However, at that time, I still did not feel ready to die.

I was not yet prepared to die. Somewhere 　There was a playfulness lurking somewhere. 　That morning, the two of us wandered around the six wards of Asakusa. They went to a coffee shop and drank some milk. 　You, put it away! 　I stood up, pulled out a purse from my pocket, opened it, and was struck by the sight of three copper coins. I realized that this was my reality and that I could not survive. 　I was so confused that the woman stood up and looked into her own cloak. 　Oh, is that all? 　Her voice was heartfelt, but it was also painful, so painful that it seared into my bones. It was painful only because it was the voice of the person I had fallen in love with for the first time. Three copper coins are not much money. It was a strange humiliation that I had never experienced before. It was a humiliation I could not live with. After all, at that time, I had not yet fully escaped from the rich boy’s genus. At that time, I made up my mind that I would die voluntarily. 　That night, we jumped into the sea in Kamakura.

That night, we jumped into the sea in Kamakura. The woman said, “This belt is a belt I borrowed from a friend in the store,” and she untied it, folded it, and placed it on a rock. 　The woman died. I was the only one who survived. 　I was a student at a high school and my father’s name had some nuance to it, so it was a big issue in the newspapers. 　A relative from my hometown came to the hospital and took care of various matters. He told me that my father and the rest of the family were furious and that I might never be reunited with my birth family again. I, however, missed Tsuneko more than anything else and wept bitterly. I really only loved that poor Tsuneko among all the people I had ever met. 　I received a long letter from my lodger’s daughter, in which she had written fifty tanka poems. 　Fifty tanka poems, all of them beginning with the strange phrase, “Live me. There was also a nurse who would come to his hospital room and play with the nurses, laughing merrily and squeezing their hands as they left. 　The hospital discovered that I had a defect in my left lung, which turned out to be very convenient for me, and I was eventually taken from the hospital to the police on the charge of assisting suicide.

The hospital discovered that I had a defect in my left lung, which turned out to be very convenient for me, and I was eventually taken from the hospital to the police on the charge of assisting suicide. 　In the middle of the night, an old policeman, who had been sleeping in the duty room next to the protection room, gently opened the door between us and said, “Hey! 　Hey! 　he called to himself, and said. 　You must be cold. Come on over here and warm yourself. 　He said, “Come here. 　I walked into the room and sat down on a chair to sit on a brazier. 　After all, you miss the dead woman, don’t you? 　Yes, I do. 　He replied in a thin voice, as if he were fading away. 　That’s what human nature is all about, isn’t it? 　He gradually became more and more composed. 　Where was the first time you had relations with a woman? 　He asked with the air of a judge. He seemed to think of himself as a child, and in the course of an autumn evening, he pretended to be the chief interrogator himself, hoping to draw out some indecent story from me. I quickly sensed this and had a hard time resisting the urge to burst out in flames. The officer’s 　I knew that I could refuse to answer any of the officer’s informal questions, but in order to add a touch of fun to the autumn evening, I kept my faith in the fact that the officer was the chief interrogator, and that the decision on the severity of the punishment depended solely on the officer’s intention.

The officer’s 　I knew that I could refuse to answer any of the officer’s informal questions, but in order to add a touch of fun to the autumn evening, I kept my faith in the fact that the officer was the chief interrogator, and that the decision on the severity of the punishment depended solely on the officer’s intention. He made a statement that was not so much a statement as it was a statement that would satisfy his curiosity. 　He made a statement that satisfied his curiosity. 　Yes, I understood most of what he said. If you answer honestly, we will make some adjustments. 　Thank you very much. 　It was almost an irigami performance. And so, it was a powerful performance that did nothing, not one thing in particular, for me. 　When night fell, I was summoned by the chief of police. This time, it was a formal interrogation. 　As soon as I opened the door and entered the chief’s office, he said, “Oh, you are a good man. 　Oh, you are a good man. It’s not your fault. It’s your mother’s fault for giving birth to such a nice man. 　He was a young, dark-colored, college-educated-looking chief.

He was a young, dark-colored, college-educated-looking chief. I suddenly felt miserable, as if I were an ugly cripple with red bruises all over half of my face. The chief, who looked like a judo or kendo athlete, conducted his interrogation with such ease that it was a far cry from the secretive and relentlessly amorous late-night interrogation of the old police officer. 　It was a far cry from the old policeman’s secretive, relentless, and amorous interrogation late at night. After the questioning was over, the chief was preparing the documents to be sent to the prosecutor’s office. 　You need to strengthen your body. You seem to be producing blood phlegm. 　I think you have blood phlegm,” he said. 　That morning, I had developed a strange cough, and every time I coughed, I covered my mouth with a handkerchief, but the handkerchief was covered with blood like a red hail. However, the blood was not from my throat, but from a small boil that had formed under my ear last night. However, I suddenly felt that it might be more convenient if I didn’t tell you that, so I just said, “Yes, sir. 　Yes.

Yes. 　I replied with a downcast look in my eyes and an auspicious look in my eyes. 　The chief finished the paperwork. 　Whether or not you will be prosecuted is for the Prosecutor to decide, but I suggest that you ask your guarantor to come to the Prosecutor’s Office in Yokohama today by telegram or telephone. There must be someone, your guardian or guarantor or something. 　I recalled that Shibuta, a 40-something stocky bachelor from our hometown who had served as my father’s personal bodyguard, had been a guest at my father’s Tokyo villa, and that he was a guarantor for my school. My father always called him “Flounder” because he had a face, especially the look in his eyes, that resembled a flatfish, and I was accustomed to calling him that. 　I borrowed the police phone book and looked up Flounder’s home phone number, and when I found it, I called Flounder and asked him to come to the Yokohama Public Prosecutor’s Office. 　Hey, you better disinfect that phone right away. After all, you’re spewing blood! 　After I was pulled back into the protection room, the loud voice of the chief telling the policemen to do so reached my ears as I sat in the protection room.

After all, you’re spewing blood! 　After I was pulled back into the protection room, the loud voice of the chief telling the policemen to do so reached my ears as I sat in the protection room. 　Shortly after noon, I was bound with a thin rope, which I was allowed to cover with a cloak, but a young policeman held the end of the rope firmly, and together we took the train to Yokohama. I was not the least bit anxious, and I remembered that police protection room and the old policeman. I am not sure if it is a good time to write about it. 　However, among my fond memories of that time, there was only one tragic failure that I will never forget, which caused me to break out in a cold sweat. I was briefly interrogated by the Public Prosecutor in a dimly lit room in the Prosecutor’s Office. The prosecutor was a quiet man of about 40 years of age (if I had good looks, they would have been what is called “good looks,” but his face had an air of intelligent serenity, as if he had the right kind of good looks). Suddenly, I pulled out a handkerchief from my pocket and looked at the blood. I glanced at the prosecutor’s face with my mouth covered with a handkerchief, just in time. 　Really? 　It was a quiet smile.

Really? 　It was a quiet smile. I broke out in a cold sweat. No, even now, when I remember it, I want to do a little dance. It would not be an exaggeration to say that it was more than the feeling I had when I was kicked down to hell in junior high school by that idiot Takeichi, who poked me in the spine, saying “Waza, waza”. This, that, and the other two are the records of my acting failures in my lifetime.