After peering closely at Imanishi’s handwriting, which was difficult to read, the woman said, “Please wait a moment.” She stood up and took a book from the shelf where the originals of the family registers were stored. Imanishi waited two or three long minutes. The clerk returned to the window.
“We do have that name registered.”
“You do?”
“Yes. We definitely have that family register’s original record.”
“Is that the authentic record?” Imanishi’s question slipped out.
“Of course it is,” the clerk said, sounding annoyed. “The original register at the ward office would not be a forgery.”
“I’m sure that’s the case, but…” Imanishi was thinking that, although there might be no doubt that it was the original register, it might have been created intentionally. “I’m sorry to trouble you, but could you please let me see the original register?” Imanishi requested.
“Go ahead.” She passed the thick volume through the window.
Imanishi had imagined that an original family register record would be on old, brown-tinged paper with its edges crumbling away. But this original record was still new. He looked at the entry in question. “Original domicile: Number 120, 2 Ebisu-cho, Naniwa Ward, Osaka City…” Imanishi compared the entry to the notation in his book, but each character was the same.
“Both the head of household, Eizo, and his wife, Kimiko, have the same date of death, March 14,1945. Does that mean that they died in the air raid?” Imanishi asked for confirmation.
The clerk peered at the entry and said, “Yes, it does. That day there was a large air raid on the whole of Naniwa Ward. Practically all the houses were burned down. It looks like these two people died in the bombing at that time.”
Imanishi’s attention went back to the newness of the original family register record book. “It looks like the paper in this volume of original family registers is very new.”
“Yes. The previous record book was burned in that same air raid, so this was created later to take its place.”
“Were these records copied from the ones at the Bureau of Justice?”
“The Bureau of Justice was also completely burned down in that day’s air raid, and their originals were also destroyed.”
“What?” Imanishi’s eyes glinted. “Then what was this record based on?”
“This one was recorded from the information provided by the person himself.”
“The person himself?”
“Yes. In cases where the original record was destroyed during the war, the law provides for the resubmission of the family register. Please take a look at this.”
The clerk showed Imanishi the statute printed on the first page of the original family register record book:
In those census registration areas where the ward offices and prefectural government offices were destroyed by wartime disasters, notifications of resubmission of family registers are to be presented between 1946 and 1947.
Imanishi raised his eyes. “Then, does this mean that the resubmission for this family register entry was presented between 1946 and 1947?”
“No, not necessarily. There are cases when it was made later.”
“I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but could you check when the notification of resubmission was filed in this case?”
“I can find that out right away.” The clerk took the original record book and leafed through it. “In this person’s case, notification was given on March 2, 1949.”
“Nineteen forty-nine?” Imanishi thought about this. “Is it necessary to have someone like a guarantor to prove that the claims of the person are correct?”
“We prefer to have someone like that vouch for the information, but in special circumstances such as war damage, there may not have been anyone to offer such proof. In such cases, we are forced to rewrite the register based on the information the person concerned provides.”
“Then, in this case, you did a resubmission of the family register according to what the person himself gave as information?”
“Please wait. I’ll check on that for you.” She left her chair.
Watching from where he stood, Imanishi could see that the family register section contained several archival shelves. Crouching down to reach under a stack of shelves, the clerk searched for something. It took nearly ten minutes. She seemed to be having trouble finding what she was looking for. At the window, the line grew longer. Imanishi started to feel apologetic. Finally, she returned to the window.
“I just checked the files, but that request form is one that we only keep for five years, so it has already been disposed of.”
“I see.” Bowing his head, Imanishi said, “I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”
“That’s quite all right.”
“I’d like to ask you something in addition about that request for resubmission. Do you fill in the information just as the person himself designates?”
“Yes.”
“For example, if someone had registered a domicile falsely, there would be no way to check that?”
“No, there wouldn’t. Since all the original records have been destroyed, we have no way to tell if a false record is registered.”
Imanishi thought for a bit. “Is there no way that such a forgery could be found out? Is there some way to uncover it?”
“There is a way,” the clerk answered, as Imanishi had expected.
“For example, if this head of household Eizo’s place of birth was recorded, then we could confirm it with that location’s city hall or town office. It would be the same for his wife.”
“And in this case, did this office go through that procedure?”
“We must have done it. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have accepted the record.”
Imanishi asked her to verify that this procedure had been followed. The clerk once again asked him to wait. She went to the shelves and searched through a thick, bound volume. It was a long time before she returned.
“I searched the transaction records for that time, but the clerk who accepted the record no longer works here. According to the transaction records, we accepted the registration with the stipulation that the head of household Eizo’s and his wife Kimiko’s places of origin were for subsequent completion.”
“Subsequent completion?” Imanishi had no idea what that meant.
Anticipating his reaction, the clerk explained to him, “It’s my guess that the person who came to record this registration had forgotten the exact locations of the family domiciles of the head of household Eizo, and his wife, Kimiko.”
“Had forgotten the locations?”
“That’s what I think. After all, the person who submitted the registration was sixteen at the time. His parents had passed away suddenly in a war disaster, and he may not have known the exact location of his parents’ places of origin. There was no way that he could fill in those sections, so the registration was probably submitted as is. I would suppose that we accommodated him by having him promise that if he found the places of origin of his parents, he would report that to us. That procedure is what we call ‘subsequent completion.’ ”
So that was it. Imanishi thought that a bright boy could easily have submitted such a registration.
“Thank you so much for all you’ve done.”
Imanishi headed for the high school. He had thought that it would be close to the city of Kyoto, but it was near the Osaka prefectural border. The high school stood on a hillside in the outskirts of the city. Imanishi took a taxi to just below the school and walked up the lengthy stone steps, perspiring.
The school principal, a thin, short man in his mid-fifties who seemed kindly, received him. Imanishi stated the purpose of his visit.
“Hmm. What class was this student in?”
“He didn’t actually graduate,” Imanishi responded.
“He left partway through? Then what grade was he when he left?”
