Chapter 3: A Fine Night

On the last Saturday of October, Kuki stayed home all day watching television.

There wasn’t any particular program he wanted to see, just the week’s news roundup or a golf match and the like, and when three o’clock in the afternoon rolled around, he suddenly remembered something and turned the TV off.

Kuki got up and went to his room, where he began getting his things ready to go out.

In the past his wife had helped him, but lately Kuki had been preparing everything himself.

He put on a plaid jacket, light brown slacks, and a tie, then carried the golf bag he had already packed back into the living room. His wife was at the table, fussing with the computer; with the year-end gift season approaching, she seemed to be calculating estimates for a set of ceramics.

"I’m off."

Hearing Kuki’s voice, his wife took off her reading glasses and turned around.

"You’re not coming home tonight, right?"

"Right. I’m going to a reception first, then staying one night at a hotel in Sengokuhara, Hakone. I’ll play golf there tomorrow."

With that, Kuki went to the front door, and his wife got up and saw him out.

"I’ve got a business meeting in Ginza at six, so I’ll be back late."

Kuki nodded, slung the bag over his shoulder, and stepped outside.

In truth, tonight he was going to meet Rinko. The golf bag was just cover for spending the night away from home.

Still, not everything he had told his wife was a lie.

This evening’s award banquet at a hotel in Akasaka, and the overnight stay in Sengokuhara, were both real; the award ceremony was being held by the calligraphy association Rinko belonged to, and Sengokuhara was where he and Rinko would go together.

Although it was all true, the person accompanying him was something kept strictly under wraps.

That was certainly to keep it from his wife, and it did seem a little improper, but in a marriage that had grown cold over the years, a certain amount of concealment could not simply be called malicious.

From Setagaya to the hotel in Akasaka took about an hour by car.

To be honest, there was nothing particularly objectionable about his wife.

She was six years younger than Kuki, forty-eight this year, with a round face that made her look younger than she was.

She liked to boast that young male employees guessed her age as five or six years younger than it really was, and judging by how pleased she looked, she did not seem to be exaggerating.

She was not especially striking, but she was cheerful and competent, handling housework and raising their daughter with real efficiency.

She also got along well with his mother-in-law, who had passed away ten years earlier.

If he were to give her an overall score, she would be somewhere in the seventies or eighties.

And yet that very sense of being beyond reproach made her feel too flat and dull, and that too became a kind of flaw.

Kuki and his wife had not had sex for ten years.

Of course, even before that it had not been frequent, so it had simply faded away. To him, his wife was more of a life partner than a woman.

At Kuki’s company there had once been a saying: don’t bring work and sex home. His relationship with his wife was much the same.

Maybe that was just the kind of excuse men liked to toss off, but after more than twenty years living together and knowing each other inside and out, trying to make his wife "get excited" was a hopeless effort.

After living together that long, his wife felt more like a blood relative, which was why people joked, "Don’t mate with relatives."

In short, a marriage of twenty-five years had lost both romance and passion; all that remained between them was stability.

In other words, between a man and a woman, one could have peace or passion, but not both.

It wasn’t entirely because of that, but the Kuki of today was searching for the latter, for passion, and throwing himself into it.

Saturday evening traffic was especially heavy.

When he had left home, he had thought he was setting out too early, but at this rate, making it there before five would be an achievement.

He drove through clogged Shibuya and along Aoyama Road toward Akasaka, then glanced at the golf bag on the passenger seat and gave a wry smile.

He and Rinko had traveled together more than once before, and every time they had gone straight from the office to their destination, which had been easy enough. But today was a holiday, and going out openly would have been awkward, so after thinking it over, he had settled on the story that he was staying at a hotel and playing golf with a friend.

He had told his wife that the night before, and she had not shown the slightest sign of suspicion. Even when he left this morning, her expression had been perfectly normal.

Kuki felt that his wife had not noticed anything at all, and at the same time felt that she had already seen through everything.

His wife had never been the jealous or volatile type. She never took anything too seriously, always did things her own way, and Kuki found it hard to pin down what she was really thinking.

In the end, her easygoing nature had only indulged him, and he had continued to make women friends on the side.

In that numb, calm attitude of hers, there seemed to be an unspoken belief that nagging was pointless and that in the end her husband would come back to her anyway.

But this time things were different. Kuki was taking it quite seriously, so why was she still so unconcerned?

Lately she had been absorbed in her work as a ceramics consultant, so perhaps she simply had no time for him. But then again, maybe there was some other man she was close to.

Kuki could not imagine what man would go after a woman nearing fifty, but then he was older than his wife himself, so it probably wasn’t impossible.

If his wife had fallen for someone else, it would be unpleasant, and yet Kuki had no right at all to criticize her now.

He reached the hotel at 4:50, with less than ten minutes until the award ceremony was due to begin.

He parked the car, went up to the hall on the second floor, and found a crowd of calligraphers and related guests already gathered there.

Making his way through the people, Kuki signed in at the reception desk. At that moment, Rinko, who had clearly been waiting for him, came over.

Rinko was wearing a pale purple kimono, a white embroidered obi tied around her waist, and her hair arranged high with pearl ornaments.

Looking more closely, he saw that the pattern across the kimono’s chest was made up of small chrysanthemums, the colors growing deeper as they reached the hem, where they turned into large blooming orange flowers.

Kuki stared at her dumbly, and Rinko asked in surprise, "What’s the matter?"

"You’re just too beautiful."

In a suit or in a kimono, Rinko gave off completely different impressions. In a suit she looked intelligent, lively, and charming; in a kimono she had the dignified, composed elegance of a radiant married woman.

"I kept waiting and waiting and never saw you, so I was starting to worry."

"Traffic was at a standstill."

Led by Rinko, Kuki went into the hall and sat a little way back from the center.

"You wait here for a bit."

"Where are you sitting?"

"Up front. There’ll be a small reception in the next room after the ceremony. You should come to that too."

Kuki nodded, and Rinko turned and walked toward the front. Her obi knot at her back was a double-fan taiko style.

In this calligraphy exhibition, Rinko had received an encouragement prize, and her work was on display in the museum: on a sheet of paper about a square meter in size, the four characters had been written.

"Begin with caution, end with reverence."

As Kuki read it, Rinko explained, "That’s how everything ought to be."

It was a good phrase, but to Kuki it seemed a little too solemn and old-fashioned. He almost said so, but then decided that this was simply Rinko’s way of living, and nodded in agreement instead.

First came the grand prize and the excellence prize, and then the encouragement prize, so there were three winners in all.

"You have to come."

Kuki had come at Rinko’s invitation, and he worried a little that her husband might show up as well. Surely she would not have invited both men at once.

At the scheduled time, the award ceremony began right on five o’clock.

Nearly two hundred calligraphers and related guests were in attendance. First came speeches from the newspaper that sponsored the event and from representatives of the calligraphers.

Only then did Kuki learn that this was a long-established association with a nationwide reach, and that it had already held nearly thirty calligraphy exhibitions.

After the organizers’ speeches, the awards began.

Starting with the top prize, the winners took the stage one by one to receive their certificates and prizes.

As one would expect from calligraphers, the people going up to the stage ranged from elderly men in formal kimono to young women, and each one received warm applause from the audience.

Now it was Rinko’s turn to receive her encouragement prize, and there were two others receiving awards with her: a man in his fifties and an older woman. Rinko, in the prime of her womanhood and standing between them, looked even more dazzling.

Those whose names were called stepped forward to receive their prizes, and Rinko was second.

At once, applause swept through the hall, louder than for anyone else.

Rinko bowed respectfully and accepted the prize. Kuki could not help feeling a surge of pride.

It seemed that everyone in attendance had turned their eyes to Rinko. Her face, slightly pale with tension, went beautifully with the pale purple kimono, making her look both graceful and regal, yet still lovely and alluring.

He did not know what the women guests thought of her, but most of the men seemed to be staring at Rinko onstage, surely letting their imaginations run from her beauty as she stood there to the body beneath her clothes.

That feeling of superiority was perhaps the private pleasure reserved for men who possessed beautiful wives or lovers, whether actresses or geisha.

As Kuki savored that sensation, Rinko came down from the podium amid another burst of applause. After the judges’ remarks, the award ceremony came to an end.

Next came a celebration reception in the adjacent hall, and everyone stood up and moved in that direction.

Kuki was hesitating over whether to go along when Rinko came over and said, "Just stay for a little while."

"Will it take long?"

"If we stay three or four more minutes, we can slip out."

"All right. I’ll stay a bit, then wait for you in the café on the first floor."

Rinko nodded and went back to the calligraphers.

There were even more people in the reception hall than at the award ceremony, nearly three hundred guests in all. First an elderly gentleman of great standing gave a toast, and then the reception officially began.

Kuki drank beer at a table not far from the entrance, scanning the hall as he did so. Rinko was near the main table, talking with an older man.

Apart from the celebrated masters, calligraphers were generally women, and among so many of them, Rinko’s beauty stood out strikingly.

She did not have a particularly grand or luxurious air, but her elegant bearing gave off the irresistible charm of a mature woman.

The other guests seemed to feel the same way, because a crowd of men had gathered around Rinko, all smiling as they talked to her.

Only then did Kuki realize that Rinko was a rising star in this world. As he stood there staring at her, someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind.

"So you did come after all."

He turned around and saw it was Ikegawa.

"Rinko asked me to come."

"I wasn’t planning to come, but I finished early today, so I came to have a look."

Ikegawa peered inside and said, "Seeing her that popular must make you pretty happy, huh?"

Meeting Ikegawa here made it awkward to leave with Rinko later, but being alone was boring, and having someone to talk to was welcome.

"I didn’t expect there to be so many women in the calligraphy association."

"There are quite a few in painting too, but not as many as in calligraphy. I suppose that could be considered a problem."

"It’s nice to have a lively crowd."

"Lively, sure, but as you can see, most of the famous calligraphers are men. When you’ve got that many women of different ages and types gathered around you, what do you think happens? They’re bound to pay special attention to the young and pretty ones."

"No, no, she’s an exception. Of course, if there’s a young woman among the students, they naturally become a little warmer and more attentive. That’s less prejudice than just male instinct."

Kuki listened and nodded, and Ikegawa lowered his voice.

"Some masters choose one model student and have that person imitate their handwriting, and that’s how they get selected."

"So there are different schools, or groups, I take it."

"Of course. The more famous the head of the school, the more leverage the disciples have. If not, they’re the ones who suffer."

"So it’s similar to the dance world or the ikebana world?"

"Pretty much."

Ikegawa had once worked for a newspaper, so he seemed to know the calligraphy world fairly well.

"Who buys the calligraphy that gets exhibited?"

"Almost all of it gets bought by the disciples, except for pieces by highly renowned masters or by the very few who’ve made a name for themselves in the media."

"What do the disciples buy it for?"

"To show their loyalty to the master."

Thinking of Rinko living in a world like that, Kuki suddenly felt sympathy for her, and at the same time, admiration.

Rinko in the hall seemed to notice Kuki talking with Ikegawa.

Ikegawa waved at Rinko, and when she came over, he smiled and said, "You really stand out today. I spotted you the moment I came in."

Ikegawa was always complaining that he was too shy to say flattering things to women, but tonight he was acting completely unlike himself.

"He was just telling me a few things about the inside of the calligraphy world," Kuki said, steering the conversation away.

"Like what?"

"Nothing that has much to do with you."

Ikegawa shook his head. Just then, a middle-aged man who looked like a reporter handed Rinko a business card, and the photographer following behind him started snapping picture after picture of her.

She hadn’t won the excellence prize, and yet she was being treated like a star. It had to be because of her beauty.

Kuki stepped back and watched, and Ikegawa asked, "So what are you two doing later?"

Kuki mumbled, "Well..." and Ikegawa immediately understood.

"Don’t make such a fuss about it. Tonight you two should have a drink and celebrate."

Ikegawa said it with easy understanding.

"Nobody from her family came today?"

Kuki was worried about that too and looked around the hall once more.

"But you’re awfully bold yourself. What if her husband came?"

Hearing that, Kuki had wanted to say, "Rinko asked me to come," but by the time the words reached his lips, what came out instead was the pointed remark, "She’s the bold one."

"No need to go fighting a duel over a beauty."

Ikegawa was amusing himself with his own fantasies. When he saw that Kuki had no reply, he lost interest, and after another ten minutes or so he left the hall.

Kuki was left alone again, while the reception was in full swing.

His eyes followed Rinko’s figure as he remembered Ikegawa’s word bold.

It sounded as though Ikegawa had been mocking the idea of a non-husband attending the reception. They had never said Rinko’s husband was coming, and even if he did, he would not know Kuki and there would be no trouble.

Kuki comforted himself with that thought and drank his beer. When he checked his watch, more than thirty minutes had passed, so he left the hall, went to the lobby on the first floor, crossed it, and turned left into the café.

He sat by the wall inside and ordered a coffee.

It was the weekend, and all around him were men and women who had come for weddings.

The coffee came quickly, and when he checked his watch again, it was already past 6:30.

At this rate, they would not reach Hakone until nine.

With nothing to do, Kuki flipped open his notebook. When he lit his second cigarette, Rinko appeared in the lobby.

After saying goodbye to an older woman, Rinko came toward him carrying a large paper bag.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s go."

Rinko seemed worried about being noticed and wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

The two of them crossed the lobby and went down to the underground parking garage. Once they got into the car, Rinko finally relaxed and regained her usual gentle expression.

"I’m sorry I put you through all that tonight."

"Not at all. Thanks to you, I got to see something new today. I really enjoyed it."

As Kuki started the engine, he asked, "Shall we go straight to Hakone?"

"There’s supposed to be a second reception, but I said in advance that I wouldn’t be attending."

"Do you need to change clothes?"

Rinko was still wearing the kimono she had on for the reception.

"I brought something to change into. I’ll change once we get there."

As soon as the car left the parking garage, it was enveloped in the glittering neon lights of Akasaka.

"You were unbelievably beautiful today. I only now realized how many admirers you have."

"I don’t have any admirers."

Embarrassed, Rinko turned her head toward the window and took out her compact to touch up her makeup.

"A lot of men were fawning over you, weren’t they?"

"I always go out with everyone together."

"But the professors and the big names are all men, aren’t they?"

"The professors are all old men. None of them has skin as thick as yours."

"You can’t be so sure about men."

"They’re all gentlemen, so don’t worry."

The car headed for Kasumigaseki, where it climbed onto the Metropolitan Expressway. Kuki looked at the lights flickering ahead and said, "Ikegawa said we were bold."

"Why would he say that?"

"He meant, what if your husband came?"

"He won’t come."

"He had something to do and went out?"

"No. He said he wouldn’t come, so he won’t."

Rinko’s tone was firm, with no hesitation at all.

From the Kasumigaseki ramp, the car entered the expressway, passed through Shibuya, and headed straight for Yoga. From there they would get on the Tomei Expressway and go all the way to Gotemba.

Kuki started to accelerate, then asked, "He knows about tonight’s award ceremony, right?"

He still left out the words your husband.

"Even if he knows, he wouldn’t care."

Rinko answered, gazing ahead at the blinking lights.

"Didn’t he say he wanted to come and watch at least?"

"No. He didn’t say anything at all..."

"What did you say was the reason for not going home tonight?"

"I said I was going out with people from the association."

"But he doesn’t suspect anything just because you’re not coming home?"

"He probably does suspect something."

That answer surprised Kuki a little. Gripping the wheel, he asked, "So he doesn’t mind?"

"It’s not that he doesn’t mind. He just doesn’t like prying."

Kuki still couldn’t make sense of the couple.

"So he does have his doubts."

"His pride is very strong. He doesn’t want to know anything that would work against him. If he found out and it turned out to be true, it would be humiliating."

"But if he doesn’t trust you..."

"There are all kinds of men. Some want to know everything, and some are like him, afraid that knowing will wound their pride."

"But if it keeps going on like this..."

"Yes. He suffers, and so do I."

Rinko stared ahead, lost in thought.

On a Saturday night, the highway heading south was unexpectedly clear.

After passing the Yoga toll gate and entering the Tomei Expressway, which had three lanes, Kuki pressed harder on the accelerator.

The brightly lit city quickly fell behind them, and quiet residential areas and black forests flashed past.

No matter how much Kuki thought about Rinko and her husband, it was useless. He was the one stealing another man’s wife, so worrying about her husband made no sense.

So Kuki turned the conversation back to calligraphy.

"When you sit down at your desk and pick up the brush, does your mind just calm down?"

"Even when I’m not all that calm, as I grind the ink the agitation fades on its own, and by the time I pick up the brush, my mind is already very peaceful."

Kuki had never seen Rinko writing calligraphy, but he could imagine the way she would grind the ink, spread out the paper, and begin writing. It had to be composed and beautiful.

“Handwriting reflects a person’s character, doesn’t it?”

“Of course. The brushstroke shows the person.”

It was true enough that people who wrote in a confident hand usually had a similarly easygoing personality.

“People often say my writing is feminine.”

“How about this piece?”

“Unfortunately, it isn’t very feminine. I tried hard not to let that kind of feeling come through.”

“You can control that?”

“With only four characters, more or less. I couldn’t say for certain.”

This time Rinko had written the four large characters: “.”

“I don’t know what your feminine writing looks like, but these characters have real vitality. They’re beautiful.”

“I’m glad you said that.”

“But I still wish you’d written ‘.’”

“What does that mean?”

“Careful at the start, unruly at the end.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Rinko shot him a glare. At night, she always shifted from cautious reserve into wild abandon. To witness that unbelievable transformation, Kuki was racing down the Tomei Expressway through the dark.

They reached the Sengokuhara hotel at 8:30 p.m. When they left Tokyo, they had expected it would be 9:00 before they arrived, but the roads were so clear that they got there early.

After checking in at the front desk, they were shown to a room at the far end of the third floor.

Kuki had played golf at this hotel before, so he knew that in daylight the balcony looked out over the Sengokuhara plain and the golf course.

Rinko had wanted to change clothes immediately, but seeing how late it was, decided to eat first.

The restaurant was on the first floor. Outside the windows, the night was pitch-black. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass, the pool below glowed a luminous blue under the underwater lights.

“It’s like a fairyland.”

The tension Rinko had been holding since the awards ceremony and the reception finally began to loosen.

Now that she had relaxed, the two of them had another beer. They had already eaten a little at the reception, so they ordered only a light meal.

“For some reason, I feel much more at ease here.”

Just as Rinko said, the moment they entered the mountains of Hakone, Kuki felt a sense of seclusion from the world, perhaps because they both felt guilty about their illicit affair.

A chilled appetizer of rainbow trout from Lake Ashi with cheese was brought out. After a sip of wine, Kuki returned to the topic from earlier.

“Your signature on the piece, ‘Suiyoku’—that’s a pen name too, isn’t it? Did you choose it yourself?”

“Some people choose their own. Mine was given to me by my teacher.”

“Suiyoku. That’s a nice name. I’d love to see you write something elegant under that pen name.”

“Then next time I’ll write a love poem by a famous poet.”

“How about this one?”

“Soft skin, passion, blood surging hot.

Unmoved, alone in loneliness, seeking the truth.”

Kuki recited a tanka by Yosano Akiko, and Rinko couldn’t help giving a wry smile.

He then recited another tanka, this one by Fumiko Nakajo, a female poet who had risen to fame soon after the war with Teiyama Shoshi, and who had died tragically at only thirty-six.

“We women, whether owl, tadpole, or flower,

Together with love, they occupy our hearts.

That poem expresses a woman’s allure perfectly, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s certainly a fine poem,” Rinko agreed.

Dinner was finished after ten o’clock.

Rinko had been tense all day and felt a little tired.

When they returned from the restaurant to their room and closed the door, it became their own private world. Kuki naturally embraced Rinko, and she had been waiting for this moment too; she leaned against his chest and kissed him back.

The hotel was swallowed by night, utterly silent, so quiet that they could hear the soft rustle of Rinko’s clothes. After a long kiss, she swept her hair back and walked to the window.

The glass door opened onto the balcony, where a white table and two chairs stood outside.

“Can we go outside and look?”

Rinko wanted to feel the night breeze, so she opened the balcony door and stepped out. Kuki followed behind her.

“It’s pretty cold.”

The wind that had risen after nightfall swept across the autumn plateau.

“Look how huge the moon is.”

Kuki looked up. The moon hung high in the sky, bright as water.

From inside the room, the balcony beyond had been only a dark shape, but in the moonlight he could now make out the broad grassland and golf course, with the outer ring of mountains rising in the distance like a barrier.

The clean air made the moon seem even larger and brighter than it ever did in the city.

“I almost don’t want to look at it,” Rinko murmured. “It feels like it’s shining straight through my organs...”

“Why don’t we take a moonlight bath tonight?”

“You never say anything serious.”

Rinko hunched her shoulders and said, “It’s cold,” while Kuki was already consumed by obscene thoughts.

They went back inside. The warmth of the room stood in stark contrast to the biting cold outside.

As he admired the moon, desire rose inside Kuki. Rinko was getting ready to shower.

Kuki changed into the hotel yukata and lay on the bed, waiting for her. Rinko turned off the light in the entryway and began taking off her kimono.

The room suddenly went dark. Only moonlight spilled across the window, turning it faintly pale. Kuki stared into the dim night, hushed and still.

On the left side of the bed, next to the bathroom, Rinko bent over to undress. He could hear the rustle of fabric, then she loosened her sash and slipped out of the ties, until the kimono drifted down to the floor.

At first the moonlight seemed too dim, but once his eyes adjusted, he could just make things out.

Rinko had her back to him, the kimono still draped around her, and in the haze she looked almost like a noblewoman of old wrapped in an outdoor mantle.

The sequence was kimono first, then the long underrobe, then the close-fitting underlayer, taken off piece by piece. Even before a man she had already been intimate with, Rinko still kept her back turned and stripped while wrapped in her kimono.

That was exactly why Kuki was drawn to her, because she had that kind of reserve and taste.

When she finished, Rinko went into the bathroom still wrapped in the kimono.

By then she was surely completely naked.

Kuki breathed in the scent left on her clothes and fell into thought beneath the brilliant moonlight.

There was something intoxicating about a composed, quiet woman growing unruly. If a woman was already unruly to begin with, then however much more unruly she became, there was no charm in it.

The fine spray of Rinko’s shower came faintly from the bathroom.

Kuki turned off every light, preparing for when Rinko came out of the bath.

On the surface it was consideration for her, but in truth Kuki had his own plan.

The room was warm as spring, and a soft wash of moonlight flowed in through the two windows with their curtains left open.

Once that scene had been set, all that remained was to wait for the beautiful prey to appear.

For some reason, after Rinko came out of the bathroom, she stood by the door without moving for a long time. Kuki sat up in surprise, and only then did Rinko ask, “Why didn’t you close the curtains?”

There was no need to explain. Kuki stayed silent. When Rinko went to the window and reached for the curtains, her slender figure was laid bare in the pale moonlight.

Fresh from the bath, she wore a white yukata over her naked body, the sash hanging long at her waist. Her hair was pinned up at the back of her head, and with her face tilted up toward the window, she became a blurred silhouette.

Kuki stared, spellbound, then rolled out of bed and came to the window, taking her hand.

“Didn’t I say I wanted a moonlight bath?”

“No, no.”

Kuki ignored her and dragged Rinko back to the bed.

Though she worried about the moonlight from outside, once he held her and laid her down on the bed, she yielded obediently.

“Now then, the moonlight dissection begins.”

“Don’t start playing games. I’m scared.”

“So long as you behave, nothing will happen to you. Just give everything to the moon and don’t move.”

After giving his orders, Kuki first pulled loose the sash of her yukata, then gently opened the front with both hands, exposing her full breasts.

Whether it was his command that took effect or the crystal-clear moonlight that drained away Rinko’s resistance, she had never been this docile before, and it almost made Kuki feel out of place. He then flipped the yukata fully open.

At once, her body lay completely naked beneath the moon.

Rinko’s skin was already white, but in the moonlight it seemed whiter still, with only the shadowed places left dark. She looked like a sculpture carved from white wax.

“So beautiful...”

No matter how cruel a butcher might be, the sight of a peerless beauty could stir his heart. Much less someone like Kuki, a butcher made in haste, who could not possibly resist that beauty’s lure.

He had wanted to throw himself on the naked flesh at once and assault it hard, but instead he was drunk on the beauty of the sight and changed his mind, continuing to look.

When he was young, he had only cared about taking possession at any cost. As he grew older, he preferred to savor with his eyes, becoming a moonlit gaze himself, his sharp look sweeping back and forth over that pale body.

The instant that snow-white skin and the dark shadowed places appeared together, a woman’s purity vanished without a trace.

A man was no longer satisfied with the pleasure of looking alone and began to caress her.

For thousands of years of human life, the same act had been repeated over and over, people fighting desperately for the same purpose. What they were doing now was in the same line as what people had done thousands of years ago.

“You don’t have to learn this. It comes naturally.”

“But everyone is different.”

It was true: nothing was more universal than sex, and nothing more private and secret.

Whether it was people from thousands of years ago or people in the modern age, though they repeated the same act, if you examined it closely there were endless differences, from the way they felt it to the degree of satisfaction they took from it.

Perhaps this was one area in which the world could not be said to be progressing or regressing.

Scientific civilization may have made modern people more skillful and ancient people clumsier, but both still groped their way forward from their own experiences and sensations, and both rejoiced and worried over it in the same way.

Only in this field could science or civilization hardly intrude at all. It was the wisdom and culture of a single generation, gained when man and woman touched each other in their true forms.

“Isn’t that right?” Kuki asked himself inwardly.

The long caresses and firm embrace made Rinko flare up at once.

The woman who had just been posing in the moonlight instantly turned into a pillar of fire shooting up to the heavens.

“Women are greedy, aren’t they?”

Kuki said it half as a joke and half in admiration. Rinko heard him and shook her head lightly.

“That wasn’t how it started.”

That was true enough. When he first met Rinko, she had been very guarded and slow to respond.

Now he suddenly realized that somewhere along the way, Rinko had found her own sense of pleasure, and satisfying her had become Kuki’s duty. The man who had once guided a woman had become a servant striving to satisfy her.

“I never thought you’d improve this fast.”

“And that isn’t your doing?”

For a man, there was no greater satisfaction than being praised like that by a woman.

Still, the fact that Rinko could bloom so fully also owed much to her own excellent qualities.

In other words, no matter how skillful the gardener, without a superior strain there was no way to cultivate a beautiful flower.

“It’s really because you’re capable.”

“This counts as capability too?”

“It’s hard to explain. Anyway, this area is pretty remarkable.”

As he spoke, Kuki placed a hand lightly on Rinko’s lower abdomen.

Being praised for such a place made Rinko feel a little flustered.

She had vaguely sensed her own changes lately, but hearing him put it so bluntly naturally left her at a loss.

Kuki continued, as if nothing had happened.

“It’s amazing. It’s probably one of the best in Japan.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m serious.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

Kuki had no choice but to look for the right words and explain.

“It’s a warm feeling, like being tightly drawn in from all sides...”

“Aren’t all women the same?”

“No, they’re different. Every one of them is different.”

Rinko still didn’t understand.

“A woman herself may not know it very well, but there are all kinds of bodies, from excellent to lousy.”

“That has something to do with the man too, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it does. But sometimes a man manages to be accepted, gets excited and goes in, and then feels uncomfortable and pulls out too soon.”

Rinko held back a laugh and said, “Men really are selfish.”

“Maybe a little.”

“But if he likes the woman, that’s why he goes after her, isn’t it?”

“If you don’t actually have sex, it’s hard to say.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that argument.”

“All men understand it. They just can’t say it to women.”

Seeing Rinko fall into thought, Kuki shifted the subject to the Heian period.

“In The Tale of Genji, there’s a woman named Rokujō Lady. Her private parts may not have been very impressive.”

“Really?”

After being transferred to the research office, Kuki had more chances to read.

As preparation for compiling a history of the Shōwa era later on, he mainly read modern history, though occasionally he would leaf back through books he had read before. One of them was The Tale of Genji. While researching romantic affairs in Shōwa history, he had thought of Genji and reread it, only to discover new things.

Kuki joked to himself that getting demoted had at least been good for that. Things he had ignored when he was young now revealed new value. Rokujō Lady was one of the most interesting women among them.

“She was not only noble, but beautiful and graceful, with exquisite taste. On the surface she seems like the flawless ideal woman, and yet the most important part of her body apparently wasn’t quite as satisfying.”

“Was it really like that?”

“Sadly, there are a very small number of women who are.”

“Can it be fixed?” Rinko asked seriously.

“If a man who loves her very deeply works hard, and she cooperates actively too, then it isn’t impossible. But no man can keep that up forever. There are limits.”

“But didn’t he like the woman?”

“Even if he does, if the sex is disappointing, he becomes dissatisfied. When another woman appears, his feelings can shift.”

“In the end, men are very fickle.”

“Then let me ask you this: don’t women also dislike sleeping with men who are bad in bed?”

“We do not.”

“Exactly. It’s the same thing. Men don’t want to make love to women who are disappointing or unresponsive either.”

Moonlight spilled across the bed as the two of them lay side by side, discussing the mysteries of sex.

There’s a line in The Tale of Genji about “appraising on a rainy night.” This would be a “moonlit-night appraisal.” No, since they were both naked, “nude appraisal” was really the most accurate term.

“The tragedy of Rokujō Lady, besides her excessive pride and jealous nature, ultimately comes down to this.”

“Even that’s in the book?”

“Murasaki Shikibu was a woman, so she may not have spelled it out clearly, or maybe it would have been hard to write directly. But if you analyze the surrounding passages, that’s clearly the implication.”

Rinko looked at Kuki with real interest and listened as he went on.

“Genji took a fancy to this woman, pursued her, and eventually got what he wanted: they slept together. But after finally being intimate with her, he immediately began to distance himself, and after that he never went to see her of his own accord again.”

“That’s because Genji was so cruel.”

“Right. That’s what most women would think. In fact, female critics almost unanimously condemn Genji for his coldheartedness.”

Kuki gently stroked Rinko’s back.

“Rokujō Lady also came to hate Genji’s indifference so much that she turned into a vengeful spirit and possessed Genji’s beloved wife, Aoi, and Yūgao, causing both of them to die.”

“What a vicious woman.”

“On the surface she’s calm and composed, but in fact she’s the type who takes things to an extreme. Once jealousy takes hold, she becomes terrifying.”

“But Genji was the one who grew cold first, wasn’t he?”

“That’s true, but he was in an impossible position too. A man has troubles he can’t put into words, and the other person keeps pressing him to answer why he doesn’t like her.”

“Women never really understand men.”

Rokujō Lady lost Genji’s love because some part of her body lacked appeal, and Rinko was especially concerned with that issue.

“If a man told a woman she wasn’t much good, she’d never be able to handle the shock.”

“Men would never say it outright. Even though Genji wasn’t satisfied with Rokujō Lady, he never said anything. He even sent her beautiful tanka and letters from time to time. When she went to Ise, he even visited her at Nonomiya.”

“Didn’t he dislike her?”

“She loved him, so he couldn’t be too cold. Even if he had complaints, he still had to be polite and respectful on the surface. That was probably the refinement of the Heian nobility.”

“So Genji had a hard time because of women’s praise and criticism?”

“He tried to treat them gently, but they didn’t understand him.”

“That’s only natural. It’s exactly because he acted so hypocritically kind that women couldn’t see the problem. If he didn’t like someone, he shouldn’t take such misleading actions.”

“But if Genji had seen her once or twice and then completely ignored her, what would have happened? Women would have condemned him as a cold, heartless man even more.”

Rinko thought for a moment and then said,

“Then is there any way to know without asking the man?”

“Exactly. If someone meets Genji once or twice and then never continues, that’s where the problem lies.”

“That alone proves it?”

“You can’t say it with absolute certainty, but it can be understood as a mismatch in sex.”

Talking about such a subject under the bright, clear moonlight seemed a little out of place. They should have been discussing something more refined. But if you got to the bottom of it, there was nothing more important or fundamental to human beings than sex.

“In the past, men and women never talked about this sort of thing. They never really communicated with each other.”

Rinko agreed with Kuki’s words, propped herself up slightly, and asked, “Let me ask you one more thing. There are many lovers or married couples who are very affectionate at the start, then slowly become distant. Does that also mean something is wrong there?”

“Not necessarily. Sometimes it just means they’re tired of each other. It doesn’t imply anything else.”

“Then how do you tell that apart from the Rokujō Lady situation?” Rinko’s questions were becoming sharper and sharper.

“As I said, Genji and Rokujō Lady were only intimate once or twice, and after that Genji never again took the initiative to see her. But in the case of ordinary lovers or married couples, they’ve had sex many times, and after they grow tired of each other, the man becomes less eager. It’s a completely different matter.”

“So as long as it happens several times in a row, that counts as a pass?”

“More or less. Otherwise, all ordinary housewives would fail.”

At last Rinko understood, and then she asked a new question.

“Why do men get tired of it?”

“That’s another question entirely.”

“I often hear men say that at home they don’t really care much about their wives, don’t want to try anything new, or just don’t feel much passion. What’s that about?”

Rinko’s sharp question made Kuki a little wary.

“Hard to say. Maybe men say that half-jokingly because their wives are always around and they worry they won’t be able to keep up if they get too worked up.”

This was the first time Kuki had discussed sex so deeply with Rinko. He felt a little embarrassed exposing so much of a man’s private life and letting a woman see straight through him, but intimate lovers should be able to talk about anything.

As Kuki mulled that over in silence, Rinko switched to another question.

“I’ve heard there was a crown prince in a European royal family who was involved with an older lady even before he got married. Is that true?”

The conversation had suddenly veered from The Tale of Genji to a foreign royal family, and Kuki didn’t quite know how to answer.

“And even after the prince married, he kept seeing that lady. It was almost as if the princess had become part of a three-person household. How do you explain that?”

“Do you think that’s strange?”

“I suppose it may be rude to speak that way about the lady, but in terms of both age and looks, the princess has the clear advantage. So why not just break it off with the lady?”

“That’s a very hard question to answer. There’s probably a sexual element behind it after all.”

“Even such an outstanding princess wouldn’t be enough?”

“It’s not that she isn’t enough. When the prince is with the lady, he may feel more at ease mentally, and on top of that she has more sexual appeal, so it’s hard to let go.”

“But she’s so much older, and not especially beautiful.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Kuki said, resting a hand on Rinko’s shoulder. “Sex has nothing necessarily to do with age or looks. Some women still have plenty of allure at the lady’s age, and some young, beautiful women aren’t sexy at all. In the end, there’s nothing more private, nothing more impossible for outsiders to see through, than sex. That’s exactly why it feels mysterious and fascinating.”

“Fascinating?”

“If women only won by being young and beautiful, that would be boring. To prevent that, God put this invisible but powerful thing called sex between men and women.”

Their moonlit exchange was nearly over, and Kuki was getting sleepy too, but Rinko still wasn’t satisfied.

“Listening to you, I still think women get the short end of the stick. Men don’t have this kind of problem, after all.”

“That’s not true. Men have their own troubles. Women have physical differences to deal with, but men have worries like impotence and premature ejaculation. Those are tied to mental factors too, so it gets even more complicated.”

“Can it be treated?”

“First you need confidence. Encouragement from the woman is the most effective thing of all. But no matter how dashing a man may look, if he has no sense of style or no skill in sex, a woman will get tired of him.”

“That’s true.”

“Just like women, being criticized sexually hurts men the most.”

“Do women criticize you?”

“Thanks to you, not yet.”

“Then maybe not at all,” Rinko teased him. “Sounds like men and women both have it rough.”

“There are very few men and women who are perfectly in harmony both mentally and physically.”

“But we’re all right, aren’t we? We didn’t stop after once or twice.”

“That goes without saying. You’re number one in Japan.”

Rinko leaned against him, and Kuki pulled the soft, smooth body tight against his own. Bathed in moonlight, he fell into a deep sleep.

At dawn, Kuki had a strange dream.

A man was standing in a field of susuki grass, staring straight toward him.

There was no doubt about it. It was Rinko’s husband.

Rinko was there too. She casually walked off toward the main road, leaving Kuki and that man standing face-to-face among the waving grass.

That was all Kuki remembered. He had forgotten the man’s expression, and where he had gone or when, and was left only with that cold feeling of having been seen through completely.

Kuki woke from the dream and glanced at Rinko sleeping beside him.

At some point she had put on a yukata, the collar neatly closed.

The watch by the pillow read five-thirty. Dawn was close. At the bottom edge of the heavy curtains, a thin line of morning light was leaking through.

Kuki stared at the faintly whitening window, his mind still wrapped around the dream from the night before.

He had dreamed of white susuki grass, probably because the expanse of silver grass at Sengokuhara had made such a strong impression on him on the way to the hotel. As for Rinko’s husband, he must have appeared because Kuki had never been able to let him go in his mind. Since he had never seen the man, his face and expression remained hazy and indistinct.

What he couldn’t make sense of was why Rinko had slipped sideways between the two of them, almost as if to pull them apart.

Kuki stopped dwelling on the dream and got up to the window, drew back the curtain, and looked outside. Thick fog covered everything. Only the tops of the outer ring mountains were visible, and from a distance the view looked like a pale ink wash painting.

There was still some time before full daylight. The mist blanketing the plain was just beginning to retreat.

Kuki dozed off again, and when he opened his eyes once more it was a little past seven-thirty. Bright light was showing beneath the curtains.

Rinko was still sound asleep. Kuki got out of bed alone, and through the gap in the balcony curtains he saw that day had already broken. The sky was a clear blue, and the peaks of the outer ring mountains seemed close enough to touch.

This area sat in a basin ringed by mountains, so everything below the mid-slopes was still shrouded in mist, like an oval cotton ball hanging in the air.

He had come here in autumn before, too, and only after the heavy morning fog lifted could the plain be seen at last.

Today was no different. Through the thin haze, he could just make out part of the golf course, where silhouettes were already moving around.

Then Kuki remembered what he had told his wife when he left home: that he was going to Hakone to play golf.

Did his wife really believe him? Kuki suddenly felt guilty, so he drew the curtain shut and stopped thinking about unpleasant things. Rinko heard the movement and opened her eyes.

“Getting up?”

“No. I just woke up too.”

Kuki went back to bed and didn’t tell Rinko about the dream.

“Lie down a little longer.”

No matter how enjoyable golf in the crisp autumn sun might be, it couldn’t compare with the warmth of Rinko’s soft skin.

There wasn’t much time left in their overnight tryst.

The fog outside had already vanished, but their good night was still not over.

Kuki didn’t tell Rinko that he had seen her husband in a dream at dawn, and he kept the lingering cold feeling to himself. He pulled Rinko close and fell asleep again.

It was already nine-thirty. Birds were singing outside, the sky was cloudless, and people on the golf course were chasing white balls around.

Compared with those healthy people, Kuki was still in bed, enjoying the warm body heat of Rinko beside him.

Thinking that he alone had sunk into a world of laziness, corruption, and vice, Kuki felt wonderfully content.

He lay motionless. Then Rinko gently turned her head and slowly opened her eyes.

“I fell asleep again.”

“Because you wore yourself out so much.”

“Don’t you talk nonsense...” Rinko covered Kuki’s mouth to stop him from going on.

“Oh no, it’s already ten.”

That day’s plan was to tour autumn Lake Ashi in the morning and return to Tokyo in the afternoon. Their indulgent, wilful life was about to come to an end.

“Get up.” Under Rinko’s repeated urging, Kuki finally got lazily out of bed.

The curtains were still closed and the room was dark. As soon as Rinko got up, she hurried into the bathroom.

Kuki turned on the TV. While the two of them had been lost in desire, the world outside seemed to be just the same as ever.

Before long, Rinko came out after her bath and sat down at the mirror. Then it was Kuki’s turn to go into the bathroom.

When Kuki came out, the curtains had been opened, and Rinko was sitting at the vanity near the window, combing her hair.

Watching Rinko’s white, delicate neck, Kuki said to her reflection in the mirror, “What a beautiful woman...”

“After I met you, I started wearing more makeup than before.”

“That helps the hormones flow. Even here feels smoother.” Kuki secretly brushed her hip, and Rinko hastily dodged away.

“Stop it, stop it. You’ll mess up my hair.”

“So what if it gets messed up?”

Kuki kissed the back of her neck.

“Sexual fulfillment makes women grow more and more supple, while men just get more and more dried out.”

“You’re just talking nonsense.”

“That’s the fate men and women are born with.”

Rinko found the word “fate” amusing and laughed.

“Poor men. Hurry up and get dressed.”

Under Rinko’s urging, Kuki reluctantly slipped off his yukata and changed into the clothes he would wear out.

After a middling meal in the hotel restaurant, the two of them left the hotel and stepped into the slightly chilly air. Surrounded by autumn colors, they made their way to the shore and boarded a ferry for a tour of Lake Ashi.

It was Sunday, so the place was crowded. The boat stopped partway at Hakone-en, and from there they took the ropeway up to the summit of Mount Komagatake. From that vantage point, the mountains of Hakone, distant Mt. Fuji, and even Suruga Bay all spread out before them in a single sweep.

On the 1,300-meter peak of Komagatake, brilliant red leaves covered the mountain from end to end. Reflected in the lake, mountain and water seemed to fuse into one, turning the whole scene a blazing red.

After taking in the lakes and mountains of the highlands, they rode the ropeway back down. By the time they returned to Kojiri, it was four in the afternoon. If they didn’t head down soon, the road back to Tokyo would be difficult.

“What should we do?”

Rinko didn’t answer right away. She didn’t seem very eager to go back.

“Can we go back late?” Kuki asked again, and Rinko nodded. So they decided to stay in Hakone a little longer.

“There’s a restaurant halfway up Komagatake where you can see Lake Ashi.”

They made their way through the increasingly crowded roads, then took the mountain road up to the restaurant. It sat on the slope below the middle of Komagatake, with Lake Ashi stretching below them like it was right in front of their eyes.

Only after they finished dinner in a hurry did they notice that the outer ring mountains had been dyed red by the evening glow.

The mountain was so high that sunset came early. Light leaking through the clouds slanted across the hills and the surface of the lake.

Kuki stepped out onto the terrace, gazed at the rolling mountains lit by the sunset, and whispered to Rinko, “It would be wonderful if we could just stay like this.”

Rinko said nothing. Kuki made up his mind and said, “Let’s stay another night.”

Looking out at the darkening lake, Rinko gave a slight nod. “All right.”

In truth, even though Kuki had made the suggestion, he hadn’t expected much. He had only said it offhand.

“Are you really okay with that?”

“And you?”

Caught by Rinko’s counterquestion, Kuki was momentarily speechless.

To do this, he would have to call his wife and improvise an excuse, and he still had work the next day. Luckily, his job was light and nothing urgent was waiting, but he still had to get to the office by around ten at the latest.

What worried him most, though, was Rinko’s family.

She could use the excuse that she had gone out with everyone after the reception, but would there be trouble if she didn’t come home for two nights? And tomorrow was Monday, so Rinko’s husband would have to go to work too.

“My side is easy enough to explain, but are you really all right?”

Kuki swallowed the words, “What about your husband?” and looked at Rinko. Rinko stared at the crimson sky after sunset and murmured, “As long as you’re all right.”

Once the sun went down, the lake ringed by mountains lost its shine in an instant and turned black and heavy.

Looking at the quiet water, Kuki’s mind returned to the dream from that morning.

A whole day had passed, and the dream had already grown indistinct around the edges, but that cold impression still would not leave him.

He guessed that Rinko might have been determined to stay no matter what, even if it meant running into conflict with her husband.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

Kuki asked again. More than worrying about Rinko, he was really asking whether he could take responsibility for this himself.

“Is it really all right?” he asked once more. Rinko stood motionless, staring at the black silhouette of the distant mountains.

Seeing that she had made up her mind, Kuki went to the phone booth by the restaurant entrance and called the hotel where they had stayed that day. Since it was Sunday, the hotel was fairly empty, and they still had the same room as the night before.

Then he called home with a tense heart. No one answered; he only heard the sound of the answering machine. That was a relief. Kuki left a message: “A companion invited me to stay another night. I’ll come back tomorrow.” Then he hung up.

His side was settled for the moment. But what about Rinko?

When he returned to the restaurant and told Rinko the room was booked, he asked, “Do you want to make a call too?”

Rinko thought for a moment, then stood up. In less than a few minutes she was back.

“He didn’t say anything?”

Kuki asked anxiously. Rinko answered calmly, “Who cares.”

“But tomorrow’s Monday. If it’s inconvenient, you can go back.”

“You want to go back?”

Caught by the question again, Kuki shook his head at once.

“I’m worried it’ll put you in a bind.”

“I’ll manage.”

There was something of a throw-caution-to-the-wind edge in Rinko’s tone. In that case, Kuki couldn’t say anything more.

“Then let’s stay together tonight.”

Rinko had already prepared for the worst, and the man couldn’t afford to be timid either. Whatever the consequences, as long as Rinko was with him, there was nothing to fear.

“Let’s go.”

Kuki suddenly felt a surge of emotion and took Rinko’s hand. “Thank you.”

It was less gratitude for her decision to stay than gratitude for the courage she had given him.

Once the decision was made, the two of them returned to the hotel.

They had checked out that very morning, so coming back again felt slightly awkward. The clerk at the front desk acted as if nothing were unusual and led them to the same room they had stayed in the day before.

The area was dim. The attendant opened the door and turned on the light, revealing the room exactly as it had been yesterday.

After the attendant set down their suitcase and left, the two of them stood in the middle of the room without moving. They looked at each other, then embraced tightly at the same time.

No words were exchanged, yet their hearts were already in sync.

“So you really didn’t go home after all.”

“You stayed another night for me too.”

Even though those words remained unspoken, the contact of their bodies made everything clear to the other.

Kuki held Rinko tighter, kissing her as he asked himself, “You don’t care even if your husband scolds you?”

Rinko answered with another kiss: “You don’t care even if your wife gets angry?”

A fierce kiss gave the answer: “I don’t care what my wife says.”

“I don’t care what my husband says either.”

Their cheeks pressed together, they felt each other’s emotions, and at that moment Kuki knew they had crossed the line.

Even though they had fallen for each other, neither of them had imagined it would come to this. Once they had reached this point, there was probably no turning back. Ahead lay the front line, raked by bullets, and there was a real chance they would both be struck down.

“Are you okay?”

Kuki wanted to confirm it one more time in words, but saw that Rinko was already in tears.

Were those sudden tears because she feared the consequences of being away for two days, or because she was overwhelmed by the fact that she had made such a choice?

Either way, there was nothing he could ask now.

Kuki wiped the tears from Rinko’s face, took off her top, and undid the buttons of her blouse.

Rinko closed her eyes. One garment after another slipped to the floor at her feet. At last her skirt came down too, and she stood there motionless like a doll.

Kuki lifted Rinko into his arms and carried her to the bed.

The bed was the same size and softness as yesterday.

The two of them fell onto it at once and clung to each other, chest to chest, hip to hip, their limbs tangled together. Kuki gradually felt the warmth of Rinko’s body, and at the same time everything in his mind - family, wife, work, all of it - vanished without a trace.

Little by little, Kuki melted into Rinko’s warmth, intoxicated by it. He had the strange illusion that he was being slowly drawn into a boundless space.

It could be called loneliness. It could also be called the feeling of falling.

Nothing good would come of doing this.

If it went on like this, he would be despised by his coworkers and trapped in a place he could never come back from.

He thought that, told himself that inside, and still remained entranced by the sensation of falling, surrendering his whole body and mind to the pleasure of that descent.

“Danger...”

The word flashed through Kuki’s mind, and the two of them once again fell into the pleasure garden of unrestrained desire.