"Down with Takashima's tyranny! Japan belongs to the people! Mother Anarchy loves us!"
I still remember that slogan clearly. By then, our speeches in bars had gathered a group of anarchist comrades. Now, it was time to add fuel to the fire.
The key was how to ignite it. The best approach was simple: most Japanese people were kept in the dark by media censorship, completely unaware of what their government was doing. The match that would light the fire was to let them see with their own eyes the persecution their compatriots were suffering.
Hokkaido, Japan's northernmost island, is the birthplace of the Ainu people and their culture. After the Sino-Japanese War, Takashima Sanae used the excuse of "non-ethnic groups must be disloyal" to label the Ainu as collaborators. Every Ainu was either sent to a concentration camp for life imprisonment or shot on the spot.
I formed an operation team with "Comrade" and two new members—whom we'll call "Money" and "Rebel"—and headed to Hokkaido. When we landed at New Chitose Airport, the four of us dared not even breathe. The airport was filled with heavily armed soldiers arresting Ainu people.
"Money" raised his camera and started filming.
"Hey, sir, recording is prohibited here." A soldier approached, "Under the Japanese Anti-Espionage Law, we will confiscate your camera and impose a fine."
"Ah, officer… you can take the camera, but I really have no money… I just graduated from high school."
"I'll pay the fine for him—we're a team." I settled the fine for "Money," and the soldier finally left.
Luckily, we had also brought a thumb camera. Over the five days in Hokkaido, we documented the Japanese government's crimes on this land. By our count, we witnessed 12 people being arrested and 3 shot dead, all captured on camera.
The next question was how to make the video public.
Since the start of the war, Japan's media had been fully controlled by the government, and the public's right to speak was strictly restricted. Spreading the video on domestic social platforms was clearly impossible.
"Comrades, I have a proposal," said "Star" from the technical team. "We can upload the edited video to our own overseas cloud server. Since downloading doesn't require a VPN or proxy, we just need to bind the download link to a QR code—scanning it will automatically download and play the video. Then we print the QR code on flyers, disguise them as other types of flyers, and distribute them. Problem solved?"
We instructed the distribution comrades to deliberately avoid suspected government workers, civil servants, and military personnel. The plan was a huge success. The widespread spread of the video sparked mass protests and riots, with people demonstrating against the government's atrocities.
"Comrade" and I joined one protest ourselves. On the streets, people held signs in both Japanese and English: "Oppose the revival of militarism—Takashima Sanae step down!" "Japan is not just the Yamato people! Oppose nationalism!"
Watching the chaos unfold, a surge of pleasure rose in my chest. So this… is what chaos feels like. It was even more beautiful than cherry blossoms falling.
The government finally panicked and began hunting for those who had filmed and spread the video.
And we were finally ready to step out of the shadows.
January 13, 2029—I remember that date clearly. All 20 members of our team from every department stood in the center of Shibuya, held up signs, and officially announced the founding of the 「Japanese Anarchist Commune.」