Sin and punishment.
Dostoevskii. I thought, as the thought passed through the corner of my mind. What if that Mr.

Dost did not think of sin and punishment as synonyms, but as antonyms? 　Sin and Punishment, absolutely incompatible, icons incompatible. When the runaround in my brain was spinning with …… oh, I almost understood, no, not yet, …… and so on, in the depths of Mr. Dost’s bluish, rotten pond, orgy of thinking of sin and punishment as antonyms. 　Hey! 　Hey, it’s a fava bean. Come here! 　Horiki’s voice and complexion changed. Horiki had just woken up and walked away, only to turn around and come back again. 　What is it? 　The two of them, in a strange frenzy, went downstairs from the rooftop, and halfway down the stairs to their room on the second floor, Horiki stopped and said, “Look! 　Look! 　he said in a whisper and pointed. 　The small window above his room is open, through which he can see into his room. The light was still on and there were two animals. 　I stood on the stairs, dizzy and giddy, muttering in my chest, “This is another human figure, this is another human figure, there is nothing to be afraid of,” and breathing heavily, forgetting to help Yoshiko.

I stood on the stairs, dizzy and giddy, muttering in my chest, “This is another human figure, this is another human figure, there is nothing to be afraid of,” and breathing heavily, forgetting to help Yoshiko. 　Horiki coughed loudly. As if to escape, I ran up to the roof again, lay down, and looked up at the rain-filled summer night sky. It was not the fear of a cemetery ghost, but an ancient and wild fear, the kind you might feel when you encounter a white-robed deity in a cedar grove at a shrine. I began to lose confidence in everything, to doubt others without bottoming out, and to be forever removed from all expectations, joys, and resonances with the life of the world. In fact, this was a defining event in my life. I had been split right between the eyes, and from then on, that wound hurt every time I approached any human being. 　I sympathize with you, but now you know a little better. I’m never coming back here again. It’s like hell. You can go to ……, but you should let Yoshi off the hook. You’re not a good guy either. I beg your pardon. 　Horiki was not dumb enough to stay in this awkward place for long.

Horiki was not dumb enough to stay in this awkward place for long. I got up, drank shochu by myself, and then cried aloud. I could cry as much or as little as I wanted. 　Before I knew it, Yoshiko was standing vaguely behind me, holding a plate full of fava beans. 　She said, “I won’t do anything, …… 　Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything. You didn’t know how to question people. Sit down. Let’s eat beans. 　We sat side by side and ate the beans. Aha, trust is a sin, isn’t it? 　The other man was an uneducated little merchant of about 30 years of age, who would make himself a comic book and leave the little money he had behind in a wasteful gesture. 　As expected, the merchant did not come back, but for some reason, I felt more hatred and anger toward Horiki, who had returned to the rooftop to inform me, without coughing or doing anything, just as soon as he found me at the first time. I was so angry that I moaned and groaned. There was no forgiveness, no forgiveness.

There was no forgiveness, no forgiveness. Yoshiko is a genius of trust. She did not know how to doubt others. But that is why he was so miserable. 　She asked God, “Is trust a sin? Is trust a sin? 　More than the fact that Yoshiko was defiled, the fact that her trust was defiled became a source of such anguish for me that I would not live long afterwards. For someone like myself, who was so frightened, who only looked at other people’s faces, and whose ability to trust others had cracked, Yoshiko’s innocent trust was as refreshing as a waterfall of green leaves. Behold, Yoshiko began to care about even her own every frown from that night on. 　Hey! 　She would twitch when I called out, “Hey! No matter how much I tried to make him laugh, or how much I clowned around with him, he became frightened, and even began to use honorific expressions to himself. 　What a fountain of sin this innocent trusting heart had become! 　I searched for and read many books about the rape of married women, but none of them were as tragic as Yoshiko’s.

What a fountain of sin this innocent trusting heart had become! 　I searched for and read many books about the rape of married women, but none of them were as tragic as Yoshiko’s. However, I could not find a single woman who had been raped in such a gruesome manner as Yoshiko. This is not even a story at all. If there had been even a hint of love between the little merchant and Yoshiko, it might have saved my feelings, but Yoshiko trusted him for one summer night and never saw him again. Yushiko had to be on her guard for the rest of her life. Most of the stories are about whether or not the husband forgives his wife’s actions. 　I was not so sure that it was such a big problem for me. If he felt that he could not forgive his wife, he should not make such a big deal about it, but should just divorce her and get a new wife. 　In any case, I felt that everything would be resolved according to the husband’s feelings. In other words, even though such an incident was a great shock to my husband, it was not a shock at all. 　It seemed to me that it was a shock, and unlike the endless waves that kept coming back and forth, it was a problem that could be dealt with by the anger of the husband, who had the right to do so.

It seemed to me that it was a shock, and unlike the endless waves that kept coming back and forth, it was a problem that could be dealt with by the anger of the husband, who had the right to do so. However, in their case, the husband had no rights, and when they thought about it, they felt as if everything was their fault, so instead of getting angry, they could not say a single word. Moreover, the wife was raped because of a rare quality she possessed, an irresistibly lovely quality that her husband had longed for: a heart of innocent trust. 　Innocent trustworthiness is a sin. Even the only thing she had in common with her husband was her trustworthiness, and she was so suspicious of this beauty that she was at a loss as to why she was doing it. The expression on my face became extremely ugly, I drank shochu in the morning, my teeth were chipped to pieces, and I began to draw cartoons that were almost obscene. No, let me be clear. From that time on, I began to make and sell shunga (spring paintings) on the street. I wanted money to buy shochu. When I looked at Yoshiko, who always took her eyes off me and looked at me with a wary look, I wondered if it was not only once with that merchant, because she was a woman who did not know how to be on her guard. 　Or perhaps even with someone he did not know? 　I was so anxious and fearful that I just drank shochu and got drunk, and tried to ask a few questions in a slightly obsequious, guided manner, feeling foolishly happy or sad inside, and making a fool of myself, and then, after a few moments, I was able to make a fool of myself.

Or perhaps even with someone he did not know? 　I was so anxious and fearful that I just drank shochu and got drunk, and tried to ask a few questions in a slightly obsequious, guided manner, feeling foolishly happy or sad inside, and making a fool of myself, and then, after a few moments, I was able to make a fool of myself. Then, after giving Yoshiko a nasty caress from hell, I fell asleep like a mud. 　At the end of that year, I came home drunk late at night and wanted to drink sugar water, but Yoshiko seemed to be asleep, so I went to the kitchen and found a sugar jar by myself. I casually picked it up and was astonished to see a label on the box. The label had been scraped off with a fingernail more than halfway through, but the western script was still there, and it clearly read: DIAL. DIAL. I was exclusively on shochu at the time and did not use hypnotics, but insomnia was something of a chronic illness for me, so I was familiar with most hypnotics. This one box of Zeal was certainly more than a lethal dose. I hadn’t sealed the box yet, but I was sure that at some point he would have been motivated enough to hide it in a place like this and scrape off the label, etc. Poor kid, he couldn’t read the Western characters on the label, so he must have scratched off half of it with his fingernail and thought it was safe now.