Quicksand (16 page)

(
Author's note:
The entire main text of the agreement was written by brush in tiny, meticulously formed characters, very carefully spaced, without a single corrected dot or stroke, on two sheets of fine white Japanese paper bound with a twisted-paper cord. Since more than a quarter sheet of standard legal-size paper was left blank, there was no need for such small characters, but no doubt Mr. Watanuki was accustomed to writing in that rather fussy manner. The calligraphy was adequate, for a young man these days unused to brush writing, but hardly surpassed the vulgar competence of a shop clerk's hand. The two signatures at the end had been written by fountain pen, in that second-floor room of Umezono, and here the signature of the widow Kakiuchi was disproportionately large. What seemed particularly repellent were the two seeping brownish stains that looked like little flower petals impressed below the signatures; two of the same kind of stains were spread across the seams of the paper, where seals would also have been applied. The widow's own account will suffice to explain them.)

“How does it appeal to you, Sister?” he asked me. “Are these conditions agreeable? If they are, won't you please sign and seal the document? Of course if you find anything lacking, don't hesitate to say so.”

“An agreement like this is all right, as far as it goes,” I said. “But what about a child? Wouldn't you and Mitsu begin to be more concerned about your own family? I'd like you to take that into consideration too.”

“It's covered by the third provision: ‘Her brother, even after the marriage, will offer no objection whatever to the existing relationship between his sister and Mitsuko.' So you see, I haven't the slightest intention of sacrificing you for the sake of our family. But if you're still worried about it, I'll add anything you like to put your mind at ease. What do you suggest?”

“Since Mitsu has to carry the baby long enough to be married, I suppose it can't be helped. But I want you to promise you won't have any more children.”

He thought for a moment.

“Very well,” he said. “I wonder how to put it. There are various circumstances . . .”

He was taking into account all sorts of things that hadn't even occurred to me—look at what's written by pen on the back of the second sheet. Those are the conditions he added at that time.

(
Author's note:
On the back sheet of the vow reproduced above was appended the following text, under the heading “Additional Provision”:

And two further provisions seemed to have been added as an afterthought:

Here, as well, a pair of brownish stains dotted the paper.)

When he finished writing this, Watanuki said: “Now that we've made things definite, we can both feel relieved. Reading it over, I can see that it's a good deal more to your advantage than mine, Sister. That must show you how sincere I am.” And he asked me to sign my name.

“I'm willing to sign it,” I said, “but I don't have my seal.”

“For a pledge as brother and sister, an ordinary seal isn't sufficient. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to bear a little pain.”

Then, with a knowing grin, he took something from his pocket.

“
PLEASE ALLOW ME
,” Watanuki said, grasping me firmly by the hand and drawing my kimono sleeve up to my shoulder. “This will hurt only a moment.”

I had thought he would want a fingertip, but he proceeded to bind two handkerchiefs tight around my upper arm.

“You don't have to do that for a seal, do you?” I asked.

“It's not just the seal. We've got to swear a blood oath as brother and sister.” He pulled up one of his sleeves, and held his own arm next to mine. “Are you ready, Sister? You mustn't cry out. . . . Close your eyes—it'll be over before you know it.”

I was afraid of what would happen if I resisted; besides, there was no use trying to escape. The object gleaming in his hand had terrified me. It was too late! Now my eyes were shut—what was to stop him from slitting my throat? Just as I resigned myself to being murdered, I felt something sharp graze my arm above the elbow, and I almost fainted, as if I might be having a stroke.

“Steady! Steady!” he encouraged me. I opened my eyes and saw that he was holding his arm out to me. “Come, Sister, you drink first.” After that ritual was finished, he grasped my finger, bloodied it, and pressed it hard against the paper again and again, making the seals. “You need to seal it here, and here, and here.”

I felt deathly afraid of him and meant to keep my promise faithfully, so I locked my copy of the oath up in the cabinet drawer. It troubled me to keep it secret from Mitsuko, but I tried not to give the least hint to her. Still, I must have seemed nervous. The next day Mitsuko darted a strange look at me and asked: “Sister, how did you get that cut?”

“Oh, that,” I said. “I wonder. Last night I was eaten alive by mosquitoes; maybe I scratched myself raw.”

“That's funny,” she replied. “Eijiro has a scratch in exactly the same place.”

Now I see what I'm in for, I thought, feeling myself go pale.

“Sister, you're hiding something from me, aren't you? Please tell me the truth about that cut.” And she went on: “You're trying to deceive me, but I have a good idea what happened. You and Eijiro made a private pact, without letting me know, didn't you?”

Well, Mitsuko's suspicions were plainly on the right track. There was no use pretending ignorance if she saw through me like that, but although I knew I had turned white as a sheet, I wouldn't answer her.

“That's right, isn't it?” she insisted. “Why won't you admit it?”

As she kept after me, she told me that yesterday Watanuki had come to see her on his way home and she caught a glimpse of the wound on his arm. From that time on, she had suspected there was more to it; you couldn't imagine both of us having identical scratches at the same time.

“Which of us do you really care for, Sister, Eijiro or me?” she asked.

And then: “Since you're keeping it secret, you must think it's something I have no right to know.”

Finally, as if she had to get to the bottom of what was going on between Watanuki and me, she said: “I won't let you leave till you tell me!”

She was as calm as could be, but she kept her gaze fixed on me, and there were resentful tears in those enchanting, indescribably lovely eyes. If she had implored me with her eyes alone, I couldn't have resisted their bewitchment. And if she was already so suspicious, there was sure to be a row sooner or later. The longer I kept my secret, the more she would suspect me, I knew, and yet I couldn't simply blurt it out to her without consulting Watanuki.

“Please wait till tomorrow,” I begged her.

But she asked why it had to be tomorrow, why I couldn't tell her today. If I had to get permission from someone else, she didn't even want to hear it. She certainly wouldn't cause any trouble for me if I told her in confidence. Nothing less would satisfy her.

So I retorted: “You say all that, Mitsu, but aren't
you
hiding something from
me
?”

“What could I be hiding?” she protested. “If that's how you feel, just ask me—I'll tell you anything you like.”

“Really? You're sure?”

“Of course I'm sure. Maybe there's something I haven't told you about myself, but it's not because I'm trying to keep it secret.”

“Not even about your physical condition?”

“What on earth are you getting at, Sister?”

“Well, how about the day you came to my house in so much pain? Were you really pregnant?”

“Oh, that time,” she said, her face reddening with embarrassment. “But I was putting on an act. I just wanted to see you. . . .”

“That's not what I'm asking. I'd like to know whether you were
pregnant
.”

“Well, I wasn't.”

“And you still aren't, even now?”

“Of course I'm not. Why are you being so suspicious?”

“I can't tell you why, but I have my reasons.”

“Oh, Sister!” Suddenly Mitsuko looked as if she understood. “Sister, I'm sure Eijiro told you I was pregnant, didn't he? That must be it! But the truth is, he isn't
capable
of fathering a child—”

She broke off, teeth clenched, and tears began trickling down her cheeks.

I was shocked.

“What do you mean, Mitsu?” I said, doubting my own ears.

Then she told me, sobbing, that to this very day she had never concealed anything about herself from me, but that Watanuki had a secret he couldn't possibly reveal, and she had respected his privacy, thinking that if the truth came out, it would be humiliating for both of them and terribly painful for him. But she had no sympathy for a person who would slander her behind her back. He was to blame for getting her into this miserable situation, she said; all her troubles were his doing. Still crying, she started telling me about Watanuki from the first time she met him.