It was a very clear morning. He went down the hill and looked at the trolley tracks stretching away in twin, freshly gleaming rails through the silent street. Most of the stores were still closed.
Ten million yen, the young man thought, as he crossed the broad street. But watch out! You get hit by a car now and you’ll spoil it all.
A flower shop had just opened its doors. The array of plants and blooms leaned forward with a damp, depressed air.
Ten million yen—you can buy a lot of flowers with that, the young man thought.
A nameless freedom hung heavily in his chest, heavier than the long night’s gloom. Uneasiness made his steps clumsy as he hurried along—an uneasiness brought on by his staying up all night, one might say. The Government Line Station came into view; he could see the early working people gathering toward the ticket gate. In front of the station two or three bootblacks had already lined up.
First, get your shoes shined … Yuichi thought.
– Yukio Mishima
