Pathway to Japanese Literature

1

The elder brother was called Kouichi, and the younger brother was called Min. Kouichi took over the assets and family business left behind by his father and became the family head. Min disliked practical work and, having entered the liberal arts department of the university only to soon be afflicted with tuberculosis, spent all his time retreating to the seaside villa and living there as he pleased.

The brothers' relationship was never particularly bad. Without fail once a month, Kouichi would make the long journey to the villa with his wife Sachiko, having first discussed in advance what gifts his younger brother might want. Now, Kouichi’s wife Sachiko—who had been raised alongside the brothers as Kouichi’s betrothed since childhood—had once, while still attending girls’ school, fallen in love with Min when he was a high school student and even eloped with him.

When the two were caught and brought back, Kouichi pleaded with their parents to quietly suppress the incident. “I shall not blame your wrongdoing.” “Under normal circumstances, I ought to hand Sachiko over to you... but I simply cannot bring myself to let her go.” “Please—I beg you—step back.” Kouichi said this to his younger brother.

And though Min and Sachiko had been forcibly separated, as time passed their passion gradually cooled until, left to its own course, the situation settled with unexpected ease.

When Kouichi and Sachiko held their wedding ceremony, Min had already contracted tuberculosis and relocated to the coast; nevertheless, he made a special effort to attend and take his seat. “All three of us truly believed we were real siblings when we were children.” His cheeks bore the pallor of illness, but Min looked between the newlyweds’ faces and laughed as he said this.

2

That autumn, Min's condition suddenly worsened. Thus, with her husband’s consent, Sachiko came to stay at the villa to nurse her brother-in-law. Kouichi also came to visit almost every weekend, staying overnight.

From Min’s perspective, his brother and sister-in-law were his only remaining family, so he rejoiced beyond measure. Sachiko forgot sleep and meals as she devoted herself to nursing the patient. The patient lay in the glass-enclosed room facing the sea, his sunken chest swaddled within a fever-scented futon. Staring at the ceiling blanched by the sea breeze’s dampness, he coughed dryly while basking in Sachiko’s ministrations—yet having grown so dangerously prone to emotion, he would occasionally reduce her to utter exasperation.

“Having you do such things for me is painful, Sachiko. I might as well just die. No matter how you look at it, someone like me is just superfluous, you know?”

“If you say such things, I really will go home.” “Ah, just go home!” At such times, his fever would spike immediately. And then, claiming this was Sachiko’s doing, whenever she so much as hid her presence even slightly, Min would grow even more agitated—berating the nurses and maids while persistently demanding they call Sachiko for him—and would not be appeased. Even when replacing the ice bag late at night, Min would brighten his eyes wide—but if it was anyone other than Sachiko, he would become terribly cross.

However, when Kouichi was present, he could not make such selfish demands. He behaved with complete obedience toward Kouichi. Kouichi would spend entire gloomy, listless Sundays lying sprawled at his younger brother’s bedside, reading books he had bought for Min himself—but when their eyes happened to meet, Min would silently offer a smile before wearily turning his head away and closing his eyes.

3

The fine weather continued, and each day the crisp blue sky grew richer in hue. The sea lay as calm as a lake, rendering even the most distant island shadows in sharp relief. Min’s illness took a slight turn for the better.

That afternoon, for the first time in a while, Min came out to the rattan lounge chair on the sun-drenched veranda. Sachiko had gone down to the garden and, since no one had been tending to them, was bundling several clusters of cosmos flowers that had stretched unchecked and were now toppling over, tying them up with string.

“What strange flowers these are, you know. If they can’t even stand upright, there’s no need for them to grow so tall, don’t you think?” “Shall I help you?”

“Stop that.” “You’re even more spindly than those cosmos, you know.” Min stealthily cast his gaze toward the area from Sachiko’s shoulder to her collar as she squatted there in flashy, Chinese-style pajamas.

“Hey.” “What?” “Tomorrow’s the day Brother comes.”

“He’s bringing some fine salami.” “He’ll be surprised to see me up and about.” “I suppose.” “But don’t get carried away and overexert yourself.”

Sachiko stiffened as she casually turned around and sensed Min’s gaze.

“Hey.” “What?”

“I’m happy.” “…………” “I think I’ll tell Brother that just one kiss from you, Sachiko, has made me so energetic.”

“You’re a scoundrel!”

“Fine…”

“If you think I love you, that’s where you’re completely wrong.” Sachiko tossed aside the flowers and stood up. “Lies! Sachiko must love me more than anyone else deep down—that’s how it should be. The love we once had—the love that had been sleeping—has now awakened. A love that was once so devoted doesn’t just vanish so easily—you must see that. I’ve waited so long…”

“I wouldn’t fall in love with someone on the verge of death!” With those words, Sachiko ran off. Min, in a fluster, jumped down from the veranda to the lawn. And still barefoot, staggering, he shouted in a voice shattered by coughing. “Sachi! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” “…Sachiko!”

However, Sachiko ran off without looking back, heading from the rear gate toward the pine grove on the cliff. Min stuffed his feet into the garden clogs left on the stepping stones and chased after her.

Before long, Min alone returned, gasping with anguished breath. “Where did she go? She’s disappeared,” Min informed the household members. Min was in distress and immediately took to his bed. However, no matter how long they waited—as evening arrived and the beach and pine grove scenery became dyed a melancholy crimson, as dusk approached—Sachiko did not return. People finally began to worry. They inquired at the very few houses where Sachiko was likely to have visited and at the station, but found no trace of her.

Sachiko did not return all night long.

Min, for his part, developed a severe fever and coughed up a copious amount of blood.

4

Near dawn, one of the searching villagers—carrying a white lantern whose candle had burnt out—arrived with a report, his face deathly pale. It was reported that Sachiko had fallen to her death in the rocky recess beneath the cliff.

The villa’s people were thrown into a panic. Min himself was in an especially critical condition, making even informing him of such news highly perilous; with only young maids and nurses present, they found themselves utterly at a loss. First, they had to inform Kouichi, but since that very day was when he was scheduled to arrive, they decided to hold off—reasoning that sending a telegram would only result in missing each other.

The post-mortem examination concluded by morning. Sachiko’s corpse lay at the base of a cliff less than three hundred meters from the villa, half-submerged in seawater from the receding tide. She had struck her forehead and chest against sharp rock ledges—injuries that appeared fatal. This was no drowning. The fifteen-meter cliff bore a small protrusion one-third up its face, where a pine tree clung to the stone; on its branch fluttered the torn sleeve of her pajama, ripped free during the fall. She must have hit that outcrop mid-descent, bounced once, then tumbled headlong to her death. Though fifteen hours had passed since her demise, the jagged shoreline—untouched by summer crowds or fishing boats—had kept her hidden from sight. The first villager to find her arrived at dawn after a futile search, peering over the cliff’s edge only to startle at what fluttered in the half-light: a black pajama sleeve embroidered crimson, snapping like a wounded flag against the wind.

Since no plausible reason that could be considered either suicide or homicide was found, the officials in charge readily concluded it was an accidental death. Sachiko’s corpse was temporarily moved to the villa, laid out once more on a white futon, and awaited Kouichi’s arrival.

However, Kouichi was nowhere to be seen on the noon train he always took. And before the people who had gone to meet him at the station could return empty-handed, a telegram arrived ahead of them. "Circumstances prevent me. Will arrive tomorrow—"

Therefore, the panicked household members immediately sent back an urgent telegram.

Kouichi arrived on the last train. “There was a bid that delayed me.” He turned up the thick collar of his winter coat and, with quivering lips, said this to those who had come to meet him.

Sachiko’s body had already been fully bandaged at the wounds and wiped clean. Kouichi pressed his cheek against his cold wife’s face and was overcome with tears.

5

After completing the funeral, Kouichi entrusted his work to others and returned to the villa once more. He had wanted to rest quietly for a while, but it must have also been from a heart that longed to cherish the visage of his beloved wife among her mementos in the room where Sachiko had risen and reclined until her final day. Min had become completely weakened since then and was not likely to last much longer. However, even in that state, his mind remained relatively lucid.

It was on a rainy evening, one that turned piercingly cold as if winter had suddenly arrived. Kouichi lay down beside his brother, but the raging sound of the tide filled his ears, making it impossible to sleep. Over the bedside lamp had been draped a lace cover that Sachiko had knitted, adorned with tassels of knotted cords.

“Brother.”

Min, whom he had thought was asleep, suddenly called out. “What is it? Ice?” “N-no… Brother, do you truly believe Sachiko accidentally fell to her death?”

“Why?” “But there’s no other way to think about it, is there?” “However, that’s not what actually happened.” “She couldn’t have been so dissatisfied as to take her own life.” “She loved me to the fullest and was satisfied by being loved by me.”

“Lies.” “The one she loved wasn’t me.” “You’re not suggesting that Sachiko threw herself off the cliff to her death, are you?” The two voices tangled together in the midnight air.

“That’s not it.” “Sachiko was killed.” “What did you say?!”

“Sachiko was pushed off.” “…I was the one who pushed Sachiko off.” “Shh!” “Stop this nonsense.” “Even as a joke—if the nurses were to overhear this, it would cause trouble.”

“Who in their right mind would say such a thing as a joke?” “I’ll tell you everything.”

“I beg you—speak more quietly.”

At this, Min confessed the following to his brother.

“My love for Sachiko never diminished—not even after we were torn apart. No matter how much I tried to convince my own heart that I had to give up, it was ultimately futile. And I resented you, Brother. Given circumstances like ours—even if Sachiko was your betrothed—where did you have any right to tear apart two people who loved each other with everything they had?! To claim it was because you loved her—that’s an absurd logic beyond all reason. I could never forgive it. I was resolved that no matter what happened, I would make Sachiko my own. But sadly, it soon became clear that Sachiko herself had changed her heart and readily became your wife. When I attended your wedding, I swore revenge in my heart. Though I never planned murder itself—if you and your wife were so devoid of moral sense—I resolved there’d be no shame in my conscience were I to commit adultery with that wanton sister-in-law of yours. So I began secretly awaiting my chance. This must have been utterly despicable thinking in hindsight—but with a disposition made timid by nature and warped by illness into servility—it couldn’t be helped. Every time you both visited me together after marrying—flaunting your marital bliss—my base desires were lashed ever more cruelly. I grew restless. Yet Sachiko wasn’t the flirt I’d imagined—no such opportunity ever came. Meanwhile my illness worsened. That my own scheming worsened my condition goes without saying. When autumn came and I could no longer rise freely from bed—Sachiko began nursing me overnight—but then I resolved this purpose must be fulfilled through pure vengeance rather than base desire—even if self-destructive. Finally one evening when only Sachiko remained—tearfully I confessed how through all those years I’d never once forgotten her—how deeply I’d yearned. But then—Sachiko who’d been silently listening—suddenly kissed my fever-parched lips! ‘And… I’m sorry.’”

“But now, I like Kouichi more than you,” she said. My heart pounded as I repeated: “That’s something I understand perfectly well myself.” “Besides, I’m someone who’ll only live a little longer.” “I’m not saying you should abandon Brother and rekindle our old flame.” “Far from it—I’m actually grateful beyond measure that I can die here being nursed by you.” Yet even if this selfish wish were but a fleeting pretense, I thought how blissful it would be to pass into the next world believing you were the lover who encompassed my entire existence. “Please—I beg you—just once more, act like we did in the old days.” “Naturally, since I said ‘act,’ mere pretense would suffice.” “A secret that’ll perish with my body—soon to turn to dust—without anyone ever knowing.” “Please—won’t you grant this childish, futile wish?” Sachiko seemed to ponder this briefly before a large, beautiful tear welled in her eyes. She nodded once—“Very well… I really did love you more than anyone after all, Min.” “You’re my one and only lover,” she said. She gently embraced me and kissed me again and again. My heart suddenly grew uneasy. Whether Sachiko’s demeanor was performance or truth, I found myself unable to discern. From then on, we stole moments away from prying eyes to caress each other. “In my original plan, I meant to flaunt our affair vividly before Brother—yet instead I began skulking about like an adulterer wary of discovery.” Spineless as it sounds, I’d helplessly drowned in this self-scripted romantic charade.

I began to rehearse the love of my boyhood days. I was happy. And I even gradually began to regain my strength. ……And yet, I ended up killing Sachiko. That day too was no different from any other, but a careless joke I let slip during a momentary lapse of composure in the garden seemed to unexpectedly offend Sachiko.

Sachiko suddenly started running, so for no particular reason I chased after her. She stood at the cliff’s edge on the pine grove’s fringe, weeping. When Sachiko saw my face, she turned violently hysterical and shrieked with loathing—“You coward!” “Just die!” “Who could ever love someone like you!” “You’re the one who begged me to playact this charade!” “Now you suddenly grow righteous—what kind of monster does that?!” I was cast into despair’s abyss, my vision darkening. Yes—it had all been an act!... A wretched farce of my own devising! I apologized to Sachiko. I pleaded that I’d never overstep again—begged her to endure a little longer and keep up this performance. But she coldly turned away, refusing. There I finally told her: “Fine. Then there’s no alternative.” “This play’s finale demands rewriting.” “You faithless harpy!” “I’ll kill you!” No sooner had I spoken than I pushed the deathly pale, frozen Sachiko over the cliff’s edge. “In that instant... To keep my beloved from ever passing to another... I had no choice but to end her myself…………”

Min pressed his face into the pillow and sobbed. Kouichi wordlessly pulled the bedding over himself. The sound of wind-driven rain battering the storm shutters could be heard.

6

After a while, Kouichi emerged from the futon and addressed Min in a calm tone.

“Min, I don’t believe your story is a lie.”

Min did not respond.

“But Min—at least, it wasn’t you who killed Sachiko. You may have pushed her off intending to kill her, but Sachiko caught on a pine tree during the fall and lost consciousness. Not only was she not dead yet at that point, but she’d likely sustained nothing more than minor scratches. A man who’d been following you two heard Sachiko’s scream and rushed to the scene, only to find you had already fled. Seeing Sachiko caught on the cliff below, he promptly went to fetch a rope and used it to climb down to her. And then—contrary to what you’d expect of someone rescuing Sachiko—that man seemed to hesitate there awhile before kicking her body down again. That man was none other than me… Why do you suppose I had to kill Sachiko in such a way?” “……From the very beginning, I never trusted what was between you two.” “When placed in a relationship like ours, it’s impossible to get by without harboring doubts.” “I gradually began to feel the weight of those suspicions.” “While maintaining a facade of calm on the surface, I sniffed around you two like a hound.” “However—whether because nothing had truly transpired between you or because you were more cunning actors—I found myself unable to grasp even a wisp of concrete evidence.” I found myself overwhelmed by a strange impatience so absurd that even I could scarcely believe it. As if I’d been lying in wait for your infidelity from the very start—as if that alone justified entering a calculated marriage just to entrap you—I even began feeling this way. “……Then before long, your illness worsened, and Sachiko said she wanted to go nurse you overnight.” “I agreed immediately.” “I employed one of the maids as a spy to keep watch over you two.” “And sure enough, reports came that you two seemed to be stealing moments away from prying eyes—kissing and embracing each other.” “Of course, I couldn’t have known this was all a charade you’d orchestrated—that poor Sachiko was merely playing an insincere role out of pity for your dying state.” “I wanted to witness your misconduct directly with my own eyes.” “That day was a Friday, but I deliberately departed a day early without informing anyone.”

First, I entered the pine grove that afforded a clear view of your sickroom and the back garden, then observed the situation from there through binoculars. Fortunately, your figures came into view as you both were amiably conversing in the garden and on the veranda. Soon after you both exchanged a few words, Sachiko abruptly broke into a run. You also hastily chased after her. Sachiko opened the back gate and dashed toward the pine grove where I was hiding. I quickly hid deep within the pine grove so you wouldn’t find me. However, after some time, a piercing scream from Sachiko came from the direction of the cliff. Then, accompanied by a clatter of frantic footsteps, you appeared in a state of utter panic, gasping for breath—only to be seen through the gaps in the trees running back toward the villa. I immediately realized the gravity of the situation and rushed toward where Sachiko’s scream had come from. And sure enough, wasn’t Sachiko precariously hanging halfway down the high cliff? “I tried to call out for help at the top of my voice but stopped myself.” Then I hurried out of the pine grove, sneaked into the barn of the nearest farmhouse, grabbed a bundle of the readily available well rope, and rushed back. I tied the rope to a nearby tree root and, clinging to it, managed to successfully descend to where Sachiko was—but upon seeing her unconscious face, my mind abruptly changed. “To go out of my way to save such an unfaithful wife—what a foolish thing that would be.” “If I kill the woman and frame the adulterer for murder, wouldn’t that suffice?” “Since Min himself already believes he killed her, there could be no easier task than this.” “To save her life here would be tantamount to disregarding God’s will.” Once I resolved myself, I kicked her body with all my strength. She left one sleeve of her pajamas caught on a pine branch and tumbled headfirst down onto the rocks where white waves crashed and scattered. I took that pajama sleeve and placed it on the cliff edge—to make it appear as though a struggle had occurred there between Sachiko and you—thinking to hasten the discovery of that thread. But considering that if I were to clumsily fabricate such a scene, you might notice a third party’s involvement and complicate matters further, I refrained. After that, I secretly returned the rope to the farmhouse, then immediately boarded a train and returned home.

At the station, both when disembarking and boarding, I had changed from my usual attire beforehand and even wore sunglasses, so I managed to avoid being noticed by the station staff. When I returned home, I immediately sent a telegram addressed to Sachiko stating she would be delayed in arriving at the villa. It would never constitute an alibi, but it wasn’t entirely without a somewhat misleading effect. And the next day, upon receiving the telegram of Sachiko’s unnatural death, I arrived at the villa with feigned panic. “However, you were in such a high fever that you were nearly unconscious and groaning.” “I had assumed you would be arrested as a suspect in Sachiko’s murder on the pretext that you had argued with her on the veranda the previous day and then pursued her—and had that been the case, I intended to explain your relationship with Sachiko and implicitly help establish your guilt—but.” “Moreover, Sachiko had been conclusively ruled an accidental death.” “I should have fabricated more conspicuous evidence of murder—even if crudely done—like leaving the pajama sleeve at the cliff’s edge.” I was considerably disappointed. But I reconsidered once more... Even if I were to frame a dying patient for murder—especially when he himself is fully aware of it—wouldn’t that ultimately be a futile endeavor? “Rather than that—wouldn’t it be a far more effective narrative if I, as Sachiko’s husband, were to confess not only that I knew every detail of his crimes but also that I accomplished the very objective he so ineptly failed to achieve...?”

Min let out a low moan.

“Brother—Sachiko was just putting on an act.” “Sachiko truly loved only you, Brother.” “And you didn’t even know that…” Min coughed violently. And he vomited bright red blood onto the white pillow.

“Min—what I wanted to say wasn’t meant in that way.” “Hey, Min…” As he said this, Kouichi gently stroked his younger brother’s back.

7

After that, about a week passed, and Min died.

Kouichi could no longer bear staying in that detestable villa and decided to return to the capital. And so Kouichi sorted through various belongings. Then, from within the book desk Min had used during his lifetime, there emerged what appeared to be a letter enclosed in a crude kraft paper envelope.

On the envelope was written: “Dear Honorable Elder Brother — Min.” Beside it was marked “Confidential.” Kouichi held it in one hand and hesitated pensively for a while. Kouichi considered burning it unopened in the fire. But in the end, he resolutely slit open the envelope.

Brother. Please forgive this wicked prank. If you hesitated before opening this letter, Brother, then I believe you truly loved both Sachiko and me. Presuming upon your fraternal kindness, I swear before God to tell this final truth. Sachiko never loved you—it was always me. That day she became inexplicably hysterical; when I seized her at the cliff's edge, she wept and begged me to die with her.

I love you, Brother—and though my time grows short, I couldn't bring myself to exploit Sachiko's capricious sentimentality for some tragic lovers' suicide pact. That's why I refused her outright. Then, no sooner had Sachiko suddenly screamed something than she threw herself off the cliff. I did not kill Sachiko. The one who killed Sachiko was you, Brother! You may wonder why I claimed to have killed her myself, but it was simply because seeing you obsessively clinging to memories and mementos of the dead Sachiko struck me as pitiful beyond words—while simultaneously filling me with unbearable revulsion. When I imagine living with Sachiko in a world without you, Brother, I feel supremely happy.

Kouichi struck a match and lit the letter on fire.

——I see. Had Min wanted to keep Sachiko as his own to that extent? Taking Sachiko back from him had been nothing but my own mistake.

Kouichi stepped out onto the veranda and stared at the deserted seascape, lost in thought for a long time. Then he called out to the sea.

But Min, I had known that scene from the very beginning. Though it shames me to admit, I—who had followed you both and spied—witnessed everything from the shadow of a nearby tree. Sachiko had been driven by you to the cliff's edge, but when she tried to evade your relentless pursuit there, her foot slipped and she plummeted. In your shock, you fled without even checking whether she lived or died, did you? Her sleeve caught for just an instant on that jutting outcrop midway down before she fell straight through. Just as you didn't kill her, I too never killed her. But it seems this contest has ended in your victory after all. "...Rest in peace."