The Clout of Gen (7 page)

After a moment, John needed to rest his spinning head, trying to grasp it all. He plopped down on the only chair in the room. He asked Yaturo, “Who are you, Yaturo? How did you know all these people back then…when they were little? Does this mean all their fame and fortune has nothing to do with their own capabilities? Were they given some kind of mystic upper hand to achieve their successes?”

“Not at all,” replied Yaturo, “but I knew they were going to be something one day. It was easier for me to take their photos before they became too big and famous! It was a hobby of mine to meet them and record my visits, back when I first got the knowledge, anyway,” Yaturo continued.

John’s head was still spinning. “But…how do you know all this? How is it possible? How could you possibly have knowledge of…well, of everything?”

“It was passed on to me,” said Yaturo. “Without that, I know nothing.”

“Passed on to you by whom?” John asked, raising his brow and his voice.

“I think we should leave this room now. We are finished here,” Yaturo said. He began moving out of the room, and he had a file in his hand.

Although he hadn’t gotten all of the answers he wanted and the room had really only served to spawn more questions, John was relieved to be leaving the small space. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic. The whole topic was troubling, to the point of making him feel nauseous and lightheaded. He began to wish he’d never found the damn box, never met those Bulgarians, and never entered the stock market. It was all far more than he expected, and he didn’t expect it to hit him so hard. His brain was drained, and he felt numb. “I appreciate all you’ve shown me, Mr. Hitari,” he said politely, “but is there any way we could resume our talk at another time? I need some rest and a chance to clear my head a bit.”

One of Yaturo’s house staff showed him to his room. John asked not to be disturbed. What he needed was some rest and silence. He promptly fell asleep with a lot on his mind and his suit still on his body.

It was dark by the time John awoke from his nap. He found his bag unpacked and some towels folded on the dresser. He took a warm, soothing bath and went right downstairs.

Yaturo was in the garden, admiring the full moon and its reflection on his lake. “It’s an artificial lake,” he said to John, “but it contains over thirty species of fish. We get our fresh seafood here. Did you have a good rest?”

John nodded, yawned, and stretched, still trying to fathom where he was, where he’d come from, and all he’d heard.

Smoking a pipe, Yaturo said, “By the end of the day, you will have a clear picture of the whole matter and how it all began. For now, let’s enjoy some dinner. You will need all your strength.”

Snakehead mudfish fillet was served: two fried fillets pieces, along with steamed vegetables on the side. The meal was delicious, which came as no surprise to John, who’d already reasoned that Yaturo had impeccable taste in everything. After two glasses of white wine, they were finished. John did notice that Yaturo hardly ate anything at all, and he found that a bit strange.

With a file in his hand, Yaturo led John to the garden terrace on the fourth floor. John had noticed how beautiful it was when they’d first arrived at the palace, but up close, it was even more spectacular. It offered a full view of the front gardens, as well as the fountains below. There were several large sculptures and a mosaic wall of a heavenly garden. It was no wonder Yaturo had chosen that place for their talk because it seemed to be a heavenly place; the peaceful ambiance would ease John’s volcanic feeling.

Yaturo started talking about his childhood, his family business, and his interests, all of which John was already aware because of his thorough research. Yaturo had been born to a rich family of business owners. He explained to John that despite his love for his father and the family business, the two had a very different vision. Yaturo had always been a very ambitious man, an initiator, while his father tended to play it safe. Yaturo’s father was quite content with what he had and didn’t bother to put much effort into reaching the next level.

Yaturo also bragged about being a leader in college and was proud of the profound influence he’d had on his colleagues. He was the head of several student clubs, and he traveled to different areas of Japan to promote them and increase membership. He was a strong believer in the youth movement.

After college, with his degree in hand, he began to handle some of his father’s businesses. He wasn’t afraid to take chances, and that led to a rocky on-again/off-again relationship with his father. To avoid further clashes, Yaturo decided to continue his master’s in the States. Upon completing those advanced studies, he returned to Japan. He was more mature, experienced, educated, and driven, and he promptly forced himself into the higher echelons of his father’s business.

Yaturo had no shame in going on and on about himself for more than two hours, but John was happy to listen intently. ”On May 18, 1967, my life changed forever,” Yaturo announced. “It was the grand opening of our steel factory, a factory I had convinced my father to start up. I outlined the benefits of it and showed him how profitable it would be in a short period of time, and he finally listened to me.”

“The steel factory was monumental for you?” John asked, trying to understand.

“Well, it wasn’t the factory that changed my life. Rather, it was what happened the day of its grand opening. The factory was crowded with reporters, guests, and governmental officials because it was the opening of the biggest steel factory in Asia. It was a landmark for Kyoto and for Japan in general. We had planned for the opening for weeks, and it was catered by the finest company in Kyoto. It was a truly amazing, extravagant event, and cameras were everywhere. I had never been so proud, but I had a feeling it was only the beginning of something much grander. The years that followed proved that to be true…far more than I could have imagined. Everything went perfectly as planned, and everyone was impressed with the tour of the factory facilities. The reporters and journalists flocked to the news conference, and everyone knew their role and played their part.

“While I was enjoying the moment, I was approached by a gentleman that—to this day—I wish I’d never met. He congratulated me, and we talked for a few minutes about the factory and the effect it would undoubtedly have on the economy in general. I could tell from his accent and his clothing and appearance that he was eastern European. He was tall, with an athletic build, in his early thirties. He had dark black hair and very glowing blue eyes. In fact, I couldn’t help but stare at his eyes because I had never seen such bright blue eyes before. He asked if we could talk somewhere alone and claimed he had something extremely important to tell me. Naïve as I was, I took him to my office on the upper floors of the factory while everyone else was busy mingling outdoors. Looking back, I should have been suspicious, because he was reluctant to say who he was, though he did tell me his identity wasn’t important.

“He seemed even stranger when he began to talk. He mentioned the importance of having the power to control events, to influence people to make the right choices for the betterment of mankind. He told me how good the world would be if the politicians really chose what would be best for the population and businessmen strived to improve the economy. He went on and on, and I was confused about the relevance of it all to me or the opening of our steel factory. I really didn’t understand what he was implying, what this control was that he talked about. I was convinced that I had wasted my time. I was angry at myself for deserting my guests to talk to a madman. Nevertheless, since I’d agreed to speak with him, I decided I would let him finish.

“The more he talked, though, the more uncomfortable I became. When he noticed how distracted and uncomfortable I was, he finally took an envelope out of his coat and told me to have a look at it. He said that if its contents convinced me of the truth of his words, I should meet him at the Kiyomizu-dera Temple three days later, at two p.m. He left the envelope on the desk and stood to leave. I politely took the envelope, folded it, and placed it in my suit pocket. I then showed him the way down and returned to the crowd and the festivities to enjoy the fruits of our success.

“I totally forgot about the envelope the next day, as it was a busy day, being the first official day of work at the factory. Everything was hectic, and I didn’t want to risk any mistakes being made. Concentration was of utmost importance. I was running around the factory checking one thing after another, and it was an exciting but tiresome day.

“When I finally returned home at around eight p.m., I took off my suit and was just about to hang it up when I noticed the envelope sticking out of the pocket. I grabbed it and opened it just out of curiosity. Inside the envelope were three pages. The first two contained the numbers of the Nikkei stock market, and the third was a report of the results of a Tokyo horserace. I checked the papers again and noticed that stock reports contained figures for that day and the next as well. I quickly called one of our financial advisors and asked him about the day’s market prices. I couldn’t believe it, but every detail matched what was written on the pages the blue-eyed stranger had given me the day before. I thanked the stockbroker and told him I would pay him a visit the next day to check on the figures again. The next day was conclusive. The strange man’s predictions came out to be 100 percent correct.

“I booked an urgent flight to Tokyo that same day to catch the races at the Fucho track. There I was, sitting in Tokyo watching a horserace when it was the second day of operation for our new steel factory. I could hardly believe it myself. I had left all my work behind. I wasn’t much of a racing fan, but I had to know if the results held true. They did.

“At that point, questions began flying around in my head. Who was that guy? And how did he know what the exact outcomes would be in the stock market and on the racetrack? Is he into something…something strange, or were the events predetermined, fixed somehow? Truly, John, the questions I had are probably the same ones you are asking yourself now. I took it as calmly as possible, and there was nothing that would stop me from meeting him at the temple the next day. I wanted answers, just as you do,” added Yaturo.

John recalled what he’d read about the temple in his research. Kiyomizu-dera Temple dated back to 798 and was one of the UNESCO World Heritage Sites of ancient Kyoto. It took its name from the waterfall that ran down from the surrounding hills; in fact,
Kiyomizu
meant “pure water.” It was considered a main attraction in Kyoto.

Yaturo went on, “I went to the temple to meet the stranger, just as he instructed. I got there about fifteen minutes early, but exactly at two p.m., the stranger arrived. He was dressed in a more casual way this time, with big black sunglasses that concealed his blue eyes, as well as a large portion of his face. He looked paler, and it seemed he hadn’t shaved since the last time we’d met. He was wearing a long navy-blue button-down shirt that was a bit tight, revealing his muscular physique. On his legs were brilliant white trousers, and he carried a sports bag on his back.

“The first thing he said to me was, ‘How much money did you make from the horses, Hitari?’ and he started laughing from behind the toothpick that he had hanging from his mouth.

“I was very offended. Who the hell did the guy think he was? I wasn’t in the mood for any jokes, and I quickly told him that I would be informing the police that he was involved with a match-fixing scandal of some sort.

“The stranger laughed again and began speaking in a louder voice. ‘I am going to help you change the world, Hitari. Don’t waste my time with the police.’

“I told him I was serious and that I didn’t want to be part of anything illegal. ‘I will turn you in,’ I said.

“He then replied, ‘It’s no use, my friend. I don’t even exist. I haven’t been born yet.’

“My heart nearly stopped beating when he said that. I could hardly breathe. He gave me some water and bought us the entry tickets, and we went inside. I hadn’t expected that at all, and again I had so many questions. Was the guy telling the truth? Was he from the future? Did they really find a way? Before I even said a word,” Yaturo said, “the blue-eyed man seemed to read my mind. With all the confidence in the world, he said, ‘Hitari, you are a physicist. You know that with advancements in science, this is all very possible, and it has happened. I can tell you of events that will occur seventy years from now.’

“I began shaking when he told me that. I couldn’t believe science had finally figured it out, but be seemed certain of it. He then asked me to follow him to the main hall of the temple, the part known in the old days as the place where the leap of faith was done. It was said that if one had a wish and desired it to become true, one should jump thirteen meters. If the jumper survived, the wish would be granted. The stranger said to me, ‘Hitari, this is your leap of faith. It’s your choice. You have the control, and you can change things for the better with what I can give you. I will approach one person only, and I have decided that that person should be you.’