“It’s excited a man again, I say to myself. I barely have time to think how I hate it, and there it is, all busy tying a man up again. He’s been an innocent bystander and now all of a sudden he’s an ugly beast.
“I’ve stopped bringing you flowers, but I like putting flowers in my own hair when I’m by myself. I was singing and I had a pink lily in my hair.
“I don’t remember what I was singing. Isn’t it odd, when it was just a little while ago. But I think it must have been a sad, faraway sort of song, right for my beautiful voice. It’s such a bore. The stupidest song in the world is beautiful when I sing it.
“Finally the man came up to me. He was young, and so polite it made me want to laugh. But there was something dirty in his eyes. He couldn’t hide it. His eyes were like glue on my skirt. He talked about all sorts of things. But I was able to protect myself. You needn’t worry about me. I was able to protect myself. It’s you I’m worried about.
“He tried to confuse me by talking about all sorts of other things, but he kept coming back to you. He asked what sort of person you are, and how hard you work, and whether you are nice to people. I told him, of course. I told him that you are the kindest, most industrious person in the world. One thing seemed to surprise him. When I said you’re superhuman.
“I knew by instinct. It was the second time, remember? Almost the same thing happened a week or ten days ago. Somebody suspects something about the two of us. Some awful person who hasn’t shown himself has heard about me or maybe seen me from a distance, and he’s lost his senses over me, and he’s hired someone to spy on me, and wipe out a man he thinks might be fond of me. Insane love is coming nearer and nearer. I’m terrified. What will I do if harm comes to you through no fault of your own, just because I’m so beautiful? There’s a conspiracy of some sort, I know it. A conspiracy hatched up by hopeless love. Some man is so rich and powerful that it’s terrifying, and as ugly as a toad, and he’s stalking me from way off, and he’s out to get you.”
Not pausing for breath, she was trembling like a leaf.
One blue-denim leg across the other, Tōru was smoking a cigarette. He was wondering what the point to it all might be. Kinué’s dramatic imaginings quite aside, he was certain that someone was investigating him. Who would it be? And why? The police? But he was guilty of no offense more serious than smoking while still a minor.
He would think the problem over by himself; and in the meantime he would help the imaginings by giving them a logical turn.
He spoke solemnly. “Probably it is as you say; but I would have no regrets at all if I were to be murdered for the sake of a beautiful woman. Somewhere a rich and powerful and ugly man is waiting like a tiger to pounce on someone pure and beautiful. And his eye has landed on the two of us.
“You have to know what you’re doing when you fight a person like him. He has his nets out everywhere. The thing to do is pretend you’re not resisting and take plenty of time and seek out his weak points. The thing is to muster your strength and strike when you know what his weak points are.
“You must never forget for a moment that pure beauty is the enemy of the human race. His great advantage is that he has the whole race on his side. He won’t let up for a minute until we’ve knelt down and admitted that we’re human beings too. And so when the time comes we have to give in and pray to his gods. Unless we pray like mad he’ll murder us. And when we do he’ll relax and let us see his weak points. We have to hold out till it happens, all the while hanging on to our own self-respect.”
“I understand perfectly. I’ll do exactly as you say. But you must help me. This poisonous beauty of mine has me always feeling that I might stumble and fall. If the two of us go together hand in hand, why, we might wash the whole human race clean. And then the world would be a paradise, and we’d have nothing more to be afraid of.”
“Exactly. Everything is all right.”
“I like you better than anyone else in the world.” She blurted out the words as she backed through the door.
Tōru always enjoyed her absence. When such ugliness became absent, how did it differ from beauty? Since the beauty which had been the premise for the whole conversation was itself absent, Kinué continued to pour forth fragrance after she was gone.
It sometimes seemed to him that beauty was crying in the distance. Just beyond the horizon, perhaps. It called out in a high voice, like a crane’s. The call echoed and disappeared. If it took human form, it did so for but an instant. Only Kinué, a snare of ugliness, had captured the crane. And had long been feeding it with self-awareness.
The Kōyō-maru came in at three eighteen in the afternoon. No other ship was due until seven. Including nine ships awaiting berths, there were twenty ships in Shimizu Harbor.
Offshore in Third Area were the Nikkei-maru II, the Mikasa-maru, the Camellia, the Ryüwa-maru, the Lianga Bay, the Umiyama-maru, the Yōkai-maru, the Denmark-maru, and the Kōyō-maru.
At the Hinode Pier, the Kamishima-maru and the Karakasu-maru.
At the Fujimi Pier, the Taiei-maru, the Hōwa-maru, the Yamataka-maru, and the Aristonikos.
On buoys at Orito, a lumber port, the Santen-maru, the Donna Rossana, and the Eastern Mary.
Because of the danger, a single tanker, the Okitama-maru, was at a pipe in the Dolphin Area, reserved for tankers. It was on the point of sailing.
Large tankers with crude oil from the Persian Gulf anchored in the Dolphin Area, smaller tankers with refined oil could come into the Sodeshi Dock, at which there was a single ship, the Nisshō-maru.
A rail spur led from Shimizu Station past a number of berths and lonely customs warehouses deflecting the intense summer light, and deeper into the summer grasses, where from between warehouses the light on the sea told in derision of the end of land, and yet on and on as if it were meant for casting old steam engines into the sea. Then, suddenly, the crooked, rusty track came out upon the shining sea, and at its terminus was what is called the Railroad Dock. It was host to no ships at all.
Tōru had just entered the Kōyō-maru on the register for the Third Area.
It was anchored offshore, and loading operations would have to wait until the next day. There was no great urgency in sending out word of its arrival. At about four there came a call asking if it had in fact arrived.
At four there was a call from a pilot. Eight pilots worked in shifts, and the call was to inform him of the next day’s assignments.
Time heavy on his hands, Tōru gazed out to sea through the telescope.
But as he gazed the uncertainty and the phantom of evil brought by Kinué came back to him. It was as if a dark filter had been slipped over the lens.
Indeed it was as if a dark filter had lain over the whole of this summer. Subtly, evil had come over the light, to dim the radiance and to thin the strong shadows of summer. The clouds lost their sharp outlines, the sea was a blank, the Izu Peninsula invisible on the steely blue-black of the horizon. The sea was a dull, monotonous green. Slowly, the tide was coming in.
Tōru lowered the telescope to the waves on the beach.