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- Herausgeber: Pushkin Vertigo
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015
A bestselling and internationally-acclaimed masterpiece of the locked-room mystery genreJapan, 1936. An old eccentric artist living with seven women has been found dead- in a room locked from the inside. His diaries reveal alchemy, astrology and a complicated plan to kill all seven women. Shortly afterwards, the plan is carried out: the women are found dismembered and buried across rural Japan. By 1979, these Tokyo Zodiac Murders have been obsessing a nation for decades, but not one of them has been solved. A mystery-obsessed illustrator and a talented astrologer set off around the country - and you follow, carrying the enigma of the Zodiac murderer through madness, missed leads and magic tricks. You have all the clues, but can you solve the mystery before they do? Born in 1948 in Hiroshima prefecture, Soji Shimada has been dubbed the 'God of Mystery' by international audiences. A novelist, essayist and short-story writer, he made his literary debut in 1981 with The Tokyo Zodiac Murders, which was shortlisted for the Edogawa Rampo Prize. Blending classical detective fiction with grisly violence and elements of the occult, he has gone on to publish several highly acclaimed series of mystery fiction, including the casebooks of Kiyoshi Mitarai and Takeshi Yoshiki. In 2009 Shimada received the prestigious Japan Mystery Literature Award in recognition of his life's work.
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Whose dark or troubled mind will you step into next? Detective or assassin, victim or accomplice? Can you tell reality from delusion, truth from deception, when you’re spinning in the whirl of a thriller or trapped in the grip of an unsolvable mystery? You can’t trust your senses and you can’t trust anyone: you’re in the hands of the undisputed masters of crime fiction.
Writers of some of the greatest thrillers and mysteries on earth, who inspired those who followed. Writers whose talents range far and wide—a mathematics genius, a cultural icon, a master of enigma, a legendary dream team. Their books are found on shelves in houses throughout their home countries—from Asia to Europe, and everywhere in between. Timeless books that have been devoured, adored and handed down through the decades. Iconic books that have inspired films, and demand to be read and read again.
So step inside a dizzying world of criminal masterminds with Pushkin Vertigo. The only trouble you might have is leaving them behind.
CONTENTS
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
(in alphabetical order)
FOREWORD
To the best of my knowledge, the case of the serial murders which took place in Japan in 1936—popularly known as “the Tokyo Zodiac Murders”—is one of the most peculiar and most elusive mysteries in the history of crime. No one involved in the case at the time could even imagine such a crime occurring, and finding the murderer—or murderers—was believed to be absolutely impossible.
The precise record of the case had been made available to the public in the hope that the mystery of these murders would be solved. This book opens more than forty years after the incident, when the case still remained an utter mystery.
Readers may like to attempt to unravel the puzzle themselves, just as we—my good friend Kiyoshi Mitarai and I—set out to do on that fateful day in the spring of 1979.
I can assure you that I have included all the necessary clues—the same clues we had to work with.
Kazumi Ishioka
PROLOGUE
Azoth
I am not writing this to be published. However, as it is taking form, I have to consider the possibility that someone will discover it. Therefore, let me start by saying that although this document constitutes my last will and testament, it also happens to be an accounting of my fascination with women. If my work should be found more interesting after my death, such as Van Gogh’s was after his, I hope that those who read this document will understand my final wishes and that my legacy will be extended to generations to come.
Heikichi Umezawa
Friday, 21st February 1936
Last Will and Testament
I have been possessed by a devil, an evil spirit with thoughts of its own. It plays vicious tricks on me. I am in agony. Under the devil’s control, my body is a mere puppet. One night, a huge clam, as big as a calf, appeared under my desk. It extended its foot, slid across my room, and left a trail of mucus on the wooden floor. Another evening, I noticed geckos hiding in my room, their bodies in the shadow of a lattice. I tried to kill them, but found that I was powerless.
One early spring morning, I awoke chilled to the bone. The devil was trying to freeze me to death! In time, my youth left me, and so did my physical strength, allowing the devil to possess me even more easily. Celsus said: “To exorcize the demon from a person possessed, you should starve him. Feed him but bread and water, and then beat him senseless with a club.” In the Gospel of St Mark there is corroboration of this method: “Master,” a parent says to Jesus, “I bring my child possessed by a demon to you. My child occasionally frothed at the mouth and clenched his teeth, and now he is emaciated.”
During my own childhood, I realized I was possessed. In order to exorcize the devil in me, I tried everything I could think of. I found this bit of information in another book: “In the Middle Ages, people burned strong incense in front of someone possessed. When the patient fainted, they yanked out some of his hair, put it into a bottle, and capped it. It was believed that the demon could thus be trapped and the patient allowed to recover his senses.” I begged my friends to try this on me, but they scoffed and called me deranged. I tried to pull out my hair myself, but I fainted from the pain. My friends, watching, thought me either crazy or epileptic.
You cannot imagine what I have been through. I have lost all sense of pride; I have been so overwhelmed that I feel a mere transient in this world. With my person, the devil took the shape of a ball, which must have been akin to the “hysteric ball” of the Middle Ages. Usually it stayed in my lower abdomen. Sometimes it crawled up through the stomach and oesophagus, and then into my throat. This always happened on a Friday. Just as St Cyril described it, my tongue is taut with tension, my lips tremble, and my mouth produces foam. The demon explodes with laughter, and nails are driven into my body. Maggots, snakes and toads emerge before me, one after another; dead men and animals strut around my room; wet reptiles gnaw at my nose, ears and lips. The odour is so incredible it sizzles! Now I understand why reptiles are used in the ceremonies of witchcraft.
Recently, it is rare if they attack; but the thought of them never leaves me. My scars, which are sacred, bleed each Friday. I have begun to indulge in religious exaltations as if I were Catharine Cialina in the seventeenth century or Amelia Bicchieri of Vercelli in the thirteenth century.
The devil is relentless, urging me constantly to obey him. To achieve this end, he has created an almighty woman, a goddess, a Helen of Troy—or perhaps a witch. She appears nightly in my dreams, where all manner of black magic can reside. I ingest medicinal plants, as Plinius prescribed; before I go to bed I take the ashes of lizards, mix them with a fine wine, and apply the concoction to my nipples and over my heart… but to no avail.
While being manipulated like a puppet, I dream of the perfect woman. I am mesmerized by her beauty, her psychic power, her vigour. I know I would be incapable of painting her on a canvas. Would I be able to bear seeing her with my own eyes? My desire is so overwhelming, it is slowly killing me. I would gladly give up my wretched life if this perfect woman were to become a reality.
Following the terminology of alchemy, I shall call her Azoth, which means “from A to Z”—the ultimate creation, the universal life force. She fulfils my dreams completely.
According to my understanding of the human body, there are six different major body parts: the head, the chest, the abdomen, the hips, the thighs and the legs. In astrology, the human body—a bag-shaped object—is a reflection of the universe in miniature. Each part of the body has its own planet that rules, protects and empowers it:
The head is protected and dominated by Mars, the ruling planet for Aries, which Mars also empowers.The chest is the territory of Gemini and Leo, protected by Mercury and also the sun. If I were to substitute the breasts of women for the chest, then they would come under the control of Cancer. The moon rules Cancer.The abdomen is for Virgo, ruled by Mercury.The hips are designated to Libra, ruled by Venus. However, I could substitute the womb for the hips. Scorpio, ruled by Pluto, controls the sexual organs.The thighs are in the territory of Sagittarius, ruled by Jupiter.The legs are Aquarius, ruled by Uranus.As I have said, each of us has a part of our body that is given strength by our ruling planet. Those born under Aries, for example, find strength in their head, and Librans have theirs in their hips. A person’s astrological identity is determined by the alignment of the sun and the planets at the exact moment of birth. One’s sign and correlating part of the body determines who he or she is. No one can be perfect, because everyone has a gift from the ruling planet in only one part of their body. So I thought to myself: if I were to take the perfect head, the perfect breasts, the perfect hips and the perfect legs, and then combine them into a female body, I would have the perfect woman! She would be a goddess. And if I were to put six virgin parts of the body together, their combined beauty would be supreme.
Thereafter, my only focus in life was this goddess, and, as fate would have it, what one concentrates on usually manifests itself. One day, I realized that six virgins of different zodiacal signs were living near me—my daughters and nieces! I chuckled to myself at life’s so-called “coincidences”, grateful for my knowledge of astrology. My knees grew weak as my fantasies assumed a reality.
People may be surprised to hear that I am the father of five daughters. The eldest one is Kazue, followed by Tomoko, Akiko, Tokiko and Yukiko. The three eldest ones are stepdaughters from my second marriage, to Masako. Tokiko is from my first wife, Tae, and Yukiko is my daughter with Masako. Tokiko and Yukiko were born in the same year. My wife Masako, who used to be a ballet dancer, teaches ballet and piano to our daughters, and Reiko and Nobuyo have joined them. These two girls, who moved out of their small house to live with us, are the daughters of my younger brother Yoshio.
Kazue (Capricorn, born 1904) has lived alone in her own house since her divorce. So there are now these six young women in my house: Tomoko (Aquarius, born 1910); Akiko (Scorpio, born 191 Yukiko (Cancer, born 1913); Tokiko (Aries, 1); also born 1913); Reiko, one of the nieces (Virgo, also born 1913); and Nobuyo, Reiko’s sister (Sagittarius, born 1915).
Thus, I found my fate sealed. The devil was telling me to sacrifice these young women. Kazue (thirty-one) is much older than the others, so I excluded her from the group. I would take the head from Tokiko, the chest from Yukiko, and the abdomen from Reiko. The hips would come from Akiko, the thighs from Nobuyo and the legs from Tomoko. Then I would fashion these parts together to make one woman. It would be desirable if the hips were from a Libra and the chest from a Gemini virgin, but one cannot be so greedy. Since Azoth is female, her chest can be represented by breasts and her hips by a womb. Because the devil is generous, I know my plan will work!
I shall follow the rules of alchemy strictly, however, in order to create eternal life. The six virgins will serve as metallic elements, and I will refine these base metals into gold. When my work is accomplished, blue sky will appear through dark clouds, setting me free from agony and torture.
Ah, how my body trembles! I want to see what Azoth will look like! I want to see my thirty years of devotion bear the fruit of my diligence. This shall be my art from the devil’s workshop. Throughout history, no one has ever had the same idea as mine—a Black Magic Mass, a philosopher’s stone and all the sculptures ever made in an attempt to capture the beauty of women would all pale before Azoth.
Of course, the six young women will have to die. Their bodies will be cut into three pieces (into two in the cases of Tokiko and Tomoko). Azoth will be constituted of the selected pieces, and the rest of the bodies properly disposed of. The young women will die, but their body parts will live on for ever in Azoth. If only they could know why they must die, I am sure they would be satisfied with their fate.
I shall proceed in accordance with the principles of alchemy:
I should start my work while the sun is in Aries. Tokiko, who offers her head, is an Aries. Thus, she should be killed by , which stands for Mars and also represents iron in alchemy.Yukiko, who offers her chest, is a Cancer. Thus, she should be killed by , which stands for the moon and also represents silver in alchemy.Reiko, who offers her abdomen, is a Virgo. Thus, she should swallow to die. The symbol stands for Mercury and also represents mercury in alchemy.Akiko, who offers her hips, is a Scorpio. Its ruling planet is , Pluto today. But I would follow the tradition of the Middle Ages, so will be desired for her death.Nobuyo, who offers her thighs, is a Sagittarius. Thus, she should die of , which stands for Jupiter and also represents tin in alchemy.Tomoko, who offers her legs, is an Aquarius, which has Uranus as its ruling planet. In the Middle Ages, however, Uranus had not yet been discovered, so was used. Thus, Tomoko can die of , which stands for Saturn, and also represents lead in alchemy.I will purify their bodies and mine with a mixture of wine and an assortment of ashes. Next, I will remove the desired body parts from each young woman with a handsaw. These parts will be carefully assembled onto a carved wooden cross on which I will create Azoth. I could use nails to affix Azoth to the cross—in the same way Christ was—but I do not want to incur damage from the nails. The body I will decorate with small lizards, as it is said in the oracle of Hecate. Then, I shall prepare the “hidden fire”. Hontanus interpreted the term as an actual fire, as did many alchemists… only to see their experiments fail. “Hidden fire” or “fire that burns without flame” really refers to a certain kind of salt and incense. To this mixture is added the flesh of a sheep, a cow, an infant, a crab, a lion, a virgin, a scorpion, a goat and a fish—all astrological symbols. Frogs and lizards will be added as well. And I will prepare the type of furnace that alchemists call an “athanor”.
I will intone from an invocation written in the ancient Philosophoumena of Origen of St Hippolytus:
Viens, infernal terrestre et céleste Bombô,
déesse des grands chemins des carrefours,
toi qui apportes la lumière, qui marches la nuit,
ennemie de la lumière, amie et compagne de la nuit,
toi que réjouissent l’aboiement des chiens et le sang versé,
qui erres au milieu des ombres à travers les tombeaux,
toi qui désires le sang et qui apportes la terreur aux mortals,
Gorgo, Norno, lune aux mille formes,
assiste d’un oeuil propice à nos sacrifices.
The mixture will then be removed from the furnace and sealed within a “philosopher’s egg”. It will be incubated until it becomes a panacea. With this panacea, each part of the body will be glued to form a whole, to become an eternal life. And when the perfect woman appears in the light, I will become an adept.
This is the “magnum opus” of so-called “Alchemy”. It is often referred to as witch’s work, even though it cannot be denied that alchemy contributed greatly to the progress of chemistry, just as astrology was the foundation of astronomy. I think it is absurd that people should deny the significance of their ancestors’ beliefs. The goal of alchemy is more profound than what many people may think today: its aim is to embody the true nature of things, such as “supreme beauty” or “supreme love”. Our consciousness tends to be vulgarized by daily life. But through the process of alchemy, we can purify our soul and rise above worldly things. In the East, Zen is the correspondent to this. The true aim of alchemy is the creation of an “eternal circle” or universal relief.
Some people have attempted to create gold with alchemy, but more likely this was done as a joke or a trick. Many have searched in underground mines for the “first element”, but elements are not necessarily metal or mineral. Paracelsus said: “You can find it everywhere, and children are playing with it.” My belief is that it resides in the bodies of women. Where else could it be?
I am well aware of my reputation as a lunatic. I may be different from others, but that is what makes me an artist. Art is not to copy the work of another; real art exists only in difference. Although it would be easier, I could never follow in the footsteps of someone else. I prefer to make my own path! I am not a violent man, but I admit to extreme excitement when I witnessed the dissection of a human body for the first time. I am unaccountably attracted to the distortion of human bodies. I love seeing a dislocated arm, and how a dying man’s muscles go through changes. I wish I could have a chance to draw such things. I am sure that many other artists share my leanings.
Now I want to tell you about my past. I discovered the marvels of astrology when I was a teenager. Astrology was not common in Japan back then, and the man who introduced me to it was the first astrologer in Japan. My mother had learnt of his reputation and desired his insight. I was reluctant to go with her, but she took me along. As I watched this fortuneteller in action, I was astonished. He could see into a person’s past as well as their future! I was fascinated, and later I became his student. Originally, this man had come from Holland as a missionary, but he had been dismissed because of his negligence towards his mission. From that point on, fortune-telling became his sole work.
I was born in Tokyo at 7.31 p.m., on 26th January 1886. My sun is in Aquarius, and my ascendant is in Virgo, which is ruled by Saturn. Therefore, Saturn, the symbol of my life, holds my destiny. It was Saturn that guided me to alchemy. Saturn represents lead, one of the basic chemical elements. This understanding caused me to believe that alchemy would hone my craft. Saturn implies challenges and perseverance. The fortune-teller told me that I would struggle with my inferiority complex all my life, and that I would suffer from poor health, especially in childhood. I was advised to be careful of getting burnt. His advice was correct, if unheeded. In elementary school, I fell on a brazier, and my right foot was severely burnt. I still have the scar.
The fortune-teller also predicted that I would be involved in an illicit love affair; and, in fact, I have two daughters born of different mothers in the same year. He also predicted marriage complications: although my Venus is in Pisces and, therefore, I am naturally attracted to Piscean women, I would in fact marry a Leo, and my family obligations would increase when I was twenty-eight. Tae, my first wife, was in fact a Pisces. I took to painting ballet dancers, influenced by Degas. Masako, a married woman, was one of my models. Almost by force, I made love to her. We had an affair, and Yukiko was born—at around the same time that Tae gave birth to a daughter. I divorced Tae and took custody of the baby, Tokiko. Then I married Masako. This all happened when I was twenty-eight!
Today, in Hoya, Tae sells tobacco at the house I purchased for her. At the time of our divorce, I was concerned about Tokiko, who would live with the other girls in my home. But she seemed to get along with them without any problems. Twenty years have passed since the divorce, but still I feel guilty about Tae. If Azoth becomes the masterpiece of my life, I intend to give the fortune I will make to Tae to assuage my guilt.
My horoscope, according to the fortune-teller, also suggested a tendency towards secrecy and loneliness, and the possibility of being locked up in a hospital or an institution—in other words, I would spend a life apart from others. And today, in fact, I seldom see my family, who live in the main house. I spend most of my time in my studio, which I converted from the old storehouse in the backyard.
I have two planets—Neptune and Pluto—in the ninth house, which is rare. Moreover, planets in the ninth house have a greater influence than planets in other houses. The latter half of my life has been dominated by these planets. The ninth house implies mystical power and a fascination with paganism. The fortune-teller said I would become involved in witchcraft and roam foreign countries. He said that, given the movement of the moon, my departure from Japan would occur when I was nineteen or twenty years of age, and that the trip would mark a turning point in my life. As it turned out, I left for France at the age of nineteen, and it was there that I was drawn to mysticism.
I had not given myself over to astrology, but everything the fortune-teller said came true. I even tried to go against his prophecy, but to no avail. My family seems also to be manipulated by fate—especially the women, who have had little luck in love or marriage. Tae is divorced from me, and now that I have chosen to kill myself, Masako will be widowed soon. My mother failed in her marriage, as did my grandmother. Kazue, Masako’s first daughter, was recently divorced.
Tomoko is now twenty-six, and Akiko twenty-four. They live in the spacious main house and are close to their mother. If necessary, they can make a living by teaching piano and ballet, so they have the option of remaining single. With tensions between Japan and China heightening, young men will soon be drafted. Masako dislikes soldiers, and she will see to it that her daughters remain virgins.
Everything seemed to be going along fine, but then Masako and her daughters started having ideas about doing something with the family property, which has a total area of 2,400 square metres. They kept barging into my studio, urging me to build an apartment building. “You can do whatever you want after I die,” I told them.
It is not really fair to my brother Yoshio that I control the Umezawa family land just because I am the eldest son. He and his wife have always been welcome to live in our main house, but they have politely declined my invitation even though their daughters moved in. Perhaps there is incompatibility between Masako and Ayako, Yoshio’s wife. If an apartment building is built after I die, however, Yoshio and Ayako would gladly live there, saving money that would otherwise go to rent elsewhere. Anyway, I am the only one who is consistently opposed to this plan. Masako—the ringleader—and her daughters have become frustrated in the extreme. I worry that if this situation continues they will cause me bodily harm; perhaps they will poison me. Recently, I have been thinking a lot about Tae. She is a modest, obedient woman; she does not excite me, but she is an angel compared to Masako.
The reason I keep turning them down is my love for my studio, which is in the north-west corner of the yard. After I inherited this property in Ohara—in Meguro Ward in Tokyo—from my mother, I renovated the old storehouse and made it into a studio. I spend most of my time here. It’s surrounded by trees, so my privacy is protected. If we built an apartment building, the studio could be left as it is, but the trees would have to be cut down. My studio would no longer be a hideaway. How could I concentrate on my work with tenants coming and going around me? It would be impossible.
Ever since I was small, I have loved the gloom of this storehouse. It is where I often played. My preference for closed-in spaces did not change until recently. In order to get more light into the studio, I had two large skylights put in. For security, I put iron grilles under them. I put grilles inside the windows on the ground floor, too. I love the skylights. In afternoons in autumn, I can see leaves falling onto the glass. The grille and falling leaves create shadows on the studio floor that look like musical notes. They are so beautiful that I am moved to sing my favourite songs—‘Isle of Capri’ and ‘Orchids in the Moonlight’. I also installed a bathroom and a kitchen. I sleep alone on a military bed. It has casters, so it can be rolled anywhere I want in the room.
I took out the first floor, doubling the height of the ceiling, and the studio became very spacious. Now I can store large paintings and the space also allows me to view my artwork from a distance. Because they faced a stone wall, the windows on the north and west side of the studio did not get much light, so I sealed them. Now I can stand paintings against the walls. I have eleven large paintings standing there now. They are part of my series called “The Twelve Signs of the Zodiac”. The sketch for the twelfth, Aries, is almost done. I will start to create Azoth very soon. When I complete her, I will depart from this world for ever.
I went to Paris in 1906. I was young and restless. Japanese tourists were scarce back then. My meagre knowledge of French deepened my loneliness, and I felt as if I was the only man living in the world when I took a walk under the moonlight. As my language ability gradually improved, my loneliness lessened and I began to feel more comfortable. I began to visit the Latin Quarter. Autumn in Paris was stunning. I loved the rustle of fallen leaves being blown by the wind, and the contrasting colours of the leaves were very beautiful against the grey stones. The curtains drawn around my heart slowly parted to reveal the dramatic stage set of Paris.
I discovered the works of Gustave Moreau. I remember the gold plate bearing the inscription “14” on his house in Rochefoucauld Avenue. I added him to my list of greatest artists, along with Van Gogh. Moreau influenced me tremendously.
One day in late autumn, at La Fontaine de Médicis, one of my favourite places, I saw a young woman. In the cold air, the trees were extending their bare branches under a dark sky. They reminded me of the blood vessels of old men. Winter was just around the corner. What I didn’t realize at first was that spring was right there in front of me, leaning on the metal handrail and deep in thought. Realizing that she was also Asian, I walked up to her. She looked timid. I sensed the same kind of shyness that many Japanese girls have, but I could not be sure. She might have been Chinese. However, she seemed relieved to see me. Taking a chance, I spoke in French, saying it seemed that winter was on its way: “On dirait que l’hiver arrive.” In Japan, one would rarely approach a stranger this way, but speaking in a foreign language made me bolder. She didn’t seem to understand me. With a look of depression, she shook her head and started to leave. I decided to ask if she was Japanese: “Kimiwa nihonjin desu ka?” She stopped and turned back, and her sullen expression turned into a beautiful smile. We fell in love immediately. Her name was Yasue Tomita.
After that, we met each other every day, and our loneliness turned into true happiness. In winter, there were always vendors selling roasted chestnuts near the fountain. “Chaud, chaud, marrons chauds!” they would cry. Yasue and I would often buy some chestnuts and then try to imitate the vendors, falling into each other and laughing as if we were drunk.
Yasue was born in late November in the same year as me, but because my birthday is in January she was almost a year younger. She had also gone to Paris to study art, so she must have come from a wealthy family like myself. We returned to Japan together several years before Europe was overwhelmed by the First World War. I was then twenty-two. We thought we would marry, but our plans didn’t materialize. Life in Tokyo was not the same as our romantic days in Paris. Yasue filled her days socializing with old friends, and eventually the modern girl’s attentions turned away from me. We didn’t see each other for a while. I heard later that she had married.
When I was twenty-six, Yoshio introduced me to Tae and we got married. He was at Tokyo Metropolitan University, and he happened to know her because she worked at a kimono shop nearby. Although the introduction was very casual, I decided right away I would marry her; I was so lonely after my mother’s death. I had inherited her property, so I must have seemed a good catch for Tae, although women never spoke of such things back then.
Ironically, several months after I married Tae, I ran into Yasue in Ginza, holding her son’s hand. She told me she was divorced and owned a cafe gallery in Ginza. “And guess what!” she said with a grin. “It’s named after a memorable place.” “La Fontaine de Médicis?” I said immediately. “Yes!” We both smiled. After that, Yasue became the one and only dealer of my paintings. My work didn’t fetch much, but Yasue always encouraged me to use her space for exhibitions. I had several shows there, but the results were not very good. I think it was because I had chosen not to enter competitions and had few prizes on my curriculum vitae, and I was not an aggressive businessman. I painted Yasue whenever she visited my studio, and I always included paintings of her when I showed at “De Médicis”. Yasue was a Sagittarius, born on 27th November 1886. Heitaro, her son, was a Taurus, born in 1909. Sometimes Yasue would imply that I was his father. She might have been kidding, but it could have been true. In fact, she used the same kanji character “hei” from my name for his name. If Heitaro really was my son, it would have been destiny!
I would say that my taste in art is rather conservative. Abstract painters like Picasso and Miró have never appealed to me particularly. But I love Van Gogh and Gustave Moreau. I suppose my taste is rather old-fashioned, but I prefer art that gives off strong energy in a direct way. If a painting has no energy within, then I feel it is just a piece of canvas smeared with paint. In that sense, I suppose I have to admit some of Picasso’s works do have energy and I admire them for that. I also think that Fugaku Sumie, who throws his body against a canvas, is rather good. However, I believe that creation of any good art has to be done with a certain amount of technique. If you just fling mud at a wall and call it art, I would maintain that a young kid could probably do better.
To me, so-called “avant-garde” art is very mediocre compared to what we see in real life. I would rather look at a traffic accident—I can see explosive energy in the skid marks of the tyres and in the blood splattered on the road. The thin white chalk lines are a quiet contrast to all that brutality.
I like sculpture, but I have never found abstract sculpture very interesting. I want sculptures to look real. I suppose that is why I am more attracted to dolls than modern sculptures. I found a very attractive woman when I was young. Actually she was not a human but a mannequin in the window of a boutique near Tokyo Metropolitan University. I was infatuated with her. I went to see her every day, sometimes five or six times a day. When I went into town, I always made a detour to see her. This went on for a year. As the seasons changed, I saw her in summer dresses, winter coats and spring blouses. I wanted to ask the shopkeeper if I could buy her, but my shyness wouldn’t allow me to do such a thing.
I called her Tokie, because she looked like an actress I adored who had that name. I grew obsessed with Tokie. I dedicated poems to her. Her face was always in my mind. And I drew portraits of her from memory. That was really the beginning of my life as a painter. I would stand just to the side of the shop window and pretend I was watching the unloading of raw silk at the wholesale store next door. Secretly, of course, I was staring at the doll. She had frizzy brown hair, delicate fingers, and slender legs that I could see below the hem of her skirt. Her face had a certain elegance. Even now, I can recall exactly what she looked like.
One day, I happened to see Tokie naked while the shopkeeper was changing her clothes. My knees trembled and I almost fainted. No other woman has ever left me feeling that way. The experience had a tremendous effect on my sexuality. Female sex organs covered with pubic hair lost all their attraction. And I began to prefer women with coarse, curly hair. I also started taking an admittedly perverse interest in mute girls and female corpses.
But my love affair with Tokie came to a sudden end. One warm spring morning, when I arrived at the boutique, she was gone from the window. My feelings could not be put into words. I was heartbroken. It was 21st March, and the cherry blossoms were about to bloom.
I’m not so fond of noisy nightclubs filled with cigarette smoke, but recently I started going to a bar called “Kakinoki”—the Persimmon Tree. I enjoy talking to one of the regular customers; he is, in fact, the owner of a mannequin factory. One day, after a few drinks, I told him about my love affair with Tokie and he kindly invited me to visit his factory. But there was no doll like Tokie to be found there.
Probably nobody could understand my feelings towards Tokie. She was very special, and no other doll could compare to her. She was like a precious pearl, whereas all the others were mere grains of sand.
My first daughter was born on 21st March—the same date that Tokie disappeared. So I called her Tokiko. It had to be fate: Tokie had been reincarnated as a human being called Tokiko. I was convinced that Tokiko would look more and more like that doll as she grew up. However, she was not blessed with good health.
As I write this, I am astonished to see where my ideas come from. Tokiko is my favourite child. I wanted her to have a perfect body, and so my subconscious must have suggested that I create Azoth. Perhaps my love for Tokiko is something more than a normal father’s love. People born under the sign of Aries tend to be cheerful and vigorous, but Tokiko’s birthday is close to the cusp of Aries and Pisces. I think that is what causes her mood swings. When I see her depressed, I think of her delicate heart condition and then my love for the poor child surges.
I have often used my daughters as models, sketching them half-naked. Tokiko is rather skinny and has a birthmark on the right side of her belly. When I first saw how thin she was, I regretted she did not have a perfect body to match her very pretty face. I don’t mean that her body is inferior—in fact, come to think of it, I suppose Tomoko, Reiko and Nobuyo are all even thinner than she is. But since Tokiko—along with Yukiko—is my real daughter, I have always wanted her to be perfect.
Several years ago, I visited Europe again. I didn’t find the Louvre very exciting, so I took a trip to Amsterdam to see an exhibition of the work of André Milhaud. I was so overpowered by his work that for a while I could not go back to my own. It could be titled The Art of Death. In a deserted building that once housed an aquarium, he had constructed several tableaux. Among them was the corpse of a man hanging from a pole, and the corpses of a mother and daughter abandoned on a street. Their bodies were rotting, and the stench was terrible. The corpses were fake, of course, but I didn’t realize that for a whole year. Their faces were distorted by fear, and their muscles were wrenched with the agony of death. The most shocking exhibit was a man dying in water. His hands were handcuffed behind him as another man shoved his head underwater. There were tiny bubbles coming out of the drowning man’s mouth. This was taking place in a glass case, lit from the inside.
I could think of nothing to measure up to Milhaud’s work, let alone surpass it. After spending a whole year producing nothing, I decided to create Azoth. I decided that nothing but Azoth could supersede his work!
Nobody will know where I create Azoth, but I must be careful of dogs. They can hear the screams of the dying. Humans cannot pick up a sound when its frequency exceeds 20,000 cycles per second, but dogs can. In the aquarium of Milhaud’s exhibition, I saw a lady with a Yorkshire terrier in her arms. Its ears trembled as it listened to the sounds of death.
The place for the creation and assembly of Azoth will be determined by mathematical calculations. I could do this work in my studio, of course, but it would be very suspicious if six young women disappeared suddenly. The studio would obviously come under investigation. And even if the police didn’t suspect me, Masako could come to the studio. Therefore, I must have another venue for this work, somewhere I can store my creation. So I have bought a house in the countryside at a very good price. However, because this document may be found before my death, I dare not mention the exact location. I will only say that it is somewhere in Niigata Prefecture.
I will leave this note next to Azoth. After her creation, the parts of the girls’ bodies that have not been used should be delivered to various locations that relate to their respective zodiacal sign. The ideal correlation will be a place where a specific metal is mined. For example, gold relates to Leo, iron to Aries and Scorpio, silver to Cancer, and tin to Sagittarius and Pisces. Thus, the remains of the bodies will be disposed of as follows:
Tokiko (Aries), in a place that produces ironYukiko (Cancer), in a place that produces silverReiko (Virgo), in a place that produces mercuryAkiko (Scorpio), in a place that produces ironNobuyo (Sagittarius), in a place that produces tinTomoko (Aquarius), in a place that produces lead.Once the bodies have been returned to where they belong, Azoth will emerge with supreme power. Then the magnum opus shall be completed!
I am creating Azoth not only for myself, but for the sake of the Empire of Japan. The country has followed a misguided path, and our history is marred with unfortunate incidents. Lest Japan be destroyed, we must assume the responsibility of our ancestors. The day approaches. Azoth shall guide us. Azoth shall save our nation.
In ancient times, the Goddess Himiko reigned over our country. Her realm of Yamatai was glorious. Astrologically, the islands of Japan belong to Libra, where people tend to favour social gatherings. The Japanese people believed in God and loved feasts and festivals. However, when Korean forces overpowered Japan and Confucianism was imported from China, our people changed. Their souls lost their freedom and they became self-suppressive. Then they imported Buddhism from China, but that didn’t take root, either. What the Japanese learnt was not real Buddhism, but Buddhism as misinterpreted by the Chinese. We should revert to what this country was originally—an empire ruled by a goddess.
