Pathway to Japanese Literature

Oyanagi was terribly drunk.
And then,

“Who’d stay in a dump like this? I’m out!”
“Stay here and you’re nothing but a Komatsuya maid. That’s why they’ll scorn you as one.”
“If I go back to Kamakura, though it’s presumptuous of me to say, I’m master of my own household.”
“Even fine gentlemen wouldn’t give you a single greeting.”

With that bold declaration, she took her leave.
Seki, who had been her quarrel partner, remained behind with an air of indecision.
The cause of the quarrel lay in Oyanagi’s customer—a haberdasher—attempting to sneak only Seki away to the Seaside Exposition.
Yet that alone hadn’t been all.
For July twentieth’s village festival, everyone at Komatsuya had staked their deepest hopes.
Before the Great Earthquake two years prior, ×× Temple had stood intact; when summer arrived, hordes of students would come seeking Zen meditation.
Even those lodging in scattered hermitages relied entirely on Komatsuya to furnish bedding, desks, meals—all necessities.
Those who stayed at Komatsuya while commuting mountainward scarcely dwindled year-round.
Whenever ×× Temple—half a town beyond lush cedars—ignited its spiritual fervor, Komatsuya’s kitchen thrummed with joyous bustle to sate those ever-hungry youths.
Like twin wheels spun by invisible threads, ×× Temple and Komatsuya had turned in flawless sync.
Then came that unforeseen quake two years back—shattering decades of tradition.
Though avoiding total ruin, ×× Temple could no longer host multitudes of students as before.
Being neighbors in misfortune meant Komatsuya too suffered grievously.
Guest rooms lay flattened.
Rental futons and desks became wreckage.
At last they raised a tin-roofed structure housing three or four tatami rooms.
Still, whenever desk rentals came up—rare as they were—the master and his son would—

“Hey, did you find any desks?”

“Yeah, they’re piled under something in that makeshift storage.”
“But—do they even have legs attached?”

they were reduced to such exchanges.
Now sustained by meager meal service, occasional lodgers, and monks from ×× Temple who came to drink.
Thus both maids and masters found little cause for joy.
The annual festival meant more to the village than New Year's itself.
For that very day, Ishi had secured ample fish the previous evening.
Oyanagi—who at least could make the shamisen sound—even went to the trouble of donning a merino underkimono.
And they waited from morning.
Waited.
Truly waited.
When naming who appeared to answer their strained expectations, none could blame them for deflating.
It proved to be only the Tokyo bookseller who nightly descended ×× Temple's steep steps for dinner, plus two painters who'd lodged ten days at Komatsuya before moving to Kamakura.
Sullen women half-madly encircled the silent bookseller. Led by Ishi, they chanted absurd ditties in hushed tones—jangling plinks, discordant twangs—

“Oh dear, oh dear!”

they clamored.
But come morning, not a single soul in the house rose cheerfully from bed.
Every face seemed primed with grievances.
The quarrel born from their pent-up resentment—Oyanagi and Seki snapping at each other in the kitchen—kept scraping against Ishi’s frayed nerves as she picked fish scales from rice cakes.
She thrust forward her face—all sturdy bone structure beneath a round chignon, like some Sharaku caricature—and barked at them.
Oyanagi fired back undaunted.
The spat veered into unforeseen territory.
Ishi,

“It’s not like you’re women who deserve to be worshiped—keep it moderate!” she snapped.
At this, Oyanagi—as if having won her point—flung down her parting words about returning to Kamakura and briskly withdrew.
Ishi, her hair in a country-style chignon, turned to Seki—who had inexplicably tied a stiff white sash around her waist like a nurse’s obi—and said:
“Ah, this is actually more relaxing. I prefer you anyway.”
“All bluster and no substance—that one!”
“Anyone with eyes can see what she’s been up to.”

she said with practiced charm.

With the domineering one gone, Seki became busier.
She had to wake up relatively early in the morning.
When noon came, she had to make over twenty meal deliveries as if along a scorching railway line.
Her situation was precisely that with two workers, there were more hands than needed.
However, the situation was precisely that one person alone couldn’t manage it.

The master, who had once been a pawnshop clerk, was small in both body and face, and on clear days he went out to work in the fields with a gloomy demeanor.
Ishi spent nearly the entire day with her sleeves tied back with a sash, moving barefoot between the kitchen and the storehouse.
While preparing meals with as few ingredients and as little effort as possible, she thought of various things.
She had been looking for a young maid for some time.
Sixteen or seventeen, or at least no older than twenty.
Women like Oyanagi and Seki, who’d drifted around until nearing thirty—what a pain to manage!
And on top of that, were they even pretty?!

To tell the truth, Ishi had one frustrating thing.
Right nearby Komatsuya stood a house called Takara-tei that also served alcohol.
Even though it was a house that barely had proper guest rooms, recently the monks from ×× Temple had been lured there in large numbers.
The sake and stewed dishes were not particularly different from Komatsuya’s.
Ishi knew that subtle secret.
It was because Takara-tei’s twenty-four-year-old daughter had a reputation for being somewhat pretty and capricious.

Ishi resolved that this time, she would truly find a young, cute, obedient girl.
And now, she would have those monks who’d lately only been borrowing futons drinking at the inn again.
She asked around for help.

It was an evening not long after Oyanagi had left.
When Ishi was, as usual, in the kitchen, Juuji the cattle dealer came to the shop.

“Madam, couldn’t you spare a moment? That girl we talked about has been found.”

Ishi came out while wiping her hands on a dark indigo apron.

“I see. Well, thank you for that.
“Anyway, we can’t manage with just Seki alone. How old is she?”

Juuji answered while lighting a cigarette.

“She’s two or three over your order, but just by two years.”

“Finding proper timing sure is tough, isn’t it? So where’s she from? Her birthplace?”

“Zushi, from her folks’ place.”

“Coastal stock after all… Being a rough-edged coast-raised woman myself, maybe we’ll click better that way.”

Ishi laughed heartily—Ha ha ha—her curiosity and hopes for the new woman bubbling forth.

“We might be in this trade, but our house stands firm. The money’s trustworthy too—not a single shady copper from underhand dealings. Instead, set wages drop straight into your pocket neat as you please...”

Juuji spoke in fragments.

“That’s right. And depending on how things go with that girl—well, seems she’s thinking she might even get help finding a husband from your place. She’ll settle down.”

Ishi wanted to meet the person as soon as possible.

“So what about it? Is that girl in Zushi now?”

“Nah—she’s already here.”
“Where? Here in this town?”
“Ah—right here.”

“Here?”
“What the—!”
“So she came with you? Ridiculous! You—why did you keep quiet about it until now? You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met!”

Ishi called out while laughing, peering through the four-paned glass door.

“Come on now, you—step right in. No need to be shy at all.”

To Juuji,

“What’s your name?”

While asking this, Ishi intently watched the figure of the girl emerging in the dimly lit earthen entryway.

“Hey, Roku! Get in here.”

Lumbering from beyond the glass, Roku entered the earthen entryway.
Grinning, she painstakingly lifted each foot high to step over the low entrance’s threshold with exaggerated care.
When Roku noticed Ishi sitting before the hearth, she gave a quick bow with her upper body and stood rigidly in place.
When Ishi saw the girl’s face—dark even under electric light, slack-featured, and faintly grimy—the corners of her mouth twisted her once-vigorous smile into something sour.

“Oh, do come over here.”

Roku approached the counter area with that same cumbersome, crocodile-like gait that seemed to require excessive effort.
She placed her hands on the floor,

“I can’t do anything well, but please be kind to me,” she said in greeting. Her demeanor suggested she had already settled on staying in this house and felt entirely at ease. Ishi felt both annoyed and unnervingly ticklish. Unlike most women who had that slightly detestable cunning to size up a household at a glance, Roku clearly lacked something essential. Even lacking that, had her complexion been fairer or her appearance more comely, it might have been different… Ishi asked Roku.

“Is this your first time working in service?”

Roku answered in a thick-tongued manner, as though her words were weighed down by excess saliva pooling behind her lips.

“No, I was in Kamakura before.”

she answered.

“Was it a teahouse?”

“No, a relative’s home.”

“That makes sense. You can’t work in hospitality looking like that.”

Roku had her hair in a ginkgo-leaf twist, wore a dark-striped cotton kimono with a sarasa-patterned obi.
Her hair and obi were both worn.
Yet she herself paid no mind to the madam’s words or her own shabby appearance, sitting comfortably cross-legged.
Ishi showed a faint, twisted semblance of a smile only at the corner of her Sharaku-like face, stared intently from across the room, then turned to Juuji.

“Well then, let’s have her stay. We won’t understand each other’s dispositions unless we spend two or three days together.”

Juuji stood up.

“That’s what I meant.”

he stood up.

“Well, she ain’t settled in yet, so just see how she does for now.”

Ishi turned to face forward and kept chatting with Juuji until the horse grazing along the Mizogawa’s edge was untied and began moving off—all while Seki emerged from the bath.

Noticing an unfamiliar woman present, Seki silently tightened her obi at first.
But when she realized this woman was a new maid candidate on trial and that both her features and clothing were inferior to her own, she gradually began to feel a sense of familiarity.
Seki, in Tohoku-accented speech from nearby,
“Please use this.”

and offered a fan.
Roku promptly asked in a friendly manner.

“Are you the senior maid here?”

“That’s right. There was another one, but she ran off.”

“Hey, do you think I can manage this job?”

“We ain’t got that many customers, so you’ll be fine… I’ll teach you.”
“What’s your name?”

“Roku—it’s Roku… um, well…”

Roku pressed close to Seki, her face radiating sincerity, and asked.

“Um, is it true that Madam will arrange for me to get married?”

Seki, momentarily not comprehending, stared at Roku’s dark, thin-skinned face that somehow looked grimy.

“Oh, didn’t you come here to work as a maid?”

“I did come to work as a maid, but, you see, Mr. Juuji said the madam here would help arrange a marriage for me.”

“Oh my, just a moment—Madam, Madam!”

Seki, now boisterously cheerful, called out from behind as if about to thump Ishi’s shoulder.

“This person came to work as a maid ’cause Madam said she’d arrange a marriage for her, see!”

Ishi, looking annoyed,
“Don’t be ridiculous,”
she muttered.

she muttered.

“Alright, you. Teach this one the ropes around here. Even a couple of days should make her somewhat useful.”

Within a few days, Roku unwittingly became something of a favorite.
There was no longer any doubt about Roku’s simple-mindedness.
She agreed to stay at Komatsuya without even clearly inquiring about her wages.
If someone gave an order and led her around, she would follow behind, dragging her feet like an alligator to do whatever was asked—whether menial tasks or kitchen work—without showing the slightest complaint.

Ishi no longer found Roku so disagreeable under a scheme entirely different from what she had initially envisioned. Because she could be made to work without greed or reluctance, she was not merely useful as a lowly servant. This was because Ishi had discovered that turning her into the household favorite and object of ridicule unexpectedly helped entertain the men who came to drink.

Following Seki, Roku straddled the threshold one foot at a time with a grunt and carried trays and rice tubs out to the guests. Seki sat there smirking as she watched the drinks being poured. When she too became slightly tipsy, Seki would surely turn to Roku beside her,

“Hey, Roku, what do you think? This guy here. Go on, ask him.”

she began to tease. At these suggestive words, the guests would usually—

“What’s this now?”

the guest retorted.

“Well, hey, hahaha! This Roku here, see, she’s just dying to get married.”
“She’s always asking if someone will arrange one for her, so I thought maybe you…”

“Well now, that’s a blessing! Huh—so Roku, you’re that desperate to get yourself married off?”

Roku seemed to have been sitting there all along, waiting precisely for such remarks.
She rubbed the edge of the dining table with hands whose five fingers weren’t neatly spaced like others’, as if they had muddy webbing—
“Heh heh heh”—
she laughed.

“Ha ha ha! That ‘heh heh heh’ of yours is something else! Ha ha ha! A looker like you must have suitors lined up—must be a real hassle! Ha ha! I’m just in awe, really.”

The blatantly obscene jokes grew even more raucous when the madam appeared at the gathering.
Ishi chattered boisterously.

"It's sinful of you! Why not show her some affection for once? Just look at this state—ha ha ha! Though that might be going too far, wouldn't you say, Roku?"

Roku kept her face turned squarely toward everyone as usual,

"Heh heh heh."

She laughed.

“Heh heh heh,” someone jeered before bursting into “Ha ha ha ha!”

They burst into uproarious laughter.
Roku laughed along with them.
That was just too much—they laughed until everything collapsed into chaotic uproar.

Roku’s pleas for help finding a husband were not limited to those within the household.
She seemed to ask nearly every person she encountered.
Ishi,

“There’s no helping it,” Ishi laughed cheerfully. “At this point it’s all part of her charm—who’d ever take her seriously?”

Around the time Roku had mostly learned the layout of the small village, an errand came up one evening to deliver grilled fish to a villa further up the mountain. Seki was attending to formally dressed guests in the tatami room.

Ishi called out,
“Hey, Roku.”

Ishi called out.

“You there, I hate to ask, but could you deliver this lunchbox to Yamashina-san’s place?
“Come on, you know where that is, right?”
“The thatched-roof house you went to with Seki just two or three days ago.”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure you’ve got it? Don’t go leaving it somewhere else now.”

“Um, the house by the fields, right? The one with children?”

“That’s right. The sun’s not out anymore, so you can go without an umbrella.”

For a little over an hour, Ishi was kept busy.

An official from the prefectural office’s social welfare section had come to ×× Temple to give a lecture.
Six servings of sake were served.
When she suddenly realized this development，they had become swamped.
Roku still hadn’t returned.
She—
"How many hours does this take?!
It’s only three or four blocks away!"—
muttered distractedly to herself.
But after some time had passed，Seki emerged with a flushed face：
"Miss Roku still isn’t back? We’re short-handed."
Ishi looked at the clock and started.
Though lingering twilight stretched these summer days，it was already past seven.
Roku had left around five o’clock.
A full two hours—where could that girl be dawdling?
Given Roku being... well，Roku，Ishi found herself growing more concerned than angry.
When her hands freed up，she went to where her husband was adjusting the pump out back.

“That girl still hasn’t come back—she hasn’t been hit by a train, has she?”

“They’d blow the emergency whistle if they hit someone.”

Ishi clicked her tongue and went into the house.

“Hey, you got laundry out? Looks like an evening shower’s brewing.”

The surroundings grew completely dark.
As the wind blew, a swirling misty rain began to fall, sweeping from mountain to mountain with a swishing sound.
Ishi had been sitting for a while when she took a bamboo umbrella and left the shop.
She crossed the Mizogawa River in the distance, made her way over the railway tracks, and followed the sound of rain pattering against her umbrella around a lotus pond where large white flowers swayed visible in the night—all until she reached the Yamashina villa.

“Good evening—this is Komatsuya calling—”

A bob-cut girl in Western clothes appeared at the kitchen entrance.

“What?”

“Has our maid brought up your order?”

“The fish? Yes, she came.”
“They’ve already eaten it all up.”

replied the Western-clothed girl cheerfully.

“Well, that’s settled then… But she still hasn’t come back, so…”

“Ma’am.”
“Just—”

Through Madam’s words, it became clear that Roku had left within five minutes of arriving there.

Ishi even went shopping at the hardware store and returned, but Roku still had not come back.

“...How strange,” Ishi muttered. “Even if she tried wandering around, there’s nowhere worth wandering here...”

“Maybe she went off somewhere?” Seki ventured.

Wiping her wet feet on the wooden floorboards, Ishi clicked her tongue. “You’re not kidding!” she said with a resigned smirk.

“Maybe she got mad ’cause nobody’s helpin’ find her a husband and ran off, you know?”

Every clack of wooden sandals made everyone instinctively glance from the shop toward the street.
Nine o’clock came and went. Then ten.
The rain had stopped too.

It was around eleven o’clock when Roku returned in her usual languid manner.

That was all well and good, but the next day, something unexpected came to light. On her way back from Yamashina yesterday, Roku encountered a laborer she didn’t know on the road. Who had greeted whom first—only the roadside grass could say—but the laborer told Roku, "I’ll make you my wife, so come here." Roku accordingly stayed with that man until that time. When parting, the laborer told her to come again tomorrow. Honest Roku kept her promise and went to check the same spot as the previous day. The laborer was nowhere to be found. She was deeply disappointed. She was so disappointed she couldn’t keep it to herself. And so, she confided in Seki.

When Ishi heard this from Seki, even she—

“Really?”
Her face stretched taut.

“Look!
That’s just it… What man in any country would suddenly say he’ll make you his wife like that? But that laborer—”

Ishi laughed with spiteful glee.

“He must’ve been the shocked one instead!
That lumbering fool probably blurted out ‘Marry me right now!’ How ridiculous!”

Around this time, there was a change of resident officers in the village.
The newly arrived police officer was a young man still in his late twenties.
Because he had often caught sneak thieves and secret meetings in town, he had been given charge of a police station overseeing an entire village.
In the village, since he was the only one wearing a uniform, his pure white police attire stood out glaringly.
Even during patrols, he wore meticulously polished shoes that gleamed and even wore gloves.
His sword and boots glittered so brightly as to be dazzling when passing through places like the wheat fields.
Unmarried, he stayed at the police station a few blocks from Komatsuya.

One morning, when dawn was still barely breaking.

Ishi was sleeping in the back while holding her youngest daughter when voices woke her.
It was too early for anyone to be up—who could it be?
What concerned her was how this unfamiliar male voice sounded rather agitated and seemed to come from near the shop.
Stepping on the hem of her nightclothes as she moved, Ishi went to check the front desk.
The front door hung with a white curtain still held remnants of night.
Looking around from the kitchen toward the wet veranda by the side door, Ishi instinctively rubbed her eyes.
Was that Roku standing dejectedly beside the myoga field soaked with dew?
Before her stood a man in yukata rigidly upright with a stern face—Ishi knew this meant trouble.
It was the police officer.

She returned, properly fastened her obi, and came back.
Then, casually sliding open the storm shutters on the veranda, she acted as though noticing the two for the first time, with a look of genuine puzzlement—

“Oh,” she exclaimed in a low voice. “...Could that be... the officer sir over there?”

The young police officer gave Ishi a sullen glare.
Ishi thrust her geta on and stepped out into the wet vacant lot.

“Oh… Well now, what’s this? I thought it was someone… Why, it’s Miss Roku! Is there something we’ve done?”

The officer snapped with finality, refusing to be taken in.

“You can see why,” he said, gesturing at her disheveled appearance.

Roku still wore her geta, but her obi hung undone.
She seemed to have returned from somewhere, a single leaf clinging to her tangled hair.
Ishi was baffled.
Being perceived as a simpleton herself troubled her most of all.
Ishi shouted at Roku:

“When did you sneak out? Where’ve you been?!”
“You’ve gone and bothered the officer!”
“Don’t tell me you went stealing? Answer properly!”
“Thanks to you, I’m caught up in this absurd mess too!”

While pulling Roku’s hand, Ishi said to the police officer.

"My deepest apologies—truthfully, this woman here isn’t all there, you see. Why, just recently she went missing and such… Even if she stays at home, should she have done something against the law, there’s nothing to be done about it. We’d be ever so grateful if you’d investigate properly—it would help establish our innocence too. But standing like this… Here now, please do take a seat right here for a moment."

Ishi brought out a zabuton to the veranda.
The police officer awkwardly lowered himself onto the edge of the zabuton.
At the noise, Seki too got up and came over.
She looked back and forth between Roku standing dejectedly and the stern police officer, her expression fearful.
She asked Ishi in a whisper.

“What happened, Roku?”

Ishi answered in a loud, discontented voice.

“Well, I still don’t know that myself.”

The police officer asked while looking Seki over as if inspecting her.

“Are you always sleeping with this woman?”

“Yes.”

“While sleeping together, didn’t you realize she was sneaking out?”

His glossy, ruddy face appeared spiteful at that moment.
He felt a peculiar excitement stirring within.
After all, places with famous temples always seemed to breed moral decay.
Now that they'd stationed him in this village, he was determined to flex his authority should he find any regulatory violations.
As he aimlessly wandered through the dawn air, a woman had emerged from the cedar thicket near ×× Temple.
When he'd questioned her on impulse—more out of habit than suspicion—she turned out to be a maid from Komatsuya.
Asked about her destination and purpose, she couldn't give a proper answer.
He'd felt that intuitive spark—the thrill of potential wrongdoing.
And so he'd dragged her all the way back to the inn.

The police officer interrogated Roku in an insistent tone.

"What's your full name?"

Roku, completely terrified, raised her pale, swollen face and stared fixedly at the police officer’s face.
“What’s your surname?”

“…Yamada.”

“What’s your given name?”

“...Roku.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

Ishi found it detestable that even in such an unexpected moment, the police officer properly took out his notebook and recorded every detail.

“Who arranged for you to come to this house?”

Ishi interjected, not wanting to lose face.

“Mr. Juuji the cattle dealer couldn’t bear to see her struggling here, so he brought her in on a trial basis out of kindness.”
“It hasn’t even been a full month yet.”

The police officer continued the interrogation without so much as glancing at Ishi.

"You came out of ×× Temple earlier—what were you doing inside?"

“Oh my! You went to ×× Temple...”

“Hey! What were you doing there? If you don’t tell me properly, I’ll have to take you to the station and investigate.”

Roku made a pitiful face and began to cry.

“I’m sorry… I…”

“What am I supposed to do? Crying won’t solve anything—speak clearly!”

“I…”

Roku sobbed even more violently.

“I... I didn’t steal anything. I just went to see Mr. Gon... Mr. Gon over there.”

“Who’s this Gon?”

“...It’s Mr. Gon.”

The police officer tapped the notebook with a short pencil.

“Just Mr. Gon alone doesn’t explain anything.”

“...Oh, so that man is Mr. Gon? The bulging-eyed one who carried off the futon the other day?”

Roku nodded in understanding.
Ishi explained with a smack of her lips.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Mr. Gon here does something like temple handyman work at ×× Temple—though really, he’s just a bit too soft-hearted for his own good, you see.”

“Hmm.”

The police officer appeared slightly less interested.
He stroked his chin with one hand while thinking, then asked again.

“Where were you before?”

“In town.”

“Kamakura?”

“Yes.”

“You were doing ×× or something there too, weren’t you?”

“You must be joking!”

Ishi responded haughtily.

“You’d understand if you saw for yourself.”

“I’m questioning her directly.—Is this your first time sleeping with a man?”

From the corner of her tear-smeared eyes, Roku stole a glance at the police officer and shuddered.

“Did something happen in town too?”

This was a farcical interrogation.
Roku earnestly,

“—Yes, that milkman was…”

she confessed.
However, when asked which milkman it was, Roku knew neither his name nor address.
The police officer, having lost his initial tension, pressed on with question after question as if amused by Roku’s foolishness,

“Then what else? Any more?”

he asked.
Roku, fearing she might be thrown in jail if she hid anything, answered with complete honesty.

“No… That officer too…”

The police officer,

“Hmm.”

He let out an odd cough.
How Ishi must have wanted to burst out laughing.

“Is that all?”

Roku appeared even more at a loss.
She wiped her tears over and over with the back of her hand and finally said.

“The child… the child…”

Ishi widened her eyes.

"What’s this about a child? You’ve got one?"

Roku nodded again in understanding.

“Where’s it?
“At your parents’ place?”

Roku shook her head.
Ishi stared at Roku with such intensity that her pupils seemed to converge.

“You... So your stomach’s huge, huh?”
“So...”

Roku gave a firm nod.
Everyone fell silent.
The police officer soon stood up restlessly.

“Well then… In any case, since this matter appears to have come from the person’s own will, I’ll overlook it for now… Just make sure to be cautious from now on.”
“If anything happens, it won’t do any good for the inn either.”

“Well… Truly…”

After sending off the police officer, Ishi chain-smoked cigarettes.
The Master, who had been keeping to himself, emerged.

“Ain’t no helpin’ it—bein’ saddled with that kinda trash…”

“If we’d known from the start, nobody would’ve kept her.”

“You’re so damn clueless—for a woman, can’t you even read a situation?”

Ishi glared at the Master with contempt.

“—What’s the point squabblin’ like some old married couple? You’re too long in the tooth for this nonsense.”
“That damn officer’s got his eye on us now—gonna be a right pain for ages yet.”

Ishi had been pondering something intently, but in the afternoon when her hands were free, she called Seki.

“Sorry to trouble you, but could you go to XX Temple and bring that Mr. Gon here?”

“What do you need such a man for?”

“Well, just leave it to me—I won’t do you wrong… Can’t be helped—we’ll have Roku stay with him.”

“Even if we pair them up, she comes with baggage!”

“…………”

Gon came immediately, with his bulging eyes protruding anxiously.
It seemed he had heard from Seki about this morning’s resolution; he nervously folded his striped kimono at the knees and bowed.

“Thank you for kindly coming, Mr. Gon. There’s something I need to discuss—shall we move to the back room?”

Seki brought simmered eggplant and sake.
After about an hour, Ishi’s cheerful loud voice could be heard.

“Roku!
Come here a moment.”

When Roku, in the kitchen, heard the voice, her limbs stiffened all the more.

“Come here!
Hurry up and come here! It’s good news!”

“See? She says it’s good news!”
“Go hear it out quick.”

Seki pushed from behind as the two entered the tatami rooms.
When Roku saw Gon sitting there with an earnest expression, she immediately broke into a sly grin.
Gon maintained exaggerated formality.
Ishi spoke in a tone utterly unlike this morning’s—

“My, you’re smiling… To be that happy—how enviable.”

she suddenly taunted.

“Now I’ll have you give your thanks.”
“I put in a word for you, and Mr. Gon here’s agreed to make you his wife proper.”
“You’ll be a genuine married woman this time—no pretending.”

Roku, vaguely rubbing the corner of her slightly parted mouth with her finger, looked from Ishi to Gon, then from Gon to Seki. At last, comprehension seemed to dawn on her. Roku narrowed her eyes smaller and smaller until they formed an utterly indescribable smile. Seki and Ishi burst out laughing in unison.

"What's with that face?"
"It's melting right off, I swear."
"Look at me playing matchmaker—ohhhh..."

"Madam... but really... I mean..."

“Well, that’s my responsibility now, Mr. Gon.
Please be sure to treat her well for years to come.”

Gon kept his expression unchanged,

“Huh,”

he said.

He said to Roku, who kept looking only at him and laughing aimlessly.

“If that’s settled, I’ll come every night from now on. I’ll call you ‘you,’ for sure.”
“Got that?”

“Even ‘you’—hahaha—‘you’ won’t do—hahaha!”

Without so much as listening to the madam’s uproarious laughter, Roku answered meekly, “Yes,” in a blissful daze.