Pathway to Japanese Literature

“At life’s final moment… just a word… T-t-tatta… just a word… This is…”

While rearranging planks with one hand, Manpei produced strange vocalizations and shook his head vigorously.
A faded indigo work coat fastened with a rope belt.
From behind—with his checkered headband tied at the nape—he resembled a born-and-bred kabuki actor through and through. But when he turned around, there emerged an elongated horse-like face baked black by the sun—the very picture of an amiable soul.
He appeared twenty-seven or twenty-eight, yet carried himself with youthful vigor.
This young lumberyard worker was a decent sort who labored tirelessly without complaint—save for one glaring flaw: theater mania. Worse still, he fancied himself a female impersonator. Whether this made him a flawed gem or a gem-like flaw remained debatable.
Taking their jibes at face value, he grew into an ultra-grade nuisance who only stoked his theatrical passions higher.
Even today, having no proper work, he tidied the lumber storage yard while earnestly rehearsing lines from third-rate plays.

Before the earthquake, the area around Iidamachi Station was covered in lumber storage yards.
Cedar logs, bamboo bundles, and fir planks stretched endlessly in every direction like Yawata’s thicket—once you wandered in, finding an exit was no easy task.
To Manpei, those rows of fir planks must have appeared as stage backdrops, while the blazing autumn sun in the blue sky took on the guise of a theatrical curtain.
Taking advantage of the deserted blocks spanning two or three neighborhoods, he kept transporting bundles of cedar planks while rehearsing lines from both new school and old school plays without discrimination.

“The soul of my land of the rising sun—a three-foot gleaming sword forged through ages.”
“The Kirishitan heresy defies the realm’s laws—now cleave it asunder!”

Manpei abruptly stopped his stage dialogue.
This was because he had noticed something red glimpsed between the pine planks lined up ahead. After setting down the bundle of cedar bark he had been carrying onto a mound of sawdust, he—with a puzzled *Huh?*—half-tiptoed theatrically toward the pine planks arranged like a wall.
He peeked through the gap at the open space between bamboo bundles ahead, but instantly widened his eyes and let his tongue loll out limply.

A young man in an Inverness cape and fedora—his features bitterly stern—sat perched on a large zelkova square timber before bamboo bundles, lighting a gold-tipped cigarette with a pale, composed face.
Beside him sat a girl with her hair done up in a voluminous downtown-style peach-split chignon, likely returning from an errand.
Sitting with her apron still tied about her waist, she leaned against the man, cheeks and eyes glowing with tormenting allure as though aflame.

The two simultaneously and swiftly looked all around them—front, back, left, and right.
Unaware that Manpei was listening intently from between the lumber with ears pricked up, they pressed their cheeks together and began whispering something.

“...Then, Kuni-chan... tonight, from Iidamachi...”

“Yes… The last train would be best…”

“I’ll be waiting here.”

“Yes.”
“I might be a little late.”
“Since Father goes to bed around eleven, after that if I sneak out and change into my kimono, it might get past twelve.”

“The last train is at 1:10, so…”

“Then it’s all right.”
“There’s about 2,000 yen.”
“Tomorrow’s deposit to the bank… Hoho… I wonder if it’ll be enough…”

“Ha ha ha.
“It’s more than enough.”
“If we go to Korea…”

“You’ll definitely wait here… won’t you?”

“...Kuni-chan...”

“Ryūta-san…”

Manpei was startled and peered again.

"……………"

"……………"

The girl stood up reluctantly, brushing the sawdust from her hips.
She hurriedly trotted out through the lumber.

The fedora-wearing man who had seen her off looked around while licking his lips.
He bared his white teeth in a wide grin—a truly monstrous smile worthy of a sexual predator.
Just like that, swinging his slender cane, he made his way toward Manaibashi.

Manpei leaped back from the gap between the lumber stacks. He glared fixedly at the gap and crossed his arms. He seemed to have forgotten all about theater and everything else as he turned pale and became lost in thought, but then untied his headband and pulled it down deeply over his eyebrows and cheeks. He wove right and left through the lumber stacks and emerged onto a back street in Iidamachi. With a slightly theatrical posture, he furtively glanced left and right.

The thoroughfare was growing dark.
Along the back alley of the engine shed in far-off Iidamachi, the girl with the peach-split chignon was hurrying.

Manpei hurriedly gave chase.
As he drew closer, he followed while keeping intermittently out of sight.

The girl passed under the railway bridge, crossed Suidobashi Bridge, and entered a narrow side alley near Tsukiji Hachiman Shrine.
Manpei also followed and turned into the alley.

The girl with the peach-split chignon, Kuni-chan, opened the small dark lattice door at the end of the narrow side alley and went inside.
Before the lattice door hung a weather-beaten sign reading “Pawnshop” and a new nameplate bearing Marugaki Shōroku.

Manpei stood rooted before it, seemingly at a loss for what to do, arms crossed as he glanced around restlessly.

A bald-headed old man emerged from the small lattice door.
He had a face that looked ready to introduce itself as Marugaki Shōroku and was holding a straw broom in one hand, but when he saw Manpei, he stopped and glared at him suspiciously, adopting a solid, bitter-persimmon expression.

Manpei flusteredly removed the cheek-covering headband.
He bobbed his head in repeated bows.

“Um… Excuse me… May I ask… Um…”

“…Yes.”
“May I ask what your business is?”

“Yes—
“Well… It’s about…”
“Um… The one who… just returned… that is… heh heh… this young lady here…”

“……………”

The bald-headed Marugaki Shōroku did not respond.
He looked up and down at Manpei’s figure as he sweated and bobbed his head obsequiously.
His face grew increasingly bitter, and his eyes began darting about wildly.
He said clearly, as though chewing and spitting out the words.

“That is correct.”
“She is my daughter.”
“Is there something you require?”

Manpei let out a sigh of relief and stroked his chest.
He roughly wiped away the sweat.

"Ah... Thank goodness."
"I'm finally relieved."

Old man Marugaki’s face stretched several inches beneath his bald head.
He stared at Manpei’s face as if to bore holes through it.

Manpei defiantly lengthened his own face in response.
He had been staring back with equal intensity, but suddenly leaned closer, eyes widening as he lowered his voice.

“B-Boss… It’s terrible.”
“Your daughter, you see—”
“She’s… conspiring with some dandy… to elope tonight…”

Sparks flew from Manpei’s eye.
His head spun.
He had been slapped on the cheek and shoved.
Manpei sat planted in the muddy slush, staring vacantly up at the man’s face.

The bald-headed man gripped his straw broom and glared.

“Idiot… Get out of here.”

Manpei trembled violently at the bald-headed man’s furious demeanor.
He retreated while rising to his feet.
At that moment, the girl peeked out briefly from the dark small lattice door.

Manpei bolted sideways.

Manpei walked with his rear plastered in mud, arms crossed as he pondered deeply.

His mind was so consumed with worry that he had no idea where or how he had walked, but when he heard what sounded like someone laughing behind him, he suddenly looked up and realized he had come before the Man'ekibashi Police Station.
Manpei stood there thinking awhile longer, then resolutely began climbing the stone steps in front of the police station.

Inside the police station, three police officers were facing each other across desks and yawning.
When Manpei entered, all three officers immediately noticed the mud plastered thickly on Manpei's rear.

Manpei bobbed his head in quick little bows for no particular reason.

"So… What’d you come here for…?"

“Uh, well… You see… I’ve come to make a request…”

“What’s this? Did you get into a fight?”

“No.”
“That’s not it. Actually… It’s about…”

“Never mind that.”
“Just spit it out.”

Manpei once again bobbed up and down in bows while stammering out an explanation of the circumstances.

“Uh…”
“So that’s why… That lumber storage yard over there ain’t no decent place… It’s become a playground for weirdos and troublemakers… Uh…”
“Just the other day, a murderer almost started something there… Uh…”
“So I figure tonight’s gonna be dangerous too.”
“I think one of those guys ain’t no normal guy…”
“As for the girl… she doesn’t seem to know anything… Uh…”
“Please… please help her…”

Manpei approached, leaned both hands on the desk before the police officers, and bowed repeatedly while wiping away sweat.

All three police officers smirked.

One who appeared to be their young superior—with streaks of gray in his hair—lit a cigarette and exhaled smoke leisurely.

A swarthy officer with unpleasant features pensively began plucking his nose hairs.
Suddenly he boomed: "Fiction!"

The third officer stroked his Chaplin mustache, narrowed his eyes, and spoke.

“Alright, alright… We get it, we get it… Go on home now.”

Manpei looked around at the three police officers as if all vigor had drained from him. He hung his head and slunk away dejectedly. Outside had turned utterly dark.

The three officers who’d watched him leave exchanged glances before erupting in raucous laughter.

Manpei crept through the back entrance to avoid his boss’s notice when a thunderous shout suddenly boomed from deep within.

“Where’ve you been skulking off to?”
“Worthless fool!”

Manpei clumsily braced both hands against the threshold.
From the rear emerged the half-bald boss, his face crimson like he’d drained a bottle.
Thick blue veins swelled across his forehead.

“...Keep your theater mania in check, you damn fool... I’ll beat you senseless...”

“Now, now, you don’t need to use such foul language...”

From the side, the beautifully made-up Okami-san intervened.
Okami-san had always been partial to Manpei.
When it came to theater companions, it was always Manpei, and thanks to Manpei, Okami-san had become quite the theater aficionado.

“Shut your trap and stay put, you bastard!
“What’s so damn funny about that crap?
“Theater and moving pictures—it’s all just made-up damn nonsense!”
“Hey, you!”
“That stuff’s for women to watch.”
“If you’re a man, go watch sumo or baseball!”
“Watching that theater stuff rots your guts till you can’t focus on work!”
“If you keep watching that made-up crap, everything in the world starts looking like lies!”
“Tch… Damn nuisance of a bastard.”

“Now, now.”
“You shouldn’t speak so harshly, you know.”
“Come on, Man-chan, dinner’s ready.”
“You must be hungry.”

“All you do is stuff your face, you damn bastard.”
“What time do you think you’re doing this… At this hour…”

“Well now,
“Even if he intended to just watch one act...
“That’s how you end up unable to leave, see?”

“Tch... You’re always takin’ that damn Mankō’s side.”
“It’s ’cause of you that discipline goes to hell!”

“But Man-chan never acts two-faced... So there’s no call for that.”

“Yeah?
“You bastard!”
“What ‘two-faced’ nonsense!”
“Go take a look at the lumberyard.”
“Nothin’s been tidied up there at all!”
“You left the cedar bark lying around and went off somewhere, didn’t you!”
“Get out here, you bastard!”

“Now, hold on.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“There’s no need for you to get so confrontational.”
“Now, Man-chan.”
“Where on earth did you go?”
“Was there really such a good play showing somewhere?”

While saying this, Okami-san slid the worn-out tray and rice container in front of Mankō.”

Mankō had both hands planted on the entryway threshold as he began sniveling quietly.
These were neither tears of gratitude for Okami-san’s kindness nor tears of frustration at being scolded by Oyakata.

...In this world there exist dangers far more serious than theater—aplenty of them.
I have fought for that until now.
My current state of mind is no place for theater...

Though he desperately wanted to say it, he simply couldn’t bring himself to voice it—tears born of helplessness welled up.

“Now, now.”
“Man-chan.”
“You’re crying, aren’t you?”
“How pitiful… Look at him.”
“It’s because you scolded him so much that Man-chan’s crying, isn’t he?”
“Quivering your throat like that… Come now, that’s enough. Have your dinner. There, there.”

“Tch.”
“Can’t even find the damn words.”
“If you feel sorry for that quivering throat, I can’t stand lookin’ at some flipped-over anglerfish.”
“Do whatever the hell ya want!”
“Tch…”

Oyakata stuck his feet into geta at the back door and left abruptly.
Okami-san, having seen him off, puffed out her cheeks in a huff.

“He went off saying such things.”
“He’s gone off to the next house again to get beaten at that lousy shogi game of his.”
“Because I kept stopping him too much, he hadn’t found a chance to leave.”
“I’m at my wit’s end, really… What’s so fun about shogi anyway?”
“He’s always getting beaten… If it were theater, that’d be one thing… but… right?”
“Man-chan…”

Manpei nodded while teardrops fell sporadically onto the meal tray.
He then voraciously wolfed down the tea-soaked rice.

“Hey, pretty boy.”

When Manpei, having finished his meal, headed up to the second-floor young men’s dormitory and found the room hollowed by everyone’s absence for evening outings—in one corner lay his coworker Kumekichi, who had already laid out his bedding to sleep—the latter raised his head and spoke.
He seemed to have heard the whole course of events from earlier.
He said in a low voice.

“Okami-san’s got a thing for you…”

Manpei did not respond.
He laid out his own futon and burrowed into it.

...Do you people understand my feelings...?

With such thoughts, he waited for the night to deepen.

Manpei was deadly serious.
Sleep was out of the question.
Though not particularly smitten, he simply couldn't stand by watching that adorable peach-split-haired girl get whisked away with two thousand yen by that fearsome young man before his eyes.
Not only that—he couldn't forget the terrifying quality of that smile the fedora-and-Inverness-cape-clad man had leaked alone.
That laugh wasn't ordinary.
It seemed to hold some profound meaning beyond mere delight at deceiving a woman—Manpei clearly saw this didn't match any villainous chuckles from plays he'd known.
Somehow tonight—he felt—something terrible would befall that girl at the lumberyard.
In all this wide world—he alone had realized it.
Yet no one would heed his worries.
...That's right.
I must become tonight's protagonist—risking my life in adventure to stop this disaster... At this thought—Manpei's heart raced beyond control.

Manpei was, by nature, an extreme coward.
Even just peeking at the lumberyard through the restroom window in the dead of night was enough to send shivers down his spine.

I shouldn't have seen that sight.
If only I had slept through tonight without knowing anything—how carefree I would've been.
Were I to wake tomorrow morning to find everyone in an uproar.
An adorable girl being strangled at the lumberyard.
No one knowing who she was or where she came from.
How much simpler if they only figured it out from the evening paper...

But now that things had come to this, there was no way I could feign ignorance.
I had to resolve this with my own hands, yet remained utterly clueless how.
A train approached from the opposite direction.
Another came bearing down from this side.
Left unchecked, collision was inevitable.
Ah—what should I do? Turning these thoughts over and over beneath my futon covers, I must've drifted off unaware.

Startled awake, I raised my head to find—beneath the lone five-candlepower lamp at the room's center—my returned coworkers sleeping soundly. From beneath quilts heaving like stormy seas protruded a reddish-brown hairy thigh bent at a sharp angle.
One arm stuck straight up, scratching vigorously at nothing.
Another mumbled "mmm-mmm-mmm" while sleep-licking lips.
Yet another snored with drowning-man rasps... The scene confirmed the night had grown late indeed.

Manpei started once more, his heart racing.
Wondering if he had overslept, he quietly got up, descended the stairs as silently as possible, came barefoot across the earthen-floored entryway to the kitchen, and found it was eleven thirty.

......Made it...... When this thought struck him, Manpei let out a sigh of relief.
At the same time, not knowing what to do, he stood there all alone scratching his head repeatedly as he looked around.

Suddenly struck by an idea, he reached for the boss's short fireman's hook with silver fittings leaning in the accounting area's corner but reconsidered and returned it to its original place.
He looked around as if searching for a proper weapon... then suddenly thumped his left palm with his right fist.
Grinning, he sneaked into the tearoom where Oyakata and Okami-san lay sleeping side by side.
Adopting a burglar's stance remembered from plays, he stealthily stole Okami-san's gaudy undergarments and day-and-night obi hanging on the clothes rack in the room's corner.
On those same feet, he stole into the innermost bath chamber on tiptoe, shut the door tight, and switched on the light.

Manpei sat down before the mirror stand and boldly stripped to the waist.
He flung open all the drawers of the mirror stand, slathered his chest and upward with stiff-caked white makeup, painting his neck especially white—so stark it gleamed bluish.
While peering into the mirror, he meticulously applied kohl to his eyebrows and hairline.
He didn’t forget to whiten his wrists and ankles all the way down to his toes.
Then he put on Okami-san’s undergarments, tightened the day-and-night obi high across his chest, and thrust out the white collar with all his might.
Then he grabbed the stray hairs stuffed in the bottom drawer of the mirror stand and tied them to his head with a hair tie.
He placed a hand towel over it and peered into the mirror once more.

The result wasn’t particularly successful, but in its own eerie way it did resemble a woman’s appearance—and Manpei seemed thoroughly satisfied. Grinning, he stood up and tried to check his figure from behind. Then he turned off the light, groped his way into kitchen sandals, slipped out the back door, and shut it tight behind him.

Beside the bathhouse's back entrance lay two or three slender tile fragments.
Manpei picked up one of them, wrapped it in someone’s loincloth that was drying on the opposite wall, tied it securely with string, and carefully tucked it under his sleeve.
Adopting feminine gestures, he opened the back gate and hurried across the back alley.
Though the moon had yet to rise and it was pitch dark, he wound his way right and left through the familiar lumber storage yard until arriving at the zelkova wood storage area where the man and the girl had been talking earlier.
Clutching the tile-wrapped loincloth bundle in his right hand, pressing his right sleeve against his face as he crouched, he ostentatiously extended his white-painted neck and peered about furtively.
Strangely, he wasn’t scared at all.

From behind Manpei, the pawnshop's daughter had begun stealthily approaching, muffling her footsteps—but when she caught a glimpse of his figure in the darkness, she seemed to startle.
She hid in the shadow of the lumber, biting her sleeve in frustration.
Holding her breath, she peered intently at the situation.

From between the lumber stacks opposite where the pawnshop's daughter had hidden, a man in an Inverness cape wearing a coarsely striped hunting cap approached.
Holding a thin walking stick, he seemed to be peering through the darkness at Manpei's female guise.

Manpei approached through the darkness with every ounce of seductive charm he could muster.

The pawnshop owner’s daughter nearly bit through her sleeve as she scowled furiously at the departing figure.

The man in the hunting cap frantically scanned his surroundings—front, back, left, right.
With his right hand concealed beneath the Inverness cape quietly withdrawing the dagger, he slid his left hand onto Manpei’s shoulder to draw him close.

“The money…”

Manpei presented the tile-wrapped loincloth bundle he had been holding under his left sleeve.

The man in the hunting cap reached out with his left hand to take it, but upon noticing the bundle’s hard, heavy contents, he jerked his hand back in surprise.
His moment too late, this instant just in time—Manpei struck the man across the cheek with an open hand two or three times with enough force to tear flesh.
The man’s hunting cap flew off and vanished into the darkness.

“BAAANG…… CRACK”

The sound was as big as Manpei’s palm.

The man jumped back and raised the dagger.

“Aieeeee—!”

The pawnshop owner’s daughter, utterly shocked, burst out from behind the lumber stacks.
She fled down the sawdust-covered path, stumbling and scrambling.

Manpei clashed with the man’s dagger using the tile-wrapped loincloth bundle.
While the man drove Manpei into a corner between pine planks with sharp slashes, he kept looking for openings to flee, so Manpei fought defensively by grabbing and hurling sawdust from underfoot again and again.
However, even then—driven into a corner and nearly skewered by one thrust—he slipped into the gap between the pine planks behind him and began wildly toppling cedar logs, bamboo bundles, and stacks of pine planks all around.
The man, having failed to escape and now pinned beneath a cedar log, struggled to rise—but above him, lumber kept raining down relentlessly.
Just as he was desperately batting it away in an attempt to flee, Manpei leaped upon him and wrestled him to the ground.

The man discarded the dagger and charged.
He appeared skilled in judo and proved surprisingly formidable.
As they grappled, rolling over each other, Manpei's wig and hand towel flew off.
Manpei let out a hoarse, cracked-bell scream.

"H... He's gonna kill me...!"

The man tried to pick up the dagger.
Manpei tried to prevent him from retrieving it, and they grappled once more.

“...Thief—!”
“Someone come!”
“Murderer!”

The man tried to throw Manpei with a hip wheel and escape.
Grabbing onto the belt, Manpei braced himself in a warrior’s stance.
Again they rolled over each other, one moment on top, the next underneath.

A crowd of young men from Yamagane came rushing out and surrounded the two.
Upon seeing a young man and a strangely dressed person grappling, everyone stood frozen in astonishment.
Manpei shouted.

“I’m Manpei…”

Finally understanding, two or three of them lunged at the man.
They savagely pummeled him.

Just then, two or three police officers rushed to the scene along with the pawnshop owner’s daughter.
Oyakata also came wielding a silver-fitted fireman’s hook.

The police officer shone a flashlight in Manpei’s face and burst out laughing.

“What the hell are you—the same lunatic from before, aren’t you?”

Manpei adjusted his exposed chest and crossed his arms.
Still seemingly agitated, he stepped forward resolutely.

“Wh... What do you mean ‘lunatic’?”
“How dare you…”

Oyakata interrupted Manpei and glared at him.

"You fool... Look at the state of yourself... If you're not a lunatic, then what are you?"

Everyone was struggling to contain laughter.

At last, the moon began to rise, and the entire area grew brighter.
From behind, Kumekichi let out a deep sigh.

"What the... So it's Mankō after all! I thought a bear had escaped from the zoo!"

Everyone burst into uproarious laughter.

The police officers handcuffed the man.
They retrieved the tile-wrapped loincloth bundle and dagger from beneath the lumber.
They returned to the police station with Oyakata, Manpei, and the daughter.
They immediately called Marugaki Pawnshop.

The bald-headed Marugaki Shōroku, who had rushed to the Manaita Bridge police station, wept with joy upon seeing his daughter’s unharmed face—but when he saw the handcuffed man, his expression twisted with rage and he lunged forward to grab him.

“You bastard...!”
“Y... You’re that carnival huckster Ryūkō…”
“Thi... This bastard’s been squatting in my rental house... piling up back rent... and... and refuses to get out!”
“You threw me down with your damned judo... a-and then my daughter... You bastard... Ugh... Grudge upon grudge... You’ll see what’s coming!”

The Yamagane boss intervened and forced him into a seat.
He calmly laid out the circumstances.

The bald man pressed his palms together and bobbed his head repeatedly at Manpei.
He pulled his daughter by the hand and positioned her before Manpei to voice her thanks.

The daughter turned crimson, putting on coquettish airs as she approached Manpei and adjusted her long sleeves.
She lowered her sweet-smelling peach-parted bob.

Manpei’s sweat streamed down in tremors from beneath his white powder.
While desperately hitching up his half-fastened obi belt behind his back again and again, he returned their bows with frantic excess.

Everyone couldn’t help but laugh together.

“Ahahahaha!”

“Wahahahaha!”

The handcuffed man puffed up his face terribly.