Pathway to Japanese Literature

Costumed Cherry Blossom Viewing Party

1

Mist!
Mist!
Mist!

Days of Mist continued.
The universe was painted over with white-lead-colored Mist.
And that cold Mist intercepted the warmth surging from distant reaches, holding it at bay there.
It intercepted and absorbed it.

Within the Mist, the cherry buds grew steadily larger, visible to the eye.
Human emotions, too, were like cherry buds swelling within that Mist.
The townspeople were already talking about cherry blossom viewing.

As the Mist thickened and grew warmer, just as the cherry buds within it gradually swelled, so too did human emotions expand within that atmosphere.
The emotions of Maeda Ironworks' factory workers were no exception.
In the atmosphere that continued unchanged as before, their sense of demand gradually expanded, developing a force seeking to burst forth.

Their demands!
They were an extremely simple matter.
And moreover, they were entirely legitimate demands.
As the season climbed the slope of rising temperatures, just as cherry buds could not help but swell, their livelihoods too expanded as they rolled onward.
When a single cell naturally expanded within its environment, no artificial force could suppress it.
If one could keep a single bud from withering while maintaining it at its present size, that would be magic.
That was sorcery.
If one could completely strip away acceleration from life’s boat adrift on the waves of time, this too would be magic.
That would be sorcery.
That these workers—no magicians—could do nothing through their own power about the expansion and acceleration of their livelihoods was an entirely natural state of affairs.
When spring comes, it grows warm, and flowers bloom.
It was a natural course of events much like that.

However, their factory owner Mr. Maeda Yahei refused to acknowledge any of this.
His attitude was akin to recognizing flowers already poised to scatter as mere buds.

“Even if you say such things, isn’t this generally an age of austerity?
“In times like these, that’s simply impossible.”

The Maeda factory owner had spoken thus.

However, they were by no means trying to expand their livelihood.
They were making demands regarding the current state.
And yet, the Maeda factory owner brusquely rejected their demands through austerity policies.

“For the time being, you must tighten your belts.”
“To tell the truth, I want to tighten the factory’s expenses too.”
“Now now—just tighten your belts as much as possible...”

“What?”
“Tighten our belts?”
“If we could tighten them that much, we wouldn’t be complaining!”

For the factory workers, the day they could endure no longer had finally arrived.

2

However, the factory owner Mr. Maeda Yahei grew anxious after all.
In the depths of the room's corner, spring sunlight shone when spring came.
Even in the eyes of Mr. Maeda Yahei—who shielded his gaze from the new era—the shadow of this new age's social realities could not help reflecting.
Within that shadow, in what guise was the new era being mirrored?
When he saw this, Mr. Maeda Yahei could no longer sit still.

He pondered various matters.
Maeda Ironworks lay stagnant—extraordinarily so—pregnant with storm clouds!
What measures should he take against this?
He found himself at a loss over those countermeasures.

However, unless a greater opposing external force was applied, a single cell would inevitably grow and expand.
While Mr. Maeda Yahei was agonizing, the storm clouds gradually drew near.
Mr. Maeda realized for the first time then that he was defying the laws of nature.

At that very moment, in a corner of Mr. Maeda’s spacious garden, five or six mountain cherry trees were beginning to bloom.

“Alright!”

He shouted while gazing at the mountain cherry trees beginning to bloom from that window.
And then, he immediately called Kawamoto.
Kawamoto was an old man and retired naval officer who came to the Maeda household every day to handle their miscellaneous tasks.

“Kawamoto!”
“Order the cherry blossom viewing costumes immediately.”
“Right away!”

“Cherry blossom viewing garments?”
“That’s rather unusual.”
“But given there are various styles...”

“Whatever kind will do.”
“It doesn’t matter what kind.”
“Just have sixty or seventy outfits prepared urgently.”

“Seventy sets? What could you possibly need seventy sets for? Cherry blossom viewing garments?”

“I’ll let those workers have their cherry blossom viewing. The factory workers numbered sixty-two or three, if I recall?”

“But even if you make them view cherry blossoms, wouldn’t it be futile given the current situation? ...Rather than that...”

“It may be a waste. But I have my own ideas. Prepare them immediately.”

Mr. Maeda said angrily and flicked the ash from his cigar.

“...In that case, cheap ones would suffice for the workers’ garments, I suppose.”

“Of course cheap ones will do—they’ll only be used for a single day.”
“But I want them all in the same color and pattern.”
“And then seventy identical masks and seventy identical sandals.”
“Well, I want you to prepare seventy identical costumes.”
“Do it in a hurry.”

“No matter how much we rush, I believe it will take five or six days…”

“That can’t be helped.”
“But once the completion date is set, immediately inform the factory of the date for holding the cherry blossom viewing starting early in the morning.”

Mr. Maeda said that and sank into deep thought about something.

Maeda Ironworks was a small operation under the sole management of Mr. Maeda Yahei. However, Mr. Maeda Yahei’s despotic dictatorship reigned there. At his sole discretion, the factory’s treatment system could be altered in any way. Precisely because of that, this labor dispute had become an emotionally tangled knot that would prove difficult to unravel.

Yet precisely because of that, Mr. Maeda Yahei’s magic might unexpectedly succeed—his magic, his sorcery, which sought to make blooming flowers be recognized as mere buds.

3

It was young people who were most sensitive to their era’s social climate.
Unconsciously absorbing that era’s atmosphere through every nerve attuned to its currents.

Kenzaburō secretly laughed at his adoptive father’s plan.
He knew workers breathing this atmosphere would never bend their demands over mere cherry blossom hospitality.
And he even harbored resentment toward his adoptive father’s attitude.

Kenzaburō was no longer the Kenzaburō who had become engaged to Maeda Yahei’s eldest daughter Yaeko.
The Kenzaburō of the engagement period and the present Kenzaburō were wholly separate individuals.
And he even regretted the engagement to Yaeko.
It was not that he disliked Yaeko.
It was the atmosphere enveloping all of Yaeko’s life that he detested.
It was no longer a matter of mere likes or dislikes, but a sensation born from the convulsion of his entire being.
He detested Yaeko with his entire being and rejected the atmosphere enveloping her.
He had even begun to consider fleeing his adoptive household sooner or later.

However, there remained one lingering reluctance.
For despotic dictatorship can most easily reform the systems within its grasp.
For just as one flips a palm, it could easily transform them into entirely opposite systems.
For if he were to inherit control of Maeda Ironworks as Mr. Yahei’s adopted son, he could reform the factory’s treatment system—which he utterly rejected—into one he could affirm with his entire being.
Out of that reluctance, he remained in that unpleasant atmosphere as Yaeko’s future husband.

Kenzaburō said nothing in front of his adoptive father Yahei.
It was because he thought it would be futile to speak.
However, beneath the surface, he always harbored complaints.
And toward those who would lend an ear to his own opinions, he would deny every attitude his adoptive father Yahei took and articulate his own views.
The listener in many cases was the student Nunokawa.

There was a three-year age difference between the student Nunokawa and Kenzaburō. However, Nunokawa was not a youth capable of perceiving the new era’s social climate as sensitively as Kenzaburō. He somehow lacked sensory perception. Instead, he possessed a burning passion. He was a youth like a ball of fire. And he trusted Kenzaburō absolutely. He trusted him as believers trust their god. Kenzaburō’s words were absolute to Nunokawa. Nunokawa was precisely that sort of youth—one who sought to put Kenzaburō’s words into practice with burning passion.

“...I went and thoroughly observed the situation.”
“You’re exactly right.”

Nunokawa, who had delivered the cherry blossom viewing costumes to the ironworks, immediately reported this to Kenzaburō upon returning.

“You’re exactly right.”
“No matter what they do with just a cherry blossom viewing, it won’t settle anything.”
“If things turn sour, violence is likely to be resorted to—just as you said.”

“It can’t be helped.”
“With a stubborn old man like that, they’d naturally have to demonstrate terrorism.”
“From the workers’ perspective, no doubt it would be better if they could cooperate without such terrorism, but with an opponent that obstinate, there’s likely no alternative.”

“Violence? But in this case, do you really think things would settle properly with something like that? For one thing, violence isn’t the right approach, don’t you agree?”

“Even if it’s not proper as a method, as a means to push past a certain stage, I suppose you could call it an effective measure.”

“But do you truly believe matters resolve through such violence? If it were you—if you stood with the workers—what would you do here? You’d still choose violence, wouldn’t you?”

“I?”
“If it were me, I’d bring out thorough terrorism and take out that old man first thing, I suppose.”

Kenzaburō smiled as he said this.
It was a smile that hovered between earnestness and insincerity.
However, Nunokawa remained utterly serious.

“...But even so, are you really willing to become a victim yourself?”
“Do you intend to go through with it even if you become a victim?”

“Why do you ask such a thing? If the ironworks’ factory workers resort to terrorism, do you think you’ll be taken out along with them? You’re more of a coward than I expected. Rest assured—no matter what happens, there’s no chance you’d get taken out too.”

“That’s not what I’m afraid of. I want to know. I want to know what is right. You affirm terrorism, you affirm it as a means—well, if you were to act on it yourself, would you have enough fervor to carry it through even at the cost of becoming a victim? Is it a means worth that value? I would become a victim…”

“That’s… you!”
“It’s worth that much.”

Kenzaburō said with a serious, strained expression.

"...Take me as an example—that would suffice."
"If by becoming one sacrifice I could secure livelihoods for fifty or sixty people, wouldn't that be acceptable?"
"Fifty people—with three per family on average—if I could guarantee over a hundred and fifty human lives..."

“But—but you see—if Master were to be killed in a situation like this, could you truly maintain goodwill toward the workers?”

“Goodwill?”

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be you, you know. For argument’s sake, if we take you as an example—when the previous factory owner has been violently eliminated, and his child or adopted child becomes the successor to that factory—do you think they could reach an amicable settlement? On the contrary, might it not lead to a bad result born of resentment?”

“You’re only looking at partial aspects.”
“If the factory workers win through violence, produce casualties in doing so, and even if matters don’t go well for that factory’s people afterward—when seen from the broader perspective, doesn’t it mean the proletariat ultimately prevails?”

"But I believe examining the partial aspects is also necessary... In your case, how would you resolve it?"
"Your adoptive father being killed, and on top of that, having to give in to the workers' demands..."

"You!
"Do you think I'm that kind of person?"
"Do you think I'm such an uncomprehending human being?"
"That I'm someone who would nitpick about the means the workers took for justice..."

“I understand.”
“With that, I understand.”

Nunokawa said in a low voice, yet as if shouting.

“...In other words, when resorting to terrorism, you must first evaluate the immediate circumstances.”
“And depending on how your opponents respond...”

“That’s right.”
“Isn’t that what a struggle is?”
“After all, there aren’t any fighters carrying out that sort of terrorism these days, right?”
“However, depending on the situation, if there arises a point where terrorism becomes absolutely necessary—isn’t that unavoidable?”
“Even someone who isn’t a terrorist might suddenly become one given the circumstances, and if I were the factory’s successor, I’d look favorably upon those terrorists’ actions.”
“And I will do my part to repay the sacrifice of those terrorists who became victims.”

At that moment, someone knocked on the door of the room.

“Who is it?”

Kenzaburō raised his face and said.

“It’s me. May I come in?”

The door opened from the outside.
The one who entered was Kenzaburō’s fiancée, the young lady Yaeko.

4

The morning was clouded in a dull gray by the thick mist.

“It’ll clear up, clear up.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll clear up.”

A masked man looked up at the sky over the street and said.

“It’s this cherry blossom haze.”
“The blue sky’s breaking through.”
The same masked man remarked.
Bound for Maeda Ironworks’ Costumed Cherry Blossom Viewing Party marched Maeda Ironworks’ workforce.

The gathering place had been set in front of Shinjuku Station.
People wearing identical masks and costumes came together from the residences in groups of three or five.
At first, by their voices and physical appearances, one could clearly tell who was concealed within the costumes.
However, as those groups gradually merged into larger numbers, it became impossible to tell who was who at all.

At the Shinjuku gathering site, factory owner Mr. Maeda Yahei had been present since early morning.
He had even made his family members wear the same costumes as the workers and brought them along.
However, he himself merely tied a single cherry blossom-patterned hand towel around the collar of his business suit and did not don a costume.
Therefore, to the eyes of the workers gathering there, they could not tell which of their comrades had come, but they immediately knew that factory owner Maeda Yahei was present.

When the costumed factory workers gathered there, they first went to the factory owner and bowed.
Maeda Yahei received them with a magnanimous smile.
Had the factory workers not been wearing those identical costumes, they might never have gone before him to bow in such circumstances.
However, due to their identical costumes, it became completely impossible to tell who was who anymore.
It was this that allowed them to bow to the factory owner without a trace of apprehension.

Maeda Yahei was a man who possessed an audacious streak.
That he alone remained uncostumed to receive such bows from the costumed workers could already stand as testament to his boldness.
He may have created these identically disguised workers to gauge how much personal goodwill they held toward him when approaching individually.
As for the workers' side, perhaps it was precisely because all their costumes were identical that they had consented to today's cherry blossom viewing.
In any case, the first step of Mr. Maeda Yahei's plan had ultimately succeeded.

5

The cherry blossom viewing party was held in Koganei of Musashisakai.
Clad in identical blue-and-white striped kimonos with matching masks, sixty to seventy workers from Maeda Ironworks surged along the long embankment, encircling the factory owner—the only one in a business suit—as they advanced.

From both embankments flanking the irrigation canal to above its central flow, cherry blossoms bloomed continuously like a pale reddish mist.
Within air as faintly warm and supple as freshly squeezed cow's milk, the cherry blossoms flowered endlessly with composed magnificence.

The cherry blossom crowd churned beneath them like tidal waves.
Group after group of costumed figures streamed past.
Resounding shouts erupted from every quarter.
A child wailed.
Scuffles broke out.
Makeshift tea stalls barked their invitations to customers.
This was no communion between blossoms and humans.
Human against human!
As if they’d come to gawk at some deluge of humanity.
And all the while, the cherry blossoms kept their tranquil vigil over this raucous human pantomime.

Even amidst that bustle, Maeda Ironworks’ costumed group stood out conspicuously.
Not only were their costumes identical, but they also spoke with similar agitation, shouted in unison, and at times broke into choruses of work songs.
Some hurled insults at the factory owner, others sneered sarcastically.
Yet Mr. Maeda Yahei, speaking with a cheerful laugh like a single cell within that organism, clung to them as they pressed forward.
That was a pale cloud pregnant with a storm.
Like a pale cloud, their group passed through that human flood.

When they had reached the midpoint of the long embankment, the pale costumed group surged into the mixed grove there.
The Costumed Cherry Blossom Viewing Party was to be held within that mixed grove.
The pale costumed group spread out throughout the mixed grove.
The boxed lunches they had brought were handed out.
Bottled sake was distributed.

Mr. Maeda Yahei ended up giving a speech there.

In the lives of parasites, a ceremonial address was often enmeshed.
His address too was no more than that, but it went without saying that within this category of address, he was attempting to take the first step of his plan.
He raised his voice toward the crowd of masks.

“Gentlemen!”
“I, as the organizer of today’s Costumed Cherry Blossom Viewing Party, am one who rejoices above all else in this fine weather we share with you gentlemen.”

“Nobody here’s damn happy!”

Someone shouted from behind.
The eyes of the masks all focused simultaneously toward that voice.

“The hell you are!”
“Should’ve fuckin’ rained!”

“...Gentlemen!
“In the sky, blossoms now bloom in full splendor.
“In this peaceful sky, flowers smile joyfully together.
“And here on earth, we humans now seek to hold our banquet with peaceful joy.
“Let us share in enjoyment and joy, for peace—”

“Bullshit!”

Another mask shouted.

“Show us the evidence!”
“Evidence!”

That was the moment.
One of the costumed figures lunged forward like a fighting cock.
In the next instant, the man seized the cherry blossom viewing towel around Mr. Yahei’s neck and violently yanked him backward.
Then gripping the towel’s end, he began dragging Yahei through the dirt.
Mr. Yahei writhed without uttering a sound.
Yet the man maintained his iron grip on the cloth.
He raced about wildly, hauling Mr. Yahei’s body behind him.

“Stop the violence!”
“Stop the violence!”

However, when five or six people forced the man to release Mr. Yahei from his grip after making those demands, it had become impossible to tell which hand had compelled the release.
And Mr. Yahei was already dead.

“Hey! He’s dead!”

“Who was it?!”
“Who the hell was that just now?!”

Of course, there was no way to know.
Of course, it had been impossible to distinguish who it was from the seventy identical faces.

6

The factory workers of Maeda Ironworks were all arrested by the police from the cherry blossom viewing site.
And concerning the strangulation of Mr. Maeda Yahei, strict questioning continued through the night.
Yet no one confessed to it.

“...Then who could it be?”
“You should at least be able to imagine that much.”

The duty officer had no choice but to ask in this manner.

“Well... That’s just it, you see.”
“Because nearly seventy people were all wearing the same clothes and masks…”

“Just who came up with those costumes anyway?”
“Was it the factory owner who came up with it?”
“Or was it you who came up with them?”

“That was something the factory owner came up with, and we were told we absolutely had to wear those costumes when coming out, so…”

“Can’t figure it out!
“Just can’t figure it out!”

The duty officer could only shake his head as he said this.

“Why on earth did the factory owner make you all wear those costumes?”
“Don’t you think he had some purpose in mind?”

“We do not know.”

“It’s truly baffling.”

“But we do understand the factory owner held the cherry blossom viewing to make relations with us workers more intimate.”

“That may be so.”
“But why did he decide to make you wear those identical costumes?”
“Just can’t figure it out!”

In the end, they could not identify the culprit from among the factory workers who had been brought there. Along with the factory workers, the family members who had been with the factory owner were also investigated. Of course, the culprit did not emerge from there either.

The police had no choice but to retain seven or eight workers from among those factory workers whom they had deemed most radical. This was because the incident’s origins, both directly and indirectly, stemmed from this labor dispute.

From among those seven or eight, the ones particularly suspected as the true culprits were Yamamoto and Kawase.
This was because Yamamoto had worked at a large iron pipe factory before coming to Maeda Ironworks, and during a labor dispute at that factory, he had visited the home of the company president who managed it, pointed a pistol at him, and carried a prior conviction for intimidation.
And this was because Kawase had repeatedly visited factory owner Mr. Maeda Yahei at his residence during this recent labor dispute at Maeda Ironworks, each time engaging in heated arguments with Mr. Yahei using threatening language.

However, even for these two suspects, there was nothing sufficient that could serve as evidence.
After some time, they too were released.
And so, the Maeda Yahei murder case was buried beneath new incidents in a preoccupied society, gradually fading from memory.

The police too had to discontinue the full efforts they had been pouring into apprehending the true culprit and revise their approach.

7

In the Maeda household that had lost Master Yahei, discussions arose about transferring ownership of the ironworks to another party.
It was precisely because they operated the factory as a private enterprise that even family members were frequently made to endure unpleasant experiences.
And because by relinquishing the factory, their future lives seemed secure, and it appeared they could shut themselves within a shell that seemed peaceful.
The daughter Yaeko had also agreed to this.
However, Kenzaburō, the adopted son, absolutely refused to consent to this.

Kenzaburō harbored an ambition to transform Maeda Ironworks into a model factory.
It was not what one would call a conventional model factory.
He wanted to transplant a fragment of the ideal world within him into that factory.
That was undoubtedly a difficult path.
However, Kenzaburō’s youthful ambition burned with an irrepressible hope to realize the world he envisioned there—a world that reflected society’s demands in this new era.

And so, Kenzaburō left behind his life in the study and took his first step into real life as a young factory owner.

Around that same time, Nunokawa—who had until then been boarding at the Maeda household as a live-in student—also came to venture into real society in the same manner as Kenzaburō.

“Anyway, I’ve decided to stake my life on trying this.”

Nunokawa said this to Kenzaburō.
However, he himself had no particular opinions of his own.
His actions were merely an attempt to put Kenzaburō’s habitual words into practice.

“Well, let’s see how much you can manage—give it a try.”
“I respect your passion.”
“After all, what I’m striving for and what you’re striving for are the same destination.”
“Only our paths differ—whether approaching from the front or the rear.”
“Shall we throw ourselves into this fully?”

“I’ll do it. I’ll stake my life on it.”

“However, as I’ve said before—when it comes to terrorism, if you don’t properly assess the situation, it’ll end in a foolish sacrifice.”

“I’ve considered that thoroughly too. I’ll join the movement and give it my all, so…”

And Nunokawa left the Maeda household.

Nunokawa’s life from then on became one of bearing the grievances and dissatisfactions of factory labor.
It was a life like pressing one’s bare flesh against white-hot ingots.

However, Nunokawa was enduring it.

8

Mist!
Mist!
Mist!

Days of mist continued.
The universe was smothered in chalk-white mist.
And that cold mist blocked the warm things surging from distant realms.
It blocked and absorbed them.

In the mist, cherry buds swelled visibly.
Human emotions too were like cherry buds swelling within that mist.
The townspeople already spoke of blossom viewing.

As the mist thickened and warmed—much like cherry buds gradually swelling within it—human emotions expanded in that atmosphere.
The emotions of Maeda Ironworks’ workers followed this pattern too.
Though their treatment had improved markedly from the factory’s state a year prior, they’d grown thoroughly accustomed to these conditions.
More crucially, their livelihood grew like a snowball—expanding the more it rolled.
They too had expanded since that time.
Yet improvement and growth since then didn’t guarantee present satisfaction.
Just as their existence had been subhuman before, so too did it remain subhuman now.
Even pigs live varied lives depending on their keepers.
Transferred from Keeper A to Keeper B, a pig might gain far better treatment.
But that remained a pig’s life—never human.
When these workers realized their existence fell below human standards—and when they saw Maeda Kenzaburō erecting luxury through exploited labor—they couldn’t refrain from demanding their due.

Maeda Kenzaburō, as factory owner, could not recognize the workers' demands as legitimate.
He himself believed he was a factory owner with more than sufficient understanding toward the workers.
And he had been providing what he considered the utmost possible treatment to them.
When confronted with what he saw as the workers' greed—layering demand upon demand while remaining oblivious to his sentiments as factory owner—Kenzaburō resolved to reject their claims through sheer obstinacy.

Maeda Kenzaburō considered various countermeasures regarding that matter.
After having someone bring a rattan chaise longue out to the veranda before his study, he lay stretched out on it and continued pondering those countermeasures.

From the expensive cigar held between his pale hands, bluish-white smoke rose quietly.
And in the garden's corner, five or six mountain cherry trees were already beginning to bloom.
It was a bright, languid spring.
Amidst that radiant nature, one faction of humans locked in struggle contemplated their countermeasures with perfect composure.

At that moment, Nunokawa came to visit him after some time apart.
Kenzaburō had Nunokawa shown into his own study and met him there.

“Oh!
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“It has been.”

Nunokawa was wearing an oil-stained suit. It was even torn here and there.

“So, how have you been getting along?”

“As you can see.”

“So you’re involved in the movement.”

“I am. That’s why I came today to ask for a donation.”

“Is there some labor dispute going on?”

“You’re saying something rather unbecoming of yourself. If you’re talking about disputes, there are always some everywhere. However, today I haven’t come to ask for a donation for that dispute.”

“What’s the money for?”

“I’m thinking of holding a Costumed Cherry Blossom Viewing Party for the workers.”

“Again this year?
“You!
“You can’t keep catching loaches under the same willow tree every time.
“What factory are you even talking about?”

“Maeda Ironworks.”

“Maeda Ironworks?”

Kenzaburō tensed his face with a look of bewilderment, folding a terrifying notion into his wrinkles.

“There’s no need for you to be so surprised. I have no intention of doing anything to you."
“Just let me have the money, and that’s all.”

“I won’t give.
“I won’t give a single thing to the workers of Maeda Ironworks, no matter what you say.”

“I’m not saying to give it to the workers.”
“Please give it to me.”
“I’m the one who knows your greatest failing.”
“Since I’m asking like this—because I want to let the workers live somewhat human lives—there’s no reason you can’t give it, is there?”
“Besides, isn’t that money something you exploited from the workers through your own failing?”
“There’s no reason you can’t give back just a tiny portion of that to them, is there?”

“Aren’t you trying to shift your own sin onto me?”

Kenzaburō’s voice was slightly trembling.

“I am not such a cowardly man. I take full responsibility for my actions with my very life on the line.”

“You’ve turned into quite the troublemaker, haven’t you? You used to believe my words so fervently, but…”
“But weren’t you the one who was mistaken? Now it is I who am correct. As their representative, I naturally have every right to make such demands.”

“You think you’re right? You’re not a cowardly man? So that makes me the mistaken one? You don’t mean to shift your sin onto me now, do you?”

“I am not that sort of person. But if we speak of that matter—you’re the one who killed him.”

“Me?”

“That’s right.
“It’s true I pulled that hand towel, but I was merely the hand that pulled it.
The will that demanded pulling—wasn’t that the will you forced upon me?”

“You! Don’t say such things so loudly.
I never intended it that way.”

“However, that is the fact. When you first raised the subject of terrorism, remember what you told me then. Did I not simply execute what you instructed?”

“You? But... but...”

Kenzaburō’s voice trembled violently.

“There’s no need to worry. You’re the one who brought up that matter and spoke of me as a criminal, so I merely responded in kind. I won’t go proclaiming it to anyone.”

“...But it’s because you keep saying it’s my fault.”
“From my failing—”

“When I say ‘my failing,’ do you mean who killed him?”
“I am not speaking of that responsibility.”
“As a capitalist, you intend to reform the workers’ lives, don’t you?”
“That is what I mean.”
“Isn’t that a failing?”
“For example, capitalism is a machine that exploits factory workers, isn’t it?”
“Aren’t you the capitalist operating that machine of exploitation?”
“The failing I spoke of is precisely that.”

“Well, that’s fine as it is.”
“Then let it be my failing.”
“So what kind of costumes are you going to make the workers wear?”
“Does making them wear costumes really require that much money?”

“I will not hold a Costumed Cherry Blossom Viewing Party.”

“Then why…”

“I want you to recall last year’s Costumed Cherry Blossom Viewing Party and grant all of the workers’ current demands.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

Nunokawa said that and stared fixedly at Kenzaburō’s face.
Kenzaburō also stared fixedly at Nunokawa’s face.
Silence continued between the two.