his memories of Kida and Akiyama, those two role models of his, men who
had influenced him so much, their faces rose up again and again before him
—he remembered the numerous favors they had done him—he was drawn
into a fond and tender mood of recollection. The expression on his face
must have changed, for the woman spoke.
“You’ve remembered, haven’t you?” she said. Her voice had changed,
too. “I had just had my hair cut very short and I told you how embarrassed I
was— how I felt cold from my ears to the back of my neck. Autumn was
just about over, so it must have . . . . That newspaper had just been
established in town, and I had gathered my courage and had my hair cut
short so I could be a reporter—every time your eyes moved to my neck I’d
turn as though I had been stung, to hide it from you. Oh, I remember it all
so well! You came back to my room with me, and right away I opened my
ribbon box and showed you the ribbons in it. I think I must have wanted to
give you evidence—to prove that my hair had been long, that I had tied it
up with ribbons until two or three days before. You were surprised at how
many there were, but as a matter of fact I had always liked ribbons, ever
since I was small.”
The three other visitors remained silent. They had all discussed with
Kozumi the things they had come to discuss, but since there were other
guests they had been sitting at ease, talking of this and that, when the
woman arrived. It was only proper that they should pass Kozumi on to this
next visitor, allow him to speak with her—but there was also something in
her manner that compelled them to be silent. Indeed, all three of the visitors
avoided looking at the woman’s face, or at Kozumi’s, and though they were
able to hear what was being said, they tried not to look as if they were
listening directly.
“When the newspaper company’s celebration was over we went down a
street in town, straight toward the ocean. There was a sunset that seemed it
might burst into flame at any moment. I’ll never forget what you said then
