Pathway to Japanese Literature

Characters

Shinnosuke Okuhira - Statistician (30 years old)

Misako: Shinnosuke's wife (18 years old)

Eichi Hashizume - Misako's cousin (24 years old)

Saburo Tani - Friend of Eichi and Misako (same)

Asako Yoshizawa (does not appear) - Misako's friend (19 years old)

Maid Kiyo

Location

Tokyo.
Time
Modern times.

One May.

Act I: Okuhira's Parlor

A Western-style room with white upper walls and ceiling, its lower portion covered in dark green wallpaper.

The front wall featured a shallow, wide nook.
Three large windows held extremely thin cinnamon-colored curtains drawn aside with vivid black decorative cords, while a simply shaped mahogany round table, upholstered chairs, and a flower vase filled abundantly with roses were arranged in the space.

Along the upper wall stood a large gold-framed picture.
A bookshelf.
A sofa.
Heavy dark-colored portieres separated it from the adjacent room.

The downstage area featured transparent glass folding doors spanning about one and a half ken. The front and rear wall spaces, each three shaku wide, displayed a statue and a potted shrub near the nook. In the downstage area stood a tall Victor phonograph, a two-seater armchair, and other furnishings. Sunlight streaming through the glass folding doors poured brightly across the floor, illuminating the furniture and making the golden door handles and fresh greenery in planters sparkle refreshingly.

The curtain rises.

The stage is empty.

When the pleasure of light and color had gradually allowed those viewing it to savor a vague sense of health and vitality, Misako emerged from the upper portiere.
(Wisteria-colored flannel kimono; overall, simple attire.)

Misako (entering the room while turning back) “Won’t you come take a look over here?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Today I did all the cleaning myself, you know.”

Shinnosuke entered silently in dark serge attire. He looked around. "Hmm. It was lovely," he remarked.

Misako moved toward the nook. "This room feels even more pleasant because the sunlight streams in so well," she said. "Please take a look. These roses! Aren’t they lovely? I didn’t think they would bloom."

Shinnosuke responded disinterestedly: "They’ve bloomed well."

"Do try smelling them," Misako urged. "What’s the harm? Here!" Holding the flower vase, she buried her face in it to inhale the scent before presenting it near her husband’s nose.

Shinnosuke: “Hmm.”
“They look nice.”
“Branches that have flowers—it’s better to prune them for next year’s growth, you know.”

Misako: “I suppose.”
“But since I love them, they’ll just end up as cuttings for the room’s arrangements anyway.”
(Placing the flower vase on the nook’s table and sitting in the chair there) “Won’t you sit down as well?”

Shinnosuke (ambling over and taking a seat opposite): “About what time did they say they’d arrive?”

Misako: “I’m not certain.”
“They only mentioned they’d come sometime after noon—but they’ll probably arrive soon, don’t you think? It being Sunday and all...” (voice softening) “You are free today, aren’t you?”

Shinnosuke: “Well…”

Misako: “Can’t you?”

Shinnosuke: “I have obligations to fulfill.”

Misako (suppressing disappointment): “But there’s still time—what’s the harm? Just for a moment—won’t you have tea with me?”

Shinnosuke: “With pressing matters at hand—must I really prioritize hollow pleasantries?”

“That’s true.”
“But…they’re coming after such a long time, you know…”

“If you take your time entertaining them, wouldn’t that be fine?”

“But…” (her face darkening deeply, hesitantly) “Do you… dislike them coming?”

Shinnosuke: “Why? Did I ever say such a thing?”

Misako: “You never say such things. But—if it would please you, I think we could all enjoy ourselves pleasantly for a little while. You say it’s fine if I entertain them alone—but that’s not how it is.”

Shinnosuke: “I have my own responsibilities with work, so it can’t be helped. Right? Right? I’m not someone who can afford to idle around like you or Mr. Hashizume and the others.”

Misako said forlornly, “It feels like some sort of charade.”
“I want you to enjoy yourself with me just once.”
“Always—always work!”

Shinnosuke replied, “You shouldn’t say such childish things.”

Tears welled in Misako’s eyes. “It’s not childish.”
“How could anyone stay composed and pretend delight when the person they love won’t share joy with them?”
She pressed on urgently, “Why don’t we do this from now on?”
“If you dislike having visitors, tell me plainly.”
“Then I’ll turn them away.”
“You’ve no idea…how much lighter that would make me feel…”

“There’s no reason for me to refuse people wanting to visit you just because I might dislike them—I’m not that sort of egoist.”

“Don’t you see that’s where you’re mistaken? Those who come are visiting both of us.” Her tears threatened to spill over. “Yet I’m always left alone entertaining them, with everyone asking ‘What’s become of Mr. Okuhira?’… And you never show the slightest pleasure in it—I truly don’t know how to bear it anymore.”

Shinnosuke: “It’s not that I don’t understand.”
“You should simply forget about me and enjoy yourself.”
“That way—for my part—I couldn’t say how much more carefree it would be.”

Misako (looking doubtfully at her husband) “Really?”
“Really?”

Shinnosuke (emphatically) “It really is!”
“If I have free time and feel inclined, I can always come out and join you, can’t I?”

Misako: “If that’s how it is, then that would truly be wonderful.”
(Cheerfully) “Then, will you come out later?”

Shinnosuke: “When?”
“Today?”

Misako (as if stating the obvious): “Of course.”

Shinnosuke: “I don’t know.”
“Well, just handle the reception yourself.”

Misako: "Then it's the same as before... Oh really..." (rising from her chair, sighing as she began walking)

Shinnosuke (noticing): "What's wrong?"

Misako (gazing intently, sorrowfully at her husband): "If even in our own home things are like this, I thought it's no wonder other wives stop inviting even their friends."

Shinnosuke: "You shouldn't interpret everything with such malice. If you don't comprehend my true intent, we'll only keep causing pointless conflicts."

Misako (earnestly): "I truly want you to understand the very depths of my heart. Not through logic—I want you to feel in your heart the things I feel."

Shinnosuke: "—It's mutual... Demands are limitless, after all. When people are given five things, they inevitably try to obtain seven."
—

“Misako—”

“In any case, I’ll take my leave now—please give my regards to everyone. Of course, if they have business, they can come anytime.”

He tried to leave through the curtain from which he had come.
Misako instinctively chased after him and tried to say something.
But she stopped, lost her vigor, and with an air of futility sank limply onto the nearby sofa.

Misako (quietly, to herself): Oh… Why must it always be like this…?

She rested her elbow on the edge of the sofa, staring fixedly ahead as she sank into thought. Before long, seemingly unable to bear her loneliness, she suddenly stood up and pressed the bell by the bookshelf.

Kiyo entered.

Kiyo: “Were you calling for me?”
Misako: “Oh yes—would you go to my room and bring the embroidery I’ve been working on?”

Kiyo: “Yes, madam.”
(Exits.)

Misako moved restlessly toward the nook, sat down, and fiddled with the flowers in the vase.
Rather, her heart sank deeper inward—only her fingertips making faint, unconscious movements as if by reflex.

Kiyo returned with an adorable crimson satin-covered small basket.

Kiyo: “Will this suffice?”

Misako: “Thank you—were there scissors?” (briefly examining the basket’s contents) “Ah, this will do.”
“And if any guests arrive, please show them in here immediately.”
“I’ll be here—”

Kiyo: “Yes, madam—”
“Shall I use the usual plate for the sweets from earlier?”

Misako: “Ah, that’s fine—the one with flowers.”

Kiyo gave a slight nod and began to leave.

Misako: "Oh, Kiyo—what is Master doing right now?"

Kiyo (stopping): “Well... Earlier, he was in the study...”

Misako: “Then that’s all right.”
“Thank you.”

Kiyo left.

Misako took out a white center piece from the small basket on the table and began stitching intermittently.
Yet her heart remained unsettled; sometimes she gazed fixedly at the wedding ring on her slender finger, other times smoothed her hair as if to soothe herself.
The feeling swelled and swelled within her, yet her demeanor offered no outlet for expression.
Before long, from behind the curtain,

Kiyo’s voice: “Madam?”

Misako (lowering the hand that had been holding her head): “What?”
Kiyo (appearing in the room): “Mr. Hashizume has arrived.”
Misako: “Is he alone?”

Kiyo: “No, well…”

Before she could finish, footsteps sounded.
A young man’s voice.

Tani: “I’m here too.”

Saburo Tani and Eichi Hashizume appeared together cheerfully.

Tani: “Hey!”
“Good day.”

Misako (brightening involuntarily): “My, you’ve come after all.”
“Good day.”

Eichi: “Good day.”

Misako: “Thank you for calling earlier.”

Eichi: “You’re welcome.”

Tani: “Well, actually...”
“That phone call—I was the one who pestered him to make it.”
“When I do make the effort to visit occasionally, I can’t bear being met with an empty house.”

Tani and Eichi each found suitable spots and took their seats.

Misako (putting away her embroidery): “Was that so?”
“Don’t worry. The two of us being away from home together happens only a handful of times a year.”

“But regardless, it’s splendid weather—it’s quite hot outside. Shall I open that there?”

“Ah, please do.”
“It really has been lingering, hasn’t it…”

Eichi opened one side of the folding door.

Misako turned her face toward it. “Ah, how nice,” she said. “It’s just like summer.”

Eichi returned to his seat.

Misako (smiling at both): “How have you been lately? Still the same as ever?”

“There’s nothing particularly earth-shattering to report,” Tani said. “Teachers give lectures shriveled by financial hardship, students keep shifting restlessly…” His eyes wandered about the room with calculated nonchalance.

“And you’re the number one wanderer among them,” Eichi laughed. “Still—it’s been ages since we met. That concert was around New Year’s, wasn’t it?”

“Has it already come to that?”
“That was during Miss Pebloska’s time, wasn’t it—”

“Roughly six months already.”
“You must have far more fascinating stories to tell, don’t you?”

“Do I seem so?”

“I’m at a loss when interrogated like this… (wry smile) You’re still the same as ever.”

Kiyo brought in tea and sweets.
While everyone remained silent, she finished distributing them and quietly exited.
Breaking the silence,

Tani (to Misako): “Where is Mr. Okuhira? Is he still the same?”

Misako: “Yes, thank you. He’s still the same as ever—only putting up a front.”

Tani: Haha, all front!
“Is that it?”
“(casually) Are there any other guests?”

Misako: None.
“There should have been, but—”

Eichi (suddenly bursting into loud laughter): “Ha ha ha ha ha! Saburo, you’ve finally taken off your helmet!”

Tani: ――(pretending not to notice)

Misako: “Oh dear—so abruptly? What’s come over you?”

Eichi: “What do you mean?”
(Glancing at Tani) “Is that acceptable?”
“Even if I say—”

Tani deliberately blew a smoke ring.

Eichi: “Yesterday, when I visited a friend’s place, Miss Yoshizawa became the topic of conversation. While everyone was making a fuss about it, the man’s younger sister said, ‘If it’s her, she’s your close friend.’ She must have come to Mr. Okuhira’s place around today or something like that, so…”

Misako: “Goodness! So that’s why you came?”
(turning toward Tani and deliberately clowning) “Thank you ever so much.”

Tani (without laughing): “Oh, not at all!”

Everyone burst into laughter.

“So what became of it? Isn’t she coming?!”

“Yes, she canceled—said she wants to talk quietly with just me alone someday.”
(Seriously) “She’s been suffering terribly lately with marriage troubles and such.”
“Being such a beauty has ironically brought her all sorts of unpleasant things instead.”

“So in married life, does that mean she wants to seek guidance from you, who are at least a six-month senior?”

Misako (paying no heed to Tani’s particular tone): “It seems she’d rather talk things over with me than keep silent and brood alone.”
“It’s only natural—her father may have plenty of money, and her mother too, but they’re rather peculiar people...”

Eichi: “With parents like that and the daughter being a renowned beauty, it’s a tragedy.”

“So it was decided our visit would keep things from getting too serious.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” said Misako.
“But,” (pause) “even if I do take her consultation, I don’t think I’m in any position to give her a truly reliable decision.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Eichi.

“That’s an uncharacteristic admission of weakness,” remarked Tani.

Misako looked at them both. “It’s true.
Before marriage, one could think purely with their head—neatly categorize things as good or bad.
But when you actually face reality...” She trailed off. “It becomes difficult.
Abstract theories simply don’t hold.
Take someone’s character or education—of course those matter as standards.
But between friends and a husband...” She pressed her palms together. “Entirely different aspects emerge.
Don’t you agree?”

Eichi: “Well—”

Tani: “If we’re analyzing things to that extent, I suppose we’re still minors then.”

Misako (musing): “In married life, don’t you think what people normally call a righteous person or good person reveals another layer beneath—a core?”
“I can’t express it well.”
“But this is what I mean.”
“Suppose someone holds a belief that nobody could call incorrect, no matter who hears it.”
“Consider this.”
“Among friends, I think relationships can stay harmonious to some degree through that belief alone.”
“But in married life—how closely does that belief match the genuine feelings that emerge when touching real matters?”
“That becomes the immediate problem.”
“So even if the belief isn’t wrong as an ideology or theory—if you cling to it in your heart yet refuse to face it honestly, trying to force both yourself and your partner into pure logic—it becomes utterly unbearable.”

Tani (seriously): “Your way of phrasing things remains abstract, but you’re suggesting the fundamental question lies in human purity versus impurity?”

Misako: “Yes, I suppose that’s where it leads.”

Tani: “This must be why they’ve always said it’s better to have a husband with genuine intent—even one who strikes you—than an insincere man.”

Misako: “At any rate—if you dislike something, say you dislike it; if you love it, say you love it. How marvelous it would be to find someone with a core utterly free of clouds... To feel secure simply speaking those words without agonizing over their hidden depths...”

Tani (scrutinizing Misako): “You’re really growing up, aren’t you.”

Misako (smiling wryly): “So—Asako-san, Yoshizawa-san.”
“Even regarding her situation, I can’t speak with any real authority.”
“It’s not about academic records or competence.”
“We must discern the very core within cores—each person’s intuition, strength of heart, and fate. Don’t you agree?”

Tani: “Yet however sharp one’s innate intuition may be—in Japan’s current state—there’s often no space left to even flex those instincts.”
“Any circle worth pouring one’s heart into—worth seeping down to its depths—is walled off by brick.”
“I may exaggerate—but from where I stand—even you can only champion freedom’s necessity after its most vital season has passed.”
“The sole virtue your honorable parents had over others’ was teaching you roughly what shape would spring from the jack-in-the-box before lifting its lid.”

“Is it that they allowed me to associate with Okuhira?”
“If I compare [my situation to others], I suppose I must feel grateful.”
“But—” (with a bitter smile) “Okuhira was unmarried then too, coming to visit my house—he couldn’t very well spend all his time writing numbers, could he?”

Tani: “Ha ha ha ha.”
“But, you see—” (hesitating)

Misako (innocently): “What?”

Tani: “Well—”

Misako—(her agitation gradually subsiding)—suddenly noticed she’d been talking only with herself and Tani since earlier. “My, what a terrible host I am,” she said with self-reproach. “Monopolizing the conversation like this.”

She turned to Eichi, who had been sitting alone by the glass-paned door flipping through records. “Find anything? Have you discovered something to your taste?”

“They’ve multiplied quite a bit,” Eichi remarked without looking up.

“Because Chaliapin’s records arrived?” she asked, rising from her seat.

Eichi stood to let her take his chair, his expression clouded. From the nook where he stood facing the garden with his back to them, Tani remained motionless. Eichi glanced his way before murmuring in a low voice—

“You mustn’t say reckless things to him.”

Misako (stooped examining records, stopped her hands, looked up quizzically): “Why?”

Eichi (still in a low voice): “He’s dangerous.”
“Because he’s a Don Juan…”

Misako (laughs): I'm fine. (composing herself) No matter who might hear, I wouldn't say anything improper.

Eichi: Even if you don't intend to—

Misako: It's fine.
(offended) So you've been letting me associate with such a person as a friend for over two years now?

Eichi (silent).
(Snatching the record Misako tried to take) “Shall I play it?”

Misako: “How about it?”

Eichi: “That should be fine.”

Eichi turned the handle, attached the needle, placed the record, and closed the lid.

Misako leaned back slowly from the upper side of the chair, and Eichi rested his hip lightly on the opposite arm as he listened.
Tani, holding a cigarette, paced intermittently, came to a halt, and stared fixedly at Misako’s profile as she focused intently.
For a while, the piano and violin prelude.

Tani: “What is it?”

Misako (without looking his way, in a low voice): “Addio.”

The quiet, bright room filled with the emotional resonance of an Italian song.

Outside, clouds seemed to have gathered, and a faint shadow passed over the gleaming surface of the folding doors.
The song ended; silence.

Eventually, Misako, who had been listening, raised her head with a moved sigh.

“Isn’t it lovely?”
“In any case, Italian has such a pleasing resonance.”

Misako: It's truly lovely.
(recites a verse)

Caden stanche lefoglie al suol, Bianche strisce serpon sull'onda, ……

If only I could sing—how wonderful that would be!

“You should practice.”

“No, my voice isn’t good enough.
But... don’t you think there are times when everyone feels so much—feels so intensely—that they can’t help but sing?”

At such moments—if I could just pour out all these feelings through song—how happy I would be.
Someone like me... I can’t express my emotions at all—(she tried to stop speaking yet continued involuntarily)—before, if I just thought of something slightly sad and shed a single tear, my mood would change completely. But lately—(her tone grew soliloquizing)—this heaviness in my chest keeps growing and growing.
I want to sing.
I truly believe singing would help.
If I could sing... dissolve all this sadness and loneliness and everything else... let it all melt away into the sky...”

Tani: “Misako.
Even if you can’t sing, shall I teach you a way to make your loneliness and sadness vanish?”

(Eichi sharply turned to look back at Tani.)
Tani ignored it.)

Misako (still absorbed in her thoughts, vaguely): “What...?”

Tani: “You should keep Mr. Okuhira closer to you.
In terms of sentiment, you know.”

Eichi (jealously): “Hey, don’t meddle in pointless matters. Even Misako—”

Tani: “Are you saying Misako is a full-fledged lady now? I’d never say anything disrespectful. I’m a human being too, you know.” (Raising his voice) “You know, Misako-san, you direct all your joys and sorrows solely at Mr. Okuhira, don’t you?”

Misako (simply): “That’s right.”

Tani: “That’s why Mr. Okuhira can casually brush you aside and just keep scribbling about blues and reds and 1.2.3.”

Misako: “But—I—it’s not about anyone else—precisely because it’s Okuhira, I’d be truly happy if he’d share joys with me... and if not, I’d feel so lonely.”
“Other people—no matter how much they leave me neglected, I don’t care.”

Tani: “How remarkably direct you are.”
(Laughs) “But mind you—this isn’t some greenhorn’s opinion—proper scholars concur: emotions between sexes can never be tidily resolved with simple labels.”
“So consider this—you may be clear as crystal, but how deeply does that truly reverberate in Mr. Okuhira’s heart? That’s the real question, isn’t it?”

“I don’t understand that,” Misako said.
Was he feeling secure—having concluded there was no other path anyway—or was he simply leaving her be…?

Eichi suddenly cut in: “I don’t think such matters should be debated. Time itself will prove it. Moreover—if I may be blunt—someone like Misako-san hasn’t even been married half a year yet. Meddling from the sidelines…”

Tani: “—Meddling lacks gentleness, doesn’t it?— Do you think Misako could be controlled by a mere word from me?”

Eichi ambiguously replied: “That likely isn’t the case. However—”

“Moreover, no matter how much you try to fashion a married couple into some fairy-tale tortoise and crane—in the end, isn’t it just the life of living human beings, a man and a woman?”

Eichi: “That goes without saying!”

Tani: “Then there’s nothing inherently wrong with discussing male-female dynamics as general theory.”

Eichi (impatiently): “Just stick to general theories then. Though I…”

Under Tani’s gleaming, composed gaze, Eichi grew visibly agitated.

Tani: “Let me conclude. Now then—” he turned to Misako, “—humans are fundamentally reactive creatures. When something seems effortlessly obtainable and settled as yours, interest inevitably wanes into indifference. But present them with a challenge requiring extraordinary patience or elaborate methods just to graze it—even if the thing itself holds little value—and people grow obsessed. That’s why elections keep rousing excitement year after year. This same psychology governs emotions between the sexes.”

“Is being suggestive a good thing?”

Tani: “Of course not!”
(With a wry smile) “It’s not merely that alone, I suppose.”
“However, I believe one certain reason marital feelings grow heavy is that they’ve become utterly each other’s possessions—trapped in immobility.”
“From one perspective, in being irrevocably bound as this man and this woman until death—or rather, in current society’s compulsion to bind—lies the primary source of suffering.”
“Therefore, to sustain both parties’ interest and vitality, they must cultivate emotional dynamism—a certain anxiety, tension, and excitement act as tonic.”

Misako (earnestly, pensively): “Is that so…?”
“Isn’t that heart-pounding excitement something from the lovers’ era?”
“Perhaps—” (laughs) “—the pre-lover phase.”
“Even lovers—if they could truly understand and believe in each other’s love—wouldn’t have so much to fret over, would they?”
“Of course, if you don’t even know how much the other person loves you—let alone whether they like or dislike you—you’d feel anxious and tense.”

“Once people marry—both men and women—they all become such optimists sinking into mediocrity. That’s why life turns into a burden.”
“Most women are only interesting to meet until they get married, isn’t that right?”
“Once they become wives, they get completely deflated as so-and-so’s annexes.”

Misako: “But for life to go well, it’s not just about the other person’s techniques or being an ‘interesting person,’ you know.”
“There’s no shortage of so-called interesting people.”
“Even someone completely uninteresting would be fine—what matters is that the ebb and flow of feelings match perfectly on both sides, I think.”

Tani: “The ebb and flow of feelings themselves—isn’t that already emotional elasticity? To generate vivid fluidity, a modicum of risk—apprehension—is necessary, they say.”

“You—so that’s how it is.”
“Are you saying that if one grows tired of this person, then another person—a different one—would offer more variety?”

“Even if one doesn’t actually go through with it, the very possibility creates tension.”

“Are you saying I should... stir up a little flirtation?”
“Oh, please.”
“I hate that kind of thing.”
“If he leaves, there’s nothing left but a true farewell; if he stays, I’ll do anything and everything.—”

“So—you mean the latter option, then?”

Misako (with an almost painfully anguished expression): “There’s no one else I care about more than him, I tell you.”

Tani: “To make Mr. Okuhira feel that importance, you must startle him a bit more. In your heart, there are now two loves. By making him confront which one you’ll choose, you can make him reflect a bit more and suffer. To find out whether true love will genuinely shine forth or a dull pebble will come tumbling out.”

“I don’t have two loves!”
“There’s only one.” Her voice hardened with resolve. “It’s only Okuhira I care for.”
“I just want him to care for me.”

Tani: “Therefore, to have such love reciprocated—”

Eichi, who had been pacing around while listening to their conversation, nearly changed complexion,

Eichi: “Tani!”
“Stop it!”
“You’re just tormenting Ms. Misako!”

Tani (with faint agitation): “I’m not tormenting her.”
“It’s ultimately to refine the emotions one can sustain into something purer.”

Eichi: “Listening to this, anyone would think it’s nothing but seduction!”

Tani: “—Hashizume.”
“Your attitude—if I may be blunt—isn’t noble.”
“Blaming others does nothing to demonstrate one’s own superiority.”
(Watching Eichi) “Why not stake everything on a single man’s heart?”
(To himself) I understand your friendship toward Misako-san quite well.

Eichi glanced at Misako and hurriedly tried to say something.
Misako, not listening to their conversation, rested her chin in her palm and thought.
At that moment, she abruptly stood up and shook her head as if trying to change her thoughts.

Misako: “Well then… Let’s stop this argument.—I’ll have some black tea prepared.”
(Exits)

Silence. Amid an uneasy atmosphere, Tani and Eichi avoided each other’s gaze, motionless. The curtain fell.

Act II: The Garden

A dense thicket of evergreen trees.
Winding through the gaps, a small path led deeper into the garden; upstage, beneath cypress leaves pruned like a folding screen, lay a single white stone bench.

The slanting afternoon sun shone gently bright, making the treetops of the green trees and the edges of the stone bench glitter.

The curtain rose.

Misako and Tani leisurely emerged side by side from upstage.

Misako: “Even those roses only bloom so beautifully because the old gardener tends to them with such care.
Neither I nor Okuhira ever tend to them at all.”

Tani: “It’s always so pleasant here.”
(Glanced around and sat on the stone bench.)

Misako (remaining standing apart): “What’s happened to Cousin Eichi? He said he’d come right away—”

Tani: “He must have business with Mr. Okuhira.”
(in an ironic tone)

Misako: “With Okuhira?”
“Is that so?”
“I had no idea at all.”
“If that’s the case, you should have just said so—”
“You’re so strange!”

Tani: “Yes—leave it be without letting it fester.”
“That man is utterly serious when it comes to you.”

Misako—(looked at Tani’s face, unable to grasp the meaning)

Tani: “You became upset because you thought I was spouting presumptuous nonsense at you. However… I’m not as much of a ‘delinquent’ as that man thinks I am.”
(Changing his tone) “Even so—truthfully, I never imagined I’d be able to have a conversation like today’s with you.”

Misako (not understanding Tani’s feelings): “Why?—It’s not like we said anything that people wouldn’t say.”

Tani: —A year ago, you were too happy, too willful—it was almost blinding to someone like me. On the contrary, now that thin clouds have risen, you seem far more human—your passion and purity appear all the more beautiful. (Looks at Misako’s face)

Misako (feeling vaguely uneasy): What are you saying? The more beautiful it is, the better, isn’t it?—Come on, let’s go to the back. You were the one who kept going on about roses... (urging Tani)

Tani: “I’ll go shortly. But you know—truthfully, I had always believed a day like today would come eventually. You, who sway bouquets with cheeks brushed by gentle breezes—I knew you’d one day come to taste profound doubts and sufferings about your own love... about human love itself. Then—I thought—for the first time, you might understand these feelings I hold toward you.”

Misako (gazing intently at Tani with suspicion): “I can’t let my pain and loneliness be exploited by anyone at all.”

“I’m entirely different,” said Tani. “I believed I could help guide you from one path to another—brighter and more radiant. My love for you—if I may speak plainly—is neither born from possessiveness like your husband’s, nor cloaked in hypocrisy over inadequacies like Eichi’s. I want to place you—in both heart and body—at the pinnacle of beauty and grace. To free you from all constraints and, with light cast from shadows, make you a drifting golden cloud.”

Misako (showing discomfort and fear): “You’re insufferable.”
“Did you go out of your way to use the roses as an excuse just to say such things?”
“I absolutely detest secretive talk!”
“Moreover—” (with emphasis) “—I don’t think of receiving any help from you at all.”
“Nor do I think you’re someone who truly loves me.”
“Stop the act!”
“Friends?”
“Isn’t that so?”
“That’s all there is to it.”

“It’s because you immediately bring Mr. Okuhira into your thoughts that you become so defensive.”
“Rather than that, think deeply and calmly about human emotional life—suppression and explosion are by no means separate things.”
“Someday…”

“You—do you presume to understand my true feelings?”
(quietly, with loneliness) “If that’s your belief, you’re entirely mistaken.”
“Even Okuhira fails to comprehend me.”
“A woman of my age—once she finds someone dear—how utterly she’ll devote her heart! How she’ll exult and anguish for that person’s sake! Most men could never grasp this.”
“It transcends mere choice.”
“I stand utterly alone.”
“Love that’s discarded and cast aside—it’s nothing but a game.”
“Whether deemed good or ill—isn’t the torment born from being powerless over one’s own cherished heart?”

“Such feelings too, I think, are simply a matter of time and degree.”
“Can a human being go on living without being loved?”
“Especially someone like you—warm and longing to be loved.”

Misako: “Mr. Tani!”
“Just that alone makes me see how distant you are from me.”
“Why must you so cruelly lay bare this love I seek yet cannot grasp—this love that torments me?”

“Please stop this.—Even between friends, this would make me feel awkward and uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?”

Misako began to walk.

Tani: “If you treat me like a child, even I won’t know how to respond anymore. However—Misako-san, please let me say just this. In love, there are, of course, various forms and contents. But ultimately, a silent flute remains silent.” He stood from the armrest. “Shall we go take a look at the back?”

Misako walked ahead in silence.

Misako silently took the lead and walked ahead.

Almost simultaneously, Eichi and Okuhira emerged from the rear, speaking in low voices.

“To be honest,” Eichi said in a suppressed tone, “it pains me to say such things. On one hand, it would mean betraying my friendship with Tani. On the other, regarding you—it would mean I allowed this irresponsible association to begin. But when I consider the trust you’ve placed in me, I simply couldn’t remain silent any longer.”

Okuhira (gloomily): “No—thank you.”
“I appreciate your kindness.”

Eichi (stealing a glance at Okuhira): “However, I beg you not to misunderstand the points I have mentioned.”
“This alone is my life’s wish.”
“I merely gave that warning because I did not want that man to misuse what Misako-san said—those innocent, childlike thoughts of hers—no matter what.”

Okuhira (nervously): “Truly, human hearts are such unreliable things.”
“I have no choice but to act according to what I deem right.”
(Sinking into thought, tucking both hands behind his loose sash, he paced about) I had long been aware that her heart lacked a firm foundation.
I had often said as much.
I had thought it would be best if such a thing never came to pass, but…

Eichi (constantly anxious, approaching Okuhira): “Right—Mr. Okuhira—you’re not truly misunderstanding things, are you? There is absolutely no disgraceful fact or anything of the sort. But—”

Okuhira: “I don’t believe I’ve misunderstood anything.—However, where exactly should one draw the boundaries of what constitutes a fact?”

Eichi: “Given your position, I sympathize with how unpleasant this must feel for you. But—” (suddenly) “—you wouldn’t subject Misako-san to unfair supervision, would you?”

“She can do as she likes.”
“I have no right to say anything about it.”

Eichi muttered under his breath—"Somehow I feel uneasy"—as dark premonitions tightened his chest.
Things would take a dreadful turn.
"Mr. Okuhira," he pressed forward urgently yet kept his voice low enough for only them to hear,
"please—won't you confide solely in me about what course you mean to pursue?"
The words trembled slightly.
"I'm... I'm terribly uneasy."

Okuhira: If I could articulate my feelings and thoughts as deftly as a novelist, there would be no complications whatsoever.
I could not speak.
I merely acted on what I had thought and considered.
Moreover, I believed that was acceptable.
There was no need for me to explain anything to someone who could not understand even when I remained silent.
―You, at least as one of my trusted friends, have fulfilled what you consider your responsibility―so please rest assured.
“Things will take their inevitable course.”

Eichi (still feeling pressured): “But…”

Okuhira: “Life is not made for pleasure.”
“To suffer throughout one’s life—that is what it means to be human.”
“If it is the cup that has been given, one must drink it.”

“Please… please do not do anything that would hurt both yourself and Misako-san—truly… I never intended to involve even Misako-san…”

Okuhira—(With gloomily shining eyes, he fixes a piercing gaze on the timid Eichi.)

Suddenly, from the shadow of the bushes behind them, a shrill, clear—

Misako’s voice: “No!”

As Okuhira and Eichi involuntarily startled, Misako came out briskly.
She looked at the two,

Misako: “Oh, you came too?”
(With a delighted expression, she approached Okuhira.)

Immediately after, Tani came putting both hands in his pockets and frowning.

Eichi (as if welcoming his intent): “Well?”
“Did you find any good flowers?”

Tani (looks at Eichi, then at Okuhira, sharply): “There are no flowers.”
“Old tales!”
(He attempts to briskly walk past them alone)

Eichi hesitantly tried to follow.
At that moment, Okuhira’s unsettling voice made him turn back.

Okuhira (stepping back from the approaching Misako): “Leave me be!”

Misako looked in surprise at her husband, then at Eichi and Tani in turn.
Eichi averted his gaze and followed after Tani—who strode away without looking back—as if chasing salvation.
Misako turned to stare at her husband once more.

“You—what’s happened?”

Okuhira: …………

Misako: “Tell me—what’s happened?”

Okuhira (turning aside): “Sadly, because I too am human, my heart is ruled by the actions of those directly tied to me.”

Misako... (assumed a pained expression)...

Okuhira: “I believed that those meant to stay would stay and those meant to leave would depart when the time came—which is why I refrained from saying anything...”
“Even now, I have not imposed any restrictions on you. Let me make this clear—”

Misako (was truly surprised): “Oh—you!”
“What could you possibly be thinking?”
“What on earth are you misunderstanding?”

Okuhira: I am not misunderstanding anything.
"A fact is a fact."

Misako (drawing even closer to her husband): What have I done?
"You."
―(sudden thought) Oh—could it be you find it strange that I raised my voice like that just now?

“It was nothing. Mr. Tani was being oddly emotional today, so I simply said I didn’t want to take any more walks with him.”

Okuhira (with a harsh glare): “And who was being emotional?”

Misako (gazing up at her husband): “You!”

Okuhira: “What does it signify when a young, newly married woman pours out her life’s dissatisfactions and pains to an unmarried man of such tender youth? Consider it—wouldn’t anyone comprehend?”

Misako (unexpectedly—
calmed down instead) “Were you listening?”
“In fact, it’s better this way.”
“But—to eavesdrop…” (her voice fading) “What sort of person does that make you?”

“I heard it from Eichi.”

“That person?” Misako asked with clear contempt. “What did he say?”

“There’s no need to repeat such things here now.” He avoided her gaze. “Just—I—regret having been your husband even briefly. I was unsuitable. At the very least, I wasn’t the man who could bring you joy.” His voice turned piercing. “Yet not one soul ever told me this!”

Misako (turning pale and seizing her husband’s hand) You!
“I beg you—discard those strange thoughts in your head!”
“You’re under a terrible misunderstanding.”
What on earth was this?
I don’t love Mr. Tani even a tiny bit!

Okuhira (suspiciously): How can you be so certain of that?
“Would you pour out your suffering to someone you yourself scorn and deem worthless?”
“Would you pour out your grievances to a manservant?”
“Unless it’s toward someone one feels more favorably disposed to, people never reveal their weaknesses.”

Misako—I never thought of it that way at all.
My suffering is my weakness?
I was merely sharing my feelings with a friend who’d been talking to me about all sorts of things from the start.
—

“In other words, this proves your emotional intimacy runs deep.”
“People only struggle to maintain friendships across changing circumstances when they find separation unbearable.”
(With contained irritation) “Let me state this clearly—I never intended to become your shackles.”
“I’ll gladly grant you freedom whenever you wish.”
“Consider carefully—spare me your hesitations. Follow whatever path you desire.”
“I’ll bury every memory—all those incidents—in the past.”
“That would be wisest.”
“For me—there remains my study...”

Misako (tears streaming down her face): “That’s right! You have your study. That’s why you can say such things. Without even trying to consider what a terrible mistake you’re making—how can you say such things? For me… for me… there’s no one else but you. There’s nothing else at all. Isn’t that precisely why I’m suffering through this pain you refuse to acknowledge?”

“Love isn’t supposed to be painful.”
“It’s because you try to love those who are difficult to love.”

Misako (shaking her head): “No.”
“No.”
“It’s because you don’t understand how much I care for you!”

Okuhira: “If compelled—even were there factual error—I would forgive. But I cannot endure relations with those who willfully manipulate both their own heart and another’s.—I refuse to be tormented.—Even the most worthless person must retain the right to safeguard their peace of mind.”

Misako shook Okuhira’s hand, tears streaming down her face. “Ah… You’re a monster. You won’t hear the truth beneath the words. Tell me—how can you know my heart? How can you know I’m not lying?”

“If facts align with words.”

“That’s why I’ve been telling you this all along!”
“I—ahh (sobbing violently)—I don’t even want to say it!”

Okuhira: “For humans, there exists a world subtler than words.
All the more so with emotions between the opposite sexes—you claim you don’t love Mr. Tani.
Perhaps that’s true.
However, on one hand, I also cannot help but acknowledge the fact that I love.
(Expelling his fury) Just as love that vows ‘I love you’ can sometimes be a lie, the love that says ‘I don’t love’ can conversely be the truth!”

“Ah…”
“Ah…”
“But I love you this much!”
“You…!”
“But I’m so lovable!”

Misako, weeping like a child, pressed her forehead against her husband’s hand.

Okuhira (bitterly): “What good does agitation do in solving anything?...”

Misako raised her head.
She looked at her husband, as if driven by despair,

“Ah, you are a door that won’t open,” Misako thought.
“A door that won’t open no matter how I knock and knock.”
“What am I supposed to do? Humans can’t express their hearts except through words.”
(Violent sobs escaped her.) The moment those words became unbelievable—
(Her face turned pale.) “The woman from before has died.”
“If I couldn’t die—”
She glared at him. “Look at this!”
“Are you saying—”
Misako pressed closer, cornering her husband. “Look at this!”
“Are you saying I loved Tani?”

She grabbed Okuhira’s hand and stood frozen as if solidified.
Terrifying solitude.
One second... two seconds... The curtain fell swiftly.