The Frolic of the Beasts Read online

  “Put your hand on the cat’s back and swear. If you lie, then you’ll turn into a cat, too.”

  “That’s crazy!” exclaimed Kimi contemptuously, placing her hand on the back of the squirming animal and swearing an oath at the top of her voice. “There, I’ve done it. Now, let’s go for a swim, shall we?”

  “Is that a good idea after we’ve had so much to drink?”

  “Call yourself a man? You coward. Come on—let’s take a dip at Urayasu.”

  Kimi started to leave first and, carrying her ukulele, turned to face the others from the entrance to the bar and shouted, in a deliberately affected accent, “Come on. Let’s go! Let’s go!”

  * * *

  —

  In the end, only Kiyoshi, Matsukichi, and Kōji decided to go with Kimi. The four of them sang raucously as they headed for the harbor. At the wharf, only the area in front of the refrigerated ice store was glaringly bright. The electric motor for the freezer in the ice plant hummed on late into the night. There were a few shadowy figures squatting along the seawall close by, fishing for horse mackerel.

  They hadn’t been down there for a while, and the number of ships alongside the wharf had increased considerably. The white underside of one ship appeared alternately bright and then dark again as the beam from the lighthouse near the bay entrance reached it. Similarly, the silver oil tanks standing on the opposite shore intermittently appeared small and white, and then disappeared from view again. Above this vantage point, countless stars filled the night sky.

  Kōji thought again about Yūko. Even when he was apart from her for a moment, or perhaps because he was apart from her, his mind was continuously occupied by thoughts of her. A stern line groaned. One of the ships sulkily pulled on the rope, and then slowly pushed back and let it go slack again. He could only lament his bad fortune at running into this indescribably cold and evasive woman just as he was at last of the age to make a go of life. It was his fate. The world was full of young men who accepted their destinies lightly the way one wears a wristwatch, without much conscious thought. But his destiny was like a plaster cast.

  He was so in love with her, and yet he suffered from the vague anguish of the moral impossibility of the situation and the fact that he was unable to capture her heart. Why now had Yūko summoned him to these parts?

  If it was out of a sense of regret and atonement, then what did that kiss and the terrible things she said at the waterfall mean? In the end, thinking like this, his fondness for her only succeeded in raising doubts about what sort of person Yūko really was.

  Kōji became alert as an unaccountable agitation began to constrict his body once again. Having his heart won over by something so uncertain was a bad omen. He told himself that he ought to have clearly seen the physical clarity of his punishment while in prison.

  I am a changed person, I have repented, I have…His repentance was recognition of that clarity. Kōji’s life had changed dramatically since the picnic at the waterfall. Lately, from the moment he got up in the morning, throughout the day, he waited for Yūko to bestow her smile on him. Moreover, when she did, he could only bring himself to think of this as evidence that she didn’t love him after all.

  Matsukichi jumped down into the sculling boat, hauled on the stern rope, and brought the craft in toward the stone steps of the harbor wall. Kiyoshi helped Kimi—who was carrying the ukulele—down into the boat. Kōji suddenly looked back in the direction of the ice plant. He watched as rays of golden light cascaded from the entrance—the door having been left open—spilling onto the dark concrete floor. It was a great outflow of silent, futile light—almost mystical in its appearance. He wondered why such a great amount of light jostled for space in that one place at night.

  * * *

  —

  Taking up the oars, Matsukichi rowed the boat directly across the bay. Even out on the water, there was no wind.

  Kiyoshi, who was a member of the Air Self-Defense Force ground crew, began to talk, enthusiastically, about dealing with the aftermath of a recent jet plane crash.

  “There was an announcement on the speakers, giving the plane’s current situation. It said, ‘Emergency reported from: Flight Number T33A A/C number 390. The trouble is an engine stop. Present location above the Atsumi Peninsula.’ That was all. Then we lost radio contact. An F-86F fighter headed out right away to guide the plane down, but it radioed back that there was no sign of Flight 390. We were really shocked. Of course, two search-and-rescue helicopters had been scrambled as well. They carried out a fair number of low-level reconnaissance flights, and then, at last, we heard the sad news that they had found the crash site. We went separately by truck, and relying on guidance from the helicopters and using our own maps, we finally arrived at the scene about two and a half hours later. The body of the plane had plunged vertically into the ground. The tail, which we could just see sticking out of the earth, was smoldering and sputtering, and there was an indescribably unpleasant smell coming from the wreckage. I’ll never forget seeing two helmets lying in a field, casting long shadows as they caught the westerly sun.

  “It had already started to get dark, so the excavation and recovery of the bodies had to wait until the next morning. Besides, we hadn’t even prepared any lighting equipment. We gathered together the fragments of wing that had scattered around the area, and then all we could do was pick some wildflowers and spend the night offering them up with incense sticks in prayer. It was such a sad night. No one said very much. We threw up a rope barrier all around, thirty yards from the wreckage, and took turns to keep watch to make sure any onlookers couldn’t get in. It was the saddest night I’ve ever spent, I can tell you. You have to appreciate, we’re ground crew—used to carrying wrenches and screwdrivers, not guns. We weren’t accustomed to standing guard like that. But, anyway, the long night passed without incident, and although the horrible stench from the burnt-out plane gradually faded, it clung to our noses all night long.

  “Then morning came. The eastern skies brightened faintly. I remember thinking it would be an unearthly morning. I knew a gigantic round sun would climb into the sky. I wouldn’t be able to bear to look at such a sun. Such an unbridled, dazzling sun. But before it came fully up, the unburnt tail section of the plane began to reflect the radiant first light of morning. It was so awfully beautiful. Then, for the first time, we saw clearly the horror of the accident.”

  “So, then what did you do?” asked Kimi.

  “We started digging as quickly as we could. That was all,” answered Kiyoshi, falling silent. Then he abruptly changed the topic of conversation and said, “We keep a small flower garden. When I say ‘we,’ it was actually the guys from the repair platoon who made it, although I help tend it now and again. We call it the ‘Garden for the Attainment of Perfection.’ It comes from the proverb ‘Adversity is the best school.’ It has a small rose-trellised entrance and a summer house we made from targets for shooting practice. There’s even a red torii shrine gate on top of a miniature artificial hill, and goldfish swimming in a small pond, too. And scattered about in between are lots of flowers. There are carnations, and a cactus we planted recently was donated by the candy store at the PX. We also have some nasturtiums.”

  “Are the flowers dedicated to those who died?” asked Kimi.

  “Don’t be daft. Those flowers are there for the people who are still alive. But, tell me, if you’re from Hamamatsu, too, how is it we haven’t managed to bump into each other before now?”

  “Because you haven’t been at the base in north Hamamatsu for very long, have you? Besides which, there’s no way you could find me in such a big town. Especially as I’m so good at hiding.”

  “See? That’s how she is!” said Matsukichi, poking fun at Kimi as he slowly rowed the boat.

  Kōji envied Kiyoshi his simple lyrical spirit. It was a warm, plump spirit, that was plain for all to see—just like a sweet bun in
a shop’s glass display case. There had been a flower garden like the one Kiyoshi spoke of at the prison, too. While Kōji hadn’t helped with the garden that the other inmates tended with such care, he had loved it timidly, superstitiously, and keenly, and with a slight sense of loathing.

  He, too, had heart-wrung memories of the vulgar saffron-colored nasturtiums. But unlike Kiyoshi, he would never relate such recollections to others.

  And as for Matsukichi? He was like a dull-witted young animal.

  Kōji suddenly blurted, “Kimi, before, you made a promise, right? That you’d have to leave some proof of your feelings on the ukulele.”

  “When you say proof?”

  Kōji explained that she ought to carve With Love, Kimi on the body of the ukulele. Kimi hesitated a little but in the end agreed. Kōji borrowed Kiyoshi’s knife and inscribed the ukulele in small English lettering. White granules scattered as the lettering was scored into the glossy, dark brown surface of the sound board. Kimi said she felt as though a tattoo were being etched onto her own arm. Then she reached out and softly touched Kōji’s arm—tensed as it supported the ukulele firmly against the slight pitching of the boat, so as to avoid spoiling the lettering he was engraving.

  * * *

  —

  The forest of Urayasu was located on the tip of the promontory, in an area within the breakwater on the end of which stood a lighthouse. The eastern fringe of the forest gave out onto a quiet inlet of the bay, while the western part of the forest spread immediately beyond the breakwater and connected with the rocky coast of the open sea. In the midst of the dense forest was a Shinto shrine, dedicated to the worship of an early Kamakura-period sacred mirror known as the Shōchiku Hijaku Kyō.

  It was known among the many small inlets in the bay particularly for its tranquility and white, sandy beaches—and they went intent on enjoying an evening dip in the sea.

  The water close to the shore was extremely shallow and the bottom of the boat dragged on the sand. Stretching the mooring rope as far as possible, they finally managed to tie it to a rotten tree on the bank.

  The three men were amazed at how well prepared Kimi was. When without hesitation she stripped off her beachwear, she already had on a white swimsuit. With no other option, the men swam in their underpants.

  A new moon appeared in the sky above the village. Kōji could see the dull lights of the Kusakado house in the hills to the north of the village. With an invigorating shudder, he felt the uneasy, quickening pace of his heartbeat as his inebriated body was suddenly immersed in the water, and he swam about in the middle of the narrow inlet.

  “Hey, a shadow! Look at the shadow!” shouted Kimi, lifting her head from the surface of the water.

  Her gleeful cry slapped the water’s surface and rebounded, drowning out the distant echo of breaking waves as they pounded the rocky shore. Looking down, they saw their own strangely distorted shadows on the white, cone-shaped seabed, lit up by the lighthouse twelve nautical miles away as it cast its beam across the darkness every two seconds.

  Having enjoyed their swim sufficiently, they climbed onto the shore and entered the Urayasu forest. Even in the depths of the forest, the light from the lighthouse shone like a flash of lightning and transformed the unsettling darkness.

  Although it was summer, the forest paths, ankle-deep in moist leaves, were barely evident. The striped mosquitoes were a real nuisance. The deeper they went into the forest, the more the boom of the offshore waves echoed terrifically around the tree trunks.

  Naked, they walked in silence, swatting at the mosquitoes that swarmed all around them.

  “Let’s light a fire here. It’ll keep the mosquitoes away, and we can dry ourselves off,” suggested Matsukichi. Kimi had only brought her ukulele, and so Kiyoshi went back to the boat to fetch matches. They made a small bonfire out of dead branches, and sitting around it, they all felt peaceful.

  Kimi played her ukulele and sang softly, the fire reflected on the body of the instrument. Still wet, her bare shoulders took on a pale hue in the light of the lighthouse as it penetrated the lower branches of the trees. They neither laughed nor joked; instead, they were content in the feeling of superiority that came from indulging themselves in a special kind of pleasure, the likes of which they knew was alien to city dwellers.

  * * *

  —

  They gazed in silence at the flickering flames of the small bonfire—the bottoms of their eyes stinging a little as the salt water dried.

  “Give me the ukulele,” said Matsukichi suddenly, his voice deep and serious. Resolution, following lengthy indecision, was clearly evident in his tone.

  Kimi held the ukulele in her arms and refused.

  “I won’t.”

  They fell silent again. But this time the silence no longer carried with it that sense of calm.

  Before long, Matsukichi pressed the matter again, more persistently and maladroitly than before.

  “Now look. As I see it, there’s three of us men here, okay? You have to give the ukulele to one of us, right? So I think you should give it to me.”

  Matsukichi’s naked body was by far the most powerfully built of the three. He was broad-shouldered, and his chest muscles bulged like a bank of summer clouds. His voice, too, like his body, was imposing, though it carried with it a heavy, melancholy quality.

  It seemed that Kimi sensed her answer at this moment would result in a definite consequence. Lifting her keen eyes, she stared at Matsukichi fixedly, and then, after they had glared at each other for a while, finally she said, “I won’t.”

  It was obvious, even in the dark, that Matsukichi’s face had begun to flush with embarrassment. All of a sudden he reached out a sturdy arm. Thinking only that this powerful lunge was directed toward Kimi, Kōji involuntarily moved his body diagonally in order to shield her.

  Kōji had no idea how Matsukichi judged situations or how he made his decisions. Be that as it may, it was certain that his thoughts were seeking to escape from a kind of bewilderment in deciding to act the way he did. Ordinarily, he probably wouldn’t have hesitated in fighting the other two men and choosing to take Kimi forcibly. And yet, in the moment, rather than trusting in his carnal desires (and, after this experience, he would be unlikely to doubt those desires again), he had put his faith in a single concept, that is to say, the ukulele. He snatched the instrument roughly from Kimi’s grasp, and since Kōji had in fact been protecting Kimi’s person, the ukulele was, if anything, easily taken. For some reason, in that instant, Kōji stole a glance at Kiyoshi. This serious young man’s face was faintly immersed in a lyrical veil of unease, and with his mouth slightly agape, he looked as though he was bound to the depths of a world he found difficult to shut out—a world of flowers and aircraft tails glinting in the morning sun, a world filled with tragically heroic death. And yet, the lively scene that was in full play before him didn’t call for honor on his part at all.

  Kimi stood up and seized violent hold of Matsukichi’s arms. The ukulele pitched and sailed dangerously into the air above their heads. In the end, Matsukichi couldn’t resist Kimi’s efforts, and instead he had tossed the ukulele to Kiyoshi. As if waking from a dream, Kiyoshi’s naked body moved nimbly. He took the ukulele in one hand and began to run. Kiyoshi’s actions were completely natural; he found himself in a situation where his role had suddenly become necessary.

  Letting out an unhappy shriek, this time Kimi gave chase after Kiyoshi. But Kiyoshi threw the ukulele back to Matsukichi, who was now free of her. Laughing so loudly that his voice echoed through the forest, Matsukichi tore away in the direction of the beach by the inlet, throwing the ukulele once again to Kiyoshi’s waiting hands. Then, while Kiyoshi and Kimi fought for possession of the instrument, he swiftly untied the mooring rope, splashed across the water, kicking up spray as he went, and leapt into the boat. As Kiyoshi plunged into the shallows, holding the uku
lele above the water, Matsukichi tossed Kimi and Kōji’s clothes onto the beach; then he reached out and pulled Kiyoshi into the boat.

  Kimi cursed loudly from the shore. But she appeared to have abandoned any thoughts of swimming after them. The sculling boat, carrying Kiyoshi, Matsukichi, and the ukulele, receded in a moment across the bay, leaving Matsukichi’s laughter trailing behind across the water. Before long, as the boat reached the middle of the bay—Matsukichi having handed the oars to Kiyoshi—the discordant sound of Matsukichi’s strumming reached the ears of Kōji and Kimi, left behind on the shore at Urayasu.

  * * *

  —

  There followed a predictable sequence of events. Kimi returned to the vicinity of the bonfire in the forest and told Kōji that the reason she hadn’t swum after the boat earlier was because she wanted to be alone with him. She said she knew full well that Kōji was in love with Yūko, but that just for this one night she was prepared to make a sacrifice and act as a stand-in.

  Kōji hardly talked about how he felt. Kimi’s doleful words appeared absurd to him—like a set firework that hadn’t gone off properly. At length, he said he would prefer it if she didn’t talk anymore.

  The roar of the ocean waves; the dying flames of the bonfire; the beam of light from the lighthouse lancing like lightning through the gaps in the trees; a new moon climbing into the sky; countless stars…Surrounded by all of this, Kōji was able to put Yūko from his mind and enjoy not having to think of her at all.

  He fancied he hadn’t experienced the various contrivances of nature befriending him like this since his youth, but appreciating it now, it was like some elaborate chicanery: the artifice of a new moon, the pounding waves, and the low, melancholy buzz of mosquitoes around Kimi’s hair.