Pathway to Japanese Literature

Plan

“From what came from Mr. Ohkawa yesterday, please send the usual amount.”
Kouichi said carelessly to the woman.
Leaning her cheek on her hand against the tatami, Suzuko—engrossed in reading a mimeographed pamphlet—raised her face and looked toward the man.
When addressed, the meaning of the words proved difficult to grasp immediately.

“To Shizuoka.”
The man repeated.
Before the man’s second utterance could fully form, the woman had already comprehended what he was going to say.
She had meant to say “Is that so?” but the man’s words had come several seconds faster, making it feel as though he had overlaid her own unspoken response—as if he were pressing down upon what she had been about to say.
That alone made the man’s words resound harshly in the woman’s ears.
A wave of unpleasantness surged to her heart and mind all at once.

“Ah, that was one of my duties, wasn’t it.”
“I was ordered by you.”
The woman straightened her posture and turned to face the man directly.

“And cruel…” The woman began, smiling faintly.
A flush rose to her cheeks, and dark shadows drifted in her eyes after she smiled.

“What do you mean?”
Kouichi set aside his writing brush and interrupted the woman’s words.

“Sending money to Shizuoka was one of my duties, wasn’t it.
To send an allowance to your former wife Ms. Sayoko.”

“Are you calling that a cruel act?”

“Isn’t that the case?”

“This is unexpected.
I never forced you, did I?”

“Yes. But the result remains the same.”

Kouichi watched as the woman’s emotions grew increasingly heightened.
He thought that the more he spoke, the more her agitation would intensify, so he said nothing and merely watched her.
The woman was already crying.

The relationship between Kouichi and Sayoko had been severed two years prior.
Hobbies, emotions, ideals—and then Kouichi's principles—were all utterly divorced from Sayoko.

Particularly, external interference had murdered even the nine years of affection they had cultivated.
Sayoko had taken refuge at her sister’s house in Shizuoka, while Kouichi bore the obligation to send her living expenses.
Sending money orders by mail each month had been one of Suzuko’s duties.
When Kouichi entrusted all household management to Suzuko, she willingly took on this responsibility.
For nearly a year since then, this minor task had been smoothly executed, but today it filled Suzuko with unbearable revulsion.

After some time, Suzuko stopped crying.
But her irritated nerves would not calm down.

"Why do you have an obligation to the woman you divorced?"
Suzuko said with a trembling voice.

“What’s the use in saying such things?”

“I...
“I’ve had doubts about this for a long time.”
“You and Ms. Sayoko should have become strangers.”
“And yet….”

“What’s the use in saying that? It’s about a woman’s livelihood.”
“There’s simply no other way to handle it.”

"But isn't providing aid without reason absurd for the one giving it?"

"To say there's no reason—one can't claim there's absolutely none."
A look of annoyance was clearly visible on Kouichi's brow.
The woman paid no mind to such things.

"'Because she was your former wife'—that must be the reason."
"But now—'complete strangers'—that's how it should be, right?"

"Isn't that as it should be?"

"You know, that's how it should be.
Now you're strangers.
Between you and that stranger Ms. Sayoko, there should be no remaining chains whatsoever.
Whether in the legal framework of the family registry or the spiritual realm of love.
But only the economic relationship called living expenses continues to be maintained, doesn't it.
As for me—if you were to grow tired of me—then I too—I would still—I too...."
The woman pressed back her welling tears,

“My mere presence beside you—allowing me to sustain my life—it’s nothing, absolutely nothing at all.”

The woman grew increasingly reckless and collapsed into tears.

Kouichi’s face also turned serious.
Though it was clear that no amount of logical argument would have any effect in such a situation, he still could not remain silent.

“Talking about love this way and that between you and me—that’s mistaken.”
“What have I done to you?”
“When have I ever betrayed you?”
“Sayoko is a woman I lived with for many years and caused much hardship, but even so, I abandoned her.”
“The fact that we’ve ended up separated like this is probably not Sayoko’s true intention.”
“Even so, I shook hands with you.”
“You… that Comrade Kaburugi.”
“You were the wife of my friend, my comrade Kaburugi.”
“Because I loved you—you must be well aware of how much sacrifice I made.”
“At that time, Comrade Kaburugi had been sent to the ×× prison....”
The man’s voice was hoarse yet fervent.

“You claimed you severed ties with Kaburugi with his consent, but what do you suppose lay in Kaburugi’s heart?”
“I couldn’t comprehend it.”
“You once dispatched correspondence to Kaburugi bearing both our names.”
“Compared to Kaburugi’s confinement, my constricted freedom still spanned vaster realms—he couldn’t even scribble a letter without constraint.”
“When that postcard came—‘Thou plunderer!’ scrawled in watery ink—I felt as though clutching white-hot metal.”
“The thought that I’d betrayed friends and bartered comrades left me sleepless through endless days and nights.”
“Yet have I not kept faith with you?”
“Then began my destitution—comrades curling lips in unison, shredding my name to tatters.”
“They branded me ‘×× purchased by ××’—ultimate degradation.”
“Impoverished, I sold books, blades, Grandmother’s antique coins—even Mother’s house.”
“Still—have I not remained true?”

Kouichi wiped away his falling tears and continued speaking.

“Since absolute freedom is our creed, of course love must also be free.”
“If your affections were to shift elsewhere, that too would be your freedom, and I won’t say a word.”
“If the word 'wife' carries a connotation of subservience, then you are not my wife.”
“As for you—as an independent woman—I shall respect your individuality.”
“In fact, I believe I have continued to respect it up to this very day.”
“Both you and I are exhausted from fighting.”
“And both of us are burdened with serious illnesses.”
“When I called you a homebound person, it wasn't to force subservience upon you—it was meant as advice for you to rest.”
“The issue with Sayoko—isn’t such a thing ultimately inconsequential for you and me?”
“Rather than that, we must live.”
“We must not fail to nurture a sound, vigorous life.”
Having declared this, Kouichi gently softened his words.

“Oh, this should be enough now.
“It wouldn’t do for your nerves to get worked up again.”

Suzuko listened to the man’s every word without missing a single one.
When his speech had reached about the middle, she tried to say “Please stop,” but the words wouldn’t come out.
When the man finally said, “That should be enough,” she found herself overcome with inexplicable sadness.

Because he devoted himself to an ideology rejected by society, Kouichi was stripped of all freedoms granted by the Constitution.
After ten years of struggle, he gained nothing.
He had to consider that his fear—that with the nation’s foundations shaken, the catastrophic whirlpool of revolution might surge at any moment—had likely been nothing more than groundless anxiety.
While their hearts seethed with discontent and resentment, he had to confront anew the bitter realization that those ordinary souls who turned away without uttering a word were in fact the fortunate ones.
People today do not understand the true significance of compromise.
Yet expedient compromises are frequently made not only in politics and economics but also in academia, allowing society to continue flowing onward without any major upheavals.
Whether one acts from the thorough viewpoint that yielding is the proper path or from the self-interested position that yielding benefits oneself—though their meanings differ—the results often arrive at the same end.
And society's organization advances while building a relatively firm foundation.
He had no choice but to lend an ear even to such mundane arguments.
The act of firing arrow after arrow—blunt-tipped and futile—against a great iron wall built layer upon layer, of letting frustration gnaw at one's spirit simply because these arrows could not pierce through, had now proved utterly meaningless.

The few remaining people, beginning with his close friend Ohkawa, worried about Kouichi’s future and feared that if left as he was, he would surely meet an untimely end, thus expressing concern for his prospects.
Therefore, with honesty and zeal, they urged Kouichi to transform his life and took care that a certain degree of freedom would be granted to him through some method.
His comrades persistently urged him to seclude himself, insisting he must not remain in Tokyo.
They advised him to escape from the stimuli of complications and resistance and go to a hot spring town.
These inexorable kindnesses brought solace to Kouichi's desolate heart.

In early March, he fled Tokyo and came to this place.

Though a hot spring resort nestled in the mountains, it drew bathers from Tokyo to Nagoya, its inns' roofs towering high along the mountainside.
In a corner of Seikouen—a hilltop pleasure garden built for bathers—there was a small vacant house, and Kouichi rented it and moved in.

May had come.
Days continued with the sun's heat casting white light on the southern edge.
The young leaves produced a fragrant breeze.
The fields were spread with green wheat and yellow rapeseed flowers.
Inhaling the clear mountain air, bathing in abundant hot springs, and renewing his writing tools, Kouichi completely settled down.
A peaceful, leisurely life seemed about to take form.
A luster emerged in his earth-colored cheeks, and a dignified resonance came to permeate his hoarse voice.
If they could live like this for a year or two—and if Suzuko would adjust just a bit more to his current state of mind—he might truly become a scholar.
Each time he thought this, Kouichi admonished Suzuko:
"Can't you be more composed?"
Yet Suzuko's warped emotions did not easily right themselves.

Many communications from comrades arrived addressed to this hideaway. Suzuko opened all the mail herself regardless of who it was addressed to. For Kouichi’s part, she limited herself to reading them aloud. She usually wrote the replies herself. This was partly because Kouichi was busy with his writing, but Suzuko also wanted to hear from people in society as much as possible. Among them were extremely simple letters addressed to Suzuko from two or three people that seemed to stir the fervor within her heart. At times she even went so far as to hide them from Kouichi. Kouichi had some inkling of what this significant news might be.

The woman's cheeks gradually showed signs of wasting away. From morning onward she would sink into silent gloom, sometimes not speaking for half a day at a stretch. Precisely during these periods, her whole demeanor grew restless and agitated. At night she would sigh as though her chest were constricted, tossing fitfully in bed, never seeming to find easy sleep. Such nights continued endlessly, one after another.

One evening, exhausted from his daytime labors, Kouichi fell fast asleep early in the night.
Then he awoke in the middle of the night.
It was now the dead of night.
He quietly raised his head and peered at the woman.
Her faint breathing rose and fell peacefully.

"She sleeps soundly tonight," he thought.
Striking a match by his pillow, Kouichi held the flame near her face.
The woman's sleeping form appeared brightly illuminated before his eyes.
Her tightly closed lips bore an uneasy expression.
Her face suggested she might have fallen asleep while crying.
When the match died out plunging the room back into darkness, her sleeping visage remained vividly imprinted behind his eyelids.
Kouichi sat up and lit the lamp.
A notebook lay splayed open beside her head.
He reached out and took it.

"Sacrifice is not the highest morality.
But sacrifice is the most beautiful act."

The woman had written this at the beginning.

"Death is the disintegration of man.
Destruction is the disintegration of society.
Let us declare that death itself is no one's sin.
In the same way, destruction itself is also absolutely not a sin.
Death is said to be unavoidable for people because it comes naturally.
If that is so, then when destruction comes naturally, it too should be called an unavoidable fate.
Destruction comes naturally.
It comes naturally.
The act of humans who plan destruction is none other than a force of nature.
Am I not part of the force of nature?"

Such things were written down in an extremely fragmentary manner.
Particularly the final passage struck Kouichi's chest.

"Our baby has been laid to rest well.
In a place unknown to anyone, untouched by sunlight, unblown by wind, beyond even the sight of those crows—it’s said that when one wept there, the sound of weeping rang loud."

Kouichi extinguished the light and lay down on the bed.
The woman was still planning that shudder-inducing plan.
He had thought to train the woman to live with pliant emotions by granting her peace of mind, and had striven in various ways these three months, but it seemed to have had scarcely any effect.
The woman still could not escape from feelings of terror, despair, and defiance.
Thinking this way, Kouichi could no longer avoid considering his past sins.

I had not intended to propagate such violent xxx-ism. The reform I advocated was meant to show the course of change that would occur naturally through the power of training and education. The power I cursed was of course not that held by current politics. It referred to power itself as the obstruction to ideals. When considering freedom's absoluteness, this was why all constraints must be disregarded. Many had conflated these concepts. Without articulating ideals, he looked at reality. He saw current politics depriving people of freedom. Had it been only self-styled comrades holding such mistaken views, that might have been tolerable—but most politicians too had erred in their observations. Toward those who became society's stepchildren through misguided beliefs, misguided policies were implemented. Persecution complexes assailed these stepchildren ceaselessly. Among them was Suzuko. He himself had been assailed too. Unconsciously, I too had grown extreme in word and deed. Momentum governed all things. "I cannot remain like this." "The path forward requires staking everything on death." This atmosphere enveloped Suzuko completely. One night she whispered something to herself. At that time, I myself was so filled with self-restraint that I couldn't intervene.

He thought Suzuko had interpreted his ambiguous attitude at that time as agreement. That too was only natural. Because in reality, he himself had displayed an attitude that implicitly encouraged it. Moreover, he had given the same kind of response to both Misaka and Tada. The three of them seemed to have formed a common will without realizing when. He had understood that too, but he had said nothing.

It was all me. The instigator of this shudder-inducing calamity is none other than myself. I must bear that responsibility. Should I throw myself into the vortex? Or should I step back and sever the force of the cause? I must choose one of these two.

Forming a gentle upward slope, the mountain extended southward.
Not a single tree grew on the slope.
Kouichi and Suzuko ascended a narrow path through blue-green grass, uniform in height as if trimmed with shears.
At the spot where the path reached the summit stood a single pine tree.
When they reached the base of that tree, the view ahead opened up, and Mount Fuji appeared right before their eyes.
The villagers called it the Fuji-viewing Pine.
The two of them went there, spread grass, and sat down.

The midday sky of May hung hazy, the undulating hills of Suruga revealing their early summer form through the mist.
The warm wind blew, pleasantly cooling their slightly sweaty skin.
The two of them remained silent for a while, gazing at the scenery.

“I’ve made up my mind resolutely.”
The woman was the one to break the silence.

“Huh?” The man gave a look as if retorting.

“I’m going… To penal labor.”
The woman said this and took the man’s hand.
Then she brought it to her lap and fumbled with his fingers as though bending each one individually.

“It’s not something that needs deciding now.”
The man said with deliberate affectation.

“There’s no way I can possibly pay the fine, and besides…”

“If it’s money you need, I’ll earn it.
“I will most certainly earn it.”
The man cut her off before she could finish and declared resolutely.

“Besides, there are various things I need to consider.
“First of all, I simply cannot bear to cause you any further suffering over financial matters.”

“That’s not…”
This time, the woman interrupted what the man was about to say.

“Oh, please listen.
“I was scolded by you so many times, you know.
“You said I was restless.
“I too wanted to somehow attain peace and reflected deeply on various things, but somehow the world won’t let me stay still—how should I put this?
“It feels as if oil has been poured all through my body, then set aflame, and that fire fanned by wind—I become so tormented, so tormented that I cannot keep still, at times feeling as though I might go mad.
“I...
“If I hadn’t been by your side, I likely would have met my end long ago.”

“You’ve become agitated again.”
“That won’t do.”
“That won’t do.”

The man pulled his hand away from the woman’s lap as though tearing it free.

“No.
“I’m all right.”
“I’m perfectly composed today.”
“My going to penal labor ultimately amounts to nothing more than following your will.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I intend to submit to penal labor and come to discover peace there, you see.”
“That place must be a different world.”
“It must be completely cut off from the world.”
“As they say—today’s matters for today, tomorrow’s for tomorrow—if I just keep my body moving, time will pass by.”
“Freedom, freedom—no matter how desperately one might scream for it, it remains ultimately ungrantable. But if you instead immerse yourself in utter constraint, perhaps true freedom could be attained.”

Kouichi repeatedly tried to cut in during this exchange but finally found a break in the woman’s words.

“That’s absurd—there are limits to delusion.”
“You too have breathed the air of that place, haven’t you?”
“Those petty skirmishes, those fang-baring clashes—the barbarity despair spawns.”
“How do you account for that?”

“I still have greater reasons.”
“Kaburugi’s circumstance being one.”
The woman pressed her body flush against the man’s.

“Kaburugi is cursing us.”
“My presence at your side poses danger even to your body.”
“If I go there, Kaburugi’s fury might soften somewhat.”
“And then, to follow your teachings, I must cease correspondence with Mr. Misaka and Mr. Tada as well.”
“The authorities will cleanly sever me from the outside world—all slander and curses against me will vanish.”
“In exchange, should I return—”

The woman found herself unable to cry today of all days.
Having said all this, she thought it strange that she had managed to speak without shedding a single tear.
She even wondered whether there wasn't someone outside herself speaking this much, and whether she was merely borrowing that facade.

When she suddenly began to think such thoughts, she truly grew sad this time, and tears began to flow of their own accord.

“I’ve understood what you’ve said.”
The man said this and, appearing to choose his next words, closed his eyes for a moment—
“Have you considered your health?” he said.

“No.” The woman answered clearly.
“My health.
“What does that matter?”
“My pleura throbs every day.”
“If it rots and turns to mush, then that would be fine.”
“So there.”

“That won’t do.”
“You’re getting worked up again.”
“That’s too harsh.”

“Even violence won’t make life destroy itself.”

“That’s not it.”
“You are searching for a place to die by yourself.”

“But humans aren’t supposed to know the future, you see.”

“But you do know that future.”
“The time, place, and method of your death—you should know all of these.”
The man watched what the woman would do.
He was by no means abandoning his own plan.
His resolve to go to penal labor was thought to be nothing more than a means to deceive both himself and society.

“I hope your future becomes shrouded in uncertainty.”
“As long as my power to love you persists, I must strive to fulfill this hope.”

The woman reverted to her tearless former state.
She retraced the path that had led her to disclose this resolution to the man.
Overwhelming dilemmas—three or four of them layered one upon another—had thrown her thoughts, desires, and judgments into disarray, leaving her to long agonize over discerning the systematic path she ought to follow.
What she absolutely could not relinquish was a certain plan she had devised with Misaka and the others.
This she would never abandon.

Having thus relegated the most distant conclusion, she then considered organizing the nearer problems step by step.
The matter of the fine and Kaburugi—since these could be roughly resolved through submitting to penal labor—she disposed of them first.
The problem between herself and Kouichi—this was most difficult for her.
Whenever she saw the man’s complexion markedly improving and his mood gradually brightening, a desire would sprout within her to lay all her plans before the joy of “life” that he cherished.
Not only that.
She truly loved the man.
If ordinary circumstances and ordinary events had been the cause, she would undoubtedly have broken through that cause again and again, resorting to any means necessary to remain by his side.
But her plan was no ordinary circumstance, no ordinary incident.
She was resolved not to hesitate even if it meant sacrificing her life.
Love—of course she should not have hesitated to sacrifice it.
Even so, the woman could not bring herself to abandon love.
A method to achieve both these mutually exclusive desires was ultimately nowhere near being discovered.

If—if the woman were to add even greater boldness to her daring plan, draw the man into its ranks as well, carry it out together, and die together—
If she could make such a resolution, perhaps the two desires might fuse in death’s instant—yet even this she could not force upon the present Kouichi.
In the end, she decided to leave it unresolved for now and first deal with the matter of penal labor.
During penal labor, the sentiments of love might perhaps ease.
Again, the frenzy of that plan might perhaps cool.
As much as possible, she couldn’t help but want to return to the man’s side and become a woman capable of an easy life.
Yet whenever she thought this way, there was always one terrifying fact that loomed before Kouichi.
That was the problem of illness.
He was aware that his illness had already invaded his left lung.
If I must die from illness, I'd rather die for ××.
Her thoughts circled round and round like untangling a thread with no end.

Even when she confided in the man today, there was of course no final resolution, but he had already come to believe that she possessed that resolve.
And he strongly advised her to abandon that plan.
The woman tried to say, “That is still something I need to consider,” but she felt this would wound her pride.
If I abandon that, I will become 'just a woman.'
He might be pleased at first, but soon contempt would follow.

Finally, the woman said.

“What do you intend to do with me?”
The woman’s tone carried a rough edge.

The man—wondering what misunderstanding she nurtured—deliberately steadied himself,

“I have no intention of doing anything.
I only wish to grant you peace.”

“Such a thing is unnecessary for me. I am a fighter. I am a revolutionary. I will fight. To the bitter end.” The woman’s lips trembled faintly as she said this.

“You are misunderstanding what I’m saying. You will go to penal labor. That would be acceptable. If you insist so vehemently, I won’t stubbornly object. I’m simply worried about your illness. You’re suffering from insomnia every night, and whenever you do manage to sleep, you’re immediately drenched in night sweats—isn’t that so? You also seem to have intermittent fevers. Who knows what would happen if you went to penal labor in such a state—isn’t that so? If this hardship could be escaped with money, I would want to try devising some means. If that arrangement doesn’t demand any great sacrifice, you could leave your health in my hands. If it proves absolutely impossible, then I’ll watch in silence as you see fit.”

Having finished speaking, the man stood up,

"The discussion has reached a conclusion for now," he said.
That was precisely the tone of phrase needed to sway the woman’s heart.

The next day, Kouichi went to Tokyo to raise funds.
A few comrades merely received this story with suspicious looks.

They wore expressions that practically said, “Why don’t you get the government to provide it?”
The matter of bribery still lingered in their minds with a trace of suspicion.
Kouichi flew into a fierce rage.
He thought he must clear this disgrace at some point.
Therefore, the pain of this day—having endured upon endurance to avoid provoking immediate conflict—pierced him to the marrow.
He had already received so much help from Ohkawa that he could no longer bring himself to mention it.
But now, there was no one else to turn to but this person.
I have a draft treatise on Christ in mind.
He tried requesting an advance on the grounds that he would complete writing it.
After carefully listening to the entire explanation, Ohkawa spoke as follows.

“If you’re asking me to buy the manuscript, I might just buy it.”
“But if that money is meant to save Ms. Suzuko from penal labor, then I must reconsider.”
“Since this concerns just you and me, I’ll speak plainly—why aren’t you sending that woman to penal labor?”
“Hasn’t this arrived as the perfect chance for you to cut ties with that woman?”
“You’ll never find peace while that woman remains at your side.”
“That you—a man—bear this ultimate disgrace traces back to her doing.”
“Your life’s work—she trampled it to ruin.”
“That woman will bring you nothing but further turmoil and danger.”
“I can’t offer more help while you linger in this delusion.”

Kouichi could not refute the compassionate advice of this close friend, even with a thousand dissatisfactions.

"I'll think it over carefully," he said, and nothing more.

After staying one night in Tokyo, Kouichi returned dejectedly to his secluded retreat in Izu.
Even looking at Suzuko's face was now painful.
Suzuko had been speculating about the outcome of the matter.
When she went out to meet Kouichi upon his return, she realized her speculation had been correct.
And only her heart that pitied him as she imagined Kouichi's inner turmoil remained foremost.

“Suzuko.”
After returning and remaining lost in thought without saying anything beyond greetings, Kouichi called the woman’s name.
It was an extremely solemn voice.

“I apologize to you.”
“I was presumptuous.”
“Having no means to secure funds yet stubbornly persisting—I obstructed your hard-won resolution.”
“I shall now leave matters to your discretion.”
“Whatever may transpire, I shall raise no objections.”

Suzuko listened with an air of helplessness.

“My resolve hasn’t changed from two days ago.”
“I’ve advanced my thinking a step further.”
“I will part from you.”
“I will part from you as of today.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t ask me for reasons, I implore you.”
“I simply wish to part.”
“When I consider how we first became entangled like this, there truly was neither reason nor anything at all, was there?”
“So let us agree our parting too shall require no reason.”

"If it were merely a question of parting with you, I wouldn't go through such hardships."

“That’s right. That I understand perfectly. How much you care for me—I understand your heart completely. Even so, since I am still the one saying we must part, it’s only natural that you would want to know the reason. Listen, you. Please don’t ask about that now. If I were to speak of that, I would grow sad and my resolve would weaken. The reason will naturally become clear in time, so until then, I beg you...”

“Then I won’t ask for reasons. In return, Suzuko, I too will return to my former life. Your plan. Let me be included in your plan with Misaka and Tada.”

The woman was astonished.
She no longer knew how to respond.
She simply stared at the man’s face.

“I, as a man, have been branded with disgrace beyond endurance.”
“This must indeed be the eternal regret.”
“When, how, or where I might clear this—I have no prospects.”
“The only thing that exists is your plan.”
“Join it and do everything I wish to do.”

Through the day and night that Kouichi had spent in Tokyo, what Suzuko had contemplated was of an entirely opposite intent to this.Suzuko had come to think that she could not hope for the coexistence of the purpose she must fulfill and the Kouichi she loved.I must abandon one of them.This too I had considered.That was what I had ultimately been unable to decide.If I couldn't abandon one, then I would abandon both.This time I resolved on only that course of action.And she considered the man’s circumstances after she was gone.He is a scholar.The path he should take has now begun to open, if only slightly.Because someone like me is by his side,friends and comrades have distanced themselves from him,but were he to become alone,misunderstandings would dissolve and mockery would cease.The reason,wisdom,and knowledge he possesses will be restored.A peaceful and comfortable life will continue for him in the days to come.He is not someone I should kill along with now.One should not force action upon an ideal person.I will abandon everything and depart from here.This was the most benevolent course of action for him.But what would become of me after we parted?Though what little remains of my life may be brief—even during that time—who knows how long this lonely,pitch-dark existence will continue—will I truly be able to endure it?What will I do when I can no longer endure it?

Die.
Yes—there was no other way.
Even in death, he would be saved.
I had to save him at all costs.
Having sorted through her thoughts to this point, Suzuko felt relief.
She had resolved to discuss this course with Kouichi when he returned.
Yet she understood extraordinary care would be needed to voice it.

To her surprise, the opportunity emerged from the man's lips.
The woman considered using his impassioned words as an opening to confess her true intentions, yet found herself uncertain whether this course was wise.
So she began with these words:

"I mean to part ways with both you and the plan."

The man said scoldingly.

“Even you doubt me.”
“You’re abandoning the plan.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Who would believe that?”

“It’s true.”
“I truly have abandoned it.”

“Then what happens?”

“I will go to perform penal labor.”
“Then I will escape.”

“Let’s have no more of this farce.
I am being serious.”

“It is absolutely not a farce.
This is my final decision.
I want to truly become alone, return to the heart I had at seventeen or eighteen, and reconsider everything from the beginning.
If you become unbearably lonely for me, I might return again.
Whether that endurance lasts a day or three days.
Oh, do let me try it.
When I am gone, I want to see how your heart will change as well.”

“So you’ve completely abandoned the plan?”

“Yes.
“There’s no other way.
“I must save you, you see.
“Now you must understand my heart.
“You’ll come to understand more and more as time goes on.
“If that happens, you’ll think me pitiable, won’t you?
“Won’t you?”

Don't cry, don't cry.
If she cried her resolve would weaken—the woman desperately held back, but the rising tears of grief already filled her chest to bursting.
To distract herself from it, she abruptly stood and moved to the veranda's edge.

From farmhouses below her gaze rose multiple trails of smoke.
A valley stream meandered between village woods along the mountain's base.
From a lone house midway along the opposite bank's highway emerged a motherly figure waving vigorously.
Her posture suggested she was calling out.
In a field slightly beyond where her face turned, a child who had been crouching alone began running toward her.
The setting sun had already slipped behind the rear mountain.
Only faint brightness lingered at the opposite peak's crown while its entire mass darkened.

When it came to things she had decided, proceeding straight ahead without looking aside was Suzuko's nature. Especially with this matter, she had to carry it out even more urgently. If her resolve wavered even slightly, everything might revert to how it was before. Even as she disposed of the remaining small items around her, from time to time a weakness of heart would rise to the threshold of her consciousness. Suppressing that, Suzuko had completed all preparations by the following morning. The Shingen bag containing only what needed to be kept close at hand—she would carry that herself. She decided to have the luggage sent later to wherever she settled.

“Everything is completely ready now.”
Sitting before the long brazier, Suzuko spoke as if soliloquizing.
There appeared to be an utterly dejected air about her.

Kouichi had been irritable since the previous night.
Even deep into the night, he could not sleep.
When he finally thought he had dozed off, dawn had already broken.
He tried sitting up but found himself feeling somehow less than human.
His whole body tingled faintly.
Once he let go of the woman for good—no matter how much he thought about what would happen afterward—he could reach no conclusion.
His only hope lay in waiting for a change in the woman's heart.
Even as he lay there, he imagined she might already have abandoned her plan to go to Tokyo.
If she were to say that and throw herself down, he thought he would clasp her tightly in both arms.
The woman had finally finished preparing.
The awaited words showed no sign of escaping her lips.
Now that it had come to this, unless he took initiative to stop her himself, she would surely leave as she was.
This certain future came before Kouichi's eyes and stopped dead.
Kouichi had lost even the courage to sweep it away.

“I’ll just go say my farewells to the main house.”

As the woman stood,

“Ah!” called the man.

“Do you need something?”
The woman tried to move toward the man.

“Later.”
The man said as if flinging the words away and dropped heavily onto his side.

From the construction shed below came a sound like wood being struck two or three times in succession, then stopped again.
The sky seemed to be cloudy after all.

Before long, the woman returned.
The innkeeper had also followed her back.

"When the mistress returns, the master must feel lonely," said the innkeeper, sitting on the edge of the veranda.

"Please do.
Okami-san, I entrust this to you.
If only my health improves, I'll return right away."

"Oh, oh, anything within my power I shall do," the innkeeper said amiably,

"Then I'll go call for a carriage," she said, making her sandals clatter as she went out.

“You... this is truly our farewell,” the innkeeper said in a heartfelt tone.

“......”
The man found his answer caught in his throat and unable to emerge.
And staring fixedly at the woman’s demeanor, he felt ashamed of his own unsightliness compared to her calm composure.

“Please don’t overexert yourself.”
The woman was still able to speak.

“It’s about you more than me.
Life is precious.”

Kouichi finally managed to say only this much.

“Thank you. I will devote myself in my own way.”

“Right now, I have too much to say—so much that I cannot say anything. I’ll say it all in a letter later. Right after.”

“No, you mustn’t. I ask that you please refrain from sending letters.”

“That’s too cruel.”

“Absolutely not—that’s not the case at all. If I were to see your letter, I would go mad again because of it. Because I do not wish to endure any more anguish.”

“I see.
“Then I won’t write any letters either.”
The man thought to say “Please reconsider” after these words, but in this situation it seemed all too spineless, so he kept his mouth shut.

Outside, there was a sign of someone approaching, followed by the clattering sound of carriage shafts being lowered.

“The carriage has come.”
The woman’s voice as she spoke was like one crushed beneath a heavy weight.

(October 1912 [Taisho 1], "Subaru")