The Death of Yukio Mishima
The Death of Yukio Mishima
Yojūrō Yasuda
When Mishima first came to our house, he was seventeen years old and still a student at Gakushuin. At the time, his writing was so skillful that I feared it was dangerous for a young boy. However, when I spoke to him, I realised that he had enough talent to write a novel. From the time he was a boy, he was regarded as a genius because his ideas differed from those of the ordinary novelists of the time. At that time, I came to know another boy genius, a little older than Mishima, who had died in the war. When I heard of Mishima's death, I was overcome with sadness. The Mishima-kun I knew was a beautiful boy with lovely reddish hair. I was even more saddened because I did not know his adult face. I feel his death not only as a loss for Japan, but also as a painful reminder of the sorrow of a man who alone has borne the terminal loss of the world's humanity. I am saddened that the image of our Emperor, which he so beautifully portrayed, is not understood or accepted by anyone. It seems to me that it is not even received in an intellectual sense. I believe that Mishima's Emperor is an attempt to depict the ideas that arise from the mythology and history of Japan, which are embodied in the main head of the Grand Festival, in a beautiful world that transcends ideas. I believe that this is the world of Mr Mishima, who studied various national reform ideas and incidents in recent history over the past few years, and through this he was able to depict sentiments that differed from the way people used to think.
When I found out the general circumstances of Mishima's death, I knew that it was a major event in Japanese history. I am not yet able to give a simple description of his death. In this case, my first thought is that it is a reflection on powerlessness. Secondly, I think it is a reflection on humility.
I have no choice but to pray to the 800,000 gods and goddesses that some sanity will be born from this. When Mr Mishima beautifully committed suicide in accordance with the warrior's ceremony, I was reminded of the truly extraordinary spirit of Mr Morita, who died in the same place. I cannot stop shaking with emotion without a single word. I thought of the seventeen-year-old Otaya Yamaguchi, who committed suicide in a detention centre on the day before Meiji Jubilee ten years ago, and I could not help but feel a strong desire to hold him close to my heart. I thought deeply that there was still a great man in young Japan. It was a way to slightly suppress the deep and limitless pain. As for my feelings about their deaths, after a month passed, I realised that my feelings of loftiness had become much more profound than my feelings of sadness. However, the sorrow of the gods is unlimited. I wondered if this feeling was the result of my feelings for my country.