el.angeleyes-第69部分

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pping　her　heart　were　so　disturbing　that　she　had　to　conjure　even　more　disturbing　thoughts　to　try　to　block　them　out。　Wasn't　it　that　moment；　seeing　Greg's　changed　face；　when　Tori's　feet　were　set　upon　her　path；　that　she　knew　she　would　not　be　satisfied　until　she　stared　death　in　the　face？
　Tori　thought　she　wanted　to　explore　this　horrific　idea　further；　but　the　essence　of　Russell　kept　insinuating　itself　into　her　consciousness…that　new　side　of　him　she　had　glimpsed　in　the　corrida　when　he　had　been　near　death；　when；　later；　she　had　been　so　vulnerable；　such　an　easy　target　for　him；　and　instead　of　making　the　most　of　his　advantage；　he　had　gathered　her　into　his　arms。
　Tori　in　Tokyo　now；　recalling　Tokyo　then；　ten　years　ago；　when　she　was　ever　so　young；　ever　so　smart；　ever　so　vulnerable。　She　had　walked　a　different　road　then。　She　had　been　cocky；　so　sure　of　herself；　of　her　abilities。　The　thought　of　defeat　was　merely　a　dream；　the　contemplation　of　her　own　death　inconceivable。
　Greg　had　flown　in；　one　of　the　few　occasions　he　had　had　the　time　to　visit　her　in　Japan。　It　was　odd；　their　worlds　were　so　different；　and　yet　so　alike。　They　both　trained　vigorously；　both　had　a　kind　of　monodirectional　bent　that　allowed　them　to　concentrate　on　the　flood　of　information　they　had　to　learn；　then　translate　it　into　action。　They　were　masters　of　both　the　cerebral　and　the　physical；　learning　what　a　valuable　modity　the　bination　could　be。
　Though　they　were　in　touch　infrequently；　and　saw　each　other　even　less；　they　still　remained　close。　Perhaps　it　was　their　parents　that　made　them　so；　an　unspoken　mutual　need　to　band　together　against　the　enormous　pressures　at　home　in　Diana's　Garden。
　In　Tokyo　they　had　gone　out　drinking。　It　was　a　recreation　neither　had　the　time　nor　the　inclination　to　pursue　on　a　regular　basis。　Their　lives　were　so　disciplined；　so　regularized；　so　military；　that　the　chance　to　kick　back　and　break　loose　was　irresistible。　It　was　also　Tori's　firm　belief…a　very　Japanese　concept…that　real　truths；　the　full　heart；　not　the　empty　symbol；　could　only　be　expressed　while　drunk。　Everything　could　be　forgiven　then；　there　was　no　loss　of　face；　no　shame　at　being　sentimental　or　showing　weakness。
　They　had　gone　from　bar　to　bar　and；　as　the　night　wore　on；　found　themselves　in　darker　and　meaner　sections　of　the　city。　They　were　not　unaware　of　this；　rather；　they　weled　the　proximity　of　danger。　There　was　about　the　entire　night　a　sense　of　machismo　that　Ton　was　unable　to　understand　until　she　looked　back　from　the　perspective　time　gave　her。　At　first　she　had　believed　that　Greg；　NASA　pilot；　astronaut　in　training；　had　been　responsible　for　that　febrile　aggressiveness。　But　then　she　realized　that　much　of　the　machismo　had　stemmed　from　her；　and　Greg　was　following　her　lead。　That　had　been　a　switch。
　She　had　followed　Greg　in　everything：　sports；　mathematics；　school；　teams；　the　works。　That　had　been　their　father's　doing。　Ellis　Nunn　had　wanted　to　ensure　that　she　was　prepared　for　the　hard；　petitive　world　she　would　one　day　be　thrown　into。　If　you　can　pete　with　your　brother；　you　'II　be　ready　for　anyone；　he　had　told　her。　Don't　plain　and　don't　try　to　weasel　out。　I'm　doing　you　the　favor　my　father　never　did　for　me。
　But；　of　course；　she　was　doomed　to　failure　at　every　turn。　Greg　was　the　golden　boy；　superb　in　sports；　mathematics；　excelling　in　each　school　he　attended。　Not　that　she　didn't　do　her　best　to　excel…and　succeeded　most　of　the　time。　She　just　could　not　match　Greg's　level。　He　seemed　to　revel　in　the　milieu　Ellis　Nunn　threw　him　into；　she　despised　it。
　So；　in　the　end；　she　ran　away；　all　the　way　across　the　Pacific　to　Japan；　as　if　she　needed　to　get　as　much　distance　as　she　could　between　herself　and　the　life　she　had　been　forced　to　live。　But　her　flight　was　more　than　away　from　pain；　it　was　toward　a　lifestyle　that　in　its　enigma　drew　her　steadily　on。　Like　Odysseus　on　his　arduous　quest；　Tori　could　hardly　have　done　anything　different。　She　was　made　for　Japan　and　it　was　made　for　her。
　For　one　thing；　the　stringent　asceticism　at　the　martial　arts　school　she　joined　was　such　a　wele　relief　from　the　opulence　and　endless　money；　her　parents'　insatiable　appetite　for　acquisitions；　that　she　nearly　wept　for　joy　the　first　week　at　the　school。　Alone；　lying　on　her　simple　futon　bed　after　a　full　day's　mental　and　physical　work；　staring　up　through　the　garden　at　the　moon　and　the　stars；　Tori　had　at　last　known　a　peace　she　had　once　thought　could　never　be　hers。
　For　another　thing；　there　was　sensei；　a　small；　quick…gestured　man；　who　nevertheless　moved　with　a　deliberation　so　profound；　it　actually　seemed　to　be　the　opposite。　His　stratagems　appeared　to　be　inadvertent；　haphazard；　wholly　unexpected。
　〃This　is　more　difficult　to　achieve　than　you　as　a　Westerner　could　possibly　imagine；〃　he　had　told　her　when　she　had　reached　the　fourth　of　his　six　levels　of　training。　〃This　is　not　a　racist　remark；　merely　the　truth。　You　see；　we　Japanese　abhor　randomness。　Nature　in　its　pure；　unadulterated　state　frightens　us；　which　is　why　we　have　created　deities　such　as　the　fox　goddess　to　reinforce　that　fright。〃
　〃But　sensei；　look　out　there；〃　Tori　had　said；　pointing　to　the　exquisite　garden。　〃You　are　always　surrounded　by　nature。　I　don't　understand。〃
　Sensei　had　smiled。　〃I　urge　you　to　look　again　at　the　garden　on　which　I　lavish　so　much　attention。　Is　it　nature？　When　we　wander　the　lush　hillsides　of　Yoshino；　that　is　nature；　when　we　climb　the　alps　to　the　north；　that　is　nature。　But　this　garden？　No。　It　is　a　product　of　my　imagination。　Everything　is　made；　dwarfed；　bonsaied；　controlled　by　me　or　by　one　of　my　students。　This　garden　is　what　I　want　it　to　be；　nothing　more；　certainly　not　nature。　Not　yet。
　〃The　perfect　garden；　Tori…san；　is　a　simulacrum　of　nature；　it　merges　with　nature　to　bee　one　with　it。　But　there　is　no　such　thing　as　a　perfect　garden；　and　there　never　will　be。　The　result；　though　we　work　all　our　lives　toward　it；　is　too　frightening　a　prospect；　because　if　it　ever　came　about；　we　would；　by　definition；　lose　our　control　over　it；　and　that　can　never　be　allowed。〃
　Facades　and　a　sense　of　control；　these　were　the　principles　of　Japanese　gardens；　microcosms　of　the　Japanese　culture　itself。　And　these　were　what　Tori　thought　of　the　night　she　went　carousing　the　wild　side　of　Tokyo　with　Greg。　Because　she　was；　at　last；　tired　of　both。
　Sake　was　a　good　antidote　to　regimentation。　Something　quite　strong　was　needed　to　blur　the　lines；　the　grids；　the　bars　of　the　life　of　an　acolyte。　Because　that　was　just　what　she　and　Greg　were；　acolytes：　she　had　joined　the　samurai　religion　of　the　past；　he　the　scientific　religion　of　the　future。　The　two　of　them　met　here　at　this　moment　in　time；　amid　the　neon　burning　of　a　Tokyo　night；　in　the　primitive　jungle　within　the　world's　most　civilized　city；　bound　in　the　present　they　were　creating。
　Or　so　Tori　had　thought；　until　they　hit　a　place　called　The　Lemon　Crush。　It　was　at　the　wrong　end　of　Shinjuku；　a　kind　of　akachochin；　an　after…hours　joint；　posh　and　potent；　where　the　price　tags　were　hot　and　the　action　even　hotter。
　They　were；　by　this　time；　two　liters　into　sake；　and　Tori　felt　as　if　an　electric　wire　had　been　slipped　into　her　veins。　Greg's　eyes　crossed　at　intervals；　and　he　couldn't　keep　the　sweat　from　glistening　in　his　short；　blond　hair。
　〃Wow！〃　he　had　exclaimed；　when　they　had　taken　the　Lucite　elevator　down　to　the　main　floor　of　The　Lemon　Crush。　〃I　don't　ever　want　to　leave　this　place！〃　Greg　had　always　been　prone　to　theatrical　overstatement；　a　trait　he　had　unconsciously　picked　up　from　their　mother。
　　　They　had　been　given　a　table　on　the　upper　level　that　circled　the　main　floor。　Blue　and　yellow　neon　rimmed　everything：　floor；　tables；　steps；　railings；　and　on　the　gigantic　screen　of　the　ceiling；　projected　origami　were　continually　unfolding　like　exotic　flowers　in　yet　another　display　of　the　Japanese　trying　to　control　nature；
　Tori　and　Greg　were　on　their　second　round　of　sake；　soaking　up　the　sights；　the　sounds　of　Heaven　17　singing　〃Fascist　Groove　Thang〃　at　teeth…rattling　volume；　when　Tori　sensed　Greg's　attention　wandering。　She　followed　his　gaze；　saw　him　staring　fixedly　at　a　beautiful　young　woman；　tall；　lissome；　exotic　as　the　origami　unfolding　overhead。
　〃Hubba；　hubba！〃　Greg　said；　and　slipped　out　of　his　chair　before　Tori　could　do　anything　to　stop　him。　This　was　Japan；　but　Greg　had　no　concepti