Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Natsume Sōseki

I

With both hands dangling idly, Kei returned from somewhere.

“Where did you go, then?”

“I just took a walk around town.”

“Did you see anything worth seeing?”

“There was a temple.”

“And then?”

“A single ginkgo tree stood at the gate.”

“And then?”

“From the ginkgo tree to the main hall, stones were laid out for about a block and a half. It was a very long and narrow temple.”

“Did you go inside?”

“I decided not to go in.”

“Was there anything else?”

“There’s nothing in particular. Well, after all, temples exist in most villages anyway—don’t you think?”

“Well, of course—shouldn’t there always be one where people die?”

“I see, that’s right,” Kei said, tilting his head.
Kei was sometimes impressed by strange things.
After a while, Kei straightened his tilted neck and said this.

“Then I watched them replace a horse’s horseshoes at the blacksmith’s—it was truly skillful work.”

“I thought you took rather long for just a temple.”
“Is a horse’s shoes really that fascinating?”

“Even if it’s not unusual, I watched them.”
“You—how many different tools do you think they use for that?”

“How many different kinds are there?”

“Take a guess.”

“I’ll tell you even if you don’t guess.”

“There are about seven.”

“That many? Name them.”

“What do you mean ‘name them’? They’re definitely there.”
“First, a chisel to pry off the hoof, a hammer to strike the chisel, then a small knife to trim the hoof, some strange tool to hollow it out, and then...”

“And then what else is there?”

“And then there are still all sorts of strange things, you know. First of all, I was surprised at how docile the horse was. Even after being shaved down and hollowed out like that, it stays perfectly calm.”

“It’s a hoof, after all. Even humans calmly trim their nails.”

“Humans may be like that, but it’s a horse.”

“Whether it’s a horse or human—hooves or nails—there’s no difference. You’re awfully carefree.”

“I watched because I’m carefree. But when you strike red iron in dim light, it’s beautiful. Crackling sparks fly.”

“They do fly out—even in the middle of Tokyo.”

“They do fly out even in the middle of Tokyo, but the feeling’s different.”
“With a mountain blacksmith like this, it’s different right from the sound.”
“There—you can hear it all the way here!”

The early autumn sunlight was chilly and slanting toward distant lands; in the lonely mountain village air that hastened an uneasy dusk, the *clang clang* of iron being struck resounded.

“Can you hear it?” Kei said.

“Uh-huh,” Roku replied and remained silent.

In the next room, two people were talking about something with great enthusiasm.

“So, um—the opponent dropped his bamboo sword, you know.”
“Then, um—just then—I managed to take the kote, you know.”

“Hmm.”
“So you finally had your kote taken?”

“So you finally had your kote taken after all, you know.”
“I managed to take his kote, but then he dropped his bamboo sword, so there was just no way around it, you know.”

“Hmm.”
“Did you drop your bamboo sword?”

“As for the bamboo sword—well, I dropped it earlier, you know.”

“It’d be trouble if you drop the bamboo sword and have the kote taken.”

“That’d be such a pain~.”
“Because both the bamboo sword and kote were taken.”

Their conversation never progressed beyond bamboo swords and kote.

Silently sitting facing each other, Mr. Kei and Mr. Roku exchanged glances and grinned wryly.

The clang-clang of iron being struck resounded through the quiet village.
Jarring and somehow lonely.

“He’s still forging the horseshoes.”
“It’s a bit chilly, don’t you think?” Mr. Kei said, stiffening under his white yukata.
Mr. Roku similarly adjusted the collar of his plain white unlined kimono and neatly aligned his carelessly splayed knees.
Before long, Mr. Kei spoke again.

“In the middle of the town where I lived as a child, there was a tofu shop.”

“There was a tofu shop?”

“There was a tofu shop, and if you went up about a block from its corner along a slight incline, there was a temple called Kankin-ji.”

“Is there a temple called Kankin-ji?”

“There is.”
“It must still be there now.”
“From the gate, all you could see was a vast bamboo grove—no main hall or priest’s quarters in sight.”
“At that temple, every morning around four o’clock, someone would strike the bell.”

“When you say ‘someone’ strikes it—it must be a monk doing that, right?”

“I don’t know if it’s a monk or what.”
“It just faintly clangs from within the bamboo.”
On winter mornings when thick frost fell, lying under the futon and blocking out the world’s cold with an inch or two of bedding, I’d hear that clang echoing from the bamboo grove.
“I never learned who struck it.”
“Every time I passed the temple, I’d see the long stone pavement, the tilting gatehouse, and that bamboo grove swallowing up the entrance—but I never once looked inside.”
“All I ever did was listen to that bell in the bamboo grove and curl up like a shrimp beneath my futon.”

“You mean curl up like a shrimp?”

“Yeah. Curling up like a shrimp and muttering ‘clang clang’ under my breath.”

“How strange.”

“Then sure enough, the tofu shop in front of the gate would wake up and open its storm shutters.”
“The grinding sound of beans being milled in a mortar would echo.”
“The swishing sound of changing the tofu’s water would follow.”

“So where exactly is your house located?”

“My house is, in other words, in a place where you can hear those sounds.”

“So where does that mean it is?”

“Right nearby.”

“Across from the tofu shop? Next door?”

“What? The second floor.”

“Where?”

“The second floor of the tofu shop.”

“Heeeh.”
“That’s…” Mr. Roku exclaimed in surprise.

“I’m a tofu shop kid.”

“Heeeh.”
“A tofu shop?” Mr. Roku exclaimed again in surprise.

“Then, when the morning glories on the fence turn brown and wither, rattling when pulled, and a white mist blankets everything—just as the gas lamp at the town’s edge flickers—the temple bell rings again.”
“Clang clang, it rings clear deep within the bamboo grove.”
“Then, taking this bell as their signal, the tofu shop in front of the gate would put up their storm shutters.”

“You say ‘the tofu shop in front of the gate,’ but isn’t that your place?”

“My house—that is, the tofu shop in front of the gate—would put up the storm shutters.”
“While listening to that clang clang sound, I’d go up to the second floor, lay out the futon, and go to sleep.”
“The Yoshihara-age from our shop was delicious.”
“It was famous throughout the neighborhood.”

The kote and bamboo sword in the neighboring room had both quieted down, while on the opposite engawa, a portly old man in his sixties, his round back leaning against a pillar, sat cross-legged as he plucked the hairs from his jaw one by one with a pair of tweezers.
When he firmly pressed down on the root of a beard hair and yanked it out, the tweezers bounced downward, and his jaw flipped upward.
It looked just like a machine in motion.

“How many days do you think it would take to pluck all that out?” Mr. Roku asked Kei.

“If he works hard at it, it’d probably take about half a day.”

“It won’t be that easy,” Mr. Roku objected.

“Hmm, maybe so.”
“Maybe a day.”

“If it could be neatly plucked in a day or two, there’d be no trouble at all.”

“Yeah—depending on how it goes, it might take a week.”
“Look at how he’s meticulously stroking his jaw all around while plucking them.”

“Hmm.”
“New hairs might sprout before he’s even done plucking out the old ones.”

“Anyway, it must be painful,” Mr. Kei said, changing the subject.

“It must hurt, no doubt.”
“Shall I give you some advice?”

“What?”

“Cut it out, I said.”

“That’s unnecessary. Instead of that, why don’t we ask how many days it’ll take for all of them to be plucked?”

“Yeah, sure. You’re the one who’s going to ask.”

“I don’t want to—you’re the one who’s going to ask.”

“We could ask, but it’d be boring, wouldn’t it?”

“So, well, let’s just drop it,” Mr. Kei withdrew his own proposal without a hint of reluctance.

The once-interrupted sound of the village blacksmith resounded through the clear sky’s depths—clang clang—as if intending to shatter the autumn that had settled over the mountain village today into layers of lightning.

“Whenever I hear that sound, I can’t help but recall the tofu shop,” Mr. Kei said, crossing his arms.

“How on earth did a tofu shop kid end up like that?”

“What do you mean—‘end up like that’?”

“But you don’t act like a tofu shop kid.”

“Tofu shop owners, fishmongers—if you want to become something, you can become anything.”

“Well, I suppose it’s all about the mind then.”

“It’s not just the mind. No one knows how many bright tofu shop owners exist in this world. Yet they remain tofu shop owners their whole lives. It’s pitiable.”

“Then what does it take?” Mr. Roku asked in a boyish tone.

“What do you mean? You still resolve to become one anyway?”

“Even if someone resolves to become [something], society often refuses to allow it.”

“That’s precisely why it’s pitiable. If you’re born into an unfair world, there’s no helping it—so even when society won’t grant it, you resolve to become whatever you want yourself.”

“What if you resolve to become something but can’t?”

“Even if I can’t become it, I’ll still resolve to. While I keep resolving to, society will start doing it for me,” Mr. Kei said cheekily.

“If everything goes as neatly as you’ve ordered, that’d be splendid. Ha ha ha ha.”

“But I’ve been doing exactly that up until today.”

“That’s exactly why I say you don’t act like a tofu shop owner.”

“I might end up becoming like a tofu shop owner again from here on out, I wonder.”
“It’d be a hassle. Ha ha ha ha.”

“If you do become one, what do you plan to do?”

“If I do become one, then society is at fault. Even though I’m trying to make this unfair world fair, if society won’t listen, then they’re the ones to blame.”

“But what a world this is—if a tofu shop owner could rise to greatness, then naturally noblemen would end up becoming tofu shop owners themselves, wouldn’t they?”

“Noblemen—what kind of people are they?”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘noblemen’?”
“You know, like the nobility or the wealthy class,” Mr. Roku promptly explained.

“Hmm—nobility and the wealthy? They’re still tofu shops even now, you know.”

“It’s because those tofu shop folks ride around in carriages, build villas, and act like the world belongs only to them that things are so rotten.”

“That’s exactly why we’ll turn them into real tofu shops.”

“Even if we’re willing to do it, they won’t comply, you know.”

“It’s by making those who won’t comply do so that society becomes fair.”

“If they can achieve fairness, that’d be just fine. Go right ahead and try!”

“It’s not enough to just try.”
“You’ve got to do it too.”
“If they just rode around in carriages or built villas, that’d be one thing—but they go around crushing people underfoot, those tofu shops.”
“Even though they’re tofu shops themselves,” Mr. Kei began growing heated.

“Have you ever actually seen such things happen?”

Mr. Kei snorted “Hmph” with his arms crossed.
The sound from the village blacksmith still clanged *clang-clang*.

“Still clanging away.—Hey, my arm’s thick, right?” Mr. Kei suddenly rolled up his sleeve and thrust his tanned arm in front of Mr. Roku.

“Your arm’s always been thick.”
“And it’s awfully dark, isn’t it?”
“Ever polished beans?”

“Polished beans, drew water.—Hey, if you step on someone’s foot by accident, who apologizes?”

“The one who steps—that’s the usual rule.”

“What if someone suddenly slaps another person’s head?”

“That’d be a lunatic, wouldn’t it?”

“If they’re a lunatic, does that mean they don’t have to apologize?”

“Well, let’s see. If you can make them apologize, then it’s better to do so.”

“That a lunatic would make you apologize—isn’t that astonishing?”

“Do such lunatics even exist?”

“All those tofu shop folks nowadays are just such lunatics. They oppress people and then try to make them bow their heads! Under normal circumstances, it’s human beings who should be apologizing, don’t you think, you?”

“Of course that’s human nature.”
“However, if they’re lunatic tofu shops, there’s nothing to be done but leave them be.”

Mr. Kei snorted again.
After a while,

“If letting such lunatics run rampant is what this world does, then it’s better not to have been born into it at all,” Mr. Kei muttered as if to himself.

The village blacksmith’s clanging reverberated from one end of the quiet hamlet to the other whenever their conversation paused.

“They’re really going at it nonstop with that clanging.”
“That sound… it reminds me of the bell at Kankinji Temple.”

“It’s gotten under your skin oddly, hasn’t it?”
“Does that Kankinji Temple bell have some link to these lunatic tofu shops? —And just how did you go from being a tofu shop owner’s son to what you are now? Won’t you tell me the story?”

“I could tell you, but doesn’t it feel rather cold here? Let’s take a quick dip in the hot spring before dinner. You don’t mind?”

“Yeah, let’s go in.”

Mr. Kei and Mr. Roku, hanging hand towels, descended to the garden.
The palm-fiber-thonged rental geta bore the inn’s branded mark in the metropolitan style.

II

“What’s this water good for?” Mr. Kei asked from inside the tub, making splashing noises.

“What’s it good for, I wonder.”
“According to the analysis chart, it seems to cure everything—but no matter how much you splash around scrubbing that belly button, it won’t fix your outie.”

“It’s perfectly clear,” said Mr. Outie, scooping hot spring water into both hands and tasting it.
After a moment,
“No taste at all,” he said while spitting it into the sink.
“It’s fine to drink,” Mr. Roku said, gulping it down.

Mr. Kei stopped washing his navel and, leaning his elbows on the edge of the tub, gazed absently outside through the glass.
Mr. Roku submerged only his neck in the bathwater and looked up at the other man from his navel upward.

“You really have a good physique.”
“You’re completely untamed, aren’t you?”

“Well, I come from a tofu shop.”
“With a poor physique, I can’t take on nobles and rich folks.”
“We’re one against many here.”

“You talk as if you’ve got someone to pick a fight with.”
“Who’s this actual enemy you’re talking about?”

“Anyone will do.”

“Hahaha! You’re so carefree.”
“You seem tough in a fight, but I’m surprised at how sturdy your legs are.”
“If I hadn’t been with you, I wouldn’t have had the courage to come this far yesterday.”
“To be honest, I thought about bowing out midway.”

“It really was a little pitiable for you, wasn’t it?”
“Even then, I was trying to hold back quite a bit while walking.”

“Really? If that’s true, it’s terrific.—Something feels fishy about it.”
“I hate how you immediately get carried away.”

“Hahaha! As if I’d get carried away.”
“The ones getting carried away are just the nobility and the wealthy class.”

“The nobility and wealthy class again?”
“They’re your mortal enemies, aren’t they?”

“Even without money, I’m still the greatest tofu shop in the land.”

“That’s right—no less than the greatest tofu shop in the land.”
“You’re a wild man of brute strength.”

“You—what’s that yellow flower blooming outside the window?”

Mr. Roku twisted his neck around in the bathwater.

“It’s a pumpkin.”

“You’re talking nonsense.
Pumpkins grow along the ground.
That’s twined around bamboo and climbed up onto the bathhouse roof!”

“If it climbs onto the roof, can it even be a pumpkin?”

“But isn’t it strange for flowers to be blooming this late?”

“Who cares? Even if it’s strange, pumpkin flowers will bloom on the roof.”

“Is that a song you’re singing?”

“Well, I didn’t intend the first half to be a song, but by the latter half, it somehow turned into one.”

“Since pumpkins grow on roofs, tofu shop folks end up riding in carriages.”
“That’s utterly preposterous!”

“More righteous indignation? Even if you rant here in the mountains, it won’t accomplish anything.”
“Rather than that, let’s hurry up and climb Aso to see the red rocks spewing from the crater—but don’t go jumping in.—Hmm… I’m a bit worried.”

“The crater must actually be something fierce.”
“I hear rocks like pickling stones turn bright red and erupt into the sky.”
“Since it’s spewing out over three or four blocks in every direction, it must be quite spectacular.—We have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Well, I’ll get up when I have to, but once we’re on the mountain, I refuse to walk that fast,” Mr. Roku immediately laid down his conditions.

“Anyway, we’ll get up at six…”

“We’re getting up at six?”

“We’ll get up at six, leave the bath by seven-thirty, eat breakfast at eight, be done in the restroom by eight-thirty, then depart the inn, visit Aso Shrine at eleven, and start climbing from noon.”

“Huh, who’s doing all that?”

“Me and you.”

“It’s like you’re climbing all by yourself.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What a fortunate blessing. It’s like I’m your ceremonial attendant or something.”

“Hmph,”
“By the way, what should we eat for lunch?”
“Maybe we should get udon after all,” Kei proposed, planning tomorrow’s meal.

“I’ll pass on udon.”
“The udon around here’s like gnawing cedar chopsticks—it bloats my stomach something awful.”

“Then soba?”

“Soba’s out too.”
“I’m not cut out for noodles—can’t survive on ’em.”

“Then what do you plan to eat?”

“I want to eat a proper feast.”

“There’s no way there’s a proper feast in the middle of Mount Aso. So under these circumstances, let’s just make do with udon for now…”

“This whole ‘under these circumstances’ thing is a bit odd. Under these circum—what circumstances exactly are you talking about?”

“Because this trip is meant to cultivate robust tastes…”

“Is that what this trip is? I had no idea! Robust tastes are all well and good, but I’m flatly against udon. Even though I look like this, I’m a man of good social standing, you know.”

“That’s why being soft won’t do.”
“When I was short on school funds, I once managed with just two cups of rice a day.”

“You must’ve withered away,” Mr. Roku feigned concern.

“I didn’t waste away that much—the real trouble was the lice.”
“Ever had a lice infestation?”

“Not me.”
“Our stations in life differ, y’know.”

“Try enduring it sometime.”
“They aren’t creatures you can easily eradicate completely.”

“Why don’t you try washing them in boiling water then?”

“Boiling water? Boiling water might work.”
“But you can’t do laundry without money.”

“Ah, I see—you didn’t have a single penny.”

“Not a single penny.”

“What happened?”

“Since there was no choice, I laid the undershirt on the threshold, picked up a round stone that fit my hand, and started tapping away.”
“But before the lice died, the undershirt tore apart.”

“Oh dear.”

“Moreover, the innkeeper found it and ordered me to leave.”

“That must’ve been quite a hassle for you, huh?”

“Nah, it’s nothing to fret over. If I let something like that get to me, I wouldn’t have made it this far. From here on out, I’ll be turning all the nobility and wealthy class into tofu sellers, one by one. No sense getting worked up over trifles.”

“So even someone like me will end up hollering ‘Tofuuu! Fried tofu! Tofu fritters!’ while peddling on the streets, huh?”

“You’re not even nobility.”

“I may not be nobility, but I’ve got plenty of money.”

“Even if you do, that amount’s nowhere near enough.”

“With this much, I wonder if I don’t even qualify as a tofu seller.”
“You really looked down on my wealth, didn’t you?”

“By the way, could you scrub my back?”

“Are you going to scrub mine too?”

“I don’t mind scrubbing yours.
The guys in the next room were also scrubbing each other’s backs, you know.”

“The neighbors’ backs are much of a muchness, so it’s fair, but your back and mine differ a lot in surface area, so it’s unfair.”

“If you’re going to make such a fuss, I’ll just wash myself alone,” said Kei, planting both feet firmly in the bath basin with a grunt. He twisted the hand towel tightly in his hands and—still gripping both ends—slapped it against his grime-streaked back with a sharp crack, angling it diagonally. As a muscle bulged suddenly on his upper arm, the water-soaked towel began vigorously scrubbing his back, fleshy as a hillside.

As the towel moved, Kei’s thick eyebrows scrunched together tightly. His nostrils expanded into triangles, and the wings of his nose flared out to both sides. His mouth remained clenched as if preparing to disembowel himself, splitting open all the way to his ears.

“You look just like a Nio.”
“It’s Nio-style bathing.”
“How you manage to make such a fierce face.”
“This is strange.”
“You could wash your back without all that eye-rolling, you know.”

Kei said nothing and scrubbed away vigorously.
He would scrub for a while, then periodically dip the towel into the hot spring to soak it thoroughly with water.
Each time he soaked it, a mixture of sweat, oil, grime, and hot spring water would fly fifteen or sixteen droplets onto Roku’s face.

“I surrender to this.”
“Excuse me for a moment—I’m heading over to the washing area,” said Roku, leaping out of the bath.
Though he had leaped out, in his utmost admiration, he stood rooted at the washing area, gazing blankly at the Nio-style bathing.

“What on earth are those neighbors anyway?” Kei asked from inside the bath.

“This isn’t about the neighbors.”
“Your face is strange.”

“I’m done.”
“Ah, feels good,” said Kei, releasing one end of the towel and immediately sinking his large, stone-like back into the hot spring with a splash.
The brimming bathwater recoiled all at once, surging up violently from the tub’s depths.
With a roaring rush, it overflowed into the drainage channel.

“Ah, this feels good,” said Kei amid the churning waves.

“No wonder it feels good when you act without restraint like that.”
“You’re a real brute.”

“Those neighbors are just going on about bamboo swords and armor sleeves, aren’t they? Who on earth are they?” Kei remarked nonchalantly.

“It’s probably the same as you obsessing over the nobility and wealthy class.”

“Mine has a deep reason behind it, but theirs—I can’t make heads or tails of it.”

“Well, they do understand that themselves—that’s where they had their armor sleeves taken, see—” Roku mimicked the neighbors.

“Hahahaha! So that’s where they dropped their bamboo sword, see—”
“Hahahaha! They’re really carefree, aren’t they—see—” said Kei, mimicking them.

“Well, those guys might actually be social reformers.”
“See, isn’t that exactly like those illustrated storybooks?”
“Y’know—‘So-and-so, who’s actually the pirate ringleader Kezuri Kueimon’...”

“Not very pirate-like at all.”
“When I went to take a bath earlier, I peeked in—both were snoring away on wooden pillows.”

“With heads simple enough to use wooden pillows—no wonder they had their armor sleeves taken there, see—” Roku kept up the mimicry.

“So their bamboo swords got taken too, see—?”
“Hahahaha!”
“They were sleeping with some red-covered book still lying on their chests.”

“That red book—you know—it’s all about dropping bamboo swords and having armor sleeves taken, see—” said Roku, never letting up on the mimicry.

“What could that book be?”

“Iga no Suigetsu,” Roku answered without hesitation.

“Iga no Suigetsu? What’s ‘Iga no Suigetsu’?”

“Don’t you know Iga no Suigetsu?”

“I don’t know.
If I don’t know, is it a disgrace?” Kei tilted his head slightly.

“It’s not a disgrace, but I can’t talk about it.”

“Can’t talk about it? Why?”

“What do you mean why? Don’t you know Araki Mataemon?”

“Hmm, Mataemon, huh?”

“Do you know him?” Roku said as he got back into the bath.
Kei stood up abruptly in the bath again.

“I’ve had enough of your Nio-style bathing.”

“I’m fine now—I won’t expose my back.
If I stay in too long, I get lightheaded, so I stand up like this every now and then.”

“If you’re just going to stand there, that’s fine.—So, do you know Araki Mataemon?”

“Mataemon? Yeah, I think I’ve heard that name somewhere before.”
“Wasn’t he a retainer of Toyotomi Hideyoshi?” said Kei, uttering something utterly absurd.

“Hahahaha! This guy is unbelievable.”
“You talk big about turning the nobility and wealthy class into tofu shop workers, but you really don’t know anything, do you?”

“Hold on.”
“Let me think for a moment.”
“Mataemon, right?”
“Mataemon… Araki Mataemon, right?”
“Wait a moment—Araki Mataemon.”
“Yeah, got it.”

“What is it?”

“A sumo wrestler.”

“Hahahaha! Araki—hahahaha! Araki Mataemon is a sumo wrestler.”
“Finally, he was utterly appalled.”
“You’re truly ignorant, aren’t you?”
Roku roared with laughter in great delight.

“Is it really that funny?”
“Funny? Anyone you told would laugh!”
“Is he really such a famous man?”
“Exactly—it’s Araki Mataemon, isn’t it?”

“So I do think I’ve heard that name somewhere before.”

“Come now—isn’t it said his final refuge was Kyushu Sagara?”

“They might say that, but I don’t recall hearing that phrase.”

“What a hopeless man you are.”

“I’m not troubled at all. Not knowing someone like Araki Mataemon doesn’t affect my character one bit. What’s truly hopeless is someone who whines endlessly about a mere five-*ri* mountain path.”

“Bringing up brute strength is unfair—it’s utterly beyond me. When it comes to that, it’s always those tofu-shop types who dominate. I should’ve apprenticed at a tofu shop myself.”

“First of all, you’ve always been weak-willed from the start. You have no willpower at all.”

“I do consider myself to have quite a lot of it, you know. It’s only when I encounter udon that I realize just how weak-willed I am—even I have to admit that.”

“Hahahaha! You’re talking such nonsense.”

“But for a tofu seller, your body’s too pristine, don’t you think?”

“Even though I’m this dark?”

“Putting aside black and white, don’t tofu sellers usually have tattoos?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know why, but they do have tattoos.”
“You—why didn’t you get one?”

“What nonsense are you spouting!
“Would a noble man like me ever do something so foolish?”
“If the nobility and wealthy class got tattoos, it might suit them, but such things don’t suit me.”
“Even Araki Mataemon wouldn’t have gotten one.”

“Araki Mataemon, huh? Now that’s a problem. My investigation hasn’t reached that far yet, you know.”

“That’s beside the point—anyway, we’re getting up at six tomorrow.”

“And then we’ll just end up eating udon regardless, I suppose. My weak will might be troublesome, but I’m equally worn out by your ironclad resolve. Ever since we left home, not a single thing I say gets through. I’ve been meekly obeying every command without protest. Tofu shop principles are harsh indeed.”

“What—if we aren’t this forceful, they’ll keep growing more arrogant.”
“Me?”

“What do you mean? It’s the folks out there—the wealthy class, the nobility, all those types—the ones acting all high and mighty.”

“But that’s missing the point. I can’t stand submitting to tofu shop principles just to take the fall for those kinds of people.”
“I’m shocked.”
“From now on, I refuse to travel with you.”

“What do I care?”

“You may not care, but I care a great deal!”
“On top of that, the travel expenses are neatly split down the middle—it’s the height of folly!”

“But thanks to me, you’ll get to see the magnificent spectacle of Aso’s volcanic crater.”

“Poor you.”
“Even I could climb Aso alone!”

“But the nobility and wealthy class are surprisingly spineless…”

“Another scapegoat? How about you stop with substitutes and take this to the real nobility and wealthy instead?”

“I intend to take it to them eventually.”
“Spineless—they don’t grasp reason, and as individuals, they’re not worth three pennies.”

“So let’s just turn them all into tofu shops.”

“I’m thinking of dealing with them eventually, you know.”
“Just thinking about it’s dangerous.”

“What do you mean? If you keep thinking about it year in and year out, things’ll work themselves out.”

“You’re remarkably patient.”
“Though, among those I know…”
“There are those who kept thinking they’d get cholera, and then finally did get cholera.”
“Yours too—I hope it works out well.”

“By the way, that old man plucking his beard came over with a hand towel.”

“Now’s a good time—let me ask you something.”

“I’m about to get dizzy from the steam—I’m getting out.”

“Well, fine then—you don’t have to get out.”
“If you don’t want to, I’ll ask instead—so just stay in a bit longer.”

“Oh! The bamboo sword and kote came along after us!”

“Well.”
“They really did all come together.”
“There’s still more coming after them.”
“Oh, here comes the old woman.”
“I wonder if the old woman will also get into this bathtub.”

“I’m getting out anyway.”

“If the old woman’s getting in, I’ll get out anyway.”

When they exited the bathhouse, a chilly autumn wind slipped through their sleeves and blew straight through their bare skin up to their navels.
Kei—his navel protruding—let out an unrestrained “Achoo!” followed by a thunderous sneeze.
At the entrance, five or six white hibiscus blooms flowered lonesomely in the autumn dusk.
In the direction they looked up, Mount Aso roared distantly yet thunderously.

“So we’re climbing up there, huh?” said Mr. Roku.

“It’s roaring, I tell you.”
“How delightful,” said Mr. Kei.

III

“Miss, isn’t this fellow getting fat?”

“He’s grown quite plump.”

“Fat? But I’m a tofu shop man through and through.”

“Hee hee.”

“What’s so funny about being a tofu shop man?”

“It’s funny because you’ve got a face like Saigō Takamori’s for a tofu peddler! Anyway—with this temple gruel—you’ll never make it up the mountain tomorrow.”

“Now he wants another feast.”

“Call this wanting food? This slop will leave him malnourished.”

“What are you talking about? This much of a feast is more than enough! There’s yuba, shiitake mushrooms, potatoes, tofu—all sorts of things here!”

“There are various things, it’s true… There are indeed various things—even your tools of the trade are here—but this is a problem. Yesterday you were made to eat nothing but udon. Today it’s nothing but yuba and shiitake again. Ugh…”

“You—try eating this potato. It’s freshly dug and exceedingly delicious.”

“Doesn’t it have an exceedingly robust flavor—hey Miss, isn’t there anything else to go with it?”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing.”

“That ‘nothing’ is a problem.”
“Then you have eggs, right?”

“We do have eggs.”

“Bring them half-boiled.”

“How shall I prepare them?”

“Make them half-boiled.”

“Shall I boil them?”

“Well, boil them but only halfway.”
“Don’t you know what half-boiled means?”

“No.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know.”

“This is utterly exasperating.”

“How would you like them prepared?”

“Whatever’s fine—just bring the eggs. And also—hey, wait a second. Do you drink beer?”

"I don’t mind drinking," Mr. Kei replied calmly.

“If you don’t mind drinking, then you don’t have to drink.—So we’re calling it quits, then?”

“There’s no need to call it quits. Anyway, let’s drink a little.”

“You and your ‘anyway,’ ha ha ha. You’re the most ‘anyway’-fixated man alive. So when tomorrow rolls around, you’ll say ‘anyway, let’s eat udon,’ I suppose.—Miss, bring the beer while you’re at it. Eggs and beer. Got it?”

“We ain’t got beer.”

“No beer?—So you’re saying there’s no beer.”
“It almost feels like we’re not on Japanese soil anymore.”
“What a pitiful place.”

“If there isn’t any, it’s fine not to drink,” Mr. Kei replied calmly once more.

“We don’t have beer, but we do have Ebisu.”

“Ha ha ha ha! This keeps getting stranger.”
“Hey, you—they say there’s no beer but there’s Ebisu. Want to try drinking that Ebisu instead?”

“Yeah, I’ll drink it.—That Ebisu’s still in a jar, right, Miss?” said Kei, finally addressing the maid directly.

“Yep,” the maid replied in her Higo dialect.

“Anyway, just pull out that stopper.
“Bring the whole jar here.”

“Yep.”

The maid stood up with a knowing look and left.

She had a narrow moslin sash tied in a short knot and draped over her hips, wearing a kasuri-patterned straight-sleeve kimono with the sleeves hiked up to her elbows. As for her hair alone, styled in an unusual Western-style updo, it seemed to thoroughly chill Mr. Roku and Mr. Kei's livers.

“That maid really stands out,” said Mr. Ruku.
Mr.Kei kept his composure,
“Exactly,” he replied effortlessly—
“A simpleton makes for a good woman,” added Mr.Ruku.
Then she brought it over and attached it as clumsily as grafting bamboo onto wood.
“You do have such rugged tastes.”

“Yeah.”
“Actually—if you apply civilized education to country folk’s minds—splendid individuals could emerge…”
“What a waste—”

“If you think it’s such a waste, why don’t you take her to Tokyo and try training her?”

“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea.”
“But before that, we’ve got to strip off this veneer of civilization.”

“Since the skin’s so thick, it’ll be quite a struggle,” said Roku with a watermelon-like remark.

“Even if it breaks, we’ll strip it off regardless.”
“They put on these refined faces while wallowing in vulgarity.”
“If it’s some penniless fool, it ends with them alone—but when it’s those of high status? That’s trouble.”
“Because they spread their vulgar rot through the whole of society.”
“A damn plague.”
“And yet those with status or money are precisely where you find such rotten characters.”

“And it’s precisely those types whose skin grows all the thicker, I suppose.”

“Their outward appearances are impeccably splendid indeed.”
“But their inner selves are far more worn-down than that maid’s—it makes me sick.”

“Is that so? Well then, maybe I’ll go ahead and join the honorable ranks of the hardy faction myself.”

“Naturally. So first thing’s first—we’ll wake up at six tomorrow…”

“To eat udon at lunchtime?”

“To view Aso’s crater…”

“Make sure you don’t throw a tantrum and leap in, I suppose.”

“In response to the most sublime vital phenomena between heaven and earth, we’ll cultivate a grand spirit and transcend petty worldly matters.”

“If you transcend too much, you’ll end up sick of the world—that’d be trouble. So let’s just moderately transcend that part and leave it at that, shall we? With these legs of mine, I can’t possibly manage such lofty transcendence.”

“You’re a weak man.”

The maid in straight sleeves arranged on the tray one bottle of beer, two Western-style cups, and four eggs, then brought it over.

“Here comes Ebisu!”
“The funny thing is, this Ebisu isn’t even beer.”
“Come on, have a drink,” said Mr. Roku, handing the Western-style cup to his companion.

“Yeah, I’ll take two of those eggs while I’m at it,” said Mr. Kei.

“But I’m the one who ordered these eggs!”

“But are you planning to eat all four?”

“Since I’m concerned about tomorrow’s udon, I plan to carry two of these along.”

“Yeah, then I’ll give up,” said Mr. Kei, immediately abandoning the idea.

“Since you’re giving up, I suppose I’ll give them to you. Normally it’d be extravagant for the hardy faction to eat eggs, but since I feel sorry for you—go ahead.—Miss, where’s this Ebisu made?”

“Mostly from Kumamoto.”

“Hmm, Kumamoto-made Ebisu? Not bad at all. How’s yours? The Kumamoto Ebisu?”

“Mm.”
“It’s just like Tokyo-made ones after all.—Hey Miss, Ebisu’s fine but this egg’s raw!” said Kei as he cracked an egg and frowned slightly.

“Mm.”

“But you said it was raw.”

“Mm.”

“I can’t get a clear answer here. Didn’t you order them soft-boiled? Yours is raw too?” said Kei, turning from the maid to face Roku.

“Ordered soft-boiled and got undercooked? Let me crack one of mine—oh, this one’s no good…”

“Hard-boiled eggs?” said Mr. Kei, craning his neck to look at the other’s tray.

“Fully cooked.”
“How about this one? —Hmm, this one’s fully cooked too.”
“Miss, isn’t this a hard-boiled egg?” said Roku, now turning to the maid.

“Mm.”

“Is that so?”
“Mm.”
“It’s like we’ve come to a country where no one speaks our language.—So the other guest gets raw eggs, and I’m stuck with hard-boiled ones?”

“Mm.”

“Why did you do such a thing?”

“I half-boiled them for you.”

“Ah, I see.
“Well, this is quite the accomplishment.
“Ha ha ha ha—do you grasp the trick with the half-boiled eggs now?” said Roku, slapping his knee.

“Ha ha ha ha—it’s a simple trick.”

“Just like watching a classic setup and punchline.”

“Did I make a mistake? Should I boil those ones properly for you?”

“Never mind, this’ll do.—Miss, how many ri is it from here to Aso?” said Kei, abruptly shifting the conversation away from eggs.

“This is Aso.”

“If this is Aso, there’s no need for us to wake up at six tomorrow.”
“Why don’t we stay a few more days and head straight back to Kumamoto?” said Mr. Roku promptly.

“Please do stay as long as you like.”

“Since she’s gone to the trouble of urging us like that—what do you say? Why don’t we just go ahead and do it?” said Mr. Roku, turning toward Mr. Kei.
Mr. Kei ignored him.

“If this is also Aso, then it must be part of Aso District,” he continued pressing the maid.

“Mm.”

“Then how far is it to Aso Shrine?”

“It’s three ri to the Shrine.”

“And up to the mountain top...?”

“From the Shrine, it’s two ri.”

“Must be brutal up on that mountain,” Roku suddenly interjected.

“Mm.”

“Have you ever climbed it before?”

“No.”

“So you don’t know anything about it.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“If you don’t know, there’s nothing for it.”
“And here I was hoping to get some proper information.”

“Are you planning to climb the mountain?”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to climb up quick,” said Kei.

“I can’t stand the thought of climbing,” retorted Roku.

“Hohoho, in that case, why don’t you stay here all by yourself?”

“Yeah, lying here listening to that roaring sound seems easier.”
“The roaring—it’s gotten way fiercer than before, you know.”

“That’s right—it’s grown much stronger.”
“Must be because it’s nighttime.”

“The mountain’s gotten a bit rough out there.”

“Does it roar like this whenever it gets rough?”

“You see,”
“When it gets like this, lots of yonaga comes down.”

“What’s ‘yonaga’?”

“It’s ash.”

The maid opened the shoji and rubbed her index finger along the engawa.

“Take a look, if you please,” she said, extending her blackened fingertip.

“I see—it’s been falling all along. It wasn’t like this yesterday,” said Mr. Kei admiringly.

“You see. The mountain has been getting a bit rough out there, you see.”

“Hey, you still planning to climb no matter how rough it gets? If it’s stormy, why don’t we postpone it a little?”

“If it gets stormy, it’ll be even more enjoyable. It’s not often you get to see it when it’s this turbulent. When it’s stormy and when it’s not, I hear the intensity of the flames differs drastically. Hey, Miss.”

“Look, tonight it looks extremely red. Why don’t you step outside and take a look, you see?”

“Well then,” Mr. Kei immediately dashed out to the engawa.

“Whoa, this is glowing embers!”
“Hey, you! Come out here quick and see!”
“It’s incredible!”

“Is it incredible? If it’s so incredible, maybe I should take a look. Let me see.”
“Whoa, this is—now that’s something fierce—with this, there’s no way we can make it.”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? — You’ll get burned alive on the climb up!”

“Are you spouting nonsense?”
“It’s because it’s night that it looks like that.”
“Actually, it’s been this active since daytime.”
“Hey, Miss.”

“You see.”

“It may look harmless enough—but make no mistake—it’s treacherous. Even staying here like this, somehow my face feels hot,” said Roku, stroking his own cheeks.

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“But even your face looks red. Look, outside that fence over there—there’s a vast rice paddy. Look how those green leaves are all lit up like this, aren’t they?”

“That’s all lies! What you’re seeing is starlight.”

“Starlight and firelight have a different quality to them.”

“You really are quite ignorant.”
“You—that fire’s five or six ri away.”

“No matter how many ri away it is—look how the whole sky over there’s turned crimson!” retorted Roku, pointing in that direction and drawing a large circle with his fingertip.

“Well, it’s nighttime.”

“But it’s night…”

“You’re ignorant. You don’t need to know Araki Mataemon, but you ought to be ashamed not to grasp something this basic,” said Mr. Kei, glancing sidelong at his companion’s face.

“Does this have to do with my character? If it’s about my character, I can endure it, but when it comes to my life, I surrender.”

“You’re still going on about that.—Then go ahead and ask Miss here.”
“Hey, Miss.”
“Even with that much fire coming out, you can still climb the mountain, right?”

“Well…”

“Is it safe?” Roku peered into the maid’s face.

“Well…”
“Even women do climb it, you see.”

“If even women are climbing it, then men have no choice but to follow suit. What a farce this has turned into.”
“What a ridiculous situation this has turned into.”

“Anyway, tomorrow at six o’clock, wake up…”

“I get it already.”

Having dismissed her with those words, Roku flopped down inside the room. After he left, Kei remained silent, brows furrowed, staring at the pillar of fire standing straight from the abyss to midair.

IV

“Hey, we’re about to turn here and finally start climbing, right?” said Mr. Kei, turning back.

“Do we turn here?”

“Anyway, I was told that since you can see the temple’s stone steps at the dead end, we should turn left without entering the gate.”

“The udon shop old man, huh?” said Roku, repeatedly stroking his chest.

“That’s right.”

“There’s no telling what that old man might say.”

“Why?”

“Why? Out of all the trades in the world, choosing to become an udon shop owner—that’s where the trouble starts.”

“Being an udon shop owner is honest work.”
“They’re far nobler than those who pile up gold and make sport of crushing the poor!”

“Noble it may be—but running an udon shop doesn’t suit my temperament. Still, now that I’ve been made to eat their wretched noodles, griping about the owner won’t undo it. Let’s just bear with it and turn here.”

“The stone steps are visible, but is that the temple? There’s no main hall or anything.”

“Must’ve been burned down by Mount Aso’s fires. Didn’t I tell you?—Hey, this weather’s turning downright ominous.”

“No, it’s fine. There’s divine favor.”

“Where?”

“It’s everywhere. Where there’s will, divine favor abounds.”

“You’re hopelessly self-assured. First you join the Hardy Faction, then switch to the Divine Favor Sect. Next you’ll enlist in the Tenchu Group and barricade yourself on Mount Tsukuba.”

“I’ve been with the Tenchu Group since my tofu shop days. —Those who torment the poor—even tofu sellers are human! Tormenting them serves no purpose—it’s mere cruel amusement! Appalling!”

“When did you ever encounter such a thing?”

“Whenever—it doesn’t matter. Jie and Zhou have been known as villains since ancient times, but the twentieth century is teeming with these tyrants—and what’s irritatingly petty is how thickly they’re cloaked in civilization’s veneer.”

“Maybe it’s better if they’re all husk without substance. After all, when you’ve too much money and boredom, that’s when such antics tempt you, no? Give fools gold and they’ll usually end up playing Jie and Zhou. Here’s me—a virtuous gentleman stuck in poverty—while that wretched lot uses their coins to torment people. What a tiresome world we’ve made. Tell me—why not bundle all those scoundrels together and pitch them headfirst into Aso’s crater, straight down to hell?”

“I’ll drop them soon,” said Mr. Kei, looking up at the darkly swirling smoke and planting his straw sandal-clad feet firmly.

“What a show of force!”
“You alright?”
“Don’t go jumping in before we’ve even tossed that bundled bunch down there.”

“That sound’s intense.”

“Feels like the ground’s already shaking.—Hey, try pressing your ear to the dirt and listen.”

“What’s it like?”

“That’s a tremendous sound. It’s definitely rumbling beneath our feet.”
“Despite that, the smoke isn’t coming.”
“It’s the wind. Since it’s a north wind, it’s blowing to the right.”
“With so many trees, we can’t tell direction. We’ll probably get our bearings if we climb a bit more.”

For a while, they proceeded through the groves of mixed trees.
The path was less than three feet wide.
No matter how close they were, walking side by side was out of the question.
Mr. Kei swung his large feet leisurely and went ahead.
Mr. Roku hunched his small frame and followed behind in small steps.
Following along, he was impressed by the size of Mr. Kei’s footprints.
While walking along in admiration, he gradually fell behind.

The path twisted left and right in a steep upward climb, so within less than thirty minutes, he lost sight of Mr. Kei’s figure.
Even when he peered through the gaps between the trees, he could see nothing.
There wasn’t a soul descending the mountain.
He encountered no one ascending either.
Hoofprints of horses dotted the path here and there.
Occasionally, fragments of straw sandals tangled in thorns.
With no other traces of human presence around him, Mr. Roku—his belly still stuffed with udon—began to feel uneasy.

Compared to yesterday’s crystal-clear sky, they had been somewhat uneasy about the fog that had lingered since leaving the inn that morning, but clinging to the faint hope that it would clear up, they finally reached Aso Shrine. When the shrine priest’s ritual clap echoed through the hushed cedar treetops of the shrine’s white-pillared hall, something—a single drop—fell from the sky above onto his forehead. From the moment when steam from boiling udon blew through a tear in the shoji screen and drifted white to the right, it had seemed that rain might come by afternoon.

After they had come about a quarter-ri through the mixed grove, the ominous sky finally seemed unable to hold back, and the sound of rain dripping from the treetops swept northward. From behind, a new sound immediately brushed past their ears and raced northward once more with the fluttering leaves. Mr. Roku hunched his neck and tsked.

In about an hour, the forest came to an end.
Rather than saying it ended, it would be more apt to say it vanished all at once.

He turned around. Behind him—though he couldn’t tell how far—lay only the single path they had carved through. To the east and west, beyond vast swathes of lush green grass rippling in endless waves, thick black smoke swelled upward from behind.
Although the crater itself was not visible, the source of the smoke lay right before their noses.

The forest ended, and a short distance into the grassy plain stood the giant monk-like figure of Mr. Kei, gazing up at the sky.
His umbrella remained folded, and without even wearing his hat, he thrust his crew-cut head up from the grass like a chestnut burr, surveying the terrain.

“Hey! Wait a moment!”

“Hey! It’s getting rough! It’s getting rougherrr! Hang in there!”

“I’ll pull myself together, so wait a bit!” said Mr. Roku, desperately crawling up through the grass. Waiting for Mr. Roku who was finally catching up,

“Hey, what’s taking you so long?” snapped Mr. Kei.

“That’s why I told you udon was a bad idea! Ugh, this is unbearable.—Hey, what’s wrong with your face? It’s pitch black.”

“I see—yours is pitch black too.”

Mr. Kei casually wiped his face from head to chin with one sleeve of his white summer kimono.
Mr. Roku took out a handkerchief from his waist.

“I see—when I wipe it off, the kimono turns sooty black.”

“My handkerchief’s like this too.”

“This is terrible,” said Mr. Kei, exposing his shaved head to the rain as he surveyed the sky.

“It’s ash.
“The ash is dissolving in the rain and coming down.
“Look—see that silver grass up there,” said Mr. Roku, pointing.
The long leaves of silver grass, entirely bathed in ash and dampened, swayed.

“I see.”

“This is a problem.”

“Nah, it’s fine.
“It’s right there, you see.
“If we head for where that smoke is rising, there’s no problem.”

“It might not be a problem, but like this, I can’t tell where the path is.”

“That’s why I’ve been waiting here. This is the fork where you go left or right.”

“I see—both sides have become paths now.—But judging by where the smoke’s coming from, turning left seems better.”

“You think so?”
“I intend to go right.”
“Why?”

“Well, because there are horse hoofprints to the right, but none at all to the left.”

“Is that so,” said Mr. Roku, bending his body forward as he pushed aside the overhanging grass and advanced five or six steps to the left—but then immediately turned back.

“Doesn’t look good. There’s not a single footprint,” he said.

“There aren’t any, right?”

“Are there any on your side?”

“Yeah.”
“There’re just two.”

“Only two?”

“Yeah.”
“Just two.”
“Look—here and here,” said Mr. Kei, using his silk parasol’s tip to point out faint hoofprints beneath drooping silver grass.

“This is all? It’s unsettling...”
“Nah, it’s fine.”
“Isn’t this divine protection? Your divine protection has proven unreliable countless times.”

“What, this is divine protection?” Mr. Kei had barely finished speaking when a sudden gust of wind, slicing through the rain, mercilessly snatched Mr. Roku’s straw hat and sent it flying five or six ken ahead.
The overwhelming green grass swayed en masse away with the wind—just as their color seemed to shift before one’s eyes, they swept back again to their original form.

“How exhilarating! The wind’s fleeting footprints are visible upon the grass. Look at that,” said Mr. Kei, pointing at the undulating sea of blue grass that stretched in endless layers.

“It’s not exhilarating at all. My hat’s blown away.”

“Your hat flew away? So what if your hat flew away? I’ll go get it. Shall I go get it for you?”

Mr. Kei abruptly placed his silk umbrella on top of his own hat as a weight and dashed into the silver grass.

“Hey, is this the spot?”

“It’s a bit more to the left.”

Mr. Kei’s body gradually sank deeper into the blue.
In the end, only his head remained.
Left behind once more, Mr. Roku grew anxious.

“Hey!
Are you all right?”

“What?” A voice came from the head in the distance.

“Are you all right, huh?”

Eventually, Mr. Kei’s head disappeared.

“Hey!”

The black smoke belching from its nose tip swelled like a writhing mouse-gray pillar, ceaselessly undulating as it billowed upward before dissolving into the atmosphere and raining down mercilessly upon Mr. Roku’s head alongside the downpour.
Mr. Roku stared despondently toward where the head had vanished.

After some time, Mr. Kei’s head abruptly materialized about fifty meters away in an entirely unexpected direction.

“No hat here!”

“Forget the hat. Let’s hurry back.”
“Quickly now.”

Mr. Kei shook his buzzed head vigorously as he swam through the silver grass.

“Hey—where’d it get blown off to?”

“Before we could even settle where it was, it got blown away.”
“The hat’s fine, but I’ve had enough of walking.”

“Have you had enough already?”
“We haven’t even gotten there yet!”

“When I look at that smoke and this rain, it’s somehow so terrifying that I lose all energy to walk.”

“There’s no use acting up now. Isn’t it exhilarating?”
“That place where the billowing smoke’s coming out—”

“That billowing is what’s unsettling.”

“You shouldn’t joke around.
“We’re going to that billowing smoke.”
“And then we’ll peer right into it.”

“When I think about it, this is all completely unnecessary, isn’t it? If you peer in and then jump right in, there’d be no need for concern.”

“Let’s just keep going anyway.”

“Hahaha! ‘Anyway,’ you say? When you start with that ‘anyway,’ I end up getting dragged along. Just now, with your ‘anyway,’ I wound up eating udon. If I catch dysentery from this, it’ll be entirely thanks to your ‘anyway.’”

“It’s fine—I’ll take responsibility.”

“Even if you take responsibility for my illness, what good would that do? You can’t even get sick in my place.”

“Well, fine. I’ll nurse you, get infected myself, and make sure you’re saved.”

“Oh, in that case, I can rest easy. Well, suppose I’ll trudge on a bit more.”

“Look, the weather’s improved quite a bit. There really is divine providence after all.”

“What a blessed fortune. I’ll walk if I must walk, but if you don’t treat me to a feast tonight, I won’t have it.”

“Another feast? If you just keep walking, I’ll definitely treat you.”

“And another thing…”

“Do you have another demand?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“Shall I tell you your life story?”

“My life story—you know it as well as I do.”

“The part before what I knew about you.”
“From back when you were just a tofu shop apprentice…”

“I’m not some apprentice—I was the tofu shop owner’s son, you know.”

“Back when you were the tofu shop owner’s son—when you heard the bell of Kankin-ji Temple and suddenly grew to hate the wealthy—that’s your origin story, isn’t it?”

“Hahaha! If you want to hear it that badly, I’ll tell you.”
“In return, you’ll have to join the Hardy Faction.”
“You’ve never dealt with those villainous rich folks—that’s why you’re so carefree.”
“Have you ever read a book called Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities?”

“No.”
“I’ve read *Iga no Suigetsu*, but I don’t read Dickens.”

“That’s exactly why your sympathy for the poor remains shallow.—In that book’s final section, there’s a diary written by a doctor in prison, you know.”
“It’s truly harrowing.”

“Oh? What’s it about?”

“You see, it details how the nobility wielded their tyrannical power to torment commoners before France’s revolution erupted.”
“And tonight I’ll recount it all while lying here.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, well—something like the French Revolution is just a natural phenomenon.”
“When the wealthy and nobility act so violently, it’s only the natural conclusion.”
“See, it’s just like that roaring, spewing eruption over there,” said Kei, stopping to gaze at the billowing black smoke.

Piercing through the dense autumn rain that enveloped heaven and earth, thick smoke boiling up from a hundred ri below whirled into vortices—whirling again and again—and rose with an immeasurable mass of hundreds of tons.
A sound so immense it seemed every molecule of those hundreds of tons might vibrate and explode surged up from the far depths, that thick smoke leaping overhead along with it.

In the rain and wind, furrowing his caterpillar-like brows and gazing without distraction, Kei spoke in an exceedingly calm tone:

“Magnificent, don’t you think?” he said.

“Truly magnificent,” Roku answered earnestly.

“It’s terrifying.”
After a pause, he added.

“My spirit is that!” said Kei.

“A revolution?”

“Yeah.
“It’s a revolution of civilization.”
“A revolution of civilization…?”
“It doesn’t shed blood, you see.”

“If you don’t use a sword, what will you use then?”

Kei said nothing and slapped his own shaved head twice with the flat of his hand.

“Your head?”

“Yeah.
Since they’re coming at us with their heads, we’ll meet them with ours.”

“Who are we up against?”

“Those who torment helpless comrades with money and power.”

“Yeah.”

“Those who openly trade in society’s vices.”

“Yeah.”

“If it’s business, you can at least claim it’s for your livelihood.”

“Yeah.”

“Those who openly indulge in societal vices as their pastime must be struck down without fail.”

“Yeah.”
“You do it too.”
“Yeah, I’ll do it.”
Kei slowly turned on his heel.
Roku followed along in silence.

What filled the sky were smoke, rain, wind, and clouds.
What lay on the ground was blue silver grass, patrinia flowers, and lonely bellflowers scattered here and there—and nothing more.
The two proceeded through the uninhabited realm, solitary and forlorn.

The silver grass stood waist-high, its growth so dense that it overhung the path—less than a foot wide—from both sides. Even if they turned sideways, they couldn’t proceed without brushing against the grass. Brushing against it left rain-soaked ash clinging. Both Kei and Roku wore undyed white yukata and white loincloth trousers, with only their tabi socks and leggings dyed navy blue, rustling through the wet silver grass as they pressed onward. From the waist down, they were stained like ditch rats. Even their upper bodies, lured by the falling rain to catch the ash that blanketed them entirely, ended up in a state nearly akin to having plunged into a sewer.

The path was already so winding and twisting that even without the grass, one couldn’t discern where or how it continued.
With the grass covering it, this was all the more true.
Given that even the horse hoofprints left on the ground were barely discernible, they had no choice but to walk onward, leaving the rest to heaven.

The path they had initially taken, facing the rising smoke head-on, had somehow bent and gradually begun to catch ash rain from the side.
When the crater they had been viewing sideways now naturally came into view behind them, Kei abruptly stopped in his tracks.

“It seems we’ve taken the wrong path.”

“Yeah,” Roku said with a resentful look and likewise came to a stop.

“You’re making such a pitiful face. Is it tough?”

“I really am pathetic.”

“Does it hurt somewhere?”

“Blisters have broken out all over, and I can’t stand it.”

“This is a problem. Is it really that bad? How about grabbing onto my shoulder? It might make walking a bit easier.”

“Yeah,” Roku replied absentmindedly and remained motionless.

“When we get to the inn, I’ll tell you an interesting story.”

“Seriously, when are we going to reach the inn?”

“We were supposed to reach Yumoto by five o’clock, but that smoke looks strange.”
“Whether we go right or left, it remains right in front of our noses—neither getting farther nor closer.”

“It’s been right in front of our noses since we started climbing.”

“Well… Let’s go a bit further down this path and see.”

“Yeah.”

“Or should we rest a bit instead?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve suddenly lost all your energy, haven’t you?”

“It’s all thanks to the udon.”

“Hahahaha. In return, when we get to the inn, I’ll treat you to a story.”

“I don’t even want to hear the story anymore.”

“Then let’s have some Ebisu that isn’t beer.”

“Hmph. With how things look, there’s no way we’ll reach the inn.”

“Nah, it’s okay.”

“But it’s already getting dark.”

“Let me see,” said Kei, taking out his pocket watch.
“It’s five to four.”
“It’s dark because of the weather.”
“But it’s troublesome how our bearings keep shifting.”
“We’ve walked several miles since starting up this mountain.”

“With these blisters, I’d say we’ve walked ten miles.”

“Hahahaha.”
“That smoke we saw ahead earlier is now far behind us.”
“So that means we’ve come several miles closer to Kumamoto?”

“Which means we’ve moved that much farther from the mountain.”

“Now that you mention it, that’s true. Look—new smoke’s started appearing next to that plume over there. That’s probably the new crater. When you see how it’s billowing out like that, it really does seem like it’s right there… I wonder why we can’t get there. It must be right behind this mountain, but there’s no path, so we’re stuck.”

“Even if there were a path, it wouldn’t help.”

“Whether it’s clouds or smoke, it’s incredibly thick and coming right over our heads.”
“Intense stuff.”
“Hey, you.”

“Yeah.”

“How’s this? You’d never see such an incredible view except at a time like this.”
“Yeah—something pitch-black’s falling now.”
“Your head’s getting pelted.”
“Here—take my hat. Put it on like this.”
“Then your handkerchief.”
“Tie it over the top so it doesn’t fly off.—I’ll fasten it for you.—Better close the umbrella.”
“It’s useless against this wind anyway.”
“Now lean on the cane.”
“Once you’ve got the cane ready, you’ll manage to walk a bit.”

“I can walk a bit better now.—Seems like the rain and wind are getting stronger too.”

“That’s right. Earlier, it looked like it might clear up a bit though.”
“The rain and wind are manageable—but is your foot hurting?”

“It hurts.”
“When we started climbing, there were only about three blisters—now they’re all over.”

“In the evening, I’ll knead cigarette butts with rice grains and make a plaster for you.”

“If we reach the inn, it’ll sort itself out…”

“Is the walking itself what’s difficult?”

“Yeah.”

“This is a problem.—If we climb up high somewhere, we should see a path people use.”
“Hmm—you can see that tall grassy mountain over there, can’t you?”

“The one to the right?”

“Ah.”
“If we climb up there, we’ll surely get a full view of the crater.”
“Then we’ll find the path.”

“Even if we find it, it’ll be dark by the time we reach there.”

“Wait—let me check my watch.”
“Four-oh-eight.”
“Still daylight.”
“You stay here.”
“I’ll go reconnoiter.”

“I’ll wait, but if you lose your way back, that’ll spell real trouble.”
“We’d get separated completely.”

“No danger of dying whatever happens.”
“If need be, I’ll shout loud enough for you.”

“Yeah.”
“Call for me.”

Kei plunged ferociously into the churning mass of clouds and smoke.
Roku stood apprehensively all alone in the silver grass, watching the retreating figure of the friend he relied on.
After a while, Kei's figure disappeared into the grass.

The great mountain measured time in roughly five-minute intervals, roaring more violently than usual.
At each eruption, both rain and smoke shuddered simultaneously, their residual force sweeping sideways to batter against the despondent figure of Roku standing motionless.
Across endless grasses bowing completely into the smoky haze, rain went pattering onward.
Between grass and rain crawled an enormous cloud without restraint.
Roku kept trembling as he stared at the grassy peak ahead.
Droplets from the silver grass soaked clear through to his lower abdomen.

The lurid black smoke coiled into seven long spirals, and just as it suddenly thrust into the sky, the sole of Roku’s planted foot quaked as though from an earthquake. Afterward, the mountain rumbling subsided somewhat. Then, from below the ground,

A voice called out, "Heeey."

Roku cupped both hands behind his ears.

“Heeey”

He was definitely calling.
Strangely enough, the voice welled up oddly from beneath his feet.

“Heeey”

Roku involuntarily dashed out, using the voice as his guide.

When he squeezed out a shrill “Heeey” with such force that his lungs constricted, a deep voice responded from beneath the grass.

“Heeey,” Kei responded.
It had to have been Kei.

Roku recklessly pushed aside the chest-high silver grass and pressed forward steadily toward the direction of the voice.

“Heeey”

“Heeey.”
“Where are you?”

“Heeey.”
“Here!”

“Where are youuu?!”

“Here! Don’t come recklessly—it’s dangerous! You’ll fall!”

“Where did you fall?!”

“I fell here! Be careful!”

“I’ll be careful—but where did you fall?!”

“If you fall, those foot blisters will hurt!”

“I’m fine! Where did you fall?!”

“Here! Don’t go past that point! I’ll come to you, so wait right there!”

Kei's booming voice passed through the ground, gradually drawing closer.

“Hey, I fell.”

“Where did you fall?”

“Can’t you see?”

“I can’t see.”

“Then move forward a bit more.”

“Oh, what’s this?”

“In the grass—there’s something like this here, so it’s dangerous.”

“Why is there such a valley here?”

“It’s the path where lava flowed.”
“Look—it’s brown inside with not a single blade of grass growing.”

“I see—there’s something troublesome here. Can you climb up?”
“Can you climb up?”

“No way I can climb up!”
“It’s about two ken high.”

“This is bad. What should I do?”
“What should I do?”

“Can you see my head?”

“I can see a bit of a split chestnut burr.”

“You.”

“Yeah.”

“Lie prone on the silver grass, stick out just your face over the valley, and take a look.”

“Alright, I’ll stick out my face now, so you wait there.”

“Yeah, I’m waiting—here,” Kei said, tapping the cliff face with his umbrella.
Roku estimated his position, then squelched down onto the wet silver grass, lying flat on his stomach as he cautiously inched only his neck over the gully edge.

“Hey.”

“Hey.
How’s it going?
Are the blisters hurting?”

“Forget about the blisters—just hurry up and climb already!”

“Ha ha ha ha—I’m fine. Down here, the wind isn’t hitting me—it’s actually more comfortable, you know.”

“Comfortable or not, it’s already getting dark—you need to hurry up and climb!”

“You.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a handkerchief?”

“I do. What are you going to use it for?”

“When I fell, I scraped my toe and tore off the nail.”

“Tore off the nail? Does it hurt?”

“It hurts a little.”

“Can you walk?”

“Of course I can walk. If you’ve got a handkerchief, toss it down here.”

“Want me to tear it for you?”

“Nah, I’ll tear it—just roll it up and toss it down. If the wind catches it, that’d be trouble. Roll it tight before you drop it.”

“It’s soaked through, so it’s fine.”
“No need to worry about it flying away.”
“Ready? I’m throwing it! Here!”

“It’s gotten quite dark, hasn’t it? Is the smoke still coming out?”

“Yeah. The air’s filled with smoke.”

“It’s roaring awfully loud, don’t you think?”

“Seems fiercer than before.—Will the handkerchief tear?”

“Yeah, it tore. The bandage is ready now.”

“Are you okay? You’re not bleeding, are you?”

“It’s seeping into the *tabi* along with the rain.”

“That looks painful.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Even if it hurts… Pain’s proof I’m alive.”

“I’ve got a stomachache.”

“It’s because you’re lying on the wet grass.”
“That’s enough—stand up already.”

“If I stand up, I won’t be able to see your face.”

“This is troublesome. Why don’t you just jump down here?”

“What would you do if I jumped in?”

“Can’t you jump?”

“It’s not that I can’t jump in—but if I do, what’ll you do?”

“We’ll walk together.”

“And where exactly do you plan to go?”

“This hole’s just the path left by rocks that flowed from the crater to the foothills. If we walk through it, we’ll come out somewhere.”

“But…”

“You don’t like it?
“If you don’t like it, there’s no helping it.”

“It’s not that I dislike it—but I’d rather you could climb up here.
Can’t you try scrambling up somehow?”

“In that case, you’ll walk along the edge of this hole.”
“I’ll walk through the bottom.”
“That way we can talk from above and below—should work fine.”

“There’s no path on the edge.”

“Nothing but grass?”

“Yeah.”
“It’s all grass…”
“Yeah.”
“It’s growing up to about chest height.”

“Anyway, I can’t climb up.”

“If you can’t climb up, then there’s nothing we can do—Hey.—Hey.—I’m calling you, hey! Why are you staying silent?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“Can you talk?”

“I can.”

“Then why are you staying silent?”

“I was just thinking.”
“About what?”

“About how to get out of this hole.”

“Why did you even fall into such a place?”

“I was too focused on trying to reassure you quickly by staring at the grassy hill—ended up neglecting my footing and fell.”

“Then it’s practically my fault you fell.”
“What a mess—if only there were some way to get you up.”

“Well… I don’t particularly care.”
“Enough about that.”
“You—stand up now.”
“Lying on grass cooling your stomach like that’s no good.”

“I don’t care about my stomach.”

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“It does hurt.”

“So just stand up already.”
“Meanwhile, I’ll devise a way to get out of here.”

“When I think of something, I’ll call.”
“I’ll think too.”

“Alright.”

The conversation lapsed into silence for a while.
When Roku stood unsteadily in the grass and looked around, the black clouds that had collided with the grassy mountain ahead came crashing down halfway up the peak, surging toward them like a murky sea until they were just five or six feet from their heads.
The clock was already nearing five.
The mid-mountain area was growing dim at this hour.
The incessantly howling wind brought the black night from a distant land with each gust.
In the ever-approaching dusk, the storm raged in a frenzied whirl.
The smoke gushing from the crater in myriads of measures was uniformly swept into the swirling vortex, filling the storm’s entire world as it swelled in a murky black.

“Hey. Are you there?”

“I’m here. Have you come up with any ideas?”

“Nah. How’s the mountain holding up?”

“It’s only getting wilder by the minute.”

“What’s today’s date again?”

“Today’s September 2nd.”

“It might just be the 210th Day, you know.”

The conversation broke off again.

The wind, rain, and smoke of the 210th Day buried every blade of grass in sight, until even the swaying forms a hundred yards ahead could no longer be clearly seen.

“It’s already getting dark. Hey. Are you there?”

Whether the person in the valley had been swept away by the 210th Day’s winds or not, there was not a single response.
Mount Aso roared as if it were about to split apart.

Roku turned pale and once again lay prone on the grass like a stick.

“Heeey!”
“Aren’t you there?”
“Heeey!”
“It’s over here!”

In the dim valley floor, about fifty meters up, a vague white figure was moving. It seemed to be beckoning.

“Why’d you go over there?!”

“I’m climbing up from here!!”

“You think you can actually make it up?!”

“I can make it—get over here now!”

Roku forgot all about his stomachache and the blisters on his feet and bolted out like a fleeing rabbit.

“Hey.
Around here somewhere?”

“There.”
“Just stick your head out there and look.”

“Like this?... Ah! It’s remarkably shallow here.”
“If I push the umbrella out from above, you can grab it and pull yourself up!”

“The umbrella alone won’t work. I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

“Nah. It’s not unfortunate at all. What are you going to do?”

“Untie your heko obi sash, tie the end to the umbrella’s handle—your handle’s bent, right?”

“Of course it’s bent. It’s really bent!”

“Could you tie it to the bent part?”

“I’ll tie it right on! I’ll tie it right on for you!”

“Once you’ve tied it, please hang the end of that sash down from above.”

“I’ll hang it down! No problem. It’s safe, so just wait.—There we go, the long one’s hanging down from heaven now, right?”

“You’ve got to hold that umbrella tight. My body weighs 17 kan and 600 me—about 66 kilograms—you know.”

“No matter how many kanme you are, it’s safe. Go ahead and climb up.”

“Ready?”

“You bet.”

“Here I go—no, wait! That’s no good. Right—if it keeps sliding down…”

“This time it’ll hold.”
“I was just testing it out.”
“Come on up now.”
“It’s safe.”

“If you slip, we’ll both go down.”

“That’s why it’s safe.”
“Last time I wasn’t gripping the umbrella right.”

“You—dig your feet into the silver grass roots and brace yourself. Push too far forward and the cliff’ll give way—your foot’ll slip.”

“All right, it’s safe.”
“Come on—up you go.”

“Got your footing set?”
“This attempt still looks dicey to me.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

“You’re worried because you think I’m weak.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m a full-fledged person too.”

“Obviously.”

“If it’s obvious, then trust me without worry. Small as I am, I fully intend to pull one friend from the valley floor.”

“All right, I’ll climb up now.”
“There…!”

“There… Just a little more.”

Roku-san, his feet swollen all over with blisters and braced hard against the silver grass roots, bent his shrimp-like back and clung desperately to the umbrella’s handle, his bare skin exposed to the 210th Day’s rain.
From beneath the straw hat secured by a hand towel, a face flushed crimson from exertion was blasted by nearly the full force of Aso’s downward gales, while volcanic ash rain fell mercilessly upon clenched buckteeth.

The handle of the eight-ken bat umbrella covered in woolen crepe fortunately had a sturdy natural wood full of thick knots attached, so there was little fear of it breaking. At the bent end of that natural wood, the Narumi shibori heko obi stretched taut like a newly strung string on a Satsuma strong bow, parting the silver grass as its tip disappeared into the valley below. From where it had been hidden, a large chestnut-burr head abruptly emerged.

No sooner had both hands grabbed the cliff edge with a final shout than the upper half of the giant’s body emerged from the valley alongside the bat umbrella thrust diagonally into his backside.
At the same time, Roku-san fell backward with a heavy thud and collapsed at the base of the silver grass.

V

“Hey, it’s mealtime already. Aren’t you getting up?”

“Nope. I’m not getting up.”

“Has your stomachache healed?”

“Well, it’s mostly healed, I suppose—but given how things are, it might start hurting again anytime.”
“After all, it was the udon that did me in—this isn’t going to heal easily.”

“If you’ve got enough energy to talk that much, you must be fine.”
“How about it—shall we head out now?”

“Where to?”

“To Aso.”

“You still plan to go to Aso?”

“Of course—we set out intending to go to Aso, you see.”
“We can’t not go.”

“Is that how it is? But with these blisters, there’s unfortunately nothing to be done.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Hurt? It’s beyond just hurting—even lying here like this, they’re throbbing dully up to my head!”

“I put all that cigarette ash on them for you—hasn’t it had the slightest effect?”

“If cigarette ash worked, that’d be a real problem.”

“But you looked so grateful when I applied it.”

“Because I thought it would heal them.”

“By the way, you got angry yesterday, didn’t you?”

“When?”

“When you were naked and pulling the bat umbrella.”

“But it’s because you look down on people too much.”

“Hahaha! But thanks to you, we managed to get out of the valley.”
“If you hadn’t gotten angry, I might’ve ended up dead at the bottom of the valley by now.”

“Not only did you yank it without caring about popping my blisters, but then I fell naked into the silver grass.”
“And you didn’t say a word of thanks or anything.”
“You’re a heartless man.”

“In return, didn’t I carry you all the way to this inn?”

“As if I’d let you carry me here! I walked here on my own.”

“Then do you know where here is?”

“You’ve really made a fool of people. You ask where here is? It’s Aso Town. Not only were we forced to eat udon three shops over, but it’s the carriage inn next door, you know. Running around the mountains for half a day only to end up right back where we started when we finally come down—what utter fools we are! From now on, I’m not putting any more faith in your heavenly favor.”

“It went wrong because it was the 210th Day.”

“And then you went spouting all that theatrical nonsense in the mountains.”

“Hahaha! But back then, you were so impressed—you kept going ‘uh-huh, uh-huh,’ didn’t you?”

“I was impressed back then, but seeing how things turned out, it seems utterly foolish. Are you even serious?”

“Hmph.”

“Are you joking?”

“Which do you think it is?”

“I don’t care either way, but if you’re serious, I’d like to offer some advice.”

“Back then, who was it that begged to hear my life story and ended up crying?”

“I didn’t cry, you know.”
“My foot hurt so much I got anxious, you know.”

“But you’ve been full of energy since this morning—you seemed like a completely different person yesterday.”

“Despite the foot pain, huh? Hahaha.”
“The truth is, you were being so absurd that I decided to get a little angry.”

“At me?”

“Well, there’s no one else to direct it at, so it can’t be helped.”

“What a nuisance.”
“By the way, if you want porridge, I can have some prepared for you.”

“Never mind the porridge.”
“First off, I want you to find out what time the carriage leaves.”

“Where do you plan to go by carriage?”

“Where else? Kumamoto.”

“Are you going back?”

“What else am I supposed to do if I don’t go back? If I have to keep living in a place like this with carriage horses, I won’t last long. Last night, I was really done in by those horses kicking against the panels by my bedside all night long.”

“Oh, I had no idea. Did it really make that much noise?”

“If that noise hadn’t reached my ears, you’d be the very picture of the hardy faction. You’re a man who sleeps so soundly it’s almost infuriating. You made such a firm promise to me—to tell your life story, to share that doctor’s diary—but when it comes down to it, you just collapse into sleep without a shred of pretense. —and then you snored tremendously—”

“Oh, I see. My apologies for that. I was just too exhausted.”

“By the way, how’s the weather?”

“It’s fine weather.”

“What pointless weather. If only it had cleared yesterday—”
“And did you wash your face then?”

“I washed my face ages ago.”
“Aren’t you getting up anyway?”

“Get up? I can’t just rise like this.”
“I’m sleeping naked.”

“I got up naked.”

“That’s reckless of you.”
“Even if you were raised in a tofu shop, this is too much.”

When he went out back to take a cold bath, the landlady brought him a kimono.
It was dry.
“It’s just turned mouse-gray.”

“If it’s dry, I’ll have it sent over,” said Roku, vigorously rapping his hands.
A response came from the direction of the kitchen.
It was a man’s voice.

“Is that the coachman?”

“It might be the innkeeper.”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll divine the answer while lying here.”

“What’s the point of divining?”
“I’ll divine it and make a bet with you.”

“I won’t do such a thing.”

“Well, coachman or innkeeper?”

“Hmm, which one is it?”

“Come on—decide quickly.
Look—they’re coming.”

“Then I’ll take the innkeeper.”

“Then you take the innkeeper, and I’ll take the coachman. The loser has to obey orders all day today.”
“I won’t agree to that.”
“Good morning… Did you call?”
“Yeah, I called. Bring me my kimono. It should be dry by now, right?”
“Mm-hmm.”

“And since my stomach’s acting up, I’d like you to make some porridge.”

“Right away.”
“Both of you…”

“I’m fine with just regular food.”

“Then just for the one person.”

“Right.
And what times do the coaches depart then?”

“The coaches to Kumamoto depart at eight and one o’clock, they do.”

“In that case, we’ll leave at eight o’clock then.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re really going back to Kumamoto? We’ve come all this way—it’d be pointless not to climb Aso now.”

“That won’t do!”

“But we came all this way…”

“It’s true we came all this way at your insistence, but…”
“With this bean—no matter how you slice it—there’s no path but to waste Heaven’s aid.”

“If my feet hurt, there’s no helping it—but what a waste! After finally resolving to come all this way—look at this fine weather!”

“So you should come back with me too. Since we’ve come all this way together, it’s strange not to return together.”

“But since we came to climb Mount Aso, we can’t just go back without climbing.”

“Who would you be failing?”

“It doesn’t sit right with my principles.”

“Principles again? Restrictive principles, huh. Then we’ll just go back to Kumamoto once and start fresh.”

“I won’t be satisfied if we go back and start over.”

“You just can’t settle with anything, can you? You’re too stubborn by nature.”

“Not really.”

“But you’ve never once listened to what I’ve said!”

“There have been plenty of times.”

“Not even once!”

“You listened yesterday too, didn’t you? After coming up from the valley, I insisted on climbing, but you kept saying we should go down—that’s why we turned back all the way here, isn’t it?”

“Yesterday was an exception.”
“It’s the 210th Day, you know.”
“Instead of that, I ate udon so many times, didn’t I?”

“Ha ha ha ha, anyway…”

“Oh, never mind.”
“Let’s save the debate for later—they’re waiting here at the inn…”

“I see.”
“Hey, you.”
“Yeah.”

“It’s not you.”
“You there—Mr. Master of the Oi Inn.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Are you the coachman?”

“No.”
“Then are you the master of the inn?”
“No.”
“Then what are you?”
“A hired hand…”

“Well, well.” “In that case, it’s no use.” “You know, this man isn’t a coachman or the inn master.” “Yeah, so what?” “What do you mean?—Ah, never mind then.” “Fine, you can go off wherever you like.” “Hey.” “So will you both be coming by carriage?” “That’s the point we’re disputing right now.” “Heh heh heh. The eight o’clock carriage will be ready soon.”

“Right, let’s settle this quarrel before eight o’clock.”
“For now, please withdraw.”

“Heh heh heh. Take your leisurely time.”

“Hey, they’ve gone.”

“Naturally they’d go.”
“You kept badgering us to hurry up.”

“Ha ha ha! He claims he’s neither coachman nor master.”
“This complicates things.”

“What’s complicated?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?”
“Here’s what I reckoned.”
“That man was supposed to say he’s the coachman.”
“Then I’d win the wager, and you’d have to follow my every command.”

“No way! I never agreed to any such promise.”
“What? You think I’m making this up?”
“Do whatever you like.”

“It’s ambiguous.”
“Therefore, you have to return to Kumamoto with me—that’s the reasoning.”

“Does that really follow?”

“I thought it would happen and was happy, but since he says he’s a hired hand, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Well, if the man himself insists he’s a hired hand, there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“If he’d said he was the coachman, I was going to give him thirty sen—what a fool he is.”

“There’s no need to give thirty sen when we haven’t received any help from him.”

“But you gave twenty sen to that bob-haired maid the night before last, didn’t you?”

“You know a lot, don’t you? —I liked that maid for her simplicity.”
“She has more right to be respected than the nobility or the wealthy class.”

“There they go again. There’s never a day when the nobility and the wealthy don’t show up.”
“There’s never a day when the nobility and the wealthy don’t show up, is there?”

“Oh, they’re so vile and shameless that denouncing them a hundred times a day still wouldn’t be enough.”

“You mean you?”

“No, I mean the nobility and the wealthy—they…”

“Is that so?”

“Take today—they’ll try some underhanded scheme.”
“It’ll fail.”

“Of course it’ll fail.”

“Then tomorrow they’ll try the same trick.”
“Still fails.”
“Come the day after, they’ll try it yet again.”
“They’ll keep at it daily till it works.”
“Three hundred sixty-five days, seven hundred fifty days—they’ll pile up the same rotten deeds.”
“They actually believe if they stack enough filth, it’ll magically turn respectable!”
“Utterly unconscionable!”

“You’re absolutely outrageous!”

“If they were to succeed in such things, society would be thrown into chaos.
Wouldn’t it?”

“Society is a mess.”

“The primary purpose of our existence in this world is to slay these monsters of civilization and bring some measure of comfort to the common people, who have neither money nor power.”

“There is [a purpose].”
“Yeah. There is [one].”

“If you think there’s one [a purpose], then do it with me.”

“Yeah. I’ll do it.”

“You’ll definitely do it.”
“Got it?”

“I’ll definitely do it.”

“So, let’s climb Aso anyway.”

“Yeah, let’s climb Aso anyway.”

Above the two men’s heads, Aso on the 211th Day roared as it spewed a century’s worth of grievances into the boundless azure sky.