The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

“I had no idea there was such a place so close to
home.”
“A cloistered maiden like you wouldn’t.”
Furusawa ordered two cups of coffee. He offered
Tōru a cigarette, upon which Tōru leaped.
“It’s not easy to keep it out of sight.”
“Mr. Honda’s much too strict. It’s not as if you were
an ordinary middle-school boy. You’ve been out in the
world. He wants to make a child of you again. But you
just have to wait till you’re twenty. You can spread your
wings once you’re in the university.”
“Exactly my own idea. But I have to keep it to
myself.”
Furusawa frowned and laughed a pitying laugh. It
seemed to Tōru that he was trying to be older than
twenty-one.
Furusawa wore glasses, but his good-natured face
was very engaging when he smiled, and wrinkles
formed around his nose. The horns were bent, and he
was forever shoving the glasses back up on his nose,
the gesture with his forefinger as if he were
reprimanding himself. He had large hands and feet,
and he was considerably taller than Tōru. He was the
gifted son of a railway worker. Hidden in him was a
spirit like a squirming red lobster.
Tōru had no urgent wish to destroy the image