The Isle of South Kamui and Other Stories by Kyotaro Nishimura Page A

was responsible for bringing in the disease. I also fell ill, it’s just that none of you noticed it; not just you, but that god you believe in didn’t notice either. And so you killed that salesman, who hadn’t done anything wrong. That god of yours made a mistake.”
    I knew these words could well prove fatal for me, but at the same time I was hoping that they would pierce his heart. I was sure he would be upset. How would he react? Would he explode with rage? Would he get angry and cast me into the sea, the same way he had killed the salesman?
    But the youth did not get angry, and was not even dismayed. Instead, a rather placid smile played on his weather-beaten face.
    â€œLet me tell you something too, Doctor.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œYou never went to the shrine, did you? If you had, you would probably already know.”
    â€œWhat the hell are you talking about?”
    â€œOtaki is the shrine attendant in the service of the god. She knew you were sick. Of course, that means the god also knew it.”
    I was aghast. So they had known about it all along! “If that’s the case, then why wasn’t I punished? Why did you kill the salesman, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong?”
    â€œThe god considers the interests of the island,” repeated the youth, as he continued to pull slowly on the oars. “As a doctor, you were necessary to us. The god was well aware of that. But somebody had to be punished. That’s the rule, and also it’s the right thing to do. If we didn’t abide by the rules, then we would not be able to maintain order on the island. Every time that salesman came to the island, he passed off bogus goods on us. So it was inevitable that he should be punished.”
    â€œSo do you think it was the right thing to do?”
    â€œThe oracle was right. As proof of that, you stayed on the island for two more years, Doctor. All that time, we islanders didn’t have to worry about getting sick. It was all the god’s will.” The youth’s smile never faltered, his face was full of confidence.
    I felt defeated.
    As I was climbing aboard the K Maru , I lost my balance and fell awkwardly on the ramp, narrowly avoiding a tumble into the sea.
    The young fisherman let out a bright peal of laughter that was somehow tinged with cruelty.

A Summer Reverie
    S ummer was coming to a close.
    The sunlight reflecting off the sand was still strong, but the high waves of the dog days were beginning to show. Beyond the horizon, as yet invisible, the wild storms of the typhoon season were steadily approaching.
    The beach had emptied of people, and most of the rabble of beach shack bars and cafes had been pulled down, leaving just the remains of the wooden posts on which they had rested. Even the din of city kids partying late into the night at their impromptu camp on the headland at the end of the sandy bay had fallen silent in the past few days. An occasional sports car still turned up, brimming with youngsters who raced around the beach and danced wildly with the car radio blaring at top volume, but they lacked the raw energy of midsummer and looked strangely plaintive. They themselves seemed aware of this and soon hurried away looking bewildered, back to their regular haunts in the city.
    The seaside season here on the west coast of Izu was over. At least it was over for the city youth.
    But I was still here. I was seventeen.
    Mother had been lying under the parasol reading a book for some time now. Mother—no, I hated calling her mother. She was just “she.” She was young—and beautiful. I found her youth and beauty disconcerting.
    When my late father first presented her to me and announced they were getting married, I scowled and refused to talk to him for the rest of the day. He thought I was sulking because I was against him remarrying, but it was just that I felt confounded by her beauty. Even after