Pathway to Japanese Literature

Characters

Sakata Tōjūrō: Troupe leader of the Miyako Mandayū-za; a master praised as the Sanga-tsu Sōgeigashira.

Kirinami Senju: Lead female-role actor, a beautiful young actor.

Nakamura Shirōgorō: Lead male-role actor of the same troupe

Arashi Sanjūrō: Lead male-role actor of the same troupe

Sawamura Chōjūrō: Lead male-role actor of the same troupe

Sodezaki Genji: Junior female-role actor of the same troupe

Kirinami Afuyo: Junior female-role actor of the same troupe

Sakata Ichiya: Junior female-role actor of the same troupe

Onogawa Ugenji: Young male-role actor of the same troupe

Fujita Koheiji: Young male-role actor of the same troupe

Sendai Yagoshichi: Comic role of the same troupe

Hattori Jirōemon: Villain role of the same troupe

Kaneko Kichizaemon: Kyōgen playwright of the same troupe

Wakadayū of Mandayū-za: Owner of Mandayū-za

Backstage Manager

Backstage attendants: Two or three

Many other young male-role actors and male attendants

Sōsei's many maids

Sōsei's wife O-Katsu: a beautiful wife nearing forty

Other minor characters: two or three individuals

Time:

Around the tenth year of Genroku

Location:

Kyoto, Shijō Riverbed Nakajima

Act 1

——The grand hall of Sōsei's affiliated tea house at Shijō Nakajima's Mandayū-za troupe.
One evening at the end of February.
A celebratory banquet for the Yayoi Kyōgen season was being hosted by the actors of the Mandayū-za troupe.
Silver candlesticks bearing hundred-measure candles were arrayed in countless numbers.
On the upper side of the stage, behind the tokonoma alcove, sitting leisurely upon a damask-covered mirror cushion was Sakata Tōjūrō.
He was a fair-skinned handsome man with his hair tied in a tea whisk-shaped topknot.
He wore a mouse-gray crepe silk undergarment beneath, draped a black habutae haori bearing a double-sided mustard-seed doll Kaga crest over it, and fastened a Sōden deep tea-colored tatami obi around his waist.
To the right of Tōjūrō sat Kirinami Senju, the troupe's lead female-role actor.
Over a white underkimono, he wore two layers of purple crepe silk, with a velvet haori and a purple work hat adorning his ensemble—his entire bearing as alluring as a woman.
To the left and right of the two were seated Nakamura Shirōgorō, Arashi Sanjūrō, Sawamura Chōjūrō, Sodezaki Genji, Kirinami Afuyo, Sakata Ichiya, Onogawa Ugenji, Fujita Koheiji, Sendai Yagoshichi, Hattori Jirōemon, Kaneko Kichizaemon, and others.
At the end of the seats, beautiful boys in young male roles and male attendants such as pages were in attendance.
Wakadayū of Mandayū-za was overseeing the banquet arrangements.

As the curtain rose, a beautiful boy in a young male role beat a hand drum while five voices joined in unison to sing the following ballad in Ryūtatsu-bushi style.

Song: “If you pledge yourself to someone, let it be lightly and see it through to the end. Look at the maple leaves—
“Do the pale ones scatter, or the deep-hued ones? The deep-hued ones fall first, do they not?”

(When they finished singing, the actors applauded and praised them.)

(A maid from Sōsei’s household slid open the shōji door at stage left and emerged holding a letter box adorned with red paper.)

Maid: “A letter has arrived for Master Tōjūrō.”

Wakadayū (intercepting it): "This appears to be urgent business."
(passes it to Tōjūrō)

Tōjūrō (receiving it): "Ah indeed, this does appear to be urgent business.
I shall take a moment to peruse this.
Ladies and gentlemen, I beg your pardon."
"Well now... Lady Naminami of Suribayashi... Ah yes, this is a letter from Master Chikamatsu."
(Reading silently at first, then raising his voice at the end): "Being deeply concerned about this play myself, I have thus dispatched this missive via express courier.
Should you suffer defeat at Master Shōchō's hands, it would not merely mark Your Excellency's personal failure—nay, it would bring disgrace upon Kyoto kabuki itself, the very birthplace of our art. I most earnestly entreat you to devote yourself wholly to devising stratagems, leaving no room for negligence."
(After pondering for a moment and reading it again): "It would bring disgrace upon Kyoto kabuki... Hmm!"
What kind of defeat could I possibly allow?
Ha ha ha... But it is precisely because Master Chikamatsu cares for this Tōjūrō that he suffers such great distress.

Senju spoke with feminine affectation: “Indeed it is so. For this play, even Master Chikamatsu himself reportedly labored three days and three nights, crushing liver and gall.”
“Truly, this cannot be treated lightly.”

Yagoshichi gestured theatrically like a comic actor: “Precisely why this adulterer’s kyōgen stands unprecedented!”
“The device being—to take Master Tōjūrō, unmatched in Japan for courtesan roles, and sharply transform him into an adulterer this time.”
“If courtesan love belongs to spring nights, this scorches like midsummer’s fiercest heat.”
“A love that chars flesh to ashes.”

Shirōgorō: “Rather than a summer’s love, it’s winter’s love—terrifying and cold.”
“A love that gambles one’s very life.”

Sanjūrō: “A love that risks life itself.”
“Should things go awry, it’s a love so perilous it would end in crucifixion at Awataguchi.”

Genji: “Just yesterday while passing through Miyagawachō, two merchants who looked like incense sellers walked ahead of us, talking loudly.”
“‘Master Tōjūrō,’ they said, ‘who knows every one of the forty-eight techniques of courtesan patronage—imagine how he’ll perform an adulterer’s gestures! The audience will surely gasp!’ They were excitedly talking about this very prospect.”

Chōjūrō: “Even those court nobles who annually grumble that Master Tōjūrō’s paper robe attire grows somewhat tiresome will surely be astonished by this new play.”

Hattori Jirōemon: “Still, when I think how this play will knock the wind out of Master Nakamura Shichisaburō from the Hanzaemon-za troupe—they’ve had packed houses nonstop since spring—that prospect alone brings me the greatest pleasure. When I imagine the great wave of spectators drawn to Hanzaemon-za surging back toward Mandayū-za, that prospect alone brings me the greatest pleasure.”

Shirōgorō: "Though I say that, given it's a new play, Master Tōjūrō's efforts must be no ordinary matter."
"Since ancient times, kabuki play motifs—the ways of male love, courtesan patronage, illicit affairs, and comic roles—had largely been set in stone, yet Master Monzaemon's concept overturns them from their very foundations."
"Moreover, with a concept that directly incorporates the circumstances of Kyoto's renowned master bookbinder—if this play doesn't succeed, what will?"

Wakadayū (smugly): "Just as Master Shirōgorō says."
(Edging closer to Tōjūrō) "For the pre-celebration, please accept another."
"Your Excellency's courtesan patronage gestures remain unparalleled in Japan, but forbidden love's execution must require an altogether different device."
"Ha ha ha."

Tōjūrō had gradually begun to show an unpleasant expression as he listened to the actors’ conversation. He silently accepted the cup offered by Wakadayū and drained it in one gulp.

Lady Senju, noticing Tōjūrō’s displeasure, interjected with diplomatic softness: “Truly, as Wakadayū says, Master Tōjūrō must surely have already devised plans for such matters. We need only rely on Master Tōjūrō and move like puppets.”

Wakadayū (emboldened by Senju’s mediation): “Compared to this current play, even the so-called hit *Keisei Asamagatake* has a plot lacking in depth—shallow and insipid.”
“Truly, only Master Monzaemon could conceive an adulterer’s play.”
“Moreover, you must have some experience with such unconventional love yourself, Master Sakata.”
“Ha ha ha ha…”

Tōjūrō had been wearing an increasingly unpleasant and troubled expression since earlier.
(reacting as if wounded by Wakadayū’s final words and flaring up) How could such a thing ever exist!
Tōjūrō was a born philanderer, yet he had never been intimate with another’s wife.

Wakadayū (having been directly rebuffed in what he had intended as playful banter, lapsed into dispirited silence).

Lady Senju (mediating again): "Truly, it is as Master Sakata says—this Senju too has never been intimate with another’s wife."

The other actors (all burst into laughter)….

Yagoshichi: “That’s true for anyone.”
“If there were a drought of women, that’d be one thing—but why risk danger chasing another’s wife when Miyagawachō’s songstresses, Muromachi’s young widows, Gion’s geisha, Shijō-Gojō’s town maidens, and ladies-in-waiting who fancy actors are as numerous as the stars?”
“Ha ha ha.”

Genji: “But as the saying goes—‘First theft, second concubine, third maid, fourth wife.’ Just as stolen food has its own distinct flavor, even another’s wife shouldn’t be dismissed so lightly.”

Chōjūrō: “Well then, it seems you have some experience.”

Genji: “What experience could I possibly have? But consider—if people feared crucifixion, adulterous affairs should have vanished from this world. Yet their persistence is proven by Osan Moemon appearing in this kyōgen. The way of illicit love follows different rules.”
“Ha ha ha ha.”

Wakadayū (trying to conceal his dejection): "The troupe feels desolate."
“Come now… young ones, go ahead and perform a linked dance.”

Three or four young troupe members: Aye.
(They rise and begin to dance.)

Tōjūrō—silent, appearing to secretly devise plans for the kyōgen—quietly rose from his seat while the troupe’s attention was captivated by the linked dance.
Sliding open the front shoji, he quietly stepped out into the corridor.

(The young troupe members continued dancing.)
The drumbeats intensified, growing more boisterous.
The actors too grew somewhat giddy.

Yagoshichi (rising in a comical manner): “I’ll join the linked dance troupe!”

Shirōgorō: “The beautiful young troupe members and the bald Master Yagoshichi.
This is an even more amusing combination.
I’ll take charge of the drum.”

(Yagoshichi danced alongside the young troupe members with exaggerated clownish gestures.)
(As they laughed uproariously, the stage revolved.)

Act II

Sōsei's detached guest room.
To the left, a part of Kamogahara could be seen.
To the right, there is a long corridor extending toward the main house.
The light of the silk lantern sensually illuminates the beautiful furnishings.

When the curtain rose, Tōjūrō walked along the right corridor with his arms crossed. He stopped from time to time to think. He leaned against a corridor pillar and thought. He took another two or three steps while trying out simple gestures. He finally arrived at the guest room. He slid open the shoji, and after confirming no one was present, entered quietly. He took out a script excerpt from his breast pocket.

Tōjūrō read from the script excerpt while trying out gestures: “Having come to this pass, even the torments of fire and water...”
(As if his device failed him, he threw down the script excerpt and began to ponder.)
He stood and attempted a gesture resembling taking a woman’s hand.
(He opened the script excerpt again and stared intently) “Even were it the path to the afterlife through the three realms, with you I would not refuse...” (Again as if despairing, he threw down the script excerpt and clutched his head in contemplation.)
He renewed his resolve, stood up, and tried moving in silence.
As if his device finally failed him, he sat back with hands planted behind him and let out a low sigh.
As if finally suspending his device for the time being, he reached out to take the armrest placed in the tokonoma alcove, rested his right elbow upon it, and lay down.

(For a while, nothing happened.)
The faint sounds of hand drums and taiko being struck in the main hall drifted in.
Tōjūrō quietly closed his eyes.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Tōjūrō slightly opened his eyes, placed the script excerpt over his face, and feigned sleep.

The one who appeared in the corridor was O-Katsu, the wife of Sōsei.
Approaching briskly, she slid open the shoji without so much as a nod.
(Startled upon seeing Tōjūrō’s figure.)

O-Katsu: “Oh! Was it Master Tōjūrō? What a dreadful blunder I’ve committed. I beg your pardon.” She made to leave immediately, then paused as if struck by a thought. “How typical of women and children to be so thoughtless. Lying in such a chill place risks you catching cold. Here—let me fetch bedding for you.” She moved toward the closet in the room’s corner.

Tōjūrō sat up straight upon recognizing Sōsei’s wife, adjusting his posture. “Ah! The mistress of the house herself. How terribly inconsiderate of me.”

“What inconvenience could there possibly be?”
“Now then—please lie down and rest.”

(Tōjūrō suddenly looked at O-Katsu’s face.
A starkly white oval face with beautifully defined eyebrows.
Tōjūrō’s eyes, blank at first, grew increasingly intense.
O-Katsu, feigning complete unawareness of his peculiar tension, softly draped a habutae quilt over him from behind.)

“Now then, please rest.
If I go over there, I’ll have the women bring water or something.”
(Attempting to leave nonchalantly.)

Tōjūrō's eyes gleamed.
(He watched O-Katsu depart in silence, then called out from behind as if struck by sudden inspiration) "Lady O-Katsu."
"Lady O-Katsu."
"Wait a moment."

O-Katsu: (slightly startled but maintaining innocence) "Do you require something?"
(sat down)

Tōjūrō (pushing the bedding aside behind him): "There's a matter requiring your consent. Won't you approach a little nearer?"

O-Katsu appeared slightly uneasy, fidgeting without drawing too close.
(still innocently) “What could this formal matter be?”
“Oh ho ho ho!”

Tōjūrō spoke in a low yet powerful voice: “There is a confession I must share with you.”
“Come a bit closer.”

O-Katsu: “Master Tōjūrō, what’s with that solemn face? Are you proclaiming some grand scheme?”
While scooting closer: “I’ve moved this near, but what’s this about?”

Tōjūrō (completely serious): “Lady O-Katsu, would you deign to hear Tōjūrō’s confession today?”
“This Tōjūrō has kept something hidden from you these twenty years.”
“Today I must have you hear it—when I recall, it’s an old matter. You were sixteen and I twenty that autumn, during the Gion Festival at a riverside temporary theater. Surely you haven’t forgotten how we danced together in paired formation?”
(He stared fixedly at O-Katsu’s face)

O-Katsu (as if reminiscing, slightly dazed): "Truly, that time..."

Tōjūrō: "That was the first time we laid eyes on you."
"When they spoke of Lady O-Katsu—the songstress of Miyagawachō—I had long heard whispers that even the most beautiful onnagata could never match your radiance. Yet seeing you for the first time, your beauty surpassed all I had heard."
"Even this Tōjūrō—who prided himself on his charms—thought dancing alongside you would cause even one as vain as myself to shrink away..."
(He stared fixedly, bowing his head.)

O-Katsu (her face burning like fire, bowing her head without a word)

Tōjūrō (desperately tense): “It was from that moment I came to see you as a beauty rare in this world.”

O-Katsu (while bowing her head, growing increasingly limp, her body trembling faintly)...

Tōjūrō (staring with a clear, cold gaze too sharp to belong to a lovestruck man—piercing through the woman who dared not lift her face—while imbuing his voice alone with a tremor of fierce passion): “When I first beheld you, I kept yearning night and day for a chance to approach. Yet we young actors lived under the master’s edicts—too strict to permit such indulgences.”
“Not for a single moment was this body of mine governed by my own heart.”
“Though my heart alone burned with longing, I resigned myself to waiting for an opportunity—and before I had even reached twenty, you became the cherished wife of this household’s master, Seibee-dono.”
“The bitterness we felt at that time—even now when I recall it, my chest feels as if it will burst with anguish.”
(As he spoke these words, Tōjūrō writhed in agony as if unable to remain seated.)
Yet his two eyes alone emitted a blazing cold light, staring at the woman with terrifying intensity—observing her breathing, her very state—

O-Katsu raised her face halfway as if somewhat calmed. Her features, once drained completely pale, now flushed a faint red in reaction. Her eyes blazed with a fierce intensity like fire…

Tōjūrō’s words alone trembled with passion: “Though I sternly suppress in my heart that yearning for you—now another’s wife—is against human decency, what cannot be stilled is a mortal man’s desire. Whenever I heard rumors of you, whenever I glimpsed your face—throughout those twenty years, there was not a single day I forgot you.” He displayed craft surpassing even his stage performances, blending terror at seducing a married woman with trembling unease as he pressed closer to her frozen form. “Yet this Tōjūrō—though called a libertine—has steadfastly suppressed this heart burning day and night, vowing never to commit the cruelty of coveting another’s wife. But we too have reached forty-five this year. The appointed time of human life draws near.” His voice cracked. “This love... This love endured in silence for twenty years—to think I’ve never breathed a word of it in this world, that there’s no one in any age to whom I could speak… Whenever these thoughts arise, my heart grows so distraught it borders on madness.” He edged nearer, writhing as if mad yet maintaining blade-clear eyes. “Listen—Lady O-Katsu. If you would take pity on this Tōjūrō, grant me but a single word of compassion. Please! Lady O-Katsu.”

O-Katsu: “Oh…!”
(With that, she collapsed in tears.)

Tōjūrō stared fixedly at O-Katsu, who had collapsed in tears. A cold expression hovered about his lips. Yet despite this—his voice and movements possessed a passion worthy of a man driven mad by love—he pressed on: “Lady O-Katsu. Having heard Tōjūrō’s unfeigned true feelings—do you not find his love pitiable? Do you not find this love—endured in secret for twenty years—pitiable? Truly, you are a woman of iron will.”

O-Katsu (only sobbing without answering)….

(Both remained silent as time passed.)
The plovers drawn to the light—their voices like silver scissors snipping—rang out clear enough to grasp in one’s palm.

Tōjūrō (with a self-mocking, desolate laugh): “What grievous impropriety I’ve committed.”
“Yet that you’d show no pity for this Tōjūrō’s anguished love—ah, what fortitude you possess.”
“In stage affairs of the heart, even Japan’s peerless Tōjūrō finds himself helplessly cast aside when facing you.”
“Hahahahahaha!”

O-Katsu (suddenly raises her face.
Her expression turns desperate.
(in a low, fading voice) “Then Master Fuji—are all the things you just said truly your real feelings?”

Tōjūrō (with a desperately pale face): “What nonsense—how could I speak of changing stance?
To approach another’s wife is to stake one’s life on love.”
(Poised to rise.)
(His knees tremble faintly.)

(O-Katsu—apparently having steeled herself with desperate resolve—glanced at the man’s face with fiery eyes, then suddenly blew out the flame of the nearby silk lantern with a sharp puff.)
In the darkness, a terrible hesitation and silence lay between them.
O-Katsu trembled violently throughout her body as she waited for the man to approach.
Tōjūrō’s eyes rolled upward, and his legs trembled faintly.
Finally standing up, he walked toward O-Katsu.
O-Katsu became desperate, but Tōjūrō smoothly slipped past her side and groped his way into the corridor.

O-Katsu (noticed the man about to leave): “Master Fuji! Master Fuji!”
(called in a low voice as she tried to cling after him)

(Noticing O-Katsu pursuing him, Tōjūrō closed the sliding door behind.)
O-Katsu clung to the sliding door, writhing as she collapsed in tears.
Tōjūrō, somewhat flustered, fled like a beast at a hurried pace.
O-Katsu's weeping voice mingled with the cries of plovers.)

Act Three

A day about seven days after Act Two.

Mandan-dayū-za's backstage.
Upstage, the entrances to each of the actors’ rooms could be seen.
The most conspicuous among them was Tōjūrō’s room with its curtain bearing the Ume-no-hanabishi crest.
In the center was the backstage manager’s room.
Stage left was an entranceway leading to the Mandan-dayū-za’s stage.
A pale blue curtain hung.
Over on that stage, it seemed the curtain had yet to rise, and the continuous sounds of drums, taiko, and flutes could be heard.
When the curtain rose, five or six kyōgen performers and lower-ranking actors busily moved back and forth across the stage.
The backstage manager carried costumes, waist accessories, and such to the actors’ rooms.

Wakadayū of the Mandayū-za came out of Tōjūrō’s room.
He exchanged greetings with the backstage manager as they met.

Backstage Manager: “Congratulations.”
“Even before the dawn bell finished ringing, patrons were already crowding at the admission gate.”

Wakadayū: “How auspicious.”
“This owes entirely to Master Tōjūrō.”
“The Kyoto courtesans whisper that the adulterer’s gestures prove utterly irresistible.”

Backstage Manager: “Then Hanzaemon’s people must stand dumbfounded.”
“With such acclaim, two hundred days’ run seems certain—nay inevitable.”

Wakadayū: “In any case, this calls for celebration.”
“Keep strict watch over the entire backstage.”
“Let there be no mishaps.”
“Packed houses like this always invite trouble—fires or thefts cropping up when least wanted.”

Backstage Manager: “Understood perfectly, sir.”

(The two parted ways to left and right.
From the stage left entrance, a clerk-like man entered, accompanied by an apprentice.)

Clerk-like Man (calling out to the Backstage Manager): “Ah, excuse me!
Where would Master Tōjūrō’s room be?”

Backstage Manager: “From which establishment?
The room is right here.”

Clerk-like Man: “I am a clerk from Bizen-ya of Shijō Muromachi.”

Backstage Manager: “Oh! Are you the messenger from the esteemed patron of Muromachi?
Right this way!
Please proceed.
It’s the second room from the left.”

“I see. The Ume-no-hanabishi crest is indeed attached.”

(The clerk-like man enters Tōjūrō’s room.)

(From the room immediately next to Tōjūrō’s, Nakamura Shirōgorō, dressed as Daikyōji Iharu, and Sodezaki Genji, dressed as maid Otama, emerged.)

Shirōgorō (grabbing Genji’s sleeve and making a slight gesture): “Somehow, the part where I playfully approach you just isn’t working. Today marks the third day, but it still hasn’t taken shape. When I tried asking Master Tōjūrō for advice yesterday, he told me devising it yourself is crucial. Now then—before the curtain rises—could you run through it with me one more time?”

Genji: “Oh, that’s easily done! I’ll run through it as many times as you need. Whenever someone asks Master Tōjūrō for advice, he always gives a harsh scolding. ‘Devise things yourselves!’—that’s Master Tōjūrō’s stock phrase.”

Shirōgorō: “Oh! Two years ago, when Yamashita Kyōemon came to bid Master Tōjūrō farewell before leaving for Edo, he said that by modeling himself after Master Tōjūrō in all things, his artistry had greatly improved. Master Tōjūrō—as was his wont—frowned slightly and declared, ‘Those who imitate others are inevitably inferior to those they imitate. You too must devote yourself entirely to your own devices,’ without so much as a smile. Even now, when I recall how flustered Master Kyōemon looked then, it still makes me laugh.”

Genji: “Before we taste Master Tōjūrō’s reprimands, let’s devise another approach.”

Shirōgorō (suddenly striking a stage pose): “Hah! This shan’t stand!”
“A proper wife’s jealousy and pepper in udon—both foregone conclusions I cannot fathom.”
“Though purple be beyond me—nay, were my whole body stained reddish-brown—for your sake I’d bear it.”

Genji (mirroring theatrical gestures): “However you’d have it proceed.”
“As one might declare to Lady Kochaō.”
“Ah! Lady O-San! Lady O-San!”

Shirōgorō (still continuing his gestures): "Good grief, that Lady Soto-Osan's noisy mouth! Once mouths get mentioned, they multiply into endless chatter."
(Suddenly returning to his role as an actor) "I simply can't get this part right."

(Guided by kabuki tea house Hanagyuruma women, a young town girl entered from the stage left entrance.)

Hanagyuruma Woman: “Oh, Master Genji! What perfect timing—this is the young lady of Higashinotōin’s Omi-ya I mentioned before.”

Genji (hesitantly, to Shirōgorō): “The curtain’s about to rise—could we go through it once more?”

Hanagyuruma Woman: “How cruel you are! She’s come all this way backstage—won’t you spare even a few words?”

Genji (fidgeting, to the young lady): “You’ve truly honored us with your presence.”

Town Girl: (Blushing similarly, silently lowered her head)

Hanagyuruma Woman: “Now then, do come along to my tea house for a moment. Just a short while. I won’t keep you long.”

Genji: “I truly cannot. It’s about to begin.”

“What do you mean ‘about to begin’? It hasn’t even started yet!”
“Come along now.”
(Forcibly taking Genji’s hand, she exited from the stage left entrance with the girl.)

(Sendai Yagoshichi, dressed as Sukesuke, appeared from stage right together with three or four actors costumed as clerks and apprentices.)

**A**: “Young women these days require constant vigilance—they come all the way backstage, shamelessly infatuated with actors.”

**B**: “Even so, Master Sodezaki is fortunate. Being adored so fervently by those naive town girls—he can’t find it entirely disagreeable.”
“Hahaha.”

**C**: “Even so, what a commotion from the spectators! The theater appears packed to bursting.”

Shirōgorō (having lost his partner Genji, stood blankly for a moment): I wish I could show Shōchō of Edo this packed house.

Yagoshichi: That’s really true.
“Compared to this kyōgen, Asamagatake’s plays are mere child’s play.”

Shirōgorō: "The smoke rising from Mount Asamagatake grows ever thinner."
He laughed harshly.

(Kirinami Senju, disguised as the beautiful O-San, emerges from the room. Kongō is fastened.)

Yagoshichi: “Yesterday, in a certain place, I heard a rumor that Master Tōjūrō—after struggling with devising this kyōgen—made advances toward a tea house proprietress and modeled the adulterer’s emotions and gestures. Is it true?”

Shirōgorō: “I don’t know for certain, but Lady Senju must have heard. Is that rumor true?”

Senju: “I too have heard such rumors through others. Master Tōjūrō remained silent and said nothing at all. But on that evening of the drinking party at Sōsei’s to maintain connections—Master Tōjūrō, preoccupied with devising the kyōgen, excused himself from the banquet, and you all gradually became drunk and withdrew to a separate room. When Master Tōjūrō returned to the banquet with a pale face and panting breath, he gulped down three or four large cups in quick succession before saying, ‘Be at ease, Lady Senju. I have devised the kyōgen.’ But his expression was terrifyingly unlike his usual self that night...”

(As Senju tilted her head in thought, she noticed Sōsei’s O-Katsu stealthily entering from the stage left entrance and fell silent.)

Sendai Yagoshichi (displaying his actor’s comic flair): “Well now, well now—Lady O-Katsu.”
“What an honor to have you grace us with your presence.”
“Might I inquire something?”
“Master Tōjūrō’s partner for rehearsing the kyōgen—would that be you?”

Lady O-Katsu: (nervously yet modestly) “Not at all. What an abrupt question this is.”

Yagoshichi: (with equally clownish gestures) “They say Master Tōjūrō pretended to court someone else’s wife for this kyōgen’s rehearsal, then fled when she seemed to respond. Might you know anything about that?”

Lady O-Katsu: (composed and decorous) “Even were it pretense, to stand as Master Tōjūrō’s beloved—if only once—would fulfill my purpose as a woman.”

“Well said indeed!” Yagoshichi laughed. “Hahaha.”

Senju interjected conciliatorily, “Truly, had it not been you—whose reputation as a chaste woman precedes you—suspicion would surely have fallen upon someone under such circumstances. Do you come on business to the dressing room? Then please proceed.”

“A message from a customer for Master Arashi Sanjūrō,” O-Katsu replied.

Senju: “Is that so?”
“Now then, please proceed.”

(O-Katsu bowed slightly and passed by.)
As she moved toward the actors’ room, she encountered Tōjūrō emerging from his chamber.
Both froze momentarily.
O-Katsu gave a slight nod and passed by.
(Tōjūrō gazed at her retreating figure for a moment.)

Shirōgorō (seeing Tōjūrō emerge): “Even now, we were talking about you.”
“Are you aware of the rumors spreading backstage and beyond regarding this kyōgen?”

Tōjūrō (without losing his dignity as troupe leader): “I have not heard a thing.”

Yagoshichi: “How strange that you, the very source of these rumors, claim ignorance.”

Senju: “We best not tell Master Tōjūrō.”

Yagoshichi: “Even unspoken, such matters eventually surface.
“Master Tōjūrō, hear this.
“They say while devising this kyōgen, you courted a certain married woman.”

Tōjūrō (laughing heartily): “Baseless conjecture!
“When I tended Arashi Sanjūrō’s wounded warrior role before, they made endless fuss—‘Tōjūrō must know surgery!’—what tiresome chatter.
“An actor’s art lies in feigning mastery where none exists.
“Play an oil seller without oil-selling knowledge? That’s artistry.
“No adulterer’s experience means no adulterer’s kyōgen; no thief’s cunning means no thief’s play—such is our craft’s logic.
“Never been a court noble? Then never portray one onstage—such is our craft’s logic.
“Mere prattle!
“The vacuous gossip of Kyoto’s idlers!
“Should such talk spread, who knows what trouble might befall wives of those near me.
“Act to quash it.”

Senju: “Truly, it is as Master Tōjūrō says.”

Yagoshichi: “Now that’s our Master Tōjūrō for you!”
“Ah! Of course!”
“If one can’t perform kyōgen without true understanding, then actors—from regents and chancellors down to the lowliest clerks—must’ve lived every role to call themselves actors!”
“Makes perfect sense now!”

Shop clerk-like man (emerging from Tōjūrō’s room): “Then I shall humbly take my leave.”

“Your efforts are appreciated.”
“Please convey my deepest gratitude to the Master Patron.”

(The shop clerk-like man exited with the apprentice.)
The curtain’s opening had drawn near, evident in the increasingly frequent comings and goings of stagehands and backstage staff.

Tōjūrō (glancing at Senju): “Lady Senju.”
“In that darkness when we first take each other’s hands, might you show a touch more frenzied air?”
“Women in such moments become frenzied as though discarding self and world entire—far beyond men’s measure, I tell you.”

Senju: (frankly) “Understood. Today, with Master Monzaemon himself in attendance at our performance, I shall pour even greater heart into my acting.”

“Come now—the curtain’s rise needs no further waiting.”

(Tōjūrō takes Senju’s hand and moves to proceed.)

Suddenly, the dressing room erupted into commotion.
“Suicide!”
“Suicide!”
“A woman’s suicide!” shouted the stagehands and lower-ranking actors as they rushed toward the actors’ rooms.

Backstage Manager (rushing in frantically): “Oh, don’t make a sound! If the audience starts making a commotion, the stage will be a complete shambles! Quiet! Quiet!”

(He entered deeper backstage from behind the others.)

Yagoshichi (with a theatrical air befitting a comic actor): “How peculiar.”
“A suicide? And a woman’s suicide at that?”
“There shouldn’t be a single female soul in this dressing room.”

Senju (mirroring his bewilderment): “A woman’s suicide!”
“What—a woman’s suicide!”

Tōjūrō (turning faintly pale as if struck by realization, maintaining silence)...

(Stagehands and backstage attendants bore in O-Katsu’s corpse.)
(They chorused, “It’s Sōsei’s wife!”)

Senju (rushing over in shock): “What?!”
“Sōsei’s wife!”
(As if suddenly noticing something, she turns back toward Tōjūrō)….

Tōjūrō averted his eyes as though avoiding Senju’s gaze....

Yagoshichi: “It is indeed Sōsei’s wife.”
“A single stab below the chest with a dagger.”

Shirōgorō: “She was just speaking here moments ago, yet met her end in the blink of an eye.”
“Master Tōjūrō, please look—though I do not know the particulars, she met her end remarkably well, a rarity among women.”

Tōjūrō approached as if drawn in, staring fixedly at the lifeless face.
(Without a word...)

Wakadayū (panting as he rushed in): “What’s happened?”
“What’s happened?”
“A woman’s suicide!”
“Why—it’s Sōsei’s wife!”
“I don’t know what drove her to it, but must she have chosen the Mandayū-za’s dressing room of all places to kill herself?”

“Honestly, she didn’t have to come to the dressing room to die.”
(Suddenly looking at Tōjūrō’s face, she fell silent)….

Yagoshichi: “If word of this ill omen spreads publicly—even that hard-won surge in our Kyōgen’s reputation won’t escape being tainted.”

Wakadayū: “Truly, that is worrisome.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, I must ask that you refrain from speaking of this matter.”

Tōjūrō (after silently staring at the corpse, suddenly changing his demeanor): “What is there to worry about?”
“Should the popularity of Tōjūrō’s artistry be tarnished by something as trivial as the life of a single woman?”
(Taking Senju’s hand) “Come, Lady Senju—it’s time for the stage.”

Senju (with the tenderness of a real woman): “Understood.”

Tōjūrō (stomped hurriedly toward the stage but turned back to glance at the corpse once more, then exited as though finally resolved.)
At the same moment, the sharp crack of wooden clappers signaling the curtain’s rise resounded, and quietly the curtain fell.

―CURTAIN―