Grotesque

by Natsuo Kirino

My talent was the uncompromising ability to feel spite. And whereas my talent far exceeded those of others, it was a talent that impressed no one but myself. I fawned over my talent. I polished it diligently every day.

Tokyo University! Having just learned to crawl on land, she was already aiming to climb a mountain!

Everyone was out for personal gratification. For Masami, without a child of her own, I was a pet. For Johnson I was a toy. That was all there was to my existence. I was born to be used.

I belong to the ice-skating club. I’m still too wet behind the ears to compete. (Or wet behind the toes, as the case may be.)

A woman who does not know herself has no choice other than to live with other people’s evaluations. But no one can adapt perfectly to public opinion. And herein lies the source of their destruction.

I can only come up with one suggestion: Perhaps Yuriko and Kazue and Mitsuru and even Takashi and Zhang are all part of me—whoever “I” am. Perhaps I exist in order to remain behind as their spirits—floating, recounting their tales. If that’s the case, I am sure there are some among you who will observe that mine is a black spirit. And you would be right.