George Bush’S Great America [EN]: Chapter 276

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In a world where tensions simmer like a pressure cooker, Japan remained remarkably calm. Just hours ago, the United States had declared a “War on Drugs.”

While their approach had slight variations, the core strategy mirrored existing drug policies: apprehending suppliers, arresting users, and incarcerating them in privatized prisons.

This time, however, the crackdown was so intense that even the privileged elite weren’t exempt from arrest.

“Typical of that impetuous president. I doubt he’ll achieve the same ‘victory’ as before.”

Abe maintained his composure. He hadn’t wanted to meet Nakasone again, yet here he was, standing in front of his residence. He could have cited work commitments, but despite his initial reluctance, he’d found himself drawn to Nakasone’s home.

“Shinzo Abe.”

“Yes.”

Nakasone was one of the few figures Abe found genuinely unsettling. What did he want this time? Despite claiming to have retired from politics, Nakasone still wielded considerable influence behind the scenes.

Unlike some countries, Japan thrived on backroom dealings. Nakasone, chuckling before him, was a prime example. Some claimed Koizumi had ousted him, but in reality, he’d simply stepped aside on his own accord.

Beyond them were the chairmen of far-right organizations and the political yakuza [Japanese organized crime syndicates with political ties]. These were the modern incarnations of the shogunate families, some retaining their original names since the Edo period [1603-1868], others operating under new guises.

“I didn’t summon you to discuss trans-Pacific affairs. I simply wished to check on a junior’s well-being, as a senior should.”

Abe thought this could have been handled over the phone, but that was typical of older generations. Silently, he observed the tea placed before him, then met Nakasone’s gaze.

“Besides, I said you needn’t come if you were busy. Yet, you came anyway. It seems you desire something from me as well. Am I wrong?”

Perhaps he was seeking validation, but not from this man. Nakasone was powerful, far beyond Abe’s current capabilities. In the future, Abe might reach a position where Nakasone sought him out, but would the old man even be alive then?

“No, you’re right.”

He conceded, forcing himself to believe he was persuaded.

“That Koizumi fellow. His time is running short.”

He likely meant Koizumi’s term in the House of Representatives, set to end in 2006. Koizumi would eventually have to step down. But what did it matter? Stepping down after a term was merely tradition; legally, a Japanese Prime Minister could be re-elected indefinitely if they maintained their power.

Abe believed Koizumi had no intention of relinquishing power, and his grip seemed firm.

“You look as though I’m spouting senile nonsense.”

“No, not at all.”

Abe stammered, caught off guard. It was as if Nakasone had read his thoughts.

‘Is this man truly a monster?’

What defined a monster anyway? A supernatural being beyond human comprehension? What exactly was a monster?

“It’s just a hunch, a feeling. The cycle of change is upon us.”

Nakasone tapped his temple and smiled faintly. Coming from a former Prime Minister, even his hunches couldn’t be dismissed lightly.

“Lately, he’s been too focused on the media. Sooner or later, something will go wrong. Of course, ignoring the media entirely is a problem in itself.”

“But the ones you need to impress aren’t the powerless masses, but the powerful minority.”

“That’s similar to our last conversation. Why do you believe that?”

Abe answered instantly, without hesitation.

“Because that’s democracy.”

“That’s right. Democracy. The Japanese kind.”

Nakasone chuckled, as if that were the perfect answer.

“This may sound harsh, but frankly, our people are fools. As you said, they lack a sense of responsibility. They view politics as something grand, yet something done by stuffy old men in big buildings, spouting nonsense.”

Words poured out of him like a waterfall, unbefitting his age, and he coughed repeatedly. Abe reached for a handkerchief, but Nakasone waved him off, insisting he was fine.

“Those who raise their voices are either seriously mistaken or paranoid. Still… yes. There’s one thing I agree with.”

The far-right groups. Watching them shout until their voices cracked, Abe realized humans were just stupid primates without education. Only one thing resonated.

“Our Japan has not lost. We have never lost! We may have lost the war, but ‘Japan’ has not lost!”

It wasn’t just mental gymnastics; he genuinely believed it. Despite the difficult times, hadn’t they rebuilt a great nation, standing tall in the world?

“I believe you are the one who can make my long-cherished ‘constitutional revision’ possible.”

Abe remained silent. He almost reflexively agreed, but reason cautioned him against making promises. He barely managed to restrain himself.

“That Koizumi’s son. He’s quite clever.”

“Are you talking about Shinjiro?”

“Yes. That guy. He’s a skilled speaker. Was it the year before last? I asked him a question on a sensitive topic, and he used sophisticated rhetoric to deflect it subtly. He’s perfect as a politician. Are you interested?”

“I’m more interested in that sensitive topic than the person.”

One could never have too much information about other people’s weaknesses.

“What? It’s no secret. It’s about his relationships with women. He’s a bachelor for personal reasons. Didn’t you know?”

“Even I don’t know such things, unless they’re already prominent in the political world.”

Nakasone smiled, intrigued.

“You’ll be in my position someday. When you sit in this seat, you’ll know the backgrounds of ‘promising candidates’ without effort.”

Shinjiro was a promising candidate, marked by Nakasone and other influential figures. Abe didn’t know what qualities had sparked their interest, but that alone was enough to make him wary.

“The world isn’t easy. It’s more common to find ore in a mine than on the street.”

That was obvious. There was a reason people searched for veins of ore. The same applied to families.

Prestigious families were prestigious for a reason. The political arena of Japan proved that, and Shinzo Abe was a living example.

“But that doesn’t mean there’s no ore on the street. Finding it is someone else’s job, but refining it is ours. Like Propecia [a medication for hair loss].”

The sudden mention of the hair loss drug caught Abe off guard. Why bring that up?

He understood the intention. The drug’s development was a coincidence, like penicillin. The discovery of the cause was accidental, but why a hair loss drug?

“Are you taking it? Propecia.”

Nakasone touched his forehead and murmured sorrowfully, a rare expression for him.

“Before this disease, neither wealth nor power that can make the next Prime Minister kneel is of any use.”

Abe wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the subtle implication that he was being considered for Prime Minister, but he wasn’t naive enough to get excited about it either.

“Hair loss is not a disease.”

“What is a disease? Isn’t it a condition where a bodily function is impaired? What else is it if healthy hair falling out isn’t a disease?”

Abe fell silent. There was no need to provoke him further. He needed to play the role of a quick-witted junior, not a righteous scholar.

“You said you wanted to know my intentions. Does this answer it somewhat?”

Abe didn’t give a straight answer. He suspected Nakasone enjoyed watching his reactions. What was this, if not a clown show? He sighed inwardly.

“Did you think it was a waste of time?”

“As I said before, I would never think such a thing…”

Nakasone burst into laughter, so hard that the tea in his cup rippled. He wiped his eyes and spoke with a benevolent expression.

“You lack improvisation. That will be the weakness that ends your political career.”

“Is that also a hunch?”

“Yes, the hunch of a former Prime Minister. Or a distorted sense created by experience. If I were you, I’d admit it. You must feel it’s a waste of time.”

‘Nakasone is great, but a hunch is just a hunch. If I ever need to improvise in this political world, I’m already collapsing.’

Yet, a corner of his heart felt uneasy. Even if a commoner knew that politicians’ curses were harmless, wouldn’t they be affected by hearing them directly?

Abe believed this was the same.

“But don’t think I was just teasing you. I got what I wanted from you.”

In the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Nakasone had roughly assessed the ‘world situation.’ His goal was to fully understand it. Once Nakasone made up his mind, Abe was definitely the next Prime Minister.

‘Korea can’t straighten its back. China has shrunk back. Russia is opaque, but they won’t pay much attention to Japan for now. And America…’

The tea’s scent cleared the 잡념 [japnyum – stray thoughts] in Nakasone’s brain.

‘America’s shackles are loose. Constitutional revision. I refuse to return to those days, but to cast off the unpleasant past…’

“Would you like another cup of tea?”

The man with the vacant expression was perfect.

“Well, I’ve only said unpleasant things, so I’ll say this: you’re going to last a long time. You may even boast the longest term in Japanese history.”

Nakasone was sincere, but it sounded like empty flattery. It was strange to call it flattery, given their positions, but that’s how it felt.

“Is that also a hunch?”

“That’s right.”

A new tea filled the teacup, reflecting Shinzo Abe, who would lead Japan in the future.

“It’s a hunch.”