahara Iwa's stature, so what are we ordinary people?"

These words instantly silenced the noisy table.

Compared to the outrage in the literary and publishing worlds, the chill felt by ordinary readers was far more concrete and penetrating.

What came to mind was not grand terms like "literary freedom," but rather the loan agreement they had just signed, the joint guarantee stamped with their personal seal, and the pen that the bank's VIP reception staff had pushed in front of them in the gentlest of tones.

Kitahara Iwa almost got into a bloodbath on the streets of Ginza just for writing these financial scams into novels.

So what are those who are already trapped and truly burdened with huge debts in the eyes of power and capital?

If everything written in "The Collapsing Tower" is false, why is Daizo Sho so eager to stab a writer through the throat?

This question is so straightforward that all official statements about "stable market confidence," "pessimistic literary views," and "ordinary public security incidents" seem utterly hypocritical in comparison.

On the crowded tram during rush hour, countless commuters stared intently at the brief news item on the newspaper.

That news report, which tried so hard to cover up the truth, now seems like a ridiculous joke.

Someone stared at it for a long time before finally folding up the newspaper and stuffing it into their briefcase, looking out the car window with a grim expression.

The glass reflects the bustling night view of Tokyo; the neon lights of Ginza, Marunouchi, and Shinjuku still shine with a dignified and extravagant brilliance.

But this was the first time they had felt so clearly that beneath the city's glamorous exterior, something enormous and ugly had rotted away completely, and Kitahara Iwa was simply the first to peel back that layer of skin.

That night, the name "The Collapsing Tower" spread throughout Tokyo once again with unprecedented intensity.

But this time, when readers talk about it, their tone is not just filled with fear of the economic bubble bursting, but also with rage at being fooled and trampled on.

They finally realized that Kitahara Iwao had not simply written a thriller novel; he was risking his life to tear open the bloody truth for countless people on this land who dared not speak out, could not speak clearly, and had nowhere to voice their opinions.

Therefore, when the Ministry of Finance turned its knife on this writer, almost every citizen subconsciously had the same chilling thought—

That was definitely not just a knife aimed at Kitahara Iwa.

It was also a knife hanging over the neck of each and every one of them.

By 10 p.m. that night, the fire had spread to the television screen.

TV Asahi's flagship news program, "NewsStation," began its live broadcast on time.

However, at the start of the program, Hiroshi Kume, who was sitting at the anchor desk, did not look at the original news program on the teleprompter.

He picked up a newspaper, and the director immediately understood, cutting the close-up shot to the inconspicuous news item in the corner of the social section.

"An attempted armed robbery occurred late at night at the alley entrance; the suspect has been apprehended."

Hiroshi Kume read out the twenty-odd words in his signature calm voice, then looked up and stared directly into the camera.

"This is all the official information released today. It was a routine security incident involving a few frightened passersby whose names weren't even mentioned."

Kume Hiroshi paused, his tone suddenly turning cold and hard: "But in reality, the one who was surrounded by more than a dozen armed yakuza in the dark alley of Ginza last night was Kitahara Iwao, the author of 'The Collapsing Tower'."

As he finished speaking, a photo obtained through special channels was displayed on the large screen in the studio: a car with completely shattered windows and severely dented doors at a dimly lit alley entrance, and blood-stained steel pipes scattered on the asphalt road.

"This was not a robbery, but a premeditated assassination attempt against the writer."

Facing a national audience, Hiroshi Kume ruthlessly exposed the truth the Metropolitan Police Department was trying to cover up, loudly proclaiming: "A political scandal started by yakuza and then forcibly downgraded to a street brawl by a gag order."

"If it was just a routine public order incident, why would the official case file be so quick to hide the victim's name?"

"Tonight's program will discuss a question with everyone: Is it that a novel is written too sharply, or have some of our high-ranking officials become so afraid that they can only respond to the truth with the knives of gangsters?"

With the broadcast of this prime-time news program, Hiroshi Kume's cold and penetrating questions swept through the living rooms of countless people like a sudden storm.

Not only did it tear the white cloth that the Metropolitan Police Department had forcibly covered up the truth to shreds in front of more than 100 million viewers across Japan, but it also spread the news of Kitahara Iwa's assassination attempt by yakuza at the alley entrance throughout Japan overnight.