Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

It was the third day since the bride’s belongings had been sent back from the neighboring house. Shōsaku had left the house he had gone to as an adopted son and trudged back home. It had only been about three months and ten days since the wedding. Perhaps feeling vaguely guilty, Shōsaku passed through the gate of his own home with a somber expression.

The rest of the family had apparently gone to clear underbrush in the mountain forest, leaving his mother alone to house-sit their large home. On the sunny back veranda, she worked diligently at her unraveling without dozing off. Shōsaku did not enter through the front entrance but instead went around through the inner garden straight to the veranda where his mother was.

“Mother, I’ve been driven out.”

Shōsaku said with a laugh and stepped up onto the veranda. His mother set down what she was holding and, peering at Shōsaku’s face through her glasses, “Well, I never...” The surprised mother seemed immediately unable to find her next words. Shōsaku, on the contrary, had actually perked up upon seeing his mother. Judging by this, it seemed Shōsaku had endured no small amount of anguish before coming. “Mother, where are my clothes? My clothes—” Shōsaku remained standing and paced restlessly around the tatami room.

“I’ll look for them now, but didn’t you bring any change of clothes?” “Right? A man can’t go around carrying a wrapped bundle or something like that.” “What a mess.”

Shōsaku threw on the clothes he had been given, wound the sash tightly around his waist, and collapsed right there. Mother hung Shōsaku’s shed garments on the clothes rack. “Mother, put some tea on or something. What a blunder—I should’ve brought sweets.” “You’re in no position to be asking for tea,” Mother retorted while sitting down near Shōsaku.

As she said this, Mother sat down near Shōsaku.

“You’d better explain yourself properly—how did you get here?” “What’s with that grinning? This isn’t some joke!”

Scolded by his mother, Shōsaku could no longer remain lying down. "I'm sorry for worrying you, Mother—but Mother, there's truly nothing to be done about it." "That woman kept hurling sarcastic remarks at me, making a fuss over every trifle to lecture me." "Lately even she’s been giving me these contemptuous looks." "I simply couldn’t bear it any longer." "What a predicament—who’s truly to blame here?" "Does Tsune voice complaints too?"

“It’s the mother-in-law. She’s the one saying all those awful things.” “Tsune never says anything outright, but lately she’s been acting downright disrespectful.” “Mother, I can’t take this anymore—no matter what happens.”

“Even I—your mother—have been secretly worried.” “What kind of terrible things does she say?” “And the father-in-law doesn’t show any disapproval?” “What kind of things? It’s just ridiculous stuff.” “The father-in-law isn’t particularly being difficult.” “Hmm… So the real problem here is Ms. Otoyo, then? Hmm.”

“Ah.” “You’re truly a hopeless case. “The truth is, you’re the one who’s in the wrong.” “Then it’s completely out in the open now.” That was all Mother had been worried about. “I knew it was bound to come out eventually, but I’d hoped if it came to light after things had settled a bit, we might’ve managed to smooth it over. Now that it’s out like this, no wonder they’re fed up over there.”

After saying this, Mother closed her mouth for a while and sighed deeply while lost in thought. Gazing intently at Shōsaku, who sat there with an air of nonchalance and a smile on his face, her aged eyes overflowed with pained concern. Before long, as if overwhelmed by her emotions once more, “You sit there looking so carefree—do you have any idea how much this old woman worries?”

When told this, Shōsaku suddenly straightened his posture. And then, “Mother, I’m not being that carefree.” “I’m sorry to make an elder like you worry like this, but honestly Mother, even if they let me stay in that house, I don’t want to anymore.” “No matter what they say—if I just set my mind to staying there and was a bit careful—it wouldn’t be impossible. But somehow... I don’t know why... I just grew sick of it myself.” “So please don’t worry about me, Mother.”

This was the truth of Shōsaku’s present heart, but he believed that by saying this, he could somewhat alleviate Mother’s worries. Yet upon hearing this, Mother’s expression grew increasingly stern. Her aged eyes were already brimming with tears. She had been sidling closer to Shōsaku, “Shōsaku, is that really true?” “Then you’re being far too selfish.” “I only thought that if that matter became known to the Fukadas, you’d find it unbearable to stay—but according to what you’re saying now, it’s you who grew tired of them?” “Then tell me—what part do you dislike about Fukada? What exactly about the Fukada house doesn’t suit you?” “After all, you and Tsune-san have known each other from the start—there’s no reason for her to dislike you.” “To grow tired of it all at your age for no reason—that’s pure selfishness.” “At least try to think a little!”

Shōsaku sat silent, his head bowed. The truth was he had grown utterly weary without reason—no single cause he could clearly name. There was nothing specific about the Fukada house he disliked. It was simply that Otoyo had soaked so deeply into his mind that Fukada held no appeal for him now. And with Otoyo’s entanglement with the neighbor finally settled—with her freed from all other ties—everything seemed absurd to him, as if he’d suddenly realized how pointless it was to stay at Fukada. Yet he couldn’t lay this bare to Mother, so when she pressed him, he fumbled for words. The tongue-tied Shōsaku had no ready answer and fell mute once more. Mother knew full well his restlessness sprang from Otoyo but skirted the issue, circling it obliquely instead. She clung to the belief that if only he’d reconcile with Tsune, Otoyo would fade naturally from his thoughts—and so she meant to send him back to Fukada at any cost.

“As you well know, Fukada has far better standing than our house—it’s an old-established family, and Ms. Tsune isn’t she an above-average girl by any measure? It’s true there’s talk that the mother-in-law is a bit difficult, but it was her—that very same ‘difficult’ person—who took such a liking to you and pleaded earnestly for this marriage arrangement. There’s no reason you couldn’t stay put! Everyone keeps saying how fortunate you are—what could possibly be lacking to make you resent it? There’s a limit to selfishness—you don’t even know your parent’s hardships… If you just stay in Fukada, you’ll be happy. Even I—your mother—could finally be at ease. What on earth are you thinking—how long do you intend to keep burdening this elder?”

Mother, brooding deeply, clutched the bridge of her nose. Since childhood, Shōsaku had caused his mother considerable hardship. When Shōsaku had long suffered from eye trouble, Mother worried so much that she even made vows to Fudō Myōō, abstaining from salt-laden foods. Especially since his father’s passing—leaving his mother alone—Shōsaku had grown overly deferential toward her. Moreover, Shōsaku was by nature not one to stubbornly assert himself. When pressed by his mother like this, he was the type to wonder whether he was perhaps being unreasonable.

“I’m sorry for making you endure nothing but hardship, Mother.” “It’s true this must be my selfishness, but Mother—whether I’m happy or unhappy has nothing to do with being in Fukada or not.” “Even if I stay there, if I can’t find any joy in it, I’ll still be unhappy in the end.” “And even if I leave that place—if I can devise some way to live contentedly elsewhere—wouldn’t my happiness remain unchanged?” “Still, if staying in that house alone would bring me happiness and let you rest easy, Mother—if that’s what you believe—I might reconsider... But given how matters stand now, there is no helping it.”

Mother glared at Shōsaku, “What sort of ‘way to live happily’ could you possibly have?” “You mustn’t misunderstand this!” “If you just stay in Fukada, there’d be no worries at all.” “Isn’t this aversion just a matter of how you choose to see things?” “So how exactly did you leave today?” “It’s not like I said anything complicated.” “I just told them I had something to fetch from home—that’s all I said when I came here.”

“I see—in that case, there’s no real issue, ain’t there? I thought you’d come here ’cause they’d driven you out again after some quarrel. Then there’s no issue—go back tonight. If you just change your attitude, there’ll surely be no issue on their side. Shōsaku, you know full well that if you come back now, it’ll cause trouble all around, don’t you?”

Shōsaku remained silent again. Mother too kept her mouth shut for some time. At length Shōsaku began hesitantly,

“If you insist that much, Mother, I’ll try going back tomorrow… but somehow my feelings have changed—I’ve been in such an awful state of mind that if that’s what made things awkward over there… even if I fix my own attitude, unless they fix theirs on their side, there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“That’s not the case at all.” “You were the one they pleaded for from the start—if you’d just commit yourself to it, there’d be no trouble at all.”

The discussion had been quite lengthy but ultimately ended in an uncertain conclusion.

Though the narrative must now inevitably shift to Otoyo’s story, the sunlight had already begun tracing the edge of the veranda when the front sliding door rattled violently, announcing the two children’s sudden dash into the inner rooms.

“Grandma, I’m home!” “Grandma, I’m home!” With faces and hands smeared with ink, Jūzō, eight, and Matsusaburō, seven, bowed in overlapping motions. The two of them tossed their hats aside as they stood up, “Grandma, give me one sen!” “Grandma, me too!” and pressed their shoulders against her while pleading.

“Alright, Uncle’s buying sweets today. You two go get them—I’ll give you half.” The two children dashed out to the front, gripping the coins. Shōsaku got up to make some tea.

Two

The next morning, Shōsaku returned to Fukada nonetheless. He went back, but it was hopeless. About five days later, Shōsaku came home once more. This time resolved to make it final, he left the Fukada house at dawn before anyone was about.

Despite having gone through the trouble of persuading him to return once, Mother had harbored doubts from the start; seeing him come back again, she resigned herself and refrained from harsh scolding. Sasuke merely,

“What a hopeless fellow.” After uttering just this one remark, he continued as always—weaving ropes at night and clearing mountain underbrush or making compost by day without so much as a sideways glance.

The sister-in-law, who had taken great pride in marrying off her brother-in-law to the Fukada family, could only bitterly resent Shōsaku’s recklessness. “Shōsaku, how could you ever not be in that house?”

She must have repeated it countless times.

It was the second lunar month, and in the countryside, it was the least busy time of the year. For those with a taste for scandal, Shōsaku’s annulment story was being vigorously discussed everywhere. Rumors that so-and-so had settled into an excellent position and found great happiness never lasted long. But when it came to an annulment deemed pitiable, many people gossiped about it with such relish, as though taking visceral delight in the matter. Because they had been too enviably content, those who resented their smugness chattered away as if they’d stumbled upon a sensational tale. It was the night when blind minstrel women were lodged at the village liquor store. After the minstrels finished their songs, the conversation became wholly consumed by talk of Shōsaku.

“Shōsaku’s downright rotten.” “Becoming someone’s son-in-law without cutting ties with that woman—it’s pure immorality, a scandal through and through.” “You try being the ones taking in a groom—could you stomach being treated this way?”

Those who said this were the ones who favored the Fukadas. “That’s not how it is. When Shōsaku resolved to become their son-in-law, he must have already given up on Otoyo.” “First of all, when Shōsaku became their son-in-law, Otoyo was still at Seiroku’s place, wasn’t she?” “Since the Fukadas had earnestly sought him as a son-in-law, if they hadn’t been swayed by those past rumors and had treated him properly, Shōsaku would never have left their household.” “That’s why it’s Fukada’s fault.” “There’s nothing immoral about Shōsaku at all.”

This is what the half-hearted supporters were saying. “There’s no right or wrong—it’s simply that there was no karmic bond.” “Shōsaku’s standing was good, and he didn’t dislike Otsune-san—so it wasn’t like he had no reason to stay. Since the Fukadas had pleaded so earnestly for him in the first place, they must’ve wanted to keep him. But if they couldn’t manage to hold onto him, then there was just no karmic bond.” The one spouting this was the liquor store mistress they called “Granny.” “It’s all Shō-sa-ku’s fault—truly hateful, that Shō-sa-ku.” “Because Shō-sa-ku’s such a splendid man, Otoyo-san simply can’t bring herself to give him up—if Otoyo-san doesn’t let go, Shō-sa-ku can’t stay at Fukada.” “Fukada’s mother-in-law deeply resents Otoyo-san.” “Otsune-san too, you know—they say she actually wanted to keep Shō-sa-ku. That’s why she took to her bed for three days after he left.” “I truly feel sorry for Otsune-san—Shō-sa-ku’s truly hateful.”

This was a voice from the women’s side. “What nonsense! Praising one moment and disparaging the next—how pitiful for them, utterly beyond their grasp.” “Shōsaku-san’s truly despicable—it’s all his fault!”

“Don’t be so harsh.” “Ohama-san’s got her pitiable side too, y’know? Isn’t it said that those with the same ailment pity each other? Ha ha ha ha ha!” “I really wanna beat the crap out of that damn bastard.” “Who?” “That bastard.” “You can’t get through to that bastard.” “He’s gotten so ridiculously vulgar—oh, stop it, stop it!” Because Ohama was present, the malicious talk ended at this level. If even Ohama hadn’t been there, the malicious talk would never have ended at this level. If they spoke ill of Shōsaku, Ohama would resent them; since no one wanted to be thought poorly of by her, the talk gradually died down. Masadaka’s sway was the final blow.

“I’m a son-in-law myself, and like the old saying goes—being a son-in-law’s a wretched thing.” “Besides, Mr. Shōsaku here has Ms. Otoyo—not that I’d want Seikō to hear this—but what’s a hundred bales of rice? Even if Fukada had fields yielding a hundred bales, what does that matter?” “They couldn’t just turn a son-in-law into their petty cash fund—and even if they tied a hundred bales to Ms. Otsune, she could never balance against Ms. Otoyo—a woman who’s all heart.” “If it’s ten thousand yen you want or Ms. Otoyo—well, I wouldn’t hesitate for a second…”

“Wanting Ms. Otoyo, or telling the old lady to make it happen—yah-hah-hah!”

And so the discussion came to an end.

Ohama returned and recounted each detail to Shōsaku. Given these circumstances, Shōsaku withdrew to the inner rooms and would not go outside except at night. It felt uncomfortable with the neighbors too. Though Ohama alone sympathized more earnestly than ever before, since the other party was of higher social standing—despite having invested no small expense in both preparations and the wedding—he could not stay until April and emerged. As this outcome stemmed from his own doing like self-inflicted rust, he felt all the more ashamed before his brother and sister-in-law. Not only he himself but even his mother felt constrained. Since Shōsaku was ordinarily such a good-natured person, his brother and sister-in-law did not treat him too harshly, yet Shōsaku himself shrank back timidly. Even Nossori-bō could no longer move sluggishly. Shōsaku finally began learning life’s hardships.

Even on the Fukada side, their daughter—unexpectedly gripped by lingering attachment—had led to discussions about sending relatives to retrieve him once more, but the mother-in-law flatly declared it untenable, and thus the matter was conclusively settled as divorce.

Kazusa welcomed spring early. Plum blossoms stood in full splendor both where eyes could reach and where they could not. Rapeseed flowers had begun to bloom while wheat fields deepened their verdure—day after day of unbroken fair weather brought tranquil hours. Villages divided by woodlands and fields partitioned by hues lay wrapped in a faint all-pervading mist, everything unified into spring’s singular essence.

The distant sound of Kujūri’s waves transmitted an unceasing drone from night through day—gentle reverberations seeping through haze-shrouded depths. Kujūri’s waves had always roared; what stirred people now was spring’s particular resonance. Those raised in villages dotting Kujūri’s expanse recognized this wave-song instantly as spring’s true voice. Though “autumn’s cry” existed as poetic lexicon across Japan’s northlands—here beneath these skies lingered no autumnal lamentation—only spring’s persistent murmur remained.

What ceaselessly soothed—gently, ever so gently—the hearts of people was this springtime sound of Kujūri. For the people of Kazusa and Shimōsa, who had been soothed by this springtime sound since time immemorial, there remained almost no trace of somberness. Those who had never heard autumn’s voice could not possess a somber disposition. The essence of the people of Kazusa and Shimōsa—who knew nothing of autumn’s voice but only spring’s sounds—was explained by the two characters for “gentle and kind.” Shōsaku was that gentle and kind youth. In the end, it seemed that hating Shōsaku could only be the fault of those who hated. Shōsaku was, after all, a person of spring. Even in a state of shame and unease, there lingered an unhurried composure about him. Even when Shōsaku wept, it carried the muted gloom of spring rain—never winter’s piercing shower.

When Shōsaku left the Fukada household after being told such unpleasant things, he had strutted home with an air of defiance—yet upon arriving, his family reproached him with nothing but “You are at fault,” while society, to his surprise, sneered at him and spread rumors that he had been driven out because he was the problem. Before he knew it, even he himself felt as though he’d committed some inexplicable blunder. A cowardly sense of shame welled up within him, making the thought of facing society unbearably loathsome. Though there was neither disappointment nor melancholy in Shōsaku’s heart, those around him recklessly assumed their presence, and thus he found himself somehow estranged from society. And so, unwittingly like a social outcast, he remained without leaving the back room for seven or eight days. Even though the family members did not fully understand Shōsaku’s heart, they refrained from urging him to work now and left him to do as he pleased.

During this time, Ohama—bearing hardship in her small heart—traveled back and forth to Otoyo’s place and relayed messages between them. Shōsaku read two lengthy letters through which Otoyo’s earnest yet lucid words resonated with his very soul. Like withered flowers reviving through absorbed water, Shōsaku felt fresh vitality coursing through his veins—a sensation that his life had regained solid purpose. "There’s neither disgrace nor folly here," he muttered. "No matter what those wretches say... Our happiness is ours to shape—ours alone to shape. It concerns no one else."

While muttering these words to himself, Shōsaku, overwhelmed by emotion, stood up and began pacing restlessly around the tatami room. Shōsaku now shed all lingering turmoil within him, and his heart settled properly. Once his heart settled, vigor naturally stirred within him.

The next morning, Shōsaku woke up early without being roused.

“Mother—the work clothes?” he shouted.

“Hmm, Shōsaku—you’re up?”

“Ah, Mother—I’m going to work now.” “Well then… do as you please,” she said. “When you kept holing up with that sullen face… it felt like my lifespan was shriveling away.” The elder brother in work clothes came stomping up to the sliding mirror door in the middle partition.

“Hmm—you’re up, Shōsaku? Enough with this mole act already. Today we’re dredging the seed pond—lend a hand. Don’t fret—act like a man, will you?”

Before his elder brother’s words had even finished, Shōsaku leapt barefoot into the garden.

When the equinox came, they soaked the rice seeds in the seed pond. Before soaking the seeds, they had to drain the water from the seed pond and clean it thoroughly. This was nearly a custom of this land, having become one of its annual events. When the second month arrived, they selected an auspicious day to dredge the seed pond. That night, it was customary to prepare something like tea rice and buy a sho of sake. Today, with Ohama, Manzō, Elder Brother, and Shōsaku all working together—a rare gathering—the entire household labored cheerfully.

This evening, the elder brother drank more sake than usual.

“Shōsaku—have a drink tonight,” said Sasuke, his voice rough yet warm. “Don’t think I don’t sympathize with you—hah! No matter what happens, you can’t let your spirit flag. Human affairs all come down to spirit in the end.” “Brother,” Shōsaku replied, his eyes brightening, “with this… even I feel that spirit now.” “Ahahahaha! That’s it then!” Sasuke’s laughter boomed through the room as he thrust forward a fresh cup. “Here—drink up proper!”

Shōsaku’s usually calm face today brimmed with vitality. After exchanging two or three cups with his elder brother, he wore a smile free of shadows. His brother had been studying Shōsaku’s face when abruptly—

“Shōsaku, you should just decide to be with Otoyo.” Shōsaku, hearing these unexpected words from his elder brother, found himself momentarily at a loss for a response. His elder brother continued, “Now that I’ve said this, I’m prepared to go to some trouble—society’s all noise… Who gives a damn about that?” “Mother and Okitsu are dead set against it too, going on about how it’ll look bad to the neighbors or how ashamed they’d feel toward the Fukadas—but I say that’s just being too damn cautious about appearances.” “Look, even if you went as an adopted son to some place wealthier than the Fukadas from now on, that alone couldn’t guarantee your happiness.” “Enough, enough! Quit this foolish idea of going as a son-in-law.” “Hama-kō, bring another bottle now.”

Ohama laughed as she returned from fetching the sake bottle and gently pinched Shōsaku’s shoulder. “Just think carefully—Ms. Otoyo isn’t some woman you can trade for a bit of wealth.” “That’s right—of course this depends on hearing Ms. Otoyo’s own thoughts first.” “We’ll stop here for tonight.” “Think it through properly.”

Contrary to his appearance, his elder brother was an understanding man. The elder brother deeply pitied Shōsaku, still young in years, for his current circumstances of having failed in society’s eyes. While largely inferring Shōsaku’s state of mind, he had preemptively bolstered his younger brother’s spirits. Shōsaku, deep within his heart, gratefully acknowledged his elder brother’s kindness. Shōsaku had never before thought of him as such an understanding person with such resolute decisiveness. Shōsaku was so happy he could barely contain himself. No matter what anyone might say, he had steeled his resolve in his heart—so when his elder brother said exactly what he himself had been thinking, it was only natural he felt happy. Shōsaku was exerting all his strength to maintain a composed facade, yet even so, Ohama had given him a peculiar smile. Shōsaku had a promise—arranged through yesterday’s letter—to go behind Otoyo’s house by nine o’clock tonight.

III

People have spoken of women’s willpower since ancient times, and it seems such things cannot be dismissed as entirely baseless. After Otoyo had exhaustively contemplated her and Shōsaku’s shared circumstances and resigned herself to their inevitability—after she had released him to become the Fukadas’ adopted son—when the moment of parting finally arrived, she let tears fall upon his hands, “Now that we’ve resigned ourselves to parting this way, cast me from your thoughts and live harmoniously with Otsune-san through all your days.” “After I leave Kiyoroku’s household, I shall inform you what course I take when the time comes.” “Ah, no—there’s no need to speak of that now that we’ve parted.”

Though they parted with noble words, those were not the true feelings of mere mortals. Compelled by unavoidable circumstances, they were nothing more than forced words spoken superficially. Otoyo became single, and Shōsaku gained a wife. Even if one declares resignation in words, the heart does not obey them. It is only natural that it refuses. If it were a fleeting affair, one might remain oblivious—but a bond forged from the depths of the heart cannot be abandoned through reason alone. If one could relinquish it so easily, it would not be love.

Otoyo was a strong-willed person. With iron resolve, she suppressed her feelings. No matter how much she suppressed them, she was merely holding them back—her feelings never vanished. Rather, by suppressing them, her emotions only deepened further. The affection that dwelled so profoundly on Shōsaku might grow stronger, but it never diminished. Having parted through discussion and consented to let him take a wife, yet still pining for that man defied all reason. No matter how illogical it might be, that things did not go as one wished was simply human nature. Otoyo herself thrashed in her heart—I won’t think of him anymore, I won’t—but no matter how she struggled, it proved futile.

I just—there’s no helping it. What am I supposed to do? Really, there’s no helping it at all.

If only there had been no one around, she would have said those words and sighed—a ritual repeated night after night and day after day. Yet to outside eyes, Otoyo chatted energetically with people both inside and outside the household. When people laughed, she laughed along with them. Almost no sign of the anxieties weighing on her heart was visible in her demeanor. When visiting neighbors, even if Shōsaku’s name happened to come up in conversation now and then, Otoyo did not so much as bat an eye. On the contrary, one might even have heard whispered remarks like “Otoyo’s so cold-hearted, isn’t she?” Thus, within two months of Otoyo returning home, the rumors about her and Shōsaku faded away without anyone quite noticing when they disappeared.

While harboring a sense of irresolvable anguish in her heart—and disciplining herself all the more rigorously for it—Otoyo was remarkable, yet to those observing her, this was not entirely imperceptible.

Her once-flaming red complexion had finally begun to fade. The pale areas lost their luster and took on a faint bluish cast. Her taut face grew even tighter, her eyes clouded without clear cause. One who cannot recognize this as a heart weighed by anguish has no right to speak of love.

Not only that, but Otoyo was an amiable person who laughed readily with anyone she spoke to. She laughed often, but those were not true smiles. Only when Ohama came would she show a truly happy-looking smile. It was clear why without needing to ask. Therefore, when Ohama left, there were times when she would shed tears.

If that were the case, one might expect her to detain Ohama and speak only of Shōsaku—but this was not so at all. She rather avoided discussing Shōsaku. Whenever the conversation turned even slightly personal, she would immediately say “That’s enough” and cut it short. She never directly voiced her own feelings. Nor did she attempt to learn Shōsaku’s state of mind. And yet regarding Shōsaku’s affairs, she grew hypersensitive to even the slightest details beyond imagination. Should she hear rumors—that the Fukada household was wealthy; that Shōsaku had won their favor; that he worked vigorously for them; that he seldom returned home—no matter how often she encountered such gossip, she would invariably grow unable to remain in company and excuse herself to sleep. Being Otoyo, of course she did nothing to draw attention. Thus one could infer that through such exertions of willpower, her anguish only deepened further. True to her strong-willed nature, she strained excessively to prevent society from claiming Shōsaku had left the Fukadas due to her speaking of matters. Therefore, though the sisters shared extraordinary intimacy with Ohama, they had never once exchanged mutual feelings of longing after parting.

Though Otoyo appeared remarkably composed on the surface, not a single minute passed without anguish over Shōsaku ceasing within her heart. How could such a profoundly deep and powerful psychic force of emotion not reach Shōsaku? Shōsaku was not a man to act swiftly in anything. He took time whether expressing his will in words or putting it into action. Even if there was something he thought, he was not the sort to immediately tell others. Therefore, even though he had thought a great deal about Otoyo, he had not spoken of it even to Ohama. In contrast to simpler times past, he now had a wife, while the woman he once loved remained unmarried and—as he somehow felt—seemed to be watching his every move. For young Shōsaku, this position proved unbearably complicated. His senses had not dulled, but they were in a state of disarray. Shōsaku felt as though his body were suspended in mid-air. At such times, he would invariably sense another strong force. That Otoyo’s psychic force had come to move Shōsaku through such extremely minute pathways was logically consistent.

“Whenever I visit Miss Otoyo, she lights up—every time without fail. If there’s no one around, she hugs me, and when I’m about to go, sometimes she even tears up.”

Just from hearing these words from Ohama, Shōsaku felt agitation surging through every nerve in his body. By now, Shōsaku was no longer the Fukadas’ son-in-law; true to form, he did not abruptly manifest this in his actions, yet he had slipped onto a slippery slope where he could no longer restrain his own momentum.

If things were going to turn out like this, Otoyo should have left Kiyoroku’s house sooner with the aim of being with Shōsaku. If that had happened, Shōsaku would not have needed to become someone’s adopted son, and the innocent girl Otsune could have been spared her tears.

It is today’s society that prevents something so obvious from being realized. Society does surprisingly foolish things. While society itself suffers utterly under these constraints, it still continues to impose them on others.

4

At the Tsuchiya household, they had been greatly relieved when the rumors about Otoyo and Shōsaku had faded away without notice—but now that Shōsaku had been divorced by the Fukadas, and as it was being rumored that this too stemmed from his relationship with Otoyo, the talk of the two had once again become the gossip of nearby villages, leaving everyone in the household at a loss, their faces drawn in distress. Otoyo’s father was a man known for his strictness, so these days he wore a face as if he’d bitten into something bitter from morning onward. To Otoyo’s mother, he roared that from now on, they must not let that Hama no Ama come near.

Otoyo pretended not to see or hear any of these matters, maintaining an unaffected front, but the turmoil within her was anything but ordinary. The night she first learned Shōsaku had finally left the Fukada household, she barely slept at all. The prudent Otoyo had already reached her resolution. I simply cannot give up on Shōsaku-san. Even knowing I couldn’t relinquish him—having tried and failed when circumstances forced my hand—now I find myself utterly incapable of letting go. Now was the moment to decide. If I didn’t steel myself here tonight, who could say what fresh calamity might follow? Shōsaku-san’s heart had become clear to me—clear even beyond his absence from Fukada’s house. With a private smile blooming across her face, Otoyo solidified her resolve and sent her letter to Shōsaku.

Shōsaku, of course, had no possibility of objection; his reply was simple.

The reason he couldn't remain at Fukada's was also because of Otoyo-san. The reason he came back to life upon returning home was also because of Otoyo-san. Not even a hair's breadth of doubt remained within him. He would entrust his entire life to Otoyo-san.

If one could pass their days merely through an exchange of wills in such circumstances, then the words exchanged would undoubtedly be lies. When a suppressed fire reignited, its force was often twice what it had been before. There was a poem by someone expressing a wish to die around the time of the full moon in the second lunar month.

This was the night of the eleventh day, a late hour when the moon was faint.

Otoyo was doing laundry under the eaves of the storehouse in her home’s backyard. As for why people did laundry so late at night—the bathwater somehow washed stains out better; moreover, it saved both the effort of heating fresh water and conserved firewood, making it common practice in thrifty rural households. That night with hidden intentions, Otoyo had drawn the bath herself and—using laundry with the bathwater as pretext—waited for Shōsaku. To describe Otoyo’s house generally: it faced north toward the prefectural road at its front. The southern backyard spread wide, with storage sheds and plank-walled storehouses extending vertically from the main house in an oblong strip of land. At the rear boundary stood a low coralberry hedge; midway along it sat a nominal wicket gate; beyond which a single-plank bridge crossed a three-foot-wide stream to overlook expansive rice fields. To either side through oak groves peeked neighbors’ thatched roofs. Past nine o’clock when few remained awake made for a truly hushed and tranquil night—the moon slanted above a neighboring copse so that only eaves-upward parts of storehouse and shed caught its light. The plum tree pressing thick against the storehouse eaves likewise received moonlight solely on its upper boughs.

Otoyo was now doing laundry under the eaves of that storehouse, at the base of the plum tree. Beneath the faintly glowing plum tree, a woman with a pale face was washing clothes, her two white hands moving as she made splashing sounds in the water. Though the plum blossoms had passed their peak, their fragrance seemed now to be at its height. As her white hands moved with each motion, the plum fragrance seemed to waft through the air—a scene so enchanting it would quicken any onlooker’s heart. When her lover took notice of this sight as hers, the emotions that arose were beyond what anyone else could fathom.

Otoyo, now believing the time had come for the one she awaited to arrive, would frequently pause her laundry to turn her attention toward the wicket gate outside. Since the sound of washing would surely carry beyond the walls, there was no reason for Shōsaku to hesitate once he reached that point. When she strained her ears to catch even the faintest sound of approaching footsteps, the night had deepened and grown stiller yet. The night watchman’s clappers sounded from the main street. The distant barking of dogs from a neighboring village could also be heard.

Otoyo nearly stopped her laundry altogether and turned her attention to the main house as well. The main house fell into complete silence, as though the building itself were asleep. Otoyo could no longer focus on the laundry. She stood up and began to pace restlessly. Observing the moon’s appearance and noticing the plum blossoms’ fragrance—

“Oh, what a lovely fragrance.”

Whispering a single word, she peered outside the wicket gate. Outside, there was no sound of grass being stepped on. Otoyo detected even the throbbing within her own chest.

The distant roar of Kujūkuri’s waves, even on such a quiet night, continued to boom—boom—boom—boom, rocking the sleep of many. Even Otoyo could no longer remain composed and let out an unconscious sigh.

“Otoyo-san.” A voice—though barely audible—was unmistakably that person’s. Simultaneously, the wicket gate creaked open. Shōsaku abruptly shuddered from cold and began trembling violently. Otoyo too was gripped by identical convulsive shivering. These intimate particulars were best entrusted to the discernment of those who might understand them.

“It’s freezing.” “You waited, didn’t you?” Otoyo quietly inserted the key into the wicket gate and, weaving through the shadows of objects, guided her lover to the prepared spot.

Otoyo had been separated from Shōsaku for exactly three months.

Three months could be considered either long or short—but if spent in sorrow, suffering, and anxiety, even days numbering less than a hundred would surely feel quite long. For the two of them, this March was an extraordinary three months, rare even in a world full of changes. The two who had been united in body and soul had become complete strangers—yet unable to let go of each other, while resigning themselves to remain strangers—this was the March they had lived through. If I wished to end my life through sheer force of will alone, I could surely do so. My love cannot be killed by my own heart alone. It was a March when they tried with all their might to kill a love that could not be killed by their own hearts—and ultimately failed to kill it.

However, even if those three months felt long, their number was finite. The difference between another's husband and my own was a chasm no number could quantify. The one who had endured the tragic ordeal of being forced to make her beloved another's husband and watch him nearby had finally met with spring's grace, been granted new life, and renewed their pledge beneath plum blossoms and moonlight—this was Otoyo's night. This was no mere matter of weeping from overwhelming emotion. Otoyo could do nothing now but weep. Clutching her lover's knee, she cried and cried and cried. Otoyo rested her head on Shōsaku's lap, and Shōsaku on Otoyo's shoulder, pressing their heads together as they wept for over an hour.

It was naturally not a situation where any lamp burned. Even when they raised their heads, they could not see each other’s faces—only their hands remained clasped. “Shōsaku… I’m happy.” Otoyo had barely managed these words before collapsing into tears again. “Shōsaku—I’ll explain everything properly by letter later. For tonight… please just let me weep as I need to.”

Incoherently, Otoyo choked back her voice. Shōsaku could not utter a single word in the end. It must have been the feeling of having narrowly escaped a tragedy so sorrowful and bitter that their jade-strung threads had nearly snapped—now meeting their beloved in a place of fragile safety. As limitless joy filled their hearts to bursting, it stirred an equally fierce contrast with past misery; when sorrow and joy intermingled to reach a peak of intensity, anyone would have had no choice but to weep.

Love that means having fulfilled mutual affection or obtained romantic satisfaction is inherently shallow at its core. To those unacquainted with love’s sorrows, its essence cannot be conveyed.

For the two who had wept and wept, clinging to each other as they parted, had also come to share an indescribable joy.

V

The following evening, a letter from Shōsaku arrived at Otoyo’s residence.

“Omitted formalities—there should be no need for us to discuss feelings we already know so thoroughly by now, yet somehow I find myself unbearably eager to see your letter, Otoyo-san. Though I take up my brush wanting to convey my own thoughts as quickly as possible, I cannot grasp where to begin or how to order my words.” “Last night was truly unexpected—though it wasn’t a situation for earnest conversation to begin with, I had wanted to speak at least a little, and I even had stories to delight you, Otoyo-san. But whether it was because all my pent-up feelings overflowed at once, I ended up fidgeting nervously, choking up, my heart in utter disarray, unable to say anything at all. To my own surprise, I even forgot the very stories I’d meant to share to bring you joy. Yet by crying together until we’d washed away the anguish that had clogged our chests—that unbearable, suffocating pain—the relief afterward defies description. You must feel the same, Otoyo-san.” “The joy I felt last night when parting from you, Otoyo-san, and returning home was as if my body were floating and drifting through the air.” “Even now, I still feel as if my body is floating weightlessly.” “When I think there’s no one as happy as I am, I feel so happy—so happy I can hardly bear it.”

"The discussion about how we will be together from now on—let’s save that for when we meet again. As for what I mentioned about trying to make you happy—Mother and Sister seem strongly against it, but crucially, Brother told me: 'You must resolve to be with Otoyo-san.' Brother has always been very fond of Otoyo-san from the start. My body now belongs entirely to you, Otoyo-san—no serious ailments remain. So on my side, there’s no need to rush or worry now. Moreover, since there seems to be some fuss about us in society lately, let’s stay calm and wait awhile. Still, you must have your own thoughts too, Otoyo-san. How are things at your home? I want to hear about that—and I want to see your letter soon."

Shōsaku’s letter, true to form, had an air of nonchalance throughout.

The very next day, Otoyo sent a letter to Shōsaku. “I had meant to write first, but your letter arrived before mine and left me utterly overwhelmed. I took it out to read—read it again and again—yet found no mind to write the letter I ought to send you, so last night passed without progress. I must apologize sincerely for my conduct the other night. All I recall is weeping from sorrow as if in a dream; everything else has slipped from memory. Afterward, I felt I had been terribly rude. But I beg you to forgive all this—the way sadness and joy surged together in my heart until I could no longer hold them back. Shōsaku, these days I grow timid and faint of spirit. The moment I think of you, dear one, tears rise. Yet when I consider Brother’s gracious words—you at least may take comfort in them.”

"In my view—out of consideration for the Fukadas, consideration for the Akibas (Seiroku’s household), and for both your family and mine—if we two were to live shabbily side by side in this neighborhood, society would surely scorn us. Thus, I believe we have no choice but to leave our hometown. Though we should discuss the details in person, I think it would be best to go to Tokyo. When I think of that, as for my family—as you well know, Father is truly a stubborn man—there seems to be no hope of him listening to anything I say. Moreover, lately it appears there has been talk of a marriage proposal for me. I overheard murmurs about needing to act quickly before any mishaps occur—how utterly wretched this is. When you were alone, Shōsaku, I had suitors; when I was alone, you had prospects. Now that we’ve finally resolved to be together like this, immediately there’s talk of my marriage proposal—I feel utterly unmoored, my heart no longer my own."

But Shōsaku, no matter what may come hereafter, my resolve will not waver. Even if my body were torn limb from limb, my heart would never part from you. Though I am prepared for this, I cannot know what hardships we will face until we are finally together. Please, I beg you to understand what lies within my heart. Unlike my usual self, I have done nothing but complain—I must apologize for my rudeness. Even in speaking of such things, my heart finds solace, dear Shōsaku. “Even so, I, who have you, dear Shōsaku, do not consider myself unhappy in the least.”

The world was busy with preparations for sowing seeds. The weeping willows began to show a faint green tint. The season when the blooming of Higan cherry blossoms became a topic of conversation was, in both city and countryside, the time when people’s hearts were most uplifted.

In one household, when parents drove out their son-in-law, their daughter left home with him; though mediators urged the parents to take him back, this time the son-in-law refused to return. In another case, a certain daughter tried to elope with a man who had come from another province to work, only to be intercepted by her brother at the village border. With two such scandals sprouting in the small village, even Shōsaku and Otoyo’s love story—never an illicit affair to begin with—was soon supplanted by newer gossip.

VI

At the base of the coralberry hedge, butterbur sprouts stretched up innocently, their buds beginning to bloom. Along the outer stream, water dropwort created shaded patches here and there, narrowing the flow of water. A mated pair of swallows chattered animatedly as they wheeled over the rice nursery beds. The faint glow of spring dawn cast its warmth over rice fields where groups of two or three tilled the soil in scattered clusters—some cutting wheat sheaves, others fertilizing rapeseed plants—as the countryside entered its busiest season. Peach blossoms from the nearby field and pear blossoms from the hedge’s edge—perhaps scattered by last night’s wind—floated around the nursery beds like delicate petal patterns. The neatly arranged seedling beds already rose an inch thick with lush green. Unwittingly, the swallow pair had become two pairs; why did they sometimes skim their bellies against slender green blades? Had one faced this spring light with tranquil heart, even a non-poet might briefly forget worldly cares—but Otoyo, weighed by unbearable spring melancholy, was hardly one to bask in the season’s radiance.

Men were scarce at home, and women were busy preparing for silkworm cultivation. Otoyo went outside the latticed gate—where she had once welcomed Shōsaku—to wash silkworm trays in today’s tranquil air. Wrapped in irrepressible sorrow, she gave little care to the trays she washed, rising repeatedly to gaze at the distant rice fields. About a kilometer southward, amidst vast paddies, lay a grove like a small island—that was Shōsaku’s village. Through gaps in the trees glimmered the white walls of a storehouse—that was Shōsaku’s home.

Otoyo, as though only now realizing the depth of her longing for Shōsaku, remained unaware of the crimson tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What is Shōsaku doing now? Just exchanging letters leaves me feeling so terribly lonely." "Even though his house stands visible right there, does Elder brother still believe we should resolve to be together?" Otoyo murmured under her breath while gazing at Shōsaku’s house. As talk of marriage proposals appeared to solidify into reality at last，she found herself suddenly yearning to see him. Though meeting would serve no practical purpose now，she wanted to voice her tormented heart. When she realized it must be past ten，many silkworm trays still lay unwashed. Otoyo began scrubbing them absently，as if remembering an obligation. Her shapely shoulders bore an indeterminate russet sash，a white hand towel shielding her face from sunlight—the elegant line of her jaw. The sight of beauty marred by anguish proved almost too pitiful to bear.

“Otoyo! Otoyo!”

The caller was her sister-in-law, Ochiyo. Otoyo did not respond. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t—she couldn’t. Because she already knew why she was being summoned. “Otoyo, Father is calling for you.” Ochiyo approached the latticed gate and called out.

“Yes.” Otoyo finally managed to reply in a voice that sounded pushed out. Though she had known for about ten days that today would come and had steeled herself sufficiently, she now felt a simmering frustration in her gut. “Come now, Otoyo, let us go together.”

Ochiyo came up to the outside of the latticed gate, “My, what fine weather!”

Ochiyo gazed leisurely at the rice fields, oblivious to the distress etched on Otoyo’s face. Otoyo reluctantly removed her sash, took a hand towel, and the two of them entered the tatami room together. Her father, who had been waiting impatiently, sat smiling cheerfully by himself, “Otoyo, come here. Otoyo.” “Yes.”

Otoyo had always been courteous to her parents, but today—given the gravity of the matter—she sat with even greater formality, positioned about two and a half tatami mats away from her father. On the red sandalwood tray sat Kutani teacups and a Negoro confectionery box—even without being told, one could tell this was a guest requiring meticulous preparation. Mother was also seated, preparing fresh tea. Otoyo bowed her head slightly and stared at her hands resting on her lap. She was not one to show emotion in her complexion under normal circumstances, but today, unable to contain herself any longer, the blood drained from her face, leaving it nearly as pale as white wax.

Her father, lost in his own self-centered thoughts, paid no heed to Otoyo’s pallor; her mother, however, noticed.

“Otoyo, what’s wrong? You look terribly pale.” “No, it’s nothing at all.” “I see. If you say it’s nothing.” Mother poured the brewed tea into three bowls—her husband’s, her daughter’s, and her own—and sat down to hear the discussion. “Otoyo, this concerns nothing else—about your marriage proposal, Mr. Hazure came by and has just now left.” “You must know Saito of Hayafune—you’ve likely met him at least once. Since we’re already thoroughly acquainted with each other, it’s truly a straightforward matter.” “We have been discussing this since the start of the month—they say they know you well, Otoyo, and that if you’ll just consent to come, they’d want you managing their household affairs from the very day you arrive. It’s an earnest plea on their part. Though this is their third attempt at marriage and your second—well—that can’t be helped.” “Even if it’s their third marriage attempt with no children involved, it amounts to a first union.” “Since sending you to such a place once was cruel to you too, this time—though we already know—I checked everything thoroughly just to be certain.” “They have absolutely no debts. Their estate spans twice our land.” “He once served as village headman too—more than suitable as your husband.” “I believe going there would bring you supreme happiness.” “And so our entire household has no objections—it all hinges on your answer now.” “Mr. Hazure left acting as though everything were settled.” “Otoyo—surely you’ve no objections.”

Otoyo had become like a doll and remained silent.

“Otoyo, you’ve no objections.” “I thought we could settle it straightaway since it’s such an excellent match, but you’re a difficult one—that’s why I’m pressing the matter like this.” “You’ve no objections, I trust.”

Otoyo still remained silent. Father, finally noticing his daughter’s pallor, strengthened his voice in a sullen tone, “If there’s no objection, we’ll settle it y’hear? I meant to give our reply today, but thinking that might be hasty, decided we’d respond by tomorrow instead. You couldn’t possibly have objections—they’re perfectly reasonable folk, you know.” Otoyo finally moved. She planted her trembling hands before her knees, “Father, this is a grave matter concerning my life. I beg you—grant me three days before requiring my answer…”

Otoyo answered in a slightly trembling voice. After all, she couldn’t bring herself to give a decisive refusal from the very start. Otoyo’s father had been a man of unyielding will since his youth—one who prided himself on never retracting his declarations. Even as he aged, that disposition showed no sign of abating. "I dislike taking back what I’ve declared," he would say while avoiding public appearances and rarely interfering even in household matters—whether by that same principle or not. Being such a man, he seethed with deep-seated resentment when his words went unheeded. Now that Otoyo’s evasive response suggested refusal, he already burned with rage internally. Shōsaku’s lingering presence in her heart seemed to fuel his anger further—his complexion darkened as he glared at her—until after some time,

“Hmm. So you’re saying that in three days you’ll consent?”

Otoyo remained silent. “Otoyo, if y’keep quiet like this, I can’t tell what’s in your head.” “You sayin’ you’ll agree once three days pass?” “Now Otoyo—my own daughter—you’re a sensible woman.” “All this frettin’ we do—it’s for your sake, y’know.” “I’m grateful for your kindness, Father. But havin’ been burnt once, this time I must treat it as my life’s gravest matter.” “I beg you—grant me three days to think.” “Whether I accept or refuse—within these three days, I’ll fix my resolve.”

Father’s face looked as if he might roar with rage at any moment, but given the gravity of the matter, he restrained his anger.

“After we declared we’d give a definite answer by tomorrow, how can you request them to wait two more days for your reply?” “If you can’t decide by tomorrow, there’s no reason two extra days would make it clearer.” “How dare you speak such mocking words to others? You must give a definitive yes or no by tomorrow.” “Otoyo, can’t you reconsider even slightly?” “Why would your parents and siblings—all in agreement—recommend something detrimental to you?” “It’s precisely because I acknowledge our past parental negligence that I insist on marrying you into the Saito family this time.” “From every angle, there’s nothing lacking—though someone as young as you might struggle to form firm judgment, with Saito you can be assured.” “Can you truly not consent?”

Father restrained his boiling anger, clenched his hands, and admonished her. Otoyo stared unblinkingly at the hands on her knees and remained silent. Father could no longer endure.

“So you’ve finally decided to refuse.” “Your intentions are clear as day—since you can’t give a straight answer right away, you spout this nonsense about needing three days!” “You’re making fools of your parents right to their faces.” “So what’s this—you’re still carrying on with that Shōsaku bastard, aren’t you?” “You damn—mocking me… Ungrateful wretch! You intend to disgrace your parents even further? How dare you—” Otoyo collapsed in tears. Father, unable to contain himself, suddenly stood up with furious eyes ablaze. Mother hurriedly rose and clung to him.

“Ochiyo! Ochiyo… Come quickly!”

Ochiyo also came flying from the next room and restrained Father. Ochiyo finally managed to calm Father, while Mother led Otoyo away to another room.

The commotion here had subsided for the moment, but the matter should not be left to rest as it was.

VII

Otoyo’s father had always loved her dearly, believing she was the child who had most inherited his own disposition and that—despite her being a woman—there was no one but Otoyo who could truly engage him in conversation; indeed, he had come to rely on her more than on her elder brother Sasuke. Otoyo had always gotten along well with her father and had hardly ever gone against his wishes until now. Despite Mother’s great concern when rumors arose about Otoyo and Shōsaku, Father trusted Otoyo; convinced that she, of all people, would never cause her parents worry, he paid no heed to the gossip. When Shōsaku indeed became Fukada’s adopted son and Otoyo returned home without incident, Father had assumed the villagers’ gossip was merely spiteful slander—until now. Confronted with Otoyo’s unexpectedly stubborn refusal of what he deemed an impeccable marriage proposal, a refusal he discerned stemmed from her lingering ties to Shōsaku, he felt as though his hopes and happiness had been torn from their very roots. Disappointment, resentment, and shame surged through his chest all at once.

Yet he couldn’t remain solely angry, nor could he dwell entirely in hatred, for even within his vexing obstinacy lingered a father’s love for his daughter. Though she appeared wise, her youth left her single-mindedly fixated yet lost—a pitiable state—and he couldn’t dismiss the thought that guiding her to reconsider was a parent’s duty. In the inner tatami room after dinner, even with the three of them—the parents and Sasuke—gathered around the brazier, their conversation lacked spark.

“We’ve ended up with such a headstrong child.” Father sighed, staring at the ceiling. “Otoyo’s always been your favorite—you’d think she’d listen to you.” “You shouldn’t say such things in the middle of this conversation.” “She’s never once gone against your word before, and considering this is an exceptional match we’re discussing—her stubborn refusal must come from this Shōsaku business.” “How could you not have noticed anything as her parent?”

“But you see—it’s only been about a month since Shōsaku left the Fukada household.” “That’s precisely why I never imagined such a thing could have happened in that time.” “Mother—people are saying Shōsaku left Fukada for Otoyo’s sake.”

“Is that truly so?” “That man is utterly contemptible! Showing sympathy to someone who can’t even be taken as a son-in-law or given as a bride—what does she think she’s doing? She wasn’t such a fool. It’s a shame about this marriage proposal, but we’ll have to reject it—first thing tomorrow. And we can’t keep that wretch here any longer—it’s ruining our reputation. Get rid of him immediately. Damn him!” “But you see—she hasn’t outright refused yet. If we give them our answer by tomorrow, that should suffice. Let’s take more time to hear her true feelings properly. And regardless of whether we marry her off or not, we must investigate this matter with Shōsaku.”

“No way—no way at all, given how she’s acting… When people decide to be fools, they truly commit to it. Utterly exasperating.” “What a shame—it’s good for appearances, it’d make her happy, and they’re so eager for it over there—it’s truly regrettable.”

Father sighed deeply. "So please try persuading her thoroughly—once and then again." "Even if you say it's for Otoyo's happiness, if she herself doesn't consider it such and flatly refuses, then there's simply nothing to be done." "Though everyone sees it as happiness itself, we can't let her defy her parents' wishes and act so selfishly without reason." "Even if you say you can't make her do it, Mother, there's nothing to be done."

“Sasuke, don’t talk such nonsense! When even you start speaking this way, no wonder things have come to this.” “When she says she needs time to consider her own life’s turning point, demanding she consent to everything on the spot is rather cruel, wouldn’t you agree?” “Then Sasuke—do you too oppose sending Otoyo to the Saitos?”

“I don’t disagree,” Sasuke said, “but if she’s saying she hates it that much...” “I’m not taking Otoyo’s side here.” “It’s just that Father gets stubborn once he starts on something—that’s the real problem.” “What... What stubbornness?” Mother snapped. “That girl says ‘I hate it’ because there’s a reason! I won’t let her dismiss it like that!” “Enough, Sasuke,” Father cut in. “This isn’t helping.” Turning to Mother, he added, “Ochiyo should get to the heart of it properly. Let’s settle this tomorrow.” His voice sharpened as he gestured to the cold kettle: “Sasuke—tea.”

Father’s expression grew increasingly stern. It was true—he had always been stubborn, yes, but this time he wasn’t being unreasonable. He had expected the whole household to rejoice over what should have been a smooth resolution. Yet here they were: Otoyo refused outright, Sasuke showed no enthusiasm, and Father found himself boiling with frustration—unwittingly hardening into stubbornness once more. Utterly exasperated—how had he become such a fool? It was hopeless; he’d just reject it all. Yet even as these words left his lips, he wasn’t the sort to abandon his convictions at the first sign of difficulty. Twisting logic every which way to tenaciously cling to his original resolve was this man’s habit; Otoyo would face hardship from now on.

Ochiyo was not much of a helpful confidante, but as she was a kind woman without ill will, the two got along well even in the delicate relationship of bride and sister-in-law. So Ochiyo, with genuine kindness and sympathy for Otoyo, told her that now that things had come to this, hiding would do no good—she must lay bare her heart without concealment. Since Otoyo had indeed been thinking the same way, she laid bare every detail of her relationship with Shōsaku, “I had a husband who brought me nothing but unhappiness—a man my heart could never accept. I endured indescribable disgust… To say I’ve had more than enough of that would be foolishness itself. What purpose is there in taking a husband? Even if there were no Shōsaku, I would never go to a man whose heart I cannot understand.” “If I were to change my resolve now and marry elsewhere, everything I’ve done would be seen as shameless.” “Though I know it’s truly unforgivable to defy my parents—who worry so endlessly for my sake—this one thing I must leave to God’s will. Sister, please forgive me. I know this is selfishness through and through, but I resolved myself long ago.” “No matter what may happen now, I have no intention of looking away.”

Ochiyo found herself crying for Otoyo without reason and came to genuinely sympathize with her. That very night, Ochiyo told Mother, and Mother told her husband. Even Otoyo’s fiery words had cooled considerably when relayed from Ochiyo to Mother, and by the time Mother recounted them to Father, they had become a completely dispassionate explanation. “What the… So if she’s married off now, she’ll be seen as promiscuous…?” “Ridiculous! Isn’t what you’re doing downright promiscuous, you ungrateful wretch? I won’t let this stand!”

In any case, with matters set for tomorrow, this night came to an end.

VIII When breakfast was ready, Otoyo still had not left her room. Ochiyo worked alone and served the meal to the entire household. She dressed the two siblings in their kimonos for school, swept through the tatami room once over, and before long Sasuke shouldered his hoe and left for the rice fields.

Ochiyo quietly entered Otoyo’s room, “Otoyo-san，please rest well today．I’ll wash the silkworm baskets now．” Even after being told this，Otoyo couldn’t bring herself to stay in bed and left her room．Her weight loss had become noticeable overnight．Father sat puffing tobacco in the back room while talking with Mother．Though Otoyo felt no particular hesitation，the prospect of facing another day’s reproaches made her chest flutter；unable to sit for breakfast，she splashed water on her face，changed into her kimono，and was heading toward where Ochiyo washed baskets when—

“Otoyo.”

It was Mother who called. Otoyo took her seat in a position slightly similar to yesterday’s. “Good morning.”

She said faintly and waited for her parents’ words. Though they were her own parents, their very faces filled her with dread, and so she kept her head bowed. Even when a criminal is being interrogated, one might think they wouldn’t suffer this much. Otoyo’s chest heaved with each breath. “Otoyo… I’ve heard everything about your heart from Ochiyo. I understand it completely.” “I have also come to understand that you have a firm promise with a man your parents do not approve of.” “I fully understand your resolve, but listen well, Otoyo… These two sitting here are the parents who gave birth to you and raised you to this day.” “If we follow your resolve, it would mean that even after raising a child, parents cannot interfere in deciding their spouse—but such a thing does not exist, not even in the West or India.” “We’re your parents—if our dear child has a wish, we’d want to grant it if we could.” “Making you cry like this isn’t for our own sake—it’s all done out of concern for your future.” “Look, just because it’s your parents’ idea doesn’t mean it’s necessarily right—but we’re older and have lived through many things. You may be clever, but you’re still young.” “Not letting our child do exactly as they wish—this too is a parent’s duty.” “Shōsaku isn’t a bad man—he isn’t a bad man—but with both him being strong-willed and you being strong-willed, the whole thing was impossible from the start.” “A secret between the two of you that cannot be permitted.” “In other words, isn’t this what you’d call a promiscuity forbidden by parents—don’t you see?”

Otoyo let her tears fall freely onto her lap at this moment. She made no move to wipe her tear-streaked face, lips pressed tightly together as she kept her head bowed. Mother, too, pitifully found her eyes growing moist. “Whether it’s Shōsaku’s household or any other—considering our standing with the Fukadas and Akiha—if we were to permit your promiscuity, the honor of our family as the foremost house would be lost.” “Isn’t this truly disgraceful in regards to the Saitō matter as well?” “Even if you two being lovers is fine by you, what about the trouble you’re causing your parents and siblings? Otoyo, do you think your family matters nothing as long as the two of you are happy?” “What’s done cannot be undone—but why must you refuse to correct it now?” “Even if you feel obligated to Shōsaku, there are countless ways to negotiate through mediators.” “Until now, you were always so reasonable with your parents and siblings—I can’t fathom how you’ve become someone who won’t listen to such basic sense. It’s truly baffling to me.” “I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

Having said this, Father too, as if overwhelmed by emotion, let tears well up in his eyes. Mother had been wiping her tears for some time. Otoyo, of course, could hardly bear the pain. “All of this—if you would just change your resolve—your fate would naturally be secured, and the family’s honor spared from ruin.” “Even Shōsaku, if you weren’t here, could go be an adopted son somewhere suitable again.” “Wouldn’t everything work out favorably?” “Now listen closely, Otoyo—you’re not one who can’t grasp reason.”

Father’s words grew gentler, and Otoyo’s anguish intensified all the more. Otoyo, too, had things she wanted to say lodged in her throat. To have my and Shōsaku’s relationship dismissed outright as promiscuous was truly mortifying. Yet for Otoyo to speak openly of love before her parents—such brazenness was something she could never bring herself to, even if it meant death.

“Everything you say, Father, is entirely correct—I am profoundly at fault—but please, in your mercy, cast away this unfilial child.”

Otoyo, her pride and endurance finally exhausted, collapsed in loud sobs. Her timid mother, “Then do as you please, I suppose.” “Hmph. Be stubborn to the end then. There may be painful aspects to this, but your parents are showing kindness through reason—surely you can consider that even a little? To stubbornly insist on your own way without regard for right or wrong—is that your resolve? Very well—then we too have our own resolve.”

Having declared this, Father stood up and left with heavy footsteps. Of course, the marriage proposal was called off. If Shōsaku had not existed and Otoyo had merely avoided the Saitō marriage proposal, even her stubborn father might not have been so obstinate—but in others’ eyes, it would still appear that Otoyo had selfishly insisted on her own will, making reconciliation difficult. Father continued to make Otoyo cry time and again with obligation-laden logic and moral arguments. There had been more than one or two occasions when he had made a scene about killing her. He was already a stubborn and obstinate man by nature, but in this matter alone—where he believed his arguments were clear in reason and justice, with not a shred of unreasonableness—the fact that they held no sway at all left him utterly consumed by resentment. Because Otoyo, out of sheer self-willed stubbornness, persisted in defying her parents’ wishes over something as plain as day, he simply could not forgive her. Yet in the end, because she was his own child, he could do nothing but let matters remain unresolved.

Though Otoyo’s heart remained unyielding to the end, her attitude toward her father was gentle through and through.

Yet, “Since I am at fault, please cast me aside…” She kept repeating this plea. If she realized she was wrong, then when asked why she wouldn’t heed her parents’ words, she would collapse in tears. “Since we let you have your way in refusing the Saitō marriage proposal, I say that if a suitable match comes along this time, you must obey your father’s will.”

Because Otoyo absolutely refused to say “I agree,” her father’s arguments held no ground. This frustration became unbearable for him. Though he insisted it was not mere obstinacy—that it was for the family’s sake—once his irritation intensified, all else fell away, plunging him into single-minded pursuit of his own will. One might think anger and exasperation would lead him to relinquish his stance—but a stubborn man, however enraged, neither yields nor abandons his original resolve. Father had loved Otoyo from the beginning, and even now could not help pitying her—yet once consumed by stubbornness, his own child meant nothing to him, which proved he was no heartless or cruel father in ordinary times.

Otoyo had grown so visibly haggard that anyone could see it; these past few days, neither her bright voice nor her radiant laughter were seen from her anymore. Both her elder brother and his wife, and her mother, could no longer bear to watch.

Though Sasuke was a man who rarely concerned himself with most matters, there came a time when he said: “I can’t fathom why Father harbors such implacable hatred toward Otoyo. “If you’re resolved enough to die over this, then why not entrust it to Otoyo’s own judgment?”

When he said this, Father retorted, “Hmph. So you’re saying we should let her indulge in promiscuity to her heart’s content?” But he always said things like that right away, leaving no room for response. Ochiyo, however, sympathized deeply, pleading with Mother and her own husband to secretly devise a method of consolation. She voluntarily acted as an intermediary for correspondence with Shōsaku and even contrived ways for the two to meet occasionally. No matter how sorrowful or painful things became for Otoyo, whenever she saw a letter from Shōsaku or even rarely met him, all her grief and anguish would vanish from the depths of her heart—so she did not spend her days weeping as others might imagine. True to her reputation as a skilled worker, she labored twice as hard as anyone else at every task.

Father still declared at every breakfast and dinner that keeping someone like her in the house would disgrace them in society’s eyes—they ought to just send her off into service somewhere without delay. Mother, being timid by nature, couldn’t openly oppose her husband’s words despite pitying Otoyo in her heart. “Sending Otoyo into service—if you want to replace her, you’d need two ordinary women! One wouldn’t suffice.”

The straightforward elder brother simply said what he did and left it at that—neither declaring it unacceptable nor agreeing to proceed. Once the meal was finished, he would briskly head out to the rice fields.

Nine

The world turned to fresh greenery. The pea plants and broad bean plants, their pods swelling at the base while growing tall with flowers. The wheat fields finally began to yellow. Around this time when loach catchers wandered out to the back rice fields every night at eight or nine o'clock, the silkworms entered their second molt; farm work grew busier with each passing day.

Through Ochiyo’s thoughtful arrangement, Otoyo was able to meet Shōsaku for an entire day and discuss their future direction. This was, of course, something Ochiyo’s husband was fully aware of. Ochiyo, who had grown increasingly sympathetic toward Otoyo since then, was in truth motivated less by facilitating discussions than by kindness—she wished to let them share a tranquil night of whispered intimacies while still immersed in their jewel-like love, before farm work grew too demanding.

Because Ochiyo would be accompanying her, the parents granted their permission without hesitation. They would first visit Jao Gongen in Yōanji Village, where they had long been devotees, then detour north to Ochiyo’s hometown in Sachiya on their return, and if it grew late, stay overnight there—all arranged through Ochiyo’s planning. That day, they rose early in the morning, the two of them tidied up their morning tasks, and helped each other tie their hair. Because she was to accompany Otoyo, Ochiyo too dolled herself up like a young woman. Their gingko-leaf chignons were identical, their lined kimonos the same, their obis of yuzen-dyed crepe somewhat similar in pattern, and their black silk-covered umbrellas also matched in color. When the two women descended into the garden with their scarlet under-kimono hems tucked up, the sparkling weather made the surroundings suddenly brighten.

After so long, Otoyo showed an unclouded smile, yet her lingering reserve and inwardness likely stemmed from a faint sense of guilt. The two women, like birds freed from a cage, found everything they saw along the way fascinating. By a roadside house were dahlias; they stopped to look. Azaleas were blooming; they stopped to look. There were Western-style garden flowers; again they stopped to look. Ochiyo remained effortlessly carefree. “Miss Otoyo, look at this! Miss Otoyo, I’m telling you—look at these beautiful flowers!”

Whenever Ochiyo saw flowers, she would stop there and delight in them. And each time she would repeat, "Miss Otoyo, look at this!" Ochiyo, carefree by nature and yet to taste hardship, had gone to the trouble of bringing Otoyo this far, but she could not fathom that within Otoyo’s heart lay none of the ease that would allow lingering to gaze at roadside flowers. Though Ochiyo was a year older, she remained a child when it came to matters of love.

Otoyo, having no choice but to follow Ochiyo’s lead, murmured "Oh how lovely, how lovely" almost unconsciously as she matched her steps. With their umbrellas tilted against their shoulders, the two walked in such a way that one couldn’t tell whether they were strolling or playing. Otoyo was unbearably frustrated. Before leaving home, Otoyo had been happy to leave; after leaving home, she had been happy for a while to have left—but now, there was nothing in her mind but thoughts of Shōsaku. Otoyo, swept up in Ochiyo’s carefree mood, said things she didn’t mean, forced smiles at what failed to amuse her, and walked on in a daze. In Otoyo’s heart, there was only Shōsaku; the dahlias, the azaleas, the Western flowers—none of them existed at all.

“I wonder if Shōsaku has gone ahead already, or if he’s still coming from behind.” These thoughts remained locked within her heart—to Ochiyo, who remained cheerfully oblivious, she could not speak of them. Though she occasionally glanced back over her shoulder, no one resembling him came into view. If I stroll around idly, my body just grows more sluggish. “Miss Otoyo, I’m a bit worn out now.” “Shall we rest here for a bit?”

Ochiyo’s carefreeness knew no bounds. Otoyo’s heart yearned to reach Myōsenji even a single step sooner.

"But Miss Ochiyo, since this is Himejima's outskirts, the village children will arrive soon." "We were supposed to meet at Myōsenji Temple, weren't we?" Having been told this, she finally seemed to notice—at least somewhat— "Then let's pick up our pace a little." Myōsenji Temple in Ienoko Village, though once famous throughout this district, now preserved traces of its former glory only in its Nio Gate and main hall, with nobody left to sweep the dust from its grounds. Particularly striking was how the main hall's roof had partially collapsed midway, exposing the bamboo framework beneath. When the two women passed through the gate, Shōsaku remained unaware of their arrival, absorbed in surveying the hall's surroundings and studying its condition. Though no expert in architecture—merely a man with amateur interest—he had immediately noticed this main hall's distinct architectural style from others and found himself scrutinizing it intently.

“Leaving such a splendid structure exposed to the rain is outrageous—proof there’s no one left in the surrounding villages! A disgrace to this district! They’ve really let things go too far. Even the prefectural office ought to do something about it. In short—a humiliation for all Chiba Prefecture people! Disgraceful!”

Shōsaku muttered these things to himself, unaware that his waiting lover had already reached this place. Ochiyo clapped her hands briskly; Shōsaku turned around and emerged. “Shōsaku, what are you gazing at so carefreely?” “Oh, this grand hall’s fallen into such disrepair.” “My, you’re hopeless! We’ve been here ages while you mooned over some temple and forgot us entirely!”

Ochiyo might not have understood her own carefreeness, but she appeared to recognize Shōsaku’s. Shōsaku approached the two women with a gentle smile. When thoughts grow too numerous, words seem to falter; Shōsaku spoke nothing to Otoyo, and Otoyo merely smiled at him with radiant beauty without uttering a word. The only movement that caught his eye was Otoyo pointlessly shifting her umbrella from right hand to left and back again. What we call nostalgia—that formless heart—often finds connection through exchanged words between people, but such instances likely belong to ordinary circumstances.

Now, even when Shōsaku and Otoyo met, they did not speak. It wasn’t because Ochiyo was present, nor were they sulking at each other. They found satisfaction without exchanging a single word. It was because the formless heart known as nostalgia could be fully embraced without the aid of words.

For a while, an innocent exchange—about whether they had waited or not—continued between Ochiyo and Shōsaku. Thoughts that could make one lean forward remained unspoken; they passed the time with such trivial talk. Love remained ever an impatient force that defied the heart’s governance. The three of them opened their rice ball lunches here.

Ten

“Slowpokes,” Shōsaku grumbled two or three times, and around two in the afternoon, the three of them finally reached Mijagaike Pond.

These days stretched endlessly long—so much so that losing oneself in thought could make one forget whether it was morning or afternoon. The season of young leaves, not yet oppressive with heat, made temple visits most delightful. Since joining together as three, both Otoyo and Shōsaku had found partial calm in their hearts, making everything they saw grow interesting. Buoyancy rose naturally within them. Present satisfactions brought joy while thoughts of the distant future were unconsciously relegated to mental corners.

Had it been just Shōsaku and Otoyo alone, things might not have gone this way. There was Ochiyo—a buffer between them. While on one hand her presence might have seemed intrusive, on the other, it was precisely this that kept their interactions balanced and prevented them from veering into extremes. As a result, their outing today turned out more enjoyable than they had anticipated. At first, Ochiyo’s carefreeness had stood out, but now the three of them had grown somewhat equally carefree. However, for Shōsaku and Otoyo, there was, of course, an inexplicable joy all their own. As if they had swept away every last speck of dust that had gathered in every corner, their hands, feet, and minds—once perpetually cramped and bent over—now felt all impediments lifted, stretching freely. Never had there been a day as clear-hearted as this one.

At Mijagaike Pond, ducks still remained. Takabe ducks, small ducks, and large ducks were also visible. From winter to spring, they were said to number in uncountable thousands, but even that day hundreds could be seen frolicking. The pond spanned fifty or sixty thousand *tsubo*; at first glance, it appeared a rather large lake. The water was clear and the surrounding hills stood beautiful, wrapped in young grass's green; along the shore, wild rice and reeds formed youthful elongated contours upon the pond. In northern Kazusa's flatlands, this was after all a scenic spot worthy of leisure. The ducks had gathered from the central area southward in an unfrequented hill's shadow, crying out with indistinct voices. When one speaks of Mijagaike Pond, its name may be fearsome, but it was merely a small lake suitable even for women and children to play in.

On the lakeside plain stood three or four thatched huts. Among them stood a small hut facing the water, called Kogetsu-tei. It lent seats to those who sought them. The three of them spread out sweets and fruits bought from Tōgane and conversed openly while gazing at the lake surface. The seventy-year-old proprietor, for the sake of the young man and woman, recounted how he had obtained permission to designate this area as a prohibited zone for gun hunting, the pond’s history, and even matters of duck hunting. Among his stories were some interesting ones. “It seems even among waterfowl there exists something like marital fidelity. When either a male or female is taken, the remaining one—a widowed bird, I suppose—can sometimes be seen off to the side, crying piteously alone while other pairs frolic together joyfully.” “Such things happen from time to time, and ah—you can immediately tell that that one has lost its mate.” “It’s truly admirable.”

Upon hearing this story, both Otoyo and Shōsaku felt tears threatening to spill over, but when the proprietor left his seat, Otoyo—unable to contain herself—let out a sigh and brought up the many hardships she and Shōsaku would surely face from now on. Ochiyo also turned to Shōsaku, “Shōsaku, you must know this already, but ever since the Saitō no Ichijō incident, Father has come to resent Otoyo terribly, and his heart remains unsoftened even now. So you see, Otoyo’s worries and hardships have been far from ordinary.” “Even now, Father’s temper hasn’t cooled.” “Otoyo has grown so thin—it’s unbearable to watch. That’s why I consulted with my family and devised this plan for today.” “It’s quite a risky scheme, but I couldn’t bear seeing Otoyo suffer so. That’s why, Shōsaku, tonight you two must discuss everything thoroughly and reach a decision.” “If you both can settle matters through proper discussion like this, we at home can find a way to approach Father about it—you understand, Shōsaku?”

Shōsaku spoke haltingly. “Ochiyo… I can’t begin to express how grateful I am for your kindness and concern.” “It’s been four months since I last saw Otoyo properly.” “I’d heard she’d grown thin… but seeing her this emaciated earlier at Myōsenji—it shocked me.” “I’ve resolved to leave for Tokyo within five or six days. Please rest assured—both of you—my brother himself insists on it.”

“Shōsaku—what’s Otoyo feeling? What’s your resolve?” “Like I told you before, my resolve’s set in stone.” “With just your decision, I’m ready anytime.” “I already talked to Mother the other day.” “When I laid out my plans like this—‘Aye, that’s fine. If young folks are gonna put their backs into it, the city’s the place. I ain’t one to fuss over pride or whatnot—Tokyo’s where the work’s worth doin’.’” “Then once you’ve made up your mind like that, decide to carry it out as quickly as possible.” “There’s somethin’ else I gotta tell ya. I ain’t much myself, but them villagers called me greedy, greedy—though thanks to that, five or six years of hard work’s got me ’bout fifteen hundred yen saved up.” “As for the portion I’m giving you—since it doesn’t touch the ancestral property—it’s my own business.” “You gotta stick to that plan—learn yourself a proper trade in Tokyo… When Otoyo’s old man starts makin’ trouble, that’s just a father’s love talkin’, ain’t it? It’ll sort itself out in time. Quit frettin’ and keep pushin’ forward steady-like.”

“Since my brother says this, I’ve no worries left.” “Please have Ochiyo convey this properly to Sasuke—and I earnestly ask you to assist with Father too.” Ochiyo, who had always revered Otoyo—her sister-in-law yet superior in every skill—felt boundless joy at having acted, for once, like a true elder sister.

“Then you can finally be at ease, Otoyo.” “Now that it’s just Father alone at home, we’ll manage to talk things through.” “Today was truly delightful.” “Ochiyo, I can’t begin to tell you how painful it is to keep Father angry like this for so long.” “There’s nothing unreasonable at all in what Father says—I want to somehow mend his mood, I…”

“Well, I fully understand the hardships you’ve been through, Otoyo.”

Shōsaku looked between Ochiyo and Otoyo’s faces, “Ochiyo, Otoyo has become a bit different from the Otoyo she used to be.” “How is she different?” “She used to be much more decisive and wasn’t as worry-prone as she is now. Lately, she’s become strangely timid—Otoyo has.” Otoyo, her long, clear eyes brimming with a smile, looked off to the side. “That’s also because you’ve caused Otoyo so much trouble, Shōsaku.”

“No such thing—I’ve always done as Otoyo says.” “Oh, how hateful of you to say such things!” “Then why did you go to Fukada as an adopted son, Shōsaku?” Ochiyo said this and laughed—ha ha ha. “That’s also because Otoyo told me to go.” “Enough already! If we keep talking like this, even the ducks will laugh at us.” “Otoyo, Shōsaku—come on now, let’s go pay our respects to the Snake King Deity.” The three scrambled outside. Following the shore along the northern path of the pond for seven or eight blocks would bring them to Yōanji Village. Chasing each other, now picking wildflowers, now gathering pebbles to toss, now clinging together at the cry of “Snake!”—the three made their way around the pond’s edge.

“Shōsaku—is the Snake King Deity really a god who cures chapped skin?” “What sort of god it is—I couldn’t tell you myself.” “Then is he just a god you pray to about cracked hands?” “That’s gods for you—ask for anything and you’ll get your blessing.” “They say if your hands and feet heal, you’re supposed to make him tabi socks or gloves or such, right Shōsaku?” “That old man earlier said the divine favors here are mighty potent.”

The three came before the Snake King Deity while engaging in innocent conversation. Even so, the three of them—utterly earnest in their prayers—ran once more around the pond’s perimeter with growing delight until at last the sun began to set.

Eleven

From the middle of Higashi-Kana Town toward the northern hill behind, at a slightly elevated spot, there lay a distinct scenic area. Surrounded by hills on three sides and centered around a small triangular lake—as though a great mirror of thick glass had been cast out—stood a temple, a school, numerous farmhouses, and inns. Bathed in the radiant glow of the evening sun, young leaves from the surrounding foliage mirrored upon its surface; at the lake’s still heart lay a realm apart from the human world, embodying the meaning of another world.

This small lake bore a vulgar name; to utter it felt like defiling hallowed ground. The two ancient temples facing each other across the lake were said to include Saifuku-ji on the eastern hill. Sacred ancient pines and cedars—their forest towered high, reverently shrouding temple halls and pagodas in solemn grandeur.

Whether picking mulberry leaves or tea leaves, three or four men and women carrying baskets emerged from a corner of the forest and descended before Saifuku-ji.

Ochiyo returned to her home in Kitatano Sachiya to the north, and Shōsaku and Otoyo took lodgings at a lakeside inn. As if they could not even shake their heads, the two of them—who had been tormented by pressing, agonizing problems—forgot those troubles and found an evening’s respite here. Like a ship that had escaped a storm and entered a harbor; like the waters of raging rapids finding respite in a brief rocky eddy; the two of them found here an evening’s reprieve.

Those filled with ample leisure may, in their thoughts, fail to comprehend the essence of leisure itself. Those in circumstances devoid of leisure can first properly appreciate the essence of leisure when they discover even a sliver of it.

Having bathed in the first hot bath of the day to soothe away today’s fatigue, they stood on the second-floor veranda facing the profound serenity of another world—a gentle youth and a fair lady who were now by no means a pitiable pair.

When one feels leisure in their being, their thoughts invariably drift away from themselves. “Miss Otoyo—what a splendid view! Shall we go down and see? If we look back from over there, I’m sure it’ll be quite interesting.” “I think so too—I agree. Let’s go down quickly, before sunset.” Otoyo replaced her hairpin—its gold-plated prongs adorned with ruby beads—adjusted her obi cord, and swiftly tidied her appearance. Here, a plump maid of twenty-seven or twenty-eight came up carrying tea utensils. She expressed gratitude for the tip and bowed courteously.

“I’ve brought fresh tea leaves—please, go ahead…” “Ah, we’ll go down now and take a stroll around the lake.” “The two of you going together… Well now…” While pouring tea, the maid cast sidelong glances at Otoyo’s appearance. Otoyo paid no attention to her, taking the rustling haori lined with Kai silk and helping Shōsaku into it. When Shōsaku clumsily tied the haori cords, Otoyo silently retied them without a word. Her movements were graceful and dignified. The maid, whether moved by emotion or maintaining courtesy,

“How enviable.” “Ahahaha! To think I’d be called enviable today of all days!” Otoyo personally poured tea for Shōsaku again, took a sip herself, and they immediately went down to the lakeside. “Which way should we go?” “Either direction would do, but you mustn’t walk facing the sun, Shōsaku.” “Right—then let’s start from the west side.”

The three people who had been fishing from an extremely small, box-like boat moved four or five *ken* out from the shore had vanished without a trace. The lake lay perfectly still, not a ripple stirring. Having temporarily set aside the question of how they could be together, the two now became people who—in the midst of making love their very life—played in leisure that forgot love. This might indeed be called true leisure. The two had taken on a form as though they slipped free from humanity and entered into nature.

From deep within the evening haze came the clamor of voices and the sound of striking objects. The villages and young leaves all blurred their hues hazily, and the cold lake surface lay silent, awaiting night. “It was fun, wasn’t it, Otoyo? Playing around in this kind of mood—it’s really been a long time.” “Truly, Shōsaku—I feel the same way. Tonight somehow makes me feel as though the world has grown wider.” “That’s right—until now, we’ve each been handling ourselves on our own. But now we’re not thinking about ourselves at all—just finding amusement in whatever’s interesting out there—crabs or what have you.” “Ah—the inn’s light is lit. Let’s hurry, Otoyo.”

Love was ultimately a foolish thing—given the slightest support, it would immediately wish to die; granted even a little satisfaction, it would promptly forget everything. Even those of prudence and insight could not escape foolish conduct once they fell into love.

That night, the two of them went to sleep simply happy and amused without discussing the future. By the time Ochiyo arrived the next morning, they had at least settled on Shōsaku first going to Tokyo alone and departing around mid-month. Otoyo had long been weighing whether to let Shōsaku go by himself or accompany him, but ultimately resolved that for the two to leave together would be socially improper.

Twelve

The man referred to as Hazure no Danna was Otoyo’s maternal cousin—a man named Azami. Being fond of meddling and skilled in conversation, he often mediated disputes. He was described as a cheerful, sensible man—short in stature with a round face and medium build. Ever since the Saitō proposal incident, hearing how Otoyo’s father had been raging uncontrollably in the Tsuchiya household, Azami had wanted to somehow intervene—but since Otoyo’s personal matters lacked public legitimacy, even relatives couldn’t make rash remarks about them. Yet once the true intentions of Shōsaku’s family were fully revealed, Ochiyo grew impatient and sent Sasuke to plead with Azami for assistance. Azami arrived promptly that evening. As they were relatives and close acquaintances, sake naturally became the first order of business. Azami was just the right drinking match for the master’s father; pressing down his second poured cup,

“Well now, I came today because I’ve got a bit of business to discuss, so I’d best say my piece before we get too deep in our cups. Mother—Mother, I need you here to listen too. Ochiyo, go fetch Mother for me.” Otoyo’s mother bowed in acknowledgment of the voiced concerns and took her seat there.

“Since this concerns your child, we can’t discuss it unless both of you are here.” Azami’s words were carefully planned. He implied his deeper aim—not to let the father struggle alone. “Now then, Mr. Tsuchiya—I heard the outline from Mr. Sasuke this morning—but what exactly do you plan to do about Otoyo?” “It’s nothing like that. Having an unfilial child has made me unable to face society—I’ve merely prolonged my scolding a little.” “No, Mr. Azami—I’ve left you with no face to show.”

“Mr. Tsuchiya—since you’re such a man of logic—Azami must argue logically tonight too.” “Personally, I detest logic—but facing a logician like you leaves me no choice.” “Mother, pour us drinks… I’ll stay till we settle this tonight—even if it means brawling—so let’s discuss it leisurely.”

Azami was thinking that the conversation with the stubborn old man Tsuchiya shouldn’t be rushed. “Mr. Tsuchiya, I simply can’t comprehend why you’d feel you’ve brought shame upon me. Why should rejecting the proposal with Saitō be considered shameful? I became the matchmaker at Saitō’s request—I truly wanted this arrangement to succeed. But if the person herself says she dislikes it, then that’s where it ends. There’s nothing strange about refusing—no shame or nonsense in that.”

“No, Azami—had we merely rejected Saitō, I’d never call it shameful.” “But when secret depravity triumphs over a proper parent’s designs—that’s where disgrace lies.” “As you know full well, that girl was no unfilial child until now—yet…”

“Please wait a moment.” “You toss around terms like ‘promiscuous’ and ‘unfilial’ so casually, but I still can’t make sense of that.” “How can you call Otoyo unfilial? She remains a filial daughter—it’s not just my opinion; everyone says so.” “The way I see it, you’re the one failing your child.” “How can someone who stubbornly defies their parent’s words at every turn not be unfilial?” “Assuming that a parent’s words are equivalent to your own—setting that as an unquestionable standard—that’s precisely where the great error begins.” “Even Confucius himself never declared that children must never oppose their parents under any circumstances.” “No matter how much you’re their parent, trying to control even their child’s very body according to your whims is absurd—let alone matters between men and women. These things can’t be forced by parental authority. It’s been nature’s law since the age of the gods, unchanged even now when people can shout conversations across a hundred *ri*.”

“What are you talking about? If it’s not lewdness, then it’s acceptable.” “Because she persists in lewdness while forcing her selfish whims—that’s what makes it utterly improper!” “You still spout such nonsense? How unworthy of a man who boasts logic—you’re just an obstinate old man.” “That’s exactly why people say you’re unfilial toward your child.” “Every living creature protects its young—yet you lack even the intention to shield your own!” “That isn’t true.” “Isn’t true? You’re doing it before our eyes!” “Not even attempting to see your child clearly—only fixating on flaws—forcing Otoyo into becoming some wanton creature through your stubborn notions—what malicious spite!”

This single remark left even the old man somewhat defeated. Though inwardly defeated, he was the sort of man who would sooner let his tongue rot than voice agreement. He seemed thoroughly cornered; his hand trembled faintly as he poured himself another drink alone. “Well, here’s one,” he said, offering the cup to Azami. “Now listen here, Mr. Tsuchiya—relationships between men and women are all lewd if you look at them that way. Whether they’re lewd or not lies entirely in one’s mindset.” “Superficial appearances don’t matter a damn—it’s those who haphazardly change their minds over trifles and waver back and forth who are the true masters of lewdness!” “Compared to that, someone like Otoyo has resolved herself for the person she’s chosen, devoting her affections to the utmost and even preparing to be disowned by her parents—I’ve actually told my wife about it, and we’re both quite impressed.”

“That’s a preposterous mistake.” The old man’s face, drenched in nose sweat, twisted into a pained smile. Otoyo’s mother also parted her lips slightly here. “Mr. Azami, our Otoyo is truly pitiful now.” “She keeps saying she wants to make amends with Father.” “Now, Mother—I hear the Kozue family insists they’ll secure Shōsaku’s future, so we should send him over there promptly and without fuss.” “Mother, you have no objections, do you?”

“Well… if only our household consents…” “Mr. Tsuchiya, please stop arguing logic and leave this to me.” “The young couple naturally have no objections—Mother doesn’t either. That leaves only you raising objections alone as the old man. That won’t do. Now hand this over cleanly.”

The old man poured himself another drink alone, then offered the cup to Azami. “Well, Mr. Tsuchiya… do you find something disagreeable about Shōsaku? There are those who speak ill of him, but viewed fairly—in this village of over a thousand households—there’s no young man as capable as Shōsaku. Others may have talent or education, but when it comes to capable young men who meet your approval, that one leaves nothing wanting. Even the Fukadas deeply regretted losing him—after Shōsaku left, they apparently had quite a dispute. The family head supposedly insisted they should look after him unconditionally. All of this—everything—is ultimately for Otoyo’s sake. Since Shōsaku wasn’t at Fukada either, her resolve to be disowned by her parents is by no means some frivolous dalliance. Why, even Saitō—when I met him recently—”

“I’m not angry at all—in fact, I’d had one person die on me and another leave me, so I’d been wanting a woman who’d come to me with such resolve. That’s why I truly admire Ms. Otoyo’s spirit.” “How about this? For parents these days to keep calling their own child shameful or lewd—there certainly are some truly merciless parents in this world.” “Now, Tsuchiya—don’t take this the wrong way.”

Azami, having said all he could, stared at the old man’s face. He smoked a cigarette. The old man did not utter a single word. “Well? Still won’t entrust this to me? We’ve exhausted all reasoning—let’s set logic aside. If you mean to disown a child defying parental rules, then let me take her in.” “Come now, Mr. Tsuchiya—speak up.” “Very well, Mr. Azami—since you press this far, I’ll yield it to you.” “I do yield it fully—but draft some proper rationale to save our parental dignity.”

“This is a real headache—I don’t know what kind of logic you’re after, but between true parent and child, let’s not dwell on such complications. Please, Mr. Tsuchiya—just hand it all over to me cleanly.” “If you want me to make Otoyo apologize, I’ll have her grovel however you like.” “Please, sir—have some mercy.” “What the hell do you know? Shut your trap.” Azami had long been simmering in the aggravation of this endless stalemate—a futility like hammering nails into stone—and now his patience erupted. The sake’s haze had burned away entirely, leaving only raw exasperation.

“Enough already, Mr. Tsuchiya—just say yes and be done with it!” “What exactly do you mean by ‘rationale’?” “A rationale is a rationale—all that matters is preserving the parent’s dignity.” “To completely crush a parent’s reasoning and let a child’s willfulness have its way...”

Azami’s face visibly transformed. The sound of tapping the ash tray rang out piercingly sharp. After leaning back for a while and looking down at the old man, “Hmph—you’re only concerned about saving your own face.” “What about my face? What do you intend to do with this Azami’s face?” “Do as you please! Mother, I’ve caused quite a disturbance.” Azami turned around and headed for the exit; Mother clung to him from behind, and Ochiyo too clung to him in tears. Otoyo was sobbing in the adjacent room. Azami briefly turned back,

“Before I go, I’ll say one last thing! To hell with relatives and their shitty obligations! Close ties? Worthless as a dried gourd! Spout your selfish nonsense all you want—after today, I’ll never set foot in this damned house again!”

Azami roughly pushed aside those restraining him and started to leave. “Mr. Azami, this won’t do—please don’t be angry. Regardless of Toyō’s situation, please compose yourself and return home.”

Ochiyo clung tightly and would not let go. Azami finally returned to his seat; the old man looked up at him, "You got awfully angry there."

“I ain’t come here to pick a fight neither, so let me go home proper-like.” Azami’s act had been masterful—the matter was finally settled. Otoyo would wait for Shōsaku for two years—if, after those two years, Shōsaku could not establish a household, then Otoyo would abide by her father’s will without protest. Onto the written agreement drafted by her father, Otoyo pressed her thumbprint seal, and the drinking recommenced. Suddenly, the household’s atmosphere transformed—as though festival and New Year had arrived all at once.

Thirteen Azami conceded everything, and the matter was settled without formalities. They could let the two marry and send Shōsaku to Tokyo, but since they wouldn't cohabitate anyway—and out of deference to Seiroku—it was decided they would hold the wedding banquet in Tokyo after Shōsaku established his own household. Sasuke visited Shōsaku's house one night too, laying bare his no-nonsense disposition as he drained two shō of sake with Shōsaku's brother and even danced with Ohama. The elder brother cherished Sasuke's vitality, their conversation flowing effortlessly.

“No matter how much your father fusses, he can’t keep you two apart. “If they won’t listen, we’ll just have to steal Ms. Otoyo away. “When it comes to big shots, swindling or stealing from ’em ain’t no crime anyway.” “Well, once the old man’s stubborn string snaps, everything goes smooth after that. “Lately it’s downright funny how easy I can talk with Otoyo now—ha ha ha ha!”

The sound of Sasuke’s booming "ha ha ha ha" laughter resonated deep in the ears. Shōsaku escorted the drunken Sasuke to Narutō around midnight.

Shōsaku generally stayed at the Tsuchiya house about ten days before his departure. After meeting Shōsaku just once, Otoyo’s father too became immensely fond of him. Of course, Otoyo too became unbearably dear. Because the change in their demeanor was so drastic, they were even laughed at by the household.

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Shōsaku boarded the train from Narutō, leaving behind his hometown’s summer—the season of silkworms at their peak before rice planting. From the Tsuchiya household came Otoyo’s father and Otoyo herself. From Kozue arrived Shōsaku’s mother with her two grandchildren in tow, and Ohama too appeared carrying a furoshiki-wrapped bundle to bid him farewell. Though Otoyo had naturally planned to accompany him all the way to Chiba for his send-off, when the train began moving, Ohama—having evidently bought a ticket beforehand—desperately clambered aboard. As the train passed Hyūga Station and approached Yachimata, Ohama started weeping uncontrollably, her sobs spilling forth without restraint. This left both Shōsaku and Otoyo utterly helpless. Even had someone demanded why she cried so bitterly, no answer could have been given. Yet it must be noted that on the eve of his departure, Ohama had entered Shōsaku’s parlor wearing an expression of fierce resolve—

“If... if you’re going to Tokyo... please... take me with you.”

That was what she had said. Shōsaku casually replied, “Alright—wait until I’ve made something of myself. Once I do, I’ll take you with me for sure.” Ohama withdrew just like that, though it seemed she had already been crying then too. Shōsaku had indeed noticed something in Ohama’s manner, but since there was nothing to be done about it, he had kept silent even to Otoyo and let matters lie—only for this tragedy to play out today, when the decisive moment arrived.

“This is too embarrassing in front of others—Ohama-san, please be a little quieter.”

Having been firmly told by Otoyo, Ohama pressed both sleeves to her mouth, desperately trying to stifle her voice. The heartrending sobs she couldn’t fully stifle—their very faintness only deepened the sorrow. Shōsaku felt more pity than blame for her clumsiness. Though Otoyo’s heart held some doubt and she did not immediately sympathize with Ohama, she could not help but be moved by the truly sorrowful sound of Ohama’s weeping. Because there was no other way, they got off at Sakura.

The three of them rented a room in a secluded inn and decided to rest until the next train departure. Ohama prostrated herself before the two of them and apologized earnestly. “I never meant to do such a thing—I acted so clumsily without thinking, and I’m truly sorry.” “Ms. Otoyo, please don’t take this to heart.”

Such was the case—Ohama had been part of Shōsaku’s household since the spring of her thirteenth year, a familiar presence for four full years, living innocently with them day and night without reserve. Though Ohama knew it was a hopeless matter, she had, without even realizing it herself, come to think of Shōsaku. However, even as she waited on Otoyo as if she were her own sister, Ohama had never harbored any concrete intentions toward Shōsaku. It was simply that, overwhelmed by the sudden sorrow of parting, she had unwittingly acted so clumsily.

Shōsaku, inherently kind-hearted, found Ohama’s true feelings so pitiful he couldn’t bear it. Yet for him to be subjected to Otoyo’s improper suspicions was just as painful. “Ms. Otoyo, please don’t doubt her—I swear by heaven, Ohama has done nothing wrong.” “Though she caused this trivial trouble, I feel unbearably sorry for her.” “Even after I’m gone, never hold it against her—please keep watching over Ohama as you always have.”

Otoyo was already holding Ohama and crying. This was Ohama—the same Ohama who had once clung to her like a lifeline when her own thread of life had nearly snapped in sorrow. Had it been any other matter, she would have torn off a piece of herself to comfort Ohama. The depth of Otoyo’s sorrow—now that she understood the root of Ohama’s grief—defied even the most skilled novelist’s pen. The three boarded the train again. Shōsaku suddenly thought of something he wanted to give Ohama. “Ms. Otoyo, I want to give Ohama something—what would be good?”

“Well… Ah, right! Give her your watch.” “Ah, right—if I’m going to Tokyo, I won’t need a watch. This one’s small, so it’ll suit a woman well.” The station worker called out, “Chiba, Chiba.” The two of them panicked all the more. Shōsaku stiffened, “We have to get off here.”