by Kōbō Abe
XXXIII
Thirty minutes after the ship began moving, Ōkane came to call on Kyūzō. The captain and “doctor” were waiting on deck. As if by common consent, the three men tried hard to affect a nonchalant manner, but their focus was elsewhere. Kyūzō didn’t particularly care, however, as he was relieved to have been allowed out of the engine room and now found himself engrossed in the brilliance of the sea that he was looking at for the first time.
“It really is very blue, isn’t it?”
“It’s called the Yellow Sea because it’s yellow,” the doctor replied laughing.
Surrounding Kyūzō, the three men walked toward the stern. “We’ve got something interesting to show you.” (“Right. Didn’t General Bai also say something like that? He was referring then to that bloodied wagon driver.”) “What is it?” “Come and see.” Gray birds were circling above the mast. The sky was blue. I suppose that the sea is really not all that blue. Perhaps it’s more blue-green. Kyūzō peered at the side of the ship. Countless bubbles emerged from beneath the light cobalt-colored water. Just like cider, he thought, suddenly feeling thirsty.
Below the ladder leading up to the lookout in the stern there was a low side door. Inside was a dark tunnel. On each side there was a single door. Knocking on the door on the right, Ōkane called out.
“Are you resting now, sir?”
“Oh, please come in.”
A hoarse, phlegm-ridden voice replied from inside. At that moment, Kyūzō had a strange feeling that he had experienced exactly this same moment a long time ago. Turning the knob, Ōkane quickly looked at Kyūzō, then nodded to no one in particular. The small, elongated room was unfinished and approximately five square meters in size with a low ceiling. There was a filthy round window. Below the window stood a crude and narrow wooden bed. On the bed was a man with thinning hair and khaki-colored clothes hunched over a newspaper.
The man slowly raised his head. He knit his eyebrows and tilted his head. It was Kō Sekitō!
No one spoke. It was as if the flow of time were being held back by the monotone hum of the engine. A cockroach as large as a man’s palm dropped noisily from the ceiling. Someone breathed a heavy sigh.
“So I wonder which one of you is the real Mr. Kuki Kyūzō.”
As Ōkane uttered this remark, Kō rose to his feet at the same time.
“Hello there! So you’re safe!”
Kyūzō closed his eyes. He felt like he wanted to fill his entire body with a smile, and yet he also wished to turn his body into a clenched fist and strike Kō. Caught between these two contradictory, fervent emotions, Kyūzō merely felt an unbearable sense of fatigue. He felt ill. Perhaps it was seasickness.
“Seems like you couldn’t get away with it,” the captain said hurriedly, rubbing his hands together.
“I’d like to speak to Kuki alone for a bit.”
“But I thought you were Kuki,” replied Ōkane with a smile.
“I guess you’re out of luck,” the doctor groaned.
The newspaper that Kō held in his hands was shaking. His wide-open artificial eye glared at the ceiling. Only Kyūzō noticed, however, that his half-open seeing eye was peering closely at the door.
“I’d like to speak alone …”
As Kō rubbed his face, pieces of thin, frostbitten skin peeled off and fell to the floor. His entire face was mottled like a map. I’m sure my face looks the same way, thought Kyūzō.
“He says he wants to speak to you,” Ōkane stated, looking solemnly at Kyūzō. Kyūzō’s lips moved slightly, but he was unable to speak. “It’s too late,” whispered the doctor. “Well, let’s settle things over there,” said the captain, jerking his chin as he took a step forward.
The newspaper left Kō’s hands and slipped across the floor. At the same time, he thrust the captain aside and rushed toward the door. There he collided with Ōkane, and the two fell in a heap. Blood began to flow from between the captain’s fingers as he covered his face. Kō screamed as he grabbed Ōkane’s face, while Ōkane screamed as he pressed his fingers into Kō’s neck. Straddling the two men on the floor, the doctor pinned Kō’s arms behind his back. Kō kicked his legs up in the air from behind. Adjusting his cap as he held his right hand to his bloody nose, the captain pressed his left arm against Kō’s right elbow. Ōkane stood up, brushed the dirt from his clothes, and with a roar wrapped his arm around Kō’s left elbow. The doctor lifted up Kō’s clothes in the back and patted the vest. “You can’t move freely with something so heavy attached to you.” “Let me go! I’m not like you bastards!” “That’s obvious,” shouted the captain, plugging up his nose.
“You stay here,” Ōkane ordered when Kyūzō tried to follow them.
“That’s right. After all, this room is rented out to Kuki Kyūzō,” chimed in the doctor, nodding.
Entangled together, the men left the room. For a moment, Kō looked back over his shoulder. Kyūzō could not understand the meaning of his gaze. However, he vaguely remembered the eyes of something he had seen at the bank of the marsh.
Kyūzō felt nauseous. The entire cabin creaked as it began to list. He stumbled to the middle of the bed. Kō’s body odor still covered the stiff blanket. Kyūzō pulled in his arms and legs like a threatened spider, and his heart also recoiled like a threatened spider. He felt as if he were in a room whose four sides were stretched by a mirror, such that front and back were indistinguishable. He was sure that he had walked on and on for a long time through the wide world, but now he even felt as if everything were just an internal event. What is Kō doing here now? he wondered. Serves him right! You reap what you sow! Still, those guys are really violent. They didn’t need to be so rough with him. But I wonder if I should have let him speak with me alone, as he said. We have so many things to talk about. He owes me a lot of money. But those guys wouldn’t …
As the cabin creaked like an old chair, the horizon slipped from the window and crept up toward the sky, shone white, and then tumbled down. An ominous thought weighed on Kyūzō: Those guys wouldn’t … Once that unpleasant thought came to him, however, it revealed itself to be far more convincing. Could those guys really be so angry simply because Kō had falsely used Kyūzō’s name? No chance! They had to be after Kō’s vest. What were they planning to do with him now? Of course it’s not my fault, it’s punishment. But they wouldn’t possibly kill him. We’re now in Japan, after all …
Ōkane returned carrying a kettle of water and a steamed potato wrapped in paper.
“There’s a food shortage in Japan. What, are you feeling sick? It’s because the wind has picked up a bit. Well, get some sleep until you’re used to it.”
“How about Mr. Kō?”
“Huh? Oh, him? Don’t worry about that. Just pretend he never existed. The only guest on this ship should be Kuki Kyūzō. Hah!”
“But there’s something I’d like to talk to him about.”
“You can’t talk with someone who’s not here. Don’t worry about that. Forget about it. It’s for your own good. Now then, there are only four people in the world who know what just happened here. Besides, that guy isn’t really Japanese.”
Kyūzō closed his eyes. We still haven’t arrived in Japan, he thought. Ōkane removed something from his pocket and placed it on Kyūzō’s pillow. “You can play this if you get bored,” he said consolingly.
It was a rusted, peeling harmonica.
XXXIV
SHIP LOG OF THE TŌKŌMARU
(February 22, 1948)
Time: noon
Nautical miles traveled: 384.6
Course: S 75 E
Deviation: 6–22 W
Wind direction: S 20 E
Wind speed: 15 knots
Weather: b (fair)
Air pressure: 1,015 mb
Report: In accordance with Article 27 of Seafarer Law, we have taken appropriate steps regarding the passenger Kō Sekitō, who assumed the name “Kuki Kyūzō,” for committing assault. The real Kuki Kyūzō regained his health
yesterday evening. After being sprayed thoroughly with DDT, he was ordered this morning to assist the cook as a steward. He raised various objections with regard to the fake Kuki’s illegal belongings, creating a nuisance. He still must be convinced. At 3:00, we arrived at a coastal area and anchored off K Island. We waited until sunset, changed course to S 10 E while watching the O Lighthouse off the starboard bow, and should now arrive in P Harbor in approximately two hours. No additional items are to be noted.
XXXV
Kyūzō was desperate to find out Kō’s whereabouts. He was driven neither by mere sympathy nor desire. Rather, the emotion was akin to a bestial lust for revenge.
Having been assigned to help with the cooking, Kyūzō brought food for the first time to Ōkane and the two others below the map room. Upon seeing the captain proudly toying with the Mongolian knife and Dania spoon, he asked for these back and was promptly struck so hard on the wrist with the knife handle that it left a mark. This treatment brought out a clear sense of defiance in him. Another major reason for his frustration was because they steadfastly refused to tell him the name of the town where they would enter port. It was essentially useless to ask the sailors on board. It seemed that these sailors had already received certain instructions, and they appeared to even avoid speaking with him.
“No need to be in such a rush,” remarked the captain, who seemed to even find amusement in Kyūzō’s impatience. “Things won’t be so good once you leave the ship. You’ll wind up an urchin, wandering about scrounging in garbage. Best to spend a bit more time enjoying yourself here.”
“Urchin! But I’ve got money. I’ve got the share that Mr. Kō will pay me. Please give that money back to me!”
“Kō? Let me see, I’ve never heard of anyone by that name.”
Damn it, me an urchin! Kō clearly promised that he’d give me five hundred thousand yen. From beginning to end, I’ve been abandoned over and again. Now when I’m finally about to reach the last door, I’m still treated like this! I should be fairly compensated for all my suffering. Beside himself with furious anger, Kyūzō was barely able to control himself until they reached port.
On the very day that they were heading into port in the evening, Kyūzō became convinced that Kō was still alive somewhere on board the ship. While washing the empty pot after they had finished the last meal, he suddenly noticed Baldy, the cook, filling an empty can with leftovers. There had been no sign whatsoever of anyone keeping pets on board. No question about it, thought Kyūzō.
“What are you doing with that?”
“How would I know?” The cook tried to hide his discomfort with his shrill laugh, but he clearly looked flustered.
“You’re bringing that to Mr. Kō, right?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m just delivering this because Mr. Ōkane, the purser, asked me to.”
“Please tell me where Mr. Kō is. Please, I’m begging you.”
“I said I don’t know. I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
Kō is alive! It has to be Kō! If this is the kind of food they’re giving him, then he must really be treated badly. Kyūzō began trying to persuade the cook. After all the pain and suffering he had been through, he now had a right to know where Kō was. If the cook told him, then Kyūzō would of course do what he could for him.
“Shh!” The cook appeared to play the fool as he looked around exaggeratedly, the flab on his neck shaking. “Now then, I didn’t hear anything you just said. You’ve really got a loose tongue! You’re forgetting that you’re with a group of reckless men who’ve got no fear of death. Knock on wood, I didn’t hear anything. If you insist, just go ahead and take these leftovers from me and bring them to the purser yourself. Then you can ask the boss in person. At any rate, you might want to remember this one thing: to have no fear of death means to have no fear of someone else’s death. It doesn’t mean your own life, for these men value their own lives twice as much as they do anyone else’s. Look at this.” Removing a bottle from below the cooking counter, the cook filled an aluminum cup about halfway, added a pinch of salt and some water, skillfully waved it about, and then gulped it down, coughing. “That is undiluted medicinal alcohol. Now look at this one,” he said, taking out another bottle, uncorking it, and then pouring about the same amount gently down the sink. The line of its flow shook like a pendulum along with the ship’s rocking. “Understand? I got this second bottle from the doctor. It was among the cargo that we picked up the day before yesterday. No one knows exactly what it is. Maybe a bit of methyl is mixed in with it. No matter how much of an addict I might be, I wouldn’t be able to take it. That’s why I pretend to drink it and put it in a place that’s easy to see. But no, you shouldn’t think that the doctor is a bad man. He’s probably the kindest man on the ship. It’s just that he has no fear of death. And I’m the same way. I pretend to drink it and then leave the bottle out. Well, he’s probably known all along that I don’t drink it. So if you plan to join up with these men who have no fear of death, you need to take better care of your own life. As long as we know this about each other, we can feel calm and at ease being with men who’ve got no fear of death.”
With a heavy sigh, the cook looked quite pleased with this talk as he wiped his tomato-red brow with the sleeve of his work clothes. He pushed the empty can toward Kyūzō. “Well now, bring it to him. Take it from me. But just remember that I didn’t hear anything.”
Cracking his knuckles, Ōkane gave Kyūzō a wry smile. He then told him Kō’s whereabouts in a surprisingly matter-of-fact manner.
“I guess you’re pretty perceptive. You can just bring him the food yourself, if you won’t regret it. Was it Baldy who told you?”
“No, I figured it out myself. Where is he?”
“In the hold.”
It wasn’t exactly the hold, however. When Kyūzō opened what appeared to be a storeroom door in the left-hand corner of the engine room, he found a low side opening—Kō was locked up in the back there. It was a narrow, rectangular gap surrounded by the wall of the hold in the front, the wall of the engine room in the back, the cistern on the right, and the side of the ship on the left. The curve of the ship’s side was directly connected to the wall of the cistern, so the room was actually floorless. Probably the same gap could be found on the starboard side as well. The ventilation was good, but the rumbling and heat of the engine were horrible. Kō’s ankle was shackled to a hole in the iron plate that formed part of the seam in the wall. His body was beaten and his clothes were torn up. With his feet propped against the vertical wall and his back held against the curved wall, he gazed up at the ceiling, which extended all the way to the deck. A large, dark blotch appeared below his artificial eye. Light leaked in from somewhere, faintly illuminating the oxide-red walls.
Kō’s mind appeared to be as shredded as his clothes. He didn’t even glance at the can that Kyūzō held out to him.
“Mr. Kō!” Kyūzō tried calling into his ear. “Are you all right? It’s me, Kuki.”
“Aah!” Kō’s handcuffs rattled as he shrank back in fear. Slowly turning his seeing eye, he stared at Kyūzō’s face. With his swollen lips partly open, however, he showed no emotion whatsoever.
“What happened? They stole the vest, right?”
Kō coughed and spat loudly. He then began to murmur something under his breath. Kyūzō leaned forward, straining to hear. Opening his arms, Kō grabbed Kyūzō by the shoulders as if embracing him.
“Actually, there’s something I’ve wanted to discuss with you. Listen, it’s an important secret. I bought this ship. But as you know, I’m actually on an important mission. That’s why I’ve got to hide like this. But thank you for visiting me.”
Kyūzō felt spooked. Instinctively he tried to pull back but was restrained by Kō’s strong arms. Kō continued in a monotone, as if singing.
“Wait. The thing that I wanted to tell you. No one’s listening, right? Actually, I’ve been charged with the task of establishing the ce
ntral government in exile of the Republic of Manchuria. But the situation seems to be pressing, and I’m thinking about holding the presidential inauguration ceremony now. This is top secret, of course. Now I’d like you to attend. Understand? I’ve been charged with this task. This is top secret, and I can tell only Japanese people, but the fact is that I’m really Japanese. My name is Kuki Kyūzō. But Manchuria and Japan must become allies. My name is Kuki Kyūzō and I’m really Japanese. It’s been officially recognized as the central government in exile of the Republic of Manchuria. And secretly …”
The rumbling of the engine that seemed about to strike one, the heat that appeared to take on color, Kō’s stinging bad breath, and his slow, pressing repetition … Kyūzō could no longer stand it and forcefully pushed Kō away. Kō fell over on his side uttering inanities: Ho, ho, ho! Leaving the can at his feet, Kyūzō banged into things left and right as he desperately escaped.
“What’s wrong, sir? Good riddance, right?” The chief engineer greeted him with a cruel smile. “I’m sure your room is better than this one.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Ōkane with a forced laugh as he locked the side opening.
“In any case, I think your room used to be a morgue. I was worried, you know.”
“That’s ridiculous! It was just a storage room,” Ōkane remarked flippantly, joining in on the joke.
A young sailor raced toward them yelling.
“We’ve spotted land. Land!”
Kyūzō passed the sailor as he went out. He ran up the stairs, pretending to appear on deck. Kō’s fate could no longer be someone else’s problem. He had to settle this somehow before they arrived in port. Everything depended now simply on whether or not he could grab the stuff. If only he could lay his hands on the stuff, then he was in control. He could threaten to rip the bag and scatter the drugs to the wind or maybe throw the bag into the sea. Nobody would be able to interfere then. If the stuff was anywhere, then it had to be in the room of those three men below the map room. The captain was probably in the map room while Ōkane was still down below. If anyone remained in the room, it would just be the doctor. Surely he’s asleep drunk, as always. Even if he’s awake, a man like him would surely understand. After all, it’s my legitimate right …