Chapter 32: Kazuma Kiryu? The Yakuza Cast Joins My Film

Page 1 of 3

Chapter 32: Kazuma Kiryu? Everyone from Like a Dragon, come join my movie!

Kazuma Kiryu had once been a highly promising yakuza. Before he was thirty, he had already become the Kazama Family’s ace enforcer and deputy lieutenant.

But after the head of the Kazama Family was murdered, the dying words of the boss who had been like a father to him urged Kiryu Kazuma to give up the yakuza life.

With the Kazama Family destroyed, Kiryu Kazuma withdrew from the underworld and became an ordinary man.

He soon discovered, however, that being an ordinary man was no easy thing—especially when the police kept coming to hassle him.

As it turned out, they were not actually hassling him. He had been a police officer all along.

At twenty, Kiryu Kazuma had been a vigorous young policeman. He had merely been stationed in some remote rural backwater, until one day an officer took an interest in him and had a serious talk with him.

And so, from a little country policeman, he became a yakuza in Tokyo.

That officer had played a major role in the transformation, helping him earn several commendations.

Now that Kiryu Kazuma had stopped being a yakuza, the officer found himself in a difficult position.

In the end, after a mixture of threats and inducements, Kiryu Kazuma returned to his former life in the underworld—this time by joining the Taketori Family.

The head of the Taketori Family, Goro Taketori, was a leading candidate for the position of the next underboss.

The underboss was the successor within a yakuza organization. In reality, the position had originally been established by the Yamaguchi-gumi, which in the present day was the Yamamoto Group.

In the screenplay, however, it was not called the Yamaguchi-gumi. It was called the Aoyama Group.

Taketori Goro had recruited Kiryu Kazuma plainly to strengthen his own forces and improve his chances of obtaining the underboss’s position.

At the very first meeting, Kiryu Kazuma gave his superior a crucial piece of information.

A large number of family heads and syndicate bosses had gathered together not merely to contend for the underboss’s position, but also to conduct a little business—the sort of business one did not mention in polite company.

Come on, hurry over! Arrest the lot of them!

And yet, when the police arrived, the place was empty.

Most infuriating of all, the yakuza had left behind several guns. The message was obvious: Have a little pity on you useless cops. Take these guns back and use them to close the case.

The police took the guns and… in any event, they were furious!

Officer Wajiro, who was in charge of the case—the very officer who had been in direct contact with Kiryu Kazuma—realized it at once.

There was a mole among the police!

But who was this mole?

A police officer named Daigo Dojima was highly active…

…

Shimatani Sei reached the final page, yet he remained immersed in the screenplay for a long while.

This Infernal Affairs was simply magnificent!

Although it was not yet finished—which also meant that Shimatani had not fully understood it—

he was still deeply shaken.

For one thing, the story was extraordinarily interesting.

A Japanese police officer infiltrating a criminal organization as an undercover agent.

The matter had not yet been disclosed in much detail, but news reports often mentioned “leads”—information supplied by informants.

So even a story about a policeman going undercover within a criminal organization was already highly compelling.

And the yakuza were sending an undercover agent into the police as well?

Both sides infiltrating each other and sending undercover agents into one another’s ranks.

Page 1 of 3

Page 2 of 3

What a superb idea!

Shimatani immediately thought of A Violent Man.

Hadn’t the ending of that film featured the rookie policeman Kikuchi killing the corrupt officer Iwaki?

He was only a rookie. Could he have been an undercover agent?

More importantly, this story carried the plot forward!

There was another crucial point: the events depicted so far.

The Yamaichi Conflict—the gathering of gang bosses from all over the country, followed by the surrender of several guns—was based on something that had actually happened.

Art came from reality.

By this point, several films, television dramas, and novels about the Yamaichi Conflict had already appeared, and all of them had been extremely well received—meaning they had made excellent money.

Take the famous Wives of the Yakuza, for example. It had been adapted from the Yamaichi Conflict. And wasn’t the central wife of the yakuza modeled after Fumiko Yamaguchi?

In reality, however, apart from capitalizing on the hot topic of the Yamaichi Conflict, Wives of the Yakuza had also relied on quite a few provocative scenes. As a film, it was rather poor.

Compared with the Infernal Affairs before him—a story that was not even finished yet—it simply could not compete!

If Wives of the Yakuza could become a massive hit and spawn sequel after sequel, what about Infernal Affairs?

Shimatani seemed to see a vast mountain of yen…

No, wait. He saw art.

He could not help wanting to laugh. During the Yamaichi Conflict, many people had been interviewed. They had been terrified and had spoken bitterly of the yakuza.

Yet once the affair had passed, films and television dramas adapted from it had become wildly popular.

And it was not only the Yamaichi Conflict. Consider the gangster films produced by Shochiku. Shinji Fukasaku’s true breakthrough, Battles Without Honor and Humanity, had been based on an actual struggle between criminal organizations in Hiroshima.

What was more, the film had propelled not only Fukasaku Shinji to fame, but also Bunta Sugawara. Previously known only for supporting roles, he had won his first Best Actor award for that very film.

Later, the series produced seven or eight sequels, only stopping after audiences had nearly grown sick of watching them.

The conclusion was simple: everyone hated the yakuza, yet everyone loved watching stories about the yakuza.

As long as the spectacle did not land on your own doorstep, it was sweet.

No!

After years of battling in the business world, Shimatani knew perfectly well that he must not allow his emotions to fluctuate too much. Otherwise, his “opponent” would see through him.

He quickly composed himself.

“Iwata-san, your screenplay is indeed outstanding. But I still do not understand what this screenplay has to do with releasing A Violent Man.”

The moment he said this, Iwata Takeshi had not yet responded when the bald Jisshoji was already chuckling to himself.

As a professional director, Jisshoji was extremely sensitive to changes in expression. Shimatani Sei’s transformation just now had been especially pronounced.

From surprise, to fascination, to total immersion, then suddenly awakening, and finally attempting with all his might to regain his composure—

it all proved that Shimatani had lost.

That fellow Takeshi couldn’t possibly have failed to notice, could he?

“Shimatani-san.” Iwata Takeshi adopted an earnest expression. “In my view, A Violent Man has received the approval of both Senior Jisshoji and yourself. I am delighted, but also deeply apprehensive. I am merely an unknown nobody. What if the film does not receive enough publicity when it is released?”

“Oh.” Shimatani appeared to interrupt him. He furrowed his brow and spoke with authority. “You want to generate more publicity. Ordinarily, that means entering the film in festivals and similar events.”

Iwata nodded. This was practically common knowledge throughout the film industry.

Shimatani continued, though his tone grew more solemn.

“But there have been no particularly notable festivals or major awards lately. Most of Japan’s film awards are concentrated between February and March. In other words, you intend to wait until next year… Hmm?”

Shimatani noticed the change in Iwata Takeshi’s expression. Clearly, he did not want to wait until next year.

Then…

Page 2 of 3

Page 3 of 3

“You want to enter an overseas film festival?”

His tone was exceptionally sharp.

But Iwata Takeshi’s fierce face did not retreat in the slightest. He met Shimatani Sei’s gaze directly.

Then he nodded.

To be honest, Shimatani felt extremely uneasy inside…

The man looked far too menacing. He was terrifying!

Still, he had to maintain the dignity of a superior.

“That is rather presumptuous, isn’t it? You actually want to enter the Venice Film Festival?!”

That was right. The Venice Film Festival.

It was not merely an international A-list festival; it was also the oldest film festival in the world. Most importantly, it took place in September.

For Iwata Takeshi, it was the best opportunity for both himself and the film to secure a successful release.

But Iwata Takeshi was a newcomer, and Japan was a country where seniority counted for everything. Shimatani’s accusation that he was being presumptuous was therefore not entirely unreasonable.

Iwata Takeshi remained unmoved. His fierce face was utterly expressionless, like the prelude to Ryosuke Agatsuma deciding to kill someone.

How frightening…

Shimatani was barely holding himself together.

Fortunately, Iwata Takeshi merely gave a heavy nod.

“On what grounds do you believe you can enter the Venice Film Festival? This is an international A-list festival!”

Even as Shimatani said it, he could hear the weakness in his own voice.

Iwata Takeshi remained expressionless. He merely raised a hand and pointed toward the screenplay for Infernal Affairs.

When Shimatani saw this, he actually breathed a sigh of relief. Nevertheless, he continued in a forceful tone.

“You mean you want to use this screenplay in exchange for a recommendation from Toho? And by doing so, A Violent Man would be able to enter the Venice Film Festival?”

Iwata nodded again, thinking to himself:

You understand perfectly well, don’t you?

The Venice Film Festival was, after all, an established and prestigious festival with strict standards for selecting films. But a recommendation from a well-known film company was indeed one of the better channels.

In truth, although the three major European film festivals enjoyed considerable renown, they had been overshadowed by the Oscars for many years.

They needed films too.

Of course, that did not mean a recommendation guaranteed selection. And so—

Shimatani had long since forgotten that he had claimed not to understand. He seized upon his final opportunity for a counterattack.

“What if this film fails to enter the Venice Film Festival?”

Iwata Takeshi finally spoke. His tone was completely sincere.

“If it fails to enter the Venice Film Festival, then I will give the screenplay to you, Shimatani-san.”

There was a subtle distinction in those words.

He had not said that he would give it to Toho. He had said that he would give it to Shimatani.

And so…

“Agreed!”

“I will never go back on my word!”

The two men clasped hands. The atmosphere, which had moments earlier been taut as a drawn blade, instantly transformed into easy laughter and conversation.

The old bald Jisshoji watched the entire exchange from the side. He was naturally delighted, but inwardly, he was laughing himself sick.

That Takeshi was one crafty bastard. Shimatani had done all the talking from beginning to end, yet you were the one who walked away with the enormous advantage!

Very well, the truth was that Black Car suffered from a chronic inability to come up with names.

End of Chapter