The Isle of South Kamui and Other Stories Read Free Page B

will go crazy with the festivities, and you’ll get your pick of the women. All you have to do is put your arm around a woman, like this, and say ‘Let’s do maguhai ,’ and most times she’ll accept. Magu is a woman’s you-know-what, by the way.”
    The salesman illustrated his invitation with hand gestures. I had nothing against women. I had thoroughly enjoyed the extraordinarily soft body of the Chinese girl I’d held in my arms in Hong Kong. The women on this island, though, with their sunburned skin and cruel laugh just did not whet my appetite. And I was tired.
    I declined, and the salesman set off for the mountain grumbling to himself, probably about what a bad sport I was. It seemed he had stronger nerves than I did.
    I did not feel like going back go the party, so I left the inn and went back to the dispensary.
    In the back of the dispensary there was a six tatami-mat room that apparently served as a bedroom. I switched on the light, a naked bulb, and lay down fully dressed on the sunbleached tatami. The electricity supply on the island was shut off at eight in the evening, but the hands of my watch indicated that it was nearly nine. An exception was probably being made on account of the festival. Or perhaps it was a special privilege granted to me as the doctor.
    It was hot and I dozed fitfully. The monotonous drumbeat was setting my nerves on edge. Drumming at festivals on the mainland was rousing and had a gaiety entirely befitting a festive occasion, but the drums I heard now were dull and cheerless, like dripping rain.
    As I turned over, the sound of a cat mewing came from the direction of the dispensary. I hated cats. I tutted to myself, got up, and went down into the dispensary and switched on the light. There under the desk cowered a white kitten.
    â€œTssss!” I hissed at it, trying to drive it out, but the creature just bared its fangs and made no attempt to move from under the desk. I was beginning to lose my temper. It was not just that I disliked like cats, but rather that everything I had encountered on this island since arriving here today had rubbed me the wrong way. I reached out a hand, grabbed the animal by the scruff of the neck, and roughly threw it outside.
    I went back to the other room and lay down. I felt terribly tired.
    I don’t like this island …
    Muttering this over and over again to myself, I fell into a light doze.
    I had no idea how long I had been asleep. When I awoke, I sensed the presence of someone in the room. The electric light had been switched off, and in its place, blue-white moonlight shone in through the open window. Perhaps it was because the air was clearer than in Tokyo, but it felt as though even the night air was tinted blue-white, and although I knew I was awake, I had the strange sensation of still being in a dream.
    A woman was standing by the window, and it was only the eerie atmosphere that prevented me from crying out. Feeling that it was a continuation of my dream, I gazed blankly at her. She was very slowly removing her pantaloons. Her upper body was already naked, and her breasts swung heavily in the moonlight. Once she was completely naked, she knelt on the tatami. Finally I was released from the moon’s spell and hastily got to my feet. The woman looked as if she was praying with her arms stretched out to me. As she drew her dark, tanned face close to mine, I realized that I had seen her before. It was the woman who had slit open the Streaked Shearwater’s belly right in front of me that afternoon.
    I had no idea what she was doing here, naked. She sidled up to me and put her arms around my neck and, as if intoning an incantation, said playfully, “It is the god’s will.” Her dark skin smelled of the sea. She wore a crimson flower in her hair, a southern bloom with a bright, venomous redness. The bittersweet fragrance of its large petals enveloped me.
    I tried to break loose, but her muscular