Thousand Cranes Read Online Free Page B

into her face in the semi-darkness.
5
    Some two weeks later, the Ota girl called on Kikuji.
    He had the maid show her into the parlor. In an effort to quiet the beating of his heart, he opened the tea cupboard and took out sweets. Had the girl come alone, or was her mother waiting outside, unable to come in?
    The girl stood up as he opened the door. Her head was bowed, and Kikuji saw that the out-thrust lower lip was firmly closed.
    ‘I’ve kept you waiting.’ Kikuji opened the glass doors to the garden. As he passed behind the girl, he caught a faint scent from the white peony in the vase. Her full shoulders were thrown slightly forward.
    ‘Please sit down.’ Kikuji took a seat himself. He was strangely composed, seeing the image of the mother in the daughter.
    ‘I really should have telephoned first.’ Her head was still bowed.
    ‘Not at all. But I’m surprised that you were able to find the place.’
    She nodded.
    Then Kikuji remembered: during the air raids, she had seen his father as far as the gate. He had heard the story from Mrs Ota at the Engakuji.
    On the point of mentioning it, he stopped himself. He looked at the girl.
    Mrs Ota’s warmth came over him like warm water. She had gently surrendered everything, he remembered, and he had felt secure.
    Because of that security, he now felt his wariness fade. The girl did not return his gaze.
    ‘I …’ She broke off and looked up. ‘I have a request to make. About my mother.’
    Kikuji caught his breath.
    ‘I want you to forgive her.’
    ‘To forgive her?’ Kikuji sensed that the mother had told the daughter of him. ‘I’m the one to be forgiven if anyone is.’
    ‘I’d like you to forgive her for your father too.’
    ‘And isn’t he the one to be forgiven? But my mother is no longer alive in any case, and who would do the forgiving?’
    ‘It is Mother’s fault that your father died so soon. And your mother. I told Mother so.’
    ‘You are imagining things. You musn’t be unkind to her.’
    ‘Mother should have died first.’ She spoke as if she found the shame intolerable.
    Kikuji saw that she was speaking of his own relations with her mother. How deeply they must have wounded and shamed her!
    ‘I want you to forgive her,’ the girl said once more, an urgent plea in her voice.
    ‘It’s not a question of forgiving or not forgiving.’ Kikuji spoke with precision. ‘I am grateful to your mother.’
    ‘She is bad. She is no good, and you must have nothing more to do with her. You are not to worry yourself about her.’ The words poured out, and her voice was trembling. ‘Please.’
    Kikuji understood what she meant by forgive. She included a request that he see no more of Mrs Ota.
    ‘Don’t telephone her.’ The girl flushed as she spoke. She raised her head and looked at him, as if in an effort to master the shyness. There were tears in the wide, near-black eyes, and there was no trace of malice. The eyes were submitting a desperate petition.
    ‘I understand,’ said Kikuji. ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘Please, I beg you.’ As the shyness deepened, the flush spread to her long, white throat. She was in European dress, and a necklace set off the beauty of the throat. ‘She made an appointment over the telephone and then didn’t keep it. I stopped her. When she tried to go out, I hung on her and wouldn’t let her.’ The voice now carried a note of relief.
    Kikuji had telephoned Mrs Ota the third day after their meeting. She had seemed overjoyed, and yet she had not come to the appointed tea room.
    Besides the one telephone call, Kikuji had had no communication with her.
    ‘Afterwards I felt sorry for her, but at the time it was so wretched – I was so desperate to keep her from going. She told me to refuse for her, then, and I got as far as the telephone and couldn’t say anything. Mother was staring at the telephone, and tears were streaming over her face. She felt you there in the telephone, I know she did. That is the sort of person