The Decay of the Angel (Vintage International) by Yukio Mishima

Author:Yukio Mishima
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780307834331
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2013-04-09T03:00:00+00:00

19

“FURUSAWA TOOK ME to the Kōrakuen,” said Tōru at breakfast the next morning. “We had a ride in the teacups, and then we had Chinese noodles for dinner.”

“That’s nice,” said Honda, showing his false teeth. It should have been the bland, insubstantial old smile that went with false teeth; but Honda seemed to be genuinely pleased. Tōru was wounded.

Since he had come to Honda’s, Tōru had known every morning the luxurious pleasure of scooping up the meat of an imported grapefruit, cut into sections by a thin curved knife. The rude abundance of juice, in the faintly bitter, glossy white meat of fruit ripe to bursting, sank into his lazy morning gums with its warmth.

“Furusawa has bad breath. I can hardly stand it when we’re studying together.” Tōru smiled an equivocal smile.

“I wonder why. Do you suppose he has stomach trouble? But you’re too fussy. You can put up with that much. You’re not likely to find a more able tutor.”

“I suppose not.” Retreating a step, Tōru finished his grapefruit. A carefully scrutinized piece of toast gave off in the November morning light a glow as of well-tanned leather. Tōru watched the butter melt into it, and then took a bite, careful to follow the instructions he had had from Honda.

“Yes, Furusawa is a good man,” he said after the first bite. “But have you looked into his ideas?”

It pleased him to see confusion of the most vulgar sort come out on Honda’s face.

“Has he said something to you?”

“Nothing specific. But I can’t get over feeling that he either has been or still is involved in some political movement.”

Honda was startled. He trusted Furusawa, and was sure that Tōru liked him. From Honda’s point of view, Tōru’s warning was based on confidence and understanding; but from Furusawa’s it was clearly the report of a secret informant. It amused Tōru to observe how Honda would dispose of this delicate ethical problem.

Honda saw that he was not to pass the light judgment he usually passed upon good and evil. Judged against a broader humanity of which Honda was fond of thinking, Tōru’s behavior was ugly; but judged against the image Honda had for Tōru himself, it passed muster. Honda was at the point of confessing that what he looked for in Tōru was ugliness.

To put Honda at his ease and offer occasion for mild reproof, Tōru tore off a childish mouthful of toast, spreading crumbs liberally on his knee. Honda took no notice.

It would not do to reprove Tōru for the element of meanness in this first mark of trust he had vouchsafed. On the other hand Honda’s old sense of ethics demanded that he inform Tōru of the impropriety of turning informant, whatever the reason; and so something rather petty was by way of coming into this happy breakfast scene.

Their hands bumped awkwardly as they both reached for the sugar bowl.

A sugar bowl bright with betrayal in the morning sunlight. Feelings of guilt for having reached out simultaneously. It wounded Honda to think that this had been the first suggestion of a parental bond.

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