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Authors: Shiro Hamao

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BOOK: The Devil's Disciple
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Michiko!
You
were the despicable one! When I think now that you played this trick not just on me but on so many other men as well it makes the blood course backwards through my veins!

From that day on I resolved to defend her from the devil who tortured her. I would fight for her no matter what. I was her slave. What a fool I was!

Now Seizō was not all that happy about the freedom he had given Michiko. Apparently he made Michiko suffer for the time she spent with other men like me. Even Seizō, it seemed, could be jealous. But his cool self-regard prevented him from ever addressing this with Michiko directly. Once I had understood this I began to copy Michiko's behaviour towards him. I would purposely say things in his presence to make him uncomfortable. I found pleasure in thus making him miserable. In this way beginning in the spring of last year I met Seizō quite often and relished his unhappiness on each occasion.

On that day, the 18th of August, that accursed day, Seizō's unhappiness was very much in evidence!

I don't know for sure how Michiko was treating Tomoda. But considering that Seizō was being much friendlier to Tomoda than to myself, I assume that he, Tomoda, had not become as close to her as I had.

And yet I cannot be sure of this since Seizō was the kind of man whose attitude often expressed the reverse of his true feelings.

I was not actually invited on that day but, having nothing else to do, had gone there of my own accord. Tomoda happened to be there as well so we began a game of mahjong in the evening.

During this game I was awash with sentimental emotions – on the one hand I was happy to be able to spend so much time with my lover, and on the other I felt sorry for myself for having fallen in love with a married woman and being forced to extract as much pleasure as I could from this silly game.

Once the storm picked up outside I knew I was stuck there for the night and so devoted myself all the more single-mind-edly to the mahjong while indulging myself fully in this potent lover's mixture of joy and sadness.

After eight rounds it was still not clear who was winning. It was in the ‘west wind' hand that Michiko suddenly did very well.

Or rather someone arranged it so that she did very well. Seizō was the dealer for that hand. I was next to Seizō and just across from Michiko.

It was the eighth and last round and no one had yet made any big wins or losses. The ‘prevailing wind' was west when Michiko put together an excellent hand.

Or perhaps it would be better to say that circumstances conspired in such a way that she got a good hand. Seizō was the dealer at the time. I was to Seizō's left and opposite Michiko. After we had gone around four times, Michiko discarded a four and a five character. Then she put down a one and a three dots, followed by one of her south wind tiles. By this time we had discarded quite a few honor tiles and although Michiko was playing a concealed hand she had not given away any of her bamboos, so it was obvious to everyone that she was trying for a full bamboo flush. No one among the other three of us had a ready hand. Seizō, being the dealer, looked particularly vexed and seemed to be in a hurry to finish the round. But he wasn't having much luck, especially with Michiko hanging on to all of her bamboos, making it hard for him to get rid of his. Then it was time for Michiko to pick a tile from the wall. She had lined up all fourteen of her tiles on their sides, with no exposed melds. After thinking for a moment, she discarded a seven bamboo.

‘She's got extra,' Seizō mumbled to himself, half out of what seemed genuine anxiety and half to warn the other two of us.

After Tomoda it was my turn. Luckily or not, I drew a three bamboo, the only tile that completed the one-two-three series I was waiting for. All I needed to do then was to discard a superfluous eight bamboo that would leave me with a perfect no-point hand that could go out on either the one, four or seven dots.

In most cases when someone has thrown out a seven bamboo and looks like they are waiting for only one more tile it is risky to discard the eight bamboo. This was all the more true in this case since Michiko was going for a full bamboo flush with a concealed hand using only tiles that she had drawn herself. This was clearly a situation where the general rule that it is better to discard higher numbers did not apply. The eight bamboo that I held in my hand was unquestionably a dangerous tile to discard.

And yet it was my beloved Michiko who sat across from me and the dealer was my nemesis Seizō. Figuring I had three chances to complete my dots
chow,
I went ahead and discarded the eight bamboo and Michiko got her full flush. I will never forget the sour look on Seizō's face at that moment. Michiko was sure to win now but he refused to give up. The result was that we ended up playing four extra rounds.

In the last and final round of this match something else happened to make Seizō unhappy.

It was at the very end of the last, north wind round. Seizō was the dealer and I was next to him again but this time Tomoda was sitting opposite me. I had been pretty unlucky up until that point but suddenly things started to go my way. I was dealt a fantastic set of tiles.

After we had gone around twice, Seizō discarded the north wind tile. I ponged it of course, since north was both the prevailing wind for the round and my seat wind. Then I ponged the green dragon Tomoda played and when he played the nine character I ponged that as well. This made all of the terminals and honours possible limit wins for me as well as the whole character suit.

At this point I was waiting for a four or a seven character, but since no one wanted to discard a character tile and risk paying me the bet by themselves I had no choice but to choose a winning tile from the wall.

It was at this moment that Michiko, who was to my left, mistakenly knocked over two of her tiles. They were both east winds and both limit-winning tiles for me.

‘Oh shoot! You saw them didn't you!' she said, as she picked them back up again.

Looking in my direction, Seizō said, ‘So that's where they were! I guess you weren't waiting for an east wind after all.'

As he said this, he showed me an east wind from his own hand. He was in the east position but he was having trouble getting rid of it. Michiko did not seem to sense the danger and, saying, ‘I guess I'll get rid of them since you saw them,' she inexplicably discarded one of her two east winds. It was my turn to pick from the wall next. And what do you know? - I drew the last east wind. I immediately changed strategy to wait for the east wind and discarded a seven character. Seizō, not noticing that my hand had changed, or perhaps simply thinking it was very unlikely that I had drawn the last east wind, thought he was completely safe and discarded his last east wind. I won handily. And Seizō had to pay me the entire score by himself since he had discarded the winning tile.

He was clearly angry about it, and said to me, ‘Why didn't you play that when Michiko discarded her east winds? Didn't you want to win off her?'

I told him that I had only just drawn the east wind and that's why I had only played it when he discarded his, but he clearly didn't believe me.

‘Never seen anything like it,' he burst out, and the mahjong game was over. I don't know what Michiko thought of my excuse, but she looked over at me and smiled. She seemed convinced that I had purposely refrained from winning using her tiles.

In this way, that stormy evening wore on with all of us in a strange mood.

I ended up sleeping in a futon they put out for me in the downstairs room.

I spent a lot of time with Seizō but we had never had such unpleasant words as we did that night. It was somehow intensely pleasurable for me but at the same time I had a feeling of unspeakable foreboding as well.

Where would I end up? What was I doing loving another man's wife? I can hear the voices whispering now.

VII

Seizō and Michiko were sleeping in the room just above me. I had never before slept under the same roof as Michiko. This was the first time.

The woman I loved more than my life was another man's wife. The couple were asleep in the same room just above mine. This thought alone was enough to keep me from being able to sleep.

At first I thought the fatigue from having bathed in the ocean that day might be enough to put me to sleep. But then my head filled with thoughts and sleep eluded me. The storm outside had subsided but the rain still fell steadily.

With a youthful sentimentalism I thought about how Michiko and I loved each other but there was nothing we could do about it. I thought of Werther again and gave myself up to a succession of pleasantly sad thoughts. But then my thoughts came back to reality. I shuddered with disgust at the thought of Michiko's voluptuous body sleeping in that room above me with a man who had neither love nor understanding for her. Once again, I cursed Seizō inwardly. I cursed his existence. I listened intently for any sounds as my mind filled with shameful thoughts. The rain did not let up.

A maid could be heard snoring in the other room. As I lay there I alternated between writhing on the floor with all my might just as I had swum in the ocean that day – barely able to resist the impulse to cry out – and shedding tears of romantic, dream-like downheartedness.

For more than an hour I shuttled in this way between heaven and earth as this jumble of feelings mixed with the day's fatigue.

And then, suddenly, I heard the sound of a voice. It was a very quiet sound but my ears were on alert and they told me clearly that it was a human voice.

I sat up halfway and listened with my entire body. There it was again. Then I distinguished the sound of someone quietly moaning. It was coming from the first floor!

I felt my body begin to tremble.

The situation reminded me of a time when as a boy I visited an uncle in the village where I had grown up and overheard my uncle and aunt in their bedroom. Shaking with my own wretchedness I covered my head in the blanket.

After a few moments I ventured out again and heard the sound of someone talking. I got out of bed completely and focused on the room upstairs but this time I was assailed by a strange feeling.

This was clearly different from what I had overheard as a child. As I listened more, I realised just how different it was.

Seizō was scolding her about something. His voice was quiet but seemed angry.

I held my breath and listened. I heard my own name, ‘Ōtera'. Then I heard a groaning voice that seemed to belong to Michiko.

There was no longer any doubting it. Seizō suspected something between Michiko and me. Michiko was being made to suffer because of me. I stood up quietly but quickly. My feelings at that time were those of a medieval knight. I went up to the first floor as if I were going to save a damsel in distress.

It is of course a shameful thing to stand outside the doorway of a married couple's bedroom and listen to what is going on inside. But my feelings at that time were of such a nature as to sanctify everything I did. I was going to save an innocent suffering woman. This is what I told myself as I tried to ascertain what was going on in that room.

It was a warm summer night but the
shōji
facing the passageway was closed. I noticed, however, that one could still see inside through a gap at the edge of the
shōji.
I quickly approached it and peered through the gap at the interior of the room.

The floor lamp was clearly visible. By its light, and through the white mosquito netting, I could also clearly see that Seizō was standing there, slightly hunched forward, and crouching down. As I watched he said, ‘You love Ōtera, don't you!' in a low, mumbling voice.

I opened the
shōji
a little more so that I could see in front of where Seizō was crouching. I was on the point of opening my mouth to scream.

My beloved Michiko lay there on the floor, her upper body completely naked and her hands tied behind her back. Seizō was abusing her every time he said ‘Ōtera' and she was emitting a quiet groan.

I couldn't stand it anymore. Michiko was suffering because of me. I thought of kicking in the
shōji
and barging into the room. But I hesitated for a moment in order to hear what she was saying back to him.

It was all I could do to restrain myself when, at that instant, I noticed something shiny in Seizō's hand.

‘What about it? Why won't you tell me?'

As he said this he was holding his hand close to her cheek and I got a clear glimpse of a blade. At the same time I heard a voice that seemed to be Michiko's, saying, ‘Ah! That hurts!' At the sound of her quiet yet still forceful voice I kicked aside the
shōji
and rushed into the room. Its occupants were obviously surprised.

When I entered the room, yelling, ‘What are you doing?', Seizō stood up and screamed. ‘What's this? Who is that?'

I seem to have collided with the mosquito net as I came in and ripped out its hooks but Seizō and I kicked it aside, after which we stood glaring at each other while Michiko lay all trussed up on the floor. The silence was deafening. Seizō had recovered from his initial shock and stood there staring at me with the knife blade still in his right hand.

It was at this moment that my descent to hell began. As that bizarre silence was broken the lives of the three people in that room were cursed forever.

It was Michiko who broke the silence.

‘Ichirō-san, what a silly boy you are! Such a silly boy! Tee hee!'

When this freakish sentence came out of Michiko's mouth as she lay there with both hands tied, my world was turned upside down. Oh! Those words! That laugh!

Something flashed on in my mind and I stood there like a stone having been struck by lightning.

I could feel my brains sloshing inside my head and I began to kick the floor in frustration.

As I sit here in prison now I am struggling to remember the scene in as much detail as possible.

BOOK: The Devil's Disciple
12.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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