Pathway to Japanese Literature

It was the third day since the bride's belongings had been carried back from the neighboring house. Shōsaku had left the household where he'd been adopted and lumbered homeward. Not even three months and ten days had passed since the wedding. Perhaps burdened by vague guilt, Shōsaku passed through his family gate wearing a clouded expression. The others had apparently gone to clear mountain underbrush, leaving Mother alone to mind the large house. On the sunlit rear engawa, she worked diligently at her unraveling task without nodding off. Shōsaku avoided the formal entrance, circling instead through the inner garden straight to where Mother sat on the veranda edge.

“Mother, I’ve been driven out.” Shōsaku said with a laugh and stepped up onto the engawa. Mother set down what was in her hand and gazed at Shōsaku’s face through her glasses, “Well, I never…” The startled mother seemed unable to form another word. Shōsaku, on the contrary, had actually perked up upon meeting his mother. Judging by this, it seemed Shōsaku had endured no small amount of anguish before leaving. “Mother, where are my clothes? My clothes?”

Shōsaku remained standing and paced restlessly around the tatami room. “I’ll look through them now,” she said through pursed lips, “but didn’t you bring any spare clothes at all?” “Well, can a man really go around carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle like that?” “What a mess...”

Shōsaku threw on the clothes he’d been given, wrapped the soft sash haphazardly around himself, and collapsed right there. Mother hung the clothes Shōsaku had taken off on the clothes pole. “Mother, why don’t you make some tea?” “What a mess—should’ve bought some sweets.” “You ain’t got time for tea.”

As she said this, Mother sat down near Shōsaku. "You best start talkin' proper—how'd you come t'be out here?" "Grinning like some fool—this ain't no laughin' matter t'you?"

Being scolded by Mother, Shōsaku could no longer remain lying down. "I'm real sorry for worryin' you, Mother, but there's just nothin' I can do about it." "They kept makin' all these annoyin' sarcastic remarks and fussin' over every little thing to scold me about." "Lately even that one's been actin' unpleasant sometimes." "I've just gotten so fed up."

“What a mess... Who’s really at fault here?” “Does Otsune have somethin’ to say too?” “It’s the mother. The mother’s the one who says such awful things.” “That Otsune doesn’t say anything outright, but lately she’s been acting disrespectful.” “Mother, I can’t take this anymore, no matter what.” “Even I’ve been worrying in secret.” “When you say they said terrible things, what exactly did they say?” “And the father doesn’t look upset at all?”

“What kind of things? Just ridiculous nonsense.” “As for Father, he hasn’t been particularly bad either.” “Hmm, in that case—this terrible business here—is it about Otoyo-san? Hmm.” “Oh…” “You’re truly a hopeless case.” “The truth is, you’re the one at fault here.” “So it’s completely gotten out then.” “This old woman ain’t been worried about nothin’ but that.” “It was bound to come out sooner or later, but I’d hoped if it came out after things had settled a bit, we coulda managed somehow—now that it’s out like this, no wonder they’re gettin’ fed up over there.”

After saying this, Mother closed her mouth for a time and sighed while thinking deeply. Gazing fixedly at Shōsaku, who wore a carefree smile, her aged eyes overflowed with pained emotion. Before long, again overwhelmed with emotion, "You sit there with that carefree face and don't know this old woman's worries?" Being told this, Shōsaku suddenly corrected his posture. And then, "Mother, I'm not being nearly as carefree as you think. "I'm sorry for making you old folks worry like this, but truth be told, Mother, even if they let me stay in that house, I just can't stand it from my side. "No matter what they might say—if I had the will to stay and be a bit more careful, it wouldn't be an issue—but somehow, I just ended up getting fed up on my end. "That's why I'm saying you shouldn't worry, Mother."

This was the present truth of Shōsaku’s heart, but he believed these words might somewhat appease his mother’s worries. Yet hearing this only made Mother’s expression grow sterner. Her aged eyes glistened with tears. She edged closer to Shōsaku, “Shōsaku—is that truly so?” “Then you’re being downright willful.” “This old woman thought you’d struggle staying there if Fukada learned about that matter—but by your telling, you’re the one who grew weary of it.” “What exactly makes Fukada unbearable? Which part of that household displeases you?” “You’ve known Otsune-san from the start—she’s no reason to be disagreeable.” “At your age, claiming weariness without cause—that’s pure willfulness.” “At least try thinking!”

Shōsaku remained silent, bowing his head. Shōsaku had grown truly weary of everything without reason—this was fact—yet there existed no clear point he could consciously identify as “this” or “that.” There was no particular aspect of the Fukada household that he disliked. In the end, because Otoyo had seeped so deeply into Shōsaku’s mind—so profoundly—he found himself unmotivated toward Fukada without cause. Moreover, now that matters between Otoyo and the neighbors had been settled—now that Otoyo had truly become someone unrelated to others—everything seemed utterly trivial to Shōsaku; as if struck by sudden inspiration, he grew disgusted with remaining at Fukada. Yet because he couldn’t tell Mother this directly, when pressed by her, he couldn’t respond effectively. Of course, the tongue-tied Shōsaku couldn’t muster any ready replies—so he kept silent. Though Mother knew full well that Shōsaku’s restlessness stemmed from Otoyo, she deliberately avoided addressing this and instead took an indirect approach. Convinced that if only Shōsaku grew close to Otsune he would naturally forget Otoyo, Mother wanted simply to keep him at Fukada’s household.

“As you well know, Fukada’s standing is far better than our household’s—they’re an established family through and through, and Otsune-san herself isn’t she a girl well above ordinary?” “There’s talk the mother’s particular-minded right enough, but this match came by her own begging through taking such a fancy to you—so stay you must with no two ways about it.” “Folk all keep saying ‘Happy Shōsaku-san! Lucky Shōsaku-san!’ over at Fukada—what lack could turn your heart against it?” “Selfishness has its bounds—not knowing a parent’s trials...” “Stay put at Fukada and happiness follows sure as tide.” “Then even this old crone might find peace at last.” “What manner of fit takes you? How long mean you to weigh down these bent shoulders?”

Mother steeled herself and pinched her nose. Shōsaku had，from childhood，caused Mother considerable trouble. During times when Shōsaku suffered prolonged eye troubles，Mother would worry so much that she even made vows to Fudō Myōō，abstaining from salty foods. Especially since Mother was left alone after his father’s passing，Shōsaku had become exceedingly weak-willed when it came to her. Not only that，but Shōsaku was by nature not the type to strongly assert himself. When pressed by Mother like this，he was the sort of man who would start to wonder if perhaps he was being somewhat unreasonable.

“I’m sorry for making you go through nothing but hardship, Mother.” “It may indeed be my selfishness, but Mother—my happiness or unhappiness has nothing to do with whether I’m at Fukada or not, does it?” “Even if I stay in that household—if I don’t find it bearable—I’ll still be unhappy, you see.” “And even if I left that place—if I could find some way to live contentedly elsewhere—wouldn’t my happiness stay just the same?” “Still—if staying at that house alone would bring me happiness and let you rest easy—then maybe I’d reconsider... But now that things have come to this—what else can be done?”

Mother gave Shōsaku a slightly sharp look, “What sort of ‘plan’ do you have for living joyfully elsewhere?” “Don’t you go misunderstanding things now.” “If you just stay in Fukada, there’d be no need for any worries at all, right?” “Isn’t thinking something’s unbearable just a matter of how you take it in your mind?” “So what exactly did you say to get out of there today?” “I didn’t say anything difficult.” “I merely told them I had something to bring from home and came here.”

“I see. Then there shouldn’t be any problem, should there?” “I thought there’d been words exchanged again—what with you sayin’ they drove you out and came back here.” “If that’s all, there’s no problem—go back tonight.” “If only you’d set your heart right, there’d surely be no problem over there.” “Shōsaku, you know full well that your comin’ back now will cause trouble all around, don’t you?”

Shōsaku remained silent again. Mother also remained silent for a while. Shōsaku finally began haltingly, “If you insist that much, Mother, I’ll try returning tomorrow after all—but since my mind had grown strange somehow, filled with this unbearable feeling, which likely caused some awkwardness over there already... Even if I renew my resolve, unless they mend their attitude too, there’ll be no way through this.” “That’s—you—there’s no such thing. “After all, you were the one they earnestly wanted there—if you just set your mind to it, there’s nothing to it.”

The discussion had been quite lengthy but ultimately ended in an inconclusive stalemate. Though the time had come to shift focus to Otoyo’s story, the sunlight was already skirting the edge of the engawa veranda when someone abruptly rattled open the front shoji screen with a clatter, sending two children tumbling into the back room.

“Grandma, we’re home!” “Grandma, we’re home!” With ink-smeared faces and hands, eight-year-old Jūzō and seven-year-old Matsusaburō bowed in unison. The two threw off their hats as they stood, “Grandma, give us a penny!” “Grandma, me too!” The two rubbed their shoulders against Grandma and pleaded.

“Alright, Uncle will buy you sweets today—you two go get them—and I’ll give you half.”

The two children, clutching the coins, rushed out to the front. Shōsaku got up to make some tea.

Two

The next morning, Shōsaku returned to Fukada at any rate. He returned, but it was futile. About five days later, Shōsaku returned again. This time, intending it to be the last, he left Fukada’s house early in the morning before anyone was about.

Mother had gone through the trouble of telling him off and sending him back but had been apprehensive from the start; when she saw him come out again, she resigned herself and did not even give him much of a scolding. The elder brother merely,

“What a hopeless fellow.”

After uttering just this single remark, he carried on as always with his nightly rope-twisting and daytime labors of clearing underbrush and preparing compost, never once glancing away from his tasks. The sister-in-law, who had taken great pride in having married off her younger brother to the Fukada household, was bitterly regretting Shōsaku’s recklessness. “Shōsaku, how could you possibly not stay in that household?” There was no telling how many times she had repeated this.

It was the second month of the lunar calendar—the most idle time of year in the countryside. The talk of Shōsaku's divorce thrived everywhere among those with a taste for scandal. Rumors that so-and-so had settled into some fine position and lived in great fortune never lasted long. Yet when it came to a pitiable divorce, many people would gossip about it with such apparent relish, as though taking keen pleasure in the matter. Because those who had been far too happy now wore smug expressions they resented, they spoke as though they'd stumbled upon a truly entertaining tale. This was the story from that night when blind minstrels had been lodged at the village sake shop. After the blind minstrels' songs ended, the gathering became consumed by talk of Shōsaku.

“Shōsaku’s fundamentally at fault here. “Not cutting ties with one woman while becoming someone’s son-in-law—that’s pure immorality! An absolute disgrace.” “Put yourselves in their place—could any family endure such treatment?” Those voicing this were Fukada’s staunch supporters. “That’s not how it was! When Shōsaku resolved to marry into their family, he’d surely given up on Otoyo already.” “First off—wasn’t Otoyo still with Seiroku back when Shōsaku became their son-in-law?” “Since Fukada themselves had begged him to join them—if they’d just ignored those old rumors and treated him right—he’d never have left their household.” “That’s why Fukada’s to blame here.” “There’s nothing immoral about Shōsaku whatsoever.”

This was the argument of those showing minor favoritism.

“There’s no good or bad here—it’s simply that there was no fate between them.” “Even Shōsaku—his circumstances were good, and he didn’t dislike Otsune-san—so it’s not like he didn’t want to stay. Since they’d earnestly sought him out over there in the first place, of course they wanted to keep him. But when it reached the point where they couldn’t keep him anymore, then there’s just no fate between them.” The one who said this was the sake shop mistress they called Granny. “It’s all Shō-san’s fault—I truly detest him.” “Shō-san is such a fine man that Otoyo-san simply can’t let him go. If Otoyo-san won’t give up, then Shō-san can’t possibly stay at Fukada’s.” “Fukada’s mother deeply resents Otoyo-san, I tell you.” “Otsune-san also wanted to keep Shō-san, you know—that’s why they say she stayed in bed for three days after he left.” “I truly feel sorry for Otsune-san—I really detest Shō-san.”

This was a voice from the women’s side. “What nonsense—praising one moment and tearing down the next! Poor thing—completely out of reach.” “I truly detest Shō-san—what a muddle he’s made of things.”

"Don't speak so harshly! Ohama-san has her own sorrows too—fellow sufferers pitying each other—isn't that how it goes? Hahahaha!" "That damn bastard—I'd really like to beat him senseless." "Who?"

“That bastard.” “That bastard makes no sense.” “He’s gotten downright vulgar, I tell ya. Quit it!”

Because Ohama was there, the malicious gossip stopped at this level. If even Ohama hadn’t been present, it wouldn’t have been limited to just this level. Speaking ill of Shōsaku would earn Ohama’s dislike, and since no one wanted her to think poorly of them, the talk fizzled out. Seikō’s bluster was in its final throes.

“I’ve been a son-in-law myself, and as the old saying goes, sons-in-law ain’t worth a damn.” “Besides, Shōsaku here’s got his Otoyo-san—not that we’d want Seiroku hearing this—but what’s a hundred-bale dowry? So what if Fukada’s got fields yielding a hundred bales?” “They couldn’t even make pocket money for one son-in-law—and even if you strapped a hundred-bale dowry to Otsune-san, she still wouldn’t balance against Otoyo-san’s whole being on the scales.” “If you ask whether he’d want ten thousand yen or Otoyo-san—hell—I wouldn’t think twice…”

“What’s this—you want Otoyo-san? Should I go tell my wife? Hahaha!”

And so the talk came to an end.

Ohama returned and recounted everything to Shōsaku in detail. Given these circumstances, Shōsaku withdrew to the back rooms and would not go outside except at night. It was also rather uncomfortable with the neighbors. Though only Ohama was sympathizing more earnestly than ever before—since the Fukada family was well-off—despite having invested considerable expenses in preparations and the wedding, he could not stay until April and had left. As this outcome stemmed from his own actions like rust from a blade, he felt all the more self-conscious around his elder brother and sister-in-law. Not only he himself, but even his mother felt constrained in their presence. Given that Shōsaku was ordinarily so good-natured, his elder brother and sister-in-law did not treat him particularly harshly; nevertheless, Shōsaku himself had shrunk back meekly. Even the lumbering fellow could no longer lumber about as before. Shōsaku too had finally begun to taste life’s hardships.

On the Fukada side too, there had been discussions about sending relatives once more to retrieve him, swayed by their daughter’s unexpected lingering attachment; however, the matriarch declared it utterly impossible, and thus the matter was finally settled as a formal separation.

Kazusa saw spring arrive early. Plum blossoms bloomed in full splendor both where people gazed and where they did not. Rapeseed flowers were beginning to open, the verdant wheat starting to thicken—these days of unbroken fair weather brought nothing but serene days. Villages divided by forests, fields divided by hues—everything lay enveloped in a faint haze that permeated the air, all unified under a single sensation of spring.

The distant sound of Kujūkuri’s waves, ceaseless from night to day, conveyed its steady, gentle resonance through the haze below. The waves of Kujūkuri always roared; it was only their springtime resonance that stirred people. Those who grew up in villages throughout the Kujūkuri vicinity immediately perceived this wave sound as the voice of spring. There existed the expression “autumn’s voice,” but in the lands around Kujūkuri, there was no autumn’s voice—only the sound of spring. What seemed to gently, ceaselessly soothe people’s hearts was this spring sound of Kujūkuri. The people of Kazusa and Shimousa, who had been soothed by this spring sound since time immemorial, lacked almost any somber nature. Those who knew not autumn’s voice could possess no somber disposition. The essence of the Ryōsō people—who knew not autumn’s voice but only spring’s sound—was explained by the words “gentle benevolence.”

Shōsaku was that very gentle young man. However one looked at it, hating Shōsaku could only be considered the fault of the one who hated. Shōsaku was, after all, a person of spring. Even in circumstances of shame and anxiety, there remained an unhurried elegance that did not press upon him. Even when Shōsaku wept, it was the gloom of spring rain, not the cold showers of winter.

When Shōsaku left the Fukada household after being told unpleasant things, he returned home swaggering with an air of nonchalance; yet upon arriving home, his family told him he was entirely at fault, while society sneered at him with unexpected derision, spreading rumors that he had been driven out of Fukada’s home due to his own failings. Before he knew it, he himself had come to feel as though he’d committed some strange blunder. Timidly, feelings of shame arose within him, making it unbearable to face society. Though there was neither despair nor melancholy in Shōsaku’s heart, those around him treated him as though such emotions swirled in dark clouds, and thus he found himself distanced from society. And so, unwittingly, he remained like a shadowed figure, not leaving the inner room for seven or eight days. His family didn’t fully understand Shōsaku’s heart, but they refrained from urging him to work and let him be as he pleased.

During this time Ohama commuted between households with troubles weighing on her small heart, relaying messages between them. Shōsaku read two lengthy letters whose heartfelt yet lucid words from Otoyo touched his very core. Like withered plants reviving through water’s nourishment he felt new vitality coursing through his veins—an assurance that life itself had solidified within him. "There’s no blunder nor trifle here. No matter what people say... Our happiness we’ll forge ourselves—our happiness we’ll forge ourselves. It needs no others’ tending."

While muttering these words to himself, Shōsaku became overwhelmed with emotion and rose to pace restlessly around the room. Shōsaku had now cleared all lingering obstructions from his heart, his resolve settling completely. Once his resolve had settled, vitality naturally stirred within him.

The next morning, Shōsaku woke up early without being roused. “Mother—the work clothes?”

Mother bellowed.

“Well, Shōsaku—you’re up?” “Ah, Mother, I’m going to work now.”

“Well then, go on and do that.” “When you kept yourself shut away with that gloomy face, it felt like this old woman’s lifespan was shrinking.”

At the mirror-paneled sliding door dividing the rooms, stomping footsteps rang out as his elder brother in work clothes arrived.

“So you’re up, Shōsaku? Cut it out with the mole act already. Today we’re cleaning out the seedling beds—lend a hand. Quit your moping—act like a man.” Before his elder brother’s words had finished, Shōsaku jumped barefoot into the garden. When the spring equinox came, they soaked the rice seeds in the seedbed pond. Before soaking the seeds, they always had to draw out all the water from the seedbed pond and clean it. This had practically become a local custom, one of the annual events here. When February arrived, they would select an auspicious day to clean the seedbed ponds. That night, it was customary to prepare something simple like tea rice and buy a sho of sake.

Today was unusual—with Ohama, Mitsuzō, Elder Brother, and all four of them working in full attendance—so the entire household worked cheerfully. That evening, his elder brother drank more sake than usual. “Shōsaku, have a drink tonight.” “Even someone like me sympathizes with you, y’know? Listen—people mustn’t lose their spirit no matter what happens. Everything human comes down to spirit.”

“Brother, with this, even I have spirit now.” “Ahahahaha! Is that so? Alright, pour me a drink.”

Shōsaku’s usual calm face was filled with vitality today. He exchanged cups with his elder brother two or three times, his face filled with an unclouded smile. The elder brother was staring at Shōsaku’s face, but suddenly,

“Shōsaku—make up your mind to be with Otoyo-san.” Shōsaku froze at this unexpected declaration from his elder brother’s lips. Sasuke pressed on, “Since I’m saying this, I’ll shoulder the burden too. Who cares what folks gabble about? Let ’em chew their cud!” “Mother’s dead against it—whining about neighborly airs and shame toward Fukada—but that’s just stubbing toes on invisible thresholds.” “Even if you became some rich house’s adopted son—richer than Fukada’s lot—would coin clinking in vaults buy your joy?” “Enough! Quit this mooncalf notion of playing bridegroom.” “Ohama dear! Fetch another flask!”

Ohama laughed as she brought out the sake flask; on her way back, she gave Shōsaku’s shoulder a discreet pinch. “Well now, think it through—Otoyo-san isn’t some woman you can trade for a bit of wealth.” “Right—this can only move forward once we’ve heard Otoyo-san’s mind on the matter.” “I’ll leave it here for tonight.” “Just make sure you think it through proper—and quick.”

Contrary to his appearance, his elder brother was a perceptive man. His elder brother felt deep compassion for the still youthful Shōsaku’s current circumstances of social failure. While largely inferring Shōsaku's state of mind, his elder brother took the initiative to give his younger brother encouragement. In his heart, Shōsaku gratefully acknowledged his brother’s kindness. Shōsaku had never imagined until now that his elder brother was such a perceptive person with such resolute decisiveness. Shōsaku was now unbearably happy. At the very moment he had steeled his resolve in his heart against whatever anyone might say, his elder brother had said exactly what he himself wished to hear—it was only natural he felt overjoyed. Shōsaku was putting all his effort into feigning composure, yet Ohama still gave him a peculiar smile. Shōsaku had made a promise through yesterday’s letter to go behind Otoyo’s house at nine tonight.

III

The notion of women's willpower has been discussed since ancient times, but it cannot be said that such things are entirely without merit.

Otoyo, after thoroughly considering her and Shōsaku's shared circumstances, ultimately resigned herself to their inevitable fate. She let Shōsaku go to become Fukada's adopted son, and when the moment of final parting came, let her tears fall onto his hands, “Now that we’ve resigned ourselves and parted, please cast me from your thoughts and live long in marital harmony with Otsune-san.” “After I leave Seiroku’s household—what arrangements I will make—I shall inform you of that when the time comes.” “Oh no, that’s not… There’s no need to mention that now that we’ve parted.”

Though they had parted with noble words, that was not the true heart of mere humans. Compelled by unavoidable circumstances, they were merely superficial words forced from their lips. Otoyo became single, and Shōsaku took a wife. Even if one spoke words of resignation, the heart would not obey those words. It was only natural that it did not. If it had been a fleeting affair, one might have remained unaware—but a bond forged from the depths of the heart could not be abandoned through mere reason. If one could abandon it so easily, then it was never love.

Otoyo was a strong-willed person. With strong will, she suppressed her own feelings. No matter how much she suppressed them, it remained mere suppression—her feelings never disappeared. Rather, through suppression, her feelings only deepened further. The affection born of her unwavering devotion to Shōsaku might grow deeper but would never diminish. To have parted through discussion, to have resigned herself and let him take a wife—yet still to think of that man defied all reason. Even if it made no logical sense, that was simply how humans were—it was only natural. Otoyo herself writhed in her heart, determined not to think of him again—not to think of him again—but no matter how she struggled, it proved futile.

“Oh... There’s just no helping it. What should I do? Really... there’s no way.”

Day after day, night after night, she would sigh and murmur those words whenever alone. Yet to outside eyes, Otoyo vigorously engaged in casual conversation with people both within and beyond the household. When others laughed, she laughed with them. She betrayed almost no outward sign of the cares weighing on her heart. During neighborhood visits, even when Shōsaku’s name chanced to surface in talk, Otoyo’s countenance remained utterly unchanged. If anything, it was Otoyo-san who heard muttered criticisms like “How coldhearted she is.” Thus before two months had passed since Otoyo returned home, the rumors connecting her to Shōsaku disappeared unnoticed.

While holding back helpless feelings in her heart, Otoyo—who had disciplined herself all the more because of that—was admirable, but to an observer’s eye, this was not entirely imperceptible. Her once-flaming crimson complexion finally began to lose its vivid redness. The white parts lost their luster and took on a slightly bluish tinge. Her taut face grew ever tauter; her eyes took on an indefinable cloudiness. If one could not recognize this as the anguish of a troubled heart, then one could not speak of love.

Moreover, Otoyo was an amiable person who laughed readily with whomever she spoke. She laughed readily, but that was not a true laugh. Only when Ohama visited did she show a truly happy smile. The reason for this was clear without needing to ask. Thus, when Ohama left, Otoyo would sometimes shed tears. Yet even when she had Ohama to herself, she did not speak solely of Shōsaku. She rather avoided speaking about Shōsaku. Whenever the conversation turned even slightly personal, she would immediately say, "That's enough." She never directly expressed her own feelings. She made no attempt to learn Shōsaku’s feelings either. Yet when it came to Shōsaku, she became hypersensitive beyond reason to even the smallest details. Whenever she heard rumors—that the Fukada household was wealthy, that Shōsaku had gained their favor, that he worked vigorously for them, that he seldom returned to his own home—no matter how many times she heard these same reports, she would become unable to remain in others’ presence and invariably make some excuse to retire to bed. Since it concerned Otoyo, she naturally did nothing that would draw others’ attention. And so, it could be perceived that the very act of exerting willpower in such matters only deepened Otoyo’s suffering. As someone with a strong-willed woman’s inherent trait, Otoyo took extreme care to ensure society would not say Shōsaku was absent from Fukada’s household because she had spoken of this and that. Thus, despite having Ohama—with whom she shared an unusually sisterly closeness—after their separation, they had never once exchanged mutual feelings of longing.

Though Otoyo appeared remarkably calm on the surface, in her heart there was not a single minute free from struggles over Shōsaku. Such a profoundly deep and powerful telepathic force—how could it not reach Shōsaku? Shōsaku was a man who did nothing with haste. He took considerable effort to express his will, whether through words or actions. Even when thoughts arose, he was not one to immediately share them with others. Therefore, though he had given much thought to matters concerning Otoyo, he had not spoken of them even to Ohama. Contrary to simpler times past, he now had a wife while his former lover remained unmarried and seemed to observe his circumstances attentively—a position far too complex for young Shōsaku. It was not that his senses had dulled, but rather that their workings seemed to flounder in disarray. Shōsaku felt as though his body were suspended mid-air. At such times, he inevitably became acutely aware of other powerful forces. That Otoyo’s telepathic power had come to influence Shōsaku through such minute pathways stood to reason.

“Otoyo-san gets so happy when I visit—every single time. When there’s no one around, she ends up hugging me. And then when I leave, sometimes she even sheds tears.”

Just from hearing these words from Ohama, Shōsaku felt agitation coursing through every nerve in his body. By this time, Shōsaku had already ceased to be Fukada's son-in-law, and being the same Shōsaku as ever, he could not abruptly manifest this in his actions—yet he had entered an inclined chute where he could no longer restrain his own momentum.

If things were going to turn out like this, Otoyo should have left Seiroku’s household sooner with the intention of being with Shōsaku. Had that been done, Shōsaku would not have needed to become someone’s adopted son, and the innocent girl Otsune could have been spared her tears. That this obvious matter should not be allowed—such was the nature of present-day society. Society did surprisingly foolish things. Though itself had been utterly tormented by those constraints, it still continued to bind others.

IV

At the Tsuchiya household, they had been greatly relieved when the rumors about Otoyo and Shōsaku had somehow faded away, but now that Shōsaku had been divorced from Fukada—with people saying this too stemmed from his relationship with Otoyo—the talk of the two had once again become the topic of conversation throughout neighboring villages, leaving the whole family exchanging looks of dismay. Otoyo’s father, being a man particular about his reputation, had lately been wearing a face like he’d swallowed a bitter pill from morning onward. To Otoyo’s mother, he roared that from now on she must not let that Ohama woman anywhere near them.

Otoyo feigned composure by pretending not to see or hear those matters, but her inner turmoil was far from ordinary. The night she first learned Shōsaku had finally left Fukada's household, she had scarcely slept. Prudent Otoyo had already reached her resolution. I simply cannot give up Shō-san. Though I knew I couldn't abandon this feeling, having been forced into circumstances where attempting to do so proved futile—now there was no path left but to hold fast. Now was the moment of decision. If I didn't steel myself here, who knew what fresh calamity might arise? I've grasped Shō-san's heart well enough—even without him being at Fukada's, his feelings stand clear. Otoyo smiled faintly to herself and, having firmly settled her own course, sent a letter to Shōsaku.

Shōsaku naturally had no objections; the response was straightforward.

I couldn't remain at Fukada's because of Otoyo-san. That I came back to life after returning home was also because of Otoyo-san. Not even a hair's breadth of hesitation remains in me now. I entrust my entire life to Otoyo-san.

If in such circumstances they could pass their days through mere exchange of intentions, then those exchanged words would undoubtedly be false. When a suppressed fire reignites, its force typically doubles what it was before.

There exists a poem by someone who yearns to die when Kisaragi’s full moon reigns. This was the evening of the eleventh—a late hour when the moon hung faint in the sky. Otoyo was doing laundry under the eaves of the storehouse in her home’s backyard.

As for why one would do laundry so late at night—the bathwater runoff somehow made stains come out better, saving both the trouble of heating fresh water and conserving firewood—this was common practice among frugal country households. That night, with ulterior motives, Otoyo had prepared the bath herself and used the laundry as her excuse to wait for Shōsaku.

The general layout of Otoyo’s house followed a structure built with its northern side facing forward toward the prefectural road. The southern backyard spread wide, with storage sheds and plank warehouses extending lengthwise from the main house across a long narrow plot shaped like a poetry slip. At the farthest end of the yard stood a low hedge of coral trees, midway along which hung a token wicker gate. Beyond this gate lay a three-foot-wide stream spanned by a single-plank bridge that opened onto expansive rice fields. To either side, neighboring houses revealed their thatched roofs nestled among oak groves. By nine o'clock, few remained awake—a night so still and serene that even the moon seemed hushed as it slanted above the neighboring woods, its light illuminating only the upper eaves of storehouses and sheds. The plum tree pressing thick against the storehouse eaves had only its highest branches silvered by moonlight.

Otoyo was now doing laundry under the storehouse eaves at the base of the plum tree. Under the faintly glowing plum tree, a woman with a pale face moved her two white hands, creating soft splashes as she did the laundry. The plum blossoms had passed their prime, yet their fragrance now seemed at its peak. As those pale hands moved, sending wafts of plum scent with each motion, this heart-fluttering scene—when perceived through my lover’s eyes—stirred emotions no outsider could ever fathom.

Otoyo, now believing the awaited person's appointed time had come, would frequently pause her laundry work to keep watch beyond the wicker gate. Since the laundry sounds would surely carry outside, there was no reason for Shōsaku to hesitate once he had come that far. When she strained her ears to catch even the faintest approaching footsteps, the night had deepened into profound stillness. The night watchman's clappers sounded from the main street. Distant barks echoed from what seemed a neighboring village. Otoyo had nearly ceased her laundry work altogether and turned her attention toward the main house. On the main house side, even the building itself seemed asleep in utter stillness. Otoyo could no longer focus on washing. She rose and paced restlessly. Having observed the moon's position - had she noticed the plum blossoms' fragrance?

"Oh, this fragrance..." She murmured softly and peered beyond the wicker gate. Outside lay utter silence—no rustle of grass beneath feet. Otoyo heard even the pounding within her own chest. Kujūkuri’s distant waves kept their ceaseless rhythm—boom-boom-boom-boom—shaking slumbering villagers through this hushed night. At last her composure faltered; a sigh escaped unbidden.

“Otoyo-san.”

A voice—faint yet unmistakably his—reached her ears. Simultaneously, the wicker gate gave way. Shōsaku shuddered violently as sudden chills racked his body. Otoyo shivered in perfect unison with him. We leave interpretation of these charged moments to those versed in lovers’ codes. “So cold,” she whispered through chattering teeth. “You waited,” he murmured tenderly.

Otoyo quietly locked the wicker gate and, weaving through the shadows, guided her lover to the prepared spot.

Three months had now passed since Otoyo and Shōsaku parted ways. Three months could be considered both long and short—had one spent them in sorrow, suffering, and anxiety, even those scant hundred days would surely feel interminably long. For these two, these three months—even in an ever-changing world—were an extraordinary span of time, rare by any measure.

It was three months during which these two—who had once united body and soul—existed as complete strangers, resolved to remain so indefinitely yet unable to relinquish each other. If I willed it with my heart alone, I could surely end my life. My love could never be killed by my heart alone. It was three months during which they struggled to forcibly destroy a love their own hearts could not extinguish—and ultimately failed. Yet even as those three months felt endless, their count remained finite. The chasm between another's husband and my own husband defied all measure. She who had endured making her mutual lover another's husband while watching nearby—who now met spring's grace, received new life, and came to renew their plum-blossomed moonlight vow—this was Otoyo's night. This surpassed mere overwhelming tears.

Otoyo could do nothing but weep. She clung to her lover’s lap and wept and wept and wept. Otoyo pressed her head against Shōsaku’s lap, Shōsaku pressed his against Otoyo’s shoulder, and they wept in each other’s arms for over an hour.

There was naturally no light in such circumstances. Even if they raised their heads, they could not see each other’s faces; they could only hold each other’s hands. “Shō-san, I’m happy.” Finally managing to utter a single word, Otoyo collapsed into tears once more. “Shō-san, I’ll write to you properly later, so please let me cry as I need to tonight.”

Otoyo choked back her words incoherently. Shōsaku ultimately could not utter a single word. It must have been the sensation of narrowly escaping tragic misery—so sorrowful and agonizing that the thread of life nearly snapped—and encountering a beloved person in a place of fragile safety. When boundless joy filled one’s breast with equal measure to the fierce contrast it created with past miseries, and when sorrow and delight mingled until emotions reached their peak intensity—who could do anything but weep? A love that speaks of fulfilled mutual affection or obtained romantic satisfaction is inherently shallow in nature. Those unacquainted with love’s sorrow cannot speak of its essence.

For the two who wept and wept and clung to each other as they parted, there was also a joy beyond expression that they were able to share.

V

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

“Though we need not discuss feelings already thoroughly known between us, somehow I find myself unable to help longing to see your letter soonest—even when I take up my pen intending to express my own thoughts without delay, I cannot determine what to write first or how to order my words. Last night proved truly unexpected. Though it wasn’t a situation allowing earnest conversation regardless, I had wished to speak at least a little—indeed, I even carried words meant to delight you, Otoyo-san. Perhaps because all dammed-up emotions overflowed all at once, I found myself merely trembling and choking, my heart thrown into chaos, unable to voice anything at all. To my own astonishment, I even forgot those very words I’d meant to share with you. Yet having wept together—you and I—until all that anguish clogging my chest beyond endurance was washed away, the joy that followed defies capture by brush and ink. This must hold true for you as well, Otoyo-san. The joy I felt upon parting from you last night left me as though my body were floating adrift through empty air. Even now, I still feel weightless, buoyant. When I think there exists no one more fortunate than I, happiness wells up—so intensely I can scarcely contain it.

Let’s save discussions about how we’ll be together going forward for when we meet again. "As for my intention to make you happy—though Mother and Elder Sister seem quite opposed—crucially, Elder Brother told me, 'Make up your mind to be with Otoyo-san.'" Elder Brother has been fond of Otoyo-san from the start. My body now belongs entirely to you, Otoyo-san, without any significant impediments. Therefore, on my side, there’s no need to worry anxiously now. Moreover, since people seem to be making something of a fuss about us two right now, let’s stay calm and bide our time for a while. Even so, Otoyo-san must have her own considerations. "I want to hear how things are at your home and also want to see Otoyo-san’s letter as soon as possible."

Shōsaku’s letter remained thoroughly true to his character in its carefree tone. The very next day, Otoyo sent a letter to Shōsaku.

“I had intended to write first, but your letter left me utterly intoxicated.” “Taking it out to read and reading it again—I found myself without composure to write a proper reply, and thus passed last night in utter disarray.” “I must sincerely apologize for my rudeness the other night.” “I only remember crying sadly as if it were a dream—I recall nothing else.” “Afterward, I thought I had been too rude.” “I beg your forgiveness for all this—how both sorrow and joy surged in my breast at once, impossible to contain—Shō-sama, these days I find myself growing timid and faint of heart.” “When I think of you, tears well up immediately.” “And yet, Elder Brother’s precious words—you may find reassurance in that.”

In my view—considering Fukada’s presence, Akiba’s presence (Seiroku’s household), your household, and my household alike—if we two were to live shabbily as neighbors, society would surely judge us harshly no matter what. Thus I think 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.

Speaking of my family—as you well know, my father is such a stubborn man that he’s unlikely to listen to anything I say. Moreover, it seems there have been marriage arrangement talks concerning me lately. I’ve caught whispers urging haste before any mishaps occur—how utterly disheartening. When you were alone, Shō-san, I was there for you; when I found myself alone, you were there for me. Now that we’ve finally resolved to be together, my marriage arrangements arise immediately—I feel utterly detached from both body and world, my heart lifeless.

But Shō-sama, no matter what may happen from now on, my resolve will not waver. Even if my body—yes, even if my hands and feet are torn off one by one—my heart will not leave you. Though I am resolved to this, I cannot know what hardships we will face before finally being together. I beseech you to read my heart. Contrary to my usual self, I have done nothing but complain and must apologize for my rudeness. Even in speaking of such things, my heart finds comfort. "Even with all this, I who have you, Shō-sama, do not consider myself unfortunate in the slightest."

The world grew busy with planting preparations. Weeping willows began showing faint hints of green. When talk turned to whether equinox cherries would bloom - in capital and countryside alike - it became that season when human hearts rise lightest.

In one household, when parents expelled their son-in-law, their daughter left home with him; though people mediated and urged the parents to take them back, this time the son-in-law refused to return. In another case, a daughter trying to elope with a man who had come from another region to work was restrained by her brother at the village border. With two such scandalous tales emerging in this small village, even Shōsaku and Otoyo's love story—far from being some trivial dalliance—was now being supplanted by fresher gossip.

VI

At the base of the coral tree hedge, butterbur sprouts stretched upward with innocent vigor, their buds beginning to bloom. In the outer stream, clumps of water dropwort created shaded patches that narrowed the water's flow. A pair of swallows—husband and wife—flew busily over the rice seedling beds, chattering incessantly as they circled. Under the faint glow of spring dawn, the visibly warm rice fields hosted several groups: some plowed in twos and threes, others cut wheat sheaves, while a few applied fertilizer to rapeseed plants—the countryside now fully immersed in its busiest season. Peach blossoms from nearby fields and pear blossoms from hedge edges—perhaps scattered by last night's wind—floated delicate petal patterns around the seedling beds. The neatly arranged plots had already accumulated green growth an inch thick. Before anyone knew it, the swallow pair became two pairs; their occasional belly-skims against green blades left one wondering why. Had one peacefully faced this spring radiance, even a non-poet might have briefly forgotten worldly cares—but Otoyo, whose very being found spring's melancholy unbearable, was hardly one to delight in such radiance.

Men had few possessions at home, and women were busy preparing for sericulture. Otoyo had gone outside the wicker gate where she once welcomed Shōsaku, intending to wash silkworm trays on this peaceful day. Wrapped in irrepressible melancholy, she paid little heed to the silkworm trays she washed; time and again she rose to gaze at the distant rice fields. About a kilometer south from here, amidst vast rice fields, there lay a forest like a small island—that was Shōsaku’s village. Through gaps in the grove, the white walls of a storehouse were glimpsed intermittently; that was Shōsaku’s home.

Otoyo felt her longing for Shōsaku surge anew, unaware of the crimson tears tracing paths down her cheeks. "How is Shō-san doing? Exchanging nothing but letters leaves me feeling so terribly anxious." "Even though I can see your home from here like this, does Elder Brother still hold that opinion now—that we should resolve to be together?" Otoyo muttered under her breath as she gazed at Shōsaku’s house. As the marriage arrangements seemed to be finally materializing, Otoyo suddenly wanted to meet Shōsaku. Meeting him now would require no further discussion, yet she yearned to unburden her anguished heart. Though she thought ten o’clock had surely passed, many silkworm trays still remained unwashed. Otoyo began washing as if suddenly remembering. Her well-formed shoulders bore some sort of shrimp-colored sash, a white hand towel draped over her head for shade—the beauty around her jawline. The sight of a beautiful person’s anguished face was unbearably pitiful.

“Otoyo-san! Otoyo-san!”

The one calling was her sister-in-law Ochiyo. Otoyo did not respond. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t respond—she couldn’t. She already understood why she was being called. “Otoyo-san, your father is calling for you.” Approaching the wicker gate, Ochiyo called out. “Yes...”

Otoyo finally managed to respond in a voice that sounded forced. Though she had known for about ten days that this day would come and had fully prepared herself, now she found her resolve boiling over with frustration.

“Come now, Otoyo-san, let’s go together.”

Ochiyo had come outside the wicker gate, “My, what lovely weather we’re having.” Ochiyo gazed leisurely at the rice fields, failing to notice the unusual expression on Otoyo’s face. Otoyo had no choice but to remove her sash, took a hand towel, and entered the tatami room together with the other woman. The father, who had been waiting impatiently, was smiling cheerfully by himself, “Otoyo, come here, Otoyo.”

“Yes...” Even under normal circumstances, Otoyo was courteous toward her parents, but today—given the gravity of the discussion—she sat with particular formality about two and a half tatami mats away from her father. On the rosewood tray sat Kutani teacups and Negoro confectionery dishes—one could tell without being told that this guest warranted meticulous preparation. Mother was also sitting there, remaking the tea. Otoyo had slightly bowed her head and was staring at her hands resting on her lap. She wasn’t one to show changes in complexion ordinarily, but today she could no longer contain herself—the blood drained from her face, leaving it nearly the color of white wax.

Father, absorbed in his own selfish thoughts alone, failed to notice Otoyo’s pallor; Mother, however, keenly observed it. “Otoyo, what’s wrong? You look terribly pale.” “No, it’s nothing at all.” “Well, if that’s how it is...” Mother poured the tea she had prepared into three teacups—her husband’s, her daughter’s, and her own—distributed them, and sat down to listen to the discussion. “Otoyo, this isn’t about anything else—Mr. Hazure came regarding your marriage arrangement and has just left.” “You must know Hayabune’s Saitō—you’ve likely met him at least once. Since you’re already fully acquainted with each other, it’s truly unproblematic.” “The talks began this month—they say over there they know you well, Otoyo-san. If you’d just consent to come, they want you managing the household from day one. It’s an earnest plea—though it’d be his third marriage and your second, that’s just how it goes.” “Even if it’s his third marriage, it’s no different from the first since there are no children.” “Since sending you to that place before was hard on you too, this time—though I already know—I checked just to be sure.” “There’s not a speck of debt—his landholdings are twice ours.” “He’s someone who’s even served as village headman once—I’d say there’s no fault in making him your husband.” “You going there would bring the utmost happiness—that’s what I believe.” “With that, there’s no dissent left in the household—now everything hinges on your consent alone.” “Mr. Hazure has already returned under the assumption that everything was properly settled.” “Otoyo, surely you’ve no objections?”

Otoyo had turned doll-like and remained silent. “Otoyo, you’ve no objections now.” “I thought we could settle things since it’s a perfectly splendid match—but you’re such a particular one. That’s why I’m confirming like this.” “You’ve no objections now—have you?”

Otoyo remained silent. Finally noticing his daughter’s pallor, the father hardened his voice with gruff intensity, “If there’s no objections I’ll settle it now.” “I’d thought to have the formal acceptance done today, but considering various factors, I’ve arranged for the formal reply to be made by tomorrow.” “You couldn’t possibly have any objections—he’s someone who’s made up his mind already!” Otoyo finally moved her body. With trembling hands pressed before her knees, “Father, as this is a matter of grave importance for my life, please wait three days before giving your formal acceptance…”

Otoyo answered in a slightly trembling voice. After all, she couldn’t bring herself to give a firm refusal from the very start. Otoyo’s father had been a man of unwavering stubbornness since his youth, priding himself on never backing down once he’d stated his position. Even in old age, that stubborn disposition of his showed no signs of abating. He would declare that since he hated retracting what he’d once stated, he tried not to meddle in others’ affairs—yet while rarely showing his face in public, even in household matters he refrained from easily interfering with what the young couple did, whether out of that very intention or not. Being such a man, he would grow obstinately furious when his words went unheeded. Now, Otoyo’s manner of response seemed disapproving, so he became extremely enraged inwardly. Especially because of Shōsaku’s involvement, his face grew even more livid as he glared at Otoyo, but after some time,

“Hmm, so you mean you’ll consent after three days?” Otoyo remained silent. “Otoyo, if you stay silent, I can’t understand.” “Are you telling me you’ll consent after three days?” “Well now, Otoyo, though you’re my own daughter, you’re such a sensible woman.” “Even this way—us worrying—it’s all out of concern for you.” “I am grateful for your consideration, Father, but having been once chastened, I must treat this as the grave matter of my life this time.” “Please allow me these three days to consider.” “Whether I consent or refuse, I shall settle my decision within these three days.”

Father’s face looked ready to erupt in a roar at any moment, yet given the gravity of the matter, he was managing to restrain his fury. “After our formal statement that we’d give a definite answer by tomorrow, can you really ask us to wait two more days for your response?” “What can’t be decided by tomorrow won’t get decided even if you extend it two more days—there’s no logic to that!” “Can you really make others wait with such insulting words? Whether yes or no, you must give a definite answer by tomorrow!”

“Otoyo, can you not find some way to reconsider a little more?” “With parents and siblings all in agreement, why would we ever press something detrimental upon you?” “Precisely because I recognize there was parental oversight last time, I’m resolved to have you go to Saitō now.” “From every angle there’s not a single flaw to mention—though youth may struggle to make sound judgments, with Saitō you’d have no cause for concern.” “Do you utterly refuse to consent?”

The father suppressed his seething anger and clasped his hands together as he reasoned with her. Otoyo remained silent, staring unblinkingly at her hands resting on her knees. Father had reached his limit. “So you’re finally refusing then.” “I see right through your game—you can’t bring yourself to refuse outright, so you spout this nonsense about needing three days!” “You’re deceiving your own parents right before their eyes!” “So here’s what it is—you’re still carrying on with that Shōsaku bastard, aren’t you?” “You dare keep messing around… You ungrateful wretch—planning to disgrace your parents even further? How dare you…!”

Otoyo collapsed in tears. Father suddenly stood up with eyes blazing from unrestrained fury. Mother too scrambled to her feet and clung to him.

“Ochiyo! Ochiyo... Come quickly!” Ochiyo came rushing from the adjoining room and restrained Father. Ochiyo gradually subdued Father’s anger, while Mother guided Otoyo to a separate chamber.

The commotion here temporarily subsided, but the matter shouldn’t end like this.

VII

Otoyo's father had always cherished her particularly, believing that among his children she had inherited his nature most completely; that despite being a woman she alone could be his conversational equal; and indeed he found her more dependable than even her elder brother Sasuke. Otoyo had always conversed well with her father and had hardly ever defied his wishes until now. When rumors had arisen about Otoyo and Shōsaku, Mother had been greatly worried; yet Father, trusting that Otoyo would never cause her parents such concern, had dismissed the gossip outright. When Shōsaku had indeed become Fukada's adopted son and Otoyo had returned without incident, Father had concluded the rumors were mere slander; yet now, faced with what he deemed this supremely advantageous marriage proposal, Otoyo's unexpectedly obstinate resistance—which he discerned stemmed from her bond with Shōsaku—made him feel as though his hopes and happiness had been uprooted from their very foundations, despair and resentment and shame churning simultaneously within his breast.

Yet he couldn't remain perpetually angry, nor cling solely to hatred; even within this vexing obstinacy and irritable tension lingered paternal affection, for considering how—despite her apparent wisdom—her youth rendered her both single-minded in conviction and torn with conflict, she seemed pitiable too, thus he couldn't wholly dismiss the thought that guiding her reconsideration constituted a parent's duty.

In the inner parlor after dinner, even with the three of them—the parents and Sasuke—gathered around the brazier, their conversation lacked momentum. “We’ve ended up with a troublesome spoiled child.”

Father was the one sighing as he stared at the ceiling. "Otoyo's your favorite child, Father—you'd think she'd listen to what you say." "You shouldn't go saying things like that in the middle of this conversation." "Otoyo's never once gone against my word before, and this would've been the best marriage prospect imaginable—yet she acts like this. That's got to be because of her connection to Shōsaku." "You call yourself a mother, yet you haven't noticed a single thing?"

"But you—it’s only been about a month since Shōsaku left Fukada, hasn’t it?" "So of course you couldn’t have imagined such a thing happening in that time." "Mother, people are saying Shōsaku left Fukada for Otoyo’s sake."

“Is that really so?” “He’s truly a damnable wretch.” “What’s she thinking getting involved with some man who can’t be taken as a son-in-law or married off properly? She wasn’t this foolish before.” “It’s a fine match, but we’ll call it off—first thing tomorrow, we’ll refuse.” “That bastard’s ruining our name! Can’t keep him under this roof! Toss him out at dawn—to hell with him!” “But Father—she hasn’t flat-out refused yet. Since we must answer by tomorrow, let’s properly hear her true feelings.” “And about this Shōsaku business—whether we marry her off or not, we can’t let that matter lie unexamined.”

“No good—no good at all! Given how she’s acting… Once someone turns foolish, they stay foolish—I’m completely fed up.” “What’s there to do? It keeps up appearances, ensures her happiness too—and they’re begging for it on their side. What a damn shame.” Father heaved a deep sigh.

“So please try reasoning with her through every possible approach.” “Even if we call it Otoyo’s happiness, if she herself doesn’t consider it such and firmly says she detests it, then there’s truly nothing to be done.”

“Even if everyone would consider it happiness, I can’t allow such selfishness—defying your parents’ wishes without proper reason.” “Even if you say we can’t allow it, Mother, there’s nothing to be done.” “Sasuke, don’t spout nonsense—it’s precisely because even you say such things that we end up in these situations.” “When she says ‘Please let me think a little as it concerns my very life,’ demanding immediate agreement to everything is rather harsh, don’t you think?”

“Then Sasuke—you too disagree with sending Toyo to Saitō?” “It’s not that I disagree, but if she says she hates it so much, then I think...” “I’m not saying this to take Otoyo’s side.” “The problem is you—the moment you say something, you dig in your heels.” “What… What nonsense about me being stubborn! It’s because that girl Toyo’s refusal has its reasons—I won’t have her saying she hates it!” “Sasuke, that’s enough now—this isn’t getting us anywhere.” “Now you, since Ochiyo will properly hear what’s in her heart, let’s leave this matter for tomorrow.” “The water’s gone cold—Sasuke, make some tea.”

Father’s expression grew increasingly sullen. Admittedly I do have a stubborn streak at times—can't deny that—but this time there was no unreasonableness on my part; expecting everyone at home would rejoice and matters resolve smoothly only to face her refusal and Sasuke’s half-heartedness left Father stewing with frustration until unwittingly his obstinacy began taking root. Utterly appalled—how did she become such a fool? It was hopeless—he’d refuse the proposal outright! Yet even as these words spilled from his lips, he wasn’t one to abandon any course he’d resolved upon, no matter the circumstances. Twisting various arguments yet stubbornly clinging to his original resolve was this man’s habit; Otoyo would face hardship from now on.

Ochiyo was not much of a confidante in such matters, but being a kind woman without malice, the two got along well even as bride and sister-in-law. Therefore, Ochiyo told Otoyo with genuine kindness and sincere sympathy that now that things had come to this, hiding it would do no good—she should open her heart without concealment. Since Otoyo had indeed been thinking the same way, she revealed everything about her relationship with Shōsaku, “I had the misfortune of being wed to a husband my heart could never accept—enduring unspeakable miseries. To speak of being chastened by it would be foolish... For what purpose does one take a husband? Even were there no Shōsaku, I’ve no intention of going to live with some man whose heart I cannot fathom.” “If I were to change my resolve now and marry out, everything I’ve done would be seen as wanton.” “Though I feel deep remorse for opposing my parents’ wishes—they who fret endlessly for my sake—this matter alone I must entrust to God’s providence. Sister, please bear with me. However selfish this may seem, I resolved myself long ago.” “No matter what may come now, I’ve no intention of looking back.”

Ochiyo found herself crying for Otoyo for no reason and truly came to sympathize with her. That very night, Ochiyo told Mother, and Mother told her husband. Even Otoyo’s blazing words lost most of their heat when conveyed from Ochiyo’s lips to Mother, and by the time Mother relayed them to Father, they became entirely calm explanations.

“What nonsense… That marrying her off there would make her wanton…” “Preposterous! What you’re doing is the height of wantonness! You ungrateful wretch—I won’t let this stand!”

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

VIII

When breakfast time came, Otoyo still hadn’t left her room. Ochiyo worked alone and served meals to the entire household. She dressed the two siblings bound for school in their kimonos, gave the main room a thorough cleaning, and soon Sasuke had shouldered his hoe and left for the fields. Ochiyo slipped quietly into Otoyo’s room, “Otoyo-san, please rest properly today. I’ll handle washing the silkworm baskets from now on.” Even so urged, Otoyo couldn’t bring herself to stay abed and emerged from her room. Her emaciation had grown noticeable overnight. Father sat puffing tobacco in the back room while conversing with Mother. Though Otoyo had no particular reason to feel hesitant, imagining what fresh reproaches today might bring set her heart fluttering so violently she couldn’t face preparing breakfast; after washing up and changing clothes, she was about to head straight to where Ochiyo scrubbed silkworm baskets when—

“Otoyo.” It was Mother who had called. Otoyo took a seat in nearly the same position as yesterday. “Good morning.” She said faintly and waited for her parents’ words. Though they were her own parents, their very faces filled her with terror, and she kept hers bowed low. Even a criminal undergoing interrogation would not suffer this much, one might think. Otoyo was breathing through her chest. “Otoyo... I’ve heard everything about your resolve from Ochiyo and understand it completely.” “I’ve come to know you’ve made a firm promise with a man your parents don’t permit.” “I fully grasp your determination, but listen well, Otoyo... Here sit the parents who birthed you and raised you till this day.” “By your logic, parents couldn’t speak on their child’s marriage even after raising them—but such things don’t exist in the West or India.” “Of course we’re your parents—if our dear child has a wish, we’d move heaven and earth to grant it.” “Making you weep like this isn’t for our sake—it’s all for your future.” “Now, a parent’s plans don’t always succeed, but we’ve lived long and learned much—you’re clever but young.” “Not letting my child have their way—that too is a parent’s duty.” “Shōsaku’s no bad man—no bad man at all—but when two strong-willed folks like you clash, this affair was doomed from the start.” “A secret between two that can’t be permitted even if one wished it.” “In short—isn’t this what you’d call parental-forbidden promiscuity?”

At this moment, Otoyo let tears stream down onto her lap. She made no move to wipe her tear-streaked face, lips pressed tightly together as she kept her head bowed. Mother too had taken pity, her eyes moistening. “Whether it’s Shōsaku’s household or our own—out of regard for Fukada and Akiba—if we were to permit your wantonness, the honor of our foremost family would be lost.” “Would this not bring utter disgrace in dealing with Saitō as well?” “Even if you two being lovers is all well and good, what do you intend to do about the trouble you’re causing your parents and siblings? Otoyo, do you think your family doesn’t matter as long as the two of you are happy?” “Even if what’s done cannot be helped, why can’t you amend it?” “You may feel obligated to Shōsaku, but there are countless ways to handle such matters through proper channels.” “Until now you’ve always been so reasonable with your parents and siblings—it’s beyond me how you can’t grasp even this much common sense.” “I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

Having said this, Father too let tears well up in his eyes as if overcome by emotion. Mother had long been wiping away tears. Otoyo could no longer hold herself up against the pain. "If you would just change your mind, all of this—your fate included—could be settled without ruining the family's honor." "Even Shōsaku could go to another proper household as an adopted son if you weren't here." "Wouldn't everything work out for the better then?" "Now listen well to this, Otoyo—you're not one who can't grasp reason."

As Father’s words grew gentler, Otoyo’s anguish only intensified. Otoyo too had words stuck in her throat. To have my relationship with Shōsaku dismissed as mere wantonness was truly galling. Yet for me to brazenly speak of love before my parents was something I could never bring myself to do even if it killed me.

“What you say is entirely reasonable in every respect, Father, and I am profoundly at fault. But Father, I beg you—out of mercy—to cast aside this single unfilial child.”

Otoyo’s pride and endurance had finally reached their limit; she cried out and collapsed in tears. The timid mother,

“Then do as ya please.”

“Hmm, persist splendidly in your obstinacy then.” “There may be painful parts to this, but when your parents show such reasoned kindness through understanding principles, you might at least consider it! Do you mean to selfishly persist without regard for right or wrong? Very well—then this parent too has his resolve!”

Having declared this, Father stood up and stormed out with heavy footsteps. Needless to say, the marriage arrangement was called off. If Shōsaku had not existed and Otoyo had merely rejected Saitō’s marriage proposal, her stubborn father might not have been so obstinate. But in others’ eyes, it would inevitably appear that Otoyo had selfishly gotten her way, making any future resolution difficult. Father continued to make Otoyo cry several more times afterwards with duty-bound logic and cold reasoning. Threatening to kill her and making a scene wasn’t just once or twice. He was already a man of obstinate stubbornness, and in this matter alone, he believed his arguments were perfectly reasonable and without any coercion—yet none of it got through, leaving him utterly resentful. Because Otoyo remained stubbornly determined to defy her parents’ will out of sheer selfishness regarding something so clearly evident, he simply could not bring himself to forgive her. Yet in the end, she was his own child—there was nothing to be done, leaving matters perpetually unresolved.

Although Otoyo's heart remained unyielding to the end, her attitude toward her father was equally gentle to the last. However,

“Since it’s my fault, please cast me away...” She kept saying nothing but that. If she knew it was wrong, when told “Why won’t you heed your parents’ words?” she would collapse in tears. “Since you had your way in refusing Saitō’s marriage proposal, this time if a suitable match arises, you must obey your father’s will.”

Because Otoyo absolutely refused to say “Very well,” her father’s reasoning failed to gain any ground. This proved unbearably frustrating. Though he insisted it wasn’t mere obstinacy but concern for the family, his mounting irritation stripped away all else, plunging him down a solitary path of self-will. It would have been better had he raged in despair and abandoned his efforts, but being stubborn, however much he angered himself, he never relinquished his original resolve. At heart, the father had always loved Otoyo—even now he wasn’t entirely without pity for her—yet once stubbornness took hold, even his own child became nothing to him, which showed he was by no means an unfeeling tyrant under ordinary circumstances.

Otoyo had grown so visibly haggard that to anyone’s eyes, these past several days had seen almost no cheerful voice or radiant laughter from her. Elder Brother and his wife, and Mother too, could no longer bear to see it. Though Elder Brother was a man who generally didn’t concern himself with most matters, even so there came a time when—

“I simply can’t understand why you’d harbor such persistent hatred toward Otoyo. If she’s resolved enough to die for it, then you might as well leave it to Otoyo’s judgment.” When he said this, Father—

“Hmph—saying such things to let her indulge in wantonness to her heart’s content!”

Since he would immediately say such things, there was no helping it. Ochiyo in particular felt extreme sympathy—pleading with Mother and her own husband—and secretly devised ways to comfort her. She voluntarily mediated correspondence with Shōsaku and even contrived opportunities for them to meet occasionally. No matter what sorrows befell her or hardships she endured, whenever Otoyo received word from Shōsaku or on those rare occasions met him face-to-face, both grief and anguish would vanish from the depths of her heart—so she never wept nearly as much as outsiders might suppose. True to her reputation as a skilled worker, whatever task she undertook, she labored twice as much as any other.

Father still declared at every breakfast and dinner that keeping someone like that in the house would damage their reputation in the community—they must quickly send her off into domestic service somewhere. Because Mother was timid by nature, she couldn’t openly defy her husband’s words even as she pitied Otoyo in her heart. “Even if you told us to send Otoyo into service,” said Elder Brother, “to replace her you’d need to hire two ordinary women—you wouldn’t manage otherwise.”

The blunt elder brother merely said what he did and neither declared it unacceptable nor agreed to proceed.

Once the meal was finished, he would promptly head out to the rice fields.

Nine

The world turned verdant with new leaves. The pea plants had pods swelling at their bases while their flowers grew tall, and the broad bean plants showed the same development—pods thickening as blossoms reached upward. The wheat fields finally began to yellow. Around this time when loach catchers ventured out to the back rice fields every night around eight or nine in their spare time, the silkworms entered their second molting period, and farm work grew busier with each passing day. Through Ochiyo’s thoughtful arrangement, Otoyo came to spend an entire day meeting with Shōsaku and thoroughly discussing their future direction. Of course, Ochiyo’s husband was also aware of this.

Ochiyo, who had always shown particular sympathy toward Otoyo, was in truth less concerned with consultations than with kindly ensuring that amidst their jewel-like romance, they might share one tranquil night of whispered affections before farm work grew too demanding.

Because Ochiyo would be accompanying them, the parents casually granted permission. They would devoutly visit the Snake King Shrine in Yōanji Village that they customarily worshipped at, then detour north to Ochiyo’s hometown in Sachiya on their return—staying overnight there if evening fell through Ochiyo’s arrangement.

That day they rose early in the morning, completed their morning tasks together, and styled each other's hair. Because she would be accompanying Otoyo, Ochiyo too dressed herself up as a young woman. They wore matching gingko-leaf chignons and identical lined kimonos, their obis of similar yuzen-dyed crepe silk, and even their black silk-covered parasols shared coordinated hues. When the two descended into the garden with scarlet hems tucked up at their waists, the glittering sunlight made the surroundings suddenly brighten. For the first time in ages, Otoyo showed an unclouded smile while remaining somewhat reserved and inward-focused—perhaps owing to a lingering sense of guilt.

Like birds freed from their cage, the two women found everything they saw along the way fascinating. There were dahlias at a roadside house; they stopped to look. Kirishima azaleas were blooming; they stopped to look. There were Western flowers; they stopped to look again. Ochiyo was utterly carefree, without a care in the world. “Otoyo-san, look at this! Otoyo-san, I’m telling you, look at these beautiful flowers!” Ochiyo would stop and delight in them whenever she saw flowers. And then she would repeat, “Otoyo-san, look at this! Otoyo-san, look at this!” Ochiyo, carefree by nature and yet to taste hardship, had gone to the trouble of bringing Otoyo this far while being unable to fathom that within Otoyo’s heart lay a mind far from carefree enough to linger over roadside blossoms. Though Ochiyo was a year older, when it came to matters of love, she remained very much a child.

Otoyo, having no choice but to follow Ochiyo’s lead, unconsciously clapped her hands in rhythm as she murmured, “Oh how lovely, oh how lovely.” With parasols tilted against their shoulders, the two walked in a manner that blurred the line between playful wandering and purposeful stride. Otoyo was growing unbearably impatient. Until leaving home, the act of departing had delighted Otoyo; after stepping out, for a time, having left had brought her joy—but now her mind held nothing beyond thoughts of Shōsaku. Keeping pace with Ochiyo’s carefree manner, she uttered hollow words and forced smiles at things that stirred no delight within her, walking as if in a trance. In Otoyo’s heart there existed only Shōsaku—no dahlias graced her vision, no Kirishima azaleas registered in her awareness, none of those Western flowers held any reality at all.

“I wonder if Shō-san went ahead already or is still coming from behind,” Otoyo thought. These reflections remained confined to her heart, impossible to share with the oblivious Ochiyo. Though she occasionally averted her eyes to glance backward, no figure resembling him came into view. Aimless strolling only made her body feel more leaden. “Otoyo-san, I’ve grown rather weary,” said Ochiyo. “Shall we rest here awhile?”

Ochiyo’s carefreeness knew no bounds. Otoyo’s heart longed to reach Myōsenji even a moment sooner.

“But Ochiyo-san, this being the outskirts of Himejima, the village children will be here soon.” “We were supposed to meet at Myōsenji, wasn’t it?” At being told this, she finally seemed to take some notice, “Well then, let’s pick up the pace a bit.” Myōsenji Temple in Ienoko Village was a renowned temple in this area, though now only its Nio Gate and main hall retained vestiges of their former glory, with no one sweeping the precincts free of dust. In particular, the main hall’s roof had partially collapsed midway, exposing the bamboo rafters of its framework. When the two entered through the gate, Shōsaku had yet to notice their arrival, intently surveying the main hall’s surroundings and studying the building’s condition. Shōsaku naturally possessed no particular expertise in architectural matters, but being a man with something of an enthusiast’s interest, he immediately recognized upon first glance that this main hall’s architectural style differed from others, and found himself studying it with unexpected intensity.

“Leaving such splendid architecture exposed to the rain is terrible—proof there’s no one left in the neighboring villages, a disgrace to this district! Quite an outrageous state of affairs—something even the prefectural office ought to address. In short, a humiliation for all Chiba residents... Truly appalling.” Shōsaku muttered these things to himself, remaining unaware that his lover had already come this far to meet him. Ochiyo clapped her hands briskly; Shōsaku turned around and emerged. “Shō-san, what are you staring at so intently with that carefree look?”

“Oh, just because such a splendid hall’s gotten so dilapidated.” “My, what a carefree soul you are! Here we’ve been waiting since we arrived, and there you were zoning out staring at temples until you’d completely forgotten about us two!” Ochiyo might not have understood her own carefreeness, but she seemed to grasp Shōsaku’s. Shōsaku came to where the two were, smiling softly. When one has many thoughts, words seem harder to speak—Shōsaku said nothing to Otoyo, and Otoyo merely smiled radiantly at Shōsaku without uttering a word. The only thing that caught his eye was Otoyo aimlessly switching the umbrella she held from right to left. The formless heart of longing is often communicated through mutual words, but such belongs 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 could be satisfied without speaking. For their formless hearts of longing could be fully embraced without relying on words. For some time, an innocent back-and-forth about whether to wait or not continued between Ochiyo and Shōsaku. Their heartfelt emotions remained unspoken; instead, they passed time with such idle talk—love was ever frustrating, never bending to the heart’s will. The three of them opened their rice ball lunches there.

10 “Slowpokes!” Shōsaku grumbled two or three times, and around two in the afternoon, the three of them finally reached Goja Pond. In those days when daylight stretched to the point of weariness, there were times when lost in thought one might forget whether it was morning or afternoon. The early leafing season, not yet at the point of suffering from heat, was the most pleasant time for pilgrimages. After the three had come together, both Otoyo and Shōsaku found a measure of calm in their hearts, and everything they saw began to seem interesting. They naturally grew buoyant. Their present contentment proved pleasurable, while thoughts of the distant future were unconsciously relegated to the recesses of their minds.

Had it been just Shōsaku and Otoyo alone, matters might not have proceeded this way. There was Ochiyo—a mediating presence who, while somewhat intrusive in one respect, also served to harmonize their interactions and prevent extremes, making today’s outing more enjoyable than anticipated. At first, Ochiyo’s carefreeness had stood out, but now the three had become somewhat equally carefree. However, for Shōsaku and Otoyo, there was of course an inexplicable joy particular to them alone. As if someone had swept clean every last speck of dust and debris that had accumulated in every corner, today brought such clarity of mind unlike any before—that sensation of everything obstructing hands, feet, and head, all that had kept them perpetually hunched over, now released completely, leaving them free to stretch out unbound.

At Goja Pond, ducks still remained. Takabe ducks, small ducks, and large ducks could also be seen. From winter through spring, they say there are countless thousands of them, but even today hundreds could be seen frolicking about. The pond spanned fifty to sixty thousand tsubo—a rather large lake at first glance. The water was clear, and the surrounding hills were beautifully wrapped in the green of young grass; along the shore, Manchurian wild rice and reeds formed youthful, elongated outlines in the pond. In the flatlands of Kitasōma, there was after all a scenic spot worthy of leisure. The ducks had gathered in the shadow of a hill where people seldom ventured, from around the middle toward the southern part of the pond, crying out with indistinguishable voices. Goja Pond may have a fearsome name, but it is merely a small lake suitable even for women and children to play in.

On the flatland by the lakeside stood three or four thatched houses. Among them stood a small cottage facing the water called Kogetsutei. To those who seek it, they offer a seat. The three of them spread out sweets and fruits purchased in Tōgane, gazing across the lake surface as they conversed without reserve. The proprietor, an old man around seventy, related to the young couple how he had obtained permission to designate this area as a no-hunting zone, recounted the pond’s history, and even spoke of duck hunting. Among them were some interesting tales.

“It appears even among waterfowl there exists constancy—when either a female or male gets taken, the remaining widowed one can be seen off to one side, crying pitifully alone amidst other paired mates frolicking together.” “Such things happen from time to time—one can tell at once when a bird’s lost its partner.” “A moving sight indeed.” Hearing this, Otoyo and Shōsaku felt tears welling up. When the proprietor withdrew, Otoyo could no longer contain herself and sighed aloud about the many hardships that would surely lie ahead for her and Shōsaku.

Ochiyo also turned to Shōsaku and,

“As you’re aware, Shō-san, ever since that marriage proposal from Saitō fell through, Father has held such resentment toward Otoyo-san—his heart still hasn’t fully softened even now. Truly, Otoyo-san’s worries and hardships have been beyond ordinary.” “Even now, Father’s mood hasn’t improved.” “Since Otoyo-san has become so thin like this, I couldn’t bear to watch her suffer—so we discussed it and plotted today’s affair.” “It’s quite a risky plan, but since Otoyo-san is so pitifully distressed, Shō-san, please have a thorough discussion with her tonight and settle on a course of action.” “If you two can settle on a plan like this, then we at home can find a way to talk to Father, you see, Shō-san.”

Shōsaku, awkward in speech, said this. “Ochiyo-san, you’ve been so kind to worry about us like this—I cannot begin to express how grateful I am.” “It’s been four months since I last saw Otoyo-san openly.” “People kept saying she’d gotten thin, but I never imagined she’d become this thin. When I actually saw her for the first time at Myōsenji Temple earlier, I was truly shocked.” “I’ve resolved to go to Tokyo within five or six days, so please rest assured, Ochiyo-san and Otoyo-san—my brother has given his word.”

“Shōsaku, what’s Otoyo-san feeling? What about your resolve?” “My resolve’s been set proper, like I told you before—I tell you.” “With your resolve alone, I’m ready whenever—I tell you.” “The other day, I already talked to Mother about it.” “Then when I laid out the plan—‘Aye, that’ll do,’ I said. For youngsters putting their backs into work, the city’s better. I ain’t one to fuss about pride or reputation—Tokyo’s where you’ll find work worth doing, I tell you.” “Then once you’ve made up your mind, get it done quick as can be.” “There’s something else—not that I can do anything grand myself, but even though the village folks called me greedy this and greedy that, thanks to that, after five-six years of hard graft, I’ve managed to save near 1,500 yen.” “Since this part I’m giving you don’t touch the family’s ancestral assets, it’s my own business.” “You keep that in mind too—learn some trade in Tokyo... When Otoyo-san’s father makes trouble, it must come from loving his child after all. That’ll sort itself out in time—no need to fret. Just keep pushing steady toward your goal.”

“Since Brother says this, I have no worries.” “Please convey this well from Ochiyo-san to Sasuke-san, and we’ll also rely on Father in every way possible.” Ochiyo, who had always respected Otoyo as the more capable of them despite being her younger sister, was overjoyed that today alone she had been able to act like a true elder sister.

“Then Otoyo-san can rest assured at last.” “Now that it’s just Father alone, we’ll manage to talk him around at home.” “Today was truly wonderful, wasn’t it.”

“Honestly, Ochiyo-san, I can’t bear how much it pains me to keep Father angry like this for who knows how long. There’s nothing unreasonable about what Father says… I want to somehow mend his mood, I…” “Well I certainly understand all the hardships you’ve endured, Otoyo-san.” Shōsaku looked between Ochiyo’s and Otoyo’s faces. “Ochiyo-san, Otoyo-san has become a bit different from her usual self.”

“How so?” “She used to be much more decisive—not the worrying type she’s become now.” “Lately she’s grown strangely timid, has Otoyo-san.” Otoyo, her long clear eyes brimming with amusement, gazed sideways. “That’s because Shō-san caused Otoyo-san too much hardship.” “That isn’t true—I always do whatever Otoyo-san says.” “How hateful, saying such things!” “Then tell me, Shō-san—why did I go to Fukada as an adopted son?”

Ochiyo said this and laughed, "Ha ha ha ha!"

“That’s also because Otoyo-san told me to go.” “Stop it, stop it! If we keep talking like this, even the ducks will laugh at us. Otoyo-san, Shō-san—come on now, let’s go pay our respects at the Snake King Shrine!”

The three of them scrambled outside. Following the north-side path along the lake’s shore for seven or eight chō leads to Yōanji Village. Chasing and being chased—picking wildflowers here, gathering pebbles to toss there, clinging together at every cry of “Snake!”—they wound their way around the water’s edge. “Shō-san, is the Snake King deity really the god of chapped hands?” “What kinda gods they are—I ain’t got a lick of clue.” “So we’re praying to scaly-skinned gods for cracked skin now?”

“Well, that’s a god we’re talking about—if you pray, you’ll receive any blessing.” “They say if your limbs heal proper-like, they’ll make you tabi socks or gloves or such, you see, Shō-san.” “The old man from earlier said there’s a mighty great blessing to be had, y’know.” While making innocent conversation, the three of them eventually came before the Snake King Shrine. Yet even so—with utmost sincerity in their prayers—they went dashing around the pond once more, their joy swelling ever brighter until at last the sun hung low in the west.

11

In the middle of Tōgane Town, slightly elevated toward the northern hill behind, there lay a scenic spot forming a distinct area. Encircled by three hills, with a small triangular lake resembling a thick glass mirror cast at its center, there were temples and schools, numerous farmhouses, and inns. The water’s surface mirrored the young leaves encircling it under radiant evening light, while the lake’s heart lay utterly still, suffused with the essence of a realm apart from human affairs.

This small lake bore a vulgar name; to utter its vulgar name would have felt like defiling hallowed ground. Of the two ancient temples facing each other across the water, that upon Higashioka was known as Saifuku-ji. Sacred pines and cedars—their towering forest stood solemnly, veiling temple halls and pagodas in venerable majesty. Three or four villagers carrying baskets emerged from a corner of the woods—whether gathering mulberry leaves or plucking tea buds—and made their way down before Saifuku-ji. Ochiyo returned to her northern village of Kitatani, while Shōsaku and Otoyo took rooms at a lakeside inn.

The two of them, so overwhelmed by pressing, painful problems looming over them that they could scarcely move, had now forgotten those troubles and found an evening's respite there. Like a ship that had escaped a storm to enter port, like waters from raging rapids finding calm in scant eddies between rocks, the two found an evening's reprieve there.

A person filled with leisure may find themselves unable to appreciate the true essence of leisure. Those in circumstances devoid of leisure can first properly sense the essence of leisure when they discover even a sliver of it.

Having soothed the day's weariness with a bath, the two stood on the second-floor veranda facing the secluded depths of another world—a gentle young man and an elegant beauty; they were by no means a pitiable pair now.

When one found respite in their being, their thoughts inevitably detached from themselves. “Otoyo-san, this view is rather splendid, isn’t it? Shall we go down for a closer look? If we view it from the other side, I’m sure it’ll appear quite fascinating.” “Yes, I think so too. Let’s hurry down and see it before the sun sets.”

Otoyo replaced her hairpin with gold-plated prongs adorned with ruby beads, adjusted her obi sash, and quickly tidied her appearance. A plump twenty-seven or twenty-eight-year-old maid entered carrying a tea set. She expressed gratitude for the tea money and bowed courteously. "I've brought freshly brewed tea—please help yourselves..." "Ah, we'll go down now to walk around the lake." "So the two of you are staying here together... Well now." The maid poured tea while stealing sidelong glances at Otoyo's appearance. Otoyo paid no heed to the maid, retrieving a rustling haori lined with Kai silk and helping Shōsaku into it. When Shōsaku fumbled with tying the haori cords, Otoyo silently undid them and retied them properly. Her movements carried refined grace and dignity. The maid—whether genuinely moved or merely making polite conversation—

“How enviable this is.” “Ahahaha... To think today I’ve become someone worth envying.” Otoyo again poured tea for Shōsaku herself, took a sip of her own, and the two immediately descended to the lakeside. “Which way shall we go?”

“Whichever way we start from would be the same, but you shouldn’t face into the sun, Shō-san.” “Right, right. Then let’s start from the west side.” The three people who had been fishing from a box-like, remarkably small boat that had ventured several yards from shore had disappeared without trace. The lake water showed not a single ripple. Putting aside for now the question of how they could be together, the two had now become people who, in the midst of making love their very life, found themselves reveling in a leisure that forgot love. This might indeed be what true leisure meant. It was as if the two had slipped free of their humanity and melted into nature.

In the depths of the evening haze came voices of people stirring and echoes of striking sounds. The village and young leaves all blurred their colors hazily, while the chill lake surface lay desolate awaiting night.

“Otoyo-san, that was delightful. It’s truly been ages since we’ve enjoyed ourselves with such lighthearted feelings.” “Shō-san, I truly feel the same way. Tonight, somehow, it feels like the world has grown so much vaster.” “Exactly. Until now, we’ve each been handling ourselves on our own—but now we’re not thinking about ourselves at all; instead asking ‘What’s interesting? What’s fun?’—finding amusement in the world around us instead.” “Ah—the inn’s lantern is lit! Otoyo-san, let’s hurry!”

Love was ultimately foolishness; given even slight support, it immediately made one want to die; when slightly satisfied, it made one forget everything at once. Even a person of prudence and insight, once they fell in love, could not avoid making a fool of themselves. That night, the two were simply happy and amused, and without discussing their future, they ended up falling asleep. By the time Ochiyo arrived the next morning, they had at least decided that Shōsaku would first go to Tokyo alone and that he would depart mid-month. Otoyo had long been considering whether to let Shōsaku go alone or to accompany him herself, but in the end, she had concluded that the two departing together would be unwise.

Twelve

The man referred to as Hazure no Danna was a maternal cousin of Otoyo's mother named Azami. Being fond of helping others and skilled in conversation, he often mediated disputes. He was said to be a cheerful and perceptive man—short, round-faced, and stockily built. Ever since the Saitō marriage proposal incident, having heard how that stubborn old man at the Tsuchiya household kept raging uncontrollably, they had wanted to somehow intervene in the matter. However, since Otoyo's personal affairs weren't publicly acknowledged matters, even relatives couldn't broach the subject openly. Then, once Shōsaku's family's true feelings became fully known, Ochiyo—unable to let things remain unresolved indefinitely—grew anxious and sent Sasuke to implore Azami for help. Azami promptly came that very evening. Being relatives on close terms, it naturally began with sake. The patriarch was just the right drinking companion for him; Azami held back the second cup that was poured,

“Now then—I came today with something particular in mind, so I’d best speak my piece before we get too deep into drink.” “Auntie—Auntie! I’ll need you here too to listen in properly! Ochiyo-san—go fetch Auntie at once!” Otoyo’s mother bowed in acknowledgment of their shared worries and settled into place. “This concerns your own child—we can’t rightly discuss it unless both parents are present.”

Azami’s words were carefully crafted. He insinuated the underlying intention of not leaving the father to struggle alone. “Now then, Mr.Tsuchiya—I heard the gist from Sasuke-san this morning—what exactly do you intend to do about Otoyo-san?” “It’s nothing. Having an unfilial child has made me unable to show my face in society—my scolding just dragged on a bit.” “No—Azami-san, I’ve truly lost all dignity before you.” “Mr.Tsuchiya, since you’re such a logical man, I’ll argue some logic tonight too.” “Personally I hate logic, but with a logician like you, I’ve no choice.” “Mother, pour more drinks… As for me—I won’t leave tonight until this is settled, even if we brawl—so let’s discuss this properly.”

Azami thought that rushing matters with stubborn old Mr.Tsuchiya would prove futile. “Mr.Tsuchiya, I can’t for the life of me understand why you’d feel ashamed before me.” “What’s shameful about refusing Saitō’s proposal? Truth be told—since he asked me to mediate—I wanted this match to work out myself.” “But if the person herself says she dislikes it, that’s where matters end.” “There’s nothing odd about refusal—no disgrace nor nonsense in that.”

“No, Azami—if we’d simply turned Saitō down, I wouldn’t feel any shame at all.” “It’s shameful because secret depravity prevailed while proper parental considerations couldn’t take hold.” “As you well know, she wasn’t an unfilial child, but...” “Wait a moment. "You casually throw around words like ‘frivolous’ and ‘unfilial,’ but that part I still don’t grasp." “Why call Otoyo-san unfilial? Otoyo-san remains filial—it’s not just my opinion, society agrees.” “In my view, you’re the one being unfilial toward your child.”

“How can someone who selfishly persists in defying your parents’ words not be unfilial?” “Assuming that what parents say—meaning your own words—are infallibly correct is precisely what leads to grave errors from the start. It seems even Confucius himself never declared children must never oppose their parents under any circumstances. No matter how much you’re their parent, trying to bend even your child’s very body to your whims is unreasonable. What’s more, matters between men and women can’t be compelled through parental authority—this has been an unchanging natural law since the age of the gods, remaining true even today when people can converse across a hundred miles.”

“What do you mean? If that isn’t indecent, then it’s perfectly fine! Because she engages in indecent behavior and persists in her selfishness, it’s outrageous!” “Still going on about that? For a man who prides himself on logic, you’re being an uncomprehending old fool. That’s precisely why I say you’re being unfilial toward your child. Every living creature protects its young—yet you lack even the intention to shield your own.”

“That’s not true.” “You can deny it all you want, but you’re doing exactly that! You don’t even try to see your own child properly—insist on viewing her in the worst possible light—and driven by your own stubborn mindset, you’re trying to force Otoyo-san into becoming some wanton creature! What a truly spiteful person you are!”

This remark left even the old man somewhat defeated. Though inwardly conceding defeat, he remained the sort who'd sooner let his tongue rot than voice agreement. Visibly distressed now, his hand trembled faintly as he poured himself another drink alone. "Well, another round?" he offered Azami the cup. "Now Mr. Tsuchiya—depending how you see it—all relations between men and women could be called indecent. What makes them decent or not lies solely in one's state of mind." "Who cares about surface appearances? You're the true master of indecency—swaying your judgments over trifles, wavering this way and that." "Compare that to Otoyo-san—resolved to stand by her chosen man with steadfast devotion, even ready to be disowned by her parents. Why, I told my wife about it and we both marvel at her strength."

“That’s an outrageous mistake!” The old man released a strained smile across his sweat-beaded face. Otoyo’s mother slightly parted her lips. “Azami-san, our Otoyo truly seems pitiable now.” “She keeps saying she wants to mend Father’s mood.” “Now Mother—since Fukada’s household insists they’ll secure Shōsaku’s livelihood—we should properly send him there soon.” “You’ve no objections, have you Mother?”

“Well... If our household consents...” “Mr. Tsuchiya, please stop dwelling on logic and leave this matter to me." “The young couple naturally have no objections—nor does Mother—meaning only you’d be raising objections here as the old man. That’s hardly proper. Come now—leave this matter cleanly to me.” The old man poured himself another drink alone, then offered the cup to Azami. “How about it, Mr. Tsuchiya… Is there something about Shōsaku that displeases you?” “While some may speak ill of him, if you judge fairly—in this whole village of over a thousand households—there’s no young man as capable as Shōsaku.” “There may be those with talent or learning, but when it comes to capable young men who’ve won favor—that fellow’s beyond reproach.” “Even at Fukada they deeply regretted it—apparently had quite a dispute after Shōsaku left—the old man insisted they should look after him no matter what.” “All of this—since Shōsaku left Fukada for Otoyo-san’s sake—means her resolve to be disowned by her parents ain’t some frivolous matter.” “Why, even Saitō himself—when I met him t’other day—”

“No—far from being angry, I lost one person to death and had another leave me, so I was actually hoping to find a woman who would commit to me so resolutely. If anything, I genuinely admire Otoyo-san’s spirit.” “How about that? For parents these days to call their own child shameless and indecent—there truly exist some merciless parents in this world.” “No—Mr.Tsuchiya, don’t take this the wrong way.” Azami, having said his piece, looked at the old man’s face. He took a drag from his pipe. The old man did not utter a word.

“Well? Still won’t entrust this to me? We’ve exhausted all reasoning—let’s set logic aside. If you mean to cast out a child who won’t bow to parental decrees, then let this Azami take her in.” “Come now, Mr.Tsuchiya—give me some response!” “Very well, Azami—since you press this far, I’ll yield it to you.” “I do mean to entrust it, but require you to fashion some proper explanation regarding my standing as a parent.” “This vexes me—what manner of explanation could you need? Between true parent and child, let’s not complicate matters so. Please, Mr.Tsuchiya—simply leave this affair cleanly in my hands without conditions.” “If you demand Otoyo-san’s apology, I’ll have her make it however you wish.”

“Please, master, show some mercy now.” “What do you know? Shut your mouth!”

Azami too had been feeling his irritation boil up from earlier due to the prolonged back-and-forth and the unpleasantness akin to driving nails into stone. The frustration became unbearable, and the alcohol’s haze had completely lifted. “Enough already, Mr.Tsuchiya—just say yes and be done with it!” “What exactly do you mean by ‘logic’?” “Logic remains logic—as long as my dignity as a parent stands.” “To completely crush a parent’s logic and let a child’s selfishness prevail…”

Azami's face visibly transformed. The sound of tapping the ash tray rang out particularly sharply. After leaning back for a moment to look down at the old man, “Hmm, you’re just going on about your own dignity.” “What about my dignity? What do you intend to do about this Azami’s honor?” “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 quietly in the adjacent tatami room. Azami began retreating, but—

“Before I go, I’ll say one last thing.” “Relatives? What fucking relatives! Close ties? Worthless as a loofah! Enough with your selfish talk! Today’s the last day—I’ll never set foot in this damn house again!” Azami roughly pushed aside those restraining him and stormed out.

“Mr. Azami, this won’t do—please don’t be angry. Whatever becomes of Otoyo’s situation, please calm yourself and return inside.” Ochiyo clung desperately and would not release her grip. Azami finally returned to his seat; the old man looked up at him, “You flew into quite a rage there.” “I didn’t come here to quarrel either—let me take my leave properly.” Azami’s theatrical ploy proved masterful—the matter was finally settled. Otoyo would wait two years for Shōsaku’s sake; should he fail to establish a household within that time, she would henceforth submit entirely to her father’s will, never again voicing her own desires—onto the document her father had drafted stating these terms, Otoyo pressed her thumbprint, and they began drinking anew. The household’s atmosphere transformed abruptly, as though every festival and New Year had arrived at once.

Thirteen Azami swallowed everything wholeheartedly, and the matter was settled without formalities. They decided to let the two marry while sending Shōsaku to Tokyo; since they wouldn’t be living together regardless, out of deference to Seiroku’s standing, it was agreed they would hold the wedding celebration in Tokyo after Shōsaku had secured a proper home. Sasuke visited Shōsaku’s household one night, laying bare his no-nonsense disposition as he and Shōsaku’s elder brother drained two shō of sake together and even danced with Ohama. The elder brother cherished Sasuke’s vigor, their conversations flowing with remarkable harmony.

“No matter how much your father kicks up a fuss, he can’t keep the two of you apart.” “If they still won’t listen, we’ll just have to steal Otoyo-san away.” “After all, swindling or stealing from big shots doesn’t count as a crime!”

“Well, once the old man’s stubborn string snaps loose a bit, then it’s all smooth sailing after that.” “Lately I can talk with Otoyo so easily it’s almost strange, I tell you! Ha ha ha ha!” The sound of Sasuke’s “Ha ha ha ha” laughter echoed deep in one’s ears. Shōsaku escorted the drunk Sasuke to Naritō around midnight. Shōsaku stayed at the Tsuchiya house for about ten days before his departure. Once Otoyo’s father met Shōsaku, he became extremely fond of him. Naturally, Otoyo too became unbearably adorable. The change in her was so drastic that she was being laughed at by the household members.

＊　　　　　　　　　　　＊

＊　　　　　　　　　　　＊

Shōsaku boarded the train from Narutō, leaving behind his hometown’s summer—the peak silkworm-rearing season just before rice planting. From the Tsuchiya side came Otoyo’s father and Otoyo. From the Kote side came Shōsaku’s mother bringing her two grandchildren, and Ohama too arrived to see him off carrying a furoshiki bundle. Otoyo naturally intended to accompany him all the way to Chiba to see him off, but when the train began to move, Ohama—who had evidently purchased a ticket in advance—suddenly clambered aboard.

As the train passed Hyūga Station and approached Yachimata, Ohama began weeping uncontrollably, crying without restraint despite her own efforts to stop. This proved nearly impossible for both Shōsaku and Otoyo to manage. Even had someone asked why she wept so bitterly, there could have been no coherent answer. The truth was that on the night before departure, Ohama had entered Shōsaku’s sitting room wearing an expression of fierce resolve, “If you’re going to Tokyo, Shō-san—please take me with you.”

That was what she had said. Shōsaku casually— “Hmm, wait until I establish my livelihood—once I do, I’ll definitely take you with me.” Ohama withdrew as she was, but it seemed she had been crying even then. Shōsaku had somewhat noticed Ohama’s demeanor, but since it was something he could do nothing about, he had kept it to himself without telling Otoyo—yet now, on the very day of departure, this tragedy came to pass.

“This is too embarrassing in front of others. Ohama, please try to quiet down a little.” Being strongly urged by Otoyo, Ohama pressed both sleeves against her mouth, struggling not to let out a sound. The anguished sobs she tried to suppress—their very faintness only deepened the sorrow. Shōsaku felt stronger pity than reproach for her clumsiness. Though Otoyo’s heart held some doubts that kept her from immediately sympathizing with Ohama, she couldn’t help being moved by the truly sorrowful sound of Ohama’s weeping. There was nothing else to do; they got off at Sakura.

Having secured a room deep within the inn, the three decided to rest until the next departure. Ohama prostrated herself before them and apologized profusely. “I never intended to do such a thing—I ended up making this clumsy scene without thinking—and I truly have no excuse,” she said. “Otoyo-san... please don’t take this to heart.”

The thing was, Ohama had lived in Shōsaku’s household since the spring when she was thirteen, and over nearly four years they had grown close, spending days together innocently without reserve. Though Ohama considered it a hopeless matter, before she knew it she had come to think of Shōsaku. Yet toward Shōsaku—who had Otoyo in his life and whom she had served like an elder sister—she had never held any concrete intentions. It was simply that, overwhelmed by the sorrow of sudden parting, she had unwittingly performed this clumsy act.

Shōsaku, inherently kind-hearted, found himself unbearably filled with pity when he perceived Ohama’s innermost feelings. Yet being subjected to Otoyo’s unbecoming suspicions was also painful, “Otoyo-san, please don’t doubt her—I swear to God Ohama has done nothing wrong. Even though she’s made such a needless scene, I can’t help feeling terribly sorry for her. Even after I’m gone, please don’t take offense and keep watching over Ohama as you always have.”

Otoyo was already hugging Ohama and crying. This was the Ohama who had been her staff of life during that sorrowful time when her jewelled cord of existence had nearly snapped. Were this any other matter, this was an Ohama she would have comforted even at the cost of her own flesh. The sorrow that filled Otoyo upon understanding the root of Ohama’s grief defied any novelist’s pen. The three boarded the train again. Shōsaku conceived a desire to do something for Ohama. “Otoyo-san—I want to do something for Hama. What would be good?”

“Hmm... Ah, yes! Give her your watch.”

“I see—if I’m going to Tokyo, I won’t need a watch. This one’s compact enough for a woman to carry.” The station worker called out “Chiba! Chiba!” The two of them grew flustered anew. Shōsaku gritted his teeth, “We’re getting off here.”