Pathway to Japanese Literature

Characters.

Kazue — 29 years old

Mutsumi — Kazue's daughter, 6 years old.

Denbei — Kazue's father, 54 years old.

Asa — Denbei's second wife, Kazue's stepmother, 45 years old.

Kiyozō Kanaya — A villager, 34 years old.

Others: Eichi (Denbei and Asa's child, has not returned)

Tetsurō Shima (Mutsumi's biological father; has not returned)

None of them appear.

Setting.

A certain village in the Tsugaru region.

Time.

From late January to February 1946.

Act I

The setting was the parlor of Denbei’s house.
The furnishings suggested a somewhat affluent landlord’s household.
At the rear stood a staircase leading to the second floor.
Stage right contained the kitchen; stage left evoked an entranceway.

When the curtain rose, Denbei and Kazue were warming themselves by the stove in the corner of the room.

The two remained silent.
The wall clock struck three.
An awkward atmosphere hung heavy.

Suddenly, Kazue let out a low, strange laugh.

Denbei raised his face and looked at Kazue.

Kazue said nothing, stopped laughing, and—as if to hide her embarrassment—took two or three logs from the wooden box by the stove and fed them into the fire.

Examining her fingernails as if soliloquizing, she murmured, "They keep saying we lost, we lost—but I don't think that's it at all."
"It perished," she said flatly.
"It collapsed."
Her voice sharpened. "Japan's been occupied from corner to corner—we're all prisoners now, every last one of us—and still these country fools feel no shame! Do they imagine life can just drag on forever like before? Sleeping, waking, eating... gossiping about others while eyeing everyone like thieves—" She laughed again, that low unnatural chuckle. "What on earth are we living for?"
A brittle pause. "It's beyond comprehension."

(Denbei) (smoking) “Well, that may be neither here nor there—but you’ve got some man now, don’t you? A husband, or a lover, whatever you call it—that’s the truth, isn’t it?”

(Kazue) (annoyed) “What’s it to you?”
(Clicking her tongue) “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

(Denbei) “Even if you don’t say it, it finds its way to my ears from somewhere.”

(Kazue) “You don’t need to put on airs—I already know.”
“It was Mother, wasn’t it?”

(Denbei) (slightly flustered) “No—”

(Kazue) (in a hushed, rapid tone) “That’s right—it’s obvious. How did Mother notice again? Foolish Mother.”

Pause.

“I heard it from Asa. But Asa would never... anything...”

(Kazue) (ignoring this and suddenly changing her demeanor) “Where did Mother go?”

“She said she had to go buy cod.”

“Did she carry Mutsumi on her back?”

“That is right.”

“She must be heavy.”
“That child is oddly heavy.”
“She’s gotten annoyingly attached to Grandma—all pleased with herself and clinging on.”

"She’s just like you were when you were little," he said with a solemn expression and forceful tone. "Asa wants the child."

Kazue turned away. "Ridiculous."

"I’m serious," Denbei insisted. "Listen carefully. Last night Asa—with that faint bitter smile of hers—came to me about this properly. She’s given up on Eichi."

"It’s been three years since we last heard from him at the front."

"We know his unit went to defend some nameless little island down south—but whether Eichi’s even alive now? No one can say."

"Asa says she’s made her peace with it."

"You showing up from Tokyo with Mutsumi couldn’t have been better timing."

"But seems you’ve already got some secret man tucked away."

"You’ll go running back to Tokyo soon enough."

"Quit yapping and listen!"

"Do what you want with your life."

"But leave Mutsumi here."

(Kazue lets out another peculiar laugh) “Are you serious? Such nonsense—really, Mother’s gone mad. Has she lost her mind? How absurd.”

(Denbei) “She might have lost her mind. I thought it was absurd too. But she seems genuinely serious about this idea. Even if you return to this—what should I call him—husband or lover of yours now, having Mutsumi along might cause trouble between you two later. You’re still young—you could have more children anytime. Anyway, she insists on keeping Mutsumi here—probably thinks it’s some brilliant plan after all her brooding. She claims it’s best for you too.”

(Kazue) “That’s none of your business.”

(Denbei) “True enough.”
“Undoubtedly meddlesome.”
“But you persist in mocking Asa—”

(Kazue) (cutting him off) “That’s not—that isn’t true.”
“Listen, Father.”
“Don’t they say it’s the parent who raises you that matters, not the one who bore you?”
“My birth mother died when I was younger than Mutsumi is now—Mother here raised me ever since. Even when people later told me she was just my stepmother and that Eichi was only my half-brother, it never bothered me one bit.”
“Step or blood—she’s still my mother. And though Eichi was my half-brother, we got along splendidly as siblings—none of it ever troubled me.”
“But after entering girls’ school, I’d sometimes feel inexplicably lonely.”
“Because Mother’s too perfect.”
“Not a single flaw.”
“However selfish I acted or what mischief I made, Mother never scolded me—just smiled and pampered me like some precious lapcat.”
“No mother could be kinder.”
“Too kind by half—too flawless.”
“Once when I tore off my big toenail, Mother went white as sheet while bandaging it—sniveling as she tended me until I found it revolting.”
“Another time I asked her—‘Don’t you actually love Eichi more than me?’”
“And do you know how she answered?”
“‘Sometimes...’ she said.”
“That sham honesty—that cloying kindness—it made me detest her.”

“She only ever assigned Eichi the most grueling tasks and wouldn’t even let me properly do something as simple as wiping floors, you know.”
“So I got stubborn and decided to be as selfish as I could.”
“I resolved to behave as badly as possible and set my mind on doing nothing but mischief.”
“But I didn’t dislike Mother, you know.”
“I loved her.”
“I loved her so much I wanted to puff out my chest like some proud warrior.”
“Mother must have truly loved me from the bottom of her heart too.”
“Because I was so adorable, she always kept me dressed in beautiful kimonos and apparently never wanted me doing chores like washing dishes.”
“I can understand that.”
“The truth is… (suddenly lets out a strange laugh—‘Ahaha!’) Mother and I were practically like a homosexual couple.”
“So it felt disgusting and hateful and somehow lonely—I wanted to be utterly selfish, do terrible things, and have a huge fight with Mother until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

(Denbei) (scowling) “You’re nearly thirty and still spouting nothing but this nonsense. Can’t you talk a bit more sensibly?”

(Kazue) (calmly) “You’re too insensitive to understand anything, Father.”
“Someone like you—I suppose they’d call you a decent person.”
“You’re utterly unfeeling.”
(changing tone) “But Mother was beautiful back then.”
“I’ve lived nearly ten years in Tokyo and seen all sorts of actresses and society girls, but never met anyone as beautiful as Mother.”
“When I used to bathe alone with her long ago—oh, how happy I was, how embarrassed—even now remembering it makes my heart race.”

“Don’t spew such nonsense before me.”
“So what’s your meaning?”
“You mean to leave Mutsumi here?”

(Kazue made an exasperated face) “Well now—even you’re spouting such absurdities…”

“But there’s a man involved, isn’t there?”

(frowning and looking down) “Is there truly no better way to phrase that?”

“No matter how you phrase it, it’s all the same.” (Struggling to hold back his rising anger) “But you still did something stupid.” “Don’t you?”

(Kazue raised her face and coldly watched her father’s face in silence.)

“You’ve been self-willed and impossible to handle since you were little, but I never thought you’d turn out to be such a fool. You have no idea how much Asa has suffered for your sake. When you graduated from Hirosaki Girls’ School and declared you’d go to a specialized school in Tokyo, I was dead set against it—so much that I fell ill and took to bed. But Asa sat stubbornly at my bedside, begging me through tears: ‘This is my one lifelong request—let Kazue attend the school she wants.’ In the end, I relented. You left for Tokyo as if it were the most natural thing and never came back. I don’t know if he was some novelist or teacher or what, but when you dropped out of school to shack up with that Shima guy, I gave up on you right then—wrote you off as dead. But Asa never said a single bad word about you—hid it from me and kept secretly sending her stashed money your way. Asa was sending you money even by selling her own kimonos. Soon after Mutsumi was born and Shima was drafted, you declared you could live on your own by doing dressmaking or whatever—so you didn’t go to Shima’s parents. No—even if you’d tried, since Shima himself was quite the unfilial son, you couldn’t have gotten along with his family, and by then it was too late to have his parents take in his wife and child. So I thought you’d come crawling to us next—but no. I wanted never to see your face again, so I pretended not to know you—but Asa apparently kept sending you letters urging you to stay here while Shima was away. Yet you acted all high and mighty, sending back a reply about how your dressmaking work kept you too busy to come to the countryside—and just as rumors started circulating that Tokyo was running short on food, Asa began making parcels almost daily to send provisions to you. You took it all for granted without a second thought and barely even sent a thank-you note—but you couldn’t possibly understand how much Asa struggled to send those things.” To ensure they arrived even a day sooner, she always sent them by railway mail, and for that Asa would walk all the way to Namioka Station each time. Namioka Station was nearly four kilometers from here. She walked through winter blizzards. To catch the six o’clock first upbound train, there were times when she would wake while it was still dark and go to the station. She spent every waking moment thinking only of you all. “There’s no wretch as fortunate as you. When you came smirking to this house without warning—claiming you’d been war-displaced in Tokyo—I was appalled you could waltz back so shamelessly. I didn’t even want to speak to you all. But you’re no longer my daughter now—you’re Mrs. Shima, wife of a deployed soldier—so kicking you out wasn’t an option. In the end, I decided to let you stay here in silence, treating you like complete strangers I’m sheltering out of charity.” “Don’t get carried away.” “I have no obligation to look after you all, and you have no right to act selfishly in this house.”

(Kazue looked down but spoke clearly.) “Shima seems to have died.”

(Denbei) “That may be.”
“But the remains haven’t arrived.”
“The funeral hasn’t been held either.”
“You fool.”
“What sort of man is this current husband or whatever?”

(Kazue) “You should ask Mother.”
“Since Mother appears to know everything.”

(Denbei unconsciously clenched his fist) “Are you still saying such foolish things?”
“Asa doesn’t know a thing.”
“You’ve been secretly corresponding with someone; money gets sent occasionally; Mutsumi sometimes mentions this ‘Uncle in Tokyo’—even without Asa, anyone would figure it out.”

(Kazue) “But Father didn’t know either—did you?”

(Denbei) (painfully) "There's no reason I'd ever imagine such a thing—not even in dreams."
(sighing) "Just how low will you keep sinking from here?"

(Kazue) (quietly) "If you won't let us stay in this house, I'll take Mutsumi back to Tokyo."
"The arrangement was that you'd keep us here until spring—during which time Suzuki would secure housing there."

“So his name’s Suzuki—that man?”
(Meekly) “Yes.”
(Sternly) “How many years since you took up with that man?”

(Kazue remained silent)

“Should I not ask?”
“Fine. I’ve heard enough.”
(Suppressing his excitement, quietly, yet with an altered voice) “Get out.”
“Get out this instant.”
“Go anywhere—I don’t care.”
“Just get out.”
“Leave Mutsumi here and go crawl to that man right now!”

(Kazue) (raising her face) “Father, do you have any idea what hardships I’ve endured in Tokyo?”

The sound of the front door opening.

(Asa’s voice) “You were such a good girl! Such a good girl!”
“Even though it was freezing cold out there—not one single tear from my brave girl!”

(Mutsumi’s voice) “And then wasn’t Mutsumi super-duper helpful?”

(Asa’s voice) “That she was! That she was!”
“Carried Grandma’s wallet all through town without dropping it once!”
“Such a big help!”
“My best little helper!”

(Mutsumi’s voice) “So next time too? You'll take me again?”

(Asa’s voice) “‘Course I will! ‘Course I will!”
“Now come get warmed up!”

“Of course I will, of course I will. Come on, let’s unpack.”

They opened the shōji at the lower end, and Asa and Mutsumi entered.
Mutsumi immediately ran over to Kazue and was gathered onto her lap.

(Kazue) (facing Asa and laughing) That must have been heavy.

(Asa) (carrying the basket of fish she bought and the *tsunomaki*—an outdoor blanket used in the Tsugaru region—toward the upper kitchen) “Ah, heavy doesn’t even begin to describe it. It was like hauling a stone Jizo statue on my back.”
(After opening the upper shōji, descending into the kitchen, closing the shōji, then speaking from offstage) “Lately she’s grown so cunning—if I tell her to walk properly, she suddenly pretends to fall asleep. What a troublesome child.”

(Kazue noticed the bundle of sparklers clutched in Mutsumi’s hand.) “Oh, what’s this?”
“What’s going on?”

(Mutsumi) “This is a toy.”

(Kazue) “A toy?”
(Laughing) “What a strange toy.”
“Did Grandma buy these for you?”

(Mutsumi nodded.)

(Asa) (from behind the shoji screen while clattering about working in the kitchen) “Children these days are so pitiable.”
“There’s not a single real toy being sold these days.”
“Mutsumi said she wanted a small Hinomaru flag—it gave me chills.”
“Come to think of it, those flag toys were always at every haberdashery during the war, but now they’ve vanished completely.”
“I’d at least let children play with those flags, but I suppose it’s still impossible.”
“Even Grandma didn’t know how to explain that to Mutsumi.”
(with a low laugh) “The only thing they’ve got plenty of in shops are sparklers.”
“I wonder why that is.”
“Lately the stores are full of nothing but these odd out-of-season things.”
“Straw hats and fly swatters—how ridiculous. Must be folks buying even that.”
“What would anyone need fly swatters for nowadays?”

(Kazue) (laughing) “Even a fly swatter might make a decent substitute for a battledore.”
“These sparklers might actually be better toys for children than this.”
(Taking the sparklers from Mutsumi’s hand and fiddling with them) “Winter fireworks feel somehow ominous.”
“When I glimpsed Mutsumi holding them earlier, it gave me quite a start.”

(Asa) (softly) “But there was nothing else in the shops, you see.”
“Children nowadays are truly pitiable.”
(Changing her tone) “This cod looks fresh—shall we make it into a hotpot?”

(Denbei) “Is there still sake?”

(Asa) (still from behind the shoji screen) “Yes, there should be some left.”

(Denbei) “Then let’s have cod hotpot for dinner with drinks.”

(Kazue) “I’ll do the same.”

(Denbei) (forgetting restraint and finally shouting) “You damn fool! How far will you keep mocking me?!” (half-rising before sinking back down) “Become a proper person!”

Mutsumi burst into tears and clung to Kazue’s bosom.
Kazue remained coldly composed.

"For your sake alone... for your sake alone... this house... for your sake alone... how much—" (muttering incoherently before breaking into sobs)

Kazue, still holding Mutsumi, stood quietly and headed toward the back staircase.

(Denbei) (leaping to his feet fiercely) “Wait!”

(Asa) (running out from the kitchen and restraining Denbei) “Oh, Husband, what are you doing?”

(Denbei) “I have to hit you.”
“I have to hit you until you come to your senses.”

Kazue began climbing the stairs without turning around while holding Mutsumi who cried and screamed.
White stockings were visible beneath the hem of her kimono.

Denbei struggled.
Asa desperately restrained him.

——Curtain.

Act II

When the curtain rose, the stage was pitch black.

The light clicked on.

Kazue’s second-floor living room.
Kazue has just turned on the light in that room.
In the room are two futons.
In one futon, Mutsumi is sleeping.
Kazue stands in her nightwear, one hand still on the light switch she has just turned.
She stands with one hand raised gripping the switch, staring fixedly at a single point.
That single point is the shutters on the lower side.
The shutters open quietly.

Snow blew in.
Following that, a man wearing a double-layered undergarment entered backwards.

(Kazue) (low but sharply) “Who is it?”
“Who are you?”

(The man closed the shutters, removed his double-layered undergarment, turned to face this way for the first time, and sat down properly in that spot.)
(Kiyozō Kanaya) “It’s me.”
“Please forgive me.”
(He bowed his head slightly with earnestness.)

(Kazue) (startled) “Oh, Mr. Kiyozō. What are you doing here?”
(Quickly throwing a haori over her nightwear and tying its cords as she moved to the room’s hearth and sat down) “I thought you were a burglar.”
“What on earth is going on?”

(Kiyozō) “I’m sorry. I wanted you to properly hear my feelings once more—so I wandered around your house for ages, finally worked up my resolve, climbed onto the roof… When I tried the shutters on this second-floor room, they slid right open. So I…”

(Kazue) She gave a bitter smile. “What an absurd burglar.” Gathering embers with fire tongs, she added, “But this sort of thing isn’t uncommon in the countryside, is it? This must be your standard rural courtship ritual.” Her voice sharpened. “Isn’t this what they call night crawling?”

(Kiyozō) “Absolutely not! Such— I would never— How rude!”

(Kazue) (laughing) “No, if it weren’t for that, it would actually seem ruder, wouldn’t it? Climbing onto the roof, coming to this second-floor room, visiting someone so late at night—this isn’t sane behavior.”

(Kiyozō) (growing more anguished) “I beg you—stop mocking me. It’s my fault. Being called a night crawler cuts deep, but I had no choice. For me... there was no other way.” (raises his face) “Ms. Kazue! Please stop tormenting me any longer. Yes or no? Give me that answer tonight—just that one thing.”

(Kazue) (frowning) “Oh, you’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”

(Kiyozō) “I did.”
(Gloomily) “These past few days, I’ve been drinking nothing but alcohol.”
“Ms. Kazue, this is all your fault too.”
“If only you hadn’t come back… Ah, this is pointless—no use saying such things.”
“Ms. Kazue, do you remember? You must have forgotten. When you graduated from girls’ school and left for Tokyo—it was right during the snow thaw season, the roads were terrible—I carried your trunk on my back, and the three of us—you, your mother, and I—walked all the way to Namioka Station.”
“Along the roadside, butterbur sprouts had already begun to emerge.”
“As we walked, you sang that song—‘Spring haze veils mountain slopes and fields, streams whisper, peach buds loosen.’”

“It’s not ‘swell.’”
“Peach buds glisten.”
“It was ‘glisten.’”

“Was that how it was?”
“So you do remember those days after all.”
“Then we arrived at Namioka Station, and since there was still considerable time left, we sat down on a bench in the waiting room and opened our lunch boxes.”
“At that time, your side dishes were rolled eggs and kinpira burdock root, while mine were salted salmon roe marinated in sake lees and simmered onions.”
“You said you wanted to eat my salmon roe, had me pass you the eggs and burdock root, then went ahead and ate my roe and onions.”
“When I ate your eggs and burdock root, I somehow felt like our blood had mingled together.”
“Even if we parted there, I believed we’d never truly separate—that you’d surely return to me and we’d become husband and wife... Yes, that’s what I thought.”
“I must have been twenty-three or twenty-four then.”
“In this village, I was the only one who’d graduated from middle school—I’d vaguely thought even before then that I alone deserved to be with you. After we swapped those side dishes and ate them, your mother laughed and said, ‘Mr. Kiyozō’s food seems especially delicious.’ Then you looked at me with that strange laugh and said, ‘But Mr. Kiyozō isn’t a stranger—right, Mr. Kiyozō?’”
“Do you remember?”

“I forgot,” Kazue replied casually, smoothing ashes with fire tongs.

(Kiyozō) “I see.”
(Sighing) “Everything was my own foolishness.”
“When you said that to me then, I was so overjoyed tears streamed down my face—I couldn’t even swallow my rice.”
“I became convinced you too, Ms. Kazue, must have intended to be with me after graduating from your Tokyo school, and that your mother generally shared that sentiment.”

(Kazue) “Well, Mother might have felt that way.”
“Our families have been close for ages, and you were Mother’s favorite—so I never thought of you as a stranger either... but...”

(Kiyozō) (nodding) “Of course, of course.”
“It was my foolish misunderstanding.”
“But Ms. Kazue—I waited after that.”
“I became deluded that we’d surely be together—in my heart I called you my wife as I waited—yet you never came back.”
“Here, men usually take brides by twenty-three or twenty-four.”
“I turned down every marriage proposal I received.”
“But you never returned during summer or winter breaks—then I heard you’d married Shima Tetsurou, your teacher and a novelist.”
“Imagine how wretched I felt.”
“I became a different person after that.”
“I stopped helping at our rice-polishing mill.”
“Learned the taste of tobacco.”
“Started drinking and lashing out at people.”
“Even did night crawling.”

(Kazue) (bursting out laughing) “Lies, lies.”
“Everything from that point onward is a lie, isn’t it?”
“Why do men tell such obvious lies?”
“You spout these lies with perfect sincerity, as if you don’t even realize they’re fabrications.”
“Just as I went to Tokyo and forgot you, you forgot me too.”
“Do you really expect me to believe you spent ten whole years pining after me since we parted at Namioka Station? That’s impossible.”
“People only think about what directly affects their daily lives—that’s all they can manage.”
“Someone far away with no connection to your life? You might occasionally remember them, but they fade from your mind soon enough.”
“Your drinking and violence—I refuse to take responsibility for that.”
“I’m not saying you were born with such tendencies—but isn’t this simply what happens when you idle your life away in this village?”
“Laze around here long enough, and this is inevitable.”
“That’s all there is to it.”
“How cruel to pin this on me.”
“You’d forgotten me too—just like I forgot you.”
“Then hearing I’d returned made you suddenly anxious, until that anxiety curdled into resentment.”
“That’s human nature.”

(Kiyozō) (suddenly defiant) “No, it’s not.”
“As proof of that, I’m still single.”
“It’s no use trying to deceive me any longer.”
“I’m already thirty-four.”
“In this region, when a man remains single at thirty-four, he’s practically treated as an oddity.”
“People even start terrible rumors—that there’s something wrong with him.”
“Even so, I couldn’t forget you.”
“You had already married someone else, and even though I thought I had to forget you, I simply couldn’t.”
“There is a reason for that.”
“Ms. Kazue, I have read Shima Tetsurou’s novels.”
“Out of some strange curiosity about what kind of novels your husband wrote, I ordered four or five of Shima Tetsurou’s new releases from Tokyo bookstores.”
“I should never have ordered them.”
“You probably can’t imagine how miserably I suffered after reading them.”
“The various women in Mr. Shima’s—no, in Shima’s novels—they’re all you.”
“They’re the spitting image of you.”
“How much he dotes on you, and how earnestly you devote yourself to him—I can see it all so vividly.”
“With things like this, how could I ever forget you even if I tried?”
“No matter how far you were from me, whenever I read those books, it felt unbearably vivid—as if you were living right next door to me.”
“Even when I resolved not to read them anymore, something still nagged at me—whenever I saw advertisements for Shima’s new books in the newspaper, I’d end up ordering them again, read them, and writhe in agony.”
“Truly, I am an unhappy man.”

“Don’t you think so?”
“In Shima’s novel, there was this haiku.”
“White tabi socks— / the housewife’s day begins.”
“White tabi socks— / the housewife’s day begins.”
“He’s actually mocking people.”
“When I read that haiku, your diligent and alluring figure appeared so vividly before my eyes that I couldn’t sit still or stand still.”
“Somehow I felt like you both were toying with me, and there was nothing I could do about it.”
“Given all this, don’t you think it’s only natural that I’d want to drink and act violently toward people?”
“I even considered marrying some country woman to end this, but with that beautiful illusion of yours—‘White tabi socks— / the housewife’s day begins’—always flickering before my eyes, living while watching some sluggish country wife’s clumsy ways would be too miserable.”
“I’m miserable too, and I feel sorry for that country woman bustling about without knowing any of this.”
“Ms. Kazue, because of you, I’ve become a man who will never take a wife for the rest of my life.”
“I knew nothing about Shima’s deployment.”
“As for why Shima’s novels have ceased publication these past few years, I simply assumed it was because of this great war—that novelists too had no choice but to move into munitions factories or similar work.”
“However, even if no new novels are published, I still have several volumes of Shima’s earlier books in my possession.”
“There were times I thought about burning them because they were so detestable, but somehow it felt like burning your very body, and I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
“While hating those books by Shima, I still couldn’t part with them from my own hands—because the you in those pages was something I longed for.”
“For these ten years, you have always been by my side.”
“White tabi socks— / the housewife’s day begins.”
“Your beautiful figure flits around me from morning till night, never ceasing its work.”
“Even if I try to forget, it’s utterly impossible.”

“And then suddenly, you returned.”
“When I heard Shima had been deployed long ago and apparently died in the war, I—”

(Kazue) “You probably can’t say what comes after that.”
“You’ve practically camped out at this house morning till night for two or three months since I returned. My father and mother are such timid people—they couldn’t even tell you to stop coming, so they seemed quite troubled. That’s why I went to your house—” (As she speaks, her eyes suddenly catch on the sparklers scattered across the tatami. She picks one up and lights it.)
The sparklers crackled as they burned.
(Staring at the sparks) “With your mother, your sister, and you—all three of you—present like that, if you kept coming here so often, people were bound to start strange rumors. So I told you not to come anymore, and then you abruptly stopped—” (The sparkler dies out.)
(Picks up another one and lights it) “Just when I was starting to relax, you suddenly sent that lewd letter the other day—you’ve really changed.”
“In the village, you seem to have quite a terrible reputation, don’t you?”

(Kiyozō) “It might be lewd or whatever—there’s nothing to be done about it.”
“I wrote that letter while crying.”
“As a man—I wrote it while crying.”
“Today I came to hear your reply to that letter.”
“Is it Yes or No?”
“Just tell me that much.”
“It may seem affected,” (pulling a deba knife wrapped in a hand towel from his kimono sleeve, placing it on the tatami, and smirking) “but tonight I’ve brought this.”
“Stop with those fireworks and tell me yes or no.”

(Kazue) When one sparkler went out, she picked up another and lit it.
(Kazue continued similarly with five or six more) These sparklers—my mother bought them for Mutsumi two or three days ago. But even a child like her seemed to have no interest at all in crackling fireworks by the stove.
"She looked bored watching them."
"After all, fireworks must look most beautiful on a summer night when everyone's wearing yukata, gathered on the garden veranda eating watermelon while setting off crackling ones."
"But such an era may never—(she involuntarily sighed)—never come again. Winter fireworks, winter fireworks."
"Absurd and hollow—" (holding a crackling sparkler in one hand, wiping tears with the other) "Mr. Kiyozō, you and I—no, all Japanese people—we're just like these winter fireworks."

(Kiyozō) (in a deflated manner) “What does that mean?”

(Kazue) “There’s no meaning or anything to it.”
“Can’t you see that just by looking?”
“Japan is already—” (suddenly stops the sparkler and covers her face with her sleeve) “—completely hopeless.”
(Half-emerging her face from her sleeve, sobbing with a faint laugh) “And I—I’m done for too.”
“No matter how much I struggle and strive, it only ends in ruin.”

(Kiyozō) (misunderstanding something, shuffling to edge one knee forward) “Yes, yes.”
“If things go on like this, it’s no good.”
“We must resolutely change our way of life.”
“I’ll show you I can properly take care of Miss Mutsumi at the very least.”
“As you know, my family runs the only rice shop in this area, so I can manage the rice logistics no matter what.”
“Now, the rice shop reigns supreme.”
“Even more than landlords—more than anyone—we have complete control over rice.”

(Kazue) (appearing not to listen at all, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve on her lap) “When did Japanese people become so wretched and deceitful? Everyone’s just counterfeit goods—putting on airs of knowledge while covering things up, obsessing over scraps of learning or ideology until everything turns stiff and awkward. There’s no saving anyone.” “Saving people? Oh, what grandiosity—” (emits a low, strange laughter akin to Act I) “—that’s beyond shameless.” “When did all Japanese people start walking like marionettes with such a grotesque gait? It’s been since long ago. Probably from a long, long time ago.”

(Kiyozō) (flinching) “That—truly—people in the city must be like that.”
“Exactly right.”
“But country folk’s pure hearts stay unchanged through ages.”
“Ms. Kazue,” (laughing unnaturally while edging closer) “remember the past.”
“You and I were tied together since ancient times.”
“We were fated to unite.”
“Ms. Kazue, remember.”
“Though ashamed to say until now—Ms. Kazue—when young, we’d burrow in your family’s straw hut.”
“You haven’t forgotten that time?”
“When you entered girls’ school, you pretended to forget our bond—but from that moment, you were meant to be my bride.”
“I lost my purity—and you yours.”

(Kazue) (stands up in shock) “How dare you say such a thing! That’s exactly what a ruffian would do! What ‘pure heart’? Someone like you is precisely what we call a villain. Leave. If you don’t leave, I’ll call for help.”

(Kiyozō) (calmly, like a true villain) “Quiet.” (lifting the deba knife to show it, then tossing it lightly onto the tatami) “See this? Tonight I’m risking my life. I won’t endure your mockery forever. Yes or no?”

“Stop it. You’re disgusting.”
“If a woman must be hounded her whole life over such trivial childhood matters, then women are truly wretched.”
“Ah, I want to kill you.”
Facing Kiyozō, she took two or three steps back, then suddenly opened the sliding door behind her with her hand behind her back.
Outside the sliding door was the bottom of the stairs.
There stood Asa.
(Kazue, who had been aware of Asa standing there since earlier, still looked at Kiyozō) “Mother! I’m begging you!”
“Send this man away.”
“What a caterpillar of a man.”
“I can’t stand speaking anymore.”
“I want to kill him.”

(Kiyozō) (startled upon seeing Asa standing there) “Oh! Mother! You were there?”
(Flustered suddenly，hurriedly tucking the deba knife on the tatami into his kimono) “My apologies.”
“Let’s go.”

(Stood up and put on a double-layered loincloth.)

(Asa) (entering the room timidly, approaching Kiyozō, briefly assisting him with putting on the double-layered loincloth, calmly) “Mr. Kiyozō, you should find a bride soon. As for Kazue, she’s already…”

(Kazue) (in a low, sharp voice) “Mother!”
(silencing her with a look)

(Kiyozō) (suddenly realizing) “Oh, I see. Ms. Kazue, you’re a terrible woman too.”
(grinning slyly) “What a talent. Well, I’m honored. If I’m a caterpillar, then you’re a snake. You’re a slut. You’re a whore. I’ll tell everyone. Fine! I’ll tell everyone.”
(He whirls around and opens the storm shutters behind him.)
(A burst of snow blew in)

(Asa) (in a low, firm voice) “Mr. Kiyozō, wait.”
(She clung to Kiyozō, fumbled through his kimono, pulled out the deba knife, gripped it in a reverse hold, and tried to stab him in the chest.)

(Kiyozō) (grabbing her hand at the last moment) “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Have you lost your mind, you damn hag?”
(He seized the knife, kicked Asa down, and escaped outside.
(The sound of someone thudding down from the roof could be heard.)

(Kazue) (striking a warrior’s pose at Asa) “Mother!”
“It’s so hard... I tell you.”
(cries like a child)

(Asa) (embracing Kazue) She had been listening.
“I felt guilty for eavesdropping, but I was so worried about you that... (crying)”

“I knew it, I tell you.”
“Mother had been crying behind that sliding door.”
“I understood immediately.”
“But Mother, just leave me alone already.”
“I’m already done for.”
“I’ll only end up worse.”
“No matter what I do, happiness will never come in this lifetime.”
“Mother, the person waiting for me in Tokyo is someone much younger than me.”

(Asa) (in surprise) “Oh, you...”
(embracing Kazue tightly) “You poor child who can never find happiness.”

(Kazue) (crying harder now) “There’s no help for it.”
“There’s no help for it.”
“Mutsumi and I had to do that to keep living.”
“I’m not the one who’s wrong here.”
“I’m not the one who’s wrong here.”

Snow blew in without ceasing.
The tatami mats around them, their hair and shoulders too, were turning white.

—Curtain.

Act III

The setting was the inner room of Denbei’s house.
The front featured an imposing alcove, but as a folding screen stood before it, more than half remained concealed.
The folding screen was a silver folding screen that had aged severely to a mouse-gray hue.
However, it was not torn.
Stage right had a shoji.
Beyond that shoji lay the atmosphere of a corridor.
Morning sunlight streamed through the corridor’s glass door, brightening the shoji.
Stage left had a fusuma.

As the curtain rose, Asa’s sickbed lay at the center of the room.
Asa lay on her back with her head toward the shoji.
She showed considerable debilitation.
She was sleeping.
Beside the pillow sat medicine bottles, medicine packets, a sputum cup, and other items.
In front of the sickbed stood two paulownia wood hibachi.
Both hibachi had iron kettles placed on them, with steam rising.

Kazue sits at a small desk facing the shoji, writing what appears to be a letter.

About ten days had passed since Act II.

Kazue put down her fountain pen, rested her cheek on her hand and gazed blankly at the shoji, then began to cry silently.

Pause.

Asa groaned painfully in her sleep.
The groans continued.

(Kazue looked toward Asa, folded the unfinished letter on the desk and tucked it into her pocket, then stood and went to Asa, shaking her awake.) “Mother. Mother.”

(Asa awakened with a deep sigh.) “Ah… Ah, it’s you.”

“Are you in pain somewhere?”

“No…” (She sighed.) “I had such an unpleasant, terrible dream…” (Her tone shifted.) “Where’s Mutsumi?”

“Early this morning, she went to Hirosaki with Grandpa.”

“To Hirosaki?”
“What for?”

“Oh, didn’t you know?”
“The doctor who came yesterday was the director of Narumi Internal Medicine in Hirosaki.”
“So Father went to Dr. Narumi’s today to get the medicine.”

“I feel lonely without Mutsumi.”

“Isn’t the quiet actually better? But children can be so mercenary, can’t they? When Grandma fell ill, she stopped clinging to her at all—now she’s just being overly clingy to Grandpa.”

“That’s not it.”
“That’s because Grandpa worked so hard to please Mutsumi—that’s why things turned out this way.”
“From Grandpa’s view, he must want to keep Mutsumi close by here no matter what.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”
(tending to the hibachi’s charcoal, refilling the iron kettle with water, straightening Asa’s futon—doing all these while keeping up a lighthearted tone)

“Because even after I’m gone—if Mutsumi stays attached to Grandpa—you’d find it harder to go back to Tokyo, you know.”

(Kazue) (laughing) “Well, what strange things you say.”
“Let’s stop this foolishness.”
“Shall I peel some apples?”
“The doctor said you’ll recover if you just eat anything.”

(Asa) (shakes her head faintly) “I don’t want to eat.”
“I don’t want to eat a thing.”
“What did the doctor who came yesterday say about my illness?”

(Kazue) (hesitating slightly, then speaking clearly) “It might be cholecystitis.”
“With this illness—since your body weakens from vomiting everything you eat like you do, Mother—there can be danger, but he said once food starts staying in your stomach, you’ll get better in about a week.”

(Asa) (with a wry smile) “I hope that’s true… Wouldn’t that be nice.”
“I feel like I’m already done for.”
“Is there some other illness too?”
“My arms and legs won’t move at all.”

“If you showed that to a doctor, even a healthy person would get told all sorts of things. If you dwell on every little thing, there’ll be no end to it.”

“What did he say?”

“No, it’s nothing at all. They said there might be slight signs of cerebral hemorrhage—something about your pulse being this or that—all sorts of things, but I’d forgotten it all.”
(in a playful tone) “In short, if you just eat whatever you want—and lots of it—you’ll recover.”
“If it’s your self-styled Dr. Kazue’s diagnosis, that’s how it is.”

(Asa) (solemnly) "Kazue, I don't want to get better anymore. I want to die soon like this, with you nursing me. For me, that would be the greatest happiness."

The sound of the parlor clock slowly striking ten o'clock could be heard.

(Kazue) (completely ignoring Asa’s words and pretending not to hear) “Oh, it’s already ten o’clock.”
(standing up) “I’ll make some kuzuyu.”
“You really must eat something.”
(opening the upper shoji as she speaks) “My, today’s weather is unusually fine.”

(Asa) “Kazue, stay here with me.”
“No matter what I eat, I just feel like vomiting right away—it only makes things worse.”
“Don’t go anywhere. Stay by my side.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”

(Kazue quietly closed the shoji screens and sat back down beside the sickbed, speaking brightly) “What’s wrong? Right, Mother?”

(Asa) “Kazue, you won’t go back to Tokyo anymore, will you?”

(Kazue bluntly) “I intend to go back. Father told me to get out, didn’t he? And ever since that day, he hasn’t even properly spoken to me. There’s no choice but to go back.”

(Asa) “Even though I’ve become bedridden like this?”

“Mother’s illness will get better soon. Well, until you recover, I still intend to stay in this house and do my best to nurse you, no matter how much Father tells me to leave.”

“Even for years, you think?”

(Kazue) “Years?” (laughing) “Mother, you’ll get better soon.”

(Asa) (shaking her head) “No, no.”
“I know.”
“Kazue, if something were to happen to me—would you leave Father alone in this house and go back to Tokyo?”

(Kazue) “Enough already.”
“Such talk.”
(Turning her face away and crying) “If that happens... If that happens, Kazue will die too.”

(Asa) (sighing) “I wanted to make you the happiest child in the world, but it turned out the opposite.”

(Kazue) “No, I’m not the only unhappy one. Is there even a single person in Japan right now who’s happy? Mother, I tried writing this letter earlier.”
(taking out the unfinished letter from her pocket with forced cheer) “I’ll read a bit of it, okay?”
(reading softly) “Dear...
‘I have duly received the three hundred yen via postal transfer. Since coming here, there’s been no use for money at all—every yen you’ve sent remains untouched. You must need funds far more than I do now. Please don’t send any more here. Should you require money urgently, wire me a telegram instead. We truly need nothing here, so I can send any amount immediately. I’ll keep it safe until then.

‘You seem as diligent as ever with your work—they say this year’s exhibition will start soon. Remarkably early, when New Year’s just ended! Your submission pieces must be nearly finished by now? In your last letter, you wrote about needing to depict “new realities”—what did you paint? Vagrants outside Ueno Station? If it were me, I’d paint Hiroshima’s scorched ruins. Or that beautiful rain of flames that fell over us in Tokyo. They’d make splendid paintings.

‘Here at home, Mother collapsed ten days ago from an awful incident’s shock and has been bedridden since—I’ve been nursing her—but strangely enough, I feel purposeful for the first time in ages.’”

"I love this mother more than my own life."
"And my mother loves me just as much."
"My mother is a splendid mother."
"And she is a beautiful mother."
"During that time when nearly all of Japan was under air raids—defying your attempts to stop me—I boarded an Aomori-bound train with Mutsumi, looking like some half-mad beggar. We encountered air raids repeatedly along the way, got forced off at various stations to sleep outdoors, until finally we ran out of food. When Mutsumi and I clung to each other crying, some schoolgirl gave us rice balls, shredded kelp, and hardtack. But Mutsumi, perhaps overwhelmed by joy or spite, angrily threw the rice ball back at her. Ah—how wretched we'd become, a pitiful pair of beggars! Yet even then, what drove me to desperately return to my birthplace at Tohoku's edge—I realize now—was this single-minded desire to see my beautiful mother one last time before dying."
"My mother is a good mother."
"This time too, my mother's illness—when you trace it back—it's as if it all originated from me."
"I want to make this mother even a little bit happy now."
"I've decided not to think about anything else."
"If my mother tells me to stay by her side forever, I intend to stay there for life."
"I don't intend to return to you either."
"My father tells me to go back to Tokyo soon out of social propriety and obligation to Mother—but now that she's bedridden, even he seems to have grown timid and lost his resolve."
"I might never return to Tokyo."
"If you still hold affection for me—please stop painting and come here to become a farmer with me."
"You couldn't do that, could you?"
"But if you ever feel inclined—do come."
"When it warms up and the snow melts—when green grass appears in the fields—I'll go out daily with a hoe on my shoulder and work in silence."
"I'll become just a peasant woman."
"I'll make Mutsumi into one too."
"I refuse to rely on anyone in today's Japan—politicians, thinkers, artists—anyone at all."

“Right now, isn’t everyone completely preoccupied with their own day-to-day survival?”
“If that’s how it is, they should just say so honestly! But no—they shamelessly talk about ‘guiding the citizens,’ lining up empty sermons about ‘live brightly’ and ‘have hope,’ all meaningless drivel. And then they call that culture!”
“Isn’t this absurd?”
“What even is culture?”
“It says ‘a pompous monstrosity of phrases,’ doesn’t it.”
“Why do the people of Japan so love to become leaders, every last one of them?”
“During the war we were plagued by so many incompetent leaders, and now it seems we’re facing an inflation of these so-called reconstruction leaders.”
“It’s dreadful.”
“I think Japan will surely become more and more ruined.”
“It’s only natural that young people must study and we must work—yet to avoid doing so, they fabricate all sorts of plausible-sounding excuses.”
“And so we’ll just keep sinking lower and lower until we hit rock bottom.”
“Hey, what even is ‘anarchy’?”
“I think it might be trying to create something like the Peach Blossom Spring of China.”
“With only like-minded friends tilling the fields, planting peach, pear, and apple trees—no radios to listen to, no newspapers to read, no letters arriving, no elections or speeches—everyone aware of their past sins and timidly loving their neighbors as themselves, resting when tired—couldn’t we create such a village?”
“I feel now more than ever that such a village could be created.”
“Well first, I’ll become a farmer myself and try it out, you see.”
“When the snow melts, I’ll go out to the rice fields right away—” (She stops reading, places the letter on her lap, and smiles stiffly while looking toward Mother) “I’ve written this far, but this may be my last letter where I bid farewell to Mr. Suzuki.”

(Asa) “Mr. Suzuki, you mean?”

(Kazue) “Yes, he looked after us so well.”
“It’s because of him that Mutsumi and I managed to survive through those war years.”
“But Mother—I’ll forget them all now.”
“I’ll stay by your side forever from now on.”
“Come to think of it—you haven’t had Eichi return either—” (flushing after speaking) “But Eichi will be alright.”
“I’m certain he’ll come back healthy any day now.”

(Asa) “If you and Mutsumi stay in this house, I don’t mind even if Eichi never returns.”
“I’ve already given up on that child.”
“Kazue, I can’t help feeling more sorry for you and Mutsumi than for Eichi.”
(Cries)

(Kazue) (wiping Asa’s tears with a handkerchief) “I... I don’t care what becomes of me.”
“I truly always think that way.” (Looking down) “I’ve done nothing but wrong.”

(Asa) Kazue—(in an altered tone)—“All women have secrets.”
“You just didn’t hide yours.”

(Kazue peered searchingly at Asa’s face) “Mother, really—must you wear such a solemn expression?”
(with an abashed smile)

(Asa) (persisting) “How many days has it been since that night?”

(Kazue) “Since when?”

(Asa) “From that night.”

“Well, I suppose it’s been about ten days.”
“Let’s stop talking about that night.”

“Ten days?”
“Is that so...”
“Only ten days.”
“To me, it feels like half a year ago.”

“But Mother, you collapsed at the foot of the stairs that night and remained unconscious for three whole days—it’s no wonder what happened that evening feels like a distant dream now.”
“It was a dream.”
“I’ll decide to forget that too.”
“I’ll decide to forget everything.”
I will become a farmer and create our Utopia.

(Asa) “Didn’t you hear anything about how Mr. Kiyozō has been doing since then?”

(Kazue) “I don’t know about someone like that.”
“Since I’ll forget it all anyway, it’s fine.”
“He quit drinking and has been working like a changed person lately—or so his sister came yesterday and said—but you can’t trust that.”

“He should just get married soon, you know.”

“I hear there’s some talk about that now.”
“His sister said so.”
“This marriage proposal—I don’t know why—brother is really enthusiastic about it.”
“I understand.”

“What do you... understand?”

“What do I understand? Mr. Kiyozō’s feelings.”

“Why?”

"Why? Because if even after being subjected to all that by you that night, he still doesn't reform, then that man must be a fool or a demon."

"That fool or demon—it's me."
"It's me."
"That night, I truly tried to kill him."

“No more—let’s stop this, Mother. For my sake—everyone for my sake—Mother, I’m sorry—from now on I’ll—” (bursting into tears) “—be filial and repay your kindness, so please don’t say anything more. Japan has nothing left to be proud of in the world anymore, but my mother—my mother alone—”

(Asa) “That’s wrong.”
“I’m a far worse woman than you.”
“When I tried to kill him that night—it wasn’t for your sake.”
“It was for mine.”
“Kazue, let me die like this.”
“To die would be my greatest happiness.”
“Kazue... That man... Six years ago... He did the same thing to me...”

(Kazue lifts her face, turning pale.)

(Asa) “I was a fool—deceived.”
“Women… women… why must we be…” (cries)

(Kazue acts as if stifling pain, breathing raggedly before standing up.)
A letter flutters down from her knee.
(Staring at it) “Utopia… utopia… farming…” (Emits low eerie laugh like in Act I) “Ridiculous.”
“Everything’s ridiculous.”
“This is Japan’s reality.”

(Laughing high-pitched) “Now then, Japan’s leaders—save us.”
“Can you do it? Can you?”
(As she speaks, picks up the letter, tears it in two, four, eight pieces, shredding it to bits.) “There! Do whatever you want!”
“I’m going to my man in Tokyo.”
“I’ll fall—I’ll fall all the way down.”
“What good are ideals or damn things like that?”

The sound of the front door being violently opened was heard.

“Telegram.”
“Ms. Shimada Kazue.”
“Telegram,” came the delivery person’s voice.

“Oh, a telegram for me.”
“I don’t want it. I don’t want it.”
“It’s nothing good.”
“There’s no way anyone in Japan today has any good news.”
“It’s definitely bad news.”
She paced restlessly, then threw the handful of paper scraps into the brazier.
Flames rose. “Ah, this too is fireworks.”
She laughed madly. “Winter fireworks.”
My longed-for Utopia, my pitiful resolutions—they’re all just ridiculous winter fireworks.

At the entrance: “Telegram here.”
“Is anyone there?”
“Ms.Shimada Kazue.”
“It’s an urgent telegram,” the voice persisted.

——Curtain.