Kenichi Sakuragawa inherited his love for archeology from his father. When Kenichi was a child, the elder Sakuragawa, a professor of archeology at Osaka University, brought him along on digs in Hokkaido, Nara, and Kamakura. Unlike other boys, Kenichi was never bored by the mounds of dirt and tedious digging for broken pottery. Instead, he listened, fascinated as his father held each shard of pottery they unearthed and explained how it expanded their knowledge of the living and working habits, religious beliefs and societal structure of Japanese that lived thousands of years ago.
Kenichi had been born in Sakai, an industrial suburb in the south of Osaka, and was raised in the same house that his father had grown up in after Kenichi's grandparents fled from Tokyo. The town was rich with history; within walking distance of their house were scores of ancient tombs. His father took Kenichi on walks through the town, explaining what archaeologists had discovered inside the mysterious artificial hills, but each time, as they neared home and passed the Nintoku Tomb Park, his father struggled to contain his frustration.
"Why won't they at least let us take pictures inside?" he muttered each time. The tomb was believed to contain the remains of Emperor Nintoku, who ruled during the fifth century. As a direct ancestor of the Imperial family, the Imperial Household Agency maintained control over the land and asserted that the grave was not to be desecrated, even by scientists. The huge, keyhole shaped tomb was surrounded by three rings of bell shaped moats. No one aside from Imperial Agency guards were allowed to cross those moats.
In the living room of their house was an aerial photograph of the forbidden tomb. Kenichi stared at the photograph, pondering the significance of its strange shape. A round pyramid with its top chopped off was attached to a triangular pyramid with its top also cut off, producing the keyhole shape when viewed from above.
Scientists couldn't understand the significance of the distinctive shape, nor were such tombs found anywhere else in the world. His father would always add, "And we'll never know if they don't let us inside the tomb."
Kenichi's devotion to archeology continued while in college. He decided to obtain dual degrees in both archaeology and history, and during that time, considered continuing on to graduate studies, but unlike his father, Kenichi wasn't so much interested in the field work, the process of obtaining knowledge through tedious digging in dirt and dust for the small shards of fired clay that could shed light on previous civilizations. Rather, it was the knowledge itself that kept him constantly fascinated; the advancement of civilizations through epoches, through different modes of thinking, changing morals and religious concepts. Above all, it was the mystery of Nintoku's tomb that he wanted to understand.
The idea first came to him near the end of his sophomore year as a wild daydream during a lecture on the history of the Imperial family. He didn't consider it seriously; it was too outrageous, its chances of success too microscopically thin. But the solution to the Nintoku mystery was his goal, his dream, and when he finally realized that he could not escape, it became his destiny, with his ridiculous idea seemingly the only possibility for success.
He began his attack by preparing a false name and background. His father's name was too well known among those familiar with archaeology to plead the innocence so necessary to his plan. Even Kenichi's own major in archeology was enough to destroy any chance for success. Instead, he arranged with his best friend, Ryujiro Yodogawa, to "borrow" his name.
The two students were of the same age and similar heights and builds. Kenichi made copies of Ryujiro's identification with using his own photographs. Access to Ryujiro's personal seal as well as the reluctant consent of Ryujiro's father created a foolproof identity. He was prepared for the next step - application for a job in the Imperial Household Agency.
The Agency was a quasi-government body that managed the affairs of the Imperial family. Much of their work included arranging schedules and security for the Emperor and his family, as well as managing the palace and other properties that they owned. The agency contained its won historians and researchers, press agents and photographers, as well as general office staff much the same as white collar workers at other ministries and corporations. It was to one of these positions that Kenichi applied.
The competition was intense - thousands of college seniors, most of whom had ties to the Imperial Family or the former aristocracy applying for only a few opening in the agency. Nevertheless, with Kenichi's knowledge of Japanese history, he survived the written exam and qualified for an interview. There, his intelligence, personality, and drive impressed the board, and though they wondered why someone of his caliber was not applying for a position in the Ministry of Finance or Foreign Ministry, they quickly offered him a job.
Kenichi and Ryujiro celebrated late into the night at an izakaya pub located beside the grounds of the Nintoku tomb. But when Ryujiro asked Kenichi how he planned to use his position to gain entry into the tomb, Kenichi admitted that he had no real plan. "Somehow, some way, I'll get in there, and when I do, I'm going to tell the whole world what's inside."
* * * * *
All fifty-three new hires were trained together starting at the beginning of April and lasting for two full months. They were required to memorize thousands of names, dates, Imperial Household traditions and regulations, poems, and songs. During that time, they lived together, ate together, drank together, bathed together, and slept together. He gradually became used to being called Ryujiro.
He also met Imari, and fell in love with her. She was pretty, with long, straight shiny hair and a small dimple when she laughed, but also had imagination and talent, setting her apart from the other girls who were chosen for their looks and who had joined the agency in order to find a rich, well connected husband.
Kenichi struggled to find ways to get close to her, sit next to her, talk with her. Over the course of the training session, they became friends, but unable to break free from the group, he had no opportunity to get closer to Imari.
When training finally concluded and job assignments were posted, Kenichi was heart-broken. Not only would his assignment in purchasing for the Akasaka palace keep him from any contact with the Nintoku tomb group, but his office in Akasaka kept him apart from Imari who was posted to the Personnel department in the agency headquarters in downtown Tokyo. While the rest of the group was celebrating the completion of the training program, Kenichi returned to the dorm room alone and stared at the cinder block wall, wondering if he had made a mistake. He was no closer to Nintoku now then before. He considered quitting and returning to university. His only consolation was that job rotations occurred every two years, and as he developed contacts, opportunities might appear. The plan could still succeed, but required nearly infinite patience. Still, Nintoku was his only goal, and if he stayed, there would be occasional opportunities to see Imari again.
He decided to stay, and did have the opportunity to meet her nearly once a month. There were formal and informal meetings of the training class, and whenever he was sent over to the headquarters on business, he would drop by her office. Once such evening, Imari was preparing to leave the office for dinner with the other members of the office from the training class and they invited him along.
Although seated at the other end of the table from Imari, and involved in a conversation with the acquaintance next to him, he thought he could hear her saying "Nintoku." He listened carefully, and over the din, heard his father's name being cursed by Fukuda, the man seated across from her. Kenichi controlled his desire to punch Fukuda, but needed to know what they were talking about and needed to find our carefully or risk losing everything.
He excused himself to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, less to wash away the effects of the beer than to have an excuse to sit down on the other end of the table upon returning. He stopped next to Fukuda and said, "I heard you mention Professor Sakuragawa. He's a real troublemaker. What's he doing now?"
Fukuda didn't seem anxious to talk, but drunk enough to do so anyway. "He's organizing the World Archaeological Congress to put international pressure on us to open the Nintoku tomb."
Kenichi had heard of the motion from his father, but wondered why the personnel office would be concerned with it. "Because it might just work, that's why," Fukuda cryptically explained.
All night, Kenichi wondered why the personnel office would be involved. He called his father, but he had nothing to add other than that the delegates at the international conference were preparing to ask member nations to revoke the visas of Japanese archaeologists performing research overseas. Japan would be forced to react.
But how could that effect the personnel office of the Imperial Household Agency, and why were they being secretive, Kenichi wondered as he lay in bed, unable to sleep. It required no new personnel if they didn't plan to open the tomb, nor should it require additional personnel to open it - the scientists could do it themselves. Unless . . . Unless what? Unless they planned to take everything out of it first.
With the conference taking place the following week, they would have to open it before then. They might even be working on it already. They could only work at night, after the surrounding park was closed.
He debated what to do. He considered taking the first bullet train to Osaka in the morning, then using his agency credentials to talk his way into whatever was being done, but badge or no badge, they would realize that his name was not on the project list and check with headquarters. His only hope was to get onto that list.
He looked at the clock. Nearly midnight. He had no choice but to make the phone call. The telephone rang more then ten times before a groggy voice answered.
"Imari, I'm sorry to wake you but I need to talk with you."
"You're drunk."
"No, just crazy. Do you mind if I come over to your place?"
"My parents will get angry."
"Then meet me outside in twenty minutes."
"Why?"
Kenichi wondered how to answer. If he told her the real reason, she would never agree to meet him. "Because I'm in love with you," escaped through his lips. He hadn't intended to say that.
He heard only silence on the other end until finally she said, "I'll be waiting."
* * * * *
During the taxi ride, he tried rehearsing his lines. What could he tell her? How would she react?
When he arrived, Imari was sitting outside the house by the Japanese garden watching the fish. Even devoid of cosmetics, she looked as radiant as ever.
"You don't look as drunk as you sound."
"Can we go somewhere quiet?"
She motioned around them. The streets were deserted except for an occasional taxi whizzing by. The only sounds were those of the few cicadas still alive in the early autumn. She led him to a nearby park.
He didn't know what to say to her, so he told her everything - about his father, his goals, and his feelings for her. When he was finished, she put her hand in his and kissed it. "I knew you were different the moment I first saw you."
Then she told him about the plan, or as much of it as she knew. One hundred laborers, mostly construction workers, were being hired in Osaka for one night the following week. Twenty five of the best trained guards were being sent down with machine guns to watch over them. Five top level managers would supervise the guards.
"I have to get in there."
"Impossible."
Kenichi thought hard. "What's your role in this?"
"My boss is hiring the workers. I'm just putting the data into the computer to check their backgrounds and transfer the money into their bank accounts."
"Maybe there is a way," he said.
"I know!" she said. "I'll notify one man that his background check didn't pass and substitute your name, but I don't know how you'll ever pass for a construction worker." Imari paused in thought. "And if we're caught, we'll both be in jail for a very long time."
Kenichi raised his hand to his heart. "I give you my word as a Japanese that not only everything that I've told you is the complete truth, but that I love you."
He leaned over to kiss her. His lips met hers as they embraced. "Does this mean you'll do it?"
"I'll do it." She put her hand in his soft hands. "But it will never work. Promise me that you'll think about me every day while we're in jail."
* * * * *
Dressed in a dark hat and clothes bought at the surplus store and stained with various soils and household chemicals, Kenichi strutted through the Nintoku Tomb Park that he knew so well. He fingered the miniature camera hidden in his pocket. Ninety-nine other men in similar outfits had assembled, all stronger and more weather-beaten then Kenichi. Once the park was closed and checked for stragglers, the machine gun laden guards appeared and surrounded the crowd of workers. Credentials were matched against the name list. They examined Kenichi closely, comparing his face to that on his driver's licence. One supervisor said, "He don't look much like a construction worker," and the guns pointed at his head seemed to draw closer.
"Go to hell, you," Kenichi yelled back in his roughest, most incomprehensible Osaka dialect.
The other workers cheered. "Okay everybody, let's go," the supervisor ordered.
Despite the moon-less night, the park remained unlit. Only a flashlight lit the way through the tress and across a makeshift bridge that carried them over the moat. The entrance was sunken into the ground and camouflaged by leaves. Only the sound of portable generators disturbed the silence. The creaky steel door was pried open and they began to file inside.
Once inside, Kenichi discretely looked about. A large, ceramic coffin engraved with designs sat on a pedestal that occupied the center of the room. Gold coins and trinkets lay in heaps about the room along with pots, water jars, and other decorative pottery, all intact, as well as the bones of horses and other humans.
But it was the walls that left Kenichi agape. The walls were covered in paint that hadn't faded in fifteen hundred years that showed hieroglyphic like designs. They would mean nothing to a layman, but Kenichi could read the story written onto the walls and finally understood the significance of the mysterious keyhole shape, understood the origin of the myth of Amaterasu Omikami, the sungoddess who descended from the heavens in ancient times to create the dynasty of emperors that still rules Japan, and understood why he was surrounded by twenty-five guards bearing sub-machine guns and being commanded by officers of the Imperial Household Agency to destroy the record preserved for eternity on those walls. The Emperor was descendent from a race of aliens.
There would be no mummy inside the casket, no corpse at all. The tomb was only a landing base for the shop that would return him to his homeland. The moat not only hid and protected them, but provided cooling water for the ship.
"Get to work," one supervisor yelled at him. The workers were ordered to sandblast the drawings from the walls.
Kenichi recalled his father's and his own desperate desire to see the inside of this hall, his own indignation in the name of science, history, and knowledge at being kept out. He remembered the vow to Imari on his honor as a Japanese and the support she had given him despite the danger. Then he remembered the spy camera hidden inside his shirt. But he took one last look about, then without touching the camera, picked up the sand blaster and began working with all his strength to remove the record of history from the stone walls.
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