Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Aoyama Koichi sat down on the seaside lawn of the park that was once Hamarikyu and gazed absently at the several steamships anchored there. Behind him was a bright red, gigantic sun. The surroundings rapidly deepened into the hues of dusk. Perhaps because it was a weekday. Apart from the occasional young couple passing by, there was no one else around. The fifty thousand yen he had stolen from his uncle's secret savings was squandered during ten days of travel. In his pocket remained only barely enough money for tonight’s rent.

Traveling from hot spring to hot spring, he had tried everything a twenty-one-year-old could do, but now that he thought about it, none of it amounted to anything worthwhile. That mountain, this valley, that woman, this woman—how utterly dull. A world not worth living in.

He could never return to his uncle's house. He didn't want to go back to work either. Just remembering the cluttered desk at the bicycle wholesaler and the grimy ledgers lined up before it made him nauseous. As he stared vacantly at the darkening sea and sky, that vision rose again. A naked woman filled the heavens, resembling the Virgin Mary from Western paintings yet somehow different. More beautiful and sensual. Radiating carnal lust. The young man wanted to be devoured by that beautiful woman. He wanted to be swallowed into her belly like Jonah in the whale.

To tell the truth, he had been haunted by this fantasy since boyhood. He often saw it in his dreams. When he saw the Great Buddha of Nara during a school trip in junior high, he felt so entranced he nearly grew dizzy. The Great Buddha of Kamakura felt more tangible. He could not forget the feeling when he had entered its body, so much so that he went to Kamakura three or even four times just for that. How wonderful it would be, he thought, if he could live inside it.

"I'm truly cornered now." "I wonder if it's finally time to kill myself."

Aoyama Koichi voiced aloud what had constantly lingered in the corner of his mind. Throughout his hot spring travels, the thought had constantly been with him—that once this money ran out, he would kill himself. In that thought, there was a certain sweetness.

He stared fixedly at the sea before him but couldn't bring himself to jump in. He thought there was still a little time before reaching the final precipice. That postponement felt indescribably languid yet strangely pleasant, like burrowing into a futon after silencing an alarm clock.

It grew so dark that the sea and sky were indistinguishable. The lights atop the steamships' masts began to twinkle and glitter beautifully. "I'm all alone..." The loneliness was unbearable. That morning after arriving at Ueno Station, he had watched two movies in Asakusa and Yurakucho. The movie theater crowd appeared like creatures from a different world than himself. Then he walked back and forth along Ginza Street from Kyobashi to Shinbashi three times. It was because he couldn't stay still. The people passing through there too were like foreigners.

It was getting colder. Autumn had come. The season of falling leaves approached. Koichi stood up and began walking with hollow eyes. As he wandered aimlessly wherever his feet took him, he reached the bustling Shinbashi crossing. After all—he realized—what he'd truly craved deep down was the crowd.

While thinking he wanted to disappear by blending into the sidewalk crowd, dissolving completely into that human mass, he walked toward Owaricho. "If only I could walk like this forever," he wished. But he knew that when night deepened, Ginza would transform into a ruin where the tram rails stood out starkly. That terrified him.

He walked while peering into shop windows like the rest of the crowd, but nothing registered in his eyes. Glittering items, which had no connection to him whatsoever, were merely lined up meaninglessly.

Suddenly, he stopped. It was because something had burned itself sharply onto his retina. The face that had stopped before the bright shop window was that of a beautiful woman in Western attire, as large-statured as a Westerner. Before he had committed any misdeeds, they had crossed paths twice in Ginza. He clearly remembered that it had been twice. She seemed like the wife from some wealthy household, but there was something unforgettable about her face and figure.

Koichi was following the woman almost unconsciously. He didn’t care if she noticed. None of that mattered anymore.

The woman had no companion. She walked carefreely and languidly. At the street corner stood a café as beautiful as a Western confection. After hesitating momentarily about what to do, the woman entered the shop. The young man followed after her as if pulled by an invisible string. The woman took a seat at a secluded table with no nearby customers, so Koichi walked over and settled at the adjacent table. She might have known all along she was being followed. Suddenly looking directly at the young man’s face, she smiled sweetly.

“We’ve met two or three times before.” “I remember you well, don’t I?”

Koichi involuntarily startled. He hadn’t expected at all that she would speak to him with such familiarity. Moreover, realizing she had remembered him clearly, his ears rang with a shrill buzz. He became aware his face had flushed red. “Won’t you come over here? “Your eyes look different today.” “Did something happen?”

Having been signaled with a look to come to the adjacent chair, Koichi moved there.

“So, something happened.” “Your eyes—eyes of loneliness, eyes that say life holds no meaning.” “Hey, what’s wrong?” “Did you lose your job?” Whenever the woman spoke or moved, a sweet fragrance wafted over. He felt as if the scent was emanating from her beautiful gums and rose-colored lips. “It’s worse than losing my job.” Koichi muttered in a low voice, as if tossing something aside.

“Something bad?”

The woman laughed with her lips while slightly furrowing her brows. That furrowed face appeared terrifyingly alluring to Koichi. “I’m a thief. I stole it.” “Oh my!” The woman feigned a gasp, though in truth she didn’t seem particularly surprised.

“And I’ve gone and spent it all.”

“So you're truly desperate then.” “That explains those eyes of yours.” “You look suicidal. This isn't the place for that—come to my apartment.” “We'll talk it through properly.” “Agreed?” “In your current state, you'd follow me anywhere.” “Wouldn't you?” “I don't want to see anyone else.”

Koichi was thinking about the woman’s husband, children, and servants. “Of course I understand that. “I don’t have any family.” “I’m all alone in the apartment.” The woman left her drink half-finished and stood up to head toward the counter, so Koichi followed after her. The woman hailed a car in the alley and commanded, “Near the Toei streetcar stop at Hitokuchizaka in Kōjimachi.” Inside the car, they hardly spoke. Koichi was captivated by the soft warmth coming through the fabric of their clothes.

It was an apartment like a high-class hotel. Passing by the superintendent’s room with its small window and climbing the stairs revealed the woman’s apartment at the head of the second-floor hallway. The woman took a key from her handbag and opened the door, pressed the light switch, revealing plush armchairs, a sofa, and a splendid carpet with red patterns that constituted the living room; the next room appeared to be the bedroom, where the edge of an impressive bed could be seen. “Hang on, I’m going to wash up—wait here.”

The woman disappeared into the bedroom. He noticed what seemed to be a bathroom in that direction as well.

When she emerged after making him wait about ten minutes, she had changed into something resembling a black velvet nightgown. And she held a small silver tray bearing a Western liquor bottle and two glasses. Having seated herself in the chair facing Koichi, she deftly poured liquor into glasses and extended one toward him when suddenly, “What about your parents?” she asked.

The velvet gown had a bright red silk lining. Each time she moved, it flipped up, revealing glistening upper arms and legs. She seemed to wear nothing beneath the gown—through the soft velvet, the lines of her entire body were visible. What a magnificent body, he thought. Suddenly, that colossal nude statue—resembling the Virgin Mary yet more sensual—grazed Koichi’s mind.

“I don’t have any parents.” The strong liquor in the glass burned Koichi’s throat. He felt as though he’d become the protagonist of a fairy tale. In fairy tales—or on movie screens—what gestures would the young man corresponding to Koichi make? he wondered. “I have no parents or siblings. I was raised by my uncle, but that uncle is a bachelor himself. My aunt passed away early. This uncle and I don’t get along at all. I worked at a bicycle wholesaler, but I hated that shop so much it horrified me. And so I went off the deep end.”

“So you stole the money?” “It was my uncle’s secret savings.” “It was my uncle’s entire fortune.” “My uncle has a single paper bag pasting machine and barely scrapes by.” “He’d painstakingly saved it—money that meant more to my uncle than life itself.” “I found the bankbook and seal that my uncle had hidden.” “There was about 50,000 yen…” “So you’ve spent it all. Was it fun?” “I was always one step away from suicide.” “I did have that kind of enjoyment.”

“How long has it been since you stole it?” “About ten days.” “You didn’t get caught, did you?”

“My uncle may not have gone to the police.” “Having had his secret savings stolen, my uncle must have been so shocked he fell ill.” “He might have truly fallen ill and still be lying in bed even now.” “However, because my uncle loves me like his own child, I feel he’s enduring it without going to the police.” “My uncle’s a pitiable man.” “Do you feel sorry for him?”

“He’s pitiful. However, I never want to see that person’s face again. I hate him so much it makes my skin crawl.” “You’re quite the odd one, aren’t you? The closer someone is, the more you hate them… What about friends?” “There aren’t any. Everyone’s a different kind of person from me. There’s not a single soul who understands how I feel. Ma’am, even you couldn’t possibly understand my feelings.” “Oh, ‘ma’am’? Really? Do I look like a *ma’am* to you?”

“Then what are you?” “A woman alone, just like you.” “I haven’t told you my name yet.” “I’m Sumie Aikawa.” “I’m living a self-indulgent life with money handed down from my parents.” “I’ll be your friend.” “You’re just too lonely—it’s pitiful.”

The woman stood up and moved to the sofa where Koichi was seated. At that moment, the unfastened front of her gown fluttered open to her chest, revealing a fleeting glimpse of her pink-tinged body. Sure enough, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. That glimpse struck Koichi like an electric shock. He felt as if every hair on his body stood on end. He felt the woman’s hand embracing his shoulder. Koichi covered his face with both hands and remained silent for a long time. Before long, his shoulders trembled strangely, and a voice like a young girl laughing escaped through his hands. And from between his fingers, something glittering began to seep out.

The woman silently watched it. She let him do as he pleased.

Koichi finally stopped crying and raised his tear-drenched face. Then, in a low nasal voice, he said bashfully. “Do you know why I cried?…… It’s because I like you.” He was trembling violently from passion. “That’s enough now. “Don’t cry.” “I understand your feelings well.” “I like you too.” “Your tear-drenched face looks completely different.” “You’re beautiful.” “Do you know how beautiful you are?…… I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

The woman was toying with Koichi’s hair. (Seven pages missing from 200-character manuscript paper here) He knew by the look in her eyes. “Exactly nine o’clock sharp. There’s a reason—don’t forget.”

Escorting him outside the door, she repeated it in a whisper near his ear.

Two

Miyagi Keisuke politely escorted out Minagawa Jomu, managing director of Roku Roku Company, after concluding their important discussion. He then crushed his half-smoked cigar in the ashtray and clapped his hands together twice as if dusting them off. He then stood before the mirror on the hat rack, adjusted his necktie slightly, slipped his arms into a mouse-gray overcoat, carefully brushed his soft hat with both hands, returned to his desk, took out a large leather briefcase from the bottom drawer as if handling something precious, and tucked it under his arm.

When he opened the door to the president's office and stepped out, the employees were still working. Most remained glued to their desks, though one man who had just returned from outside stood checking documents taken from his briefcase. Others chatted while standing, exhaling dense clouds of cigarette smoke. The president himself walked smiling through their midst toward the exit without leaving any particular instructions for the staff. Miyagi Trading Company had been tracing an upward trajectory in its business fortunes through its successful dealings with Scott & Co. of America.

One of the employees who had been standing and chatting approached while following the president.

“President, where are you off to today? The other day, Aiko-san was resentful, I tell you. You should visit her once in a while……” “Hey now! Watch how you speak to the President. Hold your tongue!” Although both spoke in low voices, they didn’t seem particularly concerned about being overheard. It was common knowledge within the company that the President maintained three separate residences for his mistresses. It had spread beyond the company walls. President Miyagi pretended to scold the employees’ flattery, though his expression showed no real anger. In business he was quite the capable operator, but as a womanizer and pushover, to his employees he remained a beloved president they felt at ease with.

When he descended the building’s stone steps, the driver had opened the Lincoln’s door and was waiting. “Kawada-cho.”

It was one of his nearby villas. A little past five in the afternoon, the car came to a stop at the intersection in Kawada-cho. “You may return.” “As usual, there’s no need to come pick me up in the morning.” President Miyagi had a habit of intentionally having the car stopped one block short of his villa. After confirming the car was moving away, he grabbed the usual briefcase and started walking in the direction opposite to his villa. After passing about four street corners and emerging onto the main avenue, he hailed a passing small car and ordered, “Ichigaya Station.”

By the time he disembarked at Ichigaya Station, his soft hat had somehow become a hunting cap. Without pause, he entered the station restroom, removed his overcoat, folded it compactly, and placed it inside the briefcase. The folded soft hat went in too. Then he bought a ticket to a nearby station, exited through a different entrance without boarding any train, and hailed a medium-sized taxi. When he next emerged from the restroom at Suidobashi Station, his trousers had changed to old beige gabardine devoid of creases, while his shoes had transformed into an unusually flashy pair.

This time, without taking a car, he walked to Kanda, entered a movie theater, and changed his jacket in the restroom there. He removed his dress shirt and donned a jacket with thick brown horizontal stripes. Then, he took out something resembling a large compact and applied a bit of makeup. And by the time he emerged onto the street through a different exit of the movie theater, the president of Miyagi Trading Company had completely transformed into a gang boss. He had deliberately tousled his hair, and even the way he wore his hunting cap perfectly embodied the character. A modest false mustache, subtle shadows around the eyes, lips darkened to a sinister hue—every trace that might have recalled Miyagi Keisuke had completely vanished from that face.

He hailed another small taxi and headed to Kanda Station. After leaving the briefcase at the temporary storage there, he hurried to the nearby drinking alley. He had spent over an hour on his elaborate disguise, and by now the surroundings had turned completely dark.

Entering an establishment called Blue Angel in an alley lined with drinking houses, he found the shop still completely empty of customers, hollowly quiet. The male bartender at the counter greeted him with a "Welcome." Miyagi gave a slight nod in response and ascended the back stairs to the second floor. The second floor was maintained as the owner’s living quarters, not meant for customer access. The floor had two rooms: one being a six-tatami space with traditional mat flooring, the other a four-and-a-half-tatami area containing a bed, divided by a blood-colored curtain that hung heavily across the makeshift partition. The six-tatami room held an old sofa that emitted a metallic *sprong* when sat upon—its spring wire digging into one’s backside—alongside two rattan chairs, a grimy round table, and a dim electric lamp shaded by an oversized pink cover.

When Miyagi settled into the rattan chair, Takashi the master—who had been doing something behind the curtain—poked his head out wearing a jumper. “You’re early today. You must have been eager.” “Yeah, I was supposed to come by seven. I’m starved. I don’t want anything weird—just the usual sandwich and Scotch. Hurry it up.”

The master answered “Right away,” and went creaking down the stairs, but soon returned with a silver-plated tray arranged with a plate of sandwiches, a whiskey bottle, and two glasses. “Here, have a drink.” Miyagi followed the master’s lead and, after downing about half his glass in one gulp, picked at the sandwich. It was a vulgar way of eating—his lips smacked noisily. The performance was remarkably meticulous.

“Hey, Boss Sonoda, I’m in a bit of a tight spot again. Please, do me this favor.” “Hmph. Again? Lately it’s been nonstop, huh?” “Boss, you use this place nonstop as well, don’t you?” “Yeah, got it. Well, that’s all for today.”

Miyagi—addressed as Sonoda—casually pulled out a wad of bills from his trouser pocket and handed them to Master Takashi. “When you’re done with that, bring out the thing.” “You know—the usual toy.” The master silently entered the bedroom, opened the closet, and retrieved a small automatic pistol. “Are you using it again today?” “I don’t kill people here, you know.” “Just gonna flash it around a bit.” “Though the bullets are properly loaded.”

Around the time the two of them had drunk half the whiskey bottle, a signal came from below, and the awaited guest arrived. The sound of hesitant footsteps climbing the stairs. Before long, there appeared a woman around thirty years old dressed in Western-style clothing, somewhat endearing in appearance. “Now then, please—this way.”

Takashi suppressed his expression and solemnly seated the woman on the bench. Sonoda paid no attention, nursing his glass with small sips. "Since Mr. Kawai told me to come here... this person called Mr. Sonoda—" "It's me." Sonoda turned fully around and fixed his gaze on her face. "So you want me to overlook this matter?" "Yes—I was told meeting Mr. Sonoda would grant me forgiveness." The woman spoke with every ounce of courage she possessed. Some profoundly shameful secret clearly tormented her.

“So, the price for looking the other way?” “I... I don’t have access to funds freely, so this is all I could manage.” Sonoda paid no attention to the bundle of bills she hesitantly offered. “Money won’t do.” “Then... what should I offer...?” When Sonoda winked, the master stood up and left the room. The door shut tightly behind him. And then, the stairs creaked. Sonoda stole furtive glances at the woman’s face while toying with the pistol. He opened the cylinder with a click and made a show of the bullets loaded inside.

“If I tell your husband you’ve taken a lover, things will get serious. The lover has a wife too. That’s why there’s nothing you can do. That’s your weak spot. You’ll have to obey everything I say. The evidence is all in order. Private Detective Kawai works for me. If this gets out, you’ll face ruin. Understood?”

The woman turned deathly pale and trembled uncontrollably. Even if she regretted having come, it was already too late. "You know about Jekyll and Hyde?" "I'm actually a well-intentioned person, but when I turn into Hyde, I can't control myself." "I don't give a damn about killing people." "Dr. Jekyll took his medicine, but I don't need any damn drugs." "If I use a little trick, I can become Hyde whenever I want." "A Hyde starved for blood." "A Hyde without mercy or compassion."

Sonoda bared his gums and laughed raucously. The thought of how vicious his own countenance looked at this moment filled him with unbearable delight. “Cruel fate indeed—but when I see a beautiful woman like you turn deathly pale, trembling violently, hating me like the devil himself, I just can’t resist.” “Then... what should I do?” Her eyes snapped open wide, tears swelling and on the verge of spilling. Those eyes burned with hatred. The fragile woman’s anger—this was Sonoda’s greatest pleasure. For a cat, a resisting mouse is all the more delicious.

“Hyde here... he loves making people do what they despise most and watching the show.”

Sonoda pointed the pistol’s muzzle at the woman’s chest as if joking, formed a vicious expression, and uttered in a low, forceful voice. “Take off your clothes.” “I want to see you with nothing on.” Sonoda kept the pistol trained on her while intently awaiting the spectacle—this respectable wife bound by propriety, how profoundly perplexed she would be, how shameful and awkward she would feel as she removed each article of clothing, her body twisting as if to wrench itself apart.

III

Koichi Aoyama visited Sumie Aikawa’s high-end apartment at exactly nine o’clock on the promised night. As he had been instructed, he offered no greeting at the entrance, climbed the stairs, and returned to the familiar room’s door.

He went to the barber, took a bath, and felt refreshingly transformed. I couldn’t fathom why such fortune had come to a youth like me. He was bursting with anticipation.

The lock might not be engaged. He knocked lightly at first, then more forcefully. There was no response. It stood hushed and still. He turned the knob and pushed, but it wouldn't open. The lock remained fastened after all. Surely she couldn't be absent. Perhaps she was holding her breath per rendezvous etiquette, waiting to make him use the spare key.

He took out the key and opened the door. Anticipating she might be hiding against the wall beside the door, he opened it little by little, cautiously. There was no resistance. “Ms. Sumie.” He called out in a whisper. It was eerily silent.

He entered the room and closed the door behind him. “Ms. Sumie, it’s me.”

This time, he let out a slightly louder voice. (Unfinished)