Aso had lied. He hadnt stripped Yukari naked and deserted her on Battery No. 6. The absurd scheme of turning an uninhabited island nearby into a paradise on earth had no doubt been Yukaris suggestion; Aso, while horrified by the inanity of it, must have helped her out. How else could the vegetables and fruits growing on Battery No. 6 be explained? Moreover, the boy wasnt naked; they were rags by now, but he was clothed. The bare essentials for survival must have been prepared at the outset and brought to the island.
Where, then, was Yukari, the boys mother? Probably dead and buried. If she were alive, shed have to be somewhere other than Battery No. 6. In any case, she wasnt a living inhabitant of the island. Assuming Aso hadnt lied about absolutely everything, Yukari had become pregnant that summer nine years ago and given birth the following year. That made the boy eight years old. If hed been living with his mother for the whole time, hed know how to speak. Instead he must have lost his mother when he was around five, and forgotten, during the solitary years that followed, even the little hed learned from her. Whether Yukari had died on Battery No. 6 or abandoned the child and escaped alone would be clear if and when they dug up the mound under the wooden tablets.
Kensukes hunch was that Yukari rested in peace under that mound of earth.
The satisfied expression on Asos face as he lay at deaths door At long last, Kensuke understood. Aso had smiled to himself for secretly having disseminated his seed here on earth. The force that aided the strange seedling from afar didnt work for plants alone. Kensuke was looking at the proof.
Sensing that Kensuke was staring at him, the boy met his gaze. Almost no expression appeared on the boys face as he turned it back toward Battery No. 6 shrinking in the distance.
III THE HOLD
1
There is an observation platform shaped like a five-needle pine at the tip of Cape Futtsu. A climb to the top reveals a panoramic view that encompasses Yokosuka and Cape Kannon. Hiroyuki Inagaki had brought his son with him to the observation platform for the first time in a while.
The tide was visibly rapid between Breakwater No. 1 and Breakwater No. 2. A sandbar extended like an arc from the promontory in front, falling only a little short of Breakwater No. 1. Shortly after the war, you could cross over as far as Breakwater No. 1 in a jeep at low tide, but these days that was no longer possible. A mere row of dots, the sandbar was now barely visible above the water, making the crossing extremely difficult even on foot. As a child, Hiroyuki had heard how someone had tried to walk across only to become stranded when the tide shifted. The unfortunate man was said to have been washed away by the current, and his body was never recovered.
It was a windy Saturday afternoon in early summer. For some time now, Hiroyuki had been staring intently at the rapid current between the two breakwaters. From their position on the observation platform, the ships looked as small as peas on the water. Indeed, that very stretch of sea was where he worked. Hiroyuki was a fisherman. He fished for Futtsu conger eels between the breakwaters for twenty-five days a month.
Hed inherited the job from his father fifteen years ago. During that time, the face of Tokyo Bay had changed dramatically. The sandbar that stretched out to sea now pointed much further to the north than before. Landfills had been created and the seabed dredged to widen the sea-lanes. These changes wrought by man had disrupted the balanced rhythm of the tides, resulting in sand being washed away and the sandbar being eroded at its south end.
For all the changes that had taken place, however, Hiroyuki did not feel particularly concerned. As long as his catch brought in the monthly target of no less than one million yen, he could not have cared less how much the face of Tokyo Bay changed. He wanted to slap down that million yen on the table in front of his wife every month. As long as he did that, she had no reason to complain.
Okay, lets be off.
Hiroyuki playfully pushed his sons head down. Katsumi was a very quiet and withdrawn child. He made no response and continued to gaze wistfully toward the Miura Peninsula. But the moment he saw his father going down the stairs, he chased after him in a hurry.
There was a man selling roasted corn on the cob in a stall at the bottom of the stairway.
Want some?
Not waiting for his son to answer, Hiroyuki bought a cob from the vendor whom he seemed to know.
Have you seen the wife round here? he asked as he took his change.
The vendor only laughed and shook his head.
Hiroyuki handed his son the corn and beckoned with his soy sauce stained hand to follow after him:
Come.
Katsumi didnt really want the corn, but knew that refusing something offered by his father would invite his wrath. His father might even strike him. Katsumi took the corn without a word and spied his fathers expression to gauge his mood. He began to nibble at the cob and tagged along behind his father. His mother had strictly forbidden him to eat snacks between meals. His father, however, would buy Katsumi sweets and candy, not out of carelessness but in wilful defiance of his wifes wishes. Every time this happened, Katsumi felt himself to be in an impossible position. He would earn a tongue-lashing from his mother if he ignored her but would get his ears boxed if he refused what his father offered. The worse part of it was that his father always bought him things he didnt want.
Katsumi dawdled several yards behind his father as they walked along the beach on the north side of the cape. The cape jutted out into the sea and divided the waves into the raging and the calm. Rough waves broke on the southern shore, while gentler waves washed the northern side of the cape. The calmer shore was host to hordes of four wheel drive vehicles from Tokyo. The drivers and passengers of these cars that lined the shore had come to spend an enjoyable Saturday afternoon by the sea. Young people sped about on jet-skis in the water, while on the beach families barbecued fish, the adults drinking beer. Every corner of the beach teemed with summer fun and resounded with happy peals of laughter.
Hiroyuki stopped walking and looked around. His son now lagged more than thirty feet behind him. The boy shambled unsteadily this way and that, eating the piece of corn with a plain expression of disgust. As he watched, Hiroyuki was overwhelmed by a surge of irritation.
Unaware of his fathers annoyance, Katsumi was watching a jet-ski speeding over the water and spraying a shower of seawater in its wake. Yet this was no look of envy; Katsumi was terrified of water. He would always find some excuse not to take part in school swimming lessons. He was also averse to taking baths. This was no doubt the reason why he could hardly swim, even though he was already eleven years old. As far as his father was concerned, the inability to swim was tantamount to betrayal in the son of a fisherman.
Hiroyuki bellowed out his sons name. The roaring engines of the jet-skis drowned out his voice, however, as the riders sped around in circles. Still looking out to the sea, Katsumi dawdled along the beach, kicking up sand. Hiroyuki shouted his name again and started walking toward his son. As a shadow loomed over him, Katsumi became aware of his fathers presence. He flinched instinctively. He thought he was in for a beating.
Give it here! roared his father.
He took the corn from his son and finished it off.
Now thats the way to eat corn. Got that, lad?
He tossed the corncob away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Hiroyuki was startled by a shriek from down by his side. Katsumi was holding his stomach and groaning in pain. At first, Hiroyuki couldnt tell what was the matter.
Were sorry!
The apology came from a father and his son as they came running up. They had their hands stuffed into baseball gloves.
Hiroyuki looked down and saw a ball at his sons feet. The boy and his father had been playing catch in front of the nearby pine grove and the ball must have been overthrown, hitting Katsumi in the ribs.
The two approached Hiroyuki and Katsumi, both bowing apologetically. Sorry! Are you all right?
Cant you be more damned careful? yelled Hiroyuki, throwing the ball back in their direction.
Katsumi was still squatting down on the sand. Hiroyuki took his hand, pulled him to his feet, and started examining the side of his chest where the ball had struck. He found nothing much wrong, just a faint red bruise under his T-shirt.
Its nothing at all. Youll be okay. Patting his son reassuringly on the ribs, Hiroyuki pronounced a clean bill of health.
Katsumi began to walk, but his pace was even slower than before. He still held his side, his face distorted in an exaggerated look of misery. He shortly began to drag his feet, his tongue dangling from a half-open mouth, and he let out deep sighs. This served to irritate Hiroyuki badly enough that he felt the need to take his anger out on someone or something.
The boy and his father whose ball had struck Katsumi had returned to the area by the pine grove to resume their game of catch. Both wore matching polo shirts of a well-known brand, and both reeked of the city from head to toe. The little boy was about Katsumis age and extraordinarily agile for a kid from the city.
Picking them as the target to vent his anger on, he strode over to where they were playing and called to them in a thick, menacing voice.
Say, you two over there!
They stopped playing catch and turned to face Hiroyuki with anxious expressions that only fuelled the flames of his resentment. The timid, nervous look in their eyes strengthened his resolve to vent his spleen on them to his hearts content.
He stopped within a few paces of them and growled, I want your name and address.
Huh? The father looked at once puzzled and contemptuous.
My boy says it hurts so much he cant walk. What you gonna do if hes broken a rib or something? Hiroyuki held out his left arm and pointed behind him to where his son was; only his son wasnt there.
Katsumi had pretended it had hurt more than it did, to get a little sympathy from his father. Yet when he realized that he had only incited his fathers wrath, his throat parched with fear. On this particular occasion, his fathers anger just happened not to be directed at him. Nonetheless, Katsumi was terrified. As his father walked away, his back radiated malevolence. Left to run its natural course, it could well develop into violence. Katsumi wanted to avoid such a scene at all costs. What terrified him more than calling his fathers wrath upon himself was seeing him beat up others. It was particularly horrifying when the victim was his mother. At such times he could hardly breathe.