It is the night before another antiwar demonstration and a half a dozen students—long-haired, bearded, blue-jeaned and sandaled— are painting placards and writing propaganda in one of the rooms of the student hall of Doshisha University. In a few hours they will board a slow train to Tokyo (they do not have enough money for the shinkansen, or bullet) and will join thousands of their contemporaries in a carefully orchestrated melee ardund one of the large stations, probably Shinjuku, favorite haunt of the young and the mod. It will not be a major demonstration resulting in mass arrests and injuries. It will barely delay trains and blockade traffic for two or three hours—enough for page one of the national papers, enough to remind everyone that radical youth is not entirely dead, enough for middle-class, nonviolent Japan to recall with shrugs of remorse and distaste the bloody excesses of the past year.