el.angeleyes-第47部分

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s　the　chairman　of　Kaga。　He　es　here　because　of　his　sexual　proclivities。　He　is　certain　that　no　one　who　would　recognize　him　would　ever　frequent　such　a　dive。〃
　〃But　he's　wrong；〃　Honno　said。　〃You've　recognized　him。〃
　〃We　are　always　wrong；〃　Fukuda　said　cryptically。　〃Big　Ezoe　owns　this　akachochin。　You　would　be　astounded　at　the　wide　range　of　information　that　may　be　acquired　in　places　such　as　this。〃　Fukuda　nodded。　〃Now　watch　as　we　walk　past　the　creature　who　has　the　chairman's　undivided　attention。〃
　Honno　kept　her　eyes　on　the　beautifully　dressed　woman　on　the　Kaga　chairman's　arm。　As　they　passed　the　couple；　Honno　stifled　a　gasp　of　recognition。　The　woman　was　a　man。　A　transvestite。
　Outside　the　akachochin；　Honno　breathed　deeply。　She　weled　the　rain　pattering　down　on　her。　How　her　perceptions　had　changed。　The　night　air；　filled　with　deposition；　seemed　almost　pure　pared　to　the　atmosphere　inside；　gravid　with　sinister　lusts。
　In　the　sanctuary　and　fort　of　the　Mercedes；　they　slipped　across　the　river；　headed　toward　the　bright　lights；　the　modern　high　rises　of　an　entirely　different　Tokyo。
　In　the　Akasaka　district　the　Mercedes　sped　them　toward　the　Capitol　Tokyo　Hotel。　In　the　Origami　Coffee　House；　Fukuda　ordered　them　the　justly　famous　German　apple　pancakes。　Honno　found　that　she　had　no　appetite。　She　watched　in　a　kind　of　numbed　silence　as　Fukuda　ate　his　food　then；　determining　she　had　no　intention　of　eating　hers；　cut　into　her　pancakes。
　Five　minutes　after　he　had　finished；　as　if　on　cue；　he　turned　toward　the　entrance　to　the　restaurant。　Honno　followed　his　gaze；　saw　to　her　amazement　her　boss；　Kunio　Michita；　walk　through　the　door。　He　spoke　briefly　to　the　hostess；　who　seated　him　at　a　table　with　a　man　Honno　had　not　noticed　before。　Now　she　did。　He　was　the　finance　minister　of　Japan。
　The　two　men　bowed　cordially　to　one　another　and　began　to　talk　in　animated　fashion。　They　ordered　only　coffee；　but　hardly　touched　their　order。　Minutes　later　they　got　up　to　leave。
　Fukuda　paid　the　check　and　took　Honno　out。　They　followed　the　two　men　out　into　the　semidarkness　of　the　night。　All　around　them　glittering　high　rises　bespoke　the　enormous　wealth　of　the　new　Japan。
　Honno　could　find　nothing　strange　in　this　assignation。　She　saw　only　two　men　meeting　for　a　friendly　discussion。　It　was　then　that　she　saw　the　buff…colored　envelope　pass　from　Kunio　Michita's　hand　to　that　of　the　finance　minister's。　It　was　quickly　put　away　in　the　finance　minister's　inside　jacket　pocket。　The　men　continued　their　stroll；　their　talk；　as　if　nothing　had　happened。　Ten　minutes　later　they　parted。
　Fukuda　and　Honno　continued　their　walk　through　Akasaka。　Honno　thought　of　the　fantastic　run　of　luck　Michita　Industries　had　had　over　the　past　year：　winning　bids；　ing　in　at　just　the　right　time　on　government…sponsored　projects；　always　being　eligible　for　government　incentives　in　new　and　emerging　industries；　closing　down　divisions　just　before　the　ministries　declared　their　product　obsolete　or　nonpriority。　Now　she　knew　that　luck　had　nothing　to　do　with　it。　No　wonder　it　had　not　rubbed　off　on　her。
　All　around　them；　the　superstructure　of　Tokyo　rose　into　the　clouds　and　the　rain。　The　sky　was　so　low；　it　was　bright　with　the　city's　efflorescence。　Tokyo　stood　as　a　modern　miracle　of　terra…forming。　Honno　had　always　loved　this　city；　but　now；　as　if　with　a　twist　of　a　kaleidoscope；　she　was　seeing　it　from　another　vantage　point。
　She　remembered；　at　the　beginning　of　this　evening；　looking　out　the　window　of　the　apartment　Big　Ezoe　had　given　her；　seeing　the　moonlight　play　across　the　bosom　of　the　Sumida　River。　A　dream　of　hers　had　been　fulfilled。　But　now　she　had　been　exposed　to　the　opposite　side　of　that　dream；　a　nightmarish　world　that　harbored　every　form　of　perversion；　corruption；　and　deceit。　And　these　two　worlds　were　part　of　the　same　Tokyo。　Her　Tokyo。　My　God；　she　thought。　What　I've　witnessed　is　monstrous。　How　will　I　ever　fall　in　love　with　Tokyo　again？
　Fukuda　led　her　into　a　small　park。　There　was　one　stone　bench。　Honno　could　hear　the　soft　tinkling　of　a　stream　but　she　could　not　see　it。　They　sat　on　the　bench；　which　had　a　view　of　the　park's　lone　tree；　a　cryptomeria　that　leaned　far　to　its　right；　as　if　caught　in　a　high　wind。
　''I　particularly　enjoy　this　spot；''　Fukuda　said；　as　if　to　himself。　〃Often；　I　find　the　grid　of　the　city　overly　grim；　like　staring　at　a　detailed　blueprint　for　far　too　long。　Its　beauty　is　leached　away　by　familiarity。　Then　I　e　here；　and　look　at　this　cryptomeria。〃
　〃Poor　tree；〃　Honno　said。　〃It　looks　as　if　the　hand　of　God　has　mauled　it。〃
　〃On　the　contrary；〃　Fukuda　said；　〃it　seems　to　me　that　the　cryptomeria's　beauty　is　transfigured；　made　awesome　by　its　pain。　Look。　The　stark　contrast　of　its　bark　and　needles　to　the　backdrop　of　steel　and　glass　and　neon；　the　twisting　of　its　trunk　arcs　against　the　rectangles　of　the　buildings。　Whether　nature　or　man　is　responsible　for　the　tree's　form；　no　one　can　say。〃
　And　then　Honno　understood　what　Fukuda　meant。　It　did　not　matter　which　was　responsible　for　the　tree's　form。　Nature　and　man　were　here　bee　one。　This　was　the　purpose　of　the　cryptomeria；　as　if　by　its　tortured　appearance　it　could　bring　meaning　out　of　the　inchoate　meaninglessness　of　the　city。
　〃Yes；〃　Honno　said。　〃I　believe　I；　too；　would　enjoy　ing　back　here　from　time　to　time。''
　It　was　nearly　three　A。M。　Their　last　stop　was　a　bunkerlike　building　in　Shimabashi。　It　was　made　of　ferroconcrete　and　was　absolutely　featureless；　an　ultramodern　edifice　set　off　by　the　older　buildings　that　surrounded　it。
　Inside　was　a　world　of　semidarkness；　similar　to　what　one　found　in　the　heart　of　a　forest。　〃You　may　change　in　there；〃　Fukuda　said；　indicating　a　door。
　Honno　went　through；　stripped；　bathed；　clothed　herself　in　a　fresh　white　gi；　the　cotton　divided　skirt；　the　loose　overblouse　of　the　martial　arts　discipline。　She　was　alone　in　the　dojo　for　several　minutes。　It　was　very　different　from　the　one　she　worked　in　with　Big　Ezoe　at　his　club　in　the　Ginza。　This　space　was　darker；　far　more　forbidding。　She　felt　as　if　she　were　deep　in　the　castle　keep　of　the　Shogun；　Ieyasu　Tokugawa。
　Fukuda　soon　appeared。　He　was　wearing　a　protective　wire…mesh　mask　and　carrying　two　bokken；　the　traditional　wooden　swords　used　in　kenjutsu　practice　instead　of　the　steel　katana。　He　also　carried　another　mask。
　〃How　are　your　swordfighting　skills；　Mrs。　Kansei？〃　Fukuda　asked　as　he　threw　her　a　bokken　and　the　mask　and　began　his　advance；　all　in　one　movement。
　Honno　did　not　even　have　time　to　answer　him。　He　took　her　through　the　entire　range　of　attack　and　parry　strategies；　from　firecut　to　fallen　leaves；　from　sea…land　change　to　crossing　at　the　ford。　Honno　did　her　best　to　respond；　but　she　was　unused　to　being　up　all　night；　and　this；　bined　with　the　shocks　she　had　received　while　walking　Tokyo's　seamy　underbelly；　caused　her　focus　to　wander；　and　consequently　made　this　an　inauspicious　time　to　work　on　her　kenjutsu。
　However；　as　she　well　knew；　one　could　rarely　choose　the　time　of　battle；　and　so　one　needed　to　concentrate　within　and　through　every　conceivable　type　of　situation。　So　she　gathered　herself；　bore　down　a　little　harder　with　her　mind　and　with　her　body。
　And　from　this　determination；　she　discovered　something　interesting：　Fukuda　was　toying　with　her。　She　could　sense　it　now　that　she　was　concentrating；　in　the　laziness　of　his　parries；　in　the　haphazard　manner　with　which　he　chose　to　move　from　strategy　to　strategy。
　There　was；　as　a　foundation　of　Honno's　curriculum　in　kenjutsu；　the　necessity　to　unlock　the　secret　of　your　opponent's　strategy。　With　that　knowledge；　one　divined　weaknesses　as　well　as　strengths。　Now　one's　own　strategy　was　quickly　formed：　a　series　of　attacks　and　parries；　building　in　a　kind　of　crescendo；　to　weaken　the　opponent　bit　by　bit；　to　strip　him　of　his　defenses；　and　then　to　attack　with　the　one；　swift　fatal　strike。
　What　was　Fukuda's　strategy？　His　haphazardness　made　his　intentions　impossible　to　fathom。　But　the　real　question　was；　was　he　merely　sloppy　or　was　he　being　devious？　Was　he　hiding　his　strategy　or　did　he；　in　fact；　have　none？
　Honno's　kenjutsu　sensei　had　told　her　that　it　was　far　better　to　overestimate　an　opponent　than　to　underestimate　him。　With　this　in　mind；　Honno　kept　her　concentration　strong　and　slowly　expanded　her　wa。
　She　did　not　seek　in　any　overt　way　to　take　control　of　the　match。　This；　she　suspected；　was　just　what　Fukuda　wanted　her　to　do；　and　in　being　careless；　to　fall　into　a　trap　he　had　tying　in　wait　for　her。　She　had　not　forgotten　me　lesson　learned　in　her　aikido　bout　with　Big　Ezoe；　and　she　was　determined　not　to　repeat　her　mistake。
　To　the　untrained　eye　nothing　appeared　to　have　altered　in　the　match。　Fukuda　was　still　dictating　the　random　flow　of　strategies。　But　the　slow　expansion　of　Honno's　wa　was　making　its　presence　felt。　She　attacked　with　more　strength；　parried　with　greater　swiftness；　counterattacked　with　more　terror。　Slowly；　she　was　moving　the　field　of　battle　across　the　tatami　mats　of　the　dojo；　until　Fukuda　was　nearly　backed　up　against　the　edge　of　the　battlefield。　To　step　outside　the　perimeter　onto　the　polished　wooden　floor　would　mean　defeat。
　Now　Honno　expanded　her　wa　to　its　fullest　and；　as　she　did　so；　her　body　went　limp。　The　bokken　dropped　from　her　hands；　and　as　Fukuda's　wooden　sword　slashed　downward　at　her　head；　she　reached　up；　caught　it　between　the　palms　of　her　hands。
　Fukuda　immediately　stopped；　bowed　to　Honno。　〃Big　Ezoe　was　indeed　correct　about　your　warrior's　spirit。〃
　〃But　I　am　a　woman；〃　Honno　said。　〃And　history　records　so　few　women　warriors。''
　Fukuda　took　off　the　protective　mask；　and　Honno　gaped　at　the　face　beneath。　〃Is　that　you？〃　Honno　whispered；　ing　closer。　〃The　real　you？　〃
　The　face　that；　without　lipstick；　behind　a　pair　of　man's　sun…glasses；　had　seemed　so　handsomely　masculine；　had　now　been　transformed　into　a　paradigm　of　feminine　beauty。　And　in　that　transformation　Honno　saw　the　falseness　in　the　concepts　of　''handsome''　and　''beautiful〃　with　which　she　had　been　brought　up。　She　saw　only　the　truth　of　the　reality　that　Fukuda　had　brought　home　to　her：　perception　of　the　world；　and　how　it　was　constructed；　was　nothing　more　than　a　spiderweb　of　lessons　absorbed　with　your　mother's　milk。
　〃I；　too；　am　a　woman；　Mrs。　Kansei；〃　Fukuda　said。　〃I　am　sensei　in　sixteen　separate　martial　arts。〃　Her　dark　eyes　shone；　not　with　pride；　but　in　reflection　of　the　revelation　she　recognized　illuminat