The Isle of South Kamui and Other Stories by Kyotaro Nishimura Page A

dream, I had shot her naked body. That dream would never change or fade. Every time I recalled it, her naked body would fall with bright red blood flowing from her white breast. That was certain.
    It was still raining.
    I was exhausted.
    That night the wind raged. The TV and radio announced that the tropical storm off the coast of Kanto had strengthened and been upgraded to a typhoon.
    Upstairs in my room, I pressed my face up to the window and stared out at the stormy night sea. Every now and then a heavy squall of rain spattered against the glass and passed by.
    The sea was baring its white fangs. Its gentle face of indolence at the height of summer had gone. It had transformed. The sea tonight was violent and aggressive. This morning it betrayed me, defeated me. And now it was howling, as if challenging me.
    Of a mind to accept the sea’s challenge, I went out onto the balcony. I wanted to feel my body exposed to the wind and rain.
    I was soon drenched to the skin. The rain was driving against me in large drops that hurt. The wind tried to sweep me off my feet. I braced myself, planting my feet firmly, and glared at the sea with my eyes wide open.
    The wind and rain raged furiously, but then abruptly dropped. I continued to glare at the dark, boundlessly dark sea. In that blackness, I tried to recall everything that had happened to me since yesterday. I hoped that the roughness of the sea would expunge anything not worth remembering from my consciousness.
    What on earth had I done these past two days? What had happened? I made an effort to remember. She was reading under the parasol. I swam. He arrived in his bright red sports car. I almost drowned. There was a young blonde girl. In my hands, a small crab was crushed to bits. I had fired the rifle at night on the headland, and I had touched her lips. And I had beaten up a young man. I could remember many things, but all the images were terribly vague. What had that little blonde girl’s face looked like? I couldn’t remember. Even the bright red drop of blood on her breast had dimmed. I was getting exasperated. Was reality as vague and nebulous for Yukibe as it was for me? No, it couldn’t be. For her, there would surely always be a definite response to reality. That was probably why she had left school and home behind and taken to the streets. She had a clearly defined enemy to fight. But for me, it was as if there was a veil over my eyes and nothing at all was clear.
    I wanted to shoot that veil away with the rifle. A momentary flash might make this vague, hazy reality into something unchanging and solid. It might clarify what I needed to do.
    I went back into my room. I paid no attention to the water dripping from my drenched body as I took out my hunting rifle. Before loading it, I aimed it at the dark stormy sea. I would shoot at the sea, at the invisible veil. With my nerves on edge, my senses were keener than ever. That was probably why I noticed that something was not quite right. There was a slight difference in how it handled, and I noticed it right away. The gun was heavier than usual.
    Did I leave it loaded?
    No, that was not possible. I had no recollection of reloading it after firing it at the headland last night.
    I checked the barrel. As I had thought, it wasn’t loaded. But near the muzzle, I discovered something was blocking it; a ball of lead.
    A chill ran down my spine. If, unawares, I had loaded the rifle and pulled the trigger, the weapon would have exploded and probably killed me.
    Gradually the fear subsided. In its place, rage welled up. Who could have done such a thing?
    It was him!
    It must have been him. I could not think otherwise. It must have been him.
    I had found a target for my bullet. The haze had not lifted from reality, but the enemy had become clear. This man was my enemy.
    I took out my tools and removed the lump of lead; then I slowly loaded a bullet. My hands trembled slightly, not from fear but from the fury I