Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Chapter 190 Citizens: We must protect Kitahara-sensei!

The following morning, the Metropolitan Police Department was forced to hold an emergency press conference.

It could be called a press conference, but it was more like an interrogation under the spotlight.

According to internal arrangements, the Metropolitan Police Department originally intended to use a few platitudes to quell the matter.

The case is under investigation, the suspect has been apprehended, the victim was traumatized but did not sustain serious injuries, and social order is stable. The media is requested not to over-interpret the situation.

The press release in the spokesperson's hand even used the same wording as last night, characterizing the incident at the alley entrance as "attempted armed robbery".

If it were yesterday morning, this line of reasoning might have worked.

But things are different now.

Hiroshi Kume pointed out the nature of the "premeditated assassination" on a prime-time program.

At the press conference, Haruki Kadokawa showed photos of the damaged vehicle, the scattered murder weapon, and the suspect being taken away.

Shinchosha presents the complete timeline of "The Collapsed Tower" to the public.

Several publishing houses, literary magazines, and bookstores have also spoken out.

By this morning, the social affairs reporters sitting in the audience no longer only had the ridiculously short report from the Metropolitan Police Department.

The press box was already filled with various documents.

Photos of the shattered car window, Shinchosha's public statement, the transcript of last night's NewsStation live broadcast, and even information about the suspect, Shinko Miyazawa's, yakuza background were all dug up and firmly held in the hands of this group of media people overnight.

When the Metropolitan Police Department spokesperson reluctantly stepped onto the stage, he was met with a barrage of cold, aggressive stares from the audience, and his heart sank instantly.

The usual perfunctory and submissive attitude of waiting to copy official press releases had completely vanished. The entire press area was filled with a sense of excitement and oppression, as if they had smelled blood and were ready to pounce and tear flesh apart at any moment.

Meeting the gaze, the spokesperson cleared his throat and, feigning composure, read from the paper: "Regarding the attempted armed robbery that occurred last night in the Ginza area, the police have apprehended several suspects at the scene and are currently investigating the case according to law—"

However, before he could even finish reciting this set of meaningless official jargon, the first hand in the audience had already been raised without hesitation.

"Why was Mr. Kitahara Iwa's name omitted from the police report?"

The first to launch an attack was a reporter from the social affairs department of the Asahi Shimbun.

Faced with such an unexpected start, the spokesperson could only bite the bullet and offer the prepared statement: "Out of consideration for protecting the privacy of the victims, the police have not yet released relevant information in the initial report."

However, the other party refused to buy into this bureaucratic rhetoric and immediately pressed further, saying, "Mr. Kitahara Iwa has confirmed the attack through Shinchosha, and Kadokawa Haruki has also publicly named him. Is the police's so-called protection of privacy actually a deliberate attempt to downplay the nature of the case?"

Amidst the rapid scratching of pens across paper in the meeting room, the speaker's expression stiffened slightly.

Before he could even steer the conversation back to the safe zone, another reporter had already stood up impatiently.

"The suspect was carrying a steel pipe and a short knife; the vehicle was severely damaged; and the victim was clearly in mortal danger."

"Why does the police still insist on using the term 'attempted robbery'? What exactly did the suspect steal? Were there any witnesses or physical evidence at the scene who demanded money back?"

The barrage of questions came down without giving the spokesperson a chance to catch his breath, making the thin press release in his hand seem ridiculous and superfluous.

The spokesperson lowered his head and flipped through the pages, trying to regain the official tone: "Regarding the specific motive, the police are still conducting further investigations—"

"Since the motive is still under investigation, why was it immediately classified as attempted robbery last night?"

A reporter in the back row suddenly asked a question.

After he finished speaking, a brief silence fell over the room.

The spokesperson swallowed hard and forced a reply: "This is a professional assessment based on the initial situation on the ground."

"Which preliminary information?"

Reporters in the front row immediately chimed in, asking, "Were those scattered steel pipes and daggers? Was it a meticulously planned ambush in the alley? Or was it a dozen thugs simultaneously surrounding a single vehicle?!"

The density of questions began to increase exponentially.

Initially, Metropolitan Police Department staff tried to maintain order, constantly reminding reporters to ask questions in order, but the situation below the stage was already on the verge of spiraling out of control.

The media's anger, which was forcibly suppressed by the official press release last night, finally erupted here and now after Haruki Kadokawa and Hiroshi Kume successively tore open the cracks of the truth.

Soon, the truly crucial questions began to unfold.

"Mr. Kitahara Iwao was just subjected to a surprise tax audit by the National Tax Agency, and Shinchosha is also facing a complete blockade from banks and distribution channels. Has the police investigated the connection between this physical attack and the aforementioned financial crackdown?"

Upon hearing this, the spokesperson's face visibly darkened, but facing a large group of reporters, he could only offer the most conservative diplomatic language: "The police have not yet obtained sufficient evidence to prove a direct link between the two."

"Is the police investigating this connection?" The question followed relentlessly.

The spokesperson paused for half a second before vaguely replying, "The police will confirm the relevant details in accordance with the law and based on the progress of the case."

This attempt to cover up the truth immediately sparked a mocking commotion in the audience.

Immediately afterwards, a weekly reporter specializing in social news stood up.

He skipped over the topics of Kitahara Iwa and Shinchosha, and went straight to throwing a dangerous name at the podium.

"Has the police confirmed that the suspect, Shinmitsu Miyazawa, has maintained close ties with yakuza organizations for a long period of time?"

The spokesperson's eyelids twitched involuntarily before he spoke, "The police are not at liberty to disclose any information regarding the suspect's personal background at this time."

The weekly magazine reporter completely ignored this pointless official jargon, and directly held up a copy of the company registration information that had been obtained overnight, slamming the confirmed evidence heavily onto the podium: "If the police can't disclose it, then we'll ask about the publicly available criminal records."

"According to the Legal Affairs Bureau's data and past social media records, the so-called consulting company under Shinmichi Miyazawa's name has been violently handling land disputes for real estate companies in the Kanto region for many years. His subordinates have also been repeatedly involved in vicious debt collection and forced demolition threats against ordinary citizens."

He held up the copy in his hand, his gaze fixed on the speaker's face on the stage, and posed the final, pressing question: "To the Metropolitan Police Department, how could a yakuza boss who makes a living by doing dirty work for financial institutions and asset management companies last night lead a group to ambush a writer who had just exposed the dark side of finance?"

"Faced with such irrefutable evidence, are the police still going to forcefully explain to the entire nation that this was merely a simple attempted robbery for financial gain?!"

When this well-reasoned and evidence-based question, which directly linked gang leaders to financial capital, was posed, the entire press conference erupted in chaos.

Faced with this irrefutable evidence, the spokesperson's expression turned extremely ugly.

His original bottom line of "robbery by unemployed individuals" was directly breached, and amidst the deafening sound of camera shutters, he could only awkwardly change his story, saying that "the police are reconfirming the suspect's organizational background."

This statement immediately discredited the official characterization of the crime as "ordinary robbery."

Even before the press conference ended, a large number of reporters rushed out of the venue to send out breaking news.

The Metropolitan Police Department then attempted to salvage the situation that afternoon by releasing a new narrative to the media that the suspect was retaliating due to losses in his personal real estate investments, trying to forcefully attribute the incident to the gang leader's erratic behavior.

However, the media, already thoroughly enraged, completely ignored the official, illogical narrative.

Within half a day, a social weekly magazine followed the clues and uprooted a fatal financial chain.

Investigations revealed that just two days before the attack on Kitahara Iwa, a shell transportation company under Miyazawa Shinko's name suddenly received a so-called "consulting fee" of up to 30 million yen.

The company that made the payment—"Glory Asset Management"—ostensibly operates a non-performing debt disposal business in an inconspicuous commercial building in Shinbashi, with a clean and impeccable financial record.

In reality, it is a "white glove" operating outside the official system, specializing in handling dirty work that cannot be brought to light, such as violent debt collection and forced clearing, for those glamorous financial giants.

Reporters continued to probe upwards along the financing trail of this asset management company, and the core financier behind it soon surfaced: a credit guarantee company deeply intertwined with the housing security system.

The company's largest partner is none other than a major bank affiliated with the Sumitomo Group.

The flow of funds is far more honest than any fabricated confession.

Once this blood-stained account was exposed, the Metropolitan Police Department's sophistry of "lower-level yakuza individuals losing control" instantly became riddled with holes.

Because this 30 million yen did not come from street gang fundraising at all, but from real money flowing out of financial institutions disguised as legitimate businesses.

At this point, the white cloth covering the "attempted robbery" was torn away, and the media and the public's attention exposed the capitalist wielding hidden behind the ruthless blade.

From gangster thugs to front companies, and further up to housing agencies and Sumitomo Group capital, this undeniable chain of interests firmly links "The Collapsing Tower" with the murder weapon in the dark alley.

Everyone clearly realized that it was the truth revealed in the book that stung certain vested interests, forcing them to resort to extreme measures in an attempt to physically eliminate Kitahara Iwa, who kept speaking out.

This blatant and violent crackdown has not deterred the public as the higher-ups had hoped; instead, it has allowed the flames of collapsed trust to spread far and wide.

For the first time, the people truly felt that the capitalist behemoth depicted by Kitahara Iwa was far more corrupt and bloodthirsty than they had imagined.

By 3 p.m., traffic on the entire street below Kitahara Iwa's apartment building had come to a complete standstill.

The spontaneously arriving crowds have long since transcended the scope of "readers." They have come together to form a true cross-section of this country, which is under the heavy burden of the times: construction company employees who have not yet changed out of their work clothes, Marunouchi office workers carrying briefcases and looking exhausted, middle-aged housewives who have taken a two-hour train ride from the outskirts of Kanto, and even small and medium-sized business owners wearing old suits and with gray hair.

Hundreds of people blocked the sidewalks and driveways in front of the apartment building, yet surprisingly, there was not a single commotion.

Countless hands were raised high in the crowd.

What they were clutching tightly was not just the book "The Collapsing Tower" with its black background and white text, but also their future, which they had just realized was completely trapped by capital.

Among the crowd, someone with red eyes held up a joint guarantee that had only recently been stamped with their personal seal and had even exhausted the credit of two generations of father and son.

Some people are clinging tightly to their high-value mortgage contracts, which could become their death warrant at any moment after this year's continuous interest rate hikes.

These debt terms, originally packaged by banks as "gateways to upward mobility," now form the most chilling evidence of the blood-stained financial corruption in the novel.

The simple slogans written on the paper, such as "The pages of the book are not afraid of knives" and "Refuse to be buried with capital," are like long spears piercing Xiaguan in the dark sea of ​​people.

The police cars that were ordered to maintain order were like machines stuck in gear, unable to move an inch in the face of this silent and oppressive sea of ​​people.

When a dozen police officers attempted to set up a cordon and forcibly disperse the crowd with their usual official shouts, dozens of young college students in the front row immediately stepped forward.

Completely ignoring the threat of the police batons, they stood shoulder to shoulder, tightly linking arms, instantly forming an impenetrable human wall around the apartment with their flesh and blood.

Despite the police's rough pushing and stern warnings, the human wall did not budge an inch.

Hundreds of cold, hard eyes swept across the police line, fixing their gaze on the uniforms representing the official apparatus.

At this very moment, these ordinary people, who finally woke up on the eve of the bubble's collapse, are using their only possession—their bodies—to build a fortress that even the sharpest blades of the underworld and the iron fist of power cannot shake for the literary giant who tore away the illusion of prosperity for them.

At 2:30 p.m., the internal communicator of the Kitahara Iwa apartment suddenly rang.

The supervisor on duty sounded tense, barely concealing his tension.

"Mr. Kitahara, a large crowd has gathered downstairs, and the number is still increasing."

"Police have sent patrol cars to try to disperse the crowd, but dozens of young students have formed a human wall outside the gate, and the situation could get out of control at any time."

The supervisor paused for a moment, then quickly presented the security plan: "To prevent any accidents, we recommend that you immediately evacuate through the dedicated passageway in the underground parking garage."

Kitahara Iwatsu walked to the floor-to-ceiling window with the receiver in hand, looking down at the sea of ​​people blocking the street below and the blinding police lights flashing all around.

Kitahara Iwa asked, "What are they doing gathered here?"

The supervisor on the other end of the communicator swallowed hard and quickly replied, "Judging from the surveillance footage, they definitely didn't come here to cause trouble."

"Many people were holding your book, 'The Collapsing Tower,' and some were holding signs to protect Kitahara-sensei."

"The group of students outside the gate are blocking the police's way—they seem to have come to protect you on their own initiative."

Upon hearing this answer, Kitahara Iwa remained silent for a moment.

These people are neither journalists nor a student group organized by anyone.

Inside were office workers in suits, housewives carrying shopping bags, and elderly people with gray hair.

They stood outside the police line, pushed back by the police, but never dispersed.

Kitahara Iwa knew that he could certainly leave through the underground passage.

This is the safest and most convenient way.

But the people downstairs had already placed their bodies in front of the police.

They didn't come to watch the spectacle; they came to protect themselves!

If I were to leave through the back door at this moment, those people downstairs would be left alone in front of the police and the media.

Thinking of this, Kitahara Iwa said, "I'll go out through the main gate."

At 3 p.m. sharp, the tightly closed glass doors of the apartment lobby were pushed open without warning.

The crowd, which had been tense and locked in a standoff with the police, fell into a deathly silence the moment they saw the figure walking out of the gate.

When the writer, who was at the center of the media storm, finally appeared, the tense standoff on the scene instantly came to a halt.

Several police officers who had been waving batons and loudly warning the crowd to back off stopped pushing and looked at him with some surprise.

As Kitahara Iwa descended the steps, the noise on the street gradually subsided.

The college students in the front row stood arm in arm in front of the cordon, their faces showing a tense, almost stubborn expression.

Behind them, some held up "The Collapsing Tower," some clutched "New Tide," and others held crumpled loan contracts and guarantee letters.

Kitahara Iwa stopped at the bottom of the steps.

At this moment, the flashes on both sides kept going off.

The police officers stood on either side, their hands on their batons, their faces even more grim than before.

"Everyone."

When Kitahara Iwa opened his mouth, his voice was not loud.

But by then the street had quieted down, so everyone could hear clearly.

"I'm alive."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, followed by someone with reddened eyes calling out, "Teacher Kitahara!"

Kitahara Iwa looked in that direction and nodded slightly.

"I'm sorry to have worried you these past few days."

After saying this, Kitahara Iwa bowed deeply to everyone.

Then Kitahara Iwa's gaze fell on the college students who were blocking his way.

The young men stood stiffly, their arms clasped even tighter, as if Kitahara Iwa would be taken away by the police the moment they let go.

Kitahara Iwa looked at them for a few seconds, then suddenly said, "Don't waste your energy here."

The college students were stunned for a moment, and the crowd fell silent as well.

Kitahara Iwa took a step forward.

The police officers instinctively tensed up, but Kitahara Iwa simply stopped inside the cordon and looked at the documents being held in someone's hands.

"You can't stop the bank's debt collectors from standing downstairs at my house."

"Unable to stop the supplementary guarantee notice from the housing authority."

"That can't stop the interest that's already written into the contract."

After these words were spoken, many people in the front row looked down at the papers in their hands.

Someone's fingers tightened slowly as they held the loan documents.

Kitahara Iwa continued, "Those people who came to me with knives the night before last were really scary."

"But the knife can only cut once at most."

"The contracts you have are different."

Kitahara Iwa pointed to the stack of documents in a middle-aged man's arms and said, "It comes once a month. When you get your salary, when your children need to pay tuition, or when an elderly person in your family is hospitalized."

"It doesn't roar, nor does it swing a steel pipe."

"It just lies quietly in the bank's filing cabinet, slowly eating away at your lives."

The streets fell completely silent.

The reporter, who had been trying to push forward, momentarily forgot to ask further questions.

Kitahara Iwao looked at the group and continued, "I am very grateful that you are standing here."

"But I want you to go back."

A college student in the front row couldn't help but shout, "But Professor Kitahara, we're afraid they'll continue to attack you!"

'

Kitahara Iwa glanced at him and said, "They're after me, and they won't stop just because you're standing here."

The college student opened his mouth.

Kitahara Iwa's tone softened slightly: "If you really want to help me, go back and find your own loan contracts."

"Find out the scope of the joint and several guarantee, the triggering conditions for additional collateral, and whether banks will continue to recognize your existing asset valuation once land prices really start to fall."

Kitahara Iwa paused briefly before offering the most practical advice.

"Forget the platitudes from bank clerks and TV experts. Take the documents you've signed and ask them for clear answers, point by point, until they can no longer fob you off with terms like 'long-term value.'"

In the crowd, a middle-aged woman suddenly looked down and opened the documents in her hand.

The paper rustled in the wind.

Her husband, who was beside her, wanted to say something, but in the end, he just stared silently at the few pages of densely packed clauses.

Looking at this scene, Kitahara Iwa continued, "I am very grateful for everyone's willingness to stand up and protect us today."

"But I wrote this book because many people can't see the knife behind those words."

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"Now that you've seen the truth, there's no need to waste your energy on me anymore. Go keep an eye on your own contracts."

As these words fell, the college students in the front row finally completely let go of each other's arms.

The human wall that had been locked in a stalemate for a long time began to naturally disintegrate from the center outwards.

The people silently put away their books and documents, and dispersed silently and orderly along the streets in the cold wind.

The police officers had just been about to move in to disperse the crowd, but seeing this scene, they froze in place, unsure whether to make a move or not.

Kitahara Iwa didn't say anything more. He stood in front of the apartment and watched the crowd slowly retreat to both sides of the street.

The reporter's camera captured the entire scene.

By evening, the words Kitahara Iwa uttered at the apartment entrance were featured in the evening news on major television stations.

"The knife will only be used once at most, but the contract will be provided monthly."

This sentence was taken out of the newspaper.

Someone copied it down on the university bulletin board with a thick pen.

The small bookstore in Jimbocho displayed it next to "The Collapsed Tower".

The next day, someone went to the bank counter with the contract, pointed to the terms and asked, "What exactly does 'additional collateral' mean here?"

The sales clerks, who used to be all smiles, instantly froze on their faces.

Meanwhile, in the Sumitomo Bank headquarters building, the atmosphere in the conference room was as cold as a stagnant pool.

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