Realigning the bottles of perfume on the counter, the salesgirl says, “You know, they say it’s best to use cream, powder, and perfume from the same manufacturer. I guess that’s so all the scents match one another.” She tilts her head with this final speculation.
Look at the meekness of this salesgirl with her tilting head. Salesgirls in department stores always try to bring out the best in their customers. They’re good at makeovers. They’re skilled at manipulating their own expressions. This girl’s nose is somewhat too big, but she’s rather attractive overall. I hear some students come and buy the same things every day just so they can talk to the salesgirls. Professor S——once said that department stores are the palaces of the people. Palaces where large-scale financial capitalists exploit the people, that is. These salesgirls are being exploited just like all the others. The masses are being exploited. Why? All because of the value of money. The small shop is gradually dying away. This salesgirl doesn’t have a clue about this kind of thing, however. I read a newspaper article that said a certain political faction has become involved in department stores.
From the various bottles in front of her, Kiriko picks up a flat, rose-color one and hands it to the salesgirl. “Here, I’ll take this and the powder I was looking at earlier. Please wrap them up.” With this, Kiriko opens her handbag. She’s getting out her money. Kusano averts his eyes and goes to look at the neckties lined up on the left. Whenever you see ties with stripes, the stripes are always slanted. Can’t they come up with any other designs? He runs his hand over necktie after necktie for no particular reason. Black and yellow. Red stars on a black background would be nice. Black stars. Green. Narumi often wears green neckties. I wonder how life is treating Narumi and Kiriko these days. He still keeps on translating that endless stream of insipid things just to make ends meet. He’s terribly prone to respiratory illnesses. Even if he gives it his all, does he really have the stamina to write a good play? What if he were to fall ill while trying to support Kiriko? What then? Would she show any affection for me? Yes, I’d go after her all right. One time before their marriage, he told me that I should have been the one to marry her, that I was closer to her than anyone.
Among the confused noise of the crowds filling the store, Kusano happens to catch a strain of a certain gentle melody, and he turns his head. Right in his line of vision is a series of stairways zigzagging upward, stretching to the fifth, sixth, and seventh floors. There’s a big hollow space running through this building from the first to the seventh floor. Men, women, and more women climb up and down the staircases. By the stairway on the fifth floor is a dark crowd of people. That’s where the music is coming from. An electric gramophone. It’s from a machine. What music is it playing? Schubert? People are moved only by music that evokes an old-fashioned atmosphere. Eine Kleine Nachtmusik would be better, but even so. . . . It’s Goethe’s “Heidenröslein.” “But the boy did pick the wild rose upon the moor. The rose fought back and pricked, but ’twas of no avail, and oh, the rose did suffer, losing all its scent. Wild rose, wild rose, wild red rose, wild rose upon the moor.” In time with the music, Kusano slowly taps his toe, making the tip of his shoe bob up and down.
Following on the heels of the song is Kiriko’s voice. “It’s teatime. Shall we head over to the dining area?” The two of them set out. In front of a basket overflowing with artificial flowers stands a sign announcing, “One Bouquet, Thirty Sen.” Hats, spring hats—all sorts of women’s hats. Shawls, down-stuffed mattresses. My heart is as light as air today, thanks to this little promenade with Kiriko. How do we look to others as we walk together like this? Like college lovers maybe? Like Kiriko and I are a couple? Did the salesgirl at the makeup counter imagine us walking together through the suburbs on clear days, kissing in the shade of trees, going to see new releases at the cinema, then climbing into a wide bed in a hotel somewhere? Did she imagine us shedding our clothes next to the bed, then hopping in? If Narumi ruins his health by working too hard and leaves Kiriko all alone, would she be willing?
Kusano and Kiriko climb the stairs. Straight ahead of them is a gigantic mirror which reflects the full length of their bodies as they walk up the stairway side by side. Kusano gazes nonchalantly at their reflection. Next to Kiriko, who is clad in a simple, Western-style outfit of light green, stands a tall, uniformed university student carrying two books under his arm. When I see us walking together like this, side by side, we really do make a superb couple. I’m tall, and that makes me handsome. The suit my uncle gave me isn’t in the best shape, but next time I’ll be sure to wear it. Clothes like this make Kiriko look rather ordinary, but still they don’t detract from the beauty of her eyes or her shapely legs. Her legs! Her flesh, as white as the driven snow. . . . I’ve seen her without her clothes on. One time when I went to the Parnasse Theater to see Narumi, he wasn’t there, but lucky for me, I barged on into Kiriko’s dressing room anyway. She was inside in a state of undress. She was turned sideways and was crouching as she changed. She didn’t get rattled or rush to pull on her clothes. She just turned her head to me and said, “Now’s not a good time, Kusano-san.” They say all actresses have an exhibitionist streak. That sure is the truth. Ever since then, whenever I see Narumi’s face, I can’t help recalling Kiriko’s nude body that day.
The two turn again and climb the winding staircase to the second floor. Children’s clothes, children’s hats, bedclothes, cotton, muslin, public telephones. Women wander through the products, pulling things out and turning them over in their hands. A father tries a hat on his child’s head. No need to stop here. As they climb the stairs to the third floor, Kusano says, “I’ve finally got some free time at school. I’ll have to come see you soon so we can have some fun together.” Kiriko responds, “Yes, you do that. We’ll play bridge or something. It’s been so long.” From high above, the gramophone resounds with the solemn, sad strains of Schubert.
II. Miwa Kiriko
The actress Miwa Kiriko sits next to Kusano Hitoshi, the university student in the liberal arts. They are in the Roof Garden, which doubles as an observation deck on top of M Department Store.
Kusano tilts his hat against the strong wind and tries to light a cigarette. After failing twice, he succeeds. Gazing over the city streets below, he exhales, releasing a cloud of smoke. Kiriko watches him. So even he is smoking these days. Still a kid really. Guess his uncle is a supervisor at some steel manufacturer. Guess Kusano’s now studying to be a poet, philosopher, or something. Narumi keeps saying that what Kusano calls studying is really just messing around. He says he wants to write a novel, for goodness’ sake. Unlike Narumi, he still doesn’t have clue about the real world. Narumi says he’s going to make some free time and get to work on writing a full-fledged play, but he’s still got all that translation work to do. He’ll have to get that finished first.
Kiriko lifts her eyes. Straight ahead, construction workers are busy expanding the seven-story building that is home to S——Bank. As the workers drive in rivets, they make an intense racket that fills the whole sky. bririririri rrUrUrUrU rrrrrrrrUU. A crane raises a steel girder like a fishing pole lifting a fish. Sitting atop the steel girder is a man in blue clothing. What would happen if the steel cable couldn’t support the weight and just snapped? There’d be flesh scattered everywhere. His arms or legs would probably get caught under the girder and be ripped right off. A great hole penetrates deep into the earth of the construction site. The basement alone is going to be two or three stories deep. I wonder what they’re going to put in there. Boiler rooms, vaults, what else? I should hold off a little longer on giving a response to the Palace Theater. As it stands now, the conditions of my contract are worse than Suzuko’s. The situation’s absurd. I’ve got to have my own dressing room no matter what. But if I stay away from the stage for too long, people’ll forget me and I’ll lose my fans. Maybe getting married and leaving the Parnasse has already affected my popularity. Even so, there’s no way I’m ever going to play second fiddle to Suzuko, pro
vided I’ve still got this face and body. I’ve got to keep from getting pregnant. But will that be enough?
Kusano spots a yellow hot-air balloon at the end of a row of roofs that sparkle in the afternoon sun. He points it out to Kiriko. “Look, a balloon. It seems to be holding up some kind of advertisement. See that red flag fluttering underneath it? There’s some writing on it, but I can’t make out. I’m nearsighted, you know.” Kusano grimaces as the sunlight hits him full in the face. Kiriko gazes in the direction he is pointing. In the midst of the soot and smoke of the city, above the fringes of the streets of G——where countless railroads and cars come together in a great jumble, there floats a single, yellow, helium-filled balloon. Hanging from it is a transparent banner with something written in red letters. It looks like it’s floating in water. What does it say? Kiriko squints her eyes against the backlighting of the afternoon sky. “The bottom character is ‘liquid.’ Could it be for facial lotion or some kind of medicine?” I couldn’t care less. Does Kusano still have feelings for me? Before Narumi and I got married, he let his feelings for me show in all sorts of ways. His eyes were enough to tell me everything. I’m sure he’s got feelings for me even now. Kusano’s so childish, the way he shows his emotions. When we talk, he avoids making eye contact, but when I’m on stage, his eyes were practically glued to me. He always used to sit in the east balcony. He never applauded. He just pretended like he wasn’t paying attention to me. About Narumi. . . . He’s probably oblivious. He did warn me about Shikayama and the theater manager, but that whole mess was much more concrete than this one. I probably could have developed feelings for Shikayama. There was that stage set with the gigantic flower that opened to fill the entire stage. When it was closed in a bud, the two of us could squat and fit inside just perfectly. When we’d dance, he’d grab my thighs and lift me high. Ah, Shikayama. . . . His eyes would scare me so.
“Hey, hasn’t Narumi finished that translation of his yet?” Kiriko realizes that Kusano is talking to her, and she turns to face him. “He’s still got about a third to go. He kept saying he wanted to get it done, but he seems to get lazy sometimes.” “Yeah, such jobs get tedious. Same thing happens to me. Narumi tells me you’re going to appear on stage somewhere. Where is it again?” So Narumi is already spreading it around, is he? Kusano probably already knows I’m going to be in the Palace Theater. “Nothing is carved in stone yet, but an acquaintance from the Parnasse has put in a good word for me somewhere.” “I’ll be sure to go see you. Where will it be?” “Maybe at the Palace.” He does still have special feelings for me. In those days, all my fans would clap and call out my name, “Kiriko!” Just take a look at me in the bath. I still am beautiful. My legs are my best asset. As long as I don’t get pregnant, I’ll be all right. As long as I don’t get pregnant. . . . But I do hope that they work out the conditions of my contract. . . . Kiriko crosses her legs. Then she shifts her gaze to the lines of her calves so that Kusano will not notice. Still looking good.
As she looks down, she sees the sidewalk on the west side of G——. It appears to be far below the tip of the shoe covering the foot she holds in midair. By her heel, she can see half the show window of A——bookstore, which specializes in volumes in foreign languages. Next to that, Q——clock store. Y——Grocery. Three or four doors down is Cannes, which sells ladies’ clothing. In front of it stand two men, one of whom leans on a walking stick as he eyes the clothes on a mannequin inside. No doubt he’s criticizing them, even though I’m sure he doesn’t have a clue about such things. The man on the right in the golf clothes has a nice build. He dresses well, too. My girdle has come a little loose. Am I getting thinner? The girdle I bought the other day was three yen. Next time, I’ll just make due with a cheaper one that only costs two yen or so. If Kusano wasn’t here, I could go pick up one in the ladies’ department. And then, the end of the month is drawing near.
Suddenly the sound of rivets being driven home strikes Kiriko’s ears, bririririri rUrUrUrUr rUriririri. Kusano says something to Kiriko, but it is inaudible, swallowed up by all the noise. Kiriko nods and smiles at him nonetheless. Again, Kusano says something. I can’t hear you. Kiriko covers her ears with both hands and smiles. brUrUrUrUrUrUrU. Kusano smiles as if he has given up. When he smiles like that, he does have a certain charm. Maybe that was one reason Tsukiko found him so appealing. “Hey Kiriko-san, you know that student who comes so often to see Narumi? Will you introduce us some time?” But because I’ve got this strange competitive streak, I never did. Should I tell him about her? If I did, would he be interested in her? Would he take my interest in fixing him up as a pretense to draw close to me and perhaps even do something else?
Four female students appear and take seats beside where Kusano and Kiriko are sitting. While chatting, they unwrap their packages and take out the envelopes, blotting paper, magazines, and other things they have just purchased. They huddle up close to one another then burst out laughing. The last girl on the far side glances in Kiriko’s direction. Maybe they know me. If I’m going to tell him about Tsukiko, it’d be better to stand over there out of earshot.
Kiriko stands up, prompting Kusano that she is ready to go. “Let’s go back down.” Kusano lifts himself absentmindedly from the chair, and with Kiriko at his side, he cuts across the roof garden toward the stairway. A group of children are gathered around the slide. One child shows another some goldfish. A monkey runs around the inside of a cage. Young girls, company workers, senior citizens, sailors—all stand there in the sunlight. Kiriko says to Kusano as they walk, “You know Tsukiko from the Parnasse? She’s really interested in you. Want me to introduce you to her?” As she speaks, Kiriko gazes intently at Kusano’s profile. Well? Kusano does not notice and nonchalantly replies, “Sure.” Not much of a reaction. Or maybe he’s just acting this way on purpose. They turn by the slide and linger a moment by the entrance to the stairwell to avoid running into the people coming up. Kusano has an idle look, but suddenly he turns to Kiriko and asks, “When will you be starting?” “What do you mean?” “When will your debut at the Palace be?” Kiriko suppresses a smile.
He’s been cooped up in thoughts of me this whole time. Just me. He still cares for me. Holding back the smile rising to her cheeks, Kiriko answers as coolly as if she were speaking of someone else altogether, “I think it’s going to be at least another two weeks.”
III. Shikayama Hikaru
After finishing a late lunch in the dining area on the roof of M Department Store, Shikayama Hikaru, an actor at the Parnasse Theater, happens to notice Miwa Kiriko and Kusano Hitoshi having a cup of tea in the opposite corner.
Oh my, that’s Kiriko. She’s here with someone. Shikayama instinctively turns away. Narumi, she’s living with Narumi. I wonder whether she saw me. Shikayama shifts his chair and draws himself into the shade of a pillar. Who is that over there with her? Wait, it’s Kusano. The university student. Narumi’s friend. Son of a bourgeois family. He also is in love with Kiriko. Is Narumi really oblivious, or is he just pretending not to know? Narumi’s got it good. In the end, I didn’t do it. I had the chance, though. But could I possibly do such a thing to a girl like her? I made a big miscalculation when trying to figure out who she was and what she was feeling. That mistake was all too clear when I woke up from death in that hospital bed. I had thought that what she felt for Narumi wasn’t love. According to her, though, there’s no way to differentiate clearly between love and other emotions. I didn’t realize that’s what she thought. I was too willing to believe that her relationship with Narumi was something less than love. The only person I warned was the theater manager. Imagine, the theater manager. He’s the nastiest man alive when it comes to women. I’ll go out this way before they see me.
Shikayama stubs out his cigarette in an ashtray and pulls his hat toward him. He does not stand up, however. He looks in Kiriko’s direction. As she and Kusano drink their tea, they chat quietly about something. Kusano nods. With folded hands, Kiriko explains something to him. Kiriko
’s hands. Almost every night, I’d take them and dance with her. When I embraced her, she was as light as a child. Now she has given that flesh of hers to Narumi. She has grown up completely and become a real woman. Spectators who don’t know much about us assume that she’s officially my lover. On stage, the two of us were inseparable. We’re a set in the theater world. That’s because my unbending sense of humanity, more than anything else, put the theater manager at ease and made him think she was safe with me. I had thought Kiriko would be mine. Narumi treated her like a little sister. Did he really think of her in that way, or was he shrewd and just treat her that way as the quickest means to get to her? She’s a strange woman. She’s so childlike, yet at the same time, she’s always on the guard against the opposite sex. Before we left on our tour of the country, Narumi got the jump on me. At some point he returned to Tokyo and disappeared with her. It was all over for me after that. Everybody says she abandoned me for Narumi, but I never whispered even a single word of love to her. So why is Kusano here with her now? Did he meet her in town somewhere, or could something be going on between them? No, that’s impossible. Then again, he did watch Kiriko and me on stage with almost painful intensity. I know for a fact that even when she was on stage, Kiriko was intently aware of his burning eyes. Narumi probably doesn’t know that, though. There’s a possibility that it might work between them. But what does that matter to me in my present state?
The Columbia Anthology of Modern Japanese Literature: From Restoration to Occupation, 1868-1945: vol. 1 (Modern Asian Literature Series) Page 65