Pathway to Japanese Literature

It was a lamp of unusual shape. The base was a thick bamboo tube about eighty centimeters long, on top of which was attached a small part where the fire was lit, and the chimney was a slender glass tube. To those seeing it for the first time, it scarcely seemed like a lamp at all.

So everyone mistook it for an old-fashioned rifle. "What’s this? A rifle?" said Sōhachi, the demon. Tōichi’s grandfather also couldn’t tell what it was for a while. After staring at it through his glasses for some time, he finally realized what it was.

When he realized it was a lamp, Tōichi's grandfather began scolding the children like this:

“Hey now, what are you taking out?” “Truly, children are such that if you leave them to play quietly, you never know what they’ll take out—there’s no letting your guard down with them, they’re like thieving cats.” “Hey now, bring that here, and you all go outside to play.” “If you go outside, there’s plenty to play with—utility poles or whatever else, I tell you.”

It was only when scolded in this manner that children first came to understand they had done something wrong. So Tōichi, who had brought out the lamp, along with the neighborhood children who hadn’t taken anything out at all, all filed out to the road outside with looks of having done something wrong.

Outside, the spring midday wind would occasionally sweep up dust from the road as it passed, and in the wake of a lumbering oxcart, white butterflies would flit busily through its tracks. Sure enough, utility poles stood scattered here and there. Yet the children did not play with such things as utility poles. To children, playing exactly as adults instruct—following those commands to the letter—somehow feels utterly absurd.

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

At dusk, Tōichi returned home. In the corner of the back parlor sat that lamp. But fearing Grandfather might scold him again if he mentioned it, he kept silent.

The tedious time after supper arrived. Tōichi leaned against the chest of drawers, clattering the drawer handles at times, then went out to the shop to intently watch a bearded agricultural school teacher order a book with an intimidating title like *The Theory and Practice of Radish Cultivation* from the clerk. When he grew tired of these activities, he would return to the back parlor again, verify that Grandfather wasn't there, sidle up to the lamp, try removing its glass chimney, or twist a screw about the size of a five-sen white copper coin to extend and retract the lamp's wick.

Just as he was getting seriously engrossed in fiddling with it, he was discovered by Grandfather again. But this time Grandfather did not scold him. After telling the maid to prepare tea, he pulled out his pipe with a clink and said:

“Tō-bō, this lamp here—it holds deep memories for Grandfather." “I’d forgotten about it for a long time, but since you brought it out from the corner of the storehouse today, Tō-bō, I’ve been reminded of old times again.” “When you get old like this grandpa here, coming across things from the past—whether it’s a lamp or anything else—it’s such a joy.”

Tōichi was staring blankly at Grandfather’s face. Because Grandfather had scolded him so harshly, Tōichi thought he must be angry, but in fact, he was overjoyed to have encountered the old lamp.

“I’ll tell you an old story—come sit here,” Grandfather said. Tōichi loved stories and obediently sat before him as instructed, though feeling uncomfortably like he was about to receive a lecture rather than a tale. He settled into his customary listening posture—the one he always adopted at home when stories began. Which meant flopping onto his stomach with both legs kicked up behind him, periodically clapping his bare soles together in that peculiar habit of his.

Grandfather's story went as follows.

About fifty years ago now, right around the time of the Russo-Japanese War.

In the village of Iwanashi Nitta, there was a thirteen-year-old boy named Minosuke. Minosuke had neither parents nor siblings, nor any relatives at all—he was a complete orphan. So Minosuke would run errands for other households, babysit like a girl, pound rice for people, and do whatever else a boy like him could manage, thereby being allowed to remain in the village. However, Minosuke truly disliked having to live this way under the villagers' care. If he were to spend his whole life babysitting and pounding rice, he always thought, then there’d be no point in having been born a man.

A man must make his way in the world. But how was one to make his way? Minosuke barely managed to eat each day. He hadn’t had enough money to buy even a single book, and even if he had managed to buy one with what little he had, he wouldn’t have had time to read it. Minosuke had been secretly waiting in his heart 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 Iwanashi Nitta. Visitors coming from Nagoya for sea cures (seawater bathing) would generally take the train to Handa and then be pulled by rickshaw from Handa to Ōno and Shinmaigo on the western coast of the Chita Peninsula, for Iwanashi Nitta happened to lie along that very route.

Rickshaws, being pulled by people, didn't move very quickly. Moreover, there was a mountain pass between Iwanashi Nitta and Ōno, which made the journey take even longer. What's more, the wheels of rickshaws in those days were heavy iron rings that clattered noisily. Therefore, hurrying customers would pay double the fare to have two rickshaw pullers haul them. The person who had asked Minosuke to pull the lead rope was likewise a hurrying summer guest. Minosuke shouldered the rope tied to the rickshaw's long handle and ran down the road under the scorching summer setting sun, chanting "heave-ho" with each step. The unfamiliar work proved excruciatingly difficult. Yet Minosuke paid no mind to such pain. He was filled with curiosity. For Minosuke had never once left the village since gaining awareness of the world, and thus knew nothing of what towns lay beyond the mountain pass or what people lived there.

As dusk fell and people moved like pale ghosts through the blue twilight, the rickshaw entered Ōno town.

Minosuke saw various things for the first time in that town. The rows of large shops lining the streets struck Minosuke as most novel. In Minosuke's village there had been only one trading house. A single small shop selling cheap sweets, straw sandals, thread-spooling implements, medicinal plasters, eye drops in seashell containers - and most other things commonly used in the village. But what astonished Minosuke most were the glass lamps bright as flowers that each of those large shops kept alight.

In Minosuke's village, many houses had no light at night. In the pitch-dark houses, people would grope around like the blind, feeling their way to locate water jars, stone mortars, and central pillars. In slightly more luxurious homes, the mistress would use a paper lantern she brought when she married. The paper lantern had paper stretched around four sides enclosing an oil-filled dish; when the small flame—about the size of a cherry blossom bud—burning on the wick that peeked out from the dish's edge would cast warm tangerine-colored light through the surrounding paper, making the nearby area slightly brighter. However, no matter what kind of paper lantern it was, none could match the brightness of the lamps Minosuke had seen in Ōno town.

Moreover, the lamps were made of glass—still a rarity for that time. Compared to paper lanterns made of paper that easily became sooty or tore, this alone seemed like a good thing to Minosuke. Because of these lamps, the entire town of Ōno felt as brightly illuminated as a mythical underwater palace or something of the sort. Minosuke even came to think that he didn’t want to return to his own village. No one likes returning from a bright place to a dark one.

After receiving his payment of fifteen sen and parting ways with the rickshaw, Minosuke wandered through this seaside town where waves ceaselessly crashed—as if drunk on discovery—peering into unfamiliar shops and marveling at radiant lamps that glowed like captured stars. At the fabric store, a clerk spread out bolts of cloth dyed with camellia blossoms beneath a lamp's glow to show customers. At the grain merchant's, an apprentice sorted through azuki beans under lamplight, plucking out flawed ones grain by grain. In one home, a girl played a shell-tossing game with pearlescent fragments scattered across her luminous circle. At another shop, deft hands threaded tiny beads onto strings to craft Buddhist prayer beads. Bathed in that cerulean lamplight, these ordinary scenes took on storybook beauty—each vignette glowing like illustrations from some enchanted tome of daily life.

Minosuke had heard many times before that "the world had opened up through Civilization and Enlightenment," but now, for the first time, he felt he had come to understand what Civilization and Enlightenment truly meant.

As he walked, Minosuke came before a shop that had various lamps hung in abundance. This must be a shop that sells lamps. Minosuke hesitated for a while in front of the store, gripping the fifteen sen tightly, but soon resolved himself and strode resolutely inside. “Sell me 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 to, but it couldn’t be bought for fifteen sen. “Give me a break on the price.” Minosuke said. “I can’t go that low.” the shopkeeper replied. “Sell it to me at wholesale price.” Minosuke often went to the village grocery store to have them buy the straw sandals he made, so he knew that goods had wholesale and retail prices, and that wholesale prices were cheaper. For example, the village grocery store would purchase the gourd-shaped straw sandals Minosuke made at the wholesale price of 1 sen and 5 rin and sell them to rickshaw pullers at the retail price of 2 sen and 5 rin.

The lamp shop owner stared fixedly at Minosuke’s face, startled that this unknown boy from who-knows-where had said such a thing. “You say ‘Sell it at wholesale price’—well, if you were a lamp-selling business I could do that,” he replied. “But I can’t sell at wholesale to individual customers.” “If it’s a lamp seller, you’ll sell at wholesale price?” “Right.” “Then I’m a lamp seller.” “Sell it to me at wholesale price.”

The shopkeeper burst out laughing while still holding the lamp. “You’re a lamp seller? “Ha ha ha ha!” “It’s true, Mister. “I’m truly going to become a lamp seller starting now. “Look, so I’m askin’—just one today, sell it to me at wholesale price. “Next time I come, I’ll buy a whole bunch all at once.” The shopkeeper had been laughing at first, but moved by Minosuke’s earnest demeanor, he inquired at length about his circumstances and then—

“Alright then, I’ll sell you this one at wholesale price.” “Truth be told, even at wholesale price, this lamp shouldn’t go for fifteen sen, but I’m taken by your grit.” “I’ll cut you a deal.” “Just see you run the business proper-like in return.” “Take our lamps – sell ’em far and wide.”

With that, he handed the lamp to Minosuke. Minosuke had been 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 felt no fear. For he carried a lamp bright as a blossom.

Within Minosuke’s chest, another lamp had been lit—the lamp of hope that would brighten his villagers’ lives by selling this marvelous tool of civilization to his own dark village that had fallen behind in Civilization and Enlightenment.

Minosuke’s new business did not thrive at all in the beginning. The farmers distrusted anything new. Therefore, after much deliberation, Minosuke took his lamp to the only grocery store in the village and pleaded, “I’ll lend this to you for free—please use it for a while.” The grocery store matriarch reluctantly agreed, drove nails into the ceiling of her store to hang the lamp, and lit it that very evening.

About five days later, when Minosuke went to have them buy his straw sandals, the grocery store matriarch smiled and said, “This is mighty convenient and bright—even at night customers keep coming, and I don’t make mistakes with change anymore. I’ve taken a liking to it, so I’ll buy it.” “What’s more,” she added, “three more orders came from villagers who’ve just figured out how good these lamps are.” Minosuke leapt for joy.

After receiving payment for the lamp and straw sandals from the grocery store matriarch, he immediately ran off toward Ōno. Then, after explaining the situation to the lamp shop owner and borrowing what he still lacked to purchase three lamps, he sold them to those who had placed orders. From that point onward, Minosuke’s business flourished. At first, he would only go to Ōno to buy lamps when he received orders, but once he had saved a little money, he began purchasing them in bulk even without advance requests.

And now, he had stopped running errands for other households and babysitting, devoting himself entirely to just his lamp-selling business. Having prepared a cart with a frame like a clothes-drying rack, hung it full of lamps and chimneys, and while making the cool sound of clinking glass, Minosuke went to sell in his own village and nearby villages. Minosuke made money, but separate from that, this business was gratifying. The lamps Minosuke sold were gradually being lit in homes that had been dark until now. In the dark homes, Minosuke felt as though he were lighting the bright flames of Civilization and Enlightenment one by one.

Minosuke had now become a young man. Until then, he had no house of his own and had been living in the leaning shed under the eaves of the Village Headman's residence, but having saved some money, he built his own house. Then, when someone came forward to care for him, he took a wife. One day, while promoting lamps in another village, Minosuke repeated what he had previously heard from the Village Headman—"Under a lamp's light, you can read a newspaper spread out on tatami mats"—whereupon one of the customers countered, "Is that true?" Being averse to falsehoods, Minosuke decided to verify this himself. He obtained old newspapers from the Village Headman's place and spread them beneath a lamp.

As expected, what the Village Headman had said was true. The newspaper’s tiny characters became clearly visible one by one under the lamp’s light. “I didn’t tell no lies to do business,” Minosuke muttered to himself. Yet even with the characters clear under the lamp’s glow, it did Minosuke no good. He couldn’t read them. “Lamps make things bright enough to see,” he declared, “but if you can’t read the words, that still ain’t true Civilization and Enlightenment.”

Having said that, Minosuke went to the Village Headman's place every night to be taught how to read. Through his diligence, within a year Minosuke could read as well as any villager who had completed elementary school. And Minosuke learned to read books.

Minosuke was now a man in his prime. There were two children in the house. “With this, I’ve finally managed to stand on my own.” “Although I haven’t yet reached the point of truly establishing myself,” he would sometimes think, and each time, he felt a sense of satisfaction in his heart.

Now then, one day when Minosuke came to Ōno town to procure lamp wicks, he saw five or six laborers digging holes by the roadside and erecting thick, long poles. Atop these poles were attached two arm-like wooden beams, and on these crossarms sat several white ceramic objects resembling daruma dolls. Wondering what purpose these strange things erected by the roadside served, he walked a little further ahead to find another tall pole of the same kind standing by the path, where sparrows perched on its crossarms chirping.

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

Minosuke finally asked a person drying udon in the sun. “Well, this thing called electricity’s gettin’ installed now. So lamps ain’t gonna be needed no more, y’see,” answered the udon shop owner.

Minosuke couldn’t quite grasp it. He knew nothing about electricity at all. It seemed to be something that would replace lamps, but if that were the case, then electricity must be a form of light. If it was light, all they needed was to keep it lit inside their homes—there was no reason to erect such enormous poles all along the roads, Minosuke thought. About a month later, when Minosuke went to Ōno again, he saw that several black rope-like things had been strung across the thick poles by the roadside that had been erected earlier. The black ropes were wrapped once around the daruma-like heads sitting on the crossarms of the poles and stretched to the next pole; there again wrapped once around the daruma-like heads and stretched to the next pole, continuing endlessly in this manner.

When he looked carefully, he noticed that from certain poles, two black ropes each branched off at the daruma-like heads and connected to the eaves of houses. “Heh. I thought this ‘lectric light business was s’posed to be some kinda light source,” Minosuke scoffed, “but this here’s just ropes! A fine restin’ spot for sparrows ’n swallows—that’s all it is!” When Minosuke entered his acquaintance’s amazake shop alone—still muttering derisively—the large lamp that had always hung above the earthen-floored area’s central dining table now stood relocated near a side wall. In its place dangled a peculiar contraption: something resembling a lamp shrunk beyond reason, devoid of any oil reservoir, suspended from the ceiling by what looked like brawny cables.

“What’s this? You’ve gone and hung up some weird contraption!” “Did that lamp go bad or somethin’, huh?” Minosuke asked. Then the amazake shop owner replied, “That there’s this newfangled electricity they’ve gone and installed.” “It’s got no risk of fires, bright as can be, no need for matches—quite a handy thing.” answered.

“Heh, what a ridiculous thing you’ve gone and hung up here. With this, your amazake shop’s become all out of sorts. Customers’ll drop off too, you know.” The Amazake Shop Owner, having realized his counterpart was a lamp seller, no longer spoke of the electric light’s convenience. “Hey there, Amazake Shop Owner old man. Take a look at that spot on the ceiling. Years of lamp soot have turned that place pitch black, you know. The lamp had already settled into that spot. Just because this convenient thing called electricity has come along now—to be taken down from there and hung in some corner of the wall like that—it’s pitiful for the lamp.”

In this way, Minosuke took the lamp's side and refused to acknowledge any merits of electric light.

Now then, evening soon fell, and even though no one had so much as a single match, the Amazake Shop Owner’s store suddenly became as bright as midday, startling Minosuke. The light was so bright that Minosuke nearly turned to look behind him involuntarily. “Minosuke-san, this here’s electric light.” Minosuke clenched his teeth and stared at the electric light for a long time. He wore a look as though confronting an enemy. He had stared so hard that his eyeballs ached.

“Minosuke-san, no offense meant, but lamps can’t hold a candle to this.” “Just poke your head outside and see how the town streets look.”

Minosuke wordlessly slid open the entrance’s shoji screen and gazed out at the street. Every house and shop had bright electric lights lit, just like at the Amazake Shop. Light overflowed from indoors, spilling out onto the road itself. To Minosuke—accustomed to lamps—the illumination proved unbearably glaring. Heaving his shoulders in bitter frustration, Minosuke stared at this spectacle for a long while. A formidable rival for lamps has come into being, he thought. Though Minosuke had frequently championed “Civilization and Enlightenment” before, he couldn’t grasp that electric lights represented a more advanced instrument of that very progress than lamps ever had. Even sensible people lose their capacity for sound judgment when facing potential ruin of their livelihood.

From that day onward, Minosuke had secretly feared electric lights would come to be installed in his village too. If electric lights were lit, the villagers would all either hang their lamps in some corner of the wall like that Amazake Shop Owner had done or stow them away in the storage loft. The lamp business would no longer be needed. Yet Minosuke found some reassurance in the thought that even bringing lamps into the village had been quite troublesome, so when it came to electric lights, the villagers would likely be too frightened to readily accept them.

However, when Minosuke soon heard the rumor—“At the upcoming village meeting, they’ll decide whether to bring electric lights to the village”—he felt as though he’d been struck on the crown of his head. "The formidable enemy has finally come," he thought. Therefore, Minosuke could no longer remain silent. Among the villagers, he vehemently spread opposition to electric lights. “Electricity’s this thing they drag in with long wires from deep in the mountains, I tell ya. Come night, those foxes ’n raccoons’ll crawl along them lines and wreck all the fields round here—mark my words.”

It was to protect his familiar trade that Minosuke said such nonsense. Whenever he said those words, he felt a twinge of guilt—though he pressed on regardless.

When Minosuke learned that after concluding the village council meeting, they had finally decided to bring electric lights to Iwanashi Shinden Village too, he felt as if he'd been struck on the crown of his head again. "I can't keep taking these blows to the head like this," he thought. "My mind will snap."

That was exactly what happened. His mind had snapped. For three days after the village meeting, Minosuke slept with his futon pulled over his head even during daytime. In that span, his mental state had gone completely awry. Minosuke felt desperate to resent someone. Therefore, he resolved to resent the Village Headman who had chaired the village meeting. Then he concocted various reasons why he must resent the Village Headman. Even those normally clear-headed lose proper judgment when teetering on losing their livelihood. People come to nurture utterly groundless grudges.

It was a warm moonlit night by the rapeseed flower field. From some distant village, the thudding of drums being struck in preparation for a spring festival could be heard.

Minosuke did not take the road. Now he ran hunched through the ditch like a weasel, now he pushed through the thicket like a stray dog. When people don’t want to be seen by others, this is how they act.

Having received help at the Village Headman’s house for a long time, he knew its layout well. That the thatched-roof cow shed was the most convenient place to set fire was something he had already considered when leaving home. The main house had already fallen into silent slumber. The cowshed was quiet too. Just because it was quiet didn’t mean you could tell whether the cow was asleep or awake. Because whether awake or asleep, a cow is quiet either way. Of course, even if the cow was awake, starting a fire wouldn’t pose any particular problem.

Minosuke had brought flint tools—used in his own time before matches existed—instead of matches. When leaving his house, he had searched for matches near the hearth but couldn't find them for some reason; fortunately finding them by touch, he had brought the flint tools instead. Minosuke began striking fire with the flint. Sparks flew, but perhaps because the tinder was damp, it refused to catch fire at all. Minosuke thought that flint tools were terribly inconvenient. Despite producing no flame, they made loud click-clacking noises—enough to wake anyone sleeping.

“Tch,” Minosuke clicked his tongue. “I should’ve brought matches. This damn flint tool’s nothing but an old relic—useless when it counts!” Having said this, Minosuke suddenly caught himself on his own words.

“Old relics… useless when you need ’em,… old relics useless when you need ’em…”

Just as the moon emerged and brightened the sky, Minosuke's mind—triggered by these words—began to clear like breaking clouds.

Minosuke now clearly realized his mistake—the lamp had become an obsolete tool. The world had entered an age of electric lights—those new, far more convenient tools. This was how much society had progressed. Civilization and Enlightenment had advanced. If Minosuke was truly a citizen of Japan, he ought to rejoice that Japan had advanced this far. That he had tried to obstruct society's progress just to preserve his outdated trade, that he had sought to burn what bore him no grudge—what a pitiful spectacle for a man! When society progresses and old trades grow obsolete, shouldn't a man cast aside that trade with resolve and take up a new one that benefits society?—

Minosuke immediately turned back home.

And then what did he do?

He woke his sleeping wife and had her fill all the lamps currently in the house with oil.

His wife asked Minosuke what he intended to do at such a late hour, but Minosuke remained silent—for if he told her what he was about to do, she would surely stop him.

There were about fifty lamps of various sizes in total. They filled them all with oil. And then, just as he always did when going out to peddle his wares, he hung those lamps on his cart and went outside. This time, he didn’t forget to bring matches.

Near where the road approaches the Western Pass lay a large pond called Handa Pond. The water, brimming with spring rains, shimmered like a silver plate beneath the moon. Oaks and willows stood along the pond's edge, their branches leaning as if peering into the water. Minosuke had chosen this deserted place. Now what would Minosuke do? He lit a lamp. Each time he lit one, he hung it on a branch at the pond's edge. Mixing small and large together, he covered the tree with lamps. When one tree could hold no more, he moved to the next. Thus he finally hung all the lamps across three trees.

It was a windless night, and each lamp burned quietly without flickering, making the surroundings as bright as day. The fish that had swarmed toward the light sparkled in the water, glinting like knives. “This is how I’ll end my trade.”

“This is how I’ll end my trade,” Minosuke said to himself. However, finding himself unable to leave, he stood for a long time with his hands hanging limply, gazing at the tree now laden with lamps.

Lamp, lamp, dear old lamp. The lamps that had become familiar through many long years. “This is how I’ll end my trade.”

Then Minosuke came to the main road on this side of the pond. The lamps were all still lit on the opposite shore. All fifty-odd were still lit. And on the water’s surface, about fifty upside-down lamps were also lit. Minosuke came to a stop and gazed there for a long time as well. Lamp, lamp, dear old lamp. Minosuke eventually bent down and picked up a stone from his feet. And taking aim at the largest burning lamp, he threw it with all his strength. With a shattering sound, one large flame went out.

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

When he broke the third lamp, tears somehow welled up in Minosuke’s eyes, and he could no longer bring himself to aim at the lamps. And so Minosuke quit his trade. Then he went out to town and started a new business. He became a bookseller.

* “Minosuke-san is still working as a bookseller even now. Of course, now that he’s gotten quite old, his son runs the shop, you see.”

With that, Tōichi-kun’s grandfather concluded his story and sipped his cooled tea. Since Minosuke-san was Tōichi-kun’s grandfather, Tōichi-kun stared intently at his grandfather’s face. Before he knew it, Tōichi-kun had repositioned himself in front of his grandfather and was resting his hands on Grandfather’s knees.

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

Tōichi-kun asked. “Dunno. “The next day, a traveler might’ve found them and taken them away.” “So then, there weren’t any lamps left in the house at all?”

“Yeah, not a single one left. Only this desk lamp remained.”

Grandfather remarked while looking at the lamp Tōichi-kun had brought out during the day.

“What a waste, huh? Forty-seven of them got taken by someone...” said Tōichi. “Yeah, I wasted them,” said Minosuke. “Looking back now, I too think there was no need to do such a thing. Even after electric lights were installed in Iwanari Shinden, about fifty lamps still sold quite well, you know. In the small village called Fukaya south of Iwanari Shinden, they still use lamps even now, and there were other villages that kept using them until quite late. But you see, I was still full of vigor back then. Once an idea came to me, I’d just go ahead and do it without thinking too deeply.”

“You were foolish, huh?” Tōichi-kun, being his grandson, remarked without restraint. “Yeah, I was foolish. “But you see, Tō-bō—”

And Grandfather tightly gripped his pipe on his lap and continued. "My approach may have been somewhat foolish," he said, "but how I quit my trade—though it pains me to say so myself—I reckon was rather admirable." "What I mean is this: when Japan moves forward and your old livelihood stops being useful, you cast it off clean." "Clinging miserably to some outdated business? Going on about how things were better back when your trade flourished? Bitter over society advancing? That’s the sort of gutless conduct a man must never sink to."

Tōichi-kun remained silent, gazing for a long time at his grandfather’s small but spirited face. Finally, he said. “You were amazing, Grandpa.”

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