The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

She had given me a little silver chain and medal
inscribed with her monogram, “N.” It would not do for
school or home wear, but I wore it around my neck
when I met Momoko. I knew from the bandage
incident that it was not easy to attract Momoko’s
attention. Despite the cold, I wore an open shirt and a
V-neck sweater, and made sure that my shoe was
badly tied. The medal was sure to fall out and catch
the sun when I retied it.
It was a considerable disappointment that though I
tied my shoe three times Momoko did not notice the
medal. The inattentiveness came from complete
confidence in her own well-being. I could not, for my
own part, make too obvious a show.
In desperation I took Momoko swimming at the
heated pool of a large Nakano sports center. She
was delighted at this little reminder of our happy
summer days in Shimoda.
“You’re a man, aren’t you?”
“I believe so.”
This classical exchange between man and woman
was taking place here and there beside the pool,
where one of those Harunobu scenes, men and
women indistinguishable, was being posed in the
nude. There were long-haired men indistinguishable
from women. I have the confidence to fly symbolically