“Like a man? Well—” Kobayashi began and, interrupting himself, added, “Fair enough, I’ll explain. Neither this man nor his letter, the contents of his letter, has anything to do with you. Not in the social sense — do you know what I’m saying? Let me also explain ‘social’ while I’m at it to avoid any misunderstanding. Out there in the profane, work-a-day world, you have no obligations where the contents of this letter are concerned.”
“Obviously not.”
“Exactly — no social obligation. But what if you expanded your moral vision a little and then had a look?”
“No matter how I expand, I’m not about to feel an obligation to put my hand in my pocket.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t, being you. But I’m guessing you will feel some sympathy.”
“Sympathy, yes.”
“That’s more than enough, for me. When you talk about sympathy, you mean you’d like to give some money. But the fact is you don’t want to spend any, and that leads to a battle with your conscience that creates anxiety. And with that I’ve achieved my goal.”
So saying, Kobayashi put the letter away and, withdrawing from the same pocket the yen notes from before, spread them on the table.
“Help yourself. Take what you need.”
He looked at Hara.
[166]
TSUDA WASN’T expecting this. Caught off guard and compelled to taste fully of the cynicism in the move, he felt his pulse began to hammer. In that instant an electric current of what would have to called hatred shot through his body.
At the same moment a suspicion flickered in his canny mind.
Have these two been in cahoots from the beginning, conniving to make a fool of me?
This thought, and their attitudes in conversation on the street corner, and Kobayashi’s behavior after showing up here, and Hara’s mien when he joined them, and the back-and-forth that had transpired subsequently — all this whirled and sputtered in Tsuda’s brain like firecrackers on a wheel, too fast to discern which was cause and which effect. Seeing the new ten-yen notes laid out neatly on the white tablecloth, Tsuda yelled involuntarily to himself: Is this the punch line of the farce this wily scoundrel has cooked up? Villain! You think I’ll let you have your way in this?
His wounded pride required him to turn this humiliating denouement around before he parted from these two. But he felt helpless, unprepared to deflect and turn to his own advantage a move that had been played against him so skillfully at the very last minute.
Outwardly he remained calm enough, but beneath the surface of his composure his clever mind wheeled unavailingly. Thoughts crowded into his head, but the congestion they created was a snarl and nothing more, revealing nothing of any use — he was left feeling overwrought but helpless to act. Moreover, he was aware that his agitation was beginning to move toward panic.
At just this critical moment he perceived something else no less unexpected. It was the effect the ten-yen notes had had on the young artist. As he gazed down at the money Kobayashi had laid out, there was an odd light in his eyes. It conveyed surprise and happiness. A certain hunger. And the intensity of his desire to reach for the bills and scoop them up. Each of these feelings, the surprise and happiness, the hunger and the desire, appeared to be altogether genuine. It was impossible to mistake them for false, or contrived, or part of a complicit farce. Tsuda, at least, was persuaded they were real.
What followed sufficed to confirm his judgment. Hara, despite his evident desire to have them, didn’t reach for the notes. But neither did he display the courage to reject Kobayashi’s kindness out of hand. His struggle to restrain the hand that wanted so very badly to reach out was clearly visible in his face. If the pallid youth should be ultimately unable to take the notes, the farce Kobayashi had gone to the trouble of devising would lose half its impact. And should Kobayashi be obliged to return all the money to his pocket despite his declaration that Hara should share some, the comedy would be rendered even more ludicrous. Either way, since the drama appeared to be developing in a direction that would allow him to avoid feeling that his honor had been compromised, Tsuda was encouraged to wait and watch for a while.
Soon enough, the other two commenced a dialogue.
“Hara-kun — why don’t you help yourself?”
“I feel sorry for you.”
“And I’m feeling sorry for you.”
“I appreciate that—”
“And the gentleman sitting across from you is feeling sorry for me, too.”
“I see.”
Hara’s face as he looked at Tsuda suggested he was entirely in the dark. Kobayashi promptly explained.
“I accepted that money from him just now. It’s newly accepted money.”
“Then it’s all the more—”
“Never mind ‘all the more.’ This is about ‘therefore.’ He gave me the money; therefore I’m free to give it to you. I’m free to give it to you; therefore you’re free to take it.”
“Is that logical?”
“Of course it is. If this were money I’d earned working all night to finish a manuscript for thirty-five sen a page, I reckon even I’d be attached to it a little. Otherwise I’d be insulting the sweat that dripped off my brow all night. But this means nothing. This is a donation from the latitude to hang money from trees. And the more of a blessing it is to the recipient, the happier latitude is. Am I right, Tsuda-kun, or am I right?”
Having transcended his initial mortification, Tsuda felt he was being consulted at an opportune moment. A generous concession from him would be more than adequate, in the formal sense at least, to bring to a seemly conclusion tonight’s meeting of three unlikely dinner partners. He seized the opportunity presenting itself to avoid a withdrawal that would appear awkward.
“I agree. I think that would be best.”
At the end of a further dialogue, one of the three notes was finally placed in Hara’s hand. As he returned the remaining money to his pocket, Kobayashi spoke to Tsuda.
“For once, latitude has flowed uphill. But I understand it won’t be flowing any further uphill from here. So once again I say to you, thanks.”
Leaving the restaurant, they walked to the edge of the moat and, waiting for the trolley, looked up at a night sky filled with stars as bright as the moon.
[167]
SHORTLY THEY went their separate ways.
“Travel well; I won’t be coming to see you off.”
“No? Seems like you should. Your old friend is moving to Korea, after all.”
“I wouldn’t come no matter where you’re going.”
“How hugely heartless of you. In that case I’ll drop in one more time to say good-bye before I leave.”
“I’ve had enough. You needn’t come.”
“I insist. Otherwise, I won’t feel right.”
“Suit yourself. But I won’t be there. I’m leaving on a trip tomorrow.”
“A trip? Where?”
“I have some recovering to do.”
“Recuperating in the countryside? How stylish of you!”
“I’d say latitude is making me a gift. Unlike you, I can never be thankful enough for latitude.”
“And you can never stop demonstrating to me that my advice is meaningless.”
“If we’re being honest, that sounds about right.”
“Fair enough. Wait and see which of us wins. My guess is, a little enlightenment from old Kobayashi will be easier to take than the sock in the teeth from reality you’re heading for.”