The Ark Sakura Read Online Free PDF Page A

the counter, not one meter long, looked immeasurably vast. No reason to quail, I told myself; those cases held something of far more value than ten thousand stalls. The guard walked by without a flicker of expression. The edge of his glance swept over the counter in front of me. Sweat was dripping from the point of his chin, I noticed; I too poured rivers of sweat.
    What was keeping the insect dealer? This was taking too long. Did the man have kidney stones?
    A young couple stopped at the counter. The man had a crew cut, and he wore black trousers with a white, open-collared shirt. Fastened around his fat, sausagelike neck was a gold necklace. The woman’s hair was mussed, as if she’d just gone through it with her fingers; she had on purplish lipstick and a T-shirt printed with a loud Hawaiian beach scene. They had come to the wrong place. I was only putting on an act; I had nothing to sell. I started to say so, when it hit me—this was her. There could be no doubt about it: she was one of the two other people who had bought, or pretended to buy, a eupcaccia. The hair and makeup and clothes were all different, but there was no mistaking who she was. Even the insect dealer had mentioned what “class” she had, and indeed she had a striking way about her that no disguise could conceal for long.
    About the man I was less sure. Was he or was he not the same person? That long hair before could have been a wig—if she wears disguises, then so does he, I told myself—but still, something didn’t connect. Perhaps offensive people leave a more superficial impression. Unfortunately, he looked ten years younger than the one before, which made him a good match for her.
    “Where’s the bug man?” The man slid his fingers over the counter as if testing for dust. Uncertain how to respond, I stammered, “Uh, probably the men’s room.”
    “Is he closing up, or just switching merchandise?” His fingers drummed as if hitting a telegraph key. His voice was raspy and monotonous. I knew I was under no obligation to answer, yet I did.
    “Closing up. He’s given up on selling the things.”
    “Why?” Wonderingly, the girl tilted her head on its slender neck. She reached casually for a ticket. “They were such cute little bugs.”
    Had it been the man, I would have reacted differently. But the girl’s fingers were transparent, as if she had no bones. There seemed little enough chance that the ticket was in any danger.
    “Great,” said the man. “We’re here to collect some money. Can you pay us?”
    “I’m afraid business was pretty bad.”
    “Oh, no, it wasn’t.” He raised his voice, as if his professional pride had been wounded. “I saw it with my own eyes. They were selling, all right.”
    The girl nodded her head rapidly in agreement. Her look was intense. It seemed possible to interpret her reaction as a sincere defense of the eupcaccia—but that was ridiculous. She was a sakura, a shill; she couldn’t be serious. It had to be an act, I knew, and yet I couldn’t suppress a rush of affection. Rather like a cat-hater who finds a kitten purring and rubbing his legs. Without thinking, I indulged in a bit of small talk, thus inadvertently handing them a pretext to stay.
    “Don’t you remember me?” I said, burying my chin in the folds of my neck, prickly with heat rash, to emphasize my bulk. “I remember you.”
    “I remember you too,” said the girl, bringing her hands together. Her eyes sparkled. “You’re the one who bought the eupcaccia right after us, aren’t you?”
    “That’s right. That was it; that was the only one he sold.”
    “What do you mean?” said the man. “We bought one too, didn’t we? That makes at least two.”
    “You can stop pretending. I know everything.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like what you two do for a living.”
    They looked at each other and laughed nonchalantly. Consternation was apparent beneath the laughter.
    “What’s your relationship to him?” the man