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eyes of hers； Naoko sitting on the sofa； legs drawn up beneath her blue
nightdress； chin resting on her knees。
The memories would slam against me like the waves of an ining
tide； sweeping my body along to some strange new place… a place
where I lived with the dead。 There Naoko lived； and I could speak
with her and hold her in my arms。 Death in that place was not a
decisive element that brought life to an end。 There； death was but one
of many elements prising life。 There Naoko lived with death
inside her。 And to me she said； 〃Don't worry； it's only death。 Don't let
it bother you。〃
I felt no sadness in that strange place。 Death was death； and Naoko
was Naoko。 〃What's the problem？〃 she asked me with a bashful smile；
〃I'm here； aren't I？〃 Her familiar little gestures soothed my heart like a
healing balm。 〃If this is death；〃 I thought to myself； 〃then death is not
so bad。〃 〃It's true；〃 said Naoko； 〃death is nothing much。 It's just death。
Things are so easy for me here。〃 Naoko spoketo me in the spaces
between the crashing of the dark waves。
Eventually； though； the tide would pull back； and I would be left on
the beach alone。 Powerless； I could go nowhere； sadness itself would
envelop me in deep darkness until the tears came。 I felt less that I was
crying than that the tears were simply oozing out of me like
perspiration。
I had learned one thing from Kizuki's death； and I believed that I had
made it a part of myself in the form of a philosophy： 〃Death exists； not
as the opposite but as a part of life。〃
By living our lives； we nurture death。 True as this might be； it was
only one of the truths we had to learn。 What I learned from Naoko's
death was this： no truth can cure the sadness we feel from losing a
loved one。 No truth； no sincerity； no strength； no kindness； can cure
that sorrow。 All we can do is see that sadness through to the end and
learn something from it； but what we learn will be no help in facing
the next sadness that es to us without warning。 Hearing the waves
at night； listening to the sound of the wind； day after day I focused on
these thoughts of mine。 Knapsack on my back； sand in my hair； I
moved farther and farther west； surviving on a diet of whisky； bread
and water。
One windy evening； as I lay wrapped in my sleeping bag； weeping； by
the side of an abandoned hulk； a young fisherman passed by and
offered me a cigarette。 I accepted it and had my first smoke in over a
year。 He asked why I was crying； and almost by reflex I told him that
my mother had died。 I couldn't take the sadness； I said； and so I was
on the road。 He expressed his deep sympathy and brought a big bottle
of sake and two glasses from his house。
The wind tore along the sand beach as we sat there drinking。 He told
me that he had lost his mother when he was 16。 Never healthy； she
had worn herself out working from morning to night。 I half…listened to
him； sipping my sake and grunting in response every now and then。 I
felt as if I were hearing a story from some far…off world。 What the hell
was he talking about？ I wondered； and all of a sudden I was filled with
intense rage： I wanted to strangle him。 Who gives a shit about your
mother？ I've lost Naoko！ Her beautiful flesh has vanished from this
world！ Why the hell are you telling me about your fucking mother？！
But my rage disappeared as quickly as it had flared up。 I closed my
eyes and went on half…listening to the fisherman's endless talk。
Eventually he asked me if I had eaten。 No； I said； but in my rucksack I
had bread and cheese； a tomato and a piece of chocolate。 What had I
eaten for lunch？ he asked。
Bread and cheese； tomato and chocolate； I answered。 〃Wait here；〃 he
said and ran off。 I tried to stop him； but he disappeared into the
darkness without looking back。
All I could do was go on drinking my sake。 The shore was littered
with paper flecks from fireworks that had been exploded on the sand；
and waves crashed against the beach with a mad roar。 A scrawny dog
came up wagging its tail and sniffing around my little campfire for
something to eat but eventually gave up and wandered away。
The young fisherman came back half an hour later with two boxes of
sushi and a new bottle of sake。 I should eat the top box straight away
because that had fish in it； he said； but the bottom box had only nori
rolls and deep…fried tofu skins so they would last all tomorrow。 He
filled both our glasses with sake from the new bottle。 I thanked him
and polished off the whole top box myself； though it had more than
enough for two。 After we had drunk as much sake as we could
manage； he offered to put me up for the night； but when I said I would
rather sleep alone on the beach； he left it at that。 As he stood to go； he
took a folded ？5；000 note from his pocket and shoved it into the
pocket of my shirt。 〃Here；〃 he said； 〃get yourself some healthy food。
You look awful。〃 I said he had done more than enough for me and that
I couldn't accept money on top of everything else； but he refused to
take it back。 〃It's not money；〃 he said； 〃it's my feelings。 Don't think
about it too much； just take it。〃 All I could do was thank him and
accept it。
When he had gone； I suddenly thought about my old girlfriend； the
one I had first slept with in my last year of school。 Chills ran through
me as I realized how badly I had treated her。 I had hardly ever thought
about her thoughts or feelings or the pain I had caused her。 She was
such a sweet and gentle thing； but at the time I had taken her
sweetness for granted and later hardly gave her a second thought。
What was she doing now？ I wondered。 And had she forgiven me？
A wave of nausea came over me； and I vomited by the old ship。 My
head hurt from too much sake； and I felt bad about having lied to the
fisherman and taken his money。 It was time for me to go back to
Tokyo； I decided； I couldn't keep this up for ever。 I stuffed my
sleeping bag into my rucksack； slipped my arms through the straps
and walked to the local railway station。 I told the man at the ticket…
office window that I wanted to get to Tokyo as soon as possible。 He
checked his timetable and said I could make it as far as Osaka by
morning if I transferred from one night train to another； then I could
take the bullet train from there。 I thanked him and used the x〃5；000
note the fisherman gave me to buy a ticket to Tokyo。 Waiting for the
train； I bought a newspaper and checked the date： 2 October； 1970。 So
I had been travelling for a full month。 I knew I had to go back to the
real world。
The month of travelling neither lifted my spirits nor softened the blow
of Naoko's death。 I arrived back in Tokyo in pretty much the same
state in which I had left。 I couldn't even bring myself to phone Midori。
What could I say to her？ How could I begin？ 〃It's all over now； you
and I can be happy together〃？ No； that was out of the question。
However I might phrase it； though； the facts were the same： Naoko
was dead； and Midori was still here。 Naoko was a mound of white ash；
and Midori was a living； breathing human being。
I was overe with a sense o