The Sound of Waves Read Online Free PDF Page A

roof and looked down at the sea.
    “What’s this building?” she asked.
    Shinji too went to the parapet, but at a little distance from the girl.
    “It used to be a target-observation tower,” he answered. “They watched from here to see where the cannon shells landed.”
    Here on the south side of the island, screened by the mountain, there was no wind. The sunlit expanse of the Pacific stretched away beneath their eyes. The pine-clad cliff dropped abruptly to the sea, its jutting rocks stained white with cormorant droppings, and the water near the base of the cliff was black-brown from the seaweed growing on the ocean floor.
    Shinji pointed to a tall rock just offshore where the surging waves were striking, sending up clouds of spray.
    “That’s called Black Isle,” he explained. “It’s where Policeman Suzuki was fishing when the waves washed him away and drowned him.”
    Shinji was thoroughly happy. But the time was drawingnear when Hatsue was due at the lighthouse. Straightening up from the concrete parapet, she turned toward Shinji.
    “I’ll be going now,” she said.
    Shinji made no answer and a surprised look came over his face. He had caught sight of a black streak that ran straight across the front of her red sweater.
    Hatsue followed his gaze and saw the dirty smudge, just in the spot where she had been leaning her breast against the concrete parapet. Bending her head, she started slapping her breast with her open hands. Beneath her sweater, which all but seemed to be concealing some firm supports, two gently swelling mounds were set to trembling ever so slightly by the brisk brushing of her hands.
    Shinji stared in wonder. Struck by her hands, the breasts seemed more like two small, playful animals. The boy was deeply stirred by the resilient softness of their movement.
    The streak of dirt was finally brushed out.
    Shinji went first down the concrete steps and Hatsue followed, her clogs making very clear, light sounds which echoed from the four walls of the ruins. But the sounds behind Shinji’s back came to a stop as they were reaching the first floor.
    Shinji looked back. The girl was standing there, laughing.
    “What is it?” he asked.
    “I’m dark too, but you—you’re practically black .”
    “What?”
    “You’ve really been burnt by the sun, you have.”
    The boy laughed in meaningless reply and went ondown the stairs. They were just about to leave the tower when he stopped abruptly and ran back inside. He had almost forgotten his mother’s bundles.
    On the way back toward the lighthouse Shinji walked in front, carrying the mountain of pine needles on his back. As they walked along, the girl asked him his name and now, for the first time, he introduced himself. But he went on hurriedly to ask that she not mention his name to anyone or say anything about having met him here: Shinji well knew how sharp the villagers’ tongues could be. Hatsue promised not to tell. Thus their well-founded fear of the village’s love of gossip changed what was but an innocent meeting into a thing of secrecy between the two of them.
    Shinji walked on in silence, having no idea how they could meet again, and soon they reached the spot from which they could look down upon the lighthouse. He pointed out the short cut leading down to the rear of the lighthouse-keeper’s residence and told her good-by. Then, purposely, he took the roundabout way on down to the village.

U NTIL NOW the boy had been leading a peaceful, contented existence, poor though he was, but from this time on he became tormented with unrest and lost in thought, falling prey to the feeling that there was nothing about him that could possibly appeal to Hatsue. He was so healthy that he had never had any sickness other than the measles. He could swim the circumference of Uta-jima as many as five times without stopping. And he was sure he would have to yield to no one in any test of physical strength. But he could not believe that any of these