looking from under my umbrella at those skeletal remains. I remember there were workmen wandering around that day, and so at first I paid no attention to the figure standing looking at one of the burnt-out buildings. It was only as I walked by that I became aware the figure had turned and was watching me. I paused, then looked around, and through the rain dripping off my umbrella, saw with a strange shock Kuroda looking expressionlessly towards me. Beneath his umbrella, he was hatless and dressed in a dark raincoat. The charred buildings behind him were dripping and the remnant of some gutter was making a large amount of rainwater splash down not far from him. I remember a truck going by between us, full of building workers. And I noticed how one of the spokes of his umbrella was broken, causing some more splashing just beside his foot.
Kuroda's face, which had been quite round before the war, had hollowed out around the cheekbones, and what looked like heavy lines had appeared towards the chin and the throat. And I thought to myself as I stood there: "He's not young any more." He moved his head very slightly. I was not sure if it was the beginning of a bow, or if he was just adjusting his head to get out of the splash of rainwater from his broken umbrella. Then he turned and began to walk off in the other direction. But it was not my intention to dwell on Kuroda here. Indeed, he would not be on my mind at all had his name not turned up so unexpectedly last month, during the chance meeting on the tram with Dr Saito. It was the afternoon I eventually took Ichiro to see his monster film--a trip he had been denied the previous day by Noriko's stubbornness. In fact, my grandson and I went by ourselves, Noriko refusing to come and Setsuko again volunteering to remain at home, it was, of course, simple childishness on Noriko's part, but Ichiro had his own interpretation of the women's behaviour. As we sat down to lunch that day, he continued to say: "Aunt Noriko and Mother aren't coming. It's much too scaring for women. They"d be much too scared, isn't that right, Oji?" "Yes, I expect that's right, Ichiro." "They"d be much too scared. Aunt Noriko, you"d be far too scared to see the film, wouldn't you?" "Oh yes," Noriko said, pulling a frightened face. "Even Oji's scared. Look, you can see even Oji's scared. And he's a man." That afternoon, as I was standing at the end of the entryway waiting to leave for the cinema, I witnessed a curious scene between Ichiro and his mother. While Setsuko was strapping up his sandals, I could see my grandson continually trying to say something to her. But whenever Setsuko said: "What is it, Ichiro, I can't hear," he would glare angrily, then cast a quick glance towards me to see if I had heard. Finally, once the sandals had been put on, Setsuko bent down so that Ichiro could whisper into her ear. She then nodded and disappeared into the house, returning a moment later with a raincoat, which she folded and handed to him. "It's unlikely to rain," I remarked, looking out beyond the front entrance. Indeed, it was a fine day outside. "All the same," Setsuko said, "Ichiro would like to take it with him." I was puzzled by this insistence on the raincoat. Then once we were out in the sunshine, and making our way down the hill towards the tram stop, I noticed the swagger with which Ichiro walked--as though the coat slung through his arm had transformed him into someone like Humphrey Bogart--and concluded it was all in imitation of some comic-book hero of his. I suppose we were almost at the bottom of the hill when Ichiro declared loudly: "Oji, you used to be a famous artist." "I expect that's right, Ichiro." "I told Aunt Noriko to show me Oji's pictures. But she won't show me." "Hmm. They"re all tidied away just for the moment." "Aunt Noriko's disobedient, isn't she, Oji? I told her to show me Oji's pictures. Why won't she show me?" I laughed and said: "I don't know, Ichiro. Perhaps she was busy with
Kuroda's face, which had been quite round before the war, had hollowed out around the cheekbones, and what looked like heavy lines had appeared towards the chin and the throat. And I thought to myself as I stood there: "He's not young any more." He moved his head very slightly. I was not sure if it was the beginning of a bow, or if he was just adjusting his head to get out of the splash of rainwater from his broken umbrella. Then he turned and began to walk off in the other direction. But it was not my intention to dwell on Kuroda here. Indeed, he would not be on my mind at all had his name not turned up so unexpectedly last month, during the chance meeting on the tram with Dr Saito. It was the afternoon I eventually took Ichiro to see his monster film--a trip he had been denied the previous day by Noriko's stubbornness. In fact, my grandson and I went by ourselves, Noriko refusing to come and Setsuko again volunteering to remain at home, it was, of course, simple childishness on Noriko's part, but Ichiro had his own interpretation of the women's behaviour. As we sat down to lunch that day, he continued to say: "Aunt Noriko and Mother aren't coming. It's much too scaring for women. They"d be much too scared, isn't that right, Oji?" "Yes, I expect that's right, Ichiro." "They"d be much too scared. Aunt Noriko, you"d be far too scared to see the film, wouldn't you?" "Oh yes," Noriko said, pulling a frightened face. "Even Oji's scared. Look, you can see even Oji's scared. And he's a man." That afternoon, as I was standing at the end of the entryway waiting to leave for the cinema, I witnessed a curious scene between Ichiro and his mother. While Setsuko was strapping up his sandals, I could see my grandson continually trying to say something to her. But whenever Setsuko said: "What is it, Ichiro, I can't hear," he would glare angrily, then cast a quick glance towards me to see if I had heard. Finally, once the sandals had been put on, Setsuko bent down so that Ichiro could whisper into her ear. She then nodded and disappeared into the house, returning a moment later with a raincoat, which she folded and handed to him. "It's unlikely to rain," I remarked, looking out beyond the front entrance. Indeed, it was a fine day outside. "All the same," Setsuko said, "Ichiro would like to take it with him." I was puzzled by this insistence on the raincoat. Then once we were out in the sunshine, and making our way down the hill towards the tram stop, I noticed the swagger with which Ichiro walked--as though the coat slung through his arm had transformed him into someone like Humphrey Bogart--and concluded it was all in imitation of some comic-book hero of his. I suppose we were almost at the bottom of the hill when Ichiro declared loudly: "Oji, you used to be a famous artist." "I expect that's right, Ichiro." "I told Aunt Noriko to show me Oji's pictures. But she won't show me." "Hmm. They"re all tidied away just for the moment." "Aunt Noriko's disobedient, isn't she, Oji? I told her to show me Oji's pictures. Why won't she show me?" I laughed and said: "I don't know, Ichiro. Perhaps she was busy with
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