The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

But he was all red and looking at the floor, and I’m too
good-natured. I couldn’t tell them what had happened.
It wasn’t any duty of mine to cover up for him, but I
said I thought there must be a nail, people should be
careful about this seat. Everyone said it was very
dangerous and looked very bothered and stared at
the cushion. It was a green one. Someone said I
should turn in a complaint, but I said it didn’t matter, I
was getting off at the next stop. And I did get off. My
seat was still empty when the bus pulled away again.
Nobody wanted to risk it. All I saw was black hair
shining under the visor cap. That’s my story. I can
congratulate myself on not having harmed anyone. I
was the only injured party, and I’m glad. That’s the fate
of a beautiful person. Just accept all the ugliness in
the world and hide the wound and die without letting
out the secret. That’s enough. Don’t you suppose a
beautiful, well-shaped girl has the best chance of
getting to be an angel? I’m telling you, no one else.
You can keep a secret.
“Yes, it’s true. Only a beautiful woman can really
know, and she sees it in the eyes of a man, the
ugliness of the world, the way the real shape of a
human being gets lost.” Each time Kinué used the
word “beautiful” it was as if she were mustering up all
the saliva she had in her and spitting it out. “It’s a