I remember Yōko and Mom saying to each other that she shouldn’t do that sort of thing, that it wasn’t very nice to Meiko.
“This always happens with you two. That’s why I don’t use any of your things—not your makeup, not your clothes. I don’t care how poor I am, I’ll buy whatever I want myself,” Yōko declared.
“Anyway,” Moeko said. “Let’s get Nanako to decide who’s the most beautiful.”
The three of them finally fell silent.
“You’re all pretty, all three of you. So stop fighting.” It was obvious what my answer would be, but still they insisted on asking me that mean-spirited question.
“You’re such a flirt,” Moeko teased.
“Really, you three,” Mom sighed. “Can’t you go even one day without fighting?”
“Maybe not,” Yōko said. “Maybe we can’t live without fighting. I mean, it’s fun.”
“Nanako,” Moeko said, hugging me from behind, kissing my cheek. Did she leave a trace of her lipstick there? I found myself glancing down at my feet.
“Not fair, Moeko,” Meiko said, kissing me on the forehead.
“Me too,” Yōko added, kissing the back of my hand.
I felt suddenly embarrassed. I could hardly sit still. My cheeks were starting to burn. I wanted to run away somewhere and hide, but there was nowhere to go. That was how I felt. Why? I wondered. A feast—my three sisters and me. Even though it should have been me who had been longing for this moment for so long. Even though this should have been the realization of that sacred dream that I had thought would never come true. My sisters, on some kind of whim, had ended up carrying out this sacred ceremony. My sisters, calculating, forceful, impure, and yet also beautiful.
I wouldn’t be able to withstand their malicious kisses. I was sure of it.
Moeko hugged me from behind, her arms holding me tight. “Hey, Nanako. Why don’t you try putting some on as well?”
“No,” I answered. “I’m not interested.”
“Just a bit of gloss won’t hurt, right?” Meiko said. “Hey, Yōko. Why don’t you help her out?”
“Good idea,” Yōko said, taking some gloss onto a brush.
Meiko and Moeko held me down. Yōko started to paint the gloss on my lips. They felt sticky. But what my sisters were doing to me was almost like the kind of sensual doctor–patient games that young kids play. My chest felt like it might explode.
“Take a look, Nanako,” Moeko said, passing me the hand mirror. “See how beautiful you are?”
I looked timidly into my reflection, but there was no change.
Once the three of them had gone back to their rooms, I took another look in the hand mirror. I picked up a tissue, thinking to wipe away the gloss—but before I could raise it to my lips, I hesitated. These lips. They were Yōko’s lips. And I realized then that the reason why she doesn’t leave any lipstick on her cigarettes was because she only wears gloss.
I was fascinated by those lips. I touched them gently with my finger. They were moist with the gloss, and surprisingly comfortable. I would probably never forget this moment, I thought. I had learned today that I was just like Yōko. Soon, I would become a woman, like her, filled with contradiction and stubbornness.
I stared into the mirror. I looked a lot like her after all. From here on out, I would almost certainly take on the features of my other sisters too. This town, its face comprised of both glitzy Yamanote and earthy Shitamachi, was exactly the same as the pure yet dissolute faces of us sisters. And those faces, those two parts, would never be lost. Not even in the arms of some good-for-nothing man who might one day show up from somewhere far away.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Maki Kashimada’s first novel Two won the 1998 Bungei Prize. Since then, she has established herself as a writer of literary fiction and become known for her avant-garde style. In 2005 she received the Mishima Yukio Prize for Love at 6,000 Degrees Celsius, a novel set in Nagasaki and based on Hiroshima mon amour by Marguerite Duras, and in 2007 she took the Noma Prize for New Writers for Picardy Third. She was nominated three times for the Akutagawa Prize before ultimately winning the award in 2012 with Touring the Land of the Dead. One of her best-known works is The Kingdom of Zero (2009), which reworks Dostoevsky’s The Idiot into the tale of a saintly idiot in Japan. She has been a follower of the Japanese Orthodox Church since high school.
Copyright
Europa Editions
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New York, N.Y. 10019
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2015 by Maki Kashimada
All rights reserved.
Original Japanese edition published by KAWADE SHOBO SHINSHA Ltd. Publishers.
This English edition is published by arrangement with KAWADE SHOBO SHINSHA Ltd. Publishers, Tokyo
c/o Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo
First publication 2021 by Europa Editions
Maki Kashimada has asserted her right to be identified as Author of this Work
Translation by Haydn Trowell
Original Title: Meido Meguri; 99 no seppun
Translation copyright © 2021 by Europa Editions
The translation of this work was supported by an Australian Government Research Training Program (RTP) Scholarship
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Cover Art by Emanuele Ragnisco
Cover illustration by Ginevra Rapisardi
ISBN 9781609456528