No Longer Human ( PDFDrive )

123
Sometimes I spent the night out. At bars I acted the
part of a ruffian, kissed women indiscriminately, did
anything as long as it was not in accord with "accepted
usage," drank as wildly—no more so—as before
my attempted suicide, was so hard pressed for
money that I used to pawn Shizuko's clothes.
A year had passed since I first came to her apartment
and smiled bitterly at the torn kite. One day,
along when the cherry trees were going to leaf, I
stole some of Shizuko's underrobes and sashes, and
took them to a pawnshop. I used the money they gave
me to go drinking on the Cinza. I spent two nights
in a row away from home. By the evening of the
third day I began to feel some compunctions about
my behavior, and I returned to Shizuko's apartment.
I unconsciously hushed my footsteps as I approached
the door, and I could hear Shizuko talking with
Shigcko.
"Why does he drink?"
"It's not because he likes liquor. It's because he's
too good, because . . ."
"Do all good people drink?"
"Not necessarily, but . . ."
"I'm sure Daddy'll be surprised."
"Maybe he won't like it. Look! It's jumped out
of the box."
"Like the funny man in the comics he draws."