Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

A streetcar ran along the main thoroughfare out front.
Trucks also passed by.
At times, large groups of soldiers would form four columns and march past with a thudding rhythm—the clinking of leather gear and metallic fittings.
They all kicked up dust.
Moreover, it being spring, with daily winds blowing from the drill ground's direction, the dust hanging in the air defied description.
It clung to the glass.
The glass remained clouded as if coated with a layer of light brown powder blown from outside.
How many years had passed since anyone last wiped this large balcony's windows?

The floor was covered with corrugated iron.
Old and sagging in places, it made loud clanging sounds when walked upon.
It felt like walking on a roof.
Fusa slipped on an old pair of slippers and, careful to muffle any noise, searched for some sealed glass door she might be able to open.

In its heyday as a grand Western restaurant with proper chairs and tables, this space must have been pleasant enough. But sitting now in this grimy Western-style room with tatami mats spread across the floor, the perpetually sealed balcony felt unbearably stifling.
The entrance was divided by a three-foot Western-style door.
The east-facing two-bay window—adorned with fine hexagonal-patterned glass panels—offered little airflow.
Worse yet, carelessly opening it risked letting who-knows-what creep in from the neighboring rickshaw garage’s second floor—less than two feet away—right into her sleeping area. To get any proper ventilation, they had no choice but to depend on the glass panes of that large south-facing balcony overlooking the street—

Fusa peered over the railing—its pale blue paint cracked and weathered by years of dust—and tried pushing various spots.
Even when she put her strength into pulling the bars that still bore the marks of her fingers, the crucial glass remained unmoving, with only the corrugated iron floor beneath her feet clanging and clanging.
Fusa found it both irritating and absurd.
It seemed there was nothing to do but wait until Shino, the room’s owner, returned.

Fusa gave up and returned to the room.
She sat down at the makeshift lacquered-paper desk under the east window—placed there more for form than function.
There was a single month-old copy of Fujokai magazine, its pages curled at every corner.
Fusa tried to calm herself by idly flipping through the frontispiece photographs.
But she couldn’t sit still at the desk—her back felt restless.
She twirled around once atop the thin chintz cushion before pressing her back against the desk and repositioning herself.
The vast eleven-mat room spread out before her eyes.
The tatami mats’ cheap Ryukyu-style covers made the space appear even more barrenly expansive.
What a pitiable state it was.
Fusa marveled that Shino had endured living here for a full year.
The walls wore floral-patterned wallpaper so faded its colors blurred—torn sections left unrepaired.
Nothing resembling proper furniture existed.
A small corner brazier with a pitted surface sat forlornly before the cupboard.
Shino’s cotton flannel nightgown—discarded when she left—hung limply from a clothes rack.
Only the presence of a single koto hinted that a woman inhabited this space.
——Fusa stood up at last.
She opened the cupboard, retrieved a chirimen wallet from its basket, and stepped outside.

In the corner of the large balcony, a low sink had been installed.
A two-tier shelf had been hung above it, forming a makeshift kitchen.
As Fusa was beginning to prepare dinner there, Shino came home clattering up the stairs in her geta.
When Fusa—filled with a friendly warmth and wiping her hands on her apron as she rushed out—met Shino’s gaze, Shino

“Oh my, I feel so strange—like I’m happy yet embarrassed at the same time,” she burst out laughing. “Having someone waiting when I come home—that’s completely new for me.”

Fusa stood watching as Shino removed her hakama trousers.

“The dust outside is unbearable.”
“Changing into your kimono?”
“Do you think I can afford such luxuries? Someone like me only has one set of everyday clothes and work outfits.—So? You weren’t bored waiting alone?”

“Hmm—but this room really is dreadful when you see it in daylight—how do you get that glass to open?”

Shino, while neatly tying her half-width obi, glanced around the room with upturned eyes.

“Where?”

“The front part—I thought if that opened up it’d get nice and airy, but…”

“Ah, that one.
That one’s no good.”

Shino, petite and youthful for twenty-three, threw back her white throat and giggled brightly.

“That one won’t open—it’s nailed shut, you know.”

“What are you going to do in summer? It’ll get so stuffy!”

“There’s no need to worry about that now—actually—last summer I left that one wide open all night and made such a racket, then got chewed out by a policeman—and that Mr. Kami downstairs—there was no dealing with him, just spiteful through and through…”

The second floor was rented out one room at a time, while downstairs operated as an ice dealer.

After putting away the kimono, Shino briefly brushed back her hair,

“Let me see,” she said, starting to fasten her apron.

“Thank you so much. I’ll help.”

“It’s fine today—today, for the housewarming, I’ll treat you as my guest.”

“Oh, really?”
“Lovely, lovely!”
“Go all out and treat me!”
“Then I’ll just sit here chatting away, okay?”

Shino rolled up her white calico apron and tossed it aside, then sat down in front of the desk.
Fusa went to the balcony kitchen through the window lattice.
A hushed stillness settled.
From the glass veiled in dusty lace came the clamor of twilight.
The treetops of street trees with budding young leaves and the faint glimmer of advertising lamps were visible.

“Hey, Shino-san, where should I throw these things away?”

Shino responded in a voice as if suddenly roused from a dream.

“Huh?”

“Where do we throw the trash?”

“Just leave it there—I’ll take it downstairs once it’s dark…”

Without looking at her face—listening only to that voice from the shadows—Fusa sensed her exhaustion and pitied her.
Shino worked as a telephone office clerk.

When everything was ready, Fusa carried out an ikkanbari desk beneath the electric lamp.

“—How very formal!”

“But—how did you manage before? All this time—”

“It’s too much trouble, so I’ve just been making do here lately.”

“Tonight, it’s more proper.”

Fusa, grinning mischievously, brought over the anemone flowers she had deliberately hidden.

“How about this?
Not too shabby, eh?
I’ll put these right here for decoration.”

She placed a glass vase with red anemones beside the side table, then immediately retrieved it and came back in carrying Western-style plates in both hands.

“This, like this, see?”

“Oh! Steak?”

Shino had been watching Fusa’s actions with mild surprise, but when she saw the beef steak accompanied by appetizingly flour-dusted potatoes, she finally showed genuine interest and marveled.

“You—you’ve become so high-collar now.”
“Was the Suda household really such a high-collar place?”

“That’s not really the case, but…”

Fusa moved about energetically, both from having worked and from the satisfaction of having successfully surprised her friend in the fun way she’d hoped.

“Well, aren’t you going to eat?”

Shino praised the clear soup’s flavor and complimented how well the meat was grilled，growing animated as she began to eat，but before finishing half her meal，she suddenly set down her chopsticks.
Fusa，startled，stopped eating too.

“Why—did something happen?”

When she looked，Shino sat completely flushed，on the verge of tears while staring intently at her.
Fusa hurriedly scooted closer.

“What’s wrong？ Seriously！”
“Really！”

“It’s nothing—I just…”

Trying hard to force a smile, she finally managed to speak in a rush,

“I just felt so strangely sad!”

No sooner had she spoken than tears suddenly came streaming from both of Shino’s eyes.
While tears streamed down, she wiped them away haphazardly and managed an awkward smile.

“I’m sorry—really, I just suddenly felt so overwhelmed… Being able to eat a meal like this—I absolutely hate living alone! When I want simmered greens and buy komatsuna—”
“No matter how small a bunch I buy, I can’t finish it in one meal—so I end up eating komatsuna again the next day and the day after that—until finally I get so mad I just want to kick it all away!”

Somberly yet growing more cheerful, they finished their meal.
They then went out for a walk.
As Shino was about to sleep,

“Oh, did you see the neighbor?”
she asked.

“No… Was she here during the day too?”

“Yeah, she’s been around lately—since she’s a woman who works at the likes of a café, you probably shouldn’t get too involved with her.”

Fusa simply,

“I see.”
Fusa replied.

二

It was about twenty days ago.

One evening, Fusa went to the doctor.
For about a month prior, she had been feeling that her health was not as it had been all winter.
Since last fall, when she had entered the Suda household as a middle servant, she had been fine, but as the weather grew warmer, her condition had instead worsened.
On nights when there were guests requiring constant trips up and down the stairs, the weariness in her limbs combined with nervous agitation would leave her body uncomfortably feverish, making it impossible to sleep a wink.
Two years prior, she had suffered from pleurisy and been bedridden for an extended period.
Recalling this and urged on by the housewife, she had gone to see the doctor.
The examination revealed that her fears had been groundless.
However, it was determined that complete rest was absolutely necessary.

“If you take a good two or three months’ rest now, there’ll be nothing to worry about at all.”
“But if you keep working like this, it won’t do—I’ll have a proper talk with the mistress too.”
“For now, just go home and let your mother spoil you for a good long while.”

Fusa walked along the street lined with night stalls, absently lost in thought.
It was an unseasonably windless night in early spring, with a beautiful sky.
She stopped by the corner cosmetics shop and bought a pin.
She wove through ribbons, obi fasteners, and half-collars hanging like colorful curtains in varying lengths, and peered into the display case.
Spread with navy velvet, in a sea of intense candlelight, the recently popular beadwork bags and openwork decorative pins shone without casting shadows.
Right beside her ear, a young girl’s whispering voice sounded.

“Hey, I want that one! That one has the best style!”

A motherly voice, somewhat resembling her daughter’s, whispered in an even smaller tone that still reached her ears.

“But—that one’s genuine—”

“No—look, that one over there—”

The girl pressed her plump bangs against the glass and eagerly pointed with her pinky toward the decorative pin she wanted.

“The third one from the right—first, second, third—understand?”
“That one, right?”

Fusa, drawn in by the mother and daughter’s tender interaction and the girl’s focused expression, instinctively looked where the little finger pointed.
There lay a stylish celluloid tortoiseshell pin—indistinguishable from genuine at a glance—flamboyantly splayed in a shape recalling Carmen’s theatrical poses.
Age-wise, Fusa differed little from this daughter coaxing her mother with childlike gestures.
The clinic visit, the doctor’s words, her own lack of a mother to lean on like this girl—all coalesced within Fusa until she felt acutely alone amid the bustling night promenade.
Her chest constricted as if cinched by wire.
Biting back tears through habit, she jutted her chin defiantly and strode toward the exit.
Just then, a woman darted sideways to block her path.
Emotions surging, Fusa tried slipping past without identifying the obstacle.
But the blocking woman pressed closer still, demanding attention through an invasive yet playful stare.

“Wait! That guy—have you forgotten?”

Fusa instantly glared with a stern face.

“Oh… you.”

As her mood abruptly softened, she was struck by an emotion that left her at a loss for how to respond.

“Oh—how did you know? But—oh my—I truly never thought we’d meet in a place like this!”

Shino remained far more composed than Fusa.

“Earlier when I happened to pass by here, I saw someone who looked just like you! I thought it couldn’t possibly be you, but just to check I came closer—and it really was you after all!”

Compared to her supplementary course days, Shino had become so womanly she seemed like a different person. She tilted her fluffy black-brown bangs and laughed, shrugging her shoulders in her merino jacket as if greatly amused.

"That face of yours—still exactly like it used to be."

Fusa was concerned about the time to return, yet having no intention of ending this unexpected encounter here and now, she asked hurriedly:

"And where are you now?"

"Me?—And you?"

“I’m staying just up that hill and to the left—the Suda household.”

“Oh, that place? I pass by there every day—I work at the telephone office, renting a room at the ice shop near the bus stop…”

Shino, saying she had time to spare anyway, escorted Fusa all the way to the Suda house.

Four or five days later, Fusa went to the ice shop’s second floor.

Wet sawdust was scattered across the concrete shop front that resembled a garage.
She climbed the side stairs in her outdoor shoes—.
At the top of the stairs stood two doors side by side, with another at a right angle to them.
They were illuminated by a five-candlepower electric light that seemed abandoned.—

Shino was in the middle of the large room changing the collar of her undergarment.

“Oh, you actually came! I’ll be done soon, so come on in.”

Even in such a desolate building, Shino remained cheerful and unperturbed, her face like a white flower with large petals, so Fusa too finally regained her composure.

“Tonight—since I got time off—I can take it easy now.”
“I even brought work along.”

Fusa felt such joy on the night she met Shino that she couldn’t stay silent after returning home.
There happened to be a refashioned meisen garment that the mistress was about to send out for tailoring.
She had brought it to supplement Shino’s sideline work.

Shino sat sideways while fiddling with the sewing materials with her fingertips.
Fusa felt disappointed.
But she added an explanation meant to lift up her companion.

“It might be tedious since it’s alterations, but please sew it really well. Then I’ll make sure to entrust all the mistress’s future work to you.”

“This is fine as it is—but you’re so kind, thank you.
“…How’s your health?”

“It’s the same.”

“Aren’t you going back to your hometown?”

Fusa gave a wry smile.

“But—even you wouldn’t want to go back if you couldn’t return triumphantly, would you?”

Shino vehemently denied this.

“It’s different for me—your family’s wealthy, aren’t they? You came here purely by choice...”

“Because I left after a quarrel, you see.”

“You stubborn thing! There’s nobody else like you—still acting like some eternal student! If you keep this up, things will only get worse.”
“You’ll drop dead!”
“I’ll take my leave and rest properly.”
Shino grimaced as she pressed further.
“Resting properly—what’ll you do? If you quit your current household... you’ll be stuck.”
“I can manage taking March or April off.”

The two fell silent and ate the bananas Fusa had brought as a gift.
Suddenly, Shino said in a tone so lively it seemed to bounce off the ceiling.

“I have wonderful news! Don’t you want to come here?”

Fusa was momentarily at a loss for a response.

“Well, the place is pretty dirty, but it’s still carefree here—actually better than staying with some ordinary family.”
“And each room is properly partitioned.”
“Since I’m out all day anyway, you can do as you please—and even if you suddenly rented a room somewhere unfamiliar, you’d surely be unbearably lonely.”

That hit the mark.
Fusa was strong-willed yet sensitive; when she imagined how the landladies of rented rooms would observe her—someone who didn’t go out to work and appeared weak without looking particularly well-off—she had indeed hesitated.

“And most importantly, think how much more economical it is than living alone!”

Shino spoke frankly in plain words.

“It would be such a relief for me too—my telephone office salary is just twenty-eight yen. If they take fourteen yen for rent, there’s no way I could manage.”
“That’s why I do sewing work—but even if I work all day and then strain my shoulders doing this… Well… If you aren’t against it, won’t you really come?”
“We’d each save half the rent—it’d help us both…”

Fusa returned home that night still undecided.
After visiting two or three times with sewing materials, the initial gloomy impression gradually began to fade.
Instead, certain convenient aspects remained.
Fusa, who had grown close to the Suda children and had been allowed to practice sewing on their machine, found it disagreeable to take a complete leave of absence for temporary convalescence.
Having a room four or five blocks away and, once her condition improved, going to fetch the boy from the household as a form of exercise—wouldn’t this make for a pleasantly balanced lifestyle with both leisure and variety?

Fusa moved in with a sense of anticipation.

III

The first Sunday was a sunny day with violently blowing winds.

With each raging gust, Fusa watched the fierce gale blast clouds of dust against the rattling balcony glass, fogging its surface as though mist were settling over it.

"—This kind of wind—it's my first time."

“This place is special—for some reason.”

Shino, wearing a haori jacket over just a decorative sash fastened beneath it, lay on her stomach reading a borrowed current affairs manga as she replied.

“It’s such a rare Sunday, but with this wind, I can’t even go out!”

Filthy glass, filthy building—the sunlight brightly streaming in only made it dustier, more distressing.
Fusa leaned against the corner wall and began knitting.
Lying on her stomach with her cheek propped up, Shino—who had now turned her attention to watching those hands—asked after a short while.

“What are you knitting?—That?”

“Hmm, what do you call it... I don’t know the name.”
“They showed me in a foreign magazine.”

“...What’s it going to be?”

“The young lady’s sweater.”

When she grew tired of watching, Shino reached out and took a hand mirror from the small shelf beside her.
She opened the mirror, held it in one hand, and with the fingers of her other hand, kept plucking out nose hairs.
She stuck out her rounded chin, fixed her eyes intently, and pulled hard—but the hairs stubbornly refused to come out.
She pulled with determination, each time making a face as if tickled.
Fusa finally burst out laughing.

“What are you doing? Hahaha!”

Caught up in the moment, Shino also burst out laughing.

“—But there’s no one as careless about their appearance as you—you’ve had that same hairstyle since our school days, haven’t you?”

“I guess so.”

“You should try to fix it up a bit more.”
“It’s rather sad for you to have the same hairstyle at eighteen or nineteen and even past twenty.”

Before long，Shino，

“Here, let me try styling it a bit for you.”

she casually moved behind Fusa.
She skillfully began combing the long, abundant hair.

“You have so much hair—if it were me, I’d style it into something lovely—people can change so much with the right hairdo it’s almost shocking!”

Bringing out her own hairbrush and even a side comb, Shino began styling it into a Western-style hairdo like the one she herself wore.

“Here, hold this.”

She had Fusa hold the mirror. Each time she shaped a section, “How’s this?” From behind, she pressed her face close and peered into the mirror herself. “Isn’t it nice? You look utterly adorable now.” Fusa said with a look of curiosity yet evident discomfort. “My hair’s too thick and coarse for this—it’ll never hold a style like that.” “Since it won’t hold properly, of course it won’t become ideal all at once.—Just sit quietly and watch.”

As it took shape, Fusa was troubled by the thick hair.

“I really hate this! Me—
“I don’t even look like myself anymore with this!”

“Let me see.”

Shino nimbly moved to the front and inspected her work.

“Don’t be ridiculous!
“Ta-da! Now you’re all chic!”

While they were playing around, the clattering of geta ascending the stairs sounded.

“Oh—was Ms. Ashizawa out?”

However, the clattering of geta didn’t head to the neighboring room—it stopped before Shino’s door.

“Good day.”

Shino, still holding the comb and straining to listen, made an extremely annoyed face when she heard the voice.

What business could they have?

“If it were me, I wouldn’t mind.”

“It’s fine.”

Shino stood up and stomped off without bothering to adjust her appearance.

“Mr. Asada—are you here?”

Shino opened the door while using her body to block the entrance.

“Good day—when did you get here?”

“A little while ago.”

“…Not today.”

“Is someone there?”

“My friend—Fusa-san here—”

In hushed tones too quiet to make out, the two exchanged whispers.

“But—that’s no good, you see? So…”

Shino’s voice, which had risen in a pleading tone, sank back into hushed whispers.
Before long,

“Well then, goodbye.”

Shutting the door with a bang and returning inside, Shino stuck out her tongue as if to mask her embarrassment.
Fusa felt slightly uncomfortable.

“Wasn’t I in the way?”

“It’s fine—that guy’s nothing.”

“Who was that?”

“A man who used to work downstairs—he’s gone now—ugh, he’s such a nuisance—Oh—you’re undoing it?”

With a cheerfulness that felt somewhat forced, Shino began fiddling with her hair again—

A few nights after forgetting this incident, Shino and Fusa were quietly doing their respective work under the lamp.
Shino was sewing; Fusa was knitting.
A hushed late spring evening seemed to fill the desolate room with its stillness.
Fusa felt peaceful and fulfilled.
She occasionally raised her head and looked at Shino.
Shino too, her mind soothed by the gentle night, was absorbed in her needlework.
This tranquility was rare for Shino.
She was usually either agitated or else slovenly.

From time to time, a streetcar passed by.
On the tatami mats, scissors glinted.
……

Fusa, without meaning to listen, caught a snippet of what seemed to be a whistle from the young man downstairs.
It sounded like a dance tune—the kind often heard on records lately.
It was a remarkably skillful whistle.
After a while, it stopped.
Laughter sounded downstairs.
Well-worn bamboo knitting needles, silk-blend yarn gliding smoothly, the pure stillness surrounding them.
The three fell into harmonious rhythm, and as their hearts became absorbed, the earlier whistle suddenly erupted from alarmingly close by.
It blew vigorously for a while and then fell silent.
After a pause, this time it rang out sharply in two-note bursts: Hwee-hwee!

Fusa involuntarily looked at Shino’s face.
Shino wore a thoroughly fed-up expression.
She hurriedly stopped Fusa—who was about to speak—with her eyes.
Beckoning, she made Fusa lean closer and whispered into her ear.
“Could you go check by opening the door just a crack?”
As if spurring them on, the whistle sounded again at the stair landing.
Shino pressed her palms together pleadingly at Fusa, who stood rooted in place.
She rubbed her fingertips anxiously.
Fusa swiftly opened the door from inside and peered down the corridor in the dim light of a five-candlepower bulb crusted with fly specks.
The man stood facing the door.
But upon seeing her, he abruptly turned away and—with affected nonchalance, as if waiting for another tenant—leaned against the window frame and swung his legs idly.

IV

Perhaps because the weather had improved, Shino began frequently making detours on her way home from work.
After putting away dinner, there were times when she would go out again.

“Fusa-san, why don’t you come along too?”
“He’s also from the old office—a really interesting guy, I tell you.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Then how about keeping me company just that far?”

When returning late, Shino would look around the room with a concerned air and ask Fusa.

“No one came while I was out?”

Two or three times,

“Didn’t the person from Ms. Ashizawa’s place come?”

she also asked things like.

While Shino was out, Fusa lived a monotonous life, either going to the bathhouse or spending a few hours in the maid’s room and children’s room at Suda’s house before returning. That monotonous idleness appeared physiologically necessary, and Fusa was not bored in the least.

The full scope of Shino’s life was gradually coming into focus. As she had vaguely surmised from the beginning, several men who had yet to appear before her—neatly dressed yet unreliable, but with an oddly nonchalant air—seemed to be surrounding Shino. Shino, wary for some reason, never spoke a word to Fusa about that aspect of her life.

After days of relentless scorching heat, a gentle rain began to fall around midnight.
When she suddenly awoke to the pattering sound of raindrops on the tin roof, Fusa felt a surge of happiness.
When she woke from a deep sleep, it was after Shino had already left.
The rain still had not stopped.
The soft, dense patter of rain on the roof; the tranquil sound of droplets; even the rumble of streetcars reached her ears as a blurred, distant murmur.
Fusa felt as though the long-awaited rain had moistened her very soul, and while languidly combing her hair, she gazed at the outside scenery from within the unopenable balcony.
The wet young leaves of the ginkgo trees lining the street appeared in an extraordinarily vivid green, as if melting through the rainwater streaming down the glass.
Below, the red postbox looked charming too.
Fusa ate bread spread with her favorite strawberry jam and drank milk.
She listened to the sound of the rain without growing tired of it.
Though the falling rain is uniform, the sound differs depending on where it drips.—

In the afternoon, Fusa went downstairs.
When she came back up, the door to Ashizawa’s room next door was unusually open.
In the corridor—which Fusa had to pass through to reach her room—a woman with a glossy round chignon and showy attire sat facing that direction, adjusting her sandal thongs.
When Fusa approached, the woman naturally raised her head.

“What a lovely rain we’re having.”

Her tone flowed smoothly.
Fusa flushed.

“It really is.”

The woman stood up, flapping her apron.

“Do come over for a little chat—it’s fine, there’s no one here now.”

She was such a pleasant woman that it came as a surprise.

The room was eight tatami mats in size and, though furnished with cheap items like chests of drawers and charcoal braziers, was fully equipped with all the household necessities.
Both the cushions and mirror covers were entirely of vivid merino fabric.

“The fact that you’re here—I heard it from the caretaker downstairs… How do you find it?”
“Have you come to like it here?”

Fusa smiled silently.
“Your place is so wonderfully clean!”
The woman looked pleased,
“It’s not too bad, right?”
she said.
“This house is practically falling apart, isn’t it? —We ought to at least keep our own space comfortable— Oh goodness, here I am chatting away without even introducing myself!”

Ms. Ashizawa laughed in a sisterly manner.

“I heard your name from downstairs though…”

“Fusa—pleased to meet you.”

“Ah yes yes, Miss Fusa—what a lovely name! Isn’t it absurd? I share my name with Mori Ritsuko—same name but with this moonface of mine—doesn’t amount to anything at all!”

Ritsu talked about how her workplace café was currently closed for renovations, how she’d already worked there three years becoming its most senior employee.

“Even as a senior it means little really—but there’s a reason I can’t quit… One more year—until my brother graduates from M University—and you? Were you with Ms. Shino?”

“Yes, during the supplementary course in my hometown—”

“Oh, so you weren’t at the same telephone office?”

Fusa briefly explained her circumstances.

“Oh my, I thought you’d been together all this time—is that so? Then you don’t know much about her after all—she’s fine now, but when she first came here, well, it was simply beyond words.”

Fusa stayed for about two hours and returned to her room.—She couldn’t bring herself to do anything right away.

Was it because of such things that Shino had kept her guard up against people like the neighbor and the café waitress?

Around six o'clock, Shino returned.

“How awful! How awful! Look at this—see? The car’s mudguard isn’t doing a thing!”

As she was about to take her indigo kasuri raincoat with the upturned collar out to the balcony to dry, she suddenly noticed the hanshi-wrapped package on the desk.

“Oh—”

Shino looked at Fusa with a glare-like sidelong glance.

“You went to the neighbor’s place?”

“Yes.”

“Was it fun?—They always have these sweets at that person’s place.”

Crouching down, Shino put a small, square candy—wrapped like silkworm-silk thread—into her mouth. Striving not to dwell on it yet finally seeming unable to resist, she asked with an ambiguous smile that could shift at any moment.

“Did you hear anything interesting? …You were talking about me, weren’t you?”

Fusa said calmly and seriously.

“You heard all sorts of things.”

“…”

Shino had been silently looking at her face but suddenly grabbed Fusa’s hand and pulled it toward herself.

“Hey, you believe me, don’t you? Huh?”

“About believing you—is this about the rumors? Everything that person said—because you acted so strangely secretive, I ended up feeling somehow…”

“But… I couldn’t say such things—it’s too embarrassing. ……You got angry? Don’t you want to live with a woman like me anymore?”

Fusa felt a pang of tenderness—and a sorrow that reached deep into her own heart.

“It wasn’t like that at all—wasn’t it just one of life’s misfortunes?”

“—Do you really mean that?”

Shino’s face grew teary with emotion.

“As long as you think that way, I’m truly grateful.”
“I was worried, you see.”

And she said with a joyful smile that could move any beholder’s heart.

“Ah, I feel so unburdened!”

With relief from understanding her companion’s feelings and relief from no longer needing to hide anything, Shino began pouring out the hardships of that time all at once.

“That feeling—I truly can’t put it into words.”
“That man—Imaizumi or whatever—after leaving the estate, claimed I’d rented a second-floor room in Kōbai-chō where I could sleep peacefully. Not that I thought he was lying! I went searching everywhere… Walked around endlessly but there’s no Iimura house or anything. Finally found a police box to ask—they said east or west or something.”
“The town was split into east and west, that Kōbai-chō!”
“When I said it was just Kōbai-chō, that policeman smirked at me, you know.”
“Then he asked for the address number.”
“When I said ‘Block 1069,’ he told me no such address exists anywhere—I—”

Shino,

“Ah—just remembering makes me want to retch.”

Shino sighed.

“But you know, Ms. Imai—the midwife—was so kind that I was saved. I just happened to see the sign and went in.”
“……That old woman knew about this place, you see, so that’s how I ended up coming—actually—”

Fusa had been told up to that point by Ritsuko.
From that time onward, there had been one thing weighing on her mind.
Fusa asked in a low voice.

“And then—what happened—to the one who was born…”

“Ah,”
Shino answered quickly and nonchalantly.
“It died after about a week.”
When she heard that, Fusa shuddered for some reason.

Five

“Hey, Shino-san.”

One night, Fusa said earnestly.

“—You… how long do you plan to stay at your current office?”

Shino looked at Fusa with an innocent yet puzzled expression.

“Why?—So suddenly…”

“You should really go back to your hometown already.”

“You’re so strange!”

Shino bared her small, neatly aligned teeth in a hearty laugh.

“What on earth’s gotten into you—do you want to go back home?”

“That’s not it—but staying here forever won’t change anything.”

“That may be how it looks—but this is strange. What’s wrong with you?”

“If you won’t go back, let’s move out.”

At last having nearly grasped Fusa’s true feelings, Shino settled into a calmer state.

“It’s just my peculiar disposition—seeing you surrounded by rumors and stuck in this half-hearted, meager existence has become unbearable to me. You should commit—either work properly if you mean to work, or marry someone if you mean to marry—and make a clean break of it. That’s what I truly think would be best for you.”

“That’s exactly it—I’ve been thinking about that myself.”

Shino said honestly.

“Honestly, I’m utterly hopeless being so half-hearted—even if I worked five years at the office，that salary alone wouldn’t be enough to live securely，though it’s not just the office．Everywhere’s terrible．These days there’s nowhere that properly provides enough for a woman to get by alone without relying on anyone—but no matter what happens，would I ever go back to the countryside?”

“Why not?”

“Go back to your hometown and see—for a poor girl like me, no matter what I do, becoming a dockworker’s wife would be the absolute limit. On top of that, just imagine—if all sorts of things came out, you know—I wouldn’t even be able to lift my head in shame anymore. I refuse to live like that! In Tokyo there are more understanding people and society’s broader—if I just keep my conduct proper, even if I settle down, it’s not like I couldn’t find someone better than dockworkers.—Those like me who were left to bear children alone have to struggle and find our own fate anyway—”

“For that, you’d need to clean up your situation first—otherwise nobody would—”

Shino seemed lost in thought, murmuring to herself with a faint smile.

“But… just a little longer…”

“What do you mean?”

“……”

Tilting her head, Shino smiled—a smile overflowing with yearning and secret delight.

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

On Saturday, Fusa went to visit the Sudas.
The older daughter had coaxed Fusa into sewing clothes for a celluloid Kewpie doll, and Fusa returned home close to nine.
When she entered the shop’s entrance, the sound of a koto could be heard, more distinctly than usual.
Outside the door, a pair of men's sandals with black straps had been left.
Fusa, from outside,

“I’m back.”

she called out.

“Welcome back.”

Shino’s glossy voice responded loudly.

“You’re just in time!”

In the open window frame facing the balcony sat a fair-skinned man in a kimono.
Shino sat in the center of the room with her koto.

“Um—Fusa-san, the one I mentioned earlier—this is Mr. Ogaki.”
“He did work at the office before, but now he’s at a company, you know.”

“Oh, pleased to meet you.”

Ogaki lowered only his crossed legs and greeted her while keeping them on the window frame.

“I’ve heard so much about you.”

Shino asked Fusa.

“So, how was your visit to the Sudas? Was it interesting?”
“You just missed each other—Mr. Ogaki came by.”
“Right? Exactly.”

“Ah.—I’d been disappointed to hear you’d gone out.”
“Tell me—lately—have you seen any interesting pictures?”

Shino took over and answered.

“She hasn’t been to any at all.”

“—Well then, why don’t we all go sometime?”
“—I wonder what’s playing this week—Valentino—The Eagle was wonderful, wasn’t it?”

Shino boastfully proclaimed her treasure.

“Junkichi-san is such a movie buff—he’s even memorized all the foreign actors’ names, you know.”
“Right?”

Ogaki looked slightly pleased with himself.
“Oh,” he laughed.
“Nah, it’s not like that.”
Before long, Shino asked.

“Hey, Fusa-san, how old do you think Mr. Ogaki looks?”

“Well… you do put on a mature front, but you’re not that much older than Shino-san, are you?”

“Whoa now—that’s rather harsh.”
“How old do I look?”

“Let’s see… twenty-seven? Eight?—Anyway, more than five, right?”

“You guessed well—seven. I’m four years older than her.”

Fusa felt a smile involuntarily forming on her lips.

Ogaki stayed until around eleven o'clock.

After escorting him to the stairwell entrance and returning, Shino suddenly asked Fusa for her thoughts.

“Hey, so… what do you think? Him?”

“What do you mean—weren’t you the one who kept going to his place just the other day?”

Shino nodded, a lingering sparkle in her eyes.

“What do you think?”

“What do you mean by ‘how’?”

“You’re being mean!”

They laughed.

“Hey, be serious for real.”

Fusa recalled the words Shino had muttered in a trance while thinking some time ago.

“But—isn’t it already settled?”
“It’s completely settled between us, right?”
Shino made an unexpectedly earnest face.

“Do you understand?—You.”

“Oh come on—with the way you talk, anyone would…”

“Really?—I’ll just say it then! Look, I’m going to marry him soon—probably.”

“...Are you sure? Even though I don’t really know what kind of person he is.”

“Even at the telephone office, everyone says he’s a good, interesting person—well,”

Shino became slightly dejected.

“His salary’s still small now, but someone like me has no choice but to make it work through both of us earning from now on. Besides, I absolutely have to marry him—it’s urgent.”

Fusa felt uneasy and instinctively looked at Shino.

“You know that—the man who kept coming around making a fuss the other day? They say he used to work downstairs.”
“If I can’t be with Mr. Ogaki, I might have to marry that man, you know…”

It was from Tajuro—called Takou—that Shino had received both the koto she was now having Ogaki listen to and the merino cloth cover he had bought for her.

“I’ve been insisting that I have a prior commitment with Mr. Ogaki.”

When she next stopped by Ogaki’s place and returned, Shino whispered airily to Fusa.

“Hey! Junkichi-san said you’re like a fresh piece of fruit he really likes!”

“Oh, stop it!”

Shino warned in a tone that could be taken as either a joke or serious.

“If you were to fall for that man, I’d cut ties with you—I mean it.”

Ogaki also visited frequently.
They often made noise as if forgetting Fusa was there.
Before she knew it, Ogaki was,

“Oh! Terribly sorry, terribly sorry!”

he apologized.

“You should find yourself a partner too! Your restraint makes things difficult for us—ha ha ha!”

“That really is true.
“Hey—how about that Mr. Suzuki?”

“Let’s see…”

“Isn’t he nice?
“Fusa-san—you like the reliable, manly type, don’t you? They say Mr. Suzuki’s good at archery.”

“Please stop that.”

Fusa gave a wry smile at their absurd antics.

"You don’t have to go out of your way to find some archery expert just because it’s inconvenient for you both."

"I surrender! Meeting you, Fusa-san..."

Shino—

"Aah,"

she said, beating her chest with a white fist.

"I laughed so much my throat’s gone all dry—I want something to drink."

While boiling water, Shino found the cocoa tin Fusa had bought. She called out from the sink on the balcony. “Fusa-san, since there’s nothing else, could you lend me this cocoa for a bit?” Shino prepared some extra-sweet cocoa and brought it over. “Ah, delicious! How about it—don’t you want another cup?” “Yeah, make it a bit stronger.” “You—Fusa-san.”

“That’s enough.”

“Oh! Here’s something.”
“Can I serve this too?”

Without waiting for Fusa’s reply, Shino popped one or two into her mouth as she served Fusa’s reserved fried rice cakes to Ogaki.

VI

The end of the month arrived.

Shino kept calculating money matters.

"I'm really in trouble..."

Fusa remained silent.

“Hey, Fusa-san—I don’t have enough money—I need to give it to them downstairs—”

“What happened to your salary?”

“I had to pay back what I borrowed from the office last month, plus there was all the going out and buying sleeves for him—”

Shino had recently received a ruby ring from Ogaki.
In return, she had been sewing what appeared to be sheer silk sleeves for him to wear under his serge garments.

“I’m sorry, but could you please just this month pay three yen extra?”

“…………”

“I know it's awful how I've been counting on you like this, but please forgive me. It just galls me that Ms. O-Kami downstairs will think ‘Look at them—they can’t even pay the rent!’”

“You—this is your punishment for not doing any sewing at all!”

“That’s how it is. But lately—it’s just different, you see. In exchange, once I have a house, I’ll let you stay for two months—even three! Okay? I’ll never ask again, alright?”

Since Ogaki had started visiting frequently, Fusa found herself financially burdened.
When it came to entertaining Ogaki, Shino seemed to lose all distinction between her own belongings and others'.
Ogaki, too, wasn't much of a stickler in that regard.
Both of them possessed truly remarkable digestive capacities.
Before one knew it, the biscuits that should have been there were gone.
Just as she was wondering about this, Ogaki arrived on his next visit cheerful and bright—

“Those biscuits were tasty—don’t we have any more left?”

Ogaki pressed.

“You’re impossible! You found me out! Ha ha ha!”

Shino seemed to have been born with some peculiar virtue.
When she threw back her delicate throat and laughed with that crisp “ha ha ha,” Fusa simply couldn’t sustain her anger.
As if they’d discovered two friendly, hungry mice together, her irritation abruptly dissolved.

“You’re so stingy! If I keep seeing you two, I’ll go bankrupt!”

And with a laugh, she found herself swallowing the loss.

On a day when the following day was a holiday, Shino left early in the morning.
Around eleven o'clock—from the stairway entrance—

“Ahh... I’m completely spent.”

her voice came.
Fusa, unable to wait any longer, went to investigate.
Someone had followed behind.

“You’re not alone?”

“—I”

It was Ogaki.
Shino,
“There.”

With that, she let Ogaki enter the room first, sat down on the tatami, and immediately began massaging her legs.

“There’s just no such thing as a house when you actually try to look.”
“A small, decent house? Doesn’t exist when you go searching.”

“Where on earth did you two even go looking?”

“Hongo and Kanda—we heard there was a friend living near Nippori and went to check it out, but no luck after all.”

“If you go to the suburbs, I suppose that would work...”

“No, no—the suburbs are out of the question for me.
Today—
Being crushed to death in some cramped hole? No thank you.”

They wiped their faces in the dim balcony area.

“Fusa-san—have you been here all along? At my—”

“I stepped out for a bit.”

“If it rains tomorrow, we’ll be in real trouble.”

Ogaki returned to the room first.
He touched the silk-thread knitting Fusa was working on.

“Fusa-san, you’re quite skilled at knitting. This one’s different from the last, isn’t it?”

“It’s not.”

“What do you mean? What do you mean it’s different?”

Shino interjected from afar.

“Knitting—when winter comes, maybe I’ll have you knit me a stylish muffler too.”

Shino, brushing back her hair as she entered,
“If it’s just a muffler, I’ll knit one for you,”
she said.

“Oh ho!”

Shino suddenly blushed.

“What’s with the ‘Oh ho’?”

“Because ‘Oh ho’ is ‘Oh ho,’ see?”

“You jerk!”

“Be quiet, you two! It’s late enough as it is.”
“It’s late enough.”

The two who had been about to start fooling around were startled into silence.
Fusa, while keeping her head down as if sullen, continued moving her knitting needles at an incredible speed.
Shino giggled quietly and exchanged a glance with Ogaki.
Ogaki also grinned slyly and nodded.
At that moment, Fusa abruptly raised her head and looked at the two.

“Whoa—terrifying!”

At this, Fusa also laughed.

“Well, there’s always tomorrow—let’s go to sleep.”
“Let Junkichi-san stay over tonight!”

“What about bedding?”

“It’s fine—we’ll manage somehow, right?”

“Yeah.”

Fusa positioned her feet toward the east window,
Shino brought a bag of salted peas into the bedding.

“Won’t you have some too?”

Fusa heard the voice as if in a dream.

The next day was refreshingly fine weather.
Shino vigorously prepared breakfast.

“I’ll just go buy the miso soup ingredients.”

When Shino went out, Ogaki stood by and watched Fusa doing her hair.

“Your hair’s magnificent—I never imagined there was this much.
That one’s hair is like a cat’s tail.”

Ogaki approached closer.

“Won’t you let me play with you a bit?”

“What are you saying? You’re in the way—move over there. And you call yourself a man?”

“Ha, ha—well, I am a man, after all.
Your hair really is lovely.
I should’ve met you sooner instead of that palm-fiber broom of a woman!”

Fusa became uncomfortable and raised her voice sharply.

“You’re unexpectedly disagreeable.”
“You start badmouthing Shino-san before even being here five minutes.”
“I won’t tolerate this.”

When their oddly unsettled breakfast ended, the two went out house-hunting again.
Fusa had just sat down to finally savor the pleasant morning quiet when Shino, who had already left, came back.

“Hmm? Did you forget something?”

“Don’t you have any small change?
Any amount’s fine—just lend it for a day.”

“He doesn’t have any.”

“Yeah, it’s a problem.—I thought he had some, but his pockets are completely empty—”

Fusa handed over sixty sen.

In Mejiro, they had finally found a house.
When Shino returned home, she talked nonstop about it until falling asleep.

“If you think I’m lying, go see for yourself—it’s utterly perfect! Right by the station, flooded with sunlight, brand new.”
“Sandwiched between three houses so security’s no worry—you must come! The air there makes this place seem stifling!”

“Thank you—but I’ll stay.”

“Why?
“I went through all this trouble planning for us three to live together—there’s even a room waiting just for you—”

“Well, it’s better for the two of you to live alone.”

“—How dreary that sounds!”

On the day of Shino's move, Fusa had gone to Suda.
For Shino’s sake—though there had certainly been no lack of moments where she ultimately felt used—when it came to parting, Fusa found it painful.
She didn’t feel like watching the belongings being carried out.

“Well then, please give my regards to Mr. Ogaki. I’ll send a letter once I get to the hot springs.”

“I will. I’ll send you a proper address first thing tomorrow too, so once you’re back home, if you feel like it, please come visit us.”

When she said goodbye, Fusa felt an eerily desolate sense that this might become their final farewell.

She, in her head,

Well then,

gave a slight nod and went outside.

Day after day of clear early summer weather continued. From the corridor’s western window, a dazzling evening vista unfolded at dusk. Fusa felt as spacious as that sky yet at the same time lonely. She had planned to go to the hot springs near her hometown for ten days and then return to Suda. On the third day—the day before Fusa was to leave—a letter finally arrived from Shino. On the back of the light blue square envelope was written "Tsubomi, from Shino." Fusa read what was inside.

“While I was there with you, I truly caused so much trouble.”
“I offer my deepest thanks.”
“Your kindness—like that of my own birth sister—I will never, ever forget.”
“Our previous residence suddenly became unsuitable, but fortunately we found a room for rent in the neighboring house and have settled there temporarily.”
“There are two rooms.”
“It’s still just rented space, but it’s our Sweet Home!”
“Please take good care of yourself—Mr. Ogaki says to send his regards.”

Fusa turned the envelope over front and back and even checked inside, but no address appeared.