oil painting. One day, when we still barely knew each other by sight—we hadn't as yet exchanged a word—he suddenly said to me, "Can you lend me five yen?" I was so taken aback that I ended up by giving him the money. "That's fine!" he said. "Now for some liquor! You're my guest!" I couldn't very well refuse, and I was dragged off to a café near the school. This marked the beginning of our friendship. "I've been noticing you for quite a while. There! That bashful smile —that's the special mark of the promising artist. Now, as a pledge of our friendship—bottoms up!" He called one of the waitresses to our table. "Isn't he a handsome boy? You mustn't fall for him, now. I'm sorry to say it, but ever since he appeared in our art class, I've only been the second handsomest." Horiki was swarthy, but his features were regular and, most unusual for an art student, he always wore a neat suit and a conservative necktie. His hair was pomaded and parted in the middle. The surroundings were unfamiliar to me. I kept folding and unfolding my arms nervously, and my smiles now were really bashful. In the course of drinking two or three glasses of beer, however, I began to feel a strange lightness of liberation. I started, "I've been thinking I'd like to enter a real art school ..." "Don't be silly. They're useless. Schools are all useless. The teachers who immerse themselves in Nature! The teachers who show profound sympathy for Nature!" I felt not the least respect for his Opinions. I was thinking, "lie's a fool and his paintings are rubbish, but he might be a good person for me to go out with," For the first time in my life I had met a genuine city
