Beasts Head for Home

by Kōbō Abe

  First, he tore off his chest badge and buried it in the ash. Picking the badge back up as he reflected for a moment, he decided that it really had to be buried. Jabbing his fingertips against his knees in an effort to stimulate blood circulation, he proceeded to the next task. Pulling his bag over, he took out a document, folded it in half, and concealed it in the bottom of his shoe. Once that was done, he again tried to awaken Kyūzō. Yet Kyūzō wriggled away, clutching the blanket and showing no sign of releasing it. After some struggle that appeared fruitless, Kō gave up and began removing his coat.

  He then unbuttoned his jacket. His teeth chattered and his filthy face was utterly drawn of blood, the color that of a rusted metal clasp. Only his lips were shockingly white. He threw off the knitted shirt that he wore underneath. A thick muslin vest appeared. Running vertically along the garment were several evenly spaced stitches, between which seemed to be a kind of padding that was round and swollen. It looked like a bulletproof vest.

  It appeared that this was what Kō wanted. Untying the strap, he threw off the vest. Now he put his clothes back on as if grappling with them, beginning with the shirt. He had grown terribly thin. Twisting his body as he groaned with cold, he began cursing.

  “Hey, wake up!”

  Kyūzō screamed, covering his face with his arms. Kō placed his hand behind Kyūzō’s neck and pulled him up roughly.

  “I said wake up!”

  “Let me be! Stop it!” Kyūzō replied in a hoarse voice, falling back limply.

  “Kuki, come on, boy. Please wake up.”

  While uttering these words, Kō began to roughly undress Kyūzō. Just as Kyūzō was about to raise his hands to resist, Kō crossed them together at the knee and continued his work.

  “You can’t sleep. Listen to me, all right? You’ll die if you sleep. You won’t be able to return to the Japanese mainland. Just put on this vest. It’s for your own good. It’s warm. You can still feel my body warmth in it. Come on, be tough!”

  Wriggling away, Kyūzō spat in Kō’s face. Kō, however, showed no reaction. Fully unbuttoning the outer part of Kyūzō’s coat, he grabbed hold of the collar and yanked it down. With his arms restrained behind his back in the manner of a straitjacket, Kyūzō could no longer move.

  “Stop it! What are you doing?”

  “Like I said, I’m putting this vest on you.”

  Kō pulled Kyūzō’s arms out through his sleeves. His face drawn, Kyūzō let out a horrible scream. Waiting for his arms to be released, he groped for the knife handle and brandished the blade at Kō, who shouted at him.

  “Idiot! Hurry up and put the vest on!”

  Twitching, Kyūzō stared at Kō with a frightened look, screaming at him intermittently. Kō struck his cheek with the back of his glove and repeated harshly, “Hurry and put it on!”

  Kyūzō no longer resisted.

  The vest was very heavy. It was a strain just to breathe, as his body was already numb with cold. The garment was slightly too large for him, but he was big for his age and could more or less get away with it if he put it on from the top.

  Shoving Kyūzō as he staggered about, Kō continued to press him.

  “Where did you put the certificate? The certificate … the Russki certificate?”

  “Why? Give me back my knife!”

  “Idiot! A wagon’s coming.”

  “Wagon?”

  “Haven’t I been telling you for a while now? We can get food and there might be water. Hurry! Hide it in your shoe!”

  “Where?”

  “In your shoe.”

  “The wagon?”

  “That’s enough!” Without thinking, Kō struck him hard across the cheek.

  Slowly removing his shoe, Kyūzō murmured in a low voice, “You’ll regret that.”

  As he regained his physical sensibility, the stiff vest became a terrible hindrance.

  “What is this thing you’re making me wear?”

  “I’m sure it feels warm.”

  “Don’t give me the runaround!”

  “I’m not. I’m making a request, so I’ll tell you.”

  “Damn it!”

  Kyūzō was utterly unable to tie the laces on his shoes. Kō tried to help but was unsuccessful. Leaning over the shoes, Kō finally managed to tie the laces together with his teeth.

  “Give me back my knife.”

  “Sure.” Spitting off into the distance, Kō lay down heavily on the ground. Suddenly his voice became leaden.

  “Listen. Can you hear it like this?”

  “Yes.” Kyūzō lay down alongside him. Drawing the blanket up around him, he suddenly yelled frantically, “It’s a wagon! It’s the sound of a wagon!”

  “Of course. It’s still far away, though.”

  “No, it’s near!”

  “There’s no need to rush. You know, I …” Kō continued in a gasp. “I’m not an ungrateful person. I’m entrusting you with all my fortune. I’m sure you’d be shocked to know how much it is. Maybe you won’t believe me. There’s probably enough to buy fifty foreign cars. Are you shocked?”

  “It’s opium, right?”

  “I’ll do what I can. I’ll give you one hundred thousand, two hundred thousand—even five hundred thousand. With that much, you should be able to start your own small business. Please, I’m asking you. I’m a wanted man. I’ll look after you until we board the ship. Hey, are you listening to me?”

  “But …”

  “Don’t sleep. Just hold out a bit longer. It’s easy to lose heart at the end. Try hard. Just a bit more effort.”

  “But why me?”

  “As I said, I’m a wanted man. Don’t fall asleep!”

  “Damn it! I wonder if there’s food in that wagon.”

  “Of course there is.”

  “But I don’t understand why you first sought me out.”

  “It was out of sympathy. Seeing someone from a defeated nation wandering about all alone.”

  “Only that?”

  “No.”

  “So then I was a scapegoat, right? Damn it, my head aches.”

  “I’m not someone who uses people for nothing. In any case, I’m asking you. It’ll be good for you, too. Just take my word on this and listen to me. Soon you’ll understand. I’m not like those other bastards. In several years from now you might hear rumors about me. I’m sure they’ll shock you. Perhaps you’ll recall what we talked about now.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve suffered a lot because of you.”

  “You may not feel that way later. Soon you’ll understand. What! That’s right, you won’t know until much later in the future.”

  “My head is aching!”

  “Just hold out. It won’t be long now.”

  XXI

  There was only one wagon. It was a large type used for long-distance travel, and was roughly covered in the front by a sedge canopy. The setting sun shone brilliantly from behind, hurting the eyes to look at it. The horses were clearly old, with exposed ribs, but there were in any case two in harness. Swinging his legs one after the other, a young man wearing a rubber raincoat and wrapped in dog fur skillfully drew his three-meter whip in the air.

  Seeing the two men suddenly appear from the shadows of the embankment, the young man first recoiled with a start. He had heard rumors of suspicious people in the area, but this was the first time he had actually encountered any. He deeply regretted the fact that he had not listened to his wife’s warning that the day was an unlucky one. Yet he felt relief when he noticed that the men were miserably covered in ash and barely able to stand on their feet. They did not appear to be capable of doing any great harm. The young man felt confident in his ability to fight, if it came down to that.

  Summoning his last ounce of strength, Kō continued standing straight. It was his abiding belief that the measure of human dignity could be found in the fact that man stood upright. He was perhaps not entirely wrong in this. Although intending to stand erect, he in fact kept wobbling strangely. It was thus at t
he same time impossible to regard him as having dignity.

  Kyūzō had already sat down. A sense of laxity that they were now saved enveloped his body in a kind of sweet lethargy, numbing him even to his hunger. Even the thought that they were playing with the rapidly growing possibility of death must have brought him pleasure.

  “I’m afraid we’re lost,” Kō said to the young man, walking ahead to hold the horse by the muzzle when he saw that the youth had no intention of stopping. Using all his strength to avoid falling over with inertia, he spoke loudly in a voice that was like a draft of wind. “We’ve gotten lost.”

  “Lost? Lost coming from and going to where?” the young man asked mockingly. Yet perhaps his intent was not to mock. Rather, it may simply have sounded that way on account of his strong, virtually unintelligible accent—which was perhaps from the plateau region beyond the Stanovoy Range. “We got lost,” Kō replied, avoiding the question. “Are you taking this wagon across the Kai River?”

  “Yes.”

  “To Horqin Left Middle Banner?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are there soldiers there?”

  “Uncle, the man is asking if there will be soldiers,” the young man inquired, turning around to address someone in the canopy before then asking Kō with an innocent look, “Would it be better if there were soldiers?”

  “Which side are they from?”

  “Well, which side would be better for you?”

  Shivering, Kō leaned on the wagon shaft, barely holding himself up. Placing his hand in his pocket, he intimated the shape of a pistol and shouted forcefully, “Don’t fuck with me!”

  “I’m not. I’m serious. I ask because I left the Middle Banner one week ago. Some of the Nationalist troops were still there. But they were quickly pulling out. They said that all the troops would pull out soon. I’m serious. I wouldn’t know these things.”

  “How much to give us a ride to town?”

  “How much do you have?”

  Crawling on all fours by Kō’s feet, Kyūzō said under his breath, “Ten thousand yen.”

  “Three hundred yen,” Kō answered, drowning out Kyūzō’s reply.

  “So you’re Japanese?”

  “Take us to town for three hundred.”

  “If you’ve only got three hundred, I bet it will be difficult to pay that much.”

  “We’ve got five hundred in total.”

  “But uncle, the regular price for two passengers is really five hundred.” A low groan and gurgling-like cough escaped from the canopy.

  “All right, five hundred. Take us to town.”

  “Really?” Laughing amicably, the young man got down off the wagon. Easily lifting Kyūzō, he offered his arm to Kō. “Hey, that’s a nice blanket. Uncle, make some room for them.”

  Soon raising his whip high, the young man deftly made two parallel strokes in the air, driving on the horses as he struck one and then the other side of the road. “Uncle, share some food with them,” he said after a while, turning around. “We’ll arrive in town tomorrow morning.”

  By then, however, the two men had already slipped under the pile of empty gunnysacks and were sleeping like things.

  XXII

  The wagon stopped once after sundown. The old man warned the younger one when he grew concerned that Kyūzō was no longer breathing. After placing his ear next to Kyūzō’s mouth and confirming that there was still some life in him, the young man built a fire and boiled water on the roadside before carrying the two men out. He shook and hit them, but still they did not wake up. It was only when he poured strong spirits into their mouths that they finally regained consciousness. He then grilled some fried bread that was now frozen cold, spread some miso paste on it, and fed them. He had them chew on some garlic and sip hot water laced with alcohol. Although half-asleep, the two men greedily devoured the food. Kyūzō was so hungry that he at one point mistakenly bit into his own finger. Shrieking, his gaze met the surrounding scenery for the first time. The old man, with hollow cheeks, large eyes, and a protruding lip, fidgeted as he lit the tip of his tobacco pipe with thick, sinewy fingers. The film of flame, red on the surface and green below, flickered like the hands of a dancer. Beyond there stood a high cliff made of red clay, and the pattern of lines visible on the soil layer appeared to be dimly floating. Apart from thickets of rough bushes dotted here and there, the filthy snow and weathered rock face endlessly overlapped, creating the deep mountain folds that surrounded them. The dark sky bent with the weight of the stars. Turning around, Kyūzō saw that the moon, like a nail mark, was shining strongly in its ascent. There rose up a large pine tree that he had not previously noticed. Just one tree as far as the eye could see. Suddenly he began sobbing.

  If left alone, the two men would never have stopped eating. When Kō had finished his third and a half piece of fried bread and Kyūzō his fourth, the young man extinguished the fire and sealed the willow basket containing the food. He was a kindhearted fellow.

  When night broke, however, the two men awoke in an abandoned, roofless house. The afternoon sunlight was already waning, and shadows climbed up nearly one meter on the wall. All the parts made of wood—the floor, posts, door, and window frames—had been removed. On the earthen floor, which was roughly fifteen to twenty square meters in size and surrounded by a sky of exposed brick, fragments of broken roof tile and concrete lay scattered about everywhere.

  Kyūzō was the first to awake. He had no idea whatsoever as to where he was or what had happened. His entire body ached heavily, and he even had no idea about his sleeping posture. A tree stood outside the broken window. As he stared at the tree, feeling somehow drawn to it, it overlapped with the image of the pine tree from the mountain last night, and from there he recalled in succession the wagon, the young man, the wasteland, and the dog. But he knew nothing about what had happened after the wagon. Where could this place be? Why was he here?

  Like yesterday, the sky was a dull red and the temperature noticeably higher. A dog was barking somewhere in the distance. Turning his head with great effort, Kyūzō saw that Kō was sleeping right next to him. On the edge of his slightly open lips, several small icicles hung down along his unshaven beard. One of the icicles had grown quite long, nearly five centimeters. Beside it the fur from his raised collar fluttered slightly, and this alone proved that he was still alive.

  It took a long time to awaken Kō. During this time, Kyūzō realized that his blanket had been stolen. Wrapped inside the blanket were just a couple of pair of underwear. No matter what, the loss of the blanket was disappointing. Gazing around, he noted that Kō’s bag also seemed to have disappeared.

  Provoked by the theft of his bag, Kō suddenly got up. Shivering with his head in his hands, he grumbled and cursed for a long time. Based on what he was saying, there didn’t seem to be anything of particular value in the bag. He was especially vexed about losing the book, Journey of Vengeance along the Tōkaidō Road, as well as a half dozen bars of soap. The book, Journey of Vengeance, had been a gift from an officer in the secret services division of the Kwantung Army named Lieutenant Yoshino, who on the title page had written the following words in his own hand:

  Gift: to Mr. Kō Sekitō

  If I’m a man, then you’re also a man.

  Army Lieutenant Yoshino Hiroto

  “I suppose you’ve never heard of him. He was a great man, originally from Fukuoka. That’s right! In our line of work, there wasn’t anyone who didn’t know Lieutenant Yoshino. After all is said and done, he was a great man. Good memories, damn it! It was his own handwriting, and so was of some value, after all is said and done …”

  Kō’s memories of the soap were similarly unrestrained. The soap wasn’t like those substitutes made from fish oil. Rather, it was made from acacia in the good old days, was of a beautiful color, and lathered up entirely differently. Grumbling for a while alternately about the soap and Journey of Vengeance along the Tōkaidō Road, he then turned to the lost bag itself. Apparent
ly it was made in Tianjin from a single piece of cowhide. Kō had received it from a certain government purveyor with military contacts, and it was far better than the stuff one could buy nowadays.

  Suddenly he turned Kyūzō around, asking uneasily, “Everything all right?”

  “My blanket’s stolen.”

  “And the other thing?” he replied, striking himself firmly in the chest. He meant the vest.

  It’s fine, Kyūzō nodded. Relieved, Kō appeared now to begin thinking of things more normally, tilting his head as he thrust his fingers into his shoe and then placed his hand inside his pocket. For some reason, neither the money nor pistol had been stolen. Following his example, Kyūzō also checked his belongings. His money was safe, as were his knife, the Dania spoon, and even his wristwatch. The very fact that his clothes were not stripped from his body was incredible, but how strange it was also! Really, that young man must have been exceptionally decent.

  “No, that’s not it,” Kō considered, narrowing his eyes. The spasms that crawled up from his feet gathered around his neck, intermittently erupting around his jaw. After the eruptions subsided, he let out a long sigh. “No. There must be some reason for this. Those men ran into some trouble, panicked, and then left us. They must have been so hurried that they didn’t have time to check what was on us. What could it be? Yes, they must have come across thieves who were even more ruthless than themselves—tough bastards who would’ve seized the bag, blanket, and money for themselves.”

  “I bet they were soldiers.”

  “That’s my guess too. Rather than run into that kind of trouble, they stole only the blanket and bag, as those wouldn’t be noticed, and then tossed us here. Damn it, it’s a high price for that travel fare.”

  “Shall we get going?” Kyūzō asked, stretching to peek out the southern window. There was a road that turned left after two or three hundred meters, beyond which appeared a long earthen wall. “The town is nearby.”

  “Hmm, wait a moment. Which side do you think those soldiers are on? Yes, the way I see it …”

  “In any case, let’s go. We need to find some food.”