Chapter 1: Sunset

"How frightening..."

Hearing that, Kuki involuntarily stopped moving and quietly studied Rinko's expression.

Kuki's broad back covered Rinko's slight, well-proportioned body.

Through the dim light of the bedside lamp, her brow was tightly furrowed and her eyelids trembled faintly, as if she were crying.

Rinko was close to the peak of pleasure; her mind and body had broken free of every restraint and were sinking step by step into ecstasy.

Why would she say "frightening" at a time like this?

Kuki asked softly, "What's frightening?"

The warm breath at her ear made Rinko shiver all over. She did not answer.

"What exactly are you afraid of?"

When Kuki asked again, Rinko finally said lazily in a low voice, "It just feels like the blood inside me is flowing backward, like it's about to surge out of me..."

Kuki had no way to share that sensation.

Rinko pressed herself tightly against him. Kuki wrapped his arms around her burning body and clearly felt how different she had become.

The man slowly slid his hand over the woman's back, rubbing up and down. By then Rinko seemed to have forgotten the frenzy from moments before. Quiet as a virgin, she closed her eyes like an obedient little dog, enjoying the caress, and slowly shut her eyes in satisfaction and peace.

When the two of them fell asleep, it was always very comfortable. When they woke, it was often with Rinko's head resting on Kuki's shoulder, numbing his arm.

Sometimes their upper bodies did not touch, and only their legs were tangled together.

As for tonight, it was still hard to say.

In any case, both men and women like that afterglow, when bodies neither cling nor separate, but lie together just so, feeling that drifting, tangled languor that lingers in the bed after sex.

Lost in that sensation, Kuki felt no sleepiness at all. He glanced at the window hidden behind the curtains.

It was almost six. The sun was slowly curving down and sinking into the distant horizon.

They had arrived at this inn yesterday.

On Friday, Kuki left the office in Kudan just after three, met Rinko at Tokyo Station, and took the Yokosuka Line to Kamakura.

The inn stood on the Shichirigahama coast. In summer the seaside road was crowded and noisy, but once September came the traffic thinned out, and it took only twenty minutes by taxi to reach the inn.

Kuki chose this inn for his trysts with Rinko because it was about an hour from Tokyo, had the feeling of a trip away from the noise of the city, and looked out over the sea. It was also in old Kamakura, with an elegant atmosphere, and because it was a newly built inn with few regular guests, it was less likely they would run into anyone they knew.

No matter how careful you were, there was no airtight wall.

The publishing company where Kuki worked was fairly relaxed about men and women, but if anyone found out he had come to a hotel with a woman who was not his wife, it would still cause trouble.

Up to now, Kuki had always been very cautious in his dealings with women, so people would not point fingers behind his back.

But after meeting Rinko, he no longer had the heart to deliberately avoid other people's eyes.

Partly because being able to date such a lovely woman like Rinko was worth any amount of risk. And partly because a year earlier he had been stripped of his department head post and transferred to the relatively idle research office.

That personnel change had hit Kuki hard.

Before that, Kuki had been in the company's core like everyone else, with a chance to rise step by step.

When he was fifty-three, there had even been rumors that he would be a candidate for the next executive lineup, and he had believed it himself.

Yet overnight, instead of being promoted, he lost his post as publishing director and was transferred to a department everyone knew was a dead end.

Looking back, he realized that two years earlier a new president had taken over, and the president's favorites and inner circle had been gaining power. Kuki had underestimated it, and that was what led to this result. Now there was no point saying anything.

Kuki understood that if he missed this chance, then in two years he would be fifty-five and there would be no more hope of promotion. Even if he did move up, it would only be to some more tedious post or a branch office.

Then Kuki suddenly had a new realization.

From now on, there was no need to work so hard. He could live more freely.

However unwilling you were to lose, a person only gets one life.

Once his way of seeing things shifted just a little, the things he had once thought important became trivial, while things he had once dismissed suddenly felt precious.

After being removed from his post, Kuki was nominally an "editorial board member," but in reality he had almost no real work to do.

The research office gathered various materials or organized special features from those materials and provided them to the relevant magazines.

And none of that work had any fixed deadline.

Only when he had so much free time did Kuki realize he had never truly loved a woman with his whole heart.

Of course, he had felt affection for his wife and for other women, and had secretly indulged in affairs, but it was always lukewarm, never a blazing passion.

If he lived like that, he would leave himself with a huge regret in life.

It was at that time that Matsubara Rinko appeared before Kuki.

Love often begins by chance, and the same was true of Kuki and Rinko's meeting.

Three months after he was transferred to the research office, at the end of last year, Ikegawa, who worked at the cultural center affiliated with the newspaper company, invited him to give a lecture there on writing methods for a class of thirty students.

Kuki demurred, saying he had always worked in editing and rarely wrote himself, so he really had nothing to lecture about.

Ikegawa urged him not to worry and said he only needed to talk about the kinds of writing he had read over the years and his experience turning manuscripts into books.

Ikegawa even added, "Besides, you're pretty free right now," and that was what finally moved Kuki.

In truth, Ikegawa had not simply invited him to teach. He also wanted to give the idle, listless Kuki a bit of a push.

Ikegawa was Kuki's classmate from university. After they both graduated from the literature department, Ikegawa joined a newspaper while Kuki entered a publishing house, and the two of them often went out drinking together.

Six years earlier, Kuki had become publishing director, and soon after that Ikegawa had become culture director.

But three years ago, Ikegawa was suddenly transferred to the cultural center in Tokyo.

Kuki did not know how Ikegawa himself felt about that transfer, but from the way he said, "It'll be my turn to break through soon," he seemed to still feel some attachment to headquarters.

In any case, in terms of "breaking through," Ikegawa had moved one step ahead, and worried about Kuki enough to invite him.

Kuki understood that as well, accepted the invitation, went to the cultural center that evening, gave a ninety-minute talk, and then had dinner with Ikegawa.

There was also a woman at the table, whom Ikegawa introduced as the calligraphy instructor at the center. She was Rinko.

If Kuki had not accepted Ikegawa's invitation, or if he had not brought Rinko to dinner, there would have been no meeting between the two of them, and no extraordinary relationship like the one they had now.

Love truly is a destiny that defies understanding. Every time Kuki thought back on his chance meeting with Rinko, he felt deeply moved.

The instant he was introduced to Rinko by Ikegawa, Kuki felt some inexplicable excitement.

To be honest, Kuki had had relationships with women other than his wife before. Not just when he was young, but even in middle age he had known his share of women.

Some said they were drawn to his depth; others said they were captivated by his boyish air, which seemed out of place for his age.

Kuki took those strange compliments with a grain of salt.

But with Rinko it was more than that. He found himself genuinely investing real feeling in her.

For example, after seeing her only once at Ikegawa's introduction, one week later he took the initiative of calling her himself using the business card she had given him.

He had cared about women before, but he had never made such an active move. Kuki himself found it a little baffling, but once an arrow is loosed, you can't call it back.

Later, they were calling each other every day, and by the beginning of spring that year, their hearts had finally come together.

Just as he had sensed, Rinko was an enormously attractive woman, and Kuki found himself reconsidering exactly what it was that drew him to her.

In terms of looks, she was not a stunning beauty. Her face was small and delicate, and she was likable. Her figure was slight and well balanced, and in her fitted skirt suit she looked calm and refined.

She was thirty-seven, looked very young, and what attracted Kuki most of all was Rinko's love of calligraphy, especially her mastery of kaishu script, which she had even come to the center to teach for a while.

At their first meeting, Rinko left a deep impression on him with the discipline and elegance of her kaishu style.

Rinko grew gentler and kinder toward Kuki, until she gave herself to him, and then gradually fell completely apart, unable to hold herself together.

From Kuki's male point of view, that process of unraveling was so lovely and tender.

After making love for a while, the two of them would hold each other tightly, each able to sense the slightest movement of the other.

As soon as Kuki turned his head toward the window, Rinko's left hand timidly reached for his chest. Kuki gently held her hand down and checked the clock on the bedside table. It was ten past six.

"The sun's almost down, isn't it?"

Looking out through the wide floor-to-ceiling window, he could see Shichirigahama and Enoshima spread out before him, with the setting sun about to sink beyond them.

Yesterday, when the two of them had come here, the sun had been just about to set, and they had watched the blazing, fireball-like sun slowly sink down beside the bridge that spanned to Enoshima.

"Come take a look."

Kuki said this to Rinko, got out of bed, picked up the robe that had fallen on the floor and put it on, then opened the curtains.

At once, glaring sunlight poured in, lighting up the floor and the head of the bed.

The sun had just reached the hill across from Enoshima, and the lower half of the sky was stained a vivid red, fading little by little.

"You caught it just in time. Come look."

"I can see it from here too."

Afraid of the sudden brightness, the naked Rinko wrapped herself in the sheet and looked toward the window.

"It's even redder and bigger than yesterday."

After drawing the curtains all the way open, Kuki returned to Rinko's side and lay down.

The heat haze of early summer still hung in the air, making the sunset seem even larger than life. As the bottom edge of the sun touched the hill, it quickly shrank and warped, becoming a solid dark crimson clot of blood.

"I've never seen a sunset this beautiful before."

Rinko's burning body seemed to be settling down little by little too, like the setting sun vanishing into the sky.

Imagining that, Kuki moved in behind her and stroked her stomach with one hand.

After the sun slipped below the horizon, the remaining scarlet light hurriedly turned purple, and then darkness covered everything around them.

Once the sunlight was gone, night descended at once. The sea that had only moments ago been glittering gold was instantly black, with only the outline of Enoshima in the distance and the reflected line of the shore clearly visible.

It was only last night that Kuki had learned there was a lighthouse on Enoshima, and that the faint beam from it mingled with the lingering glow of the sunset.

"It's dark now."

From the way she said it, Kuki faintly sensed that Rinko was thinking of home, and he held his breath.

According to Ikegawa, Rinko's husband was a professor at the medical school of a university in Tokyo, nearly ten years older than Rinko, perhaps forty-six or forty-eight.

"His only redeeming quality is that he's honest," Rinko had once said half-jokingly. And through a friend Kuki had learned that the man was also tall and handsome.

With a husband like that, how had Rinko come to grow close to a man like me?

It was certainly puzzling, and he probably would not get a satisfactory answer from Rinko. Besides, even if he did know, what good would it do?

For Kuki, this rendezvous right now was what mattered most.

At this moment, they had to forget their separate families and throw themselves wholly into their world of two.

But as Rinko looked at the dimming sky, a clear shade of melancholy showed on her profile.

If they had come here with Rinko last night and stayed another night today, that would make two nights away from home in a row.

Since Rinko had come out, she must have been prepared for that, so was it the sight of this place that had suddenly stirred her heart and made her think of home?

Kuki wondered what had flashed through Rinko's mind in that instant.

He wanted to ask her outright, but what came out of his mouth was twisted by something else.

"Shouldn't we get up?"

The sun had long since sunk into the sea, but they were still lying on the bed.

"Pull the curtains shut."

Kuki did as he was told and drew the curtains. Rinko covered her chest with the sheet and searched for the underwear scattered around the bed.

"I can't even tell whether it's day or night anymore."

In the afternoon they had ridden around from Shichirigahama to Enoshima and back, and when they returned to the inn it was three o'clock. Then, until the sun began to slant down in the west, they had not gotten out of bed, and Kuki was surprised at himself.

He went to the refrigerator in another room and took out a beer.

As he stared absentmindedly at the darkening sea, Rinko came out after showering, now wearing a white dress with a white ribbon holding her hair back.

"Do you want to go out for dinner?"

Last night the two of them had eaten dinner in the seaside restaurant on the inn's second floor.

"But we already reserved a table, didn't we?"

Last night, the manager had told them that if they stayed another day, he could have freshly caught abalone prepared for them.

"Then let's go there again."

Rinko was a little tired and did not feel like going out of the inn.

After Kuki phoned to confirm the reservation, he and Rinko went to the second-floor restaurant.

On Saturday nights, most of the diners were families. They were shown to the window table the manager had prepared for them in advance. The two of them sat side by side on opposite sides of the square table, facing the glass.

"It's so dark you can't see anything."

By day, there had been a boundless sea view from here, but now that night had fallen, only the huge pine tree beside the window was faintly visible.

"At least it reflects us."

At night the window turned into a dim mirror, reflecting the two of them seated at the table, along with the guests and the chandelier, as if there were another restaurant beyond the glass.

Kuki looked at the restaurant reflected in the glass and searched with his eyes to see whether there was anyone he knew.

From the moment they entered, they had been led by a waiter to this seat, and he had not had time to notice who else was around.

Kuki had walked through the other tables with his head slightly lowered, and even his gait showed a little of the guilty air of a man with that kind of companion.

At this point, it would not matter much if they were seen, but the location in Kamakura was impossible not to worry about.

If he ran into someone he knew at a restaurant in Tokyo, he could always brush it off by saying he was there on business or meeting a friend. But in a restaurant in Kamakura, at night, dining alone with a woman, it would be impossible not to raise suspicion.

And on top of that, there were many old friends and relatives in the Shonan area, so there was no telling whom they might run into.

Kuki had never worried this much before. Strength and weakness struggled in his mind, and in the end he told himself: just say he had come here to take care of something and happened to have dinner with a woman he knew.

Thinking that, he withdrew his gaze and saw Rinko sitting there with elegant poise, gazing out at the dark night beyond the window.

On her profile there was a layer of calm confidence, the look of someone who would not be shaken by anything.

The waiter came to ask what they wanted to drink. Kuki ordered a light white wine. While they were eating the hors d'oeuvres, the server brought out a large plate of abalone caught offshore.

"Let's have it steamed and braised in oil."

Raw would have been delicious, so sashimi would have been fine, but he decided to leave it to the chef.

The glass window, set against the night, gave a full view of the restaurant interior, making even the faces of the nearby guests clearly visible.

"Do you know anyone here?" Kuki asked Rinko after sipping his wine. "It's pretty close to Yokohama..."

Rinko's parents ran a long-established furniture importing business in Yokohama, and she had gone to university there, so she knew many people in the area. But she did not even look up, and answered flatly, "I don't think I know anyone."

From the moment they arrived at the inn until now, Rinko had never shown the slightest hint of timidity.

"When the sun went down just now, you were a little quiet. Were you thinking of home?"

"You mean me?"

"You haven't been home for two days..."

Rinko lifted her wineglass and smiled faintly. "What I'm worried about is the cat."

"The cat?"

"It looked listless when I left. I don't know what's wrong with it."

Kuki knew Rinko kept a cat, but hearing her say that left him slightly disappointed.

For a moment, an image flashed through Kuki's mind of a man feeding the cat.

So Rinko's husband was left keeping company with the cat now.

Truthfully, he was interested in Rinko's husband and family, but when it came time to ask, he hesitated. He wanted to know desperately, and at the same time he was afraid of knowing too much.

"What does the cat eat?"

"I left it some canned cat food. It won't go hungry."

Then what did her husband eat? That was what worried him most, but he was afraid of overstepping, and at least for the moment this was not a subject to talk about.

The waiter came over and refilled their wine, and then the server brought the finished abalone. The steak was seared crisp on the outside and tender inside.

Kuki had always liked the clean, light flavor that was unique to French cuisine, and Rinko was the same.

"Don't mind if I do."

Rinko said she was hungry and started eating. Her way of handling knife and fork was refined and graceful.

"It's so good."

Rinko was completely absorbed in the delicious food, looking innocent and carefree, and Kuki watched her and savored the scene from the bed again in his mind.

That kind of scene was impossible to describe. If he had to say "so good," then Rinko herself was exactly that; the soft, elastic, mysterious feel of her was the very best part of the best flavor.

Rinko had no idea what the man was thinking. She kept eating happily, and Kuki followed suit, picking up a piece of steamed abalone and putting it in his mouth.

By the time they finished dinner, it was past nine. Between them they had drunk one bottle of red wine and one bottle of white.

Rinko could not hold her liquor well, and from her cheeks to her chest there was a slight flush, her eyes misty with drink. Kuki was drunk a little faster than usual too, but he still did not want to go to bed just yet.

After leaving the restaurant, they went to check out the bar, but it was too crowded, so they returned to their room.

"Let's go for a walk outside," Rinko suggested.

Beyond the terrace was a garden, with vegetation about ten meters away, and farther still was the vast black sea.

"The air is so fresh."

Letting the sea breeze stroke her hair, Rinko drew in a deep breath. Kuki did the same and suddenly felt even closer to the sea.

"Enoshima is so bright..."

Just as Rinko said, the seaside avenue, lit by streetlamps and car lights, wound away toward Cape Ogi, and Enoshima jutting out into the sea there looked like a battleship reflected in the coastal lights.

The lighthouse at the summit in the center shone in the dark, illuminating the hills where the sun had vanished and the heavy black sea below.

"This feels so good..."

Kuki moved close to Rinko, who stood facing the wind. With one hand holding his glass, he could not embrace her, so he leaned in and kissed her.

At that moment, only the lighthouse could see them kissing, enveloped in the heavy breath of the sea.

"I'm going to get a drink. Do you want water added?"

"Bring me a brandy."

In one corner of the courtyard, buffeted by the sea breeze, there was a white table and chairs set out as if waiting for them to sit down. The wind stirred them up again, and their appetite for drink came back with it.

"This is what you call a seaside private bar," Rinko said, and she was absolutely right. Apart from the stars glittering in the night sky and the lighthouse out on the water, there was nothing to disturb them.

As they savored their drinks in this secret bar, they suddenly felt as if this little patch of ground had been cut off from reality and drifted into a dream world.

"I don't even want to leave here."

Kuki couldn't tell whether she meant she wanted to keep drinking in the wind like this or didn't want to go back to Tokyo, so he asked, "You want to stay here?"

"If you're with me..."

The two of them silently looked up at the night sky. Rinko murmured, "That's impossible, isn't it?"

Kuki still didn't understand what she meant and didn't want to ask any further. At the same time, he couldn't help thinking of his own home.

Kuki had come to this inn without telling anyone else.

The day before, just before leaving work, he told the female staff member in the research office, "I have to go home early today," and he told his wife only, "I have some fieldwork to do. I'm going to Kyoto for two days."

His wife didn't ask anything else. Besides, if anything came up at home, a phone call to the company would reach him.

After their only daughter married and left home, the two of them were left alone. Not long after that, someone introduced his wife to a job advising a pottery factory on sales, and she took to it enthusiastically, often coming home later than Kuki did.

Their conversations were purely formal. They had never even gone out to dinner together or taken a trip.

Even so, Kuki had never thought about separating from his wife. Although that passionless state was tedious, he kept convincing himself that at their age, marriage was no more than that.

At least, until he met Rinko, Kuki had always dismissed the idea.

Another sea breeze blew in, bringing thoughts of Rinko's home back into his mind.

"You said just now that you were worried about that cat, so what about your husband?"

He couldn't ask questions like this in the crowded restaurant, but now, with the vast night around them, Kuki gathered his courage.

"Isn't it a problem leaving home unattended for two days?"

"This isn't the first time I've gone out."

Rinko answered while looking at the starry sky, as if she were speaking to the stars.

"I used to follow my calligraphy teacher to the provinces a lot, or go to exhibitions and things like that."

"So that's the reason this time too?"

"No. I told him I was going to a friend's place tonight."

"For two days?"

"I have a close friend in Zushi, and anyway, it's the weekend."

Could she really fool a husband with an excuse like that? And what if something urgent came up and they called from home?

"Does your friend know where you are?"

"I gave a rough explanation. It's fine."

Kuki didn't understand what Rinko meant by fine, but then she said in a tone that brooked no argument, "Mine wouldn't come looking for me. He only knows work."

Rinko's husband was a professor in the medical school, always buried in his laboratory, but he was also far too unguarded.

"Has he ever suspected anything?"

"Are you worried about me?"

"I mean, if your husband found out, it'd be troublesome..."

"You're afraid he'll find out?"

The woman seemed to be pressing the man on whether he was afraid of her husband finding out. In fact, what she was really saying was that even if her husband did find out, it wouldn't matter.

"Does your husband know about us?"

"Hard to say..."

"Has he never said anything to you?"

"No..."

Kuki felt a little relieved. Then Rinko said lightly, "Maybe he already knows."

"But he hasn't questioned you."

"Maybe he just doesn't want to know..."

Suddenly, a strong wind swept in from the sea and dragged that last word far away. Kuki's thoughts went with it.

Not wanting to know probably meant being afraid to know. A husband who sensed that his wife was cheating, yet still refused to face the reality, might decide that not knowing was better than knowing.

In Kuki's mind, there rose the image of a tall doctor in a white coat, impeccable in both status and appearance, the kind of man anyone would envy, yet one who silently endured the suspicion that his wife was being unfaithful.

If that was true, was he not questioning her because he loved her, or was he deliberately pretending not to know, coldly watching his wife's infidelity?

Kuki's drunkenness vanished all at once, and this strange couple set him thinking.

"You think we're odd, don't you..."

Kuki was just about to agree, but then he thought again: if a couple who no longer loved each other was strange, then weren't such couples everywhere?

"There isn't a perfect marriage in this world."

"Is that really so?"

"Everyone else has some degree of disharmony too. They just act as if nothing is wrong."

"What if they can't act?"

The light spilling from the room fell across Rinko's profile as she looked up at the night sky. Kuki stared at the sheen on half her face and realized he was facing a new question.

What Rinko was really asking was what to do if she and her husband could no longer pretend.

Was she saying they had already reached the point where the breach could no longer be repaired, or that they would eventually face such a situation?

In any case, she was waiting for Kuki's answer.

"Then does he still..."

For some reason, calling Rinko's husband "your husband" now felt awkward. Kuki wanted to refer to him simply as a third person, without bringing that relationship into it.

"Does he still sleep with you?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Kuki realized this was what he most wanted to know.

Rinko was silent for a moment, then said to the night sky, "No..."

"Nothing at all?"

"I keep turning him down."

"And he can stand it?"

"I don't know whether he can or not. In any case, things like this can't be forced."

Rinko's side profile carried the unyielding fastidiousness and stubbornness that belonged to women alone, as if she were talking about something that had nothing to do with her.

Love would eventually reach its peak.

From the first meeting, to mutual affection, and then on to the point where they could no longer restrain themselves and joined physically, the whole process was so smooth that the lovers themselves often didn't notice it. A blaze of passion made them forget every disappointment this world could offer.

But in the very instant that desire rose step by step to its summit, they suddenly found a ravine ahead and stopped short.

Just when the two of them were immersed in pleasure and thought this was the Eden of sex, they realized that ahead lay a wilderness overgrown with weeds, something they would have to face with clear heads.

Kuki and Rinko had passed through the period of smooth sailing and reached a peak. Whether they could cross this barrier depended on their love.

They usually met a few times a month. Sometimes they arranged a date and went away traveling for several days.

If they were content with that much, there would be no need to cross the ravine. But they were not satisfied with the present. Both of them wanted to see each other more often and feel each other's presence more keenly.

To do that, they had to prepare to take risks, gather their courage, and step forward once more to cross the abyss.

Needless to say, courage meant the resolve to act recklessly, without regard for their own families.

Only with that kind of resolve could the two of them freely and passionately enjoy their own time to the fullest.

Of course, the price would be enormous.

Rinko and Kuki would arouse suspicion from their respective spouses, spark arguments, and very likely end up destroying both households.

So the biggest problem right now was how to satisfy the two of them while still taking the families into account.

If Rinko's family really was as she described, then it was already on the brink of collapse.

If a wife does not accept her husband and there is no sexual connection, then what meaning is left in marriage, in being husband and wife?

Of course, Kuki's marriage was the same in that respect. From that point of view, one could say his family was already broken as well.

But Rinko was in a more difficult position. As a wife, she had to refuse her husband's demands, whereas Kuki only had to hold back and nothing would happen. So men and women were different after all.

Facing the sea breeze, Kuki gradually became serious.

At this point, he couldn't keep worrying about everything. He needed to use this opportunity to ask Rinko plainly where she stood and talk about what they should do next.

"Does he know why you turn him down?"

"I suppose so."

Kuki's mind once again called up the image of Rinko's scholarly husband. Though he had never met the man once, he still felt sure he must be the type to wear glasses and never smile.

For some reason, Kuki couldn't bring himself to hate this rival.

He had fallen in love with the married Rinko, and the other man had become the cuckold whose wife had been stolen away.

Maybe it was pity for the man's miserable position, or maybe the quiet patience with which he endured being rejected by his wife had worn away Kuki's urge to fight.

No matter how you looked at it, the advantage clearly belonged to Kuki now.

And yet the greater the advantage, the greater the responsibility.

"Seeing you like this makes me feel awful."

Kuki admired Rinko deeply.

"It's easier for you. Men don't have much to worry about."

"Not necessarily. Men are the same sometimes."

Another gust of wind blew in from the sea, and Rinko whispered, "I think I can't do it anymore."

"Can't do what?"

Rinko tipped her face toward the sky and nodded slowly.

"I'm ready."

"What nonsense are you talking..."

"Women aren't all that flexible either sometimes."

Rinko closed her eyes and let the night wind wash over her. Seeing that martyr-like face, the man's heart overflowed with tenderness for her, and he couldn't help pulling her into his arms.

While kissing her and stroking the hair dampened by the sea breeze, Kuki held her as he walked back to the room. In the blink of an eye, the two of them were lying in bed, and it was no longer clear who had made the first move.

Once the conversation turned to their families and went deeper, they both lost their self-control little by little. With no way to solve the problem, the only place they could escape to was the bed.

Rinko, too, now longed to be held tightly.

Their emotions surged, and they clung to each other desperately. Between their bodies there was no room for Rinko's husband, nor for the lighthouse beam or the night wind, nor even for the air in the room.

Their kissing and embracing were so close it was as if they were trying to fuse into each other's bodies...

At that moment, Kuki thought of the phrase "body language."

Just then, the two of them had been speaking to each other with their bodies.

When faced with problems too difficult to express in words, problems that only grew more tangled the more they talked about them, the only thing left was to communicate through the body.

Once they had embraced each other passionately and found release, any problem would resolve itself.

Now the two of them had already forgotten those unpleasant matters and were lying there calm and languid.

Even if not a single real-world problem had been solved, once body had spoken to body, they could understand and forgive each other.

The man sensed the woman's satisfaction, relaxed a little, and grew more confident.

"Feel good?"

The question was entirely unnecessary. Rinko's reaction just now had made everything perfectly clear, but he still wanted to ask.

As if deliberately trying to disappoint him, Rinko stayed silent and lightly pressed her head against the man's chest.

The answer was of course yes, but she was too embarrassed to say it aloud. Maybe it was some kind of rebellious streak.

The more the woman avoided it, the more the man wanted to hear those words.

"Do you like me?"

That question was unnecessary too. Coming here behind her husband's back, how could she not like him? The man was asking even though he knew the answer.

"Do you like me or not?"

Kuki pressed her again. This time Rinko answered at once, "No."

Kuki looked closely at her face. Rinko's tone was brisk and untroubled.

"I feel kind of awful."

"What is it..."

"Being held by you."

For a moment Kuki didn't react. Then Rinko said, "I hate losing control of myself like this, getting lost in desire."

Losing reason meant complete satisfaction, didn't it? Kuki asked carefully, "It feels better than before?"

"I seem to have fallen into your trap."

"No, I was the one who fell into yours."

"Anyway, you're the bad guy who made me like this."

"But it's your fault."

"Mine?"

"Because you're too delicious."

"But this is my first time."

"Your first time with what?"

"Being like this..."

Kuki glanced at the watch by the pillow. It had just gone past eleven.

Both Rinko and he were already fairly tired, but neither wanted to fall asleep yet. So they stayed there cheek to cheek, enjoying the rare world of just the two of them, and Kuki, still buoyed by the moment, asked again, "So you do like me, after all?"

"Didn't I say I hate it?"

Her tone still held not the slightest hint of compromise.

"Then why are you..."

"Why would I fall for it so easily?"

Kuki was a little unnerved by Rinko's self-punishing tone, and said cautiously, "I never expected to get such a wonderful woman."

"You're not bad yourself."

"Don't flatter me. I'm the type with the least self-confidence."

"That's exactly what I like about you."

When Kuki first met Rinko, it was just after the company had pushed him out of the main track and reassigned him to a useless post.

"Men your age are usually so arrogant. They're always handing out cards, introducing themselves as directors or department heads and bragging endlessly about how much power and influence they have at the company. You never said a word about any of that."

"I wanted to say something. There just wasn't much to say."

"Actually, women don't pay much attention to those things. They like men who are gentle and have a bit of style..."

"Style?"

"Yes. You give off this tired, melancholy feeling."

Kuki's mental state at the time was indeed at rock bottom.

"I remember telling you that once I had some free time, I wanted to study the influential women of the Showa era. It's fascinating, and..."

"You're pretty good."

Rinko said it, staring straight ahead with such bold calm that it landed like a shock.

In Kuki's previous dealings with women, he had generally felt he was satisfying them, but no one had ever praised him as "pretty good."

What men say about themselves doesn't count. It depends on how a woman feels, and on the feelings of a woman who has known more than one man.

Being told by a woman that he was "pretty good" made Kuki happy, and hearing it from the most stubborn of women, Rinko, only strengthened his confidence, though he still couldn't take it blindly.

"Are you serious, or are you joking?"

"Of course I'm serious. Why would I make something like that up?"

Pleased by the praise, Kuki kept teasing her. "So I'm at least passing, then."

"Mm. Passing."

Rinko answered at once.

"So you've got a lot of experience, then."

"No, I don't..."

"Don't be afraid. You don't have to hide it. That'll make me feel better too."

After two days together, Rinko had fully loosened up.

"You said this feeling was new. What about before?"

"What are you talking about?"

Rinko asked on purpose.

"Your sex life with him."

"A little bit of feeling. Not this strong."

"So you've never had anything like..."

"Didn't I say you're the bad guy who made me realize this feeling?"

"That's because you already had the capacity for it."

"That's a capacity too?"

Watching Rinko's earnest expression, Kuki found her even more innocent and lovely, and reached around from behind to place his hand on her chest.

For a man, nothing is more joyous or more prideful than watching the woman he loves gradually discover sexual pleasure.

A body that had once been undeveloped, like a hard bud, slowly loosened and softened, until it finally opened into a great bloom, blossoming and releasing its fragrance.

When a man can serve as the catalyst in a woman's flowering and maturity, it proves that his presence has sunk deep into her heart, and he feels a kind of fulfillment at the level of life itself.

Now Rinko was saying it bluntly: this was all your doing. It was you, Kuki, who awakened the pleasure that had been sleeping inside me.

Her words made it clear that until now she had never understood what real pleasure was. In other words, she had never felt anything like this with her husband.

"Feels especially good, doesn't it..."

Kuki leaned close to Rinko's ear and whispered.

"That way you'll never forget me."

By now Kuki had driven a wedge into Rinko's body, a thick, solid wedge that went straight from the top of her head down to her waist, and no matter how she struggled she couldn't pull free.

"You can't get away."

"Don't talk big. If I really can't get away, what are you going to do?"

Kuki didn't react at first, and Rinko pressed him again without relenting.

"Aren't you afraid?"

That reminded Kuki of the words Rinko had said on the bed before sunset, when she had murmured, "How frightening." Back then she had been worried about their illicit relationship; now she was anxious about reality itself.

"We're going to hell."

"To hell?"

"I don't know about you. As for me, there's no question."

As she said it, Rinko clung to him tightly. "Save me. Don't let go, whatever you do..."

Rinko's body and mind were both in violent turmoil.

"It's all right. Don't be afraid."

Kuki comforted Rinko and once again felt the difference between male and female sexuality.

Compared with women, men's sexual pleasure is fundamentally weaker. So rather than being absorbed in his own pleasure, a man is more satisfied by watching the other person move gradually toward the peak of pleasure.

Especially at Kuki's age, he was no longer as impatient as a young man. Instead, he had turned from passive to active, discovering a man's value in the pleasure and satisfaction he could give someone else.

In Rinko's case, she had started as a very restrained woman, as rigid as formal brush script. Once she was freed from all kinds of restraints, she learned what pleasure was and sank into it, then transformed into a mature woman who reveled in it fully, and in the end fell so deeply into lust that she could not pull herself out.

This was the process of a woman's body gradually breaking down, and at the same time it meant the awakening of the woman's latent true sensuality. For a man, there was nothing more thrilling, nothing more moving, than being able to witness that change with his own eyes.

That transformation showed that through bodily contact, one could perceive both a woman's true nature and that of the female body, as well as the process by which it changed.

But the pleasure gained as an observer and bystander was limited.

Since sex is premised on the union of bodies, it is impossible for one side to always be active and the other passive.

Though the man launched the first attack, the woman quickly caught fire. As the heat between them built, he was stirred by her in turn and pressed harder after her; by the time they realized it, both man and woman had already sunk deep into the abyss of hellish sex.

However different the path to peak pleasure might be, if both of them felt they could not be separated from each other, then it should not be only one of them who fell into hell.

If they kept surrendering to it, the two of them were highly likely to end up in a place from which there would be no return. Rinko called it hell and was afraid of falling deeper.

To be honest, Kuki did not think the pleasure he felt now was a sin.

He did think that a married man loving a married woman was indeed immoral and against ethics, but then again, what was wrong with two people in love wanting each other?

No matter how common sense and morality changed with the times, the union of people who loved each other was a great principle that never changed across the ages.

What was there to feel guilty about in following that precious law, Kuki told himself in his heart.

No matter how brave Kuki was, if Rinko did not approve, their love could not last. No matter how calm a man might be, if the woman was timid, it would be hard for their love to rise to a higher level.

"We won't fall into hell. We haven't done anything bad."

"No, we have."

Rinko had graduated from a church-run university, and on top of that she was a married woman herself, so her sense of guilt was especially strong.

"But we love each other very much."

"However you put it, it's improper."

At this point, reason no longer had any use. All the man could do was silently submit to the stubborn woman.

"Then let's go to hell together."

If they kept wallowing in pleasure like this, they would end up in hell sooner or later, but abstinence could not guarantee that they would certainly go to heaven.

It would be better to simply enjoy all of it to the fullest and fall straight into hell.

Kuki was no longer hesitating.