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Overview
A stock boy is found to have made an expensive Matsusaka cow vanish from the cattle house right before shipment. But the question remains: How and why did the boy make disappear a 700kg cow? [NP] Jukichi is a seasoned fisherman who can row a fishing boat with proficiency and catch an abundance of fish in the traditional way until he comes across nameso, a sea beast. What will happen to the fate of the old fisherman, who has been on the sea for 80 years? [NP] With its bright red pincers kept high above its head, a crab called Aka moves slowly moving along the highway. Can Shinichi, a lonely boy, help Aka reach the sea? [NP] ‘Lost Souls, Sacred Creatures’ features four stories written by award-nominated author Juko Nishimura.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780857281449 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Anthem Press |
| Publication date: | 09/01/2013 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 272 |
| File size: | 1 MB |
| Age Range: | 18 Years |
About the Author
Jeffrey Hunter has worked as a translator and editor for 25 years, specializing in religion, philosophy, art, architecture, and both modern and Edo-period literature.
Read an Excerpt
Lost Souls, Sacred Creatures
By Juko Nishimura
Wimbledon Publishing Company
Copyright © 1988 Juko NishimuraAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-85728-144-9
CHAPTER 1
The Emaciated Cow Demon
1
The first person to notice the disappearance of Kikunogo was Cattle Husbandry Manager Taiichi Hiraga.
Ten heifers were housed in the barn.
They were choice, individually-raised cows.
The stockmen started work at 7:00 a.m. They all had lodgings on the farm, but according to their union contract, they were only on duty from 7:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.
It was before 6:00 a.m. when Hiraga made his rounds.
The choice, individually-raised heifers were scheduled to be delivered to the slaughterhouse in two days.
Matsuzaka Ranch, where Hiraga worked, was one of the few cattle operations in Japan raising large herds of Matsuzaka beef cows. They had more than four thousand head of Japanese cattle.
In that large herd, only ten had been selected for individual raising. But these were very special cattle. Your ordinary animal sold for between one and a half to two million yen, but these special heifers started at several million yen and, in some cases, might go up to nearly ten million yen. They were raised differently, and their meat was different.
They were the standard bearers of the Matsuzaka brand.
One of those heifers had disappeared.
At first Hiraga thought he'd counted wrong.
It was unthinkable that an animal should disappear, so he wasn't actually counting them. While he was checking on their condition, one at a time, prior to their delivery to the slaughterhouse, he somehow had the feeling that one heifer was missing.
He counted, and there were only nine.
That's impossible. He counted again. Nine, same as the first time.
Now Hiraga went pale.
He left the barn.
He looked out at the open fields of the ranch. There was a thin morning mist. No living thing was in sight. No, a few crows were hopping about. They were the only things moving.
The missing Kikunogo couldn't be out in the fields.
He went through all the barns. There were a dozen or so large barns with glass walls. About three hundred cattle were in each barn. Each barn cost more than ten million yen to build. They were all heated and environmentally controlled by computer-operated systems.
The barn for the choice heifers was especially well maintained. There was a lock on the door. There was no way Kikunogo could escape.
Hiraga stood there in a daze for a while.
Then suddenly, as if struck by something, he began to run.
6:40 a.m.
Hiraga discovered that Kikunogo had been stolen sometime during the night.
A small truck used to transport cattle was missing. Following the tire tracks, he found telltale signs that the truck had been driven off with a heifer in it.
Twenty minutes later, he figured out who had stolen Kikunogo. It was Koji Tendo, a young stockman who lived on the ranch.
Tendo was the only one who didn't show up for work at 7:00 a.m. The stockmen, learning of Kikunogo's disappearance, had all made an appearance.
Hiraga searched Tendo 's room.
It was empty.
Reporting the theft to the Mie Prefectural Police, the Matsuzaka Ranch also formed its own search party. They sent more than twenty cars out looking for the truck.
9:00 a.m.
Hiraga was called into the office of the ranch owner, Yasuo Asakura.
"Still haven't found it?"
Asakura was about sixty years old. He was fat, but not jovial — a tightly-wound type. His face was white with rage.
"Not so far ..." Hiraga mumbled.
"This isn't what I expect from you. You hired a cattle thief. This is highly unprofessional."
Asakura was always quick to point out others' failings. He glared at Hiraga accusingly.
Apologizing abjectly, Hiraga excused himself.
He went to the barn.
Hiraga had been working for Matsuzaka Ranch for twelve years. He'd been there in the days when the farm specialized in raising heifers individually. He'd been recognized as a top-rated heifer stockman. He'd devoted half his life to raising Matsuzaka beef, and was now in his mid-forties.
He couldn't deny that though he knew how to judge cows, he was no judge of people.
But no one would ever have expected a heifer to be stolen. Even if you tried, there was no way to get it off the ranch. You could bring a truck, but the heifer wouldn't get on to it voluntarily. It knew very well that the truck was taking it to the slaughterhouse. You would have to push it in from the rear. It would resist, planting its feet. It would shake its head back and forth and low mournfully.
You would have to set a ramp up to the truck bed, cover it with straw matting so the heifer wouldn't slip, and pull from the front and push from the back to load the heifer. And only an experienced stockman could get it to do this.
No one would go through all that to steal a cow.
It was next to impossible to lead a cow away. The Matsuzaka heifers were raised in a special way to fatten them up.
Hogs were raised by keeping them in narrow pens and letting them eat continuously. The pen was too narrow for the animal to even turn around. They put on weight very quickly, but their bones never developed properly. If you let them out of their pens, they couldn't take more than a few steps. The same with broiler chickens.
A similar method was used for Matsuzaka beef. Every effort was made to keep the bones delicate. The idea was to boost the yield. If you let them walk, they easily broke a bone. If they tripped and fell, it was all over.
In short, it was impossible to steal one.
And then, say you did somehow steal one, you'd never find a buyer. No slaughterhouse would take the heifer. If you brought it to one, you'd be arrested on the spot.
Since the very idea of stealing one of the heifers was so unthinkable, Hiraga had never bothered to try to prevent it.
Hiraga called Hideo Hironaka, who was working in a barn, to come outside.
"If you know anything, Hidé, now's the time to tell me."
It was the second time he'd asked Hidé about the incident.
Hideo Hironaka was the oldest stockman on the Matsuzaka Ranch. He was nearly sixty. Everyone called him Hidé. He was a taciturn man. The reason he rarely spoke was that he was clumsy with words. He was short and scrawny. He wasn't the kind who called attention to himself. People didn't know much about him. In the old days, people may have known him better, but now no one was interested. He had no wife or children. He was just an old stockman living on the ranch.
Three years ago, at Hidé's request, Hiraga had hired Koji Tendo, who'd stolen Kikunogo. The boy was a distant relative, his parents had died, and he had nowhere to go. He didn't need a salary at the start; he'd be happy with food, clothing, and a roof over his head.
Hiraga couldn't refuse Hidé, and so he hired the then fifteen-year-old Koji Tendo.
"I'm so sorry ..." said Hidé, lowering his head. His face and his hands were tinged the brown color of manure from decades of cleaning up the shit and piss of cattle.
"Stop repeating yourself," said Hiraga roughly. "If that's all you've got to say, I'll come right out with it: at seven hundred kilos, Tendo couldn't have loaded Kikunogo onto a truck all by himself. It's impossible. Someone helped him. The police will eventually find out. But I want to know first. Who helped him steal Kikunogo, and why?" Hidé was silent.
"Hidé," said Hiraga, lowering his voice,
"Hidé, you helped him, didn't you?"
"Me? I'd never do something like that ..." Hidé shook his head slightly, without lifting his head.
Hiraga gave up his cross examination.
From a common sense standpoint, it would have been impossible for Hidé and Tendo to load Kikunogo on the truck by themselves anyway. Even someone like Hidé, who knew cattle so well.
And there was nothing for him to gain by assisting in the theft.
No one stole something without a motive. The same would hold true for the other stockmen.
"As you know, the day after tomorrow, Kikunogo was scheduled ..." started Hiraga, then he fell silent.
Finishing his sentence wouldn't have made any difference.
Kikunogo was scheduled to be shipped off to Tokyo the day after tomorrow. A major department store had bought it as a live heifer. The final price would be decided after it was butchered and the quality of the meat's marbling was known, but it was expected to bring about six million yen. Matsuzaka Ranch was confident that its meat would be a work of art. When butchered, the beef would sell for about ten thousand yen a kilo. After going through the distribution system, it would be three times that, or thirty thousand yen a kilo. Three thousand yen for a hundred grams.
The department store was buying Kikunogo as a live heifer, so its meat wouldn't go through the distribution system. Their only cost would be the butchering. Their plan was to sell the choicest Matsuzaka beef at a special retail price.
The Matsuzaka Ranch is world famous for its choice Matsuzaka beef.
Most of it is bought as gifts. As December rolls around, lines form throughout Japan in search of choice Matsuzaka beef to give as gifts to favored customers and bosses.
Kikunogo had been born a pedigreed Tajima cow and specially raised for that very purpose.
Now Kikunogo had been stolen by Tendo.
Hiraga looked at his watch. It was 10:20 a.m.
With a dark expression he looked at Hidé's still-bowed head, and turned on his heel.
The situation was hopeless.
No matter where Tendo tried to hide the seven-hundred-kilo Kikunogo, it would only end badly. There was a very high chance that the heifer would fall and break a leg. If he tried to hide it in the mountains, they'd have a hard time bringing it safely back. If it broke a leg it was as good as dead. A heifer that died anywhere but the slaughterhouse would have to be disposed of as waste matter.
November 18. Weak sunlight, a sign of approaching winter, washed over the fields.
2
Kikunogo's whereabouts were not discovered that day.
The Mie Prefectural Police set up a broad dragnet, but to no avail.
November 19, the next day.
Halfway along National Highway 42 from Matsuzaka City to Ki nagashimacho is Odaicho. It's about twenty kilometers from Matsuzaka. The stolen truck was found abandoned on the outskirts ofOdaicho.
The Matsuzaka Police Department dispatched several detectives.
A search team from Matsuzaka Ranch also headed for Odaicho.
The national highway runs parallel to the Kisei Line. The Miyagawa river flows nearby the highway.
It's a mountainous area.
The search began, focusing on the area around the abandoned truck. One road ran through the mountains from there to Iinan County, and another prefectural road went to Oku Ise Miyagawa Kyo Prefectural Park on the border with Nara Prefecture.
The general supposition was that they hadn't gotten far from where the truck was abandoned. The police and the Matsuzaka Ranch search team visited the settlements in the area.
A policeman in late middle age, stationed at the police box near the Matsuzaka Ranch, had been included as a member of the Matsuzaka Police team.
His name was Senji Nakamichi.
Borrowing a bicycle from the Odaicho head police box, Nakamichi rode around the area. Though winter was approaching, he broke a sweat as he cycled from village to village. He had to keep wiping away his perspiration with a hand towel.
As he rode, he thought about what could have motivated Tendo to steal Kikunogo. It was a question for which he could find no good answer. No matter which way you looked at it, there was no profit in it for him. If he stole the heifer knowing there was no profit in it, the only thing left was emotion.
Was there some kind of sentimental attachment between the heifer Kikunogo and Koji Tendo? That was the question. Maybe he took the heifer because he didn't want to see it killed.
Nakamichi posed that question to the people at Matsuzaka Ranch. Their answer was no. There were four thousand cattle on the Matsuzaka Ranch. They were precisely managed by the staff based on the most detailed calculations. There were about thirty stockmen. Thirty stockmen had to care for four thousand cattle. It was a ridiculous question.
It was true that Koji Tendo was in charge of the care of the choice heifers. Kikunogo had been purchased from Tajima at about the time that the young Tendo started working at the ranch. He must have been familiar with the animal. But that was true not just of Kikunogo, but the other nine heifers as well. And Koji Tendo was responsible for the care of cattle other than the choice heifers. The fact was that each stockman looked after more than a hundred cattle.
It was unthinkable that a stockman should come to have feelings for a heifer; it was laughable, impossible.
Matsuzaka Ranch categorically rejected the possibility. They'd said the same thing to the press.
Of course the press came running when it got out that a boy had run off with a Matsuzaka heifer worth six million yen. The reporters peppered the ranch mercilessly with questions.
Was Tendo 's theft of Kikunogo a silent protest directed at the mighty Matsuzaka Ranch?
A protest against low stockmen's wages, inhumane husbandry methods, dosing the animals with antibiotics — that sort of thing?
There were elements of truth in all these accusations. Matsuzaka Ranch enforced a policy of complete secrecy. They refused to allow anyone to inspect their barns. They wouldn't even allow access to the prefectural instructors. One reason was fear of contamination.
Another reason was the desire to prevent their secret fattening methods from leaking out.
Matsuzaka cattle are not actually born in Matsuzaka. They're Tajima cattle, bred in the Mikata County region of Hyo go Prefecture. Tajima cattle are regarded as the best of the Japanese Black breed. All the calves born there are registered with nose prints to identify them. Their pedigrees go back seven or eight generations.
Matsuzaka is just the place where Tajima cattle are fattened for market. There are supposed to be all kinds of secrets to this fattening process. Giving them beer to drink and rubbing them down with shochu are part of it, as is the use of antibiotics and other supplements in their feed.
But these days there's not really much that's secret about how Matsuzaka cattle are fattened. The methods are all widely known. Moreover, individual farmers also raise Matsuzaka cattle. Always eager to improve their methods, they hold annual Matsuzaka cattle shows to advance the breed, and choose the best specimens. Several years ago the winning heifer in one of those shows sold for twelve million yen.
The cattle of the Matsuzaka Ranch aren't special because of some secret fattening methods; they're superior because they're each raised individually. The Matsuzaka Ranch staff are pros at the fattening process, so they're not allowed to take part in the cattle shows. Only farmers who are raising Matsuzaka heifers on the side can participate. That's the purpose of a breed-promotion association.
Since Matsuzaka Ranch cattle aren't shown, no one sees them. Their fattening methods are a mystery, too. But the Matsuzaka Ranch buys most of the prize-winning cows in the shows. Then they sell them, together with their own individually-raised heifers, under the prestigious brand name of Matsuzaka beef.
As a result, consumers immediately think of the Matsuzaka Ranch when they hear the words "Matsuzaka beef." It was no exaggeration to say the control of the brand "Matsuzaka beef" rested in the hands of the Matsuzaka Ranch.
It was, simply put, a very clever business strategy.
As a result, they were disliked by the farmers, who poured their energies into raising their cows and discovering the best ways to fatten them for market, and in the end all their efforts only increased the prestige of the Matsuzaka Ranch.
But more than anything, they resented the ranch's policy of secrecy.
They must be using drugs to fatten their cows — many of the local people had bad things to say about Matsuzaka Ranch.
That was the backstory prompting the reporters' questions.
Matsuzaka Ranch vehemently denied such charges.
Nakamichi had been thinking about all this.
The answer given by the Matsuzaka Ranch people seemed right. It would be impossible for a stockman in charge of over one hundred cows to come to have special feelings for just one animal. Most of his time would be spent shoveling manure. A cow passes two kilos of excrement at a time, a total of six kilos a day. With four thousand cows, that's an enormous amount of cow shit. Today they dry it in kilns and sell it as fertilizer. That was another part of their job.
What, then, was the reason that Koji Tendo stole Kikunogo?
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Lost Souls, Sacred Creatures by Juko Nishimura. Copyright © 1988 Juko Nishimura. Excerpted by permission of Wimbledon Publishing Company.
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