Pathway to Japanese Literature

Characters

Nakanishi Ryōzō (Pediatrician) 34 years old

Same household: Yasuko (wife of Ryōzō) 23 years old

Same household: Tsuyako (their infant) 2 years old

Tami (nursemaid) 17 years old

Houseboy

Setting

A quiet Yamanote district within Tokyo.

Time

Modern Day: A Certain Autumn Evening

The curtain rises.

The Nakanishi Ryōzō residence.
Tearoom.

A tatami room of eight mats facing the garden, with an enclosed veranda.
The shoji screens were all left open.

On the upper wall of the front alcove hung a silver-backed decorative paper painted with elegant autumn grasses, and below it sat a mulberry wood tea cabinet.
Slightly further down were neatly arranged a long brazier and a kitchen shelf.

The lower part of the room connected to the rear via two sliding doors, beside which Tsuyako’s folded cotton-padded kimono—its vivid Meirin silk yuzen pattern standing out starkly against the garden’s darkness—lay neatly placed.

Nakanishi Ryōzō sat relaxed in dark everyday clothes,

Yasuko, with her neat chignon, meisen kimono, and habutae obi,

Both of them, showing their profiles to onlookers, face the dining table.

On the upper part of the veranda, behind the fatsia shrubs, a room with closed shoji screens could be seen.

Yasuko (slightly leaning forward to check the hotpot simmering at the center of the table): How is it?
How’s it coming along?
Shall I add a bit more?

Ryōzō: “It’s fine.”
“Thank you. You should have some too. Really, don’t fret so much.”

Yasuko (laughs): “I’m not fretting at all, but I just thought…”

Both ate in silence, enveloped in peaceful stillness.
Suddenly,

Yasuko: “Ah, I’d forgotten!”
(While looking at her husband.) “Earlier, Mr. Tsukumo called.”

Ryōzō: “Huh? What about?”

Yasuko: “Their daughter again—the usual trouble.”
“She hasn’t been well these past few days, so they asked you to come tonight.”
“But since you hadn’t returned yet, I told them I’d relay the message… (with pointed emphasis) Still, that household really does let their daughter fall ill constantly. Last month too, there was some complaint they made, wasn’t there?”

Ryōzō: “Poor thing.”
“They couldn’t possibly be *trying* to make her sick—but weak is weak, I suppose.”

Yasuko: “But when I see how that household operates, I don’t think it’s just congenital weakness.”
“The mother isn’t properly settled at home at all.”
“Whenever I call, it’s always some maid or tutor answering—people who don’t even know how to take a temperature.”

Ryōzō (with a bitter smile): “Well, whatever—it doesn’t matter either way. Tsukumo’s affairs are Tsukumo’s own business. Don’t get so indignant and just serve the rice already.”

(Yasuko brought out a rice bowl.)

Yasuko (with an unconditional smile): “But... the child is pitiable.” (She served rice and handed it over.)
(With a serious expression again) “But I wonder what feelings someone like that must have while watching their own child.”

“You don’t think so?”
“While going out of their way to gather poor children and fuss over them, they feel perfectly at ease leaving their own child in the hands of some foolish hired help—I simply cannot understand it.”

Ryōzō (teasing yet content): “Well, aren’t you something.”
“After all, with such a model wise mother, Tsuyako’s bound to turn out splendidly.”

Yasuko... (smiled)

Ryōzō: “But then again, if you were like Mrs. Yanagida, that’d be unbearable too. Even if not getting involved is wrong, if they end up getting killed together with the child like that, there’s no saving them.”

Yasuko (clearly, looking at her husband): “Oh, really?”

Ryōzō: “Go and meet them once yourself—most people end up properly having their venom drawn.”

Yasuko (with a bitter smile)……

Just then, the houseboy came in with two evening papers and three or four letters.

Houseboy: "These have arrived."

“Yes, thank you very much.”
(She gathered them all and handed them to her husband.)
The houseboy left.

Ryōzō, chopsticks still in hand, opened the top letter first and read it silently.

Yasuko quietly poured hot water from the iron kettle into a bowl while gazing at her husband. “Who’s it from?”

Ryōzō: “Yamada. …Since he’s come out from Korea again, he sent word saying he wants to have dinner together on Saturday evening or such.”

Yasuko: “I see.”
“He does come out quite often, doesn’t he?”
“If one can come and go that freely, Korea cannot be all that bad.”
“We could invite him here.”
(Reaching for the evening paper, her eyes caught on one of the sealed letters.)
(Suddenly wearing an expression of surprise)

“Oh!”
“Wait.”

(Picking up the letter) “Something’s come from Mrs. Yanagida—speak of the devil! What could it be? Masako… that’s her name, isn’t it?”

Ryōzō (glancing up from the letter he was reading): “Hmm… What could this be? If it’s Masako, then yes.”
(He quickly placed the read letter back into its envelope and took the grayish one Yasuko offered.)
(Turning it over to examine both sides) What could have happened?

Yasuko (storing her husband’s and her own chopsticks into the chopstick box while occasionally glancing at the unrolled scroll) “It’s rather short, isn’t it?”

Ryōzō: Hmm.
(His attention was wholly consumed by the letter.
As he read on, a shadowed, grim expression seeped into the space between his brows.)

Yasuko (noticed this and asked worriedly in a hushed voice): “What’s wrong?”

Ryōzō (silent.
His mouth, seized by intense emotion, gradually tensed up.
(After finishing reading, he carelessly tosses the still-unrolled scroll onto the table.) Hmph!
(He heaves a sigh)

Yasuko (involuntarily aghast): Oh!
“What on earth have you done, really?”
(glancing rapidly between the letter and Ryōzō) “What did she write? May I see it?”
(reaches to take the letter)

Ryōzō: Just wait a moment.
“I’ll read it for you.”
(in a tone forcibly suppressing emotion) “That woman’s putting on another act.”
“It’s pointless.”
“What does she think she’s accomplishing by sending something like this?!”

“Getting yourself this worked up won’t solve anything!”
“So what exactly did she write in that letter?”

Ryōzō—deliberately adopting a contemptuous, theatrical tone toward the letter—snapped: “Fine then! I’ll read it out. Listen well.”

(The following is the text of the letter:)

Dear Dr.Nakanishi,
The autumn winds now pierce us morning and evening as seasons deepen.
I trust you continue in health and professional vigor—a source of profound reassurance.
Regarding that infant who never fulfilled her purpose despite my desperate plea for your consultation: though I maintained vigil over her fragile health since our last correspondence, she departed this world on the twenty-first of last month at half past eleven in the morning—rendering void every maternal aspiration.

Yasuko (involuntarily): “Oh!!”

Ryōzō (cutting in): “The real part worth hearing is coming up.”
“Of course, now that matters have reached this point, all that remains are these futile repetitions about what cannot be undone.”

“Of course, now that matters have reached this point, all that remains are these futile repetitions about what cannot be undone.”
“There remains no recourse but to resign myself to this as preordained fate.”

“However, as one who has known a mother’s station, my sole lingering regret lies in never having had the chance—before matters came to this—to receive even once the ministrations of your esteemed hands, you who stand as the preeminent authority in this field and gather such universal trust.”

In closing, I pray for Dr. Nakanishi’s continued good health and earnestly hope that with your magnanimous heart, you will devote yourself to the care of the hundreds of pitiful infants in this world.

Respectfully yours,

Yanagida Masako

Dr. Nakanishi Ryōzō

Beneath Your Esteemed Desk

Ryōzō: “Well?”
(Seeing Yasuko’s eyes brimming with tears, he involuntarily softened his tone) “Of course I deeply sympathize with those who lose a child.”
“If one were in a parent’s position, it would be utterly unbearable—but does that mean she had to go and fling this insinuating poison-pen letter at me just because her own child died?”
“Her ulterior motives irritate me.”
“What does she expect me to do?!”
(his tone growing increasingly fierce)

Yasuko (raising her face with an impassioned expression): "...But—that isn't a lie."
"You!"
(staring fixedly at Ryōzō)

Ryōzō: “It’s not a lie—you mean her motive for writing?”

Yasuko: “Yes.—It does feel somewhat... well, perhaps theatrical, but the truth remains the truth.”
“She truly wrote that letter from genuine emotion—” (lowering her voice solemnly) “What exactly did you do?”

Ryōzō: “What did I do?”
“Ha ha ha” (a nervous laugh) “When even my own wife interrogates me like this, I’ve no ground left to stand on.”
“There’s nothing to it,” he continued, his tone slipping naturally into defensiveness. “Come now—remember that time long ago when I was about to go fishing with Oka or someone? Yanagida called then, didn’t she?”

Yasuko (taking up the letter, gazing at it without really seeing, lost in thought): “Was that how it was? I can’t seem to recall.”

Ryōzō: “At that time, Mrs. Yanagida herself answered the phone and asked me to come over—said the child born last year seemed to be having trouble with its respiratory system.”
“But it was my rare day off—I’d made plans with Oka and the others—so I explained the situation and refused. There was nothing else to be done.”
“She’s held onto that grudge until today.—”

“Clever as she might appear, a woman’s still just a woman!”

Yasuko: “That’s all?!”
(skeptically)

Ryōzō: “Of course it is!”
(clenching his fist) At that time, he had said this:
“I also have a rare day off today and was about to go fishing, so I told her, ‘Since that won’t do, please bring the child to the hospital tomorrow.’”
“Then she retorted in this angry voice—‘I can’t expose her to the wind when it’s freezing outside! I’ll bring her in sometime later…’ or some such nonsense… What’s the deal with these mothers who’ve lost children? They probably want to pick a fight with anyone they lay eyes on! Cry all you want—I don’t care—but spare me your misguided lectures… Ugh, ugh—” (He let out a performative fake yawn while still seated.) “What a damnable profession I’ve gotten myself into!”

Yasuko (looking bitterly at Ryōzō): “You.”
“How can you maintain such composure? Isn’t it pitiable?”
“At least offer condolences over the phone.”
“Someone who cherished her child’s life so dearly… How tragic.”
“What’s the number?”
(attempts to stand)

Ryōzō: “Hey, stop it. Stop it!”
“Nonsense!”

Yasuko (half-risen): “Oh…”
“Why?”
“Shouldn’t that be what you ought to do?”
“You.”

Ryōzō: “I refuse.”
“Cut out this absurd humanitarian posturing.”
“Nonsense.—”

“First off, consider this—” (growing more heated) “Even doctors are human. If one is human, isn’t it only natural to want enjoyments outside their duties sometimes?”

There’s no one in this world as self-centered as patients—or their close relatives. Even if it rains spears or pours, they take it for granted from the start that if we here simply declare it an illness, we’ll come rushing over and devote ourselves entirely. The reason Mrs. Yanagida got so irritated was simply that her pride had been wounded. “If she truly wanted to receive the benefit of my ‘healing hands’ so badly, she could have simply come to fetch me again the next day! To twist the blame onto me and try to burden my conscience—all without even exhausting her own efforts first—is the height of arrogance.” If she’d simply informed me of the death, I could’ve mustered some genuine human sympathy. But getting hit with this ‘gotcha’ accusation—I can’t go groveling after that. That’s what you call idiotic honesty.

Yasuko: “Mrs. Yanagida’s approach is rather emotional too, isn’t it? But… don’t you still feel unsettled?”
“This isn’t resolving anything at all. Let’s call her.”

Ryōzō—wondering if his conscience had been pricked even slightly—as his wife prepared to shed solemn tears “for the sake of hundreds of children,” she would shed them.

Yasuko (with a faint, lonely smile that went unnoticed): “You’re quite stubborn… I won’t insist on forcing you to make the call.”

Ryōzō silently used a toothpick while beginning to read the evening paper.
No matter how many harsh words he spat out, his gloomy mood showed no sign of lifting—such was his demeanor.

Yasuko: “The meal we went to such trouble over was ruined. What a shame.”
(An instinctive effort to lift Ryōzō’s spirits—)
While occasionally glancing his way, she began clearing the dining table.

In the distance, a child’s cry sounded.
As it gradually drew nearer, Yasuko’s attention became fixed in that direction.

Yasuko (holding a salt dish between her thumb and middle finger, ears pricked): “Tsuyako-chan… What could be wrong now…?” (She turns to look at the clock on the tea cabinet.)

The crying grew gradually nearer, in the room behind the fatsia plantings,

“There, there, good girl, Miss Tsuyako—please stop your crying now.”

The nursemaid could be heard soothing her in a singsong tone.

The child would not stop crying.
This was a problem—she brought her over whenever she cried.
Yasuko placed dishes onto a tray and transferred fire from the portable brazier to the long charcoal brazier as if refusing to be outdone by the nursemaid.

Yasuko finally called out to the nursemaid in a voice unable to bear her concern any longer.

Yasuko: “Tami, bring her over here.”

As if she had been waiting impatiently, a “Yes” replied at once.
From the upper veranda, Tami, wearing a white apron, a pattern-dyed kimono, and an obi with red accents, came carrying Tsuyako.

Tsuyako was a fair-skinned, plump, adorable child wearing a charming yuzen-patterned sleeveless robe and an apron embroidered with large dog-shaped figures; with her right hand, she kept swiping at her ear while sobbing and sniffling.
Seeing her mother’s face through tears, she extended her small hand.

Yasuko: “There, there, Tsuyako-chan. What’s wrong, hm?”
She looked unbearably fond as she took Tsuyako from Tami’s hands and rubbed cheeks with her.
Pulling her face back: “Peek-a-boo!”
(She laughed.)

“Come on, do a nice face for me. What does a nice face look like?”
“There, peek-a-boo!”
“Come on, Papa! Yes, yes, yes!”

She stood Tsuyako on her lap and tried to make her laugh.
Tami knelt beside them, clapping her hands and forcing a smile.
The child would seem about to laugh, then make a pained face and burst into tears again.

“Oh my, what’s wrong?” Yasuko turned to the nursemaid. “Has she been like this for quite some time?”

Tami: “No, not particularly.”
“She just suddenly started crying…”

Yasuko: “What could really be wrong?”

They tried various things.
Tsuyako’s mood did not improve.

“Hey, you!”
“Excuse me, but could you take a look?” (calling to his back)

Ryōzō (somewhat annoyed): “It’s the diaper.”

Yasuko: “That can’t be right… Didn’t they change it?”

Tami: “I have just changed it completely a moment ago.”

“That settles it—it isn’t the diaper.”
“Tsuyako-chan, tell Papa, ‘You mustn’t dismiss everything as diaper trouble!’”

Pa-pa-pa-pa—she took Tsuyako’s small finger between her lips to make the sound while examining every part of the child’s round body. When she suddenly looked at the right ear, Yasuko’s expression changed. Flustered, she adjusted her hold to cradle Tsuyako sideways and examined the spot with a strained expression. A horrified look crossed her face. She turned pale. “Oh, you! Something’s wrong with Tsuyako’s ear!” Trembling, she kept bending over the ear again and again.

Ryōzō: “Her ear?”
“What’s wrong?”
He suddenly stood up.

“Yasuko: Blood—this… such clots are coming from her ear!”

Tami (changing color): "Is it true, ma'am?"
(Tries to peer between them.)

Yasuko: “Look!”
“Look at this!”
“It’s like this… What should we do?”
(Restlessly darting her eyes between Ryōzō and Tsuyako’s faces.)

Ryōzō (unconsciously tensed up, gently pressed around her ear; Tsuyako burst into tears as if ignited).

Yasuko (now deathly pale, her voice unintentionally harsh): “Tami—you didn’t do anything to her, did you?”

Tami (flustered): “Oh, Madam!”

Ryōzō: “Never mind that. Hurry up and bring the reflector from the desk in the study.”
“The silver flat one—you know, the one with the black handle—”

Tami: Yes. (Stood up. From behind.)

Yasuko: The thermometer too—it’s in the red case.

“Could it be from inside?” (peering into the light) “There’s no external injury.”

Ryōzō (growing uneasy himself, craning his neck to look at the same spot as Yasuko): “What’s going on here? This isn’t right—suddenly bleeding like this. Is it still coming out fresh?”

Yasuko: “It doesn’t seem to be.”

Ryōzō (pulling his head away from Tsuyako): “I suppose there was nothing we could have done until now.”

Yasuko (indignantly): “Do you really think this was mere carelessness?”
“Until just now, everything was normal…” (her voice now utterly changed, choked with anguished tears).
“(emphasizing each word) You… are you all right?”

Ryōzō: “What?”

Yasuko: “What do you mean ‘what’?” She glared back at him. “Isn’t it obvious? If... if...” Her voice broke as she suddenly clutched Tsuyako tightly. “Poor Tsuyako-chan—please get better soon! This is what Mommy wishes for more than anything.” Her body shook with suppressed sobs. “I can’t bear this.” She pressed her forehead against the child’s. “Does it hurt? Hmm? Does it hurt?”

Ryōzō (growing serious): “She’s crying because it hurts.”

“Anyway, you mustn’t get so worked up—you’re too crucial here. Steady now! Stay steady!”

There, there, Tsuyako, Tsuyako.
(Soothing her while maintaining professional composure, he counted her pulse.) Hmm.

Tami (nearly running as she brought two items): "Here."

Ryōzō illuminated the inside of her ear with the reflector and examined it. The surrounding silence hung thick with held breaths. After wordlessly shifting his position and adjusting Tsuyako’s head, he muttered, “Can’t see anything at all.” The canal must have been clogged with wax.

Yasuko pressed him urgently: “This is hopeless! If you can’t handle it, call Dr. Yokota immediately. I’ll take her temperature now—understood?”

“Fine,” Ryōzō replied, turning to leave.

Yasuko (from behind): “Is it all right if we don’t cool her head?”

Ryōzō (stepping into the hallway): “Well, I’ll try asking anyway.”
(Exits.)

Yasuko stared at Tsuyako's face in utter distress as the child sobbed uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her cheeks of their own accord. Forcing her voice to stay clear without turning toward the maid, she said, "Tami, bring the bottle here, please."

Tami: “Yes.”
“Is the empty bottle acceptable?”

Yasuko: “Ah. Hurry.”

Tami hurriedly retrieved the rubber nipple from the glass container in the tea cabinet.

Yasuko, keeping one hand pressed against Tsuyako with it, listened intently—the sound of a bell.
Voices became clearly audible.

Ryōzō’s voice: “Ah, Banchō 3956... Ah, hello? Dr. Yokota?”
“Is the doctor at home?”
“Yes, this is Nakanishi. Could you come to the phone for a moment?... Yes—please go ahead.”

Yasuko (whispered with a hint of relief): “It seems he’s coming.”

Tami: “Indeed, ma’am.”

(Both listened intently.)

Ryōzō’s voice: “Oh, Dr. Yokota? I’ve gone and disturbed your rest at a most inopportune time.—Oh, no—not at all.”
“…Of course you would.”
“Actually, this is rather sudden—our baby’s been crying strangely since earlier, and now there’s some bleeding from her ear.”
“What? — Oh, I checked, but it’s no use. There’s no abnormality in her pulse, so I don’t think it’s anything serious. But honestly, the mother’s more frantic than the patient herself—I feel sorry for her. Could you come over once?”
“If you can arrange it, I’ll send the car immediately.”

Yasuko held Tsuyako firmly while focusing even more intently.

Ryōzō’s voice: “Hmm, hmm… I see—that’s troublesome.”

Yasuko (involuntarily startled, stood up still holding Tsuyako).

Ryōzō’s voice: “No—that’s absolutely not the case.”
“Nothing to be done about it.”
“We can’t both keep up this charade forever—ha ha ha!” (forcing a cheerful laugh) — “Then do as you please—I’ll try asking Miya or someone else. Hmm, thank you—goodbye—apologies for troubling you during your busy hour… goodbye.”

The sound of the bell rang.

Yasuko turned her face toward where Ryōzō had yet to appear and called out in an intensely agitated, anxious voice: “What happened? No good?”

Ryōzō emerged while speaking: “He said it’s no good. There’s a Noh recital gathering, and since he’s the organizer, he absolutely can’t get away tonight.” Deliberately not looking at Yasuko, he peered at Tsuyako. “How is it?”

Yasuko: “Oh!”
“A Noh recital?”
“How irresponsible!” (Yasuko, losing self-control from disappointment and anxiety) “It’s not as if his attendance would take all night!”
“That man’s Noh performance means nothing compared to Tsuyako’s life—hers actually matters!”
(glaring sharply at Ryōzō) “Hmm—so you’ll just withdraw like this? You’re truly beyond belief.”

Ryōzō: “Hey, hey—” (scolding) “Don’t play the ‘Mrs.’ card with me.”
“Even if you spout nonsense, there’s no point.”
(in a voice layered with meaning) That man wouldn’t want his occasional enjoyment to be dismissed either.
(As if forcibly dispelling the emotions welling up inside, he stroked his beard and began pacing around the room.)

Yasuko (suddenly realized something.
Staring sharply at Ryōzō.) Was this an excuse?

Yasuko’s face showed unmistakable displeasure and revulsion. Biting her lip, she silently took out the thermometer and held it up to the light. Her tone verged on reprimand.

Yasuko: “You!”
“Thirty-eight point one.”
(Amid tense silence, Yasuko—glaring fixedly at the restless Ryōzō as though her gaze could pierce him—snarled like an enraged lioness) “You!”
(Her lips trembled.)
(Suppressing it with force) “I cannot let your stubbornness kill our child.”

Ryōzō looked at Yasuko as if struck.
He looked at Tsuyako.
He paced around the room even more restlessly, stopped, and tried to say something.
He stopped, abruptly exited the room, and disappeared down the hallway.

Soon came the sound of the bell.

Ryōzō’s voice (deep and solemn): “Koishikawa 952.”

Yasuko involuntarily heaved a deep sigh, looked at Tsuyako, and tears trickled down.
She remained standing—Tami remained kneeling in a half-crouch—both fixed their eyes and listened intently toward the telephone.—

Very quietly, curtain.

[11 characters up from baseline]