Pathway to Japanese Literature

It was a lamp of an unusual shape. The base was a thick bamboo tube about eighty centimeters long, with a small fire-lit part attached on top, and the glass chimney was a slender glass tube. To someone seeing it for the first time, it hardly seemed like a lamp at all. So everyone ended up mistaking it for an old-fashioned gun.

“What’s this—a gun?” said Demon Sōhachi-kun.

Higashiichi’s grandfather also couldn’t tell what it was for a while. After staring at it through his glasses, he finally realized what it was.

Upon realizing it was a lamp, Higashiichi’s grandfather began scolding the children like this.

“Hey now—what do you think you’re taking out? “Truly, children are like sneak-thieving cats—leave them to play quietly and who knows what they’ll drag out next, requiring constant vigilance with no moment unguarded.” “Hey now, bring that here, and you all go outside to play.” “If you go outside, there’s plenty to play with—telegraph poles or whatever.”

When scolded in this way, the children would for the first time realize that they had done something wrong. So, not only Higashiichi, who had brought out the lamp, but even the neighborhood children who hadn’t taken anything out all trooped dejectedly out to the road with faces that looked as though they’d all done something wrong.

Outside, the spring midday breeze occasionally blew up dust on the road, and white butterflies would sometimes flit hurriedly through the wake of a plodding ox cart. Indeed, telegraph poles stood here and there. However, the children did not play around telegraph poles or anything like that. To children, the very idea of playing exactly as adults instructed—doing precisely what they were told to play—somehow seemed absurd.

So the children dashed off toward the square, clattering the glass marbles in their pockets. And before long, absorbed in their own games, they completely forgot about the lamp from earlier.

At dusk, Higashiichi returned home. In the corner of the back parlor, that lamp had been placed. However, if he said anything about the lamp, Grandpa might start grumbling at him again, so he kept quiet.

The tedious hours after supper arrived. Higashiichi alternately leaned against the chest of drawers, clattering the drawer handles, and went out to the shop to intently watch a bearded agricultural school teacher order a book with a difficult-sounding title like *The Theory and Practice of Radish Cultivation* from the clerk. Growing bored with such things, he returned once more to the back parlor. Confirming Grandpa’s absence, he sidled up to the lamp—removing its glass chimney, twisting a screw the size of a five-sen white copper coin to extend and retract the wick.

As he was tinkering with it quite earnestly, Grandpa found him again. But this time, Grandpa didn’t scold him. After ordering tea from the maid, he pulled out his pipe with a clunk and said...

“Higashi-bō, this lamp here—it’s something that brings back a lot of memories for Grandpa.” “I’d forgotten about it for ages, but today when Higashi-bō brought it out from the corner of the warehouse, all those old memories came rushing back.” “When you get old like this Grandpa, coming across things from the past—whether it’s a lamp or anything else—is such a joy.” Higashiichi stared blankly at his grandfather’s face. Since Grandpa had scolded him so harshly, he had thought Grandpa was angry, but it turned out Grandpa was actually delighted to have come across the old lamp.

“I’ll tell you an old story, so come here and sit down,” said Grandpa.

Since Higashiichi loved stories, he did as he was told and went to sit before Grandpa, but feeling somehow as though he were about to be lectured—and finding this position uncomfortable—he resolved to listen in the same posture he always adopted when hearing stories at home. In other words, he lay down, propped both legs up behind him, and occasionally slapped the soles of his feet together—a little trick of his.

Grandpa’s story went as follows.

About fifty years ago now—around the time of the Russo-Japanese War. In the village of Iwanari Shinden, there was a thirteen-year-old boy named Minosuke. Minosuke had no parents or siblings, nor any relatives at all—he was a complete orphan. So Minosuke did such things as running errands for other households, babysitting like a girl, pounding rice for people—anything a boy like him could manage—so that they would let him stay in the village.

However, Minosuke truly disliked living under the villagers' care like this. He had always thought that if he were to spend his life babysitting or pounding rice, there would be no point in having been born a man. A man must establish himself. But how was one to establish oneself? Minosuke barely managed to eat each day. He didn't have enough money to buy even a single book, and even if he had somehow scraped together the funds to purchase one, he wouldn't have had time to read it.

Minosuke secretly waited for a good opportunity to establish himself.

Then, one summer afternoon, Minosuke was asked to pull the lead rope of a rickshaw. At that time, there were always two or three rickshaw pullers in Iwanari Shinden. The reason was that visitors from Nagoya coming for sea cure (seawater bathing) would generally take the train to Handa and then be transported by rickshaw from Handa to Ōno and Shinmaiko on the western coast of the Chita Peninsula—with Iwanari Shinden lying precisely along that route. Since rickshaws were pulled by people, they did not run very fast. Moreover, since there was a mountain pass between Iwanari Shinden and Ōno, it took extra time. What’s more, the wheels of rickshaws in those days were heavy iron ones that rattled noisily. Therefore, hurried customers would pay double the fare to have two rickshaw pullers haul their vehicle. The ones who had asked Minosuke to pull the lead rope were also hurried summer guests.

Minosuke shouldered the rope tied to the rickshaw's long shafts and ran down the road under the scorching summer afternoon sun, chanting "heave-ho" with each stride. The unfamiliar labor proved excruciatingly hard. Yet Minosuke paid no heed to such hardships. He overflowed with curiosity. For he had never once set foot outside his village since gaining awareness of the world, knowing nothing of what towns lay beyond the mountain pass or what people dwelled there.

As the sun set and faint pale shapes of people moved through the blue dusk, the rickshaw entered the town of Ōno.

Minosuke saw various things for the first time in that town. First and foremost, the rows of large shops lining the streets were novel to Minosuke. In Minosuke’s village, there had been only one merchant’s shop. It was a tiny store that sold cheap sweets, straw sandals, thread-spooling tools, medicinal ointments, eye medicine stored in seashells, and nearly everything else commonly used in the village—and there was only one such shop. However, what surprised Minosuke most were the glass lamps glowing like flowers in each of those large shops. In Minosuke’s village, many houses went without light at night. In pitch-dark homes, people would grope around blindly with their hands, feeling their way to water jars, stone mortars, and central pillars. In slightly wealthier households, wives used paper lanterns they had brought as bridal trousseaus. These paper lanterns had oil-filled dishes within paper-covered frames; when a small flame—no larger than a cherry blossom bud—was lit on the wick protruding from the dish’s edge, warm tangerine-colored light would filter through the paper, faintly illuminating the surroundings. Yet no paper lantern could begin to match the brightness of the lamps Minosuke had seen in Ōno.

Moreover, the lamps were made of glass—still a rarity in those days. Compared to paper lanterns made of paper that would easily get sooty or tear—this alone seemed far better to Minosuke. Because of these lamps, the entire town of Ōno felt as bright as the Dragon Palace or something like it. Minosuke even came to think he didn’t want to return to his own village anymore. No one likes returning from a bright place to a dark one.

After receiving his fifteen-sen errand fee, Minosuke parted ways with the rickshaw and wandered through this seaside town—where the ceaseless sound of waves mingled with his steps—peering into unfamiliar shops and gazing in awe at the beautifully bright lamps, as though intoxicated. At the fabric store, Mr. Clerk was spreading out a bolt of fabric dyed with large camellia flowers under the lamp’s light to show a customer. At the rice shop, the apprentice was picking out bad adzuki beans one by one under the lamp. At another house, a girl scattered seashells that shone white under the lamp’s light while playing marbles. At another shop, workers threaded small beads onto strings to make Buddhist prayer beads. Under the lamps’ vivid blue light, these scenes of people’s lives looked beautifully nostalgic, as though glimpsed in a storybook or magic lantern world.

Minosuke had heard many times before that “society had progressed through Civilization and Enlightenment,” but now he felt he truly understood what Civilization and Enlightenment meant for the first time. As he walked, Minosuke came before a shop where various lamps hung in great numbers. This must be a shop that sells lamps. Minosuke hesitated for a while in front of the store, gripping his fifteen sen tightly, but soon resolved himself and strode purposefully inside.

“Sell me one of those things.” Minosuke pointed at the lamp and said. He didn’t yet know the word “lamp.”

The shopkeeper took down the large hanging lamp that Minosuke had pointed at, but it couldn’t be bought for fifteen sen. “Cut me a deal.”

“Cut me a deal,” said Minosuke. “I can’t just drop the price like that,” replied the shopkeeper. “Sell it to me at wholesale price.” Minosuke often went to the village grocery store to sell the straw sandals he made, so he knew that goods had wholesale and retail prices, and that wholesale was cheaper. For example, the village grocery store would buy the gourd-shaped straw sandals Minosuke made at the wholesale price of 1 sen 5 rin and sell them to rickshaw pullers at the retail price of 2 sen 5 rin. The lamp shop owner, startled that some unknown boy had said such a thing, stared intently at Minosuke’s face. And he said.

“If you’re asking me to sell at wholesale prices—well, I could do that for a lamp-selling business, but I can’t offer wholesale rates to every single customer.” “So if they’re a lamp seller, you’ll give ’em wholesale price—huh?”

“Yeah.” “If that’s how it is—I’m a lamp seller.” “Sell it to me at wholesale price.”

The shopkeeper laughed, still holding the lamp. “You’re a lamp seller? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

“It’s true, Mister.” “I’m really going to become a lamp seller from now on.” “Look, so I’m askin’ ya—just sell me one at wholesale price today.” “When I come next time, I’ll buy a whole bunch all at once.” The shopkeeper had been laughing at first, but moved by Minosuke’s earnest demeanor, he asked him about his circumstances in detail and, “Alright then, I’ll sell you this one at wholesale price.” “Truth is, even at wholesale, this lamp can’t be sold for fifteen sen, but I’m impressed by your enthusiasm.” “I’ll cut you a break.” “But in return, you’d better run your business right.” “Take our lamps and go on selling them.”

With that, he handed the lamp to Minosuke. Minosuke was taught the basics of handling the lamp, then lit it in place of a paper lantern and set off for his village.

Even on the dark mountain pass winding through thickets and pine forests, Minosuke was no longer afraid. Because he was carrying a lamp as bright as a flower.

Another lamp was burning within Minosuke’s heart. In his dark village lagging behind in Civilization and Enlightenment, the lamp of hope—to sell this marvelous tool of civilization and brighten the villagers’ lives— Minosuke’s new business didn’t thrive at all in the beginning. The villagers didn’t trust anything new. After much deliberation, Minosuke took his lamp to the village’s sole store and pleaded, “I’ll lend this to you for free, so please use it for a while.”

The grocery store matron reluctantly agreed, drove a nail into the shop’s ceiling to hang the lamp, and began lighting it that very evening. About five days later, when Minosuke went to collect payment for his straw sandals, the grocery store matron smiled and said, “This is so convenient and bright—customers keep coming even at night, and I don’t make mistakes with change anymore. I’ve taken a liking to it, so I’ll buy it.” Moreover, she informed Minosuke that there were already three more orders from villagers who had just come to appreciate the lamp’s benefits. Minosuke leapt for joy with delight.

As soon as he received payment for the lamp and straw sandals from the grocery store matron, he immediately set off for Ono as if running. Then, after explaining the situation to the lamp shop owner and borrowing to cover the shortfall, he bought three lamps, brought them back, and sold them to those who had placed orders. From then on, Minosuke's business took off.

At first, he would only go to Ono to buy when he had received orders, but once a little money had accumulated, he began buying large quantities even without orders.

And now he had already stopped doing errands and babysitting for other households, devoting himself solely to the lamp-selling business. Fashioning a cart with a frame like a clothes-drying rack, hanging it full of lamps and glass chimneys, and accompanied by the cool sound of clinking glass, Minosuke set off to sell in his own village and nearby hamlets. Minosuke had made money, but beyond that, he found this business deeply satisfying. Into houses that had been dark until now, the lamps Minosuke sold were gradually being lit. In the dark houses, Minosuke felt as though he were lighting one bright flame of Civilization and Enlightenment after another.

Minosuke was now a young man. Until then, he hadn’t had a house of his own and had been allowed to live in the leaning-eaved shed at the Village Headman’s place, but having saved a little money, he built his own house. Then, as there was someone who cared for him, he also took a wife. One day, while promoting lamps in another village, Minosuke mentioned what he had previously heard from the Village Headman—“Under a lamp, you can lay a newspaper on the tatami and read it, see?”—whereupon one of the customers retorted, “Really?” Disliking falsehoods, Minosuke resolved to test it himself. He obtained old newspapers from the Village Headman’s place and spread them out beneath a lamp.

What the Village Headman had said was indeed true. The tiny characters in the newspaper were clearly visible one by one under the lamp’s light. "I haven’t lied to conduct my business," Minosuke muttered to himself. However, even though the characters were clearly visible under the lamp’s light, it did Minosuke no good. It was because he couldn’t read. "With lamps, things have become visible enough—but if I can’t read, it ain’t true Civilization and Enlightenment yet."

Having said this, Minosuke then went to the Village Headman’s place every night to be taught characters. Due to his diligence, within just a year, Minosuke became able to read as well as any villager who had graduated from ordinary elementary school. And Minosuke learned to read books.

Minosuke was now a man in his prime. There were two children in the house. "I’ve finally managed to stand on my own two feet with this. Though I haven’t yet made my mark," he would sometimes reflect, each time feeling a sense of satisfaction.

Now then, one day, when Minosuke came to the town of Ono to procure lamp wicks, he saw five or six laborers digging holes by the roadside and erecting thick, tall poles. Near the top of these poles were attached two arm-like wooden beams, upon which sat several white ceramic daruma-like figurines. Wondering what purpose these strange things erected by the roadside served, he walked a little further and found another tall pole of the same kind standing by the path, its crossbeams now occupied by sparrows chirping.

These strange tall poles stood along the roadside at intervals of about fifty meters.

Minosuke finally asked someone drying udon in the sun. The udon shop worker replied, “They’re installin’ what they call electricity this time ’round, I hear. And then lamps’ll be no use anymore,” he answered.

Minosuke couldn’t quite grasp it. It was because he knew nothing at all about electricity. It seemed to be a replacement for lamps—but if that were true, then this thing called electricity must be some form of light. "If they want lighting," Minosuke thought, "they should just light them inside their houses—there’s no need to erect such monstrous poles along the roadside in droves."

About a month later, when Minosuke went to Ono again, the thick poles recently erected along the roadside now had several black rope-like things strung across them. The black ropes were wrapped once around the heads of the daruma-like figurines perched on the poles' crossbeams, strung to the next pole, then wrapped again around the figurines' heads and strung onward—continuing endlessly in this manner. When he looked closely, he noticed that from certain poles, two black ropes each split off at the daruma-like figurines' heads and connected to the eaves of houses.

“Heh, I thought this thing they call electricity was supposed to give light, but this ain’t nothin’ but ropes,” Minosuke mocked to himself. “Just makes a fine perch for sparrows and swallows.” As he entered the familiar amazake shop while jeering inwardly, he found the large lamp that normally hung above the central table in the earthen-floored area had been relocated to the side wall. In its place hung what resembled a shrunken version of that lamp—a peculiar-looking fixture lacking any kerosene reservoir, dangling from the ceiling by what seemed to be thick ropes.

“What the—you’ve gone and hung up some weird contraption here, haven’t you? Hasn’t that lamp gone and broken down on you or somethin’?” Minosuke asked. Then the amazake shop owner replied, “That’s what they call ‘lectricity’ they’ve gone and strung up now. Ain’t no fire risk, bright as day, don’t need no matches—downright handy thing, this ‘lectricity.” he answered. “Hmph, you’ve gone and hung up some weird contraption here. With this, your amazake shop’s gone and lost all its spirit. You’ll get fewer customers too, I bet.”

The amazake shop owner, having realized that his interlocutor was a lamp seller, no longer spoke of the electric light’s convenience.

“Hey there, Amazake shop owner. “Look there – at that spot on the ceiling. “All those years of lamp soot have turned just that patch pitch black. “The lamp had settled in there proper-like, I tell you. “Just ’cause this electricity thing’s come along now as some newfangled convenience – being yanked down from its rightful place and stuck in some wall corner like that – why, it’s downright pitiful for the lamp.”

In this manner, Minosuke championed the lamp and refused to acknowledge any merits of electric lights.

Now then, before long evening fell, and even though no one had so much as a single match, the amazake shop suddenly became as bright as midday, startling Minosuke. The light was so dazzling that Minosuke involuntarily turned to look behind him. “Mr. Minosuke, this is electricity!” Minosuke clenched his teeth and stared at the electric light for a long time. He wore an expression as though glaring at an enemy. He had stared so hard that his eyeballs ached.

“Mr. Minosuke, I shouldn’t put it this way, but lamps can’t hold a candle to these.” “Why don’t you stick your head outside and take a look at the town street?” Minosuke sullenly opened the entrance’s shoji and gazed out at the street. Every house and every shop had bright electric lights lit just like at the amazake shop. The light overflowed inside the houses and spilled out even onto the road. To Minosuke, who was accustomed to lamps, the light was too dazzling. Minosuke, heaving his shoulders in frustration, gazed at this too for a long time.

A formidable enemy for lamps has come into being, he thought. Minosuke had often spoken of “Civilization and Enlightenment” in the past, but he couldn’t comprehend that electric lights were a more advanced tool of that very Civilization and Enlightenment than lamps. Even a wise person may lose their ability to judge things correctly when faced with the prospect of losing their livelihood. From that day onward, Minosuke secretly feared that electric lights would come to be installed in his own village. If electric lights came to be lit, the villagers would all either hang their lamps in the corners of their walls like that amazake shop owner had done or store them away in the second floors of their storehouses. The lamp shop business would no longer be needed.

But even lamps had been quite troublesome to introduce to the village, so when it came to electric lights, the villagers would likely be too frightened to readily accept them—or so Minosuke reassured himself on one hand.

But before long, when Minosuke heard the rumor—"They'll decide at the upcoming village assembly whether to install electric lights in the village"—he felt as though he'd been struck on the crown of his head. "The formidable enemy has come at last," he thought.

At this, Minosuke could no longer remain silent. He voiced vehement opposition to electric lights among the villagers. “Electricity, you see, is something they haul through long wires from deep in the mountains—I guarantee foxes and raccoon dogs’ll come crawling along those wires at night to wreck havoc on the fields round here.” It was such absurd nonsense that Minosuke would spout to protect his accustomed livelihood. But whenever he said such things, he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of guilt.

When he was informed that after the village assembly had concluded, it had finally been decided to bring electric lights to Iwanashi Shinden village as well, Minosuke once again felt as though he had been struck on the crown of his head. I can’t keep taking blows like this over and over—my head’s going to give out, he thought. That was exactly what happened.

His mind had gone off-kilter. For three days after the village assembly, Minosuke slept with a futon pulled over his head even during the daytime. During that time, his mind had become deranged.

Minosuke desperately wanted to resent someone. So he decided to resent the Village Headman who had chaired the village assembly. And he thought up various reasons why he must resent the Village Headman. Even those who are usually wise may lose sound judgment when teetering on losing their livelihood. They come to harbor utterly unreasonable grudges.

It was a warm moonlit night by the rapeseed fields. From some distant village came the dull thud of drums being struck in preparation for a spring festival.

Minosuke did not take the road. He moved now running hunched like a weasel through ditches, now pushing through bushes like a stray dog. When one doesn’t want to be seen by others, this is how people act. Having long been indebted to the Village Headman’s household, he was thoroughly familiar with its layout. That the most convenient place to set fire was the thatched-roof cowshed was something he had already considered when leaving home.

The main house had already settled into a deep, quiet sleep. The cowshed was silent too. But silence alone couldn’t tell you whether the cows were sleeping or awake. Cows stay hushed whether they’re up or down in their straw. Not that it mattered one whit for fire-setting if they had their eyes open—awake cattle make no fuss anyway.

Minosuke had brought a flint striker tool from the time before matches existed instead of matches. When he left the house, he had searched for matches around the hearth but, for some reason unable to find any, gratefully brought along the flint striker tool his hand happened upon. Minosuke began striking fire with the flint striker. Sparks flew, but whether because the tinder was damp or whatnot, it refused to catch fire at all. Minosuke thought flint strikers weren't very convenient tools. Despite producing no flame, it kept making loud clattering noises—this would surely wake anyone sleeping.

“Tch,” Minosuke clicked his tongue in frustration. “I should’ve brought matches. “This damn flint striker’s just an old-fashioned piece of junk—no use when it really counts!” Having said that, Minosuke suddenly took notice of his own words. “Outdated junk—useless when it counts… just outdated junk, useless…”

Just as the moon emerged to brighten the sky, Minosuke's mind began to clear and grow bright with these words as their spark. Minosuke now understood with crystalline clarity where he had erred—lamps had already become antiquated tools. The world had transformed into one of electric lights—these newer, vastly more convenient implements. That was how thoroughly society had opened up. Civilization and Enlightenment had progressed. If Minosuke too was a son of Japan's soil, then he ought rightfully to rejoice in how far Japan had advanced.

To obstruct societal progress simply because my old livelihood was vanishing, to resent someone who’d done me no wrong and try to set fire to their property—what a shameful spectacle it made of a man. If society advances and old livelihoods become unnecessary, shouldn’t a man resolutely discard that trade and embrace a new business that benefits the world?— Minosuke immediately returned home.

And then what did he do? He woke his sleeping wife and made her fill every lamp in the house with kerosene. His wife asked Minosuke what he meant to do at such a late hour, but Minosuke kept silent—knowing she would surely stop him if he revealed his plans. The lamps numbered about fifty in all, varying in size. Each one they filled with kerosene. Then just as when setting out for business, he hung the lamps on his cart and went outside. This time he remembered to bring matches.

Near where the road approached the western pass, there was a large pond called Handa Pond. The water, brimming with spring's fullness, hazed and shimmered like a silver plate beneath the moon. Along the pond's edge, Hanno trees and willows stood as if peering into the water.

Minosuke had chosen this deserted spot to come to. Now, what would Minosuke do? Minosuke lit the lamps. Each time he lit one, he would hang it on a tree branch at the edge of the pond. Mixing small and large ones alike, he hung them all over the tree. When one tree couldn’t hold them all, he hung them on the next. In this way, he finally hung all the lamps on three trees.

It was a windless night, and each lamp burned steadily without flickering, making the surroundings as bright as day. The fish drawn by the light approached, glinting in the water like knife blades. “This is how I quit my business.”

“This is how I quit my business,” Minosuke said to himself alone. However, finding it hard to leave, he stood for a long time with both hands hanging limply, gazing at the tree now hung with lamps like clusters of bells. Lamps, lamps, dear old lamps. Lamps that had grown familiar through years and years. “This is how I quit my business.”

Then Minosuke came to the path on this side of the pond. The lamps were still all lit on the opposite shore. About fifty of them were all lit. And on the water as well, about fifty inverted lamps were lit. Stopping, Minosuke gazed there for a long time as well. Lamps, lamps, dear old lamps. Eventually, Minosuke crouched down and picked up a stone from his feet. And, taking aim at the largest burning lamp, he threw it with all his might. With a shattering crash, one large flame went out.

“Your time has passed. The world has moved on.”

Minosuke said. And then he picked up another stone. The second-largest lamp shattered with a crash and went out. “The world has advanced. The age of electricity has come.”

When he shattered the third lamp, tears welled up in Minosuke’s eyes for some reason, and he could no longer take aim at the lamps.

And so Minosuke quit his former business. Then he went into town and started a new trade. He became a bookseller.

* “Minosuke is still running a bookstore even now.” “Though now that I’ve gotten quite old, my son’s been the one running the shop these days.”

With that, Higashiichi’s grandpa concluded his story and sipped his cooled tea. Since Minosuke was Higashiichi’s grandfather, Higashiichi stared intently at his grandfather’s face. Before he knew it, Higashiichi had repositioned himself to sit facing Grandpa and was placing his hands on Grandpa’s knees.

“So, what happened to the remaining forty-seven lamps?”

Higashiichi asked. “I don’t know.” “The next day, a traveler might’ve found them and taken them away.”

“So then, did our house end up without even a single lamp left?”

“Yep, not a single one left. This pedestal lamp was the only one that remained.” Grandpa said while looking at the lamp Higashiichi had brought out during the day.

“That was a loss, huh.” “Forty-seven of them got taken by someone.” Higashiichi said. “Yeah, it was a loss. When I think about it now, I feel there was no need to do such a thing. Even after electric lights came to Iwanari Shinden, around fifty lamps still sold well. In that small village called Fukatani south of Iwanari Shinden, they still use lamps even now—there were other villages that kept using them until much later too. But I tell you, I was full of vigor back then. When an idea struck me, I’d just do it without thinking deeply.”

“You were foolish, huh.”

Higashiichi said bluntly, since he was his grandson. “Yeah, I was foolish. But, Higashi-bō—”

Grandpa tightly gripped his pipe on his lap and continued.

“My way of doing things was a bit foolish, but my way of quitting the business—though I say so myself—I think was rather splendid.” “What I mean is this: as Japan progresses, when your old business stops being useful, you discard it decisively.” “Never grubbily clinging to an outdated business forever, never saying the past when your business thrived was better, never resenting the world’s progress—you must never do such spineless things.”

Higashiichi remained silent, gazing for a long time at his grandpa’s small yet spirited face. After a while, he said.

“Grandpa was admirable, huh.”

And then, as if reminiscing, he looked at the old lamp beside him.