Ruined Map - Abe Kobo [70]
Unbeknown to me the pointed chin had appeared in the corridor through which the priest had disappeared, and now he was intently beckoning to me with his hand. Below the balustrade, to the left of the dais, my companion was deep in conversation with the noodle man. No, it was exclusively the noodle man who was doing the talking, and I did not know whether she was giving him her full attention as she fussed with the unaccustomed sleeves of her mourning kimono, letting them hang down in front, rolling them up from the bottom, and flipping them behind her. The sky was again an unbroken mass of milky cloud, but the wind had almost completely died down.
I was led into a narrow cubicle beside the altar, apparently a waiting room for those taking part in the religious ceremonies. The old-fashioned gas stove sent forth a blue flame, and at once the muscles of my face began to relax. Directly beside the entrance sat a young man, his hands on his knees, waiting with bowed head. The pointed chin looked at me searchingly.
“May I …?”
I nodded and he left the room, swinging his shoulders. Of course, I had not foreseen such an abrupt introduction, and I had no idea at all what I should find out from this young man on duty. Yet whether the pointed chin was here or not didn’t matter one way or the other. I faced the young man from across a small black and gold tea table whose lacquer had begun to peel. Judging from his slender, youthful neck—perhaps he was the leader of the group of youths standing out in front—it would seem unsuitable to call him the man in charge. As I took my seat, he adjusted his position and looked up. The face was exactly as I had imagined it would be from the slender neck. His fine-textured young skin looked as if it had been polished with wax, and the line of the jaw was epicene, neither masculine nor feminine. Aside from the dark shadow of a beard, his features, especially his lips, were completely feminine. Even the nose was delicate. Only the eyes were strangely veiled and seemed like dangerous, flammable oil. Still, the muscles were frail. He did not seem to have at all the authority to control, to overawe young men. He was doubtless the lion in sheep’s clothing. If that was true, his position had collapsed with the death of my client’s brother, and the long-cherished hatred of the other youths would now focus on him, ideal circumstances to get something out of him perhaps. However, aside from muscles, in handling a wild and lunatic switch blade he probably excelled the others in violence. Sports and contests of strength and killing demanded another kind of ability. Even the lion is no match for a famished dog.
Be that as it may, what in god’s name could her purpose be? What was the point of having me meet this boy? And the suddenness of it all; there had been opportunity enough to let me know in advance. The badge with the lightning design was exactly the same as the one the brother had worn. Perhaps it was the sign of the organization they called the Yamato Association. If this youth was the man in charge, the ones standing