Pathway to Japanese Literature

It was a cloudy August day.
To one side lay the sea, with a hook-shaped series of mountains beyond it; between them stretched flatlands through which trains connected to the vast blue plains of distant provinces. Over this moderately large town's sky on this day hung an uncharacteristically dull greenish air.

Where the great river met the sea, fierce roaring arose.
Up to its fan-shaped delta, the great river lay perfectly smooth, appearing as a uniformly gray, motionless dead object that showed no sign of movement or force. Yet once it made contact with the sea's boundary line, white waves surged upward along its entire stretch. Then—when viewed from afar—just as these began collapsing, a sound that would have surely been terrifying if heard up close echoed like distant thunder.

Nevertheless, since this natural phenomenon repeated itself day after day in exactly the same manner, it no longer made any impression upon the townspeople.
On a quiet cloudy day, when one gazes down upon thousands of roof tiles stretching into the distance—among which larger shrines and temples tower here and there—an overwhelming sense of peace inevitably arises.
That the backdrop of that rough sea does nothing to mar this impression of peace strikes one as rather strange.
This must be because, in the end, familiarity wears away one's capacity for wonder.
Even a person devoid of religious sentiment, upon beholding this peaceful panoramic view, would surely feel compelled to pray to something.

This peaceful city, however, was not entirely at rest.
Beyond the violent roar of the outer sea, there still existed the town's own pulse.
What it was—that something—was the train racing across those flatlands.

Abruptly, a massive object took shape at the mountain's spur.
It abruptly sounded a warning steam whistle.
When one saw it charging forward heedless of onlookers with that clattering din, the impression was less of mechanical force and more of some living creature's motion.
Abruptly it reached the train station.
It sounded its whistle.
It stopped.
People exited from the station grounds.
These activities occurred fourteen times daily as round trips, yet compared to that great river's struggle with the sea, this movement left a richer impression of vitality—indeed, it was this that imbued the peaceful town with a singular pulse of living energy.

The distant sea, the great river, the town's rows of houses, and the trains—all appeared to be spending this cloudy August day in peace.

Yet on a slightly elevated spot not far from the train station stood a single tenant house.
A young boy would sometimes climb onto that roof.
Yet no one paid any particular attention to this boy.
This was because no one had closely observed his actions since morning.
Had anyone done so, they might have found it somewhat peculiar.
The reason was that this boy hadn't merely climbed onto the roof just once.
Around ten in the morning, he had climbed up again.
He had climbed up again at noon.
And he had climbed up again past two o'clock.
A more observant person should have noticed these times were not at all coincidental.
This was because those very hours marked when the Tokyo train arrived at this town's station.
In other words, this boy held some vested interest in the trains arriving here.
Could it have been mere fascination with watching their gradual approach from afar?
Or was there someone aboard these trains who strongly captured his attention?

However, this action of the boy's failed to attract anyone's attention at all.
That is to say, even if someone had seen the boy climb onto the second-story roof, they dismissed it entirely as a meaningless prank unworthy of serious consideration.
Had someone overlooking this quiet town noticed this, they would have surely delighted in him as a kind of picturesque figure.

In reality, it was by no means such a carefree matter.
For that boy, this act of climbing onto the second-story roof—a seemingly comical prank to others—was in fact a matter of grave consequence.

The house where the boy climbed onto the roof was located beside a small river and had a black wall encircling it.
The building was old, yet somehow had a generous layout, and the garden was spacious.
The rear was bordered only by an extremely sparse fence along a small stream, but there zelkova, oak, cherry, and fig trees grew thickly clustered, while beneath a low grape arbor stood a chicken coop from which the constant clucking of hens could be heard.

The aforementioned second floor remained poorly visible behind the large ginkgo and persimmon trees, but the boy climbed over its railing onto the main house's roof, circled around to the front side, and seemed to reach the second-story roof without difficulty.

Under the fig tree, two or three neighborhood children had gathered and were teasing a turkey.

“There, I’m gonna chase you!” said one of the boys.

Suddenly, a cry arose.
A girl of about eight, chased by the turkey and unable to escape, tripped, whereupon the aforementioned turkey pecked at the child’s foot.

The maid came out from the kitchen.
Then a beautiful girl of about ten (the house's youngest daughter), startled by the crying, also came out.

“Oh, you stupid turkey!” she called out.
And in a precocious tone, she said to the children, “You mustn’t tease little ones.”

The maid came to the aid of the fallen girl.
The manservant came out and drove the turkey into the coop.

“The grapes are starting to turn red,” the manservant muttered to himself.

“It’s definitely true.”
That’s what the house’s daughter was saying.

“That’s a lie,” said one of the boys.

So then, the daughter turned her attention toward the maid.

“Hey, O-Saku, it’s really true.
A salmon came up this river this morning, you know.”

“It’s certainly true, young lady.”
“It’s the second time this year.”

“There's no way a salmon would come to such a small river.”
“That’s a lie,” the boy answered stubbornly.

“Oh, it's true.”
“Then go ask anyone you like.”
“I wouldn’t tell lies.”

“That one must have wandered here somehow.”
“And everyone made a big commotion, but it was too late,” the maid explained.

An elderly man with a magnificent white beard was in the front garden, dipping a brush in water and washing the leaves of a Japanese rohdea.
The old man, bending at the waist and performing this task with composed diligence, was clearly visible through the distant garden greenery.

A slightly plump, beautiful girl of about twenty stood beside him.
She appeared to be casually observing the old man's work.
These scenes were visible to you at the gate in miniature clarity, as though reflected in a mirror.

The little girl from earlier was gazing in that direction when she suddenly raised her voice and called toward the sky.

“You’re gonna get hurt!
“Grandpa’s gonna scold you!”

Just at that moment, the boy climbed onto the second-story roof.
The boy seemed to pay no heed to such calls and continued gazing at one section of the world below.

Apart from this boy's somewhat destructive actions, everyone would think that even within this compact house there was a peace as abundant as the garden's soft green on cloudy days.

However, an extraordinary anxiety filled the boy's chest.
He showed a shadow of gloom on his somewhat pale beautiful complexion and stared fixedly at one section of the world below.

The train arrived at the station.
A sharp steam whistle sent a single blast vibrating through the quiet afternoon air.

After a short while, passengers clad in various fashions emerged outside the station grounds in twos and threes.
From the second-story roof, they appeared as if he could pluck them one by one.

Observing those people appeared to be the boy's most crucial task at that moment. From time to time startling inwardly, he scrutinized each individual with meticulous care.

Five minutes passed... Ten minutes passed... Then, emerging from his tense mental state into the relief of having found nothing amiss, he let out a sigh that loosened his tightened nerves somewhat. With his gloomy expression unchanged, he silently climbed down from the second-story roof and entered the six-mat room on the upper floor that served as his study.

From the second floor, due to the tall trees and the neighboring house’s roof set somewhat apart, the interior of the nearby train station could not be seen.
The boy entered his room on the second floor and breathed a sigh of relief.

This was already the third time since morning. There was still over two hours until the next train arrival. Though there was no need to unsettle himself until then, no matter what he tried, he couldn't settle into anything. So the boy took a pillow from the shelf and flopped down onto the floor cushion.

Desperately……desperately……

Muttering this like a mantra while staring intently at the ceiling, he suddenly stood up, went down the stairs, and when he came back up this time, had one chestnut bun in his hand and another stuffed in his mouth. After finishing the sweets, he flopped back down again. And then he called out desperately……desperately……

Before he knew it, he began nodding off, his mouth slightly open and both hands resting on his chest as he started to sleep.

Then suddenly a mountain village entered his dream. A lonely mountain road held a small trickling stream, with a thick cedar tree standing blocking the path. When he had walked that far, he suddenly remembered one thing and was greatly shocked—it was that he had forgotten to submit his answer sheet for the summer exam. What's more, this answer sheet happened to be a peculiar thing—a drawing. Growing extremely worried, he sat down at the cedar's roots and pondered what to do. Though lingering here like this would be pointless, and though reluctant, he resolved to go back now and request a make-up exam from the office staff. When he hurriedly ran about half a ri, gasping for breath, there stood the village office.

When he quietly made his way toward the kitchen, there was a janitor who wouldn’t respond no matter what was said.
Convinced they had already noticed him, he then felt his limbs go numb as if paralyzed and couldn’t bring himself to go to the front reception.

Even so, when he pulled himself together and went to the village office’s entrance, there unfortunately was Mr. Nozawa—the teacher he had feared most back in elementary school.
When he explained his situation to him, Mr. Nozawa made a sarcastic remark too cutting to bear.
Then at that moment another realization suddenly surfaced in his mind—
the thought that Mr. Nozawa knew his most closely guarded secret.

He gave up, thinking it was no use, and hurriedly left the entrance.

Then the space abruptly became a long narrow room.
It resembled a temple monk's kitchen.
Yet it was also the school janitor's room where a one-eyed janitor from a Tokyo middle school dwelled.
On the desk lay heaped papers - all exam answer sheets.
Among them were numbers written with meticulous precision in square formations.
These were arithmetic answers.
Ah - seeing how accurately everyone else had written their answers made him nauseous.
There were some answer sheets bearing drawings too.
They looked like sketches of plaster statues.
Ah - he felt sick again seeing how skillfully all the others had drawn theirs.

The scene abruptly shifted further.
It was unclear where exactly, but there stood a bulletin board like those before village offices, with people's names written on it.
Among them was the name Nakazawa Yosaburō.
Ah, he thought that person must have passed.
Then Nakazawa-kun came and smiled at him with excessive friendliness.
Seeing that smiling face filled him with revulsion.
There were various other names too, but he couldn't tell if his own was among them.
Yet within them was one name that left an especially deep impression.
That was the name "Shikata Isao".
He started.
Because he felt certain Shikata must be here.
He resolved to flee before being spotted.
When he began quietly turning toward the back entrance, at that very moment he found Shikata.
And he cried out sharply—...

“I’ll tell Father everything!”
Such a voice from Shikata came from behind…

“Brother, are you still sleeping?” At that very moment, he heard a gentle voice.

The clock struck four.

After a short while, he finally calmed his mind.
The exams had long been over.
There were no pending exams like drawing.
In this manner, he had gradually grown reassured—but when his thoughts eventually turned to the name Shikata, he realized all that reassurance had been hollow.

“Yae-chan, that was four o’clock just now, right?”
The younger sister answered,“Yes, four o’clock.”
“Tell Brother he really must get up now.”

Despite this exchange, he did not rise.
In reality, his limbs felt numb, and he couldn't manage to sit up.
His entire body was drenched in sweat.
His breathing felt labored.
As if recovering from a high fever, he simply couldn't sit up.

He dozed off again slightly.
Then the suffocating feeling grew even stronger.
He could neither stay still nor stand... An indescribably unpleasant sensation—as if he had reached the edge of the world—assaulted every one of his senses.

Suddenly, a cheerful voice rang out.
“Tomiyuki, what’s wrong with you? You'll catch cold—it's chilly today.”

It was the voice of his sister Otsuna.
Otsuna stood by his pillow as always, wearing a shabby, mousy Awa-chijimi summer kimono.
“The somen noodles are ready—come downstairs and have some.”

The boy recalled a novel he had once read called "Yukino Kiyoshi."

His sister continued speaking.
“Is that friend of yours really coming today?... Mother said we could let him stay here tonight if needed.”

Tomiyuki started at these words
and said in a fluster:
“Sister, it’s better not to have him stay here.
Even if you call him a friend—he’s someone from a much higher grade than me. I barely know him.
And... I don’t even like him much.
He’s in a higher grade... I don’t really know him well enough...”

He repeated the phrase “since I don’t know him well” with particular emphasis.

“But since he’s gone to the trouble of coming all this way… You don’t need to be so reserved about having him stay here.”
“Even if Mother is resting，your sister can take care of at least the meals.”

"But Sister, he's someone much older than me."
"Because he's already over twenty... and besides, I don't really know him that well..."
"Anyway, you get up now and wash your face."
"And have your afternoon snack."

Sister went downstairs.
The boy remained lying down and thought about various things.
And

Desperately……desperately……

he muttered to himself.

The clock was past four-thirty.
There remained about an hour until the next train's arrival.

The boy stood up.
At that moment, he nearly voiced aloud the cry that erupted within his heart:

"I will die to atone!"

"Dear Sir, While summer's heat grows ever more severe, I trust your esteemed self finds pleasant respite. I imagine you passing delightful days amidst radiant scenery with your compassionate parents and gentle sisters. This humble writer wishes to spend approximately one month summering in your esteemed locale, hence I most humbly request you might arrange suitable lodging—preferably not an inn—in the town's outskirts beforehand. Rest assured even self-catered accommodations would prove entirely acceptable..."

About two weeks ago, Tomiyuki suddenly received such a letter from Shikata.
At that time, merely seeing the name on the envelope stirred a sense of unease within him, leaving him disinclined to read its contents.
Even so, when he opened the envelope and skimmed through its contents, his anxiety only intensified.
He couldn't muster the courage to read it thoroughly.
Just knowing that he was coming filled his chest to bursting.

Some time later, on August 3rd, a postcard arrived stating he would be coming to your area and requesting guidance.

As for why this anxiety existed... he was afraid to answer it himself.
He tried as best he could not to think about that matter.
Yet it remained incomplete—fragmented memories kept surfacing in his mind.

At one time, he had been made to carry Shikata's hakama while walking along the park-side road in Yokohama during the Foreign Baseball Game.
At that time, Shikata—face flushed with drink—strolled down the avenue in disheveled manner, appearing to take pride in bossing about the beautiful boy Tomiyuki...

Another time... on the day of the Sumida River Boat Race... he had been struck hard in the face by one of Shikata's friends and made to bleed from his nose.

There were many other memories he was afraid to recall.
And when these associations ventured into the forbidden garden of his incomprehensible memory realm, they would evoke an intense discomfort—like hearing the grating of a saw's teeth or a needle probing a decayed tooth—thereby automatically halting any further progression.

There was yet another vague anxiety.
This belonged to his realm of fantasy—yet the very fact that he entertained such fantasies caused him unbearable agony in his self-awareness. For in Shikata's letter had appeared the phrase "your gentle sisters" among other things.
That was what troubled him.

Tomiyuki's sister Otsuna had been at a school in Tokyo until March of this year. And Shikata, from the shadows, had known well about Otsuna. Otsuna was twenty-one and beautiful; Tomiyuki thought of her as a divine woman despite being his sister.

The beautiful, divine Otsuna... the ferocious Shikata... This violent contrast in Tomiyuki's mind evoked yet more ominous associations.
Some emerged vividly into conscious manifestation.
Some were pressed below the threshold of consciousness, remaining only as formless unease.

Before summer vacation, Shikata had jested to Tomiyuki: "...My love for you is brotherly love."
It had fallen into perversion due to my own imprudence.
Your love for your sister—this alone is true sacred love...

...Tomiyuki now rose from his light sleep yet again found himself thinking those same thoughts.
His head throbbed—unrelenting—transforming into a mild headache that ached at his temples.
The clock neared fifty minutes past.
The surroundings stayed so quiet he could hear each second’s tick.
At intervals, a turkey cried out as if startled by nothing.

Suddenly, Tomiyuki rested his arm on the desk in the corner of the second floor.
He assumed a posture as though weeping and buried his face in his arm.

"I will die to atone!"
He said in such a small voice.

When Tomiyuki came downstairs after a short while, his father—unusually—was in the eight-mat room that served as the family’s living quarters. His sister and younger sister were there too, and his mother had also risen from bed to join them. When Tomiyuki saw his father's face, he felt anxious that something he was hiding might be discovered. And then he passed straight through that room, went to the kitchen, and washed his face.

He filled the large white Seto-made metal basin with water and washed his face as slowly as possible. He was trying to delay the time when he would have to meet everyone by even a moment. For he thought that if he did so, his father too might perhaps leave his seat.

However, when Tomiyuki came to the eight-mat room, Father was still there. Today he wore an uncharacteristically gentle expression, yet for Tomiyuki this brought no relief from anxiety.

Until now, Tomiyuki's anxiety regarding Father had been about being questioned over exam scores. The fact that their deceased eldest brother had been exceptionally scholarly had long been imprinted on Father's mind, and Tomiyuki was always compared to him.

Father said: "Today your friend from Tokyo is coming, I hear. You must have some idea about the exams."

This statement filled Tomiyuki with intense terror through multiple avenues.
Flustered, Tomiyuki answered without properly considering.
"Even if you call him a friend, he's not a real one."
"After all, he's in a much higher grade... and much older too..."

Of course, Father had never questioned Tomiyuki with intent to torment.
It sprang from genuine paternal concern, but to Tomiyuki, it felt like the lash of a jailer's whip.

Though such anxieties dwelled in Tomiyuki's heart, any stranger witnessing this scene of family harmony would surely have thought pure happiness filled the room—for Tomiyuki's father had abandoned his duties and secluded himself in a room to compile old poetic manuscripts, living like a saint.
Moreover, his mother was so gentle that one might think there could be no gentler mother than her.
The two sisters too were as precious as gods and as lovely as angels.

No one could discern from without the words "I will die to atone" engraved in Tomiyuki's heart.

The 6:25 final train arrived.
Almost simultaneously another train departed from this station.
The trains that gradually approached or receded possessed a vitality distinct from steamships, conjuring visions of nimble beasts.

The sky that had been overcast since morning split open, revealing the evening sun across half its expanse.
Whitish—the sandy road glared with the sun’s reflection, making one imagine how unbearably hot it would surely be tomorrow if the weather cleared.

As they emerged from the station onto the main street, some people abruptly opened their bat umbrellas.
And white fans were simultaneously flicked open, fluttering about before the chests of the crowd.

Between the station grounds and the wide vacant lot extending to the main street stood sparse black-lacquered fences, with patches of young grass sprouting weakly at their base—appearing pallid, as if starved of nourishment.
Rather than properly exiting onto the main street, crossing those fences shortened the path—if only slightly—and thus a section of the low barrier had been broken through and left unrepaired.
Beside it lay gravel heaped like a mountain.

The crowd that had exited the station dispersed along their respective paths when, among them, a man of about twenty-four or twenty-five wearing a white kasuri-pattern kimono and hat—carrying both an umbrella and a large square package that appeared light—kept glancing about uncertainly despite others walking straight ahead with fixed gazes, yet still made considerable progress along the street in one direction.

When he reached where the road branched into several parallel paths, he stopped abruptly.
Looking around, he spotted a small seal-engraving shop at the corner that sold tobacco and assorted sundries.
The young man approached the shop the moment he noticed it.

"Pardon me, might I inquire?"
It was a voice bearing an empty resonance.
As the seal-engraving shop owner halted his small knife and raised his face, the young man asked:
"Might there be a residence of one Mr. Tsuchiya in this vicinity?"

The owner responded coldly, yet not in a particularly bothered manner.
“What Tsuchiya are you referring to?”
“Tsuchiya... The house of Tsuchiya Tomiyuki, a student attending a middle school in Tokyo... I heard it wasn’t too far from the station.”

“I see.”
“In that case, that would be the residence of Mr. Tsuchiya Morizumi, the scholar.”
“Then if you go straight along this road, there’s a postbox at the corner of a stone-walled house. When you turn left at that crossroads corner, you’ll find a small bridge.”
“Please go downstream along that bank.”
“It’s just ahead.”
“It’s a house surrounded by a black fence with a large ginkgo tree.”

“I see. Thank you very much, sir.”

And the young man took his leave.…

There was someone who watched every movement of this young man without blinking.
That observer was none other than the boy on the roof.
He had tracked the young man as far as the corner of the seal-engraving shop.
With the split-second psychology of a child playing hide-and-seek—on the verge of being discovered yet darting away—he tirelessly observed this young man’s every action.

When the young man's figure vanished beneath the eaves of the seal-engraving shop, he was jolted into panic.
What should I do—that young man would reach his own home's gate within five minutes at most.

The boy abruptly descended from the roof.
Moving as fast as he could without arousing suspicion, he hurried out to the garden, slipped on straw sandals, and dashed toward the river.
He had exhausted every strategy and now fled in a desperate bid to buy time.
Along the way, he feared nothing more than accidentally encountering that young man.

The river’s surface was unnaturally bright.
The shore was crowded with boats of amateur fishermen and Black people heading out for evening fishing.
The boy, upon reaching the riverbank, felt relieved and gazed blankly at a portion of the sky.
The sky downstream was stained crimson with dense clouds.

The boy further pondered what to do.
He thought he would put on a nonchalant air and spend another two or three hours.
And he went along the bank toward the fishermen’s quarter.

By that time, that young man had already entered the gate of Tomiyuki’s house.

When the young man saw the gate of this house to his left, he seemed convinced that this was indeed the house.
Despite this, when he reached directly before the gate, he did not attempt to stop but continued advancing resolutely.
But before long, his walking pace slackened.
And he stopped for an instant.
And he walked back, this time stopping again at the gate.
In the next instant, he entered through the gate with a decisiveness entirely unlike his previous demeanor.
Upon entering the gate, through the sparse bamboo fence, the pleasant garden within became visible.
The ginkgo tree that the seal-engraving shop owner had mentioned showed only its densely grown treetops there, hidden by the house’s roof.
Also on the right side there was a small gate.
The gate was open, and beyond it the interior could be seen.
There was a large well, and beyond it appeared to be the kitchen.
A young woman of marriageable age was perched facing away at the edge of the well.

The young man stood at the entrance.
And said, “Excuse me.”
There was no response.
He said it again.
Then an old man with a white beard appeared at the entrance.
The young man felt slightly surprised and adopted a startled demeanor.
And bowed politely.

The old man remained standing at the entrance for a short while without saying anything.
This too seemed to carry an air of unexpectedness beyond his anticipations.
Tomiyuki had stated that the friend coming today was significantly older than him.
However, the old man who had not yet seen the man still believed him to be Tomiyuki's peer.
He now appeared to be a young man who looked quite adult-like.
As the old man was thinking this and staring at the young man, the young man spoke.
“Would this be the residence of Mr. Tomiyuki Tsuchiya?”

The old man too had already turned his mind to other matters at this point. And he said: “What are you—that is, Mr. Shikata? Ah, do come in. Tomiyuki is here as well.—Ah, come this way.” Having said that, the old man left for another room. He appeared to be giving someone instructions.

However, the one who subsequently came to the entrance was indeed that same old man; he guided the young man and led him to a narrow room. The room had walls of black earth, and in the alcove hung a perfectly square hanging scroll. And on one side there was a small garden, connected by a tall fence to the vacant lot in the neighboring shrine precincts.

The sunlight finally slanted, and the evening cicadas clamored noisily for a spell.

The maid brought tea.
However, Tomiyuki did not show his face.

After a short while, the aforementioned old man appeared there.
However, his appearance differed from before; he now wore a haori jacket and hakama trousers.

“Tomiyuki has been waiting for you since this morning,” the old man said abruptly upon entering the room, “but it seems some business came up that took him out. He isn’t here now.”
“I’ve sent someone to fetch him, so he should return shortly.”
“I too would like to speak at length, but as urgent business has come up that I must attend to, I cannot converse for long.”
While speaking with such formality, he took his seat and said, “You seem to be on particularly close terms with my son. How are his grades?”
“You do know his exam results by now, don’t you?”

The young man was slightly perplexed by the unexpected topic.
"I have already received the results."
"Mr. Tomiyuki is not a bad student."

“No—the one who was his older brother—though he had already passed—was quite capable, but Tomiyuki seems too fond of literature and such, and doesn’t appear to do well in mathematics and the like. In the coming age, one cannot become a scholar without proficiency in mathematics and science, but perhaps because I myself lacked skill in mathematics, my son too seems to be poor at it. Well, I ask that you take him under your wing as well.”

The old man kept steering the conversation toward such topics, but eventually said, "In that case, we should have a proper talk tonight," and left.

After the old man left, the young man slightly relaxed his formal posture. Even so, he remained tense, gazing with some discomfort at the scenery photo album.

At that moment came a soft rustle of movement, followed by a voice so quiet it might have gone unheard: “Welcome,” uttered with refined grace. The young man startled and turned to find a beautiful young woman behind him. Hers was the only face he recognized – this was Tomiyuki’s sister. The guest returned a courteous bow. The young woman laid down a folded yukata and murmured, “Please change into this.” After lingering aimlessly for a time, she withdrew once more with elegant composure.

The guest assumed a demeanor as if stirred by some emotion, then returned to gazing at the scenery photo album.

The day finally darkened.
The maid brought a lamp on a bamboo stand.
Yet Tomiyuki still had not come.

When he remained without thinking of anything for a while, the guest was suddenly assailed by an oddly pleasant sensation.
That was a voice.
It was upon hearing "Mr. Isao" called from afar a second time that he clearly recognized it.
Until now, he had never been addressed by his real name as "Mr. Isao."
Therefore, though it was the name most intimate to himself, he had failed to recognize it.

Before long, a gentle elderly mother of around fifty appeared in the garden.
The guest immediately deduced that this was Tomiyuki's mother.

Without any stiff greeting, the elderly woman said, “Well, Mr. Isao, where could Tomiyuki have gone? He’s been waiting for you so eagerly since this morning. Did he perhaps think you weren’t coming today? He never goes out in the evening or anything like that—I’ve sent a servant to fetch him, so he should return soon. In the meantime, since the bath has been drawn, please go ahead and take one,” she said.

The guest stood up.
And putting on garden clogs, he followed the old woman.
In his heart, a feeling resembling gratitude arose.

Tomiyuki had gone out to the fishing town during that time, but with nowhere else to pass the hours, he stopped by a shop selling fishing gear.
The son there was his elementary school friend.
As they had not seen each other for a long time, a mutual reserve lingered between them, and the two exchanged sentimental reminiscences in somewhat formal tones.
The young man called Tomekichi had been engaged in the fishing industry since childhood, but last year he encountered a storm and was shipwrecked, and after witnessing his elder brother perish aboard the same vessel before his very eyes, he resolved to quit that profession.
The two talked about such things, and then on days when the sea was calm, they would discuss going out on the boat without fail—taking casting nets, fishing gear, and the like.

The lights of the houses gradually brightened, and the narrow riverside streets of the fishing town took on a suitably bustling aspect.
Between the houses, where the surface of black still water became visible and faint lamplights from the village on the opposite bank flickered into view, he found himself thinking anew of how beautiful his hometown was, feeling an emotion tinged with a kind of sweet sorrow arise within him.
There were those who sang old songs passed down along with the town's legends.

A steamship coming down the river made a dull reverberation.
I was struck by a sorrow like that of sensitive youths—a sorrow of unknown origin—and then various fantasies arose until death began to seem something ineffably beautiful.

If I were to die, surely everyone afterward would feel sympathy.
And they would think they had been too harsh on me during my lifetime.
Of them all, Mother and Sister would grieve the most.
The grief of Mother and Sister would be sufficient to mourn my death.
Their tears would be consolation.
Only... having had no reputation whatsoever during my lifetime felt lacking.
If only I had at least been a middle school honor student……

Centering on my own death, associations swarmed like storm clouds before an evening downpour.

While Tomiyuki was thus absorbed in his fantasies, before he knew it, his feet had come to a stop on a small bridge.
The river below flowed directly into a large river there, and because the surrounding views were good, many people had gathered on it.
At that very moment, the sky over the opposite bank was unnaturally red, and a bright yellow full moon hung leisurely where it had just risen from the horizon.

At that moment, Tomiyuki was discovered by the maid who had come to fetch him.

“Tomiyuki-san, I’ve come to fetch you,” said the maid.
“The guest from Tokyo has arrived, and everyone is worried about where you’ve gone.”

Tomiyuki became heavy-hearted there and returned home.

A bright electric light was lit in the eight-mat room below, where Shikata sat alone reading a newspaper.

“Oh, my apologies,” Tomiyuki greeted him, his voice trembling abnormally.

Tomiyuki’s mother came out, gently admonished him, and politely apologized to the guest for her child’s selfishness.
While inwardly thinking there was no need for her to do that, Tomiyuki remained silent.

Already, insects had begun singing in the garden.
There, the dinner preparations were brought in.
It appeared his sister had worked herself to the bone, for an abundance of dishes not ordinarily prepared had been laid out.
Tomiyuki felt sorry for his own sister.
Because she knew nothing, she was working so hard for someone who harbored ill will toward him.
Thinking this, he grew furious at his own unmanliness.
Why haven’t I told Sister everything?
Sister is in danger now.
Knowing this, I cannot save my own sister.
If I were to speak of it, they would learn I have untrustworthy friends, and then the secret I value above all else would be exposed.
Tomiyuki had almost no appetite and, while tormenting himself with thoughts, merely moved his hands mechanically.
Beside him, his sister was serving.
It was as though a pure-hearted nun found herself before a greedy demon in monastic guise.

After finishing dinner, Tomiyuki reluctantly took Shikata out for a walk.
First, they reached the riverbank.
Leaping onto the dark bank, neither spoke a word.

After a while, Shikata broke the silence and spoke a few words, but the conversation remained entirely ordinary.
It was as though both of them saw a certain matter before their eyes yet mutually refrained from laying hands upon it.

A kind of dread constantly surged through Tomiyuki's chest.
He remembered being violently beaten by him on a previous occasion when they had been together like this.

Shikata’s uncharacteristically polite manner of speaking was extremely unsettling to Tomiyuki.

When they returned home around nine o'clock, Father had already come back. While drinking cooled barley tea with sugar added, both Father and Mother went out to the veranda together and talked. Even though it was midsummer, the sound of insects could already be heard, casting an indescribable loneliness.

Tomiyuki's father said,
“With your guidance, I want to make my son into a proper man.
“He’s no fool, but he’s fond of literary things and isn’t strong in mathematics.
“I’ve resolved to forbid all literary studies, but I ask that you instruct him in that vein.”

“In another two or three days, I will leave my parents and die.”
“Unaware of such feelings within me, my parents were worrying about my whereabouts.”
When Tomiyuki thought this, tears nearly welled up in his eyes.

“While he was at this school, my son’s grades were apparently quite good, but ever since going to Tokyo, both last year and this year have been unsatisfactory.”
“Of course, Tokyo gathers top students from all over the country.”
“He might be no more than a bat in a birdless village here, but…”
After saying this, he paused briefly to think. “Well, I suppose his engaging in literary pursuits with friends is what’s most detrimental.”
“It would be best if I went to Tokyo myself to oversee him, but circumstances don’t allow for that… Well, I must leave it to you all.”

Tomiyuki thought that Father’s words would strike Shikata as ironic.

In the end, it was decided that Shikata would stay at Tomiyuki’s house that night.
Sister Otsuna had already laid out two futons in one room and hung the mosquito net.

“You must be tired today, so you should get some rest now,” Mother said.

Tomiyuki was by nature someone who could not fall asleep quickly even after getting into bed at night.
Thus reading books inside the mosquito net had become a habit.
The thought that such freedom would be hindered tonight made him uncomfortable.
That was why he had initially asked them to lay out bedding only for Shikata, but his sister, knowing nothing of his concerns, did not agree.

While trying to convince himself that such a thing was surely impossible, ominous imaginings would nonetheless flash through Tomiyuki’s mind.
To dwell on it felt profoundly immoral, and he tried as much as possible not to think about it.
Therefore I will stay awake all night tonight.
I resolved that this was best.

However, even if the guest were to get up during the night and go to the toilet, there was little need during that time to pass through the rooms where family members were sleeping. Sister Otsuna slept on the second floor. The two of them stayed in the corner room of the new wing downstairs, where when night grew quiet, the sound of the river echoed.

The next morning, Tomiyuki awoke earlier than ever.
No memory of the dream remained, but the lingering discomfort did.

Today I'll guide the guest and take him to that inn.
And I'll confess everything to Sister and quietly set out on a journey.
As long as that man's poisonous eyes are watching Sister, I won't let her go out.

As he thought these things, the forgotten dream from this dawn suddenly returned to him.
A friend named Kondo had whispered into Tomiyuki's ear in a hushed voice, saying it was confidential but he'd tell him:
"When Shikata says he's coming to see you—you know what that means—he's really after your sister."
"You know that man's terrifying."

Shikata said.
“Come on, lend me your kimono, your hat, your shirt too.”
“Listen here—from now on you’ll become me, and I’ll become you, got it?”
“I’ll live at your place.”
“If you don’t like that, I’ll tell your father everything.”
“You claim to be just a child.”
“You’ve even got that business about me taking you sightseeing in Yoshiwara…”

"Today I must carry this out no matter what."
That was what Tomiyuki thought.
"I'll stop short of telling Sister everything—just warn her that man is dangerous and she must be careful.
And since I can't bear staying here any longer, I'll say I'm going on a trip and leave.
I'll disappear into the mountains of some distant province nobody knows, write them a full account from there, and beg forgiveness from Sister and my parents.
Then let me slip from this world unnoticed…"

Such fantasies brought more comfort than sorrow. Until seven o'clock sounded, Tomiyuki kept thinking these thoughts. The pillow's cloth lay damp with tears.

In the morning, Tomiyuki saw off the guest and went along the coast to a small village about half a ri away. An old man had built it for his retirement, died before ever living there himself, and after which it became a detached cottage of a fisherman’s home rented out to summer guests.

Unlike yesterday, the sun blazed down on the sea, the waves, and the grassy shore.

After seeing off the guest and returning home, Tomiyuki lay down in his own room on the second floor with some relief.
Contrary to his morning resolve to depart on a journey immediately, he merely passed time aimlessly.

In the afternoon, Sister worked on her sewing for hours in the room next to Tomiyuki's on the second floor.
There stood a koto, a mirror stand, and two or three books suited for women—hinting at a facet of Otsuna's seldom-seen aesthetic life.
Tomiyuki silently observed his sister's feminine qualities.

Particularly when his sister washed her hair just past the height of the day and tied her thick tresses lightly with straw before coming up to the second floor, though she was his sister, she left Tomiyuki with a potent impression of her womanhood. This very impression ultimately became what instilled in Tomiyuki his dread of Shikata.

When Tomiyuki observed things in this way—granting himself a detached third-party perspective—he came to recognize that a peculiarly dense atmosphere pervaded their household. While his elderly father’s poetic sensibilities and his mother’s feminine gentleness certainly shaped this air, the greater component was in truth Otsuna’s manifestation as a fully matured maiden.

It was on that evening that Shikata stepped into this thick, sinister miasma.

Of course on that day, and the next day as well, Tomiyuki did not set out on his journey.

At the river mouth, a steamship whistle sounded.
Also, several times a day, the rumble of trains resounded at the station.
Each time, Tomiyuki's guts churned.

On the third afternoon, Tomiyuki accompanied Shikata to borrow a fishing boat and go fishing.
And so, as he reluctantly associated with Shikata, he gradually began to notice the change in Shikata’s character.
Unlike when they had met in Tokyo before summer vacation, he had become extremely taciturn.
And he seemed constantly to think about something.
In those inherently sinister eyes of his, a kind of dark light burned.

Moreover, he had adopted a respectful attitude toward Tomiyuki that he had never shown before.
He did not make a single joke.
That perpetually ugly mouth of his remained tightly sealed.
When fishing, he would teach Tomiyuki various things like a junior—baiting hooks and casting lines into the water.
Then he would drift into vacant thought.

The blazing crimson sunset draped itself over the green plain across the shore, where clusters of ginkgo-like and zelkova-like trees jagging along the horizon stood darkened like smoldering embers after a fire.
Golden light rippled across the river's surface.

At that moment, Shikata, who had been silent until now, spoke.
"How about it? Wouldn't it be pleasant to sink into the water right now? Shall we jump in together?"

The tone of these words could not be mistaken for a joke.
Tomiyuki flinched.

After a short while, Shikata spoke again.
"This morning, two female students from Tokyo came to the house next to my lodgings.
They said they intend to cook for themselves.
It seems they're friends of your sister—your sister came to visit them too."

Tomiyuki flinched twice upon hearing this.
Because he felt he could no longer delay.
Yet this marked the first time Shikata had directly mentioned Tomiyuki's sister.
And perhaps it would be the last.

By the time the boat returned to shore, it was already twilight.
As Tomiyuki was taking out various things from the boat, a gentle voice was heard from behind.

“Tomichan, you’re terribly late, aren’t you?”

When he looked, his sister was standing on the shore with the neighboring child on her back.
In the hazy, bluish evening air, that faintly white figure was phantom-like.

“Because you were taking so long, I came to meet you.”

Sister bowed to Shikata and said that to Tomiyuki.

The two of them sent Sister ahead, had one of the fishermen carry the luggage, and followed after.

At that moment, Shikata did not utter a single word.

The fact that Shikata was growing more sullen day by day became clear even to Tomiyuki.
Moreover, his attitude toward Tomiyuki had become completely different from before summer vacation—abnormally courteous, showing not the slightest hint of familiarity.
Especially since going out fishing today, he had hardly spoken at all and seemed to be doing nothing but thinking.

When he saw his sister Otsuna, he affected not to look properly.

But as Tomiyuki observed these mannerisms of Shikata's, he unconsciously sensed something.
That is to say - a dread toward this barbarian whose emotions had been intensely provoked.

When Tomiyuki went to see the lodging where Shikata was staying, Shikata was absentmindedly smoking tobacco.
There were no books.
There were no belongings.
On the desk were only a mirror and cosmetics.
He couldn't imagine how he spent each day.

When he perched on the windowsill, the sea lay immediately visible before his eyes from a slightly elevated hill.
Hollyhock flowers were blooming pale red.

“That’s the house,” Shikata pointed and said.
“The house where the female students from Tokyo came to.”

As for his sister’s friends, Tomiyuki later heard about them from her.
He knew his sister sometimes visited that boarding house.
For Shikata, this was an ideal situation.
So Tomiyuki thought.
“I can’t hesitate any longer.”

That evening on his way back, Tomiyuki found himself accompanying the young son from the fishing household where Shikata stayed—the boy was carting rice bales to town.
There, Tomiyuki asked him:

“Do the guests from Tokyo staying at your place drink alcohol?”

“Yeah, they usually drink in the evening.”

“Do they drink a lot?”

“They went to buy five gō every night, but since it was a hassle, from last evening they bought one shō.”

“Do they drink alone?”

"At first he drank alone, but sometimes he drinks together with my brother."
"And sometimes guests come from the villa."

The villa in question was built on the same plot by people from Tokyo, and every year students come there.

“Do they go to bed early at night?”

“There are times when he doesn’t return until midnight.”

“Do they go toward [town name]—the one with the red-light district?”

“How about that?” he said with a laugh.

“What are you doing all day?”

“What are you doing?”

“Does he stay home all day?”

“He’s usually at home.”

“Does he talk about anything?”

“He doesn’t say anything and just remains silent.”

The conversation didn’t get anywhere.

At Tomiyuki’s house, a single photograph went missing.
It was a photograph of Sister Otsuna taken with her aunt in Tokyo.
Suddenly, Mother tried to mail it to Tokyo and searched for it but couldn’t find it.
However, none of them paid it any particular mind.
Tomiyuki remembered taking out the photo box and showing it to Shikata.
Therefore, Tomiyuki alone firmly believed that Shikata had taken it.

Tomiyuki spent each day tormented by various anxieties yet did nothing but dawdle around the house; one day, resolved to finally confess everything—or at least tell Mother—he ended up unable to speak even then, plunging him into profound anguish.

And he fantasized about running away from home.

Sure enough, there was a spot along the coast where the land formed a cliff.
The road ran along the top of that cliff, and since misstepping could lead to falling into the sea, wooden fences reinforced with wire had been erected in various places.
When peering down from the cliff, several fathoms below grew thick red pines, and between them stretched a vast expanse of blue-green sea.
At times, from where the water lay calm, boats would approach in the evening.
Truly, it was a scene straight out of a bold and vigorous painting.
At times, Western women would even go out of their way to bring their dinghies there and swim discreetly to avoid prying eyes.
When that happened, people would stealthily peer through telescopes at the sea surface and take delight in what they saw.

The blazing afternoon sunlight around four o'clock turned the green of grass, purple of soil, and blue of sea—everything and anything—into pure yellow, with such intensity it seemed intent on hatching the Earth itself.

There, two boys came down from the mountains.

The two boys came onto the small bridge spanning between the roads over the sea when suddenly one of them spoke.

“It’s really deep down from here.”
“If you fell, would you die?”

“That’d definitely kill you,” answered the other boy.
“A person dies before they even reach the bottom.”

“Why would you die before even hitting the bottom?”

“I don’t know why, but they say even if you fall from an airplane, you die before hitting the ground.”

“Would it be like that at Kegon Falls or places like that?”

“With waterfalls, who knows? You’d smash against rocks on the way down.”

“If you die before even reaching the bottom, it probably wouldn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’d hurt.”

The two boys leaned their hands on the bridge railing and gazed deeply into the sea's depths.
The water of the blue-green inlet was so clear that even the rocks beneath were visible.

When they shifted their gaze from there to the bridge they stood upon, they felt a sense of contrast that made their hair stand on end. At the same time, there was a temptation that made one want to leap into its depths.

“Hah!” one boy shouted loudly. The other turned around in surprise.

“Oh, I was startled. What was that?”

“If you jumped down, what do you think would happen?”

“Stop it! Don’t joke about that—you’ll invite evil spirits. I was so startled I almost let go of the railing.”

“If someone bet ten thousand yen, do you think people would jump down?”

“There’s no such thing as ten thousand yen.”

“There might be.”

“Even with ten thousand yen, you can’t make someone die for you anyway.”

“But people jump without getting ten thousand yen.”

“That’s different—they’re pessimists.”

“But what does that feel like?”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“I think I do. Stare down long enough and you start wanting to jump.”

“You’re a lunatic.”
“I’ve often been called a lunatic by people since long ago.”

“Those people are dangerous characters.”

“But if something gives me resolve, I’ll definitely jump in here. If it were seen as benefiting the country or saving people.”

“So you must have what’s called a sacrificial spirit.”

“I’m not boasting about that sort of thing.”

“But they say if you dwell on something, it becomes real.”

“I think it’s beautiful. If you were to fall from here and die, it’d be better than dying of tuberculosis or something.”

“You’re crazy. It’s hot—let’s get going.”

“Look—the water below looks so deep blue.”
“It looks like a water spirit lives down there, doesn’t it?”
“Do you know the song ‘Lorelei’?”

“I don’t know about such literary things.”

“But one can imagine there might be a beautiful mermaid woman down there, don’t you think?”

“Ah, the Seering has come.”
“It must be Westerners again.”

“Do ships only come down here?”

“Ah.”

“What about over there?”

“They don’t go beyond the island.”
“Because of the waves, I suppose.”

“Let’s go over there and see.”

“Let’s stop—my throat’s dry.”
“Let’s hurry home and drink some ramune.”

The two boys left from the bridge.
They had gone to bathe in a waterfall called Fudō Falls in the mountains and just returned.
One of the boys was Tomiyuki, and the one a year older than him was his cousin.
Tomiyuki had forcibly left his father’s house and come to visit his cousin’s hometown.

After the boy had left, two travelers and an empty carriage passed over this bridge.

After that, for a long time no one passed by. The sun had tilted slightly yet still blazed fiercely, illuminating the rock strata, bridge structure, trees, weeds, and the wings of gulls flying low in the sky.

When Tomiyuki first arrived on his trip, he had written detailed letters of confession to his parents and sister, had remained vigilant about his sister's current dangerous situation, and had resolved to cleanse his past sins and defilements through his own death.
Yet those letters proved utterly unwritable.

Suicide—death was a beautiful illusion.
Yet what becomes death's cause does not adorn its beauty.
Though he hadn't grasped this clearly, Tomiyuki found himself inwardly tormented by this contradiction.

If there were a beautiful maiden and someone were to find the world futile and die because a romance with her couldn't be realized—if that were the case, he thought, it would be a beautiful death both for himself and others. But in reality, it was not so. Yet gradually, a woman began to enter Tomiyuki's fantasies. She was from his own town, either his age or perhaps a year older—a beauty.

Two or three years earlier, Tomiyuki had poured boyish affection toward this woman, but now she had reemerged as a vivid image in his mind.
And his death and her beauty gradually became inseparably intertwined.

Next, resentment toward his parents and close relatives began taking root in Tomiyuki's heart.
His aspirations—what might be called his partialities—that is to say, his personal freedoms were all being destroyed by these people's intentions.
This was why he kept startling himself awake with nightmares of failing mathematics exams.
He came to believe he couldn't rely on those nearest to him.

In this way, this self-pitying sentiment rendered his imagined death more rational and imbued it with tragic-heroic grandeur.

The idea of killing himself without explaining his reasons gradually developed, and rather than serving as a means to escape the moral burden he had previously contemplated, it granted him a sense of ease.

Meanwhile, as Tomiyuki embellished his death fantasies and conceived them in manifold ways, ominous premonitions regarding his distant sister assailed him ceaselessly as realistic threats.

As such anguish made Tomiyuki waste away, three days passed, then five.

He had even fantasized about filling a ship with oil, loading it with explosives, detonating it on the night sea, and dying together with it.

Or he considered entering the depths of an unknown cave like Fuji's lava tubes and dying in such a way that even after death, no one would find him.

However, the best method was to die from that cliff overlooking the sea while making it appear accidental.

One moonlit evening, Tomiyuki said to his cousin Kosaku.
“I went to Cape XX last night.”
“It was truly desolate.”

“Last night?”
“Alone?”

“Ah.”

“What did you go there for?”

“To test my courage.”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s true.”

“If you keep doing that, your aunt will worry.”

“I plan to go again tonight.”

“There’s no moon tonight.”

“The darkness makes it even better.”

Unlike his family home, his cousin’s household belonged to a prominent fishing family with constant comings and goings, nights when they scarcely bothered to lock the doors—a situation that allowed him to go wherever he pleased at any hour, granting immense freedom.
Though there was indeed an unsavory district nearby where servants faced reprimands for returning late, as both a youth and a student, Tomiyuki’s movements remained unquestioned by anyone.

The fact that Tomiyuki frequently went out at night had finally begun to draw people’s attention, but the so-called "cultivation of courage" left no room for any questions to arise.

However, when one paid attention, there were many strange things about Tomiyuki’s appearance and actions.

It was the blazing height of the afternoon sun.
A kind of profound silence reigned over the entire seashore, as though the whole area had become utterly void.

Only a single boy could be seen on the beach.
There were no clouds on the horizon.
There were no ships at sea.
All the more reason why the boy was staring intently out over the sea.

There, an elderly fisherman came alone.
The boy said to the fisherman as if he had found some resolve.

"A person hasn't come back from the sea."

The fisherman looked puzzled, as though he couldn't comprehend what the boy had said.
"What's that? A person...?"

"A person went out to sea and hasn't come back."

At the same time as that response, the fisherman shouted.
"He went out to sea and hasn't come back?"
"That's terrible!"

When the fisherman said that, the boy was startled.
And then he suddenly began to cry.

“Who’re you?” asked the fisherman.

“I’m a friend of Tomi-san staying at the house.”

“That’s terrible! — Is there any clothing?”

“The clothes and geta are under that boat.”

“That’s terrible!” the fisherman said for the third time. “You stay right there. I’ll go to your house and call everyone.”

The fisherman hurriedly ran off.

The boy stood on the beach.
He remained there peering restlessly across the sea's surface, wondering whether that black shape resembling a human head might appear.

The sea grew calm again.
Only small waves broke along the shore.

This stillness, however, seemed like the eerie calm that precedes something terrible about to happen.

Suddenly, a group of people came running to the beach.
The beach was suddenly thrown into an uproar.
Even so, without pause, crowds of people kept rushing to the beach again and again.

"They say the guest from Yamanaga's place has vanished at sea."

“Imahama has launched boats.”

“They’ve gone to ask the beach seine crews.”

“They went to search for the women divers, but not a single one was home.”

People discussed these matters as they ran along the road, jostling past one another.

Five or six boats went out to sea.

“Is it around here? Around here?” voices called from the boats.

“They wouldn’t know—there’s currents along the bottom over there,” someone was saying.

Crowds could be seen swarming from the boats and plunging into the water. A net was cast.

The corpse became caught in the net, yet considerable time passed before the fishermen could retrieve it. A blue-cold heavy corpse was hauled up onto the beach sand.

“Don’t stand there!” shouted Yamanaga’s young master.
Then a constable arrived and once again restrained the spectators.

“How about this—it’s too crowded here, so let’s use the back over there.”

“Right. I’ll leave this in your hands.”

The corpse wrapped in a red blanket was carried to the backyard of a fisherman’s house at the seaside.
Even so, crowds of children kept watching from outside the gate.

“There’s no pulse,” the doctor said.
“We’re low on camphor—send someone to fetch more immediately.”
“It’s on the shelf in the pharmacy’s dangerous drugs cabinet.”
“The household will know if you tell them.”
Two or three people dashed out at once.

“Stop hesitating and perform artificial respiration.”
“The navy does it for a full hour.”

“Ah, right!”
“Get Sajiemon’s boy.”
“He’ll know how—navy trained.”

“Quickly lay the body down and fumigate it with pine needle smoke.”

"They've been going on about 'pine needles' since earlier—what should we do?"

"No need for that. He's already expelled all the water."

The doctor pried open the eyelids and pressed a stethoscope to the chest.

"Any hope at all?"

The doctor offered no clear answer.

The servant returned with camphor. Another injection pierced the chest where four or five adhesive plaster marks already bloomed.

"Has the navy arrived? The navy?"

“They’re here! They’re here!”

The man who had been a naval petty officer, unlike the previous men, repeated the artificial respiration with a somewhat pretentious manner.

The corpse retained the shape of a living human yet was tinged bluish-yellow and lay cold and rigid.
A man was soaking thin paper and placing it over the nose and mouth.

In the midst of all this, a little over an hour passed.

“How is he?” the woman asked sadly.

“Hmm,” the doctor replied ambiguously.

Another thick-bearded doctor arrived.
With a smile on his plump, ruddy face, he greeted the previous doctor.
Then he too took out a stethoscope from his coat’s pocket and placed it against the corpse’s chest.
He checked for a pulse, opened the eyelids to examine them, and finally struck the corpse’s chest sharply with his right hand, producing a crisp sound. At the same moment, he declared, “It’s no use anymore.”

That manner, so reminiscent of a black person, became the absolute signal prompting the cessation of all previous efforts.

So the people suddenly stirred into action and set about the next task.

This was the final state of Tsuchiya Tomiyuki, sixteen years old, a second-year middle school student.

The day was August 17th.
It was the day after the conclusion of the Obon festival, observed one month later than usual.

In his hometown, they had not anticipated such an event at all.

(Taishō 4, September)